10. Lucina
LUCINA
The Diviner enclave is tucked in the dense forestry that surrounds the majority of Pirn, and by the time we get there, Lune Sylra already hangs in the sky. No other stars have joined her just yet, but she won’t be alone much longer.
Kimber leads the way, and Pax walks by my side.
He’s been silent ever since Kimber explained to him that the Shadow Man is my second Velkan—a spirit that has bound himself to my life.
And whoever he is, he’s not supposed to be here.
He’s a soul that should be repenting in Pyra, but instead… he’s latched on to me.
Switching cabins isn’t an option.
The dirt path into the woods fades into a smooth pebble walkway, and my mouth falls open when I look at the canopy of trees above us.
There’s a system of treehouses woven through the tall forest—wooden hovels, like the ones Gemma and I live in.
They’ve been meticulously suspended between long tree branches, the highest of them nearly thirty feet off the ground.
Each round structure is fitted with a pointed roof, colorful swirls and whirls adorning the curved wooden walls, illuminated entirely by tiny orbs of amber light flitting through the trees. Everything is connected by long wooden bridges, thin posts on either end with frayed ropes as railings.
“You live here?” I ask Kimber, completely in awe.
Only the highest-ranked members of each coven live in their respective quarters, but others, like Gemma and I, live in the main lodging area on the western side of camp.
Kimber is the granddaughter of Pa, the Solian Nyrith, a term she explained meant Memory Holder or Story Keeper.
He’s the leader of the Diviner Coven, which meant one day that title would be hers.
Kimber nods, hooking her thumb into the strap of her green corduroy bag. “Ever since I was three.”
She leads us to a set of stairs that spiral up the base of the largest tree. It’s nothing but long, narrow slabs of pine wood that have been nailed into the rough bark—no railing. I stay close to the trunk as we climb it.
“Wait out here,” Kimber orders Pax, a Disciple-born who’s ranked higher, even with her being the heir to the Nyrith. But surprisingly, he listens.
Pax positions himself beside the large wooden door that Kimber has stopped us in front of, then she promptly wraps her knuckles against it. There’s a quiet shuffle on the other side of the wood, then a soft scrape of a cane across the floor, and the hinges on the door creak as it opens.
Pa stands in the threshold wearing robes of the deepest purple, back hunched with all his weight resting against his cane. “She who dreams,” he says to me in greeting, then his foggy emerald eyes slide to Kimber. “You look worried, Mouse. Tea?”
Kimber nods, “Pa, we have a problem.” She yanks me inside with her, and the door shuts behind us.
Pa’s straggly silver beard is thin and tangle-free, shifting as he tilts his head to the side. “What kind of problem, Mouse?” he asks. I glance around the space, noticing a tea kettle on the table, three cups already set out around it. As if he knew—
“She who dreams,” Pa says, loud enough to pull my attention. He gestures to the chair opposite the one Kimber has sunk into. “Sit.”
The legs of the chair scrape the wood as I pull it from the table, and Pa waits until I’m seated before lowering himself into the chair beside mine. “Thank you,” I tell Kimber when she slides a steaming cup into my hands.
“The problem,” she starts, watching Pa warily, “is that Lucina has a Velkan that is dream-weaving.”
“Dream what?” My brows shoot up to my hairline, a spark of fear running through me.
“Dream-weaving,” Pa starts, a silver brow raised at his granddaughter, “is a tactic that Velkan spirits use to communicate with their living host. It’s rarely practiced due to the toll it takes on them, but essentially, your Velkan is weaving his memories into your dreams to get your attention.”
My throat tightens. “So, my dreams are—”
“His memories,” Kimber sighs. “From when he was alive.”
Holy gods. The symphony of coughs, the echoes of hurried footsteps on stone, his voice, and a woman’s voice—it’s one of my Velkan’s memories. But why is he showing it to me?
Pa turns to face me, both of his wrinkled hands folded in his lap. “Velkan’s don’t risk the toll that dream-weaving takes, unless there is an important message to get across. But you don’t understand the memories, do you?”
I shake my head. It’s hard to understand anything when I can’t see. I’m forced to rely on sound, and the dreams—or memories– aren’t long enough for me to gather much of anything.
“You will.” Pa smiles softly. “You, she who dreams, are a thread of fire different from all the other flames around it. You’ve always been that way.”
My gaze cuts to Kimber, who is staring intently into the steaming surface of her tea.
“Who is he?” I ask, and her eyes lift to mine.
“I don’t know. Velkan’s have more…liberties…than other spirits. He controls who sees him fully. I can feel him, but he won’t show himself to me. I was hoping that Pa—”
Pa is already staring in my direction, glassy eyes trailing the space above my shoulders. “Normally, I can see them, Mouse,” he tells Kimber. “But not this one.”
I think I’m going to be sick. “Okay,” I start, ignoring the obvious squeak in my voice. “So how do I get rid of him—”
Kimber yelps when every light in the room is snuffed, leaving us in complete darkness. The temperature drops, and goosebumps rise on my skin.
There is a shuffle, followed by the strike of a match, and Pa’s aged face illuminates as he sets a melted candle in the center of the table and sits back into his chair. “He didn’t like that question.”
“I don’t care if he likes it or not,” I reply, but my voice is shaky. “I should have a choice in who binds themselves to me.”
Orange shadows from the flame flicker across Pa’s face, his lips curved into a frown. “There is very little in this life that you will have a choice in, Lucina.”
Something heavy settles in my gut.
“To have even one Velkan is an honor,” Pa continues, “but to have two…You are very protected, child, that is a good thing.”
“But Pa,” Kimber starts, “her second Velkan, he is—”
“He was,” Pa corrects her, and my eyes dart between them. “He was a lot of things in life, but even the dead can turn over new leaves. He belongs to Pyra, but don’t you think making the sacrifice to become a Velkan redeems at least a fraction of his soul?”
Kimber falls back in her chair, silent.
“He’s using me to redeem his soul?” I ask, unaware until now just how hard I’ve been gripping the teacup. “Is that why he’s leaving me gifts?”
“Gift…” Pa’s stare goes out of focus, those all-seeing eyes locked in one place, then his head snaps up, and the flame on the candle stills. “He left you something blue.”
I look at Kimber, finding her wide eyes already stuck on me. “Yes,” I tell him. “A sapphire.”
Pa’s wrinkled brows lift, his glazed eyes rounding as he looks to his granddaughter. “Oh, Mouse,” he says. “We do have a problem.”
“What is the problem?” I ask, sitting up straighter in my chair. Aside from the fact that a demon has attached itself to me to redeem himself… or haunt me…. or send me a message…
“You are familiar with the Chiaros?” Pa asks, “And the way they were formed?”
I nod, attempting to steady my breathing, shadows dancing all around the room as the flame begins to tremble along the wick of the candle.
“Aura, Pyra, and Vita were born from a dying star.” His voice carries through the dimly lit space. “When Chiaro collapsed, our world was made, and after the Matrons were born, do you know what the first thing they did was?”
I shake my head slowly, settling my hands on the table.
“They found a way to communicate. They created something we called the Tether—three stones embedded in a gold chain. The ruby is the heart of Pyra, the emerald belonged to Vita, and the sapphire was pulled right out of Aura’s leagues of bright blue sea.
When connected, it gave the Matrons the power to communicate with any soul in the Chiaros.
It was a marvelous thing, until it fell into the wrong hands.
Lucina, do you know who Alaric Tenebrus is? ”
“He was…one of the original disciples, right?” I ask, and Pa nods.
The story Pa told at Selumira sparked more questions.
Gemma told me that Alaric Tenebrus was the first disciple to convert to black magic.
He pledged himself to the dark side of Vita, and from then on, her shadowed blood ran through him.
He convinced four other Sol disciples to convert, then the five of them fled south, creating an empire of Rogues.
Like us, they have five royal bloodlines; the Tenebrus line is the most potent.
Everyone knows Alaric Tenebrus. He might as well be the devil.
No one has ever given a name to the side of Vita that he began worshipping.
She is the darkness between stars, the phantom wind that knocks moons out of orbit or swallows them whole.
She’s the furious and sinister part of Chiaro that just didn’t break off right when it collapsed.
She never found her place amongst the stars, so she takes her anger out on them.
No one worshipped her…until Rogues.
Pa readjusts himself in his chair, purple robes shifting across his arms. “He got his hands on the Tether,” he tells me.
“Then imbued it with a great evil, giving spirits the power to travel through the stones instead of just talk through them. Alaric created the Twilight Passage, a tunnel system that connects our plane of existence to the spirit world. The magic in the stones is so potent that only one is needed to access the passage.”
My mouth dries out. I have a key to the Twilight Passage sitting on my nightstand.
“It was Etis Van Reenan—our highest ranked disciple— that stole back the Tether and separated the stones when she realized it couldn’t be wholly destroyed.
Etis wanted it to be nearly impossible for anyone to possess all three stones at once.
So, she gave each stone a condition: The sapphire had to be given freely, the emerald she left up to Fate, and the ruby requires a great sacrifice.
They have to come to you in the way she intended, and that is the only way to possess them.
Using an Eldral at all is damning, but using one that does not belong to you, could be fatal. ”
“Gods…” I mutter to myself, and Kimber stiffens.
“You must never use it,” Pa says sharply. “The consequences of possessing an Eldral are dire enough, but using one is… far too risky.”
“I won’t,” I promise, and Kimber lets out a heavy breath. “I don’t even want it, but why would my Velkan give it to me?”
It’s Kimber who replies before her grandfather can, “Because he wants you to use it.”
The silence that falls after her words is much too quiet for my liking. “But if my Velkan is sworn to protect me, then why on Pyra’s dark planet would he want me risking my life in the Twilight Passage?”
“Perhaps he believes that whatever he’s trying to tell you is worth the risk,” Kimber says.
“Be careful, child,” Pa says warily. “Your Velkan plays by his own rules, and he has no problem defying the will of Fate.”
Fucking fantastic.
The lights flicker back on, the amber orbs in Pa’s quaint hovel illuminating the cluttered space.
Kimber gets to her feet, shaking out her hands as if they’ve been clenched this whole time.
“We’ll hide the Eldral someplace safe,” she tells her grandfather.
“And Lucina promises not to use it…ever.” Kimber punctuates her words with a piercing stare in my direction. “Right?”
I nod. “I promise.”
“Good.” Pa stands, then he reaches back for his wooden cane. “Pay attention to the dreams he’s weaving for you, child. If you can figure out what he’s trying to tell you, he’ll leave you be.”
A heaviness settles behind me as I make my way to the door. “Wait.” I turn back to face Pa, and his brows rise in question. “You said there are consequences for possessing an Eldral. What are they?”
“It is a crime, Lucina, of the highest degree—to have access to the Twilight Passage.” The Solian Nyrith settles himself over his cane and says simply, “Death or exile. The Dame would likely have you killed.”
Kimber stayed with Pa, and I managed to avoid most of Pax’s questions on the way back through camp, explaining everything except the Eldral.
It’s just sitting on my nightstand.
If someone were to find it, it would be entirely my Velkan’s fault. I’d be sentenced to death, and he’d die with me. How dire could this message be? He’s risking my existence and his own.
Pax and I crest the hill into the heart of camp, the limbs of the Banyan lit up by the small orbs that flutter through it. “So, the tree passes judgment?” I ask. “Every time you go through it?”
“Yeah, it makes sure you have no ill intent. Wouldn’t want anyone getting in that—”
There’s a ripple and a crack, then the roots of the Banyan groan, and those passing along the dirt paths around us shout as the portal opens and the Captain barrels through the opening like a freight train—his coven hurtling through after him.
“Holy gods,” a woman beside us mutters, and Pax goes utterly still.
Draped over Callan’s arms—limp and frail—is a woman. She’s nothing but skin and bones with streaks of white through her black hair.
“Oh, gods,” Pax breathes, “oh gods, he did it.”
Callan hardly misses a step, shouting at all the stunned people who watch him, ordering them out of his way as he takes off in the direction of the infirmary.
“Did what?” I ask, but Pax takes off after the Captain, and I’m forced into a quick pace to keep up. “Pax, who is that woman?”
“Iris Vaughn,” he shouts over his shoulder, the entire camp having erupted into chaos. “Daughter of Elliot and Lila Vaughn. Her parents made it to Pirn, but Iris was taken by Rogues. Hundreds of our people were taken by Rogues. And Callan, he—"
A man and a woman sprint past us, streaks of white through her black hair.
“He found them.”