11. Aryn
Aryn
Freezing air wraps around me in a giant fist and squeezes tight, punching the breath from my lungs in a cloud that drifts towards the crimson sky.
Before my mind can even process the shift from hot to cold, the sweat on my skin forms ice crystals so sharp they feel like they might slice me right open.
My inhale fights against the frigid night as I suck in a shaky breath and brace myself.
There’s no cataclysmic shock.
No shifting of the world beneath my feet.
No lightning tearing across the heavens in the Fates’ fury.
There’s only silence and the thick, floral bouquet of scents my nose had almost forgotten.
The lush, intoxicating sweetness of blood-orchids reaches me from a patch of them waiting just ahead.
Petals push through the snow, so deeply red they look nearly black in the night, though they wilt beneath the weight of the cold.
Electric blue thraeva vines wind between their stems, adding the scent of velvet smoke and the dark honey that drips from their thorns.
It’s more powerful than I remember. Sweet and bitter, sensual and rotting all at once. Elyra feels like a vast, breathing flower slowly bleeding perfume from every torn seam of reality. The wind blows again, the air pulsing around me as if to welcome me home.
Home.
Relief hits me so hard my legs nearly fail. After nearly a century of concrete walls and sterile air, I’m finally home. Joy hits me so sharp it borders on pain, and right on its heels comes the bittersweet agony I knew would follow.
This place is no longer the one I left. The air tastes of loss as much as memory, and the weight of every year I spent away presses down on my chest until it’s hard to breathe. I draw in a shuddering inhale, fighting the tears prickling behind my eyes.
Snow crunches behind me, and I turn to find Cato staring, slack-jawed. Three faint dots reflect in his eyes as he gawks at the sky, taking in the moons hanging high above the distant mountains.
The crimson glow bathes him in shades of blood and rust, turning his copper hair into living flame and casting deep shadows across the planes of his face.
It makes his scars stand out in stark relief and catches in his wide, awestruck eyes.
He looks almost otherworldly in this light—rugged and beautiful in a way that steals the breath I just managed to catch.
Afraid to break the stillness, I keep my voice low. “Come on. Let’s make room for the others.”
He nods, breath puffing in clouds of steam as he steps forward with a visible shiver. “Hells, this feels like walking into one of Nelly’s deep freezers.”
I frown at the unfamiliar name, but there’s no time to ask as Ronan appears next, sword drawn and fire in his eyes. The thick layers of clothing make him look even larger, and his head is on a constant swivel, searching for danger in every direction before his shoulders ease.
“It’s quiet for now,” I say, whispering in an attempt to preserve the fragile peace.
Cameron steps through right after, his glasses catching the red moonlight on the snow. He huddles against Ronan’s back, seeking safety, and my chest aches at the easy way Ronan reaches behind him and offers comfort with nothing more than a touch.
I had that once.
Back when this place was home.
Lillith comes through next, eyes enormous as she tromps through the snow to stare at the plants nearby. Taryn follows last. Ever practical, she stops to pull on her gloves and hat before going any farther. Once she’s properly bundled, her eyes find Lillith and crinkle with a smile.
“You’re almost camouflaged out here,” she teases softly.
Lillith grins, head snapping up as she glances around at the red-hued night. “I’d be more camouflaged if I could be naked.”
Taryn hides a laugh behind her hand. “Let’s not risk hypothermia for the sake of experimentation right now, sweetheart.”
Magic pulls at my gut, and I twist to look at the opening we just stepped through.
Faint earthly greens and cloudy blues shimmer through the air, but they’re more erratic now.
Like the worlds have grown tired of us holding the veil aside, there’s a sharp snap I swear I can hear as the portal gives one last weak flicker and disappears entirely.
It’s darker without the daylight bleeding through from the other side, but the snow makes everything brighter. The breeze picks up and cuts across my skin, seeping all the way to my bones in a way I’ve never experienced before. Cato shivers again, almost violently this time.
I turn to him with a frown. “Put on your gloves and hat. If you need an extra scarf, you can have mine.”
“Y-you need it,” he insists, teeth chattering, but he obeys and digs in the side pocket of his pack.
I follow my own advice, pulling on the rest of my layers.
My fingers ache even inside the fur-lined gloves, and my tail burrows under my coat, coiling around my waist for warmth.
The faint rustling of leaves grows muffled as I tug my hat over my ears, the thick material stealing some of my ability to scout for danger.
“R-right, so h-here’s an idea,” Cameron manages as he bundles himself with his scarf. Only his glasses are visible now, and he scowls as they fog with his breath. “How about we just open a portal right next to our destination? That seems w-way more convenient.”
“Because we don’t know where that portal might be,” I answer, glancing at the blank space where we crossed.
Cameron’s voice is shaky as he says, “And l-let me guess, you don’t have a map handy, do you? One that shows the rifts, maybe? That would be extra useful.”
I chuckle, letting my eyes lift to the sky again. “As it so happens, I do. It doesn’t do us any good right now, though. We don’t know where they match up in Elyra.”
“Well, that sucks,” Cameron mutters.
“How about the maps we do have?” I ask Ronan. “Let’s see if we can get our bearings straight on those.”
He nods and pulls them from his pack, and I step closer at the same time as Cato. I’m surprised to find his usual aggression missing, replaced by sharp focus and obvious enthusiasm.
When he catches me watching him, his shoulders tense. “I can help,” he says, voice a touch defensive. “I’ve been planning missions for twenty years. Routes, contingencies, fallback points. This is what I do.”
“In the city you know by heart, yes,” I agree. “Things are different here.”
“Everything is different here,” he counters. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help. Sakane has spent his entire life creating maps, and I helped him with a lot of them. I’m good at this.”
His eagerness to dive in is almost endearing. I dip my chin, gesturing for him to take a look. “I didn’t think maps would interest you.”
Cato huffs a small cloud of breath as he steps forward, shoulders relaxing a fraction. “You’d be surprised at what interests me.”
Taryn steps forward to join us as Ronan pulls out the map. It’s hand-drawn but not crude, showing every landmark Sovran knows of this place. He’s made a record of the civilizations he could remember, along with a note about whether they were friendly or to be avoided.
“We need to head towards the capital”—Ronan points at a simple drawing of a city to the northeast labeled Lyravelle before dragging his finger to a spot in the center southern point of the map—“and we are here.”
“That’s… a long way,” Cato mumbles as he studies the terrain.
“Several hundred miles,” I confirm as I follow his finger along the paper.
“Why there?” Taryn asks.
Ronan glances up at her like the answer is obvious, but instead of getting short with her, he gestures at a few of the other cities on the map. “This area has always been the most populated, and Lyravelle is the capital. It’s home of the Vaelor.”
“Vaelor?” Cato repeats, wrinkling his nose.
“The hierarchy works differently here than anything you’re used to,” I explain.
Cato snorts a laugh. “The only hierarchy we’re used to is martial law.”
“Dictatorships,” Cameron adds, “with a focus on the dick.”
I give them both a conceding nod. “True. In Elyra, the Vaelor is the highest power in the land.”
“Like a king or queen?” Lillith asks.
“Exactly. We’d be here all day if I went into every detail, but local leaders handle most of the day-to-day stuff.
Each village, town, and city has its own ruler who sets and enforces their own laws, controls their own guards and militia, and runs their own markets.
They’re generally left alone unless the Vaelor feels the need to step in. ”
“What about people living outside the cities?” Cameron asks. “Homesteaders and the like?”
I shrug. “As long as they’re not causing harm, they’re left alone.”
“Must be nice,” he mutters.
Cato purses his lips as he studies the area around the capital. “So what does the Vaelor actually do, then?”
“More than anything? They’re a figurehead. They set policy, and most local leaders follow their example. If the Vaelor imposes a tax on merchants, the towns usually follow suit. If they impose harsh punishment for violent crimes, so do the others.”
“Ahh,” Cameron breathes. “So if the Vaelor commits their military to help us, the others will likely fall in line.”
Ronan dips his chin in a proud nod. “Correct. And if they don’t…”
“We’re fucked,” Cameron finishes for him in a tone far too cheery to be authentic.
“How are they chosen?” Cato asks.
Ronan and I exchange a glance. “They aren’t chosen, necessarily,” I explain. “Usually, a Vaelor takes the seat by force when the previous one is killed or overthrown.”
“Damn,” Cato mutters. “So they rule until someone stronger comes and takes it from them?”
“More or less,” I confirm.
“So we need the Vaelor on our side,” Cato says thoughtfully. “What happens if we get there and they’re bad?”
“Or what if there’s not even a city left?” Cameron adds. “What if the Vaelor is on the other side of the world?”
“Then we adjust,” Ronan answers with a shrug.
Cameron scowls at him. “That’s wonderfully vague.”