THIRTY-FOUR #2
Silas swallowed hard, trying to steel himself against the strange, woozy weight of the odd surroundings pressing in on his thoughts. “It’s not just love. It was built from logic. From her . She found a way.”
“So did we,” Lyana said, eyes imploring.
“We tried, Silas. He tried to save me, his love for me took over in the end. He gave up everything to try and stop what was always fated to come for us, for what needed to just be . The Realm took us both for thinking we could find another way, and it devoured us while we screamed and begged. It didn’t care. ”
Lyana was closer to him now, though he hadn’t seen her move. He tried to flinch away, but his feet wouldn’t budge.
“Do you think it will be any different for you?” she whispered.
Silas’ jaw tensed, his breaths turning shallow. Something about her voice, this place, her words, were peeling him apart at the seams, unravelling him bit by fragile bit.
“It won’t be, Silas,” she said in answer to her own question, fingers reaching for him but not quite meeting his skin.
“It only understands balance, sacrifice. Don’t make our mistakes.
” Lyana’s gaze pinned him. “One of you must go, that is the law of the ritual as it was always meant to be. The Gemino tribe understood it, but everyone thinks they can change, adapt.” She breathed out a wary sigh, hand falling back to her side.
“If you try to subvert that, you won’t just fail, Silas, you’ll be dragging her here with you. ”
His heart twisted violently. “ No . Amelia…she’s stronger than you could possibly understand.”
“She is,” Lyana agreed, her tone shifting to something suddenly soft and reverent. “She is brilliance and fire and pain and love.” Her eyes met Silas’, fierce and striking. “And if you truly love her, then you won’t gamble her life on a theory.”
His pulse roared in his ears.
“I’ve seen the look in your eyes,” she said softly, sadly. “You’ve already made the choice, in your heart. You would trade your life for hers in a breath.”
She held out a hand again. A shimmer of purplish-silver light pooled in her palm and a vision rippled in the air around them, and suddenly Amelia was there.
She was on her knees on the mirrored edges of the lake, gasping for air, consumed by darkness as the ritual collapsed around her.
Amelia looked to Silas, her scream silent, eyes locked on his right before she was torn away.
Silas’ knees gave out and he collapsed to the ground.
“No,” he gasped. “That’s not real. That won’t happen.”
“But it can, and it will,” she implored. “If you stop her from trying to save you.”
Tears stung at his eyes, clogged in his throat. “Why are you doing this?”
Lyana’s expression twisted into pure sorrow. “Because I lost everything. And no matter what it costs, I want to protect her from what happened to me…and to him. I wish I could stand back and watch you both defy the odds, but you will fail.”
The shadows beyond the lake seemed to curl in tighter, the image of Lyana beginning to fray, her edges dissolving.
Her final words coiled around him as the vision faded.
“One life, Silas. That’s the cost. Pay it…or lose her. And lose everything.”
Amelia slept restlessly, but she had slept.
Waking with the sun filtering through the canvas of the small tent, she felt a strange level of contentedness washing over her with the warmth of the fresh morning.
She had to believe today was going to work, that the man rousing next to her would not disappear before her eyes in a matter of hours.
She sat up and stretched, the wounds on her back stinging uncomfortably.
Amelia looked down to Silas as he opened his eyes, the blue in them finding her immediately. Something in them had her pausing, something withdrawn and frightening. She frowned at him as he sat up quickly, hands moving for his pack and rifling through it, refusing to look in her direction.
“Are you alright?”
Silas seemed to force a breath out. “I’m fine,” he said, but she could hear the lie in his voice.
Her heart turned over as he pulled out the journal, flipping through the pages and reviewing the ritual.
“No second thoughts?”
He looked at her over his shoulder, face expressionless. “Why, would you change your mind?”
Amelia’s brows furrowed. “No. I’ll sit here until I’m out of breath convincing you that we’re doing the right thing…that this will work.”
His jaw tightened, eyes shifting across her face. He nodded and glanced away again, fingers turning the pages in intervals.
She watched him worriedly but understood. He was nervous. They were putting everything on the line.
They stepped out of the tent to the sights of the Ruins of Veilthorne in the far distance. Less than an hours’ walk. It was better than she could have anticipated.
Packing up quietly, they hefted up their packs and began the steady trek across the sandy dunes.
They exchanged only a few words, Silas’ overall demeanour beginning to worry her.
His doubt, if he carried it into the ritual, might interfere with it, and her heart pounded at that possibility.
They had gone over everything yet again by the time they reached the outskirts, Amelia wanting to prove to him that they had this, that their plan was going to work.
Silas was still quiet as they passed crumbling columns and collapsed buildings, heading for the temple in the distance.
The moon was already in the sky above them, hand in hand with the blazing sun. It was perfectly round, mocking them with its solidness in the sky, a constant reminder that their time had run out.
The wind tore across the Rift, bitter and unrelenting, howling like a chorus of lost souls. The sand whipped at them as they pushed onwards, like the weather itself knew what was coming. The air shimmered with unstable magic, the bones of the world trembling beneath its weight.
She shivered despite the sun in the sky. Something heavy fell across her shoulders, and she realised Silas had placed his cloak around her.
He adjusted the straps of his pack and stared straight ahead, jaw clenched tight and eyes unfocused like he had descended deep into his own thoughts. Amelia thanked him quietly for the extra warmth of his cloak and continued beside him.
Her hand drifted to Silas’ arm.
“What are you thinking?” she asked over the wind, ducking under a collapsed column.
He blinked at her briefly. “Just going over it all.”
“Okay,” she said, looking ahead, the temple nearing. “This will be the right place, directly central to both Monoliths, where the magical convergence will be the strongest. If it’s going to work anywhere, it’ll be here.”
Silas nodded, not answering.
They were quiet again until they were at the steps of the temple, taking the steps steadily upwards. The magic between them was restless, tugging, and uncertain. Her chest felt uncomfortable with it, like it was stronger this close to where it had all started.
They reached the top and looked into the darkness of the temple, Silas igniting an arcane lamp in such a familiar way that she stood and stared for a moment.
“This is going to work,” Amelia said, looking to him as he passed her a lamp of her own.
He looked out over the Rift again, eyes shadowed.
“You said it yourself,” she continued, her voice trembling. “The last pair failed because they fractured. That won’t happen today.”
Silas finally turned to her, and the look in his eyes nearly broke her.
“I want this to work, Amelia,” he said gently, brushing her cheek with his fingers. “I just don’t know if trying is worth risking all the people who might suffer if it fails.”
The dread in her stomach coiled tighter. “What are you talking about? We can’t back out now.”
His mouth opened, but he never got the chance to speak.
From behind the columns and fractured stone walls, figures emerged, cloaked and silent. A shifting of stone and sand, Amelia turning with a gasp to find them behind her, shadows against the blaze of the sun.
Her heart jumped into her throat. “No…”
Silas swore from next to her, stepping in front of her as though to shield her with his body.
“I was wondering when you two were going to wander in,” came a voice. Amelia whipped back around. Demetrius stepped out from the temple’s entrance. “Waltzing in, pretending like you have any control over this.”
Her hand flew protectively to the hilt of her blade, stepping closer to Silas until their arms touched.
They were surrounded.
Demetrius gazed at them with an odd familiarity. Cold, calculated, eyes alight with a keen interest that felt too intimate. The lines on his face appeared deeper, the silver in his hair more pronounced, like the days since their escape had not been kind to him.
Amelia held up a hand in warning. “Back off,” she hissed. “I’d hate to have to remind you what I’m capable of.”
Demetrius’ answering smile was both amused and sinister. “Your tenacity is admirable, truly. It’s what made my decision…difficult.” His eyes sparked as he shifted his focus between them. “Go right ahead, Amelia. It would be doing me a favour for you to demonstrate.”
Amelia swallowed uneasily, sharing a glance with Silas. She nodded to him, letting her hand fall back to her side.
Silas focused on Demetrius, lifting his palm. Amelia saw the intention pass across his face, and just when she expected to see the Sanctum leader fly through the air, he simply grunted and took a slight step back. Like he had merely been shoved weakly by another person.
They looked on incredulously as Silas slowly lowered his hand.
Demetrius looked at them with a casual shrug. “The Rift, you know? Magic doesn’t cooperate unless you’re serving it.”
Amelia stepped forwards, voice shaking with rage. “You’re not stopping us. We know how to break the cycle and survive it. We’ve found another way.”
Demetrius looked at her blandly with a sigh. “There is no other way.”
“The blades chose us,” Silas said. “It’s up to us this time to fix things…if you’re all about bringing balance and serving the Midnight Blades, then you need to step aside and let it happen.”
“You were never meant to be chosen,” Demetrius snapped, an anger suddenly passing over his face, the most emotion he had shown so far. “No-one was supposed to be chosen for another several years. Your pair bond was an accident, but I will deal with it because you give me no choice.”
“You’re wrong,” Silas said, voice hollow. “This was meant to happen, and we can do this. Without you.”
Demetrius laughed before squinting up to the sky, at the moon slowly rising.
“There is no time to explain how wrong you are, nor do I wish to explain.” With a flick of his fingers, he gestured to his followers.
They moved closer, caging them further. “We do the ritual now, my way, or you can both die.”