Chapter 6
Mum and I sit on opposite sides of a bleak holding room in one of the smaller towers that dot Vinguard.
It’s not part of the wall and, instead, is manned by Mercy Knights that didn’t pass the tests to walk the ramparts, lending mid-city aid when a dragon lands—like this evening.
It’s also a place to hold prisoners until they can be judged by the Creed, enforcing the laws of Vinguard—also like this evening.
I shift. The shackles biting into my wrists are uncomfortable, but it’s the stool that’s currently the bane of my existence. The stone floor might be softer.
The only other thing that’s a larger pain in my ass is right across from me… As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I look into the corner of the room, scolding myself. Mum’s life hasn’t been easy. And she means well, I know she does.
I sigh heavily. At least no one has discovered the jar of scourge dust in my pocket. Marius “spared Valor Reborn the indignity of a search.” That’s one thing going right since the wall.
“I’m sorry,” Mum mumbles.
“It’s fine.” It’s not. “I know why you did it.”
“It’s so hard, Isola, being so close to a breakthrough, yet also knowing you’re running out of time.” She tilts her head and rests it against the wall behind her, staring at the ceiling. “I hope you never feel this way.”
“I know what it feels like to be running out of time,” I murmur.
Fate was cruel in making the dragon attack me when I was twelve.
Young enough to change my life forever. Old enough to remember what life was like before my eyes turned gold and the Creed declared me Valor Reborn—the legendary Dragon Slayer returned, destined to kill the Elder Dragon and restore the balance of the world.
It’s very poetic on paper. Stories often are, like they’re trying to make up for how messy and ugly and complicated the real world is.
“What do you mean?” Mum’s attention is solely on me. She heard how heavy the words were.
“I…” I’ve felt like I’m cursed for years. Am I? I can’t ask her now. Valor Reborn and her mother taken in for questioning? If I was one of the Mercy Knights standing guard on the other side of the door, my ear would be glued to it. “The Tribunal is tomorrow.”
The carved statues of knights that adorn the spires of the Grand Chapel of Mercy have more movement than Mum does at the mention of the Tribunal. “Don’t—”
“Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate,” I interrupt hastily and loudly, pinning her with a look and nodding my head toward the door.
She catches herself, and a spark of rage alights in her eyes that turns into an inferno when the door suddenly opens, revealing Vicar Darius.
Right on time.
The vicar doesn’t walk; he glides with authority.
In two long strides, his wiry, towering form is between us, staring down his daggerlike nose with judgment cast my way and outright loathing toward Mum.
A frown tugs on his carefully trimmed mustache as his eyes—one blue and one gilded—rake over me in disappointment.
Expectedly, Lucan strides in after him and leans against the corner to the left of the door, farthest from me. I bet immediately after I gave him the slip, he went to the vicar. They were probably halfway here when the Mercy Knights found them to inform them of our capture.
I shouldn’t be surprised but am when one more person walks in: Father.
He’s still dressed in his dragon-blood red robes as a high curate of the Creed.
I wonder what official capacity he was acting in when the dragon attacked, because the circles under his eyes are darker than normal.
The salt of his dark-brown hair seems more plentiful.
He often burns the midnight oil for days on end in his laboratory.
But this is something different…more than physical exhaustion, like something is weighing on his soul.
“Would you care to explain yourselves?” the vicar asks us both as soon as the door shuts. But his attention remains solely on me.
“I was just—”
“She was looking out for me,” I say hastily.
Whatever excuse Mum would think up isn’t going to be as good as mine.
I glance her way, trying to say, Let me protect you, with my eyes alone.
I might not be the real Valor Reborn, but as long as the vicar thinks I am, I’ll use it to shield the people I love.
And I know exactly what the vicar wants to hear.
“When the dragon landed, I felt a pull—almost like a draw of Etherlight—and I had to rush to attack it.”
The vicar’s eyes shine. No one else would notice it. But it reminds me of how a dragon regards its prey. With eager brutality. “And what of this pull of Etherlight now?”
“It faded when the dragon perished and the threat was gone.” Do the words sound too much like a script? I’ve been kicking them around ever since Marius marched us here.
He clicks his tongue. “A shame. But you will have time in the Tribunal, and Mercy after, to hone your skills as our great slayer reborn. I’m sure it will come to you soon.
” He speaks as if he hasn’t tried to wring the power from my bones every day for six years during our often brutal training sessions.
I hold up my wrists as he approaches, a heavy key in hand. As my shackles are unlocked, I ask, “My mum?”
There’s a second of hesitation where I think he’s about to refuse. In Vinguard, lawbreakers aren’t kept long. If they’re found guilty, they’re sentenced to labor in the quarries of the Undercrust, excavating stone for the Mercy Knights to use to repair the wall. Or put to death.
And I know which one the vicar would choose for her.
But in the end, he turns to her and unlocks her shackles as well.
“In the future, your concern is unnecessary. Our savior has the skills to keep herself safe. Or the Creed and our Mercy Knights will protect her. You can rest easy,” he says to her, voice ominously low.
But what he means is, Stay the hell away from the Creed’s favorite symbol, you heretic; you’re only alive because killing the mother of Valor Reborn would look bad.
My hands ball into fists for just a split second. But as soon as they do, I feel eyes on me. My gaze drifts to Lucan’s. He didn’t miss it.
Going to tell on me for this, too? I ask with a look.
If Lucan sees it, he doesn’t answer.
I start for the door, glancing at my father as I pass him. His tired expression doesn’t change. Nor does he move for me for any kind of embrace. But his eyes are full of worry and compassion…at least for me. He shows Mum nothing.
It’s been easier to accept as I’ve grown, but I still have a hard time understanding how he could love Mum for twenty years and then be a stranger to her.
I know how difficult her personality is.
But so did he when he proposed to her with a handmade ring, etched with a sigil that, to this day, Mum has kept to herself.
The rain has cleared when we emerge from the tower into a small square. The moon’s a talon in the sky, its faint light glinting off a wet, dark city. It’s late enough that the streetlights have been extinguished and shutters drawn to avoid attracting dragons.
Not that it does any good… The dragons attack whenever they please. More frequent year over year.
“I’m going to say goodbye to Mum,” I announce to my father and Lucan, the edge of a challenge creeping into my words.
Maybe it’s because the vicar stayed back to talk with the Mercy Knights in the tower.
I’m sure he’s threatening them not to spread rumors about the Creed’s precious Valor Reborn.
The mere thought puts an angry edge in my voice. “I’ll just be a moment.”
Neither of them stops me as I stride across the square to where Mum waits at the street leading to her apartment.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I really had been planning to give you a good dinner before the Convening.”
“I know.” I put my hand in my pocket, closing it around the jar as I position my body in a way that my father and Lucan can’t see what I’m doing.
Grabbing her wrist with my other hand, I place the jar in her palm and close her fingers around it.
Her eyes widen and lips part slightly. Just the sight of the jar has a chill running down my spine as I remember the writhing, tightening feeling of the Ethershade and Etherlight compressing around me.
“Wasn’t a total waste of a night, though. I got this for you.”
Mum’s gaze darts to Father and Lucan before she quickly pockets it. “Isola…”
“I know it’s why you ran to the dragon. Well, one of the reasons.” I smile weakly. “Look, it might be too late for me, but please, complete your research, Mum. Try to figure out what the curse really is and how to end it.”
“Too late for you?” she repeats faintly, brow furrowing. Her hand finds my cheek. “What do you mean, dear girl?”
“Mum, I… I’m not a child anymore.” My throat is thick, and not from any magic in the air. Not from the scourge. “Most people don’t need the tinctures to make their bodies feel right.”
Her hand rests on her pocket where the jar is.
But I know what’s in both our minds is a different glass vessel—a small vial filled with the mysterious liquid only she can make for me.
A remedy for the aches and shakes and sweats.
Something that makes my mind and my heart a bit calmer.
That allows me to be around sigils without wanting to peel off my skin.
“And I’m aware that the way I feel is not because I’m Valor Reborn.
If I was, I’d be able to draw Etherlight without sigils by now.
” I stare at my toes and will my tears not to fall.
I’ve cried enough nights over this, and it never made it better.
I lift my chin and force a smile even though happiness is the last thing I feel. “Which means I’m cursed. Aren’t I?”
Her entire face crumples. Lines fold at the corners of her mouth, between her brows, around her eyes. “Isola…”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, the urge to comfort her winning out over my own terror.
Even though we both know that if I am cursed, it’ll mean my death.
And soon. “I figured it out a while ago. You’re making tinctures to help the side effects of it.
Maybe I was so susceptible to the curse—whatever it is—that it came early.
My eyes changed gold but just never went to slits?
Maybe your tinctures really have kept the rest of the transformation at bay.
“But once I’m locked away in the monastery for the Tribunal, I won’t get any more.
So I’ll probably change, then. But I still wanted to get you what I could today.
Maybe it’s too late for me for whatever cure you might find.
But there are generations of children who need you, so please don’t give up on your research.
I… I wish I could’ve helped more, done more for you and all of Vinguard. ”
Without warning, she pulls me in close, clutching me like it’s the last time she ever will. Like this is goodbye. I stare up at the talon moon as it blurs with tears I’m fighting so hard not to let fall.
“I will get you another tincture. I will not let them kill you,” she whispers, words as strong and sharp as a Mercy dagger.
“But—” The monastery is locked for three weeks during the Tribunal, and no aid can be given to those inside, I don’t have a chance to say.
“Have faith, Isola.”
“You’re not one to quote the Creed,” I choke out with a weak laugh.
“Not in them. In yourself. You are so much stronger than you know. But they will do things to you in there…horrible things that should never be forgiven, and they’ll tell you it’s normal. Don’t let them win.”
“Isola.” The vicar’s stern tone is like an axe that cleaves us apart.
I hate that I pull away on instinct at the sound of his voice. Mum smiles sadly. I wasn’t the only one fighting tears, and that makes it worse.
“Isola,” Father echoes, far gentler. “You should rest before tomorrow.”
I still look at Mum. She gives a slight nod. I don’t want to speak. It feels like if I don’t, then time won’t continue. Tomorrow will never come. I’d be stuck here forever, but I’d be alive.
“I love you more than Etherlight.” I finally whisper the first half of our goodbye.
“I love you more than all the Ether in the world,” Mum finishes before stepping away into the dark streets of Vinguard.
It isn’t until I’m walking back across the square that I realize she never actually answered my question—she never confirmed I was cursed.
It’d probably be too cruel to expect her to.
What mother could readily admit to their child that they’re going to transform into a monster—that they’re going to die?
“…and will it be ready tomorrow?” I barely hear the vicar ask Father as I approach. Lucan stands at a distance. Told to, I assume.
“It will,” Father replies.
They silence as I approach. It’s obvious they’re talking about the Tribunal, so I don’t ask. They won’t tell me anyway. All I know is whatever my father made isn’t going to be good for any of us who are about to be locked away for three weeks.
Father is as expressionless as ever as we walk home. Fortunately, the vicar and Lucan go their own way. At least if the Tribunal is good for just one thing, it’s helping me avoid a scolding.
I murmur a soft, “Good night,” to Father as we cross the threshold of our home. Everyone else is already asleep. But I know that even though I should rest, sleep will evade me.
As soon as the sun rises, the Convening will finally be upon me, and the Tribunal will begin.