18 - Iona
P anting heavily, Iona climbs to the top of a sand dune beneath a nearly full moon and a glittering expanse of bright stars.
Despite the sweat coating her brow, she shivers from the unrelenting chill of the endless desert, a sea of sand stretching out in all directions.
Nenet trudges ahead of them with frantic strides, her feet slipping through the shifting sand in her haste, with Ariadne close behind her.
“When did you last see her?” Ariadne asks.
“At midday. She went to her room after we’d shared meal and…” She doubles over, panting heavily from her exertions. “My mother went upstairs to read with her, but she was not there, or anywhere in the house.”
“She can’t have gotten very far,” Iona says. “We will find her.”
Nenet’s face creases with worry. “We’ve sent letters everywhere we could think of, asking her to return home, but we’ve received no answer.”
Iona wonders if they should bring Samaira here to use her ring. Surely in such a desolate place Sara’s thread would be easily spotted.
Samaira would only be a liability, Ariadne thinks.
Iona frowns. Why?
She does not fight. She is a pacifist, Ariadne explains. If this ends in a battle, we would be at a great disadvantage, dividing all our efforts to protect her.
Iona’s brow furrows. Even so, her guidance would be exceedingly helpful.
They cannot search the entire desert, even with the help of Nenet’s parents and friends, who are searching in other areas. She can hear them calling Sara’s name in the distance, when a thought emerges.
“Meydana cikarmak,” Iona incants.
A trail of black and blue maleficium emerges, floating through the air like smoke. She follows it down the slope of the dune, in the direction of the north star, then climbs up another dune, and stops short.
“What are you doing here?” Marina asks, her red eyes wide.
“I… What are you doing here?” Iona asks, dumbfounded.
“The stars led me here,” Marina says, and she looks up, as if surprised she did not know this would happen.
“Marina?” Ariadne says. “How did-”
“The girl,” Marina says. “Has she been found?”
“No,” Nenet says when she joins them. “What business do you have in this desert?”
“The stars told me of tragedy this night,” Marina says, her voice soft. “I came to see if I might be of use.”
Tears pool in Nenet’s eyes, but she blinks them away. “We cannot stop. We must keep looking for her. She must be… She must be so frightened.”
Nenet runs ahead again, tripping over her feet and kicking up sand everywhere, as she follows the trail of maleficium still lingering in the air, unveiled by Iona’s spell.
They follow her in earnest, their panting breaths and the distant cries of Sara’s name from the rest of the search party the only sounds in the great expanse.
That the stars bothered to tell of Sara’s disappearance only fuels their collective dread.
At the peak of yet another dune, Iona leans against her shaking knees, her muscles screaming at her to stop. She looks back at Marina, marking the concern on her face.
“Do you feel it?” Marina asks in a low voice.
“Feel… what?” Iona pants.
“Darkness,” she says, her red eyes wide with fear.
Iona straightens and looks around, searching for any changes in the atmosphere.
Straining her perception, she does sense the slightest trace of malignancy, that which she is now acutely familiar.
It had once filled her up, burning through her veins and spreading across her skin, when Elise had attempted to turn her into a wraith.
“Be on your guard,” Marina says when she reaches the top of the dune, then shakes her head with frustration. “You should not be here.”
“Where would I be but here, aiding Nenet?” Iona asks.
Marina only sighs and continues on. Nenet and Ariadne are very far ahead of them now, mere dark specks on the horizon.
“Wait,” Marina grasps her arm, holding her back. “Look.”
From their high vantage point, they spot an oasis in the midst of the rolling dunes.
“The stars,” Marina murmurs, points up, then down at the oasis. “We must hurry.”
Ariadne and Nenet notice their diverted path and sprint towards them.
“Is she near?” Nenet asks. “That stupid girl! I told her not to search for her wand. I should have known she would sneak away. I should have watched her… I should have…”
“We will find her,” Ariadne says.
“Does she not realize the danger she’s in?” Marina asks.
“My parents thought it wise to withhold the truth from her, to shelter her,” Nenet huffs angrily. “They did not want her to be afraid, but it would have prevented this.”
They reach the peak of the second dune and on the other side, they approach the flourishing oasis. Palm trees and grass border a pool of clear water; the still surface littered with lotus flowers.
“I do not know of this place,” Nenet says with an uneasy expression. She circles the pool of fresh water, searching for any sign of her sister.
“Lotus,” Marina says softly, sharing a meaningful look with Ariadne.
“What is it?” Iona asks.
“It might not be…” Marina sighs. “Did you learn of floromancy at college?”
“A bit,” Iona says. “But I thought lotus flowers represent purity.”
“They can also be an omen of death.” Ariadne’s voice trembles.
Iona blanches. “But… that does not mean-”
A heart wrenching scream of misery pierces the air.
“No…” Ariadne sprints in the direction of the sound.
Iona’s legs turn to lead, holding her in place, even as she longs to move. Across the oasis, beyond the pool of lotus flowers, Nenet weeps over her sister’s lifeless body.
“We were too late,” Marina relents, her gaze lifting to the stars, persistent confusion in her eyes.
Nenet’s cries are heart wrenching, the sort of sounds one can never forget, that which become a permanent fixture of the mind’s definition of suffering.
Just like the attack in Brazil, the poor girl’s chest has been ripped open, the viscera of her organs spilling out onto the grass, her blood staining the sand.
Ariadne hesitantly puts an arm around Nenet’s shoulders and holds her as she’s wracked with sobs. She covertly inspects the corpse’s chest, then looks to Iona, her red eyes brimming with tears not of sadness, but rage.
The liver is missing.
Iona sucks in a breath, realizing what this might imply. Could it be the same malefician? The weight of that prospect makes her even heavier, until she fears she might sink into the sand beneath her.
She cannot bear to look at the dead girl, her young face so full of promises now broken. She turns away, her breath coming in heavy gasps, her tears overflowing, until she goes rigid.
There, in the distance, a dark womanly figure stands motionless, draped in black with a hood obscuring their face, which is also wrapped with black strips of fabric.
A golden dagger is strapped to their hip, the handle still dripping with blood.
Iona stares at the hunched figure, who watches them in silence, so still that she might have been made of stone.
Iona chokes on a scream stuck in her throat.
She blinks.
The cloaked figure stands before her, now only an arm’s length away. Iona screams, and the sound breaks any hesitance the figure clung to. The malefician lunges for her, reaching for her throat.
“No!” Ariadne cries.
“Propulsar!” Marina casts, her black nephrite wand drawn.
The assailant is thrown backwards, tumbling over the sand like a stone skipping across water. Marina runs after them with a determined, clear gaze. The figure jumps to their feet, then hovers, dodging spells and throwing a few of their own that Marina deftly avoids.
Wisp’s fur ripples as she shifts to her full size, a monstrous beast large as a bear, and curls herself around Iona.
“Run!” Ariadne calls from across the oasis, a protective shield already covering her, Aster, and Nenet.
Wisp nearly rips Iona’s dress with her teeth as she throws her witch onto her back and gallops at full speed towards Ariadne. Clutching Wisp’s fur for dear life, Iona looks behind her at the malefician, who ignores Marina’s barrage of spells, darting through the air in Iona’s direction instead.
“Neró,” she screams, turning the small pond into a wave that hits the malefician with brutal force, knocking them off balance just long enough for her and Wisp to reach Ariadne.
Sliding off Wisp’s back, Iona runs into Ariadne’s outstretched arms and clings to her.
“Why is she not running?” Nenet points beyond the protective barrier.
Nimble and quick, Marina manages to hold her own against the malefician, narrowly avoiding the spells slung at her.
“Sastri!” Marina conjures a spike of solid iron that she hurls through the air.
Again and again, she throws the spikes until one impales the figure’s shoulder, making them cry out in pain.
“You’ve made your kill! Now leave us be!” Marina screams.
The malefician’s shoulders shake with silent laughter as she pulls the spike from her shoulder and tosses it to the ground. Holding her arms out wide, she throws back her head to gaze up at the sky.
First as a trickle, then as a steady stream, blazing fire rains down in clumps of red that turn the sand into molten glass wherever they fall.
Ariadne’s shield protects them from the brunt of it, but Marina is left to evade the torrent of flaming meteors, blocking as many as she can until one strikes her in the chest, making her scream in pain as it sears her flesh.
“Marina!” Iona cries, not understanding why she won’t run.
“Stay there!” Marina cries, cowering in the sand as the malefician slowly lowers themselves to the ground and stalks toward her.
Iona goes to run for her, but Ariadne grasps her arm.
“No!” Ariadne holds her back.
“We cannot leave her to die!” Iona cries.
“I’ll go and-” Ariadne’s eyes becomes so wide, that Iona whirls around, expecting the malefician to be directly behind her.