36 - Iona #2
A gasp from the crowd makes me jump, searching for any sign of the Zerynthos coven, until I find Phoebe across the crowd of faces, pointing upwards to the flank of the volcanic crater where Ariadne now stands wearing only her chemise.
I see her there, her unparalleled beauty unmarred, everything about her seemingly unaltered, except for her devious red eyes. They reflect nothing of the woman I have come to know, to love. They hold resentment and the promise of violence. Not Ariadne, but Katrin.
“We must go now,” I say, just as a mournful howl resounds from the west, an awful, sorrowful sound.
“Why would you tell such a terrible falsehood?” Frankie asks. “Ariadne is there. She is not dead!”
“She is,” I insist. “That is not her.”
“Why is she wearing the pendant?” Crescentia whispers.
Katrin surveys the crater, the many covens converged like lambs to slaughter, until her eyes rest on Marcel and his friends, and her eyes darken with distaste as the pendant’s opal emanates an ominous red glow.
“Marcel!” I scream, and he immediately turns to look my way, a friendly smile forming on his lips when he sees me.
At the sound of my cry, Katrin’s gaze shifts to me, a menacing smile forming on her lips as she incants, “Hirudovis.”
The effect is immediate. Every single witch and warlock fall to their knees from the harrowing force of the leeching spell.
I flinch away, bracing myself for the familiar agony, but pain doesn’t come.
When I open my eyes, a protective shield is emitted from the staff’s labradorite stone, protecting me, Crescentia, and Frankie from harm.
The others left outside the shield scream with anguish as their power is ripped away.
“What is she doing?” Crescentia screams and clings to me with fright.
“It’s not her,” I insist. “It’s Katrin.”
Crescentia and Frankie’s stricken expressions are nearly enough to fracture what’s left of my composure, but I haven’t time to mourn with them. I make a portal to the very first place I can think of; the sea cliff in Cornwall where my first home once stood.
“Run! Run to the portal now!” I cry.
Some try to struggle to their feet, but the pain of the spell keeps them prostrate. All except Marcel and his friends whose magic is stolen away in too short a time, releasing them from the spell only to weep over their great loss.
“Run!” I scream at them, and many obey, jumping through the portal and away from the awful scene.
Marcel stays back to ensure everyone makes it across, helping those still recovering from the pain, and directing them to the portal.
A low rumbling growl is the only warning given before molten fire rains down upon us. Morgan’s dragon emerges, perching on the edge of the crater, and when Katrin points to the sky, he unfurls his wings and launches himself into the air.
His flames engulf the few of Marcel’s friends still left behind.
They shriek, tossing and turning to try and escape the fire that blisters their flesh, until they collapse to the ground dead.
Marcel saves who he can, then sprints across the dirt, ducking and weaving to evade the torrents of flame, making his way to the portal.
“Keep hold of me!” I yell, then run with Crescentia and Frankie flanking me, careful not to leave the bounds of my protective magic. “Run Marcel!”
Mere moments before my magic can cloak him, the dragon lets loose another alluvion of fire that swallows him whole.
“No…” I stop short, but I haven’t a moment to process the loss before the dragon redirects his destructive path, targeting the covens instead, and I scream, “NO!”
My shield shimmers, then blasts apart, it’s glistening bounds stretching out far and wide to cover almost the entirety of the crater’s circumference, releasing the covens from the curse that plagues them, and keeping the dragon’s flames at bay.
“Get up!” I scream. “Run!”
They all make a mad scramble to the opened doorway as I fight to maintain the shield. The dragon spews fire and slashes at the boundary with his claws, while Katrin frowns at the new obstacle.
Frankie douses Marcel with water, his skin burned and blistered, but the softest of wheezes expels from his mouth as he clings to life.
Professor Yun separates from the crowd to take Marcel’s arm, pulling him through the portal and immediately administering healing magic on him the moment they’re through.
Then the ground trembles again, this time much worse than before, until it cracks open, pieces of earth floating upwards as lava rises from beneath them, pooling in a steady stream within the bounds of the shield, the volcano dormant no longer.
Along the edge of the crater, the Zerynthos Coven reveal themselves, looking down at them with emotions ranging from glee to triumph to apathy.
I try conjuring water to stave off the lava, as Ariadne had done in Lysander Forest, but to my great dismay, I feel my power waning.
I haven’t a clue how Ariadne managed to conserve it as she must have, and I’ve grown so accustomed to the pendant’s abundant magic that I’d almost forgotten the limitations of others.
The shield falters, letting in tendrils of flame. I employ every bit of strength I have to keep the doorway open as witches and warlocks trample over themselves to push their way through. Wisp attempts to corral them and aid those who’ve fallen, without being trampled underfoot.
“I can’t…” I wince. “I cannot hold it-”
“You must!” Crescentia begs, looking in horror at how many people remain.
“Go!” Frankie screams, directing people as Marcel had, lifting those who have fallen back to their feet, while Crescentia stays by my side to hold me up.
I lock eyes with Katrin, who smiles at my apparent weakness.
“We must go!” I don’t give Crescentia any recourse, gripping her arm and dragging her towards the portal.
Crescentia tries to pull away. “But Frankie-”
“We must get through!” I scream at him, and he doesn’t delay in following us and taking Crescentia’s hand.
When Wisp returns to me, I use what little magic I can spare to craft another portal so small we almost don’t fit but just manage to squeeze through moments before it closes behind us.
Then we run to the mouth of the original portal and grasp at outstretched hands to pull people through.
Kokuro, Phoebe, Nenet, and Lady Monton all make it out, with many already on the other side, more than half of the crowd.
I try to widen the doorway while still maintaining the shield, but my power fades, the shield giving way almost entirely.
My heart stops when I see him, and I scramble forward, trying to jump back to Nisyros, but Crescentia grabs my waist to hold me back.
“What are you doing?” Crescentia exclaims.
“Samuel!” I point through the doorway.
Still on the other side, he helps Phoebe’s grandmother, Eleanor, whose old bones no longer allow her to run.
I’d almost forgotten my invitation, my hope that Samuel might witness one of my rituals and find some solace in knowing that our family name will not be forever stained by Elise’s crimes.
I struggle against Crescentia’s hold, trying to make it through, but there is too vast a distance for them still to tread.
The shield collapses above them as the lava cages them in. Samuel withdraws his wand, positioning Eleanor behind him, then glances through the portal to meet my gaze, his eyes conveying something like gratitude, though for what I cannot imagine.
An eruption explodes, sending me and everyone close to the portal hurtling backwards from the blast of smoke and fire. The portal closes, and I collapse onto the frozen ground.
“Wake her up!”
“She must answer for this-”
“She would not have saved us if she were in league with the Zerynthos Coven.”
“How could you know? All is uncertain now.”
I groan, my head pounding, my muscles protesting, and I squint to behold a mob of witches and warlocks circling around me like a pack of hungry lions, regarding me with fear, disgust, anger, disappointment.
“She’s awake!” Someone yells.
“Stay back!” Crescentia screams.
She cradles my torso in her lap, her arms wrapped protectively around me, while Wisp snarls before me with her ears pinned back in distress. I tighten my hold on the staff and try to make a shield, but I’ve no magic left.
“Iona!” Crescentia’s arms pull me closer. “Are you alright?”
I nod, but when I try to move, I wince in pain.
“Give her room, for pity’s sake!” Frankie yells, waving the crowd back.
They roar with impatient cries, having little sympathy for my indisposition.
They yell pleas for help from those whose family members were left behind, cries of anguish for those whose loved ones were killed by fire and lava, and roars of anger from those whose magic is permanently stolen.
Magic that I can no longer recover for them. Not without the pendant.
The next hour is a blur of accusations and incomprehensible jeers as the crowd tries to make sense of what happened, all while I sit and stare out at the ocean in a state of frozen panic.
My heart pounds in my ears, making it difficult to decipher the pandemonium brewing behind me.
Crescentia’s hand rubs my back as she tries to bring me back to reality with soothing, insistent whispers.
Until Olesya Ulanova’s voice rings out. “How Ariadne Zerynthos stole the pendant, I cannot say, but we all know her sensibilities! Her temper! Her past! We’ve all dreaded her impending reign, and now it seems our fears are realized!”
“It is not her.” My throat is so dry, my voice comes out as a soft rasp.
“She’s gone mad, it seems,” Olesya ignores me. “It was only a matter of time. We all know what she did to Vivien Nicolo all those years ago. We know of Elise Lysander’s recent demise, which was achieved through the use of a malefician spell.”
“No, it’s not true,” I say, frustrated by my weakened voice.
“And you.” Olesya turns to glare at me. “For all we know, you are in league with these devils, too.”
“Of course not,” Lady Monton objects. “Why would she risk her own life to save ours if she were a malefician?”
“To trick us into trusting her,” Olesya says bitterly. “And even if she is not one of them, she was in their company for months. We’ve no assurance that her blood isn’t in their possession, that she isn’t cursed or controlled to be a spy in our midst.”
The thought makes my stomach turn. “I am no spy.”
“So you claim,” Olesya says. “You are only a failure, then. A pitiful excuse for a pendant bearer.”
“Leave her be,” Crescentia snaps. “If not for her, we would all be dead.”
“Half our council is either captive or slain! Many of our kin have been taken from us,” Olesya says, and it’s then I notice her husband is not by her side.
“Please, you must hear me.” I push myself up to standing and with effort I project my voice. “Ariadne Zerynthos is dead!”
The crowd murmurs with confusion and skepticism.
“I swear it. I felt her death through our bond. Her family are indeed the devils you describe. They took her and cast out her soul to implant Katrin’s instead-”
“A likely story” Olesya scoffs. “She would say anything to defend her lover’s honor.”
“She has stolen Ariadne’s body,” I insist. “Please, you must believe me!”
“We will do nothing of the sort!” Olesya spits. “You are not the leader Morgan promised. Whatever virtue she saw in you was spurious if you could not protect us from this calamity. The council, whomever of us remain, must convene so we might retaliate before it’s too late.”
“Perhaps casting a truth spell would alleviate any doubt,” Josephine Salvador suggests.
“Her mind could be altered in any number of ways,” Olesya protests with a glare.
“She would only regurgitate her skewed version of reality. Her own cousin was seduced by dark magic, and now her lover as well! Far too blatant a coincidence to be ignored. Her word cannot be trusted, and we mustn’t waste time arguing.
We must find refuge someplace remote and form a plan. ”
I scrutinize the crowd, searching for any allies, but find none. Only wary, disillusioned faces stare back at me, and some, like Gisela, pointedly avoid my gaze.
The earth trembles gently, enough to elicit cries of distress. We turn to the east where a plume of dense black smoke shrouds the sky, obscuring the moon and the stars, until total darkness falls and volcanic ash rains like snow.
“Is that…” Crescentia holds out her hand, catching pieces of soot in her palm. “But surely it couldn’t reach this far…”
“We must away,” Olesya cries, sparing a brief glance at me. “You are not welcome.”
“You cannot cast us out,” Crescentia protests, and my heart swells at her immediate loyalty, not implying for even a second that she would join them and leave me behind.
“If you are devoted to her, then you are no friend to me,” Olesya says to Crescentia, then addresses the crowd. “Any who wish to survive this doom, follow me!”
The crowd murmurs amongst themselves, but eventually every one of them either follows Olesya or goes off on their own to hide and wait out this storm. Josephine gives me a pitying glance before conjuring a broom and flying off into the black night. Only Crescentia and Frankie remain by my side.
I drag my heavy feet to the edge of the cliff where the oak and yew trees stand entwined.
Ariadne had conjured them for me over the ground where my childhood home once stood, their trunks twisting together, their branches bereft of leaves.
The winter wind stirs the ocean below, and I breathe in the briny air, falling to my knees before the twin trees, entirely unsure of where to go or what to do.
I long to cry, to succumb to the crushing weight of my despair, but I have nothing left.