Chapter 11 #2
“I know,” I say finally, pacing the length of the window as I rub a hand over my jaw. My steps halt and I face her, my eyes closing on an exhale. “Let’s get it over with, then. We’ll do it tomorrow, and I’ll appoint you as my second-in-command.”
“Sir?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“You’re not afraid to confront me, and I need that by my side when times are tough.
I want you as my second. You can choose my third if you want, but I want you in control of the army and strategizing.
I watched you even before the battle and wanted to raise you up the ranks then.
From the recent informants that I’ve sent out, King Elion believes that there is no Aurelia left and no royal on the throne.
Let’s lie low for a while. I don’t want him suspecting that we survived. ”
“Yes, my king. Thank you,” is all she says before leaving.
“I have something for you,” Ivy says.
We walk up the grand stairwell leading to the council chamber as I take the scroll from her.
“This just came in from our messenger hawk. They found Isa,” she says. I halt on a breath and turn with disbelief. It’s been five years since they were taken with no lead in sight.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She stops with me. “Yes, but they think King Elion is wiping her memories somehow. We aren’t sure how they’re doing it, but Isa had a brief conversation with Orin a week ago.
She doesn’t remember our realm, claiming that she’s an orphan of Elderheim and was raised amongst her friend Ezra.
We found out that they keep moving her location, which is why it has been so difficult for us to track her.
They’re hiding her somehow. Orin wants you to meet him in Arcan to talk to her.
She’s ten and should still be able to Vision Walk.
Maybe you can refresh her while you’re there. ”
If she can Vision Walk, it would make it possible to refresh her memories.
If I can get my hands on her face, it should be able to work.
Shadovar tend to gain their unique capability at a young age, and hers was Vision Walking at age three.
We didn’t know what her power was until she started talking, giving us insight to our own memories when we touched her face, revealing hidden truths.
I remember that Elynor would flush in embarrassment over it.
We finally arrive in the council chamber with a swing of the doors to discuss what’s to happen while I am gone. Ivy, being second-in-command, will be in control of the armies. Should I not come back, we strategize my departure and come up with a solid plan.
I leave the chamber to ready myself for the long journey by grabbing a few of my weapons and Veil to the edge of the Elderheim border near a hole that allows me to make my way inside.
It takes me a moment to adjust as Elderheim’s power surges through me. Even though I can still access my magic, it’s not as strong as it is in my own realm, my reserves draining so much faster here.
Both realms have their own wards against the other, and right now, Elion has a border up, but there’s a crack in it near Red Hollow.
And although we’re still able to access the realm and our magic, it’s muted upon entering, only allowing me to shift or walk in the Veil.
Anything stronger and my power drains at a much faster rate.
With a glance down, I watch as the shadows on my fingertips disappear, feeling it settle beneath my skin.
Once across the border, I visualize Arcan and take a step, quickly arriving at our meeting spot—a local tavern—while shifting my appearance.
I have been to Arcan once before, but that was years ago, having met with a few discreet locals before the journey to find Isa began.
Orin is my third in command that Ivy appointed a few years ago. He offered to go in place of the other informant that I wanted to send, claiming that he was more skilled in tracking and was confident he could find Isa. Rightfully so.
Originally a large dark-haired male, Orin has also shifted into a new appearance. Only this time he’s shifted into a frail older male, and I’m assuming it’s to not scare Isa away.
“Orin.” I push the thought out, speaking in the Veil. His eyes lift as I slide into the chair across from him. “What have you found out?”
“She’s living at one of the orphanages here in Arcan.
She’s become close to a boy named Ezra and has a young instructor of sorts named Ren.
I’m not sure who Ren is, but he’s near her a lot.
She doesn’t remember anything, not even the battle when she was taken with Elynor.
I had to talk with her at a local archive just to get her alone.
I believe they’re wiping her memories with a Siphon. ”
“A Siphon? You’re sure? They haven’t been around for years. What makes you think that?” I ask.
Orin is also educated when it comes to each realm, having studied as a scholar prior to becoming a soldier for King Andre and now me.
“Siphons are able to pull energy from the land. It’s been said that they can do the same to a Fae’s memories as well, though it is not common knowledge.
It could be possible, and from what I’ve gathered, she has some of her essence but not much.
I can sense it, but she doesn’t know that she can wield.
She thinks she’s a halfling and knows her name, but she doesn’t remember anything else.
If they’re siphoning her memories, they’re pulling her essence out as well.
Whether it’s intentional or not is hard to say. ”
I exhale, speaking aloud. “It’s going to be hard convincing her.”
“Mm, I agree,” Orin grunts.
An hour passes as I finally arrive outside the orphanage and watch Isa from a distance.
My heart clenches as the sight of her—identical to Elynor with her black hair, except for her bright amber-colored eyes.
More yellow than orange. She belongs in Aurelia, and I can’t stand the thought of her being here any longer.
We’re so close to bringing her home—I can’t fail this time.
She’s gathered around a few of her friends when I make my approach near the trees of the orphanage’s courtyard, disguised as someone much younger than my current self.
“Hello.” I grin.
She briefly turns my way when she waves her friends off, walking up to me with a soft smile. A solo freckle sits under her right eye while the others are splashed across her nose.
“Hello, do I know you?” Her voice softens, but I hesitate before answering, unsure how she’ll respond.
“You met my friend at the archives about a week ago,” I say casually.
She stills, her eyes widening. “No, I don’t know you.” She anxiously looks over her shoulder, continuing in a hushed tone, “I’ll tell you what I told that old man last week. You have the wrong girl. I’m an orphan, and I’m from Elderheim.”
“No, Isa, you’re not,” I mumble, her eyes somehow widening even more.
“How do you know my name? Who are you?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I quickly reach for her face just as I shift into my true form as Rydian, but the hope I had for her vision capabilities dissipates when my fingertips graze her temples—her essence is dark.
It barely brushes my mind when she pushes me off, shouting and frightened. I shouldn’t have grabbed her.
“No! I don’t know you! Please, leave me alone!” she screams, backing up as tears stream down her face. “Guards! Ren!”
No, not again. I groan, and my eyes flick behind her, looking to see if anyone heard her yelling, before lunging for her arm. She can travel with me through the Veil. I just need to touch her. My fingers graze her when she reels back and slaps me, bolting in the direction of the orphanage.
Whether it’s instinct or fear of failing, I chase after her, and she runs right into the arms of a light-haired boy near the back entrance. My steps halt as I realize that he must be the younger kid, Ezra.
An older one follows him around the corner—sixteen or seventeen, maybe. He glances behind Isa and meets my gaze, spotting me near the trees in my true form. Fuck.
The massive kid, Ren, I think, shouts for guards who are now heading in my direction, leaving me no choice but to step into the Veil as they swarm me.
I arrive at the border within seconds, my power already feeling depleted, realizing that I can’t go back.
I’m left with no choice but to leave Isa behind.
Ice coats my veins as a guttural, angry shout tears through me. But the moment I cross the ward between realms, my shadows explode from my palms, shattering the trees in a cloud of darkness.
Ivy sits to my right as other members sit across from us in the council chamber. We’re discussing the future of sending more trackers and informants to Elderheim in search of Isa.
Ever since I made an appearance to retrieve her, they’ve successfully kept her hidden from us. But how are they doing it? The thought has plagued me since I left fifteen years ago, but every time we catch a lead, they vanish without a trace.
“We need to move forward, Your Majesty. We can’t do this forever, and we’ve lost too many informants as it is.
They’re tired and scared of never returning.
We have fewer and fewer informants willing to travel to Elderheim to track her.
We’re chasing a ghost,” Ivy explains, earning a few nods from the remaining members.
She’s not a ghost. She’s alive.
Yet it’s been fifteen years, and I can’t sleep—I can’t eat or function.
The thought of her in that realm turns my stomach, and I refuse to give up because she’s the last royal of this realm since we’re still unable to locate Elynor.
Kaeda hasn’t even been able to find her as a Death Whisper within the Veil, speaking to the dead—Elynor’s essence simply can’t be found, leaving me to believe she’s still alive.
King Elion’s motive for their capture remains unknown, even after all these years.
We’ve dug through every inch of our archives and informants’ notes for any information.
Not even the council knows. If Elynor were here, she would have been able to add some input to this mystery—but she’s not. And I need to live with it.
I nod, acknowledging Ivy’s concern, and pull at my long beard. I refuse to give up on either of them, but I know that I need to. For my sanity and the future of Aurelia. Yet I’ve spent most of my years as a king in search of both of them.
Maybe I am chasing a ghost. Maybe focusing on this realm is what I need to do. I could marry and create new heirs if I really wanted to, but ever since I got my mark a few years ago, I wanted to wait.
Orin suddenly storms through the double doors, leaving us to all swivel our heads in his direction, spotting the scroll clutched in his hand.
“A scroll has arrived. Our last informant has sent word back,” Orin says.
I stand, bracing my hands at the head of the table, my shaggy auburn hair falling to my brows. “And?”
Orin continues. “They found her. Again. She’s alive and is living at the king’s castle.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, hope rising in my chest.
“Yes, you need to go back. She lives near Alvonia,” he says.
Leaving the council members, I rush into the corridor and fall into step besides Orin toward my living quarters, Ivy trailing closely behind. Grabbing my pack, I toss it on the bed and begin throwing items in there for the journey.
“Ivy, I need you to lead the armies and informants similar to the last time I left. We’re not leaving that realm without her.
If there’s a war, so be it, but I expect you to prepare them for what lies ahead.
After that, I want you to meet me in Sylvanor in a few days to discuss strategy and to meet with my contact from Eldryn.
I’m hoping to reach her through the Veil if it’s possible.
” I grab a few of the Veil coins, hoping to somehow find a way to give her one or reach her when we sleep.
“Of course.” She turns on her heel, exiting a second later.
I grip Orin’s shoulder. “Thank you for standing by me when I needed you.”
“It’s been my pleasure, Your Majesty. I’ll see you both in a few days. Be careful,” he says with a curt nod.
Walking into the bathing chamber, I reach for my straight blade and watch as the hair falls off my face, uncovering the sharp lines of my jaw. My reflection reveals the hope in my eyes for the first time in years, and a declaration to come back with Isa or die trying.
Arriving in Elderheim the next day, I check into a local inn located in Alvonia after making my travels from Arcan and meet with the informant the same night at the Painted Bird—a local brothel, but masks are required.
As I slip through the dimly lit corridors, my eyes land on a figure down the hall. Yet the moment I see her in the dim light, she feels… familiar.
She suddenly turns in my direction, slamming into my chest, but the way she studies me—though masked—feels as if she holds my soul in her palms, her eyes as entrancing as her voice. Then we part ways.
The next evening comes at the inn when someone knocks at my door, and I open it only to see—
Isa.