Chapter Fifty-Four #2
‘A Star?’ He smiles through a sneer. ‘I suppose that is what I was once. Before I foolishly followed my siblings down here and became this.’ He waves at his body, as if he’s disgusted by it. ‘Eons I survived. Eons!’ he shouts.
‘Do you have any idea how demoralising it is to watch yourself deteriorate? To grow old and start to wither because your body can no longer contain the sheer amount of power inside of it ? It is debilitating! That’s why I chose your brother; I needed someone stronger – someone who could withstand my power for longer. ’
‘That doesn’t make sense. Achātēs built all this,’ I whisper.
Though, even to my own ears, it sounds more like a question.
It feels like I’m finally putting the last puzzle piece into an empty slot but I’m hesitating to let go.
Because I don’t know if I’m quite ready to look at the completed picture.
‘Yes. I did.’ He takes a step closer, slow and calculated.
For the second time tonight, time seems to freeze as realisation comes rushing down on me.
As his words penetrate, I realise how truly screwed I am.
I realise what I’m standing in front of.
Not a man obsessed with power and unwilling to let it go.
No, this … this is a Star. The Star that created Valmora Academy.
Achātēs.
Who did not die alongside his siblings like we were told in stories and history books.
But who has been travelling from one body to the next, from host to host, until the sheer magnitude of his power decays them.
Killing them from the inside out until he has to perform the spell again and find a new host. And Lukas was supposed to be next.
It all makes sense now and yet; all I seem to have are more questions.
Tentatively, I take a step back, my self-preservation instincts finally making themselves known as I seek distance from him.
A shockingly cold sense of dread courses through my veins when I realise I asked Tilly to get help, without knowing what I was asking Nicks to walk into once he gets down here.
I realise that I might not ever see Tilly again. I might never feel her warm embrace or squeeze her hand in silent comfort. I might never see Jed or Lillian … my parents …
Sebastian.
My heart aches at the thought of never looking into his deep green eyes again. Of never feeling his calloused hands gently caress my skin or hearing the comforting timbre of his voice.
I will probably die down here. Achātēs won’t let me leave knowing who and what he is.
So don’t make it easy for him. I tell myself. You heard what he said, his body is weakening. If he was supposed to discard this one for Lukas’s body months ago, that means he’s weaker than he lets on.
Maybe I do have a chance …
With one last ditch effort to not make my exit of this world easy, I feign tripping over the old woman behind me.
Using my legs to hide the hand searching within her robes for the silver object I spied when un sheathing my dagger from her skull.
My fingers fumble blindly, pushing away fabric until finally I feel the sharp edge of a blade as it nicks at my skin, biting into the flesh.
I push down the hiss of sudden pain and focus on pulling it from the belt at her waist, feeling relief wash through me that my gut was right.
When I rise, it’s with a dagger in each hand, though the one I stole is only half the length of mine.
Small and lightweight – perfect for throwing.
So that’s what I do. Before he can react, I fling the smaller dagger forward with a quick flick of my wrist. It slices through the air with speed, but unlike last time I don’t stand around to watch if it finds its target – hopefully his forehead.
Instead, I turn and run.
My legs and arms pump faster than I’ve ever pushed them before and all I can think is if I get far enough through these tunnels, will I find Tilly’s body lying limp and cold at the end of one of them?
The sound of Achātēs’ roar echoes behind me, spurring me on to sprint faster.
My hand reaches out to push off the wall as I fling myself around a bend and take off.
Just as I cross the threshold to a second tunnel, I feel a gust of air whip past in the spot I just was.
It misses me, but it’s strong enough to catch the ends of my hair and send tendrils lashing about behind me.
Fear kicks in alongside the knowledge that I’m running from the very being who gave air wielders their magic.
Who taught the very first of them how to harness his element and gave them the strength of Agate.
How, over generations, that power was forged into stone as bloodlines grew weaker and further separated from the Stars, and instead of having the power of Agate running in their veins, it was accessible through a physical thing.
This is the Star that created it, and he is hot on my tail, intent on hunting me down. There is no hope in my mind that I can defeat him, not on my own. But can I outrun him? I guess I’ll find out.