Chapter 38 #3
Ma brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles.
She’s here. In person. She exists outside of my coma.
I thought that nothing in my dream state was real yet she’s right in front of me and now the tears are imminent.
But my body fights exhaustion and any other emotion because I remember the hunt for me is taking place outside.
“You don’t have to start anywhere. Please forgive my mistake, Liv. Avonde has written much about your ailment. I–I was meant to meet with you weeks ago.”
I shake my head. “Wait, but in my dream state, the curse, you were so special to me. How is this possible? Is your name, I mean, are you called Ma?” I ask, cringing at the question itself.
“My sister.” She grins sadly, leaning back and settling into her seat. “No, I am Grace. Marjorie was a warm soul. Curious to know your mind conjured her in that dream state. This is something I cannot answer, have not been able to answer.”
“You said she was a warm soul,” I say, knowing her implication.
Her eyes close briefly. “Unfortunately, my sister gave her life for the cess cause many years ago.” Her gaze lowers and she fiddles with a washrag in her hands, wrinkled with age. I reach forward and rest my hand on hers, understanding washing over me.
“And you’re a part of the Silent Sect?” Though she doesn’t seem “silent” to me.
“I work with them, yes. Though Marjorie was more talented than I was in spells and I can only try to make up for it in her wake. We’ve been studying your curse on King Cedric’s order.
There is not much we have been able to find but we had some theories to test. Now I see why you did not show. Are you hurt?”
Yes.
“No,” I lie and try to remember some of the maps I have looked at. “This is Adrian, right?” I ask, looking around the room once more. It’s so simple, just like our kitchen was in my dreams. I aimlessly walk over to the basket of elys sitting on the counter.
Ma motions to the table and I glance over my shoulder towards where the door was. “He won’t find you here,” she says, pulling a chair for me. “But yes, we are in Adrian. This house is cloaked. No one will be able to track you here.”
“But Cedric,” I start. There are so many questions.
“Will be here shortly,” she finishes. “Your signature is strong, very strong. I felt it.”
I nod in understanding. The pain in my body finally sets in as does the realization of what I have escaped from. There were many moments where it became clear that I would never see daylight again. That I would either be eliminated or be held for torture until I died.
So many dark moments…
I keep checking over my shoulder, afraid to be found. “I assume your sister, Marjorie, was at the castle then, too?” My mind cannot make the connection. Why was Marjorie, Ma, in my dream state? Sawyer was willingly there. Trentin and Haldon were likely figments of my imagination, fillers.
“Why of course, Marjorie visited Demis often aside from her work with the Silent Sect. We both knew you and your father from our training so many years ago.” Another forgotten face to deal with.
We sit still for a moment, many unspoken words shared. Though I do not remember her or her sister from my upbringing, I remember them in a different way and that alone washes over me in a wave of gratitude. In truth, Marjorie’s memory took care of me.
“Tea?” she asks, rising and moving towards the stove in the corner.
I nod, trying to breathe in the safety of this location.
I can’t hear any commotion outside, which means it must be secured well.
Cedric will be here soon and we will find retribution for the war Rolan has unjustly waged on Lux with the Nyxian forces.
The war can’t be that far along. Rolan never left. The torture never stopped.
“Do you know much about the Nyxians?” I ask, trying to avert my mind to other things. Grace stops pouring elys into a sachet. She looks over at me tentatively before returning to her task.
“That is a loaded question.”
“Anything you know would be useful. I think they are rising against Lux with Duresden.”
“The Nyxians are certainly not doing that,” Grace responds. She fills a kettle with water and lights the fire beneath the stove.
I turn to examine her more fully. The kitchen is filled with very simple, dainty decor. But the wallpaper is filled with stars. Her cess robes look different than what Avonde wears. Where Avonde’s are simple, Grace’s are dotted with faint sparkles.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” I ask, thinking about the symbols.
Grace shakes her head as she busies herself with wiping the counters down.
“How many are there? Do you know?”
She stops and turns to me, leaning against the counter.
“Not a lot, I’m afraid. The lineages between Lux and Nyx are so blurred now and a rift split them, the last I heard around these parts.
They’re underground, very underground. But your parents, I believe, are descendants of Nyxian royalty.
” She points to my hair. “The pale hair is a dead giveaway.”
The echo of Rolan’s sentiment hits harder now. I stand up and walk to the rusted mirror next to the short hallway that leads to another room. In this room, I see how my features are so different from Cedric’s.
“And Cedric…” I start.
“Is as pure as Luxians can be. From Martine’s line.”
“Why is there such a stark difference between the two kingdoms, yet they are mirrored opposites of one another?” The symbols all around the kingdom come to the front of my mind. Stars, moons, dark and light.
Grace pours two mugs, adding a fresh sprig from the basket and takes a seat. I join her.
“Nyx and Lux were sister kingdoms. Imagine the map of Lux as you know it split into two balanced halves, Nyx to the west and Lux to the east. Lux, being primarily vampyr, honed the continent’s magic wielders.
Their cess trained to be fighting forces with spells and magic under the Light Kingdom.
Nyx, on the other hand, trained their cess to be healers and their vampyr to be policy makers and ambassadors.
Magic wielders with an affinity for healing completed their rounds in the capital, Ithille, in the Night Kingdom. ”
I sip on my tea, imagining the history.
“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering what happened to Nyx,” Grace says, sadness clouding her features.
I nod, preparing myself for the story I’ve only heard in passing.
“Over a thousand years ago, the line to Lux’s seat brought an evil man to power when the kingdoms began to fully divide and establish after the great war.
King Martine grew tired of the infant mortality rates of Nyx.
Our people, you see, could not reproduce healers or apt men of the state fast enough for the wars Martine was waging.
He had a great army, no doubt, but a great army without sustainability is a weak one. ”
“Martine is Cedric’s grandfather,” I state because I know this. She nods.
“Who was the king of Nyx?”
“She was called Queen Cala Starleen. Your grandmother.”
I look down at my tea, immediately thinking about what she looked like. Did we look alike? Was her hair nearly white like mine?
“Cala fought the amendments Martine proposed. Conscripting humans to fight in vampyr battles, more blood suppliers to Lux, border shifting, you name it. Anything to satiate his need for power.”
Sighing, I understand what happened before Grace finishes. “He invaded.”
Finishing her cup, she sighs. “Yes, he invaded.”
“And the Nyxians? What happened to them?”
“Some joined ranks willingly and the cess merged into both healers and magic wielders. The vampyr spread out. Some were able to escape to Duresden and other kingdoms, some became willing citizens, others were executed.”
Images play in my mind of massive slaughters, families torn apart, refugees at unwelcoming borders. Something we are experiencing again.
“Cala was beheaded in front of her wife, they say. I think she did not make it out of the bedchamber that night. Her wife escaped, but her line has remained a mystery.”
“They murdered the queen in her bed?”
“It was no secret that Cala was extremely powerful. She was like you in that she was half cess, half vampyr.”
Before I can finish processing this information, a loud bang sounds on the other side of the house. Dust sifts down from the floor above us, my teacup shakes on the plate.
“Stay here,” Grace says, conjuring a cess flame in her hands and walking down the hallway into the other room I now suspect is the receiving room of this townhouse.
My eyes stay trained on the front door as she slowly approaches, the light barely illuminating her face as she presses her ear against the door. A few moments pass and I release a tense breath as she smiles, shrugging her shoulders.
Another bang sounds and she draws her cheek back to listen. I’m already halfway out of my chair when suddenly her face blanches, looking at me with wide eyes. “GO!” she yells.
The wall across from me transforms into a door again and the front door blasts open, Grace’s fragile form flying with the splinters.
I scream as her bloody body lands in a heap.
The Carver walks into the room, his boots crunching over broken glass and plaster, surveying the damage before his eyes land on me.
My own dart down to Grace and the door, measuring the distance.
Behind him I can see the carnage plaguing the town square.
He was destroying every building to find me.
“Filthy cess and their spells,” he snickers, stepping on her lifeless hand as he moves towards me. The hand that just held mine.
I turn to run to the door on the wall, my last chance at escape, but it has disappeared.
She’s dead. Grace is dead.
Tears brimming my eyes, I throw my hands out, hoping to disarm the Carver again. But nothing comes out. The hum beneath my skin has disappeared. My stores, what little I tapped, have drained and my body is exhausted.
“Poor birdy,” he coos. I try again, grinding my teeth. “There’s nowhere to run.”