Chapter 22 （Elaine）Was it in vain?
Chapter 22 (Elaine)
Was it in vain?
T ears blurred my vision, and my heart clenched as nausea rose. I dug my nails into the ground, screaming into the night. Some of the mages were already inside. Oswald stopped and pulled on me.
“Come on. We need to get inside the tower.”
I heard him but couldn’t get myself to move.
“We need to hurry and hide behind the tower’s magic field,” he pressed. “What if the Shadow Weavers search for the heart? They’ll detect its magic right away.”
I knew he was right.
More so, the heart’s magic was so strong that it had a will of its own. The magic would seep and find someone to control. That was how strong draconic magic was; only a strong mage could resist and master it.
I followed Oswald, letting him drag me to my room. We locked the heart in a magical glass vial, one bigger than the one holding the claw. I drew a powerful rune on the vial, sealing the dragon’s magic.
When it was done, he turned to me. His usual bright orange eyes were dull.
His voice was full of sorrow. “Do you . . . do you need me to stay with you?” he asked.
I knew he only meant well, but I needed to be alone. I shook my head, unable to speak the words.
My friend nodded. “Okay, but if you ever need me, don’t hesitate. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I will be fine,” I murmured as I closed the door behind him.
I buried my face in my bed, letting the tears flow. The sheets still smelled of Mitra, and I wrapped myself in them, trying to impregnate my body with his scent. It was useless. I knew his scent would have disappeared in a day or two, even if I didn’t want it to.
I muffled a cry in my pillow, spitting out rage and pain. Why did he have to sacrifice himself? I shouldn’t have let him do it. I was so mad at myself for it. It was my fault he had been killed. My thoughts blurred, and I cried myself to sleep.
? There was a pounding. Each time, my head pulsed to the sound. Was it a dream? I opened my eyes, the sunlight entered through the window. I realized I hadn’t closed the blinds last night. Still, the pounding came back.
? “Grand Wizard,” called a voice.
? I rubbed my temples, trying to ease away the headache that assaulted me.
? “One minute,” I answered, hoping the pounding would stop.
? I checked in the mirror and realized I was still wearing the same clothes as to infiltrate the Shadow Weavers yesterday. With that realization came a flood of memories. I sucked in a breath. I needed to answer the door before they knocked again.
? “Yes?” I opened the door to see one of the castle’s servants.
? “Grand Wizard, the king’s army has been seen on the horizon. We believe they will arrive before noon.”
With Mitra’s death, the King’s arrival seemed trivial. Yet, I had to fulfill my role despite my bleeding heart.
“Is everything ready for the parade?” I asked.
The servant nodded.
“All right,” I answered. “Assemble everyone in two hours. Send the guards to gather everyone in town. Let’s prepare for the king’s arrival.”
The servant nodded and left. I let out a sigh. All I wanted was to mourn my lover’s death, but it seemed I wouldn’t be able to do so. I showered quickly and changed my clothes. I loosely tied my curly white-purplish hair, ensuring I’d look presentable for the king’s arrival.
I still had an hour before the parade. There was something I needed to do before then, so I headed for the tower.
When I entered the library, a cold silence filled the room. A few mages were there, but no one was talking. They all looked empty. Even Oswald was looking at books aimlessly. They all turned to me. I wanted to comfort them, but I could only stare with the same sorrow.
“Elaine,” whispered Oswald as he approached me with open arms.
I let him wrap me in a friendly embrace. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the hug wash over me. It wouldn’t heal my wound, but it felt good.
The other mages were there, all filled with the same pain. As a leader, I knew I had to say something. But how do we explain the death of one of our own?
“My friends,” I began with difficulty. I had to talk about his death, as hard as it was. “What happened last night was a tragedy. Our dear Mitra has left us.”
No. It wasn’t true. He hadn’t left us. It wasn’t as if he’d come to the end of his life and died. He’d been stolen from us. The Shadow Weavers had killed him. He should have come back with us. I shouldn’t have let him sacrifice himself, and I bitterly regretted it.
“Mitra sacrificed himself for us. He sacrificed himself so we could bring the dragon’s heart back to the tower.”
Was it worth it? I swallowed the sobs that wanted to rise through my words. I had to be strong for every one of them. I took a deep breath.
“Let’s not let his sacrifice be in vain. Let’s save elven magic. Let’s bring back the dragons. ”
I stopped speaking and studied everyone’s reaction. There was a long silence. I knew it was a lot to take in, but they also knew how close I was to him.
After a while, a mage said, “Yes, let’s save elven magic. Mitra would have wanted this.”
“Yes, it’s true,” cheered another.
And so on, everyone agreed, and the atmosphere became less heavy. People started throwing ideas in the air—the weirdest ideas of using heart magic to bring back the dragons. Some suggested consuming the heart to absorb the magic, but I was against the idea. Others suggested amplifying spells with the heart or opening a portal in time. No one had ever succeeded in manipulating time before. It was as if a universal law since the origins of our world prevented us from violating this sacred power: time. A bolt of lightning flashed through my mind.
“The Rod of Origins.” The words came out without me thinking about it. Everyone stopped talking and was listening. It was far-fetched, but it might work.
“They say the artifact can control time itself,” I breathed.
The wizards were speechless.
“That’s an excellent idea,” Oswald said.
“Except that the artifact has been stolen,” I added.
“Yes, that’s true,” replied another. “I was at Trinkets and Tronkets the other day.”
“All is not lost,” I added quickly, seeing people’s demeaned faces. “At least we have a plan. Let’s find the artifact, and we’ll figure out how it works.”
“Maybe we could even bring Mitra back to life?” asked one mage.
I stopped short. I hadn’t thought of that possibility, but it would be incredible, impossible, improbable, and yet . . .
“Let’s start by finding the artifact and seeing if what they say about it is true.”
The bells rang outside. It signaled that the king’s army was at the city gates.
“Quick, let’s get out. The king will be expecting us for the parade,” I urged everyone.
The idea of bringing Mitra back to life ran through my mind as we hurried outside. Could I even consider the possibility? The thought of it burned inside me and would crush me if I couldn’t make it happen. I was afraid of being hurt again, but I couldn’t push the thought away. It consumed me.
The sun was blinding and the heat overwhelming, but it was a perfect day for the king’s return. The servants had done well, and colorful banners hung everywhere between the houses and over the streets. People were throwing flower petals from their balconies, and down below, crowds were amassed along the main street. The king would be pleased, but I couldn’t help wondering how many dwarves had died.
The atmosphere was festive, and I pretended to smile. People began to applaud and shout as the king appeared at the head of his army. My blood ran cold as I caught sight of him. He looked old and had a beard of several days. But what struck me most of all was the darkness that inhabited him. Most elves were too preoccupied with seeing their loved ones returning from war or cheering to notice the subtle black lines running beneath the king’s almost translucent white skin, but I saw it. An evil aura exuded from him, and behind that winning smile, I could see how much he was now to be feared .
My eyes met his as he passed before me, and I froze . I wasn’t quick enough to hide my reaction, and a shiver of terror ran down my spine. Did he know I knew? Would he do something to me? I swallowed my saliva. He was clearly being controlled by something evil. I’d have to be very careful with Erendriel.