Chapter 21
twenty-one
. . .
Ever
Sweat races down the valley of my spine as I focus, but nothing happens.
“Again, Ever.”
“I’m trying.” My teeth grind together, and I add my jaw to the list of parts of me that ache.
“You aren’t. I can’t even feel you,” the Usher taunts as he stands opposite, expecting me to do something, perhaps like I did in the training ring.
“If you would just let me—”
“No. You have to be able to do this without touch. You can.” The Usher’s voice screeches as he grows tired of ‘instructing’ me.
How he expects me to close the tear of light and dark he’s created in the sky above him, I have no fucking idea. Especially as everything I’ve manifested as a physical reaction here has been dark. Shadowy.
The voice from Ascella screaming at me that I’m death is pretty fucking loud here.
I need to rest. All day. I feel empty. My mind is clouded with doubt, and I can’t even imagine being able to do any of the things I know I already have, let alone what Fenix is able to, with this constant emptiness filling me up.
“Show me. How did Fenix learn?” The words crack as I ask.
“You fall back on the limits of your magic. Instead of embracing the possibilities.”
I turn my back to him, his voice, the pebble to ripple the anger inside of me and disturb my calm. It’s only my depleted energy keeping it from ruling over me. That, and the agreement I made with Ten and Crimson. I can’t do anything that would put that in jeopardy.
“If you could just teach me. Or let Fenix teach me. Instructing me to focus and concentrate and project my power is not good enough,” I snap.
“Novandia is all around. He is in the very light that shines over the world. He does not limit or require balance.”
I know this. It feels like they have such a hang-up on power and having it limited by Aslendrix, that they need to constantly remind themselves, as if they don’t, they might forget why they are doing all of this.
“You can already use your power without touch. I’ve seen you.
You just need to focus on that ability and channel it.
Work it like a muscle. Train it to do more.
” His voice peels off, leaving me with a sense of understanding.
It reminds me of what Calix told me. Only that’s not how it manifests in me.
In Kirrasia, every touch, every combination of power felt like it replenished my own energy.
Without that same touch and connection, here, when I try to use my power, I’m dredging the bottom of the well, pulling on something that’s already empty. It doesn’t work.
When I entered Orion’s memory, it was by accident. I was trying to get him to focus on the one intention that Aten was innocent and not to banish him.
Everything was falling apart, and I had to do something. Anything.
With my brother, it is always anger that pulls the trigger.
“Fenix will help me. You want us to work together?” I level the question at the old man. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, so help me in return. Where is he?”
After yesterday, I’d assumed he’d be training with me, but he’s a no-show.
“He isn’t available. He has his own tasks to see to. Yours is to learn to push your magic past the confines of Aslendrix.”
My head falls back, and I look up at the sky. “How? How did Fenix do it? If you won’t let me work with him, explain it to me.” I was beginning to lose all patience with the same story over and over again.
We’re not in the training ring, and we’re out of sight of the cave where Ten and Crimson are held.
“Fine. Sit.” He sinks to the ground, more gracefully than I’d expect, and I join him, happy to rest. “Fenix came to me before his Fifth abilities were present. He didn’t show any signs due to his young age and how far away from Kirrasia he was.
But I knew who he was and the potential he possessed—what a Fifth can do.
Thanks to Aslendrix’s curse, Novandia’s magic was confined.
But, at very specific times, that can be manipulated, and Fenix was able to benefit from that, going through his own Transference of sorts.
But instead of having his abilities throttled, Novandia was gracious and bestowed everything he would have been under Aslendrix and more. ”
“But, how?”
“An eclipse is a time when Aslendrix’s power is blocked.
There are all kinds of eclipses, all resulting in differing opportunities.
A full eclipse gave Fenix that opportunity, and he was there to absorb the abundance of power.
He is Kirrian, born under Aslendrix, and so has magic in his veins.
That made it possible for him to withstand his new gift.
And he trains with it. Uses it. Pushes it, strengthens it, and has made his skill into a weapon that is unrivalled. Until now.”
“You’re so sure I’ll be able to support you just because I’m his sister and a Fifth?”
“He will help bring the correct order to Kirrasia and the rest of our world. But he needs you. You were born to be together. Born of two Fifths. The ultimate weapon to force change.”
Force change? The words crawl under my skin, but I don’t react. “So, it’s because of who we are, siblings, that you need me.”
“You aren’t just siblings, Ever. Fenix is your twin.
Your power individually can be great, but together, there is no limit to what you might do.
Two Fifth’s combining magic is what the Orders went to war over.
That is why your parents were killed. They fell in love and were forbidden to be together because the Orders feared what power they had together.
You and your brother are simply following in their destiny. ”
Destiny? Twin? I’m still wrapping my head around the concept of him being my brother. A twin? I think of Calix and Crimson. Best friends, close, dedicating their lives to each other, even wanting to be part of a Triune together.
Nausea rolls in my stomach, but behind the visceral reaction, a part of me craves the thought of a family, and what my parents would have wanted. To be a part of something that mattered—part of something that is simply more. Someone who is my blood, who belongs to me.
The image of Ten appears in my mind, and I scream his name down our connection, needing him to hear me now more than ever. But there is only a vibration along the tether that holds him to me. Nothing more.
“I think that’s enough for today.”
The following day, they escort me along the path that will take me back to the training ring, where hopefully, I’ll see Ten and Crimson. I’ve had no word from them, no news, other than knowing that Ten’s still alive through our connection.
My brother hasn’t come to speak to me, issue demands, or wind me up, which is always a plus. But it’s been… laboursome. Even though I’m exhausted and my energy is low, I’m restless being confined. The time I’m left to myself only offers up space to think. To question.
Behind bars and alone.
The folded pieces of paper I scribbled on during our passage here are now worn from my constant reading and refolding, but they offer a highlight, a glimmer for me to hold on to. But even those are now tainted with the knowledge that it was all a game.
Elex and Aerith.
Thinking about them and their story only conjures complicated feelings about Lyle and Kalan, so I hide the papers under my pillow along with the Ciro knife. I don’t need to keep it written down any longer, their names are now scarred into my heart whether I like it or not.
And I still haven’t had the opportunity to tell Ten about them. The secret that had been kept from all of us for so long. It’s cruel that his father must have known—that Kamari, Rowan, Aurelia, and maybe Perrin all knew this and chose to keep it from me.
All because I am a Fifth. They were Fifths.
As soon as I’m close to the cell and training area where Ten and Crimson are, I try our bond, and I smother a hand over my mouth to conceal my gasp when he answers.
“Hey.”
“Thank Aslendrix and all the stars, Ever.”
“Are you okay? Your stomach, is it healed?” I rush, needing to know this before anything else.
“Well enough. And you?”
“You barely caught me. It scabbed over straight away. Fenix isn’t here.
Just the usual guard and the people watching in the periphery.
” I give him the information as quickly as I can.
“They do a good job around camp of hiding it, but there is a distinct movement of people. I can’t see much from my tent, but every few hours there are people moving about, as if one group are coming back, and another one is going.
My bet is they keep the perimeter.” Apart from that observation and the fact that my brother isn’t around, there’s little to report.
Certainly, no cunning plan, hatched and formed.
“Kalan came to see us. He’s still here. And he told us—”
“If your progress with magic is slow, perhaps your brother was correct in this assessment, and you’ll be a quicker study with weapons.” The Usher’s voice interrupts our connection, and I look out at Ten and Crimson, two swords in the centre of the ring.
“I won’t fight them.” And Fenix isn’t here to make them fight me.
“You don’t need to. But you will learn. Pick it up. Who you fight is up to you. I don’t care, but you will become proficient with a sword.”
“I thought you needed my magic, not my sword skills?” My hands shove to my hips and wait for the answer.
But he doesn’t give me one. Just stands there, the impression of a frail old man almost complete. “If you think waiting me out is the answer, be my guest.”
Aside from cracking a seam through the sky and turning it black that one time, I’ve not seen or felt the Usher’s magic. Is he a threat? Do I want to make him my enemy any more than he already is?
“Ten?” I look at him and Crimson, and I remember that this isn’t about me.
It’s about them. So, I suck in a deep breath, and wish it made me feel better about doing this, because it goes against every instinct I have.
Stepping forward, I pick up the blades and hand the other one to Crimson.
She’s the Warrior. I nod as she takes the weapon, careful not to make any contact.
“Teach me.”
“Ever, your brother—”
“I need to focus. We need to play along. Please.” I shove my thoughts away and block as best I can while I keep my attention on Crimson.
This isn’t like when I stepped into that ring back in Kirraisa, brimming with frustration and wanting to let loose and win at all costs. Now, I need to see Crimson as an ally. A skilled, lethal ally who can help.
And to her credit, she doesn’t take the advantage and come at me all blades blazing. She steps into a stance I’m familiar with and waits for me to copy before slowly moving through a series of positions with the sword.
I follow. Absorbing every single detail she puts on display for me. But we don’t fight. Not yet. She raises her dominant arm with the sword, and I follow, mirroring her. She picks up the pace, moving faster, combining a swing with a block and then a similar action but on the reverse side.
And in a very un-Crimson-like move, she nods to me before she springs forward with the blade raised.
I defend her first strike easily, the clash of metal reverberating down my hands and through my body, before I push her back. She’s not going full-throttle. I know what that feels like. This is calculated, giving me the edge I need to learn. To fight.
I make sure that whatever energy I have goes into shielding, so I don’t accidentally draw her power.
After a few minutes, my arms grow tired from the weight of lifting and swinging the blade back and forth, over and over.
It’s not the weapon I’d ever want to choose in battle.
It’s cumbersome and heavy. But with every strike we make, I think of Crimson’s blade as belonging to Fenix, and how I might need to defend or attack it.
Attack him.
A few more combinations, and I pause and raise my hand to stop as I plant the tip into the ground and use the handle as a support, while I drag air into my lungs.
“Ever?”
I shake my head at Ten. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Save your strength.”
“Do you think Warriors will wait for you to catch your breath?” The Usher chastises from the sidelines.
“A Warrior wouldn’t. But they would also be fully trained.
You can’t expect her to be as good as us without the time to get there.
Now, back off.” Crimson steps forward to the Usher, defending me.
Again. “She needs physical training. Not just her magic or her blade skills. She needs to be physically fit.”
The Usher pulls back his cloak and walks towards us, and every part of my body tenses with anticipation—and fear—as to what he might do to Crimson for her critique.
“Very well. You will be responsible for her fitness and skill. Her brother will support and utilise the other,” he looks over to Ten, who’s waiting on the edge of the ring, “as he sees fit. Now. Again.”
“What’s the hurry?” I push again. “My magic doesn’t feel the same way here as it did in Kirrasia. I’m more tired and have nothing to… draw from.”
I cringe at how whiny I sound, but hey, I’m whining at him.
“Aslendrix will replenish your power. And then you will have no more excuses.” He turns away.
“How? Did that happen back in Kirrasia?” I ask Ten as I run my finger over the ring on my hand.
“You didn’t need it to, because you were there, under her spell, at all times, even when she was waxing and waning, she still radiated power to those who had undergone the Transference.”
“Did you ever wonder why only the weaker Kirrians are asked to leave to take up their responsibilities outside of her Aslendrix’s grace?” The Usher calls back. “Power. Ensuring the weak stay that way. The powerful kept in their positions, with no concern.”
He paints a grim picture of the Chamber and the Orders. I look at Ten and Crimson, and, hearing their way of being brought up into question, shows.
“When is the full moon?” I ask, while trying to bury all the other slivers of information, storing them in the library I’m trying to keep organised in my mind.
“Tomorrow.”
Despite everything, my lips tug into a smile at the first bit of good news we’ve had since arriving, and I reach for my necklace, taking comfort from it.
Once I can replenish myself, I can talk with Ten properly, work on propelling my power and hopefully learn how to get stronger and get out of here.