Chapter 58 #2
Alaris squeezes my hand, bringing me back. I lock eyes with him. I see concern there, but I can’t distract him right now. I give him a tight smile.
Finally, we reach the bottom, stopping before a pure white slab with a seam in the middle.
I count our numbers. We have ten witnesses against my father’s ten, plus his eight guards, and three priests.
The numbers aren’t perfect, but our people are armed and only need to keep the guards away from Alaris.
My father steps forward and presses his hand to both sides of the seam. The doors know who they open for. They rumble and part with the terrible sound of stone grating over stone.
Beyond them lies a corridor of the same marble. Another pair of doors waits at the end, which I know from my memories is the final seal on the chamber.
We step inside, and the first door shuts behind us. This space feels like a tomb, suffocating and still, with stale air and no light except the torches the priests carry.
The second set of doors begins to open with the same grinding effort.
As soon as they crack, incredible light and heat blast into the corridor, staggering me.
I squint and turn away. Everyone else in the party does the same.
Only my father and Alaris keep their backs straight as the Eternal Flame is revealed.
The chamber ahead is vast, with huge columns supporting a vaulted ceiling.
It’s like an echo of the throne room far above, but instead of a seat, the room is arranged around the Eternal Flame, contained in a basin of white onyx.
Aside from dancing tendrils of yellow and red leaping across its surface, it isn’t really like a fire; it’s a solid glowing ball, its white core so bright I can’t look at it directly.
It gives off no smoke, just blinding, soul-searing heat.
My skin flushes and I break out in a sweat.
This was easier the first time, when I wasn’t half-delirious with past lives crowding my brain.
I close my eyes against the brightness and open them in my dark bedroom. I’m in bed.
“Lysandra?” A low voice cuts through and the vision disappears.
I was just lying down, but now I’m on my feet, leaning against a hard body somewhere hot and bright.
Alaris. We’re here with the Eternal Flame.
“I just tripped,” I mumble, glancing around at the company.
Seran’s eyes are on me, but if he noticed my unusual behavior, it doesn’t show in his face.
The guards disperse to the edges, taking up their posts on either side of the room, their brows all dotted with sweat.
The witnesses stop halfway into the space out of necessity, the heat an oppressive wall.
My father walks up the steps to the edge of the basin and raises his arms, basking in the Flame’s radiance.
It’s like the sun trapped in a bowl. He turns to face us, smiling, the power of Ignar coursing through him.
His eyes go molten, his skin glowing golden, his hair moving with energy.
He is Ignar’s power walking in the world, only half-diluted with mortality. He beckons Alaris and me forward.
The air gets hotter with every step. The veil and robe hide my sweat, but it’s pouring, soaking the gauze and overdress. I’m grateful for every bit of fabric shielding my skin.
My vision swims, but it’s not from the heat. The temperature is stifling, making even breathing hard, but it doesn’t seem to help me stay present. If anything, it’s making it harder to keep my eyes open. Pain and pleasure seem to ground me, so I squeeze my nails into my palm as hard as I can.
The chamber refocuses.
The priests chant, and my father beckons me forward, his power surging.
I take one step and feel like the flesh is burning off my bones.
I take another, and the world tilts, the marble floor coming toward me, roses beckoning.
Alaris is there. He catches me in his arms and pulls me up.
The priests gasp and mutter, halting in their chant.
Alaris sets me on my feet and turns us so he’s between me and the Flame. For a second, I think he’s hiding my recovery from my father. Then I look into his eyes and find they’re not their usual dark color.
They’re pure silver.
He shoves me back at the same moment he whirls and launches himself at the emperor.
Chaos erupts.
Guards surge forward as our witnesses draw their weapons, slashing through unguarded flanks and locking blades with those who got their own up in time.
I shriek as someone grabs me around the waist.
“Ly, I’ve got you,” Dashol says. “Just stay behind me.”
He drags me toward a column, setting me against it and taking a stance in front of me.
I press against the marble, unable to do anything but watch as Alaris and my father clash.
Sunfire and starlight. Void and flame. My father throws fire bursts again and again, met blow for blow by Alaris’s starlight. Alaris throws glittering bursts of cosmic power at the emperor, while focusing every blast of darkness at the basin.
A fiery explosion knocks him back a few steps, and I take a step forward. But Alaris produces a sword in one hand and the void-black dagger in the other. Shadows twist around his shoulders and form his wings. He launches himself at my father.
Dashol strikes at a guard who runs toward us, and a priest who dives for me. Red spills across the marble.
I no longer smell blood and ashes. I smell roses.
Sounds warp, then muffle, as I slide down the column and slip under.
I’m in my bedroom. It’s just after midnight.
I blink my eyes open, and I’m back in the chamber.
The air is filled with clanging, shouting, and the roar of flames.
Guards and some of our men are on the ground, while others are still locked in combat.
Orent is still on his feet, though his arm is crooked and bleeding.
Two of our company hold back advisors trying to leave, and I spot Seran’s olive robes, huddled against a column.
Alaris has forced my father backward, and they battle closer to the Flame.
My father’s face contorts in an expression I’ve never seen on him: fear.
He snarls and lifts a hand, and a blazing column emerges from the basin.
It arches and smashes down on top of Alaris, who blocks it with the dagger.
The blade and the roaring column wrestle against each other, neither giving ground.
But darkness swirls with the flame, winding up the column, headed for its blinding white heart.
My father bellows in rage.
He thrusts both hands forward, and a wall of fire leaps from the basin. Alaris still has the dagger raised, holding off the twisting column. He’s unguarded.
“No!” I shriek, racing toward him.
Stop. My mind thrums the command. The inferno drags. It reaches Alaris, but its tongues crawl. The roar drops low and stretches out.
I cross more distance than the fire.
Am I doing that?
The thought breaks it. Sound crashes back and the blazing wall explodes forward. It throws me back and I cry out, as much in shock as pain. Alaris is on me in a second, swooping through the flames, wings spread. He grabs my wrist and spins me behind him. He curses under his breath.
“I’m fine,” he says. “Stay down.”
My side is red, sections of my robe and dress burned down to skin.
“Dashol!” he shouts. “Take her!”
I don’t resist this time as a hand pulls me back.
My father’s arm is already coming up again, power from the basin gathering behind him.
I don’t run forward this time. I don’t know if I’m helping, but I have to try. I reach deep inside, dragging the thrum up out of my chest.
Stop, I command, staring at the flame. The blast stutters. Sparks hang over the basin for half a breath.
Alaris doesn’t hesitate. He launches off the spot, swooping toward the flame. He throws his sword toward my father with a blinding burst of crackling starlight, banks around him up the steps, and plunges the dagger downward.
A burst of silver explodes from Alaris, sweeping through the chamber like wind, pushing Dashol and me behind a massive column. I put my head down as it streams through my hair and clothes.
The chamber turns orange, then red. Crimson light pulses, pulses, like an ancient and furious heartbeat. The ground quakes.
And then—detonation.
The chamber explodes in fire and force. Stone shatters. I fly back and hit my head on the marble.