Chapter 25
KALLIE
The room spun, and Kallie clutched the edge of the seat, her nails biting into it.
Ribbons of red and orange streaked across Kallie's vision, as if an artist had dipped their hand in paint and spread them across a canvas with no sense of direction. Her bones vibrated as the colors whirled around her, faster and faster with each passing second.
She bit down, her teeth squeezing together and her jaw popping as nausea rose inside her. Rising, rising, rising .
The moment Kallie questioned if she could hold on any longer, the world jerked to a stop.
Her body jolted forward, and the restraints yanked her back, the chains rattling on the floor.
Peeling her eyes open, she shook her head.
No...This isn't right.
Kallie squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them once more.
The candles and sea of color were gone as if they had never existed. A darkness thicker than the midnight sky blanketed the world surrounding her.
She looked around the room--or at least she thought she did, for she could not tell. There were no discernible shades of gray, no shadows, no pricks of light.
Kallie couldn't make out a single thing around her. It was as if all of the light had been completely sucked out of everything she could see.
The only thing that grounded her was the chair she sat on. She tried to take a deep breath, but smoke and sage filled her mouth, choking her.
A wave of panic rose in her throat, and her skin prickled.
Kallie blinked again and again, trying to wash away the darkness that permeated her vision. No matter what she did, however, she couldn't see anything.
What had Cetia done?
What world had she dropped Kallie into?
Was this a dream? A nightmare? Some weird plane she did not know existed?
Kallie recalled her father speaking about the strange happenings within the Tetrian queendom and the witch who ruled its land. But Kallie hadn't given her father's claims much thought. She had dismissed and ignored them.
But now...now she regretted not listening more closely when he spoke of the queen's wickedness.
What poisons had the queen--
Kallie stilled as a whisper kissed the air, making the hair on her neck stand on end. The words, however, were unintelligible, too quiet to parse.
She tried to grasp onto the faint syllables and hold onto them, but they slipped through her fingers like the sand on the shore. Whatever the words were, Kallie knew they were important. She could feel it within her bones, yet she couldn't prevent them from flying off into the spinning air.
"Who's there?" Kallie asked, voice shaking as goosebumps spread across her skin.
"Kalisandre."
Kallie jerked to the right, but she still couldn't see anything, only a single shade of darkness smeared across her eyes.
"Kalisandre."
Her name was even clearer and more urgent this time, yet Kallie still could not identify to whom it belonged.
Then, more voices joined in the fray, repeating her name round and round. It was as if a hundred voices spoke her name into the air simultaneously, varying tones layered on top of one another.
Kalisandre. Kalisandre. Kalisandre.
Her name was a hiss on their lips, a whisper in the air, a shout in her ears.
But as her name spun around her head, one voice stripped itself from the others.
"All you had to do was listen, Kalisandre. Was that truly so hard?"
The frigid air nipped at her ankles, causing a shudder to run down her spine as she recognized the voice by the disdain dripping from it.
"Father?" Kallie croaked, her throat dry. "What--what are you doing here?"
But Kallie received no answer as an ice-cold breeze swept in, sending a chill over her flesh.
"Father?" Kallie called out into the void, her heart pounding.
This time a second voice called out to her. "What did you do, Kalisandre?"
She could almost pinpoint the owner of the voice. But when the name was at the tip of her tongue, a finger brushed her chin and swept it away. Although she could not see him, she felt her father staring at her with disapproval as the scent of whiskey drowned out the other scent lingering in the air.
"Such potential," her father hissed in her ear, and she shuddered.
Kallie could feel him tip her chin up, yet she saw nothing. No distinguishable shadows danced before her face. Yet he was there. She knew it.
"If only you listened..."
Kallie tried to swallow and clear her throat, but her mouth was too dry. "Father, I didn't--"
"Do not lie to me!" Domitius's voice roared throughout the tenebrious space.
The cold air licked Kallie's legs, and frost wrapped around her ankles. She didn't know where it was coming from. All she knew was that its icy tendrils were creeping up her calves and twisting around her limbs.
"Do you not remember what I have done for you?" Domitius demanded, his breath cold on her neck.
"Father, please. I--"
"Kals," a pair of voices whispered, one feminine and one masculine, both soaked with sorrow.
When Kallie turned toward the pair, her father called her attention back to him. "Who has cared for you all this time, Kalisandre?"
"Kals," the voices repeated.
Kallie's head swiveled. She searched the darkness for the source, but there was nothing. No one.
Notes of lavender and mint wrapped around Kallie.
"Trust me, Kals," a voice as sweet and bright as the first morning in the spring said.
"Myra?" Kallie croaked.
"This is for your own good," Myra whispered. And as sweet as her words were, they were sour in the air.
Suddenly, something tugged at her core, and Kallie blinked, straightening, as another voice spoke. Although it was quieter than the others, it sounded even louder in her ears.
"Never forget who you are."
Kallie's throat seized as her heart ricocheted against her ribcage.
"I have given you everything!" her father shouted, jerking her head back. "I have raised you as my own. I have trained you, shaped you. And yet you still yearn for their attention? Why? Because they share your blood?"
Kallie bit her lip, shaking her head as the ice coating her calves spread over her knees and thighs. "They're nothing. No one."
"That's right," her father whispered, gripping her shoulders. "Blood is only as thick as one makes it."
Kallie nodded, although she did not know if her father could see the movement.
"You've betrayed me once, Kalisandre. But you only need to do one thing to earn my trust again."
That was all she wanted: to have her father's trust, to have his approval.
"Anything, Father," Kallie begged, tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes.
"Fight it," one of the other voices called out. Their voice sang of summer and fresh air, of laughter and joy. But as it flew past her, it grew heavy and quickly turned to mud on her ears.
Kallie gripped the chair, her nails cracking against the metal frame.
"Sacrifices are a necessity," Domitius hissed as he dug his fingers deeper into her shoulders. "Their lives are nothing when it comes to the power you will have."
The scent of lavender and mint calming the rising nausea.
"It's going to be all right." The warmth of the sun filled Kallie's veins the moment Myra spoke. Gentle fingers landed on Kallie's shoulder and squeezed. "I promise."
"You have come so far, Kalisandre. Are you going to let them take everything you have worked for away?" her father demanded.
"No," Kallie whispered, shaking her head and holding back tears. "I won't let them."
"They do not know you," her father taunted. "They do not know what you could become, who you could become. They only wish to make you weak, to stifle your power. They fear you. They believe you are a monster."
His words slithered into her mind, soaking into her skin and coating the veins that ran through her body. As he continued, Kallie saw the truth in every word he said.
These people were strangers. They were the enemy. Their selfishness had torn Vaneria apart. Pontia was full of secrets and lies, and for centuries, their rulers had only wished to harbor that power for themselves.
Her father had always been right about them. He was right about everything.
Kallie might have shared their blood and been born a Pontian, but she wasn't one of them.
She didn't belong with them.
"They do not want the best for you," he continued as the frost rose higher and higher. "They only care about themselves. They always have. Pontia has not changed for decades, centuries even, and it never will."
She nodded. "I know, Father."
The frost slipped up Kallie's torso and across her ribcage. It squeezed her abdomen and froze her arms to her chest.
Her breathing became shallow, and her heartbeat raced as her legs grew more and more numb.
"Kals!"
Kallie turned her head at the sound of the voice that had haunted her dreams.
"Fynn?" Kallie called out, her heart hammering. Pain pierced her bones, cracking the ice.
"Whatever means necessary," her father hissed.
"Don't listen to him, Kals!" Fynn shouted as the king said, "He was a sacrifice, Kalisandre. A sacrifice we needed to achieve our dream."
Kallie's face twisted as she swiveled her head between the two men pulling her in different directions.
Soon, more voices joined in, the chorus returning and spinning around the room.
Round.
And round.
And round.
A sea of shouts spread across the room, slithering over her sweat-slicked skin.
Still, her father's voice was the loudest of them all.
"Who has trained you all these years?" he thundered.
Kallie sobbed, no longer able to hold back her tears. They streamed down her face as her father's disappointment laced each word.
For years, all she had wanted was to prove to her father that she was more, that she was capable, that he could trust her. But now, all of her work began to crumble in the darkness.
Brick by brick, the pieces fell.
Each training session, each sacrifice, each mission--they fell from the tower she had spent her entire life building.
Kallie tried to scramble forward and catch the falling pieces, but the chains yanked her back.
"Who has promised you power, the power you otherwise would not have access to?" Domitius challenged.
Kallie's lips began to tremble, and the tip of her nose burned as the frost rose.
"You did," Kallie said at last, but the words were ash on her tongue. Still, she wanted to believe them. She needed to believe them. Because if they were not true, then why had she done everything she did? Why had she tarnished the servant's reputation in Frenzia? Why had she manipulated all of those civilians? Why had she betrayed her flesh and blood?
If they weren't true, then who was she?
Who would she become ?
"If the truth within is not found," another said, their voice miles away. "Then--"
Before the stranger could finish, her father interrupted, "Do not let your emotions get the better of you, Kalisandre!"
Lavender and mint mixed with whiskey. It swarmed around her, sweeping across her face and her neck. The scents wrapped around her throat, forcing the words out. "I--I won't."
Her hair flew across her face as a gust of wind smacked into her.
"Kals!" Fynn shouted through the darkness.
Kallie tried desperately to reach for him, but her hands were frozen to her sides.
"You have to fight it, Kallie," Fynn urged, his voice sounding farther and farther away.
Kallie struggled to turn as the ice held tight around her body. She tried to break it apart, but her entire body was quickly growing too numb to move.
Her father chuckled, and the sound had the hair on the back of her neck standing.
"I can give you everything," Domitius crooned.
"Fight it!" Fynn pleaded.
Her heart raced faster.
"He's lying to you, Kal," another voice said, ripping through the noise.
Kallie shook her head to calm the heavy patter of her heart. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, it only beat faster.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Kallie croaked at last.
"You dare question me? The man who raised you, who cared for you?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but Kallie forced herself to push through the pain and asked, "Why did you take me away from them?"
"I have treated you like a daughter all these years, Kalisandre. Is that not enough?"
Kallie blinked, her tongue growing heavy with frost.
Was it enough? It had been once. But why did it feel as if it wasn't now?
"Kals," Myra said, her voice as sweet as candy. "It's going to be all right."
Kallie wanted to believe Myra. After all, how could she not? Myra was her best friend--her family.
As was Domitius.
They were all Kallie had needed for so long. They were the only two people she could ever count on. They were the only ones who cared what she--
"They're lying, Kallie," Fynn shouted, his voice faint though powerful enough to break through the endless void.
Hands fell onto her shoulders, one light and one heavy, both familiar.
So much had changed within the past few months. All she wanted now was to sink into the familiar.
"Show me the weapon you were meant to be," her father whispered. "Show me the weapon I have raised you to be."
This was what she wanted: to be wanted and needed.
To have power.
This was what she was born for.
The chorus started again, all shouting her name as she spun around the room. With each repetition, she spun faster and faster, her hair whipping across her face.
The darkness began to dissipate as flashes of color bled across her vision.
"Kalisandre."
"Kalisandre."
"Kalisandre."
The ice crawled over her skin, its frigid touch burning into her flesh as it rose higher and higher.
Soon, the coldness became a welcome companion as Kallie whirled around the room. It seeped into her bones, stabilizing her and keeping her from rocking in the chair.
She wanted to sink into it, to let it consume her. It would have been easy to do just that. Because as its frigid touch enveloped her, it numbed her from her head to her toes.
It would be much easier if she just let go, if she gave into it. It would be so much easier to be numb to it all. To let the emotions go .
Kallie had always been too emotional. Her father had told her that too many times to count. But the ice on her skin promised to get rid of those emotions, to relinquish that pain she felt in her chest.
She nodded to herself. Yes , she thought. It would be so much easier to care less.
"Little mouse, you are smarter than this."
Kallie's breath hitched as Graeson's voice broke through the roar of voices.
"You can still fix this, Kalisandre," her father said. "Come home."
Home.
Where was her home?
Ardentol was Domitius's kingdom; its people were his, not hers.
Was that not what she wanted--her own throne, her own kingdom to rule?
But then...
A thought seeped through the cracks of the thickening ice.
Her father had tried to sell her to Frenzia to gain their kingdom. Kallie was supposed to sit on the throne, but she would not have ruled. Not really.
She would have been just another figurehead, another queen for a man to manipulate.
Kallie's brows twisted. "Pontia was once my home."
"That island?" her father asked with a snort. "What good--"
"Ardentol was my home once, too," Kallie whispered, her voice shaking as she continued, ignoring his interruption. "Until you sent me away." She blinked, struggling to make sense of it all. "How are you better than any of them?"
"I have treated you as if you were my own!" Domitius shouted.
Had he, though?
Various memories rose to the surface.
Kallie walking into the center of a ballroom, her hand in her father's, her diamond-covered dress sparkling beneath the chandelier.
Kallie running through mazes, her lungs threatening to burst.
Her knees hitting the ground as she struggled to breathe. A hand gripping her arm, bruising her flesh.
Green, hungry eyes boring into hers as a hand wrapped around her throat and another skated up her thigh.
For her entire life, Kallie had strived to be the perfect daughter, the perfect weapon. She pushed her body, broke her bones, and sacrificed her morals. She let Domitius's dreams become hers. His goals had morphed into hers.
Nothing she did was ever in pursuit of her desires.
She lied to the people she cared about because he told her to.
She manipulated innocents because he commanded it.
She sacrificed an entire kingdom's safety to advance his political agenda.
What had Kallie ever done that was just for her?
Even her romantic exploits, which were few and far between, resulted from assignments to test her abilities.
Diamond. Weapon. Pawn-- that's what Kallie was to Domitius. Not a daughter, and by no means an equal, not even close.
She was merely a tool for him to use.
The ice around Kallie's fingers cracked as her fingers strained against it, her muscles flexing.
Enough was enough.
But then, all around her, more whispers swam in the air.
"Traitor."
"Liar."
"Snake."
"Manipulator."
Each whisper and insult wrapped its smoky tendrils around her body, curling around her frozen frame. The syllables snaked around her throat, strangling her tighter and tighter with each repetition.
And one by one, Kallie finally recognized the voices: guards whom she had sacrificed, innocent lives whose homes were destroyed in Pontia, the victims her father had her manipulate in Ardentol, the servant whose life she had tainted by following her father's plan, her allies, and friends.
Rian.
Dani.
Terin.
Esmeray.
Graeson.
Fynn.
Their voices joined in unison as they hissed one insult after another.
Kallie squeezed her eyes shut, bit her tongue, and dug her nails into her palms, hoping the pain would drown out their voices. Still, their words sunk into her skin.
"Who are you to them but the enemy? A liar, a traitor, a manipulator?" Domitius drawled with disdain. "They will never trust you. They will never forgive you."
Guilt coated Kallie's stomach, twisting and turning over and over.
He was right.
Of course, he was right.
They would never forgive her. She could never earn their trust after everything she had done and all the pain and irreversible destruction she had caused. Not after--
"Kals," Fynn said as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He squeezed once. "It's okay."
Tears sparkled in her eyes at her brother's words, but she could not accept them. She had never deserved his kindness when he was alive, and she didn't deserve it now.
"It's not okay," Kallie said as the tears fell. "It's not--"
"Kal," Graeson soothed, joining Fynn. "This isn't you."
Kallie shook her head. Graeson didn't know what he was saying. He had said the same words to her before, but he didn't know her.
How could he possibly know who she was when she didn't?
"Kalisandre," another man said. This voice, however, was foreign yet familiar, as if she had heard it in a dream once before. "You have to fight it, fight him."
A protective warmth exuded from the man's voice. Despite not being able to see him or even identify who he was, she felt safe. Yet, simultaneously, her heart ached, for somehow, she knew she would never experience his safety again--as if the man was beyond her reach.
"Our father is right, Kals," Fynn whispered gently.
Kallie gasped. Our Father?
"You are weak," the king spat, forcing her to return her attention to him.
She gripped the chair harder as her head pounded.
"You are nothing ," Domitius said.
"Kalisandre," a woman murmured, breaking free from the rest of the group, strong and fueled with fire and honey.
Kallie straightened. It was the same feminine voice that had spoken to her in the cave at the Whispering Springs.
"Find it, Kalisandre, and destroy it before all is lost," the goddess Sabina warned.
The voice brushed across her face, a heat that was unrelenting, and Kallie jerked back as it scorched her skin.
"Come back to me," her father said. "Come take the throne. Show the world what we have spent years building."
Yes, My King.
The phrase was on the tip of her tongue, yet she couldn't pry her mouth open to say it.
It should have been an easy answer. It should have been simple to utter the three syllables she had grown up saying. Yet it wasn't simple. Not at all.
"Destroy it, Kallie. Destroy the link," the voices around her said in harmony.
Something tugged at her mind and urged her to obey Domitius's command, to tell her father yes .
Kallie didn't want to disappoint him.
She didn't want to betray him.
She didn't want to make him angry.
"Kalisandre," her father beckoned. "Listen to me."
Yes.
It's what she should say, yet she couldn't.
How many times had Kallie told him yes? How many times had she quieted her voice? How many times had she sewn her lips shut for the sake of appeasing him? Biding by his rules? His plans?
And for what? What did Kallie stand to gain? A pretend crown that held no actual power? A kingdom that did not respect her?
Was that what she wanted? To sit on a throne while speaking his commands?
What kind of life would that be? Living as his puppet?
Once Domitius claimed the entire realm, what would happen to her then? What would he do with her when he had no more use for her?
For her entire life, Kallie craved power. But now, as the world was ripped away from her and the ice threatened to consume her, Kallie questioned that desire for the first time.
Power was supposed to set her free. Power was supposed to release her.
Instead, Domitius promised her a chain around her neck that grew tighter and tighter the higher she climbed onto the throne.
Kallie was not a pawn for him to maneuver.
She was not a weapon for him to use.
More than anything, in that moment, all Kallie wanted was power over herself.
"No!" The single word ripped through her lungs and poured out her mouth like a torrent. She didn't care if the word shredded her dry throat or if it mutilated her vocal cords.
Fire erupted through the darkness. Its golden tendrils and brilliant flames wrapped around her, melting the ice and bringing life back to her frozen limbs.
Within the wild flames, black and white eyes sparkled. In a flash, the fire was swallowed whole.
Then, there was nothing.