34
Kora
Sunrise filtered through the thinning Mist as Kora sat on her balcony, sipping another delightful hot chocolate.
The mug warmed her cold hands as her body recovered from the magical expense.
The forest graced her view, the path down the hill to the left leading to the city.
She hadn’t neared it since those black and purple shadows.
She rubbed her chest, the warmth that’d exploded from her earlier now cold and empty.
Erick had died.
She had brought him back to life.
She was an elemental, but also a divine.
Kora knew she had healing magic, something she’d never revealed to anyone.
But to play at Thanos’ level and defy death?
That was something else. She racked her brains for everything she’d learned in the magoires but came up short.
Raiden had mentioned magic hadn’t always pertained to factions, and she wondered if this was something ancient.
Sirona’s screeching had been incessant, her desire to separate Kora from Raiden permeating the atmosphere until he’d whisked her away, leaving Kora with Aryn and Erick.
But his eyes still hadn’t opened. Altha—the head healer—had declared he was still in a coma, and wisely brushed over how Erick had returned to life after multitudes of minutes within Thanos’ clutches.
Kora squirmed in her seat. Thanos had granted his life back on Bone Rattler, why would he take it away again?
Was this a divine test? Had he known about this second power?
Aryn collapsed in the chair beside Kora, wiping his damp face, pushing his grown-out hair back.
The ends reached his sharp cheekbones, the dark brown strands anchoring Kora in her reality.
He’d rushed to her bathing chamber to splash some cold water over himself after the shock.
Aryn collected the steaming mug from the small table between them, wrapping his deft fingers around it.
He’d not worn his archer tabs since their return to Galen.
In fact, he’d been wearing his longbow less frequently, too.
Courtiers, pirates, and mercenaries milled to and from the castle, up and down the hill in the early morning hours.
Servants rushing with deliveries—flowers, potatoes, medicine.
Their lives unperturbed by the events revolving within these walls.
Kora’s chambers sat in the west wing just off from the castle’s entrance, and if she craned her neck hard enough, she could almost see the stone steps leading to the huge iron doors.
She exhaled as she watched life pass her by.
Not an ounce of fear on people’s faces, no poverty or sickness.
Genuine smiles, and peoples unaware of the darkness lingering within her, threatening to explode if a single shred of emotion consumed her.
A squawk sounded and Kora’s gaze swept to the sky, expecting Mara.
Instead, a messenger hawk soared across the grounds weaving through the glimmering spirals and fading into the east.
For a moment, she wished she was the hawk.
“Am I a freak?” Kora whispered.
Aryn answered without missing a beat. “Definitely not, Captain. You’re in the castle of freaks. You’re quite normal in comparison.”
“I’m guessing I wasn’t previously . . . divine.”
“No,” Aryn shook his head. “You never displayed an ability for it. Healing’s never been recorded as a gift, but from my understanding, the divine can reach through the realms in-between life and death.”
“The in-between,” Kora repeated, sinking into her chair.
Almighty Thanos. Was that why she’d managed to enter Umbra as a living soul? Had she been using her divine gift without realising?
“Are you alright?” Aryn asked, his tattoo crinkling slightly on his cheek as he offered a small smile.
“No,” she admitted.
She was stuck in a foreign land, her and Erick’s survival dependent on destroying Barron, and subsequently saving the islands.
Samuel, Ivar, and Theron were captured, suffering unknown levels of torture, and Kora was spiralling, losing herself.
She’d never felt more disconnected to the ocean, confined to the walls of this castle.
Her own mind caged within a darkness that grew stronger every day.
The one time she had left the castle, she’d been plagued with visions of Agatha that she wasn’t sure had been real. And the citizens had feared her. Had screamed at her.
“I’m here for you, Kora.” Aryn set his mug down on the glass-topped table, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
The gentlest of breezes ruffled his thick hair, and his fox-like eyes gazed into hers unwaveringly.
That familiar warmth returned to the centre of her core, below her chest. A comforting stone grounding her.
“I miss home,” she confessed, her flesh prickling as something pulled her towards Aryn. Towards her firefly in this sea of darkness that was consuming her by the second.
A sad smile played with his lips, and he absentmindedly brushed his tattoo. “I like to think home is the people you love. Not a place, or where you’re from.”
But some of those she loved were suffering. Being tortured or worse. They could be dead already and she’d have no idea.
“Is there someone here you love? You said once before you had someone.”
Aryn slowly blinked. “I’m still trying to find my way back to them.
Some days I think I have, some days it’s like I’ve never been farther.
” He shuffled, moving to leave the balcony abruptly but Kora gripped his wrist, panic flaring within at being left alone.
A jolt sizzled her palm, and the warmth increased in her chest.
“Don’t leave,” she pleaded, her eyes wide. “I . . . I can’t be alone right now.”
“I’m not the one who should stay with you.”
Kora frowned and Aryn sighed, sitting back into his chair with sudden awkwardness, his slender frame rigid.
He leaned back, his head tipping as he stared up at the sky.
Kora fumbled, a clear connection pulling her towards Aryn.
His presence had always been a comfort, and he always appeared when she needed him most, he’d become her closest friend.
“Why do I feel so connected to you? Why is it that Barron’s magic targeted you the most in my mind?”
Aryn’s eyes flashed. “You feel . . . connected to me?”
“Here,” Kora rubbed her chest with a deep inhale.
“Since that night aboard Hell’s Serpent playing Cribbage.
Like a weight, that’s warm. Sometimes I feel like I know what you’re going to do, whenever we’ve fought.
And here,” Kora touched her scar gently, “I had to wrestle with my mind to remember you clearly. Barron’s magic had a tighter grip on who you are to me—or her—us—whatever. ”
Aryn sharply inhaled and dropped to his knees before Kora, shocking her. What the fuck. Her cheeks heated as he gently took one of her hands. “I didn’t want to push it. I wasn’t even sure if you could feel it, whether it had died along with Kordelia . . .”
“What . . . Aryn, what are you doing?” The gentle breeze picked up. The warmth in Kora’s chest incensed until it sizzled, like necking a pint of rum. “Are you proposing or something?”
He chuckled. “Do you know what a skildaj is?”
“It sounds like shield to me. My Devanian isn’t always the most thorough.”
Aryn’s fingers brushed over the back of her hand. Behind him, the sun had risen over Mistros City, the blue roofs coming to life through the Mist. Beyond was the ocean, and Kora’s stomach lurched as she felt no joy, no desire to venture towards it.
“Close. It means protector.”
“So you’re a protector here in Galen?”
A small laugh escaped Aryn. “I’m your protector. We’re bonded through an old Devanian ritual—Tvinnr Fyr.”
Memories exploded within her mind, each one that crossed her mind’s eye caused the warmth in her chest to spread.
When Aryn had protected her from the Flint twins, when he’d stopped Skylar and Cassidy taking her, when he’d rescued her from the dungeons.
Every time she’d been in peril, he had been there.
He’d even discovered her after years of separation, finding a way into her crew.
“Bonded how?” she asked, her mouth drying. “Is this like a contract?” The question sounded stupid as soon as it left her lips, but she needed to confirm what her gut was roaring at her.
“This isn’t as simple as having a bodyguard. We’re magically bonded, like two sides of the same sword. I’m the bow to your arrow, the shield to your dagger. You chose me as your skildaj weeks before you went missing. It’s a blood-bonded ritual that cannot be reversed.”
“And my blood hasn’t changed.” Kora shivered as the revelation dawned on her. Why Aryn’s presence grounded her, how she’d innately known what he’d do in the Silent Tundra. “Are they rare?”
Aryn nodded. “Yes, due to its nature, you have to be absolutely sure when taking the oath.”
The intensity caused Kora to squirm, and she removed her hand from Aryn, unsure if she liked where this was going.
“Why did we do it? If it’s as final as you say.” She clearly possessed some kind of connection with Raiden from the past. Why hadn’t she performed the ritual with him?
He exhaled slowly through his nose, his stare unwavering.
“Skylar may claim you were best friends once, but I was your closest friend. You knew me before you’d even arrived at Galen.
We trusted each other without question, and when I proposed the bond to you for both our safety, you didn’t think twice, slitting your palm there and then. It felt right at the time.”
Kora winced, checking her hands. Many scars littered them from her time in the trials, could one of them be a ritual scar?
“But it doesn’t feel right now?” Kora questioned his tone. Did she want a skildaj bond? She enjoyed Aryn’s company and their blossoming friendship, but was she ready for more?
“When I eventually found you years later, I didn’t feel anything. You didn’t remember me. The connection is now faint, but I couldn’t tell you, Kora. It would’ve scared you away, or revealed my position. I needed to know you felt it first.”
“Your position?” Kora craned further into her seat, the woodwork creaking. “Were you spying on me?”
“I was protecting you from afar.” Aryn leaned closer. “That’s what I do, Kora. What else was I supposed to do? Introduce myself as a Galenite upon your ship? I had to bide my time.”
“For what? Galen escaping the Mist was chance. It’s all been one massive coincidence, orchestrated by Raiden’s voice in my head. You could’ve been waiting until you died for Galen to be free, in hopes that I somehow became Kordelia again.”
“If that’s what it took.” Aryn stood. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. Kordelia may have been pivotal in the Galenite War, and an integrated part of this castle. But you’re so much more, Captain.”
Kora’s heart thudded unpleasantly as talons raked across her mind and down her spine. A sinister laugh prickling the shell of her ears as the red haze threatened to submerge her and allow Kordelia to take control.
Another lie. Another deceit.
“You should go,” Kora spoke tensely. Darkness bled, the sun disappearing behind shadows.
“Kora, we need to discuss this. Whether you will re-accept the bond with me. Vows and promises hold weight in Galen—magical weight. I have no idea what will happen if you reject it. Someone in a fugue state has never had a Tvinnr Fyr as well.” Aryn stepped back, his shoulders drooping.
“Please stop.” Kora waved a hand, before slamming both down on the chair’s wide armrests.
The captain’s cold mask was returning, shutting down her emotions, blanketing her panic.
Tendrils beckoned from the wall of shadows beyond the balcony, leering, reaching to snatch Aryn away.
“Stop!” The scream was directed within, but Aryn winced.
You can’t trust anyone anymore.
“Kora?” Aryn reached out but Kora toppled out of her chair, a cough hacking from her lungs as icy pins repeatedly stabbed them all over.
Every pocket of darkness pooled, seeping into her chambers, bubbling beneath the mezzanine.
He knelt and grabbed her shoulders, and Kora almost screamed at the gold churning in his irises, like molten metal.
Pathetic, naive human.
Kora yelped at the familiar yet bitter voice ravaging through her mind. She violently trembled as Aryn’s warm hands circled her arms, but the cold smothered her, numbing her. His warmth couldn’t penetrate the darkness. Her firefly was gone.
“C-can you see that?” Her teeth chattered as she pointed ahead. Aryn cursed, shaking his head. “She’s here. She’s coming.”
You don’t deserve this power.
The faintest of golden glows bloomed from Aryn’s hands as his stare narrowed. His tattoo deepened, the tiniest of rivulets running from it like watercolour paint.
You don’t deserve this body.
Black-stained tears dripped from Kora’s eyes, and with his golden thumbs, Aryn wiped them away, before pressing a finger to her scarred temple.
You don’t deserve him.
“Hush now,” Aryn soothed as his thumb followed the scar down her neck. Within moments, the cold receded, the laughing vanished, the scraping talons cushioned, and Kora slumped into her protector’s arms.