52
Kora
Kora couldn’t stop staring at the iridweed meadow.
It glowed. As soon as the sun dipped behind the horizon and darkness smothered the sky, the meadow came to life. Individual fibres of the iridweed petals pulsated with a lavender glow, like tiny intricate veins, whilst the aurora lights basked Kora and Raiden, brandishing their skin pink.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Raiden set the crushed petals to simmer over a small existing firepit, occasionally stirring the liquid as they nibbled their rations. Kora was delighted to find her favoured tarts packed for the journey, and wolfed hers down without a care.
Raiden watched every movement, his stare darkening so deeply when she licked her fingers that Kora squirmed, glancing away before the fire within consumed her in an inferno. This gods-damned male.
Dark stones lined the firepit, each one engraved with a rune, and painted in shimmering opal.
“What do these runes mean?” Her lessons with Aerion had only consisted of runes associated with channelling and combat.
She knew the basics such as a shield, to make her weapon stronger against a foe’s attack, and adding specific elemental runes meant the wielder’s power would channel into the weapon, enhancing it in the way their power manifested.
“It’s the order of the ritual to honour Haizea.” Raiden pointed to the stone nearest to him. “This means community, it connects individuals spiritually. We drink from the waters that flow up into the mountains, and then this next symbol is amplification. Like Skylar’s gift. So Haizea may hear us.”
The rivers between Windspire Castle and the Horrow Mountains were otherworldly. Even now, a faint trickle filled the ambience of the peaks, a soothing flow of water. The gravity-defying waters here were crystal clear, enough for Kora to spot tiny fish and algae on their way up to the mountains.
Kora followed the stones, shifting closer to Raiden to peer at the runes on his side of the firepit. He tensed, his right hand splaying on the meadow between them. She’d never noticed how rough they were, small scars lining his fingers and knuckles, similar to her own.
“That’s the symbol for air,” she observed quietly with a small sliver of pride, leaning to point at the next rune, acutely aware of how close they were.
Raiden’s voice caught. “Yes, well done. Turns out my brother can teach. That’s so we may connect with Haizea only, and not accidentally a different god.”
“There’s nothing like this in Aldara,” Kora said, all too aware of their proximity and reluctantly retreating.
“The empire built over the original city, and what’s left of Devania is in ruins.
Some statues remain in Stormkeep, but they’re crumbling, so neglected that no one even notices them anymore. ”
Raiden’s stare hardened. “The empire managed to wipe the history of Devania from everywhere but here.”
“What was Devania like?” Kora curled her knees up, peering at him with wide eyes.
History was her favourite subject, and her heart swelled as she momentarily flashed back to the Silvermaid’s Emporium.
Sprawled across Agatha’s lounge chair in her secret room, a pot of tea brewing on the hearth, whilst she recited tales of Devanian magic, and the development of their cities.
“I wouldn’t know,” Raiden’s tone shifted, his head cocking slightly as he studied her.
“I was born one hundred and seventy years into the Devanian Conquest. All I knew was war. My father raised me and my siblings as weapons against Azaria. The Mist appearing . . . it was hard on us all. Our purpose taken away, blind to know how the world outside fared. Whether it still existed.”
“That must’ve been tough.” Kora gently placed her hand on his, a daring touch. “Erick raised me the same. My ten years were spent training until I bled. I was so angry, so fuelled by revenge aimed at the wrong people.”
“Fathers of the year,” Raiden muttered, and a small laugh slipped from Kora.
“Why does yours treat you so badly? I know Erick has done some terrible things, but Zephyr is something else.”
Raiden’s hand tensed under Kora’s. She studied the sharp lines of his body, the way his stare dimmed in the light of the fire.
As she moved to pull her hand away, Raiden turned his over, lacing his fingers through hers.
Her core burned, her thighs tightening as her heart raced at his touch.
The warmth of his hand leaked up her arm, and she could’ve sworn the stars burned brighter.
“I did something,” Raiden’s voice strained.
“I’m not . . . I’m not a good guy. As Windwards, we shepherd the four corners of the wind.
We embody the balance of the world, the four points of the compass.
” Kora recalled Hallow’s Day, how the four winds were used to honour Thanos.
And Raiden hadn’t been involved, with Aryn and Cassidy awkwardly representing the western wind.
“As a young general, my father was determined for me to lead his armies. I was the heir apparent, the First Prince of Galen. It was my duty to lead us all into glory. My power was strong, rivalling my father’s, and my gift of speaking into the minds of others meant I could strategize an entire unit without the enemy hearing us. ”
His grip tightened on Kora’s, and she gently squeezed in return.
“Aerion was part of our defensive unit, he was barely sixteen. Too fucking young. Skylar was my second in command. She was more ruthless than I was, and led the front of attacks, her voice used to deter enemy lines. But . . . we had another sister. Iris. She was twelve, and her magic hadn’t manifested yet. But she was so special.” Raiden choked.
Iris. Kora blinked, flashes of paintings in Windspire, flowers drawn or left everywhere. Even Raiden’s sword attached to his side, the flowery pattern on it. They were iris flowers.
“Raiden,” Kora whispered, her heart sinking. “You don’t need to . . . I don’t want you to be in pain.” This would’ve been something she already knew once. Something Kora should’ve remembered, something Raiden didn’t have to repeat for her sake.
He met her stare. “I want you to know. It was before our time together. Before the conquest ended. Iris had followed me on a mission to the Dead Islands—she always wanted to go on missions. Her heart was bigger than all of ours put together. We were going to liberate the prisoners, and create a stronghold from advancing forces from Azaria. I didn’t even think—I freed all of them.
Even the putrid ones, the ones who deserved to be there.
I was determined to prove to my father that I could vanquish Azaria from Aldara’s border.
“But Iris had been there, and a prisoner had taken her into his cell . . . I tried to get to her. Tried to save her from his filthy fucking hands. But we’d been ambushed, the empire’s forces using the prisoners as a scapegoat to destroy us all collectively.
She . . . he’d savaged her beauty. Her innocence.
There was nothing left of her face when I got there.
I snapped his jaw in half. I killed half of the people there in a blind rage. Even . . . even Galenites.”
Raiden released her hand and looked away.
“I’m a killer too, Huntress. I murdered my own people.
Those prisoners, some of which had been slaves to the empire.
I destroyed half of Deadwater Prison just. Like.
That.” Raiden clicked his fingers, and a cold wind flashed from those two fingertips, sending shivers down her spine.
“My father was furious, and stripped me of everything. It’s been over fifty years and he still punishes me.
Iris was his favourite. She was more blessed than the rest of us, her connection to the gods was strong.
She came up here frequently with Father.
She could’ve become a priestess, a healer, anything that wasn’t a weapon. She was the brightest of us.”
Kora stood, and held out her hand to Raiden whilst remaining silent.
He was tortured within, his own darkness haunting him.
Raiden glanced at her, taking her hand, his stare wary.
Without speaking, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.
Raiden jerked in surprise, and Kora tightened her grip, her own horrors roiling in her mind, her own violent actions singing out to this male.
“I see you, Raiden,” she soothed into his ear. Raiden shuddered, and his arms encased her waist, pulling her close. Kora tried to ignore how she lit up from within, her body burning so bright she could’ve floated into the aurora above.
“I see you too, Huntress.” Emotion welled within Kora, and she buried her face into his shoulder to prevent tears from shedding. Raiden’s hands tightened against her back, suddenly clinging onto her as waves of grief rolled through him. He inhaled deeply as Kora tipped her head back.
He was so close. His warmth so enticing. Strong yet gentle. One of his hands slid from her back, his thumb and forefinger lightly gripping her chin as Raiden studied her face.
Gods. She wanted to kiss him. The thought came from nowhere, her body rocking forward to brush his. Something flickered in Raiden’s stare—surprise, maybe. His mouth parted, and Kora physically burned to be even closer to him, a heat licking up her limbs, demanding they collide under the stars.
Steam wafted, water bubbling, breaking their connection, and Raiden stood back abruptly, shaking his head. Cold air swept in, and Kora blinked the lustful haze away, remembering where she was. Why they were here.
“Er . . . it’s ready.” Raiden seemed dazed, his hands tremoring.
Kora eyed the brew sceptically. “This won’t make me do something stupid, will it?”
Raiden looked at her inquisitively as he transferred the steaming purple liquid into a fresh bowl. “Like what?”
Kora shrugged. “I don’t know . . . drugs make you do things.”
Raiden chuckled as he handed her the bowl. It shimmered in the night, the glow of the petals pulsating in time with her racing heart. It didn’t smell of anything, and Kora tentatively held it to her lips.
“Tell me this is safe.”
“Trust me, Huntress,” Raiden placed a hand on his heart. “I’d never endanger you.”
Without breaking eye contact, Kora drained the warm liquid in one and grimaced.
Despite the lack of scent, its flavour was bitter and syrupy at once, the liquid strangely thick as she swallowed multiple times for it to go down.
It settled in her stomach, swirling with heat, and Kora glanced down, expecting something to happen.
“Nothing’s happening.” Not even a creepy glow, or a gurgle. She half expected to flatulate at this point.
Raiden just laughed. “I told you, it’s dangerous to humans.
You need to sleep, it works best overnight.
Whatever happens, remember you need to come back.
Don’t linger in the dream. This close to the gods, you’ll enter a new state, one only your essence can transcend.
You could lose yourself, and may never return to the mortal plane. ”
“And you didn’t say this before because?” Kora reared. What did he mean not return?
“I’ll be here as your anchor. I’ve got you, Huntress. I won’t let you lose your way. Just remember, return from the dream.” And gods damn didn’t she believe him.
“I don’t think I could sleep right now,” Kora glanced around, the darkness of the peaks unnerving her.
“It’ll hit you soon. It makes you drowsy.
The amount you drank is more than we use for rituals.
” Raiden patted the mattress roll on the other side of the fire.
Kora paused, noticing the two spread out next to each other.
She laid down, her breathing fast as her heart soared, working overtime with the iridweed in her system.
“Raiden . . . what does that symbol mean?” She yawned, pointing to the stone opposite her. It burned bright, the silvery etchings swirling in her gaze, distorting her reality as her stomach grumbled, folding and knotting repeatedly.
“It means rift. That’s what this place is—Haizea’s rift between realms. It’s why magic is so concentrated here.” Raiden laid down beside her, his warmth and the firepit opposite alighting Kora’s skin. Sweat broke out on her forehead and she rolled to face him, grabbing his arm in a panic.
“I don’t feel well.”
“It’s working, your body needs to process it.” Raiden’s mouth softened, and Kora’s hand snaked up to stroke his strong cheek, boldness coursing through her. The aurora blazed, dazzling her vision as purple shadows crept in at the edges.
Her mind spun and her limbs became heavy, her hand falling to the ground between them.
Raiden clasped it with one hand, whilst the other brushed her hair from her damp cheek, tucking it behind her ear.
He traced her scar from her temple, following it down to her neck, his stare positively feral, and soon that was all Kora could see as darkness enclosed in.
But it didn’t hurt. For once, her scar didn’t scream at the contact, it didn’t shiver with coldness or tingle with an ache that was her common nuisance. It was like Raiden’s touch was the arnica salve she’d depended heavily on, soothing her skin and mind.
“Kora?” She frowned, unsure as to whether Raiden had truly said her name. He never used her name. Maybe it was the drugs. “Don’t let me float away.”
“I’ve got you, Rai.”