58
Raiden
What just happened?” Kora trembled beneath Raiden, sand crusting her wavy hair as drops of sea water dripped from her lashes. Gods damn, she was beautiful.
The phantoms materialised next, the water ferret landing on Kora’s chest. She screamed as it squealed in delight.
The steel eagle—the one Raiden felt strangely connected to—soared overhead.
The fiery fox burrowed into the sand a few feet away, dousing its flaming exterior as it shut its coal-like eyes.
The stag stared down at Raiden. He was strange, almost deathly, rather than the vibrancy Kaiah had been depicted as.
Dying roots snaked around his body, and he laid down beside the fox, his head hovering over the terracotta fur.
Very strange.
“You just spirited.” Raiden gently petted the ferret, before pulling Kora to her feet. “It’s an extremely rare gift.”
“Spirited? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Kora winced, clutching at her chest. “My heart is on fire!”
“It takes a huge toll on your magic.” Raiden wrapped a cool current of air around her to soothe her flushed skin. “No mage has been known to master spiriting. It was something only the gods had been able to do—and their phantoms.”
Kora paused rubbing her chest. “What are you saying?”
“You might just be the most powerful mage to ever exist, more so than Aryn, and my father.” He attempted speaking casually, but his words choked.
Half elemental, half divine, and can spirit.
Kora Cadell was something else entirely.
White light had flared before she spirited by accident, meaning it could be linked to her divine powers.
The full extent of a divine’s magic was unknown, many lost to the frivolous faction wars, or the Staghart’s slaughter.
“No . . . I . . . I can barely wield anymore!” Kora spluttered, her round eyes widening.
“You will in time. You’re getting stronger again already. The light of your divine power is drawing the phantoms in.”
“Because you drugged me! Because Aryn is here with us! Without iriweed, or a velesma, or a gods-damned fucking male I’m tied to, I’m powerless.” Kora hacked a cough, her neck burning red, spreading from her chest.
“You’re never powerless. Let me get you inside, your body is in overdrive.” Raiden guided Kora back to her chambers, keenly aware of the phantoms tracking his every move.
As they reached the stairs, her limbs became heavy, her movements sluggish as the fatigue of wielding too much consumed her body.
Raiden could see the signs—he’d experienced them before briefly.
Thankfully, her nose wasn’t bleeding. The ferret—Cadence—followed their every move, even insisting on joining Kora in her bed.
Luckily, her liquid body didn’t dampen the sheets.
“Are you floating away still?” Kora mumbled as Raiden pulled the white sheets over her, tucking in the sides gently. Cadence nuzzled into the spare pillow, a tiny squealing yawn erupting from her small jaws.
“No, Huntress. Not anymore.” Raiden brushed her hair back as her dazzling eyes fluttered shut.
Kora slept through the entire night, and hadn’t arisen in the morning, so Raiden took the opportunity to catch up on his personal research.
The midnight-bound tome he’d retrieved from the archive remained open on Kora’s claimed study table, and he quickly scanned the pages once again, his patience thinning.
Barron had to be using something in that armour to deflect magic.
With no way for Leto to reach Skybell on his travels, Raiden needed to use every opportunity to find out for himself.
He’d checked every book on magic and spells, every article on defensive runes, every single fable on armour and weaponry.
But nothing gave any answers. The very history they needed had vanished.
Wiped away along with the rest of the islands.
Zephyr’s words floated through Raiden’s mind before his departure.
He claimed he’d fled to the western side to inspect the passageways to the Infernal Highland.
Zephyr had mentioned about potential raids, concerned that, with the Mist thinning, Talmon may try to attack from their undefended side.
Nothing lay beyond the Horrow Mountains except forests and dangerous ridges and peaks. All Galenites resided on the east side.
But Aerion’s theory churned his gut. Had it been a ruse? Was Zephyr out there, protecting the west from attack?
“I’ve never seen you read so much.” Aerion silently passed behind Raiden.
“Dire times call for dire actions.”
“Did something happen last night? Aryn had a weird . . . episode.” Aerion halted on the other side of the table, nursing a steaming cup of herbal tea.
“What do you mean?”
“He said he had this burning in his chest, and then his body lit up. Like a fucking candle.” Aerion raised a grey brow.
“There’s been some developments with Kora’s power, it’s all under control,” Raiden strained. He wasn’t sure whether to share about the phantoms. It was near-impossible. It meant Kora resided beyond their level of power, in the realm of gods.
Which made her a target. A prize. Was that why Barron was so obsessed with her? Did he already know of her potential? A protective streak surged, consuming Raiden, tightening every fibre of him until his power threatened to snap.
“Well, make sure it is. I don’t want another short-lived relationship.” Aerion’s stare hardened as he turned to leave.
“Are you both okay now?” Raiden grabbed his arm gently, sincerity bleeding through. Aerion’s suffering had been one of the most painful things about the Mist. His love for Aryn was intense, mighty. Their separation had nearly killed him.
Raiden had kept Aryn’s abandonment a secret.
Another reason he still found the archer frustrating.
Raiden knew telling Aerion the truth of what happened ten years ago would break him.
That Aryn thought leaving was better, safer, for whatever reason.
And when the Mist appeared . . . Aerion had no idea whether he still lived, or perished.
“What is a relationship if there aren’t a few rocky paths?
We’ll always be okay. He won’t explain the bond with Kora but .
. . I trust him. I know deep down he’ll have a reason, even if he’s too stubborn to say.
” Aerion shook his head fondly. “I’ve not managed to find a way to break the bond.
Which is just fucking ironic considering this is the archive of all the islands.
” Aerion frowned, his princely stare casing the curved library walls, peering at the shadowy corners.
He blinked as he surveyed the ceiling, every stroke hand-painted by Raiden, depicting the gods as he saw them.
Calypso was the most beautiful, a siren of the seas with wild hair that weaved like currents of the wind.
Haizea was a gleaming gem among the clouds, watching over Kaiah’s green body frolicking in the iridweed meadow, their face obscured by their hands.
Igniso was at the far end, a rising sun dawning on a new day, his flaming hands cupping the light.
The other end was Thanos, his infamous grey veil the barrier between Devania and Umbra, a sea of stars representing passed souls. Raiden grinded his jaw, noticing a black patch in the furthest corner. Was that mould?
“But this time with Aryn has been . . . special,” Aerion tore his attention away.
“Something we needed. Our cracks are mending. We’re having a date night before we head home to what I imagine will be a literal shit show, so don’t stay up late.
” Aerion winked, before gliding away. His navy trousers flowed around his ankles, a thick burgundy jumper drowning his slender frame.
At least one of them trusted Aryn. Raiden still wasn’t sure on his intentions. Or his magic.
Raiden pored through a book on stones, pausing on malachite to ensure it didn’t possess any magical properties.
It was nothing more than an aesthetic according to this book’s bland list of transformation and protection properties.
Still not enough to deflect magic. He promptly checked every cross-referenced black-looking rock until he landed on a missing ripped page, its torn edge splashed with darkness, a singular letter visible from the title: B.
“Fuck!” Raiden slammed the book shut.
What was his father up to? What was Barron up to?
How was he deflecting magic that fucking well?
Some runes on weapons could shield, but not to the extent that magic bounced off the defender.
Even Aryn’s magic had snapped upon impact.
He’d witnessed Kora’s blade shattering when she’d attempted to attack those guards in the Citadel—before she’d shut him out.
Something was in that disgusting armour they wore. And he would find out what. He rounded on that black patch again, staining his greatest painting. Had someone messed with the archive? Missing pages, lost titles, and now whatever the fuck was on the ceiling.
“Raiden?” Kora appeared in the doorway, still bleary-eyed from sleep.
She hesitantly approached him. A green, simple dress overlaid a crisp white shirt, her white hair damp and brushed back.
Jasmine and orange-blossom drifted towards him.
Even her posh soaps had made the trip. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing rows of pink leech marks that hadn’t fully healed yet.
Tension rolled off him, his fists clenched as he tried to smother the panic cresting.
“What’s wrong?” Her keen gaze swept over him, and he glanced away. “Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry, coming here was a waste of time,” Raiden clipped his words. “These books have no answers for us. The deadline for the deal is approaching. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
Kora nibbled her cheek. “Is he really going to kill me?”
An uncontrollable snarl ripped from his throat. “I won’t let that happen.” He rounded on Kora, and her eyes flared as he cupped her face. “Stop. Chewing. Your. Cheek.”
Her brows flew high. “It’s called a habit.”
“You could heal it if you wanted to. And the leech bites,” Raiden urged, his stare dropping to her lips. “Use your other power, harness it. I know you can.”
“Because something as simple as healing my cheek will make me strong?” Kora retorted, sarcasm oozing. Gods damn that mouth.
“You tell me.” Raiden lowered his head, unable to deny the attraction pulling him towards her anymore. The room shone with her light, the air thicker and sweeter, granting him the life he desperately sought.
Kora was a goddess. She was blessed, and fantastical in every way.
She was better than he could have ever imagined.
Their breath mingled, and Raiden swallowed as one hand cupped the back of her neck, the other caressing her jaw, his thumb sweeping over her scar.
He still wore the bracelet, her magic keeping the ice intact.
A sign she was still here, still in control.
Her gaze caught it, and Kora shivered. His lips tugged into a lazy smile as their mouths neared.
His heart raced. As though he’d never kissed her before. His head swam with her scent, relentlessly consuming him, purging him into a primal state that drove him mad. He needed her. He needed her now.
Kora’s hands flew to his wrists, her eyes flaring in apprehension. Raiden’s stomach plummeted as she stepped back, shaking her head. “No, Raiden. We can’t.”
His eyes shuttered, the words like ice as Kora retreated until her back hit the table, creating enough space between them as wide as the Black Abyss.
“Tell me why.” His voice was low, feral, and certainly didn’t sound like him.
“I’m not Kordelia anymore,” Kora mumbled through her words.
“You’re only interested because I look like your past. But I’m not that person.
I’m . . . I’m finally finding my place in this world.
Discovering who I am, what I can do. I nearly sacrificed my entire life for Blake.
I had put my dreams on hold to ensure I had his love. ”
“I would never ask you to do that!” Raiden’s temper flared at the mention of that mutt.
“I’m repenting for my actions still.” Kora looked down at the pristine floor. “I know you feel that I was misled. An innocent captain in Barron’s plan. But I still killed those people. I don’t deserve anything right now. I need to put this world first.”
Raiden’s chest cracked as he realised what she was saying.
“I know what you did, Huntress.” The lash of his tone had her meeting his gaze.
“Don’t mistake me for a blind Galenite. I saw and felt everything through your eyes.
You’ve grown, and you outgrew Blake Marwood long before he broke your heart.
He was the one holding you back, and then he insulted you with Bree Hydrafort. ”
Kora flinched. “Truly, how much of my life did you see?”
“Enough of it,” Raiden answered truthfully, his arms folding. “Enough to know you push people away when they get too close. Enough to recognise a self-saboteur. You’re afraid. You’re afraid of the powers you possess, of protecting your loved ones. Of me.”
She stormed up to him, her fury radiating in burning blue irises. “Stay out of my head, Windward. I never asked you to watch. I never wanted you to. You were a plague in my mind. Things could’ve been simpler if you hadn’t manipulated me toward the Mist.”
“Manipulate you?” Raiden reared back. “I saved your life! Let me know when you realise that, if you’d stayed, you’d be trapped in a cage of black-and-green.”
Before she could answer, he spun on his heel, escaping the Galen Archive. His heart pounded viciously, threatening to tear from his chest as he rounded into the kitchens. Grabbing the nearest bag of flour, Raiden heaved it over his shoulder as his winds slammed the door shut.
With a grunt, he smacked the sack of flour onto the wooden countertop and the fire behind him roared like his burning desire, entwined with sheer frustration. Kneading flour and water, the dough grew with each drop of boiling depravity he poured into it.