Chapter 29 Avilyna
Avilyna
RESIDUAL MAGIC
The Institute's library is ridiculous.
Ridiculously big, ridiculously beautiful and ridiculously boring.
It’s all pointed arch and cathedral ceilings that vanish into shadow, with shelves that stretch on forever, stuffed with books.
But when you’ve been stuck at a table for two hours straight listening to an Alchemy Master go on about the sacred duty of runes based on star charts.
Magic or not, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m so bored.
Across from me, Alek is already halfway gone.
Eyes glazed, quill dangling between his fingers, he loves playing the perfect son, but even he can’t fake it forever.
I’m doodling Skyfire eating apples in the margins of my scroll.
I’m not really talented, but at this point, I’ll do anything for a distraction.
That’s when I feel the Master’s stare. He clears his throat in that special way that means I’m about to be very disappointed in you. But before he can launch into another lecture, Alek leans back and asks, way too casually.
“Have you ever played hide-and-seek in here, Master Arugo?”
Master blinks. “In the library? Certainly not! This is a place of—”
“Perfect,” I cut in, already sliding off the bench. “You count, Alek. I’ll hide.”
He looks at me with mischief in his eyes, “Is tú an trioblóideoir is fearr liom.”
You’re my favourite troublemaker, and I smile widely while Master Arugo looks at us in horror.
“See, we know the Gods’ language,” I shout before we start sprinting through the maze of bookcases, our laughter echoing.
On those rare occasions when our twin brains are in full sync, nothing can stop us.
And we know our parents. Dad will turn it into a playful tale, and Mom will have no choice but to put on a show to keep up appearances.
As long as we don’t overdo it, who can blame a couple of kids for playing pranks?
The shelves rise like cliffs on either side of us.
Dust motes drift lazily in the pink light, and enchanted scrolls hover just out of reach.
Tapestries stretch between arches as flags.
And then… Kallahan, the cold kingdom. The wild one, a snow-draped mountain range under a violet sky.
A valkyrie riding a winged steed, lycans howling at her heels.
Her spear points forward, aimed straight at whatever battle she’s already winning.
I stop to stare, just for a second. My favourite tapestry, always. One day, that’ll be me, just like Mom.
“Five! Four!” Alek’s voice echoes.
I keep running, and that’s when I see it. A massive curtain. Mom showed me this path the night of the snowstorm. We’d stayed late at the Institute; meetings had gone well past their usual time. I can still hear her voice, close to my ear as a lullaby, from when we wandered off, chasing a story.
“This door leads where only valkyrie blood may go.”
I peel back the heavy fabric. Behind it, a narrow hallway appears, ending in a wooden door carved with ancient runes.
“Ready or not, here I come!” Alek’s voice echoes faintly through the stacks.
I grab the blade Dad gave me on my seventh birthday and press the tip to my finger, a sharp sting.
“He’ll never find me here,” I whisper, grinning mischievously, just as the runes drink the drop of blood.
I stop in front of this massive needlework, lightheaded from the vision.
Looking around, making sure there are no students behind the closed-by shelves before lifting the heavy material.
Before reaching the wooden door hidden under, I pull out the dagger from my belt and slice my palm; the cut burns sharply, and I welcome it.
Pressing my wet skin flat against the runes.
Those flare to life as soon as the word is out of my mouth, “ftah.”
The soft click echoes in the silence, and the door opens slowly.
Slipping in, I swing it shut, swallowing myself in total darkness.
I can’t see a damn thing. Taking a careful step is not enough; my foot slips, and down I go, landing hard on my ass.
Ego bruised along with my tailbone, my fingers dig into the cold stone wall for balance.
Slowly, I move forward, tracing the rough surface, hunting for even the faintest hint of light. Then, finally, a torch.
“Thank God,” I whisper.
Or maybe Kvirr is more fitting, since I summon its magic. Flames burst to life all along the spiral staircase, lighting the way. Relief floods my lungs before I slowly go down the stairs, the sound of flowing water growing louder.
White columns rise, circling an underground cavern.
The bluish light from the worms casts an eerie hue over the water.
Pooling around what seems to be a temple.
At its center, a fountain stands proud, pegasus flanked by its valiant warriors, and it hits me then.
This is one of the sacred havens of valkyries.
They’re usually built where the veil is thinner between the pantheon of the Gods and Elgar.
No wonder this place is so vast, with ceilings that stretch high above.
It must be buried beneath the mountain that surrounds the Institute.
At the center, a golden suit of armour, coated in dust, stands on display.
The helmet resting atop it, metal wings spread wide, as if it’s ready to take flight.
The statue’s palm is raised, holding a sword lying flat.
Looking at it more carefully, I notice that it isn’t a simple weapon but a katana; the blade glints a light purple.
This has to be the late Queen’s armour. Only the strongest valkyries have their shields showcased.
Circling the display, a small light flickers in front of me.
It blinks slowly, then starts spinning around me before darting off.
It’s faster than a pixie and doesn’t have a definite form.
Am I supposed to follow it?
Fuck it, I’m following the small flame thing. It reappears a bit farther down and suddenly stops in front of a piece of art on the wall. The painting displays a valkyrie floating mid-air with bloodied wings. Her head is down in defeat. The light moves closer to the wall to display its writings.
In the realm of Elgar, one day darkness will reign,
A fallen angel shall awaken from its dream.
With wings of fire and a heart burdened with plight,
Its blood shall wield power to set things right.
Through the veil of time, its return is foreseen,
To restore the balance and mend what has been.
With each drop of its blood, evil shall be undone,
And the stolen peace of Elgar shall be won.
So mark this prophecy, let its words resound,
For the lost valkyrie's return shall be unbound.
With its blood as the catalyst, evil shall cease,
And the harmony of Elgar shall find its release.
“What the hell is this?” My voice sounds foreign to my ears, shaken with fear.
What’s that cryptic nonsense?
The only clear message is the one of evil and blood. Sure, the whole dream thing feels a little too precise to be a coincidence. But I don’t have wings, literally or figuratively. Even less flamed ones…
I’m going to be sick. My breath comes in fast, my head spins. I need out—now. I step back, eyes distant, mind running wild, trying to grab at anything, any solution.
Wait…
Who says it’s me?
I need to calm my stupid nerves. Closing my eyes, I take a deep inhale. That light might have led me here to make me aware of the prophecy. To share that the key to ending evil lies with the valkyries, not me, per se. But it resides in the angel warriors reclaiming their place, their stolen honour.
Yes, that’s it!
If the spiderwebs strung between the columns here mean anything, it is that I’m the first person down here in what may be a decade.
Makes sense, the residual magic just tugged at something it recognized, my valkyrie’s blood.
If I’m the daughter of one of them, that means someone betrayed us, and I’m going to find out who.
The way I came in is too obvious, and I can't risk anyone discovering this place. And the river, well, sure, if I want to end up somewhere surrounded by creatures that want to eat me or worse, toy with me. A disgusted shiver shakes me. No, thank you.
They say when you're truly bonded with your familiar, it can find you anywhere as long as you’re in the same realm. I hope that part isn't just a myth.
“Skyfire!” I call into the cavern, my voice bouncing off the ancient stone walls.
Nothing.
“SKYFIRE!” I shout again, louder this time, as if sheer willpower can summon her from the skies. The sound echoes, making me cringe, and still nothing.
Magic here works best when you stop trying to force it, something I'm still trying to apply.
My teachers keep repeating to feel it, to listen for the hidden whispers in everything around me.
So I close my eyes and breathe deeply, slowly.
Reaching beyond myself, then I feel it. The subtle shift in the air, the ancient pulse of something pure.
A minute passes, and Skyfire appears. Her silhouette slices through a narrow fissure high in the cavern wall.
Her wings catch the reflections of the glowing worms scattered across the ceiling.
Casting shimmers across her feathers like threads of silver.
She lands with effortless grace, her hooves barely making a sound against the cavern floor.
Trotting toward me, she lets out a low, familiar whinny, then nudges my shoulder with her nose.
“You’re the best, you know that?” I murmur, my fingers sinking into her soft mane. Swinging onto her back, I press a hand to her side.“Let’s go.”
Skyfire rears back, with a powerful thrust, and she launches us into the air.
The wind rushes past us, tugging at my braid.
My stomach flutters with the exhilarating drop.
For a heartbeat, I laugh. A genuine, unguarded sound that feels like freedom itself.
We move as one, rider and skyborn, weaving through the cavern's towering stalactites and shimmering crystals.
The world below becomes a blur of shadows, and for the first time in ages, I feel unburdened, connected to something greater than myself.
Skyfire banks toward a narrow opening at the top of the cavern.
Just as I'd suspected, a hidden way out of this sanctum, but I freeze.
People will see us, out in the open. A flying pegasus isn't exactly subtle.
"Sky, we need to get down!" She lets out a soft neigh…
And suddenly, the world bends around us. Light distorts, air shimmers, and then, we vanish. Not gone, just invisible, Skyfire cloaks us; her mane a perfect mirror of the sky around us.
"You clever, magical showoff," I whisper, a grin tugging at my lips. She snorts in agreement, and just like that, we fly unseen.