Chapter 5
The word ‘Veil’ had conjured an image of fabric in my mind, floating perhaps across a doorway or an arch of some kind. But while there is indeed an archway of ice containing the Issen’s mysterious test, that is the only part of what I am faced with that meets my expectations.
Because the Veil is not fabric, but pure fucking flames.
Heat radiates from the flickering tongues, so scorching that I have to shield my face as I move closer.
Sweat beads down my spine instantly, and I hastily divest myself of my coat.
There is no denying the reality of the fire that I face, which billows and flutters just as a real flame would when it encounters a breeze.
The sound it emits is that of wood burning – crackling and spitting – and a loud snap causes me to jump back, my heart racing.
Little Raven? Fen’s voice is thick with fear. What is it? Have you reached the Veil?
I’m fine, I lie. Hush now, I must focus. I love you.
I put up a block so that he can’t feel the dread that has taken hold in the pit of my stomach.
The churning hollowness has come with the knowledge of what I have to do.
There is no other option. There is nothing else in this cave besides walls of ice.
Nothing else I can possibly step through, and Magnus said quite clearly that I must step through it. This wall of fire is the Veil.
With bitterness, I think of the eagerness in Ranveeg’s eyes.
Acceptance or death. I live or I’m grilled alive.
A deep aroma of charred pine fills the blistering air as sweat drips down into my eyes, blurring my vision.
I cannot draw my eyes away from my fate.
And yet, even in such heat, my body is rife with goosebumps.
Whether it’s the magnificent terror of what stands before me or my imminent death, it’s impossible to know.
How can I even hope to step through without setting my entire body alight?
Perish. That was the word that Ranveeg used. What she actually meant was be burned alive. Surely a blaze this fierce would turn my very bones to ash?
My eyes instinctively move to the ground, as if expecting to see a pile of grey there on the ice, though the fact that there is none is of little comfort. It likely would have been swept away before the next fool tried their hand at facing the Veil.
But I’ve entered impossible things before. Entered and survived. Etta herself has blessed me; maybe she still does.
Please, Etta, Goddess of Life, let me survive this test.
Steeling myself against the tremble of my knees, I close my eyes.
The bright red light of the flames is still strong enough to permeate the thin skin of my eyelids, and I try not to let it distract me as I think of why I am doing this.
I think of my siblings. Of Kay and the baby she bears, and my brother William, who was lost but now is found.
They will never be safe unless I do this.
Eyes still screwed shut, I scream with what might be my last breath of air as I step into the flames.
The pain is overwhelming. Every inch of my body shrieks in agony, from my muscles to my fingernails to the very marrow of my bones.
I need to jump back. Need to get out of it.
But no sooner has that thought entered than another one strikes.
I have to go through the Veil. That’s what Magnus said.
Ranveeg too. They’ve all talked about going through the Veil.
Not taking one step in and then jumping back out again.
And as long as I can form a semi-coherent thought beneath the agonising torture of the flames, I will do what I am meant to.
Pain consumes me, and I falter. I wonder if these will be my last moments. I think of Mother and Father. Will I be seeing them soon? What will I say now that I know so much more? Now that I know the secrets they hid from the child I was.
No. I cannot give up. I force my thoughts back to Kay and William. For them, I will suffer anything.
And so, as my limbs howl in agony, I take another step forward, then another, then another.
Trying to draw in a steady breath, I cry out as I bend my head into my chest, shielding it with my arms and elbows as I inch forward.
Light pierces through my eyelids, and my nostrils are filled with the aroma of damp grass. Or perhaps dew. But surely it should be a bitter aroma of charred hair and skin overwhelming my senses?
Unless Mortidem has already taken me? That feels like the most obvious answer, yet as I move again, the scent of fresh rain and earth intensifies, and colours shift across my eyelids, going from that vivid red into a deep gold.
‘Am I still alive?’ I whisper. The sound of my voice echoes, amplified through the hollow cave. It’s followed by silence.
What happened to the crackle of the flames?
With the question, I blink my eyes open again, only to immediately squeeze them shut. That golden glow that penetrated my lids is blindingly bright, and coloured blotches confuse the vision of my tightly shut eyes. But the silence remains. The crackling has definitely stopped.
And the pain?
I clench and unclench my hands. A slight ache throbs deep within my wrists and knuckles, but certainly not the crippling agony of before. With the same tentative apprehension, I wiggle my toes, which move even more easily.
‘I’m alive.’
This time the words come out not as a question but as a statement.
Slower this time, I try to open my eyes, but it’s difficult. The colours … they’re shifting. There’s that bright yellow, but another hue too. With one hand shading my eyes to protect them from any sudden onslaught, I turn around.
My free hand flies to my mouth.
The flames of the Veil remain, but they are no longer hot red. Instead, they are deep blue.
Iridescent, ethereal, and utterly beautiful.
Instinctively, my fingers move towards the flames, expecting the same burn of heat as before, but it’s not there.
Instead, there is a coolness. Not coldness.
Coolness. Like a breeze drifting from the sea on a sweltering day.
But the temperature of the flames quickly disappears from my mind as my gaze lands on my skin.
My hands are marked. Black lines weave across them; thin and delicate, like tendrils of smoke, they drift up towards my elbows where they fade into nothing. A little like the Issen pattern and yet so very different in colour.
An outward sign that I made it through the Veil.
My heart throbs in my chest with all that this moment means. My friends are safe. They have to be. Surely there’s no way even Ranveeg would dare kill the companions of an Issen princess?
An Issen princess.
The words make me stumble back slightly. This is too much. Too much to take in.
As I stand there, still gaping at the blue tones of the flame, I feel a pressure growing inside me. Inside my skull. My chest. Everywhere. My pulse rockets. Was I wrong to think I had survived it? Is this just a stage of death? A last moment before my powers return to Mortidem?
My fear rises for an instant before I shake away my stupidity.
Fen.
Fen is panicking and forcing himself against the block I put up between us. That’s the sensation.
With a flurry of relief and embarrassment at my reaction, I drop the block.
I’m sorry you were scared. I’m alive, I tell him the moment we connect. I made it through the Veil.
Little Raven, I am relieved to hear your voice. His words are casual but the sea of relief that swamps me is anything but. He was terrified of losing me.
And I yours, I admit. A moment of mutual love courses between us.
So, Fen’s voice continues, a new grandfather. Does that mean no to attacking and killing his people? I’m really hungry. His voice borders on whiny.
I’ll keep you posted, I think. We are safe … for now. No killing and eating until that changes. Then, all bets are off.
I do not trust them. Especially not the general.
We can’t kill her just because we don’t trust her, I point out drily. That is not considered civilised behaviour.
Civility is overrated. It is a suitable punishment for them caging us in that prison. You should have let me rip out their throats then and there.
I’m not sure that would have enamoured them into helping me learn Issen magic, I point out. I need to tell the others I’m okay. Kyor must be beside himself. We need to hurry.
I don’t think haste will be necessary, Little Raven, he says, his voice a little droll.
Not necessary? I shrug on my coat as I start up the steps. I think he would quite like to know I’m still alive.
Oh, he knows. Believe me, everyone knows. Come to the surface, Little Raven, Fen speaks through my confused silence. You will see for yourself.
‘This … this…’ My voice stutters as I struggle to find the words, but whether it’s because of what I’ve just gone through or what I’m facing now, who knows.
I did tell you, Fen says a shade smugly.
There is a beam of golden light that shoots upwards from the cave entrance, so bright it looks as though it could reach the sun itself. And even at this distance, I can hear how some of the crowd now celebrate.
‘This is a sign that the lost princess has returned,’ Magnus tells me, glancing at the marks upon my hands, a smile glinting in his eyes if not on his lips.
‘Welcome home, Granddaughter. The people of Isthyr are awaiting you.’ He passes me a pair of delicate white gloves that are long enough to run to my elbow.
‘It is tradition,’ he explains, ‘to cover the markings of the Veil until you display them at your first dinner and show you’ve been accepted.
’ He glances at the rays of gold still beaming.
‘Though there can be little doubt of that today.’
I fancy I hear some pride in his voice. I take the gloves, but do not yet pull them on, my eyes fixed, staring upwards at the stunning light, making it almost seem like day in the pitch of night.
The king starts forward, but I’m still rooted to the spot. Only when Magnus is far enough away that I’ll have to run to catch him up do I pull the gloves on and hurry after him.