Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dimitri was coming for me.
Father had nearly always stayed behind the safety of his armies, letting them take the fall for him. Even when he did get his hands dirty, he was never on the front lines leading his soldiers into battle himself.
Yet, there was my twin heading toward me, doing exactly that.
For him, this was personal.
And because I knew he’d strike down anybody who stood between him and me, I realized I’d have to beat our soldiers to him.
Steeling myself for what was to come, I began flapping my wings in large strokes—heading straight for Dimi.
Flying as quickly as I could, I pulled Elaera from her sheath, which lay against my back. I wanted to be prepared, since I knew Dimitri wouldn’t be leaving without a fight. Then I focused on recalling our previous confrontation.
He’d been primarily fond of using his fire zirilium, though I knew he also had the ability to wield shadows after he slipped in and out of his shadow form, even if it had been brief.
It had obviously surprised him, too, though there was no telling if he’d been able to strengthen his abilities since then—or if he had any others.
As I neared, I could make out my brother’s bone white hair—the same shade as mine—pushed back out of his face.
He was dressed in a deep red color that made up his trousers, top, and overcoat.
His outfit, to my surprise, was detailed with the gold fit for a king.
He also had on gold rings, I realized, though the morning sun reflected off them oddly.
Gold had always been abundant in the South, while in the North, the same could be said of silver. Father always wore silver—I’d never even seen him touch gold.
I imagined if Dimi still had Father’s advisors in place, that they’d protested about this small act of defiance, though it seemed like my brother lacked any concern over the matter.
When I came within shouting distance of him, meeting at what I imagined was the middle of the encampment, I paused, holding myself in the sky.
“Brother,” I said, calling out loud enough so he could hear my greeting.
He guided his griffin a few wingbeats closer before pausing.
“Sister,” he responded, though his tone rang with sarcasm.
“We don’t have to do this.” My heart skipped a beat as his army caught up to him, thinking they’d come for me first. Instead, they gave me and Dimitri a wide berth, continuing toward the Southern army I’d help bring here today.
“I fear we do, though, don’t we?” he said, lifting himself from Ziana’s back and flying on his own.
It wasn’t until then that I realized another figure—somebody smaller—rode behind him.
But before I could glance under the hood of their cloak, Ziana dipped down toward the battlefield below, taking the mystery rider out of sight with her.
“We could call a truce. Right here, right now,” I offered, though I could tell by the set of his shoulders that it was no use.
“We both know you wouldn’t leave here without these prisoners,” he responded. “And I’m not giving them up without a fight.”
I watched as he drew Tarrious—our father’s black, onyx crested sword—from its sheath at his side as he spoke, signaling just how serious he was being.
“There are other ways than this, Dimi,” I called out, desperation breaching the tone of my voice as I motioned to the beginnings of what would be a bloody battlefield below us.
“If there are, I don’t know them,” he claimed. “And even if I did, I would still choose this, Viva. Father gave me a final task, and I will not fail in this.”
With that, he surged forward so quickly, I barely had time to lift Elaera over my head in time to block a bone-shaking blow. Metal sounded against metal as Dimi retreated a breath, then swung again.
Again and again he swung, aiming for critical points on my body.
He had the upper hand here—he’d caught me off guard, and now I couldn’t seem to catch up enough to carry out any hits or swings of my own.
I was left defending myself over and over again as we flew around each other in circles, far above the battlefield.
“You know—” Dimitri began, but as he began to speak, he left his side exposed—something he had taught me to never do.
Surging forward at the opportunity, his sentence was cut short as Elaera drew first blood when I sliced open his side.
The cut wasn’t deep enough to kill him, but as my twin sucked his teeth, I knew it’d been deep enough to hurt.
“You taught me that,” I noted, gaining on him as I brought my sword down toward his sword-wielding shoulder. “Aren’t you proud, brother?”
Grinding his teeth, he blocked my blow with Tarrious, though by his contorted expression I knew I’d hit a sensitive spot in his ego by drawing blood before he could.
“Proud isn’t the word I would use to describe what I’m feeling,” he ground out as he arced wide. I did my best to spin out of range, but the sudden bloom of pain and warm blood on my upper arm quickly let me know I’d hadn’t been fast enough.
“This bores me,” Dimi stated—his demeanor much too calm for my liking—before he conjured fire to his other hand. Touching the fire to Tarrious, the flames leaped to the blade, coating it completely. “Now that is more like it.”
Flying backwards a few beats, I moved just in time to miss the first swing of the fiery sword.
“You seem like you have more control over your newfound zirilium,” I noted, trying to distract him for even a moment. “Found a teacher? Maybe right here in this encampment?”
The smirk that grew over my brother’s face looked so much like our father’s that my chest ached at the sight.
“Yes, actually,” he replied, taking a moment to dramatically swing Tarrious in an arc in front of him. “Mother.”
With no further explanation, he began to advance on me. Though before he could, a loud crack of thunder rattled my teeth with how high in the sky we were.
Snapping my head to look above, I realized the weather wielders were crafting one of the largest wielder-made storms I’d ever seen. A good storm was all the North needed to sway any battle in their favor. And if what I’d seen of the battlefield below was still accurate, the navy had yet to arrive.
Somebody had to stop the storm.
Or at least slow it down.
I gasped as I felt Tarrious and its flames bounce off the black chain-mail armor I had covering my torso. If I didn’t have it on, that may have been a critical strike.
And yet Dimitri had taken the opportunity with no hesitation.
Meeting his eyes, I searched deep in his gaze for the brother I once knew better than I knew myself. He had to be in there somewhere, and yet right then, he remained lost to me.
I felt a fissure tear in my heart as I realized I’d have to eventually give up on him.
I hoped the dip in my emotions didn’t stumble Byn, who I could feel was drawing closer. But as the clouds began to thicken overhead, I knew I had more to worry about than both my twin and my husband.
This was about all of Inphis.
Lifting my chin in an effort to not look as troubled as I felt, I called out to Dimitri, “Catch me if you can.”
Then I tucked my wings in close to my body and nosedived.
A controlled fall took more skill than it might have appeared. And to get to my destination, I had to fight every urge in my body to spread my wings and simply fly the rest of the way there. But I knew falling was faster, and right then, every second mattered.
Before I could get too close to the ground, I angled myself just right, then spread my wings wide.
Gliding along a perfectly timed air current, it carried me closer to the western towers.
The weather wielders seemed to be somewhere in between the middle of the encampment and the western towers, and since my twin was in the middle, I chose the towers instead.
I considered going directly for the weather wielders, but they were generally very heavily guarded, and I wasn’t sure of their exact location. Plus, since the storm overhead wasn’t slowing down, I knew they were still safe enough to be wielding the sky—and I doubted I could take them all on my own.
I touched down on the flat roof of one of the towers, rolling to a stop and quickly jumping to my feet. I’d always been a faster flier than my twin, and I knew the drop I’d pulled had bought me extra time, too—though it still wouldn’t be much.
I could feel Byn drawing closer again—as though he was following the soul-tie between us to me—but I blocked out that feeling in favor of focusing every piece of myself on the task before me.
I clenched my eyes shut tight as I funneled all of my power into the moon stone on the third finger of my left hand—the one I used to weather wield. Throwing as much energy into it as I could muster, I flung my open hands in the air and connected with the sky.
With small storms, it was easy to form a fist and put an end to it in one motion. But with how much energy was behind this storm, I could barely bend my fingers against the raw zirilium I could feel fighting against my attempt to slow down the storm formation.
Digging deeper into myself, I realized there were so many more levels to my zirilium than I’d ever known. Funneling more and more of myself into this one act, my fingers slowly began to bend, forcing the storm to slow ever so slightly.
But it wouldn’t be enough.
My mouth fell open in a scream as I burrowed even deeper into the core of my power. I fell to my knees as my entire body shook with the effort to close my fists and pause the forming storm overhead—even if only for an extra moment.
A moment on the battlefield could mean life or death.
And not only were my soldiers, my people, on both sides of this war—but so were my friends. My family.
And for them, I could do anything.
It felt as though my very flesh and muscles were ripping themselves from my bones with the physical strain this was putting on my body.
And yet, I pushed harder. My voice gave out as I dug a tad deeper, funneling every fiber of my power and energy as a wielder into the act at hand.
I could vaguely feel my body violently shaking, but I was so far down inside of my own zirilium that it felt like a distant thought—not even a concern.
Then, with that final push, I closed my fists—the energy of an entire storm now being held in my hands.
I gasped, once again able to recognize the sudden agony I felt as the pain in my body from using so much energy.
Back in my own body, I quickly folded in on myself, bringing my closed fists to my chest and holding them there.
I still shook violently, the power of the energy I was holding back buzzing within every inch of me, fighting for a way out.
Still kneeling on the tower’s roof, I looked up and was reassured to find that the storm that had been circling overhead had paused its formation.
It hadn’t dissipated, but it looked as though it had frozen in time, and I knew that so long as I kept this energy trapped within me, I could spare the Southern army a few more moments.
Then I felt the edge of a sword being pressed against my throat.
I hadn’t been enough.
“You know, twin,” Dimi started, leaning over my kneeled form to keep Tarrious pressed firmly against my neck. “Aurora said you’d grown soft. Weak, even.”
He let out a menacing chuckle before adding, “But I guess she didn’t see this side of you in all her time spent among the filth of the South.”
Knowing that if I tried to speak, I would likely shift the sword, I stayed silent. I was still shaking so hard that I felt the sword against my neck begin to slice through my skin anyway—without Dimitri even needing to press further.
“All that power was wasted on you, though,” he sighed. “We could have been the most powerful of the entire realm—together.”
Suddenly, Dimitri gripped my braided hair and pulled my head backwards, better exposing my throat.
“I… didn’t want it to come to this, you know,” he said, his voice a breath softer before it hardened again. “But nothing can stand in my way. Even you, Viva.”
There.
The twin I knew was still in there, buried deep under layers of hurt.
And if I died today at his hand, at least I knew I’d gotten to hear a glimpse of him one last time.
I stared up at the still frozen clouds overhead, my body screaming at me to let go—though I still refused.
I’d meet the Stars with my fists still clenched if I had to.
I would give my people my final moments.
It was all I had left to offer.
And as I felt Dimitri shift his weight slightly, likely readying himself to spill my lifeblood, I decided I was alright with that.
Then, my brother’s form went rigid behind me as a voice, one dripping with hatred and fury, spoke slowly from behind him.
“Drop the sword, Dimitri.”
The voice belonged to somebody I would always recognize.
Byn.