“There are only two seats on the eternal throne.” His voice was only a breath, a rustle in the breeze. It was a voice so threaded with power, it barely had a sound at all. It was a feeling … and it felt like truth.
“Well…” I passed my eyes between them, the truth hanging heavy in the air. They had finally admitted it. They were using me to get to the throne in the afterworld. “That sounds like your problem.”
I took the half step forward needed to press against Vale’s stomach. He refused to move. I tried Helki, who stood next to him, and who also refused to move. They were staring at me like they couldn’t quite believe I was real—and not in a good way. Maybe this wasn’t one of the many possible fates they had expected from my encounter with the Spider. Maybe they had all prepared for me to die—all of them except Vidrol.
I skipped the others and went straight for Andel, stopping right before him, my head tipped up to his. He was smarter than the others—quicker to move on to more practical matters. He would already be thinking ten steps ahead, already planning his next move. He stepped aside for me, watching as I walked to the edge of the rock ledge we stood on. The entire top of the mountain had been blown to absolute pieces. One section of the rock had rolled down into the valley below, carving out a muddy path down the range. I stood at the edge of the rock, my eyes on the churning coastline in the distance, past the sprawl of Edelsten town.
I lifted my hand, my fingers curling into the air. “Lotte,” I murmured, trying to step into the midworld as I pulled my hand to the right, the same way I would draw a curtain.
I lifted my foot to take a step, but nothing happened. With an uneasy feeling, I tried again, injecting a little bit of urgency into the word. Still, nothing happened.
“What have you done?” I ground out, spinning on my heel.
The masters were still standing exactly where I had left them, still staring at me, still torn between their need to punish—or maybe kill me—and their need to examine this new turn of events.
“You’re depleted,” Fjor answered, his dark eyes assessing me. “You won’t be using your power again any time soon.”
“I need to get to the midworld.” I was saying it more to myself than to them, panic sparking inside my chest.
Calder was trapped.
“The situation can be amended,” Andel replied. “If you choose one of us—”
“No deal.” I turned away, stepping down to the muddy mountainside.
The path down was treacherous, rivulets of water still tracing through the dirt—but Frey had my ring. I would have to walk back to Edelsten.
“Your Blodsjel will tear himself apart not knowing what has happened to you,” Andel cautioned me. “He’ll go insane, trapped in there until your power returns.”
“I heal quicker than you think,” I tossed over my shoulder, picking my way down step by step. “And we all know as soon as I choose one of you, the rest of you will kill me.”
“Then choose the man who can protect you.” It was Helki who spoke, stepping to the ledge above me, his light brown eyes watching my progress. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
I scoffed, pausing to stare up at him. “What about you, Helki? Once you have me, will you hurt me?”
The brightness died out of his eyes, like a mask falling away. The beast inside him leered out at me for a moment, before he turned on his heel and left me to my descent.
“I’m sorry, Calder,” I whispered, pausing for a moment to glance up at the sky again.
The sun was beginning to set, a soft golden glow spreading out over the horizon. It appeared utterly normal, no sign of that angry red ball that had been intent on burning every inch of the land we stood on. It descended in a calm, unassuming way, stretching out lazy beams to streak the sky. The fires across the forest and valley beneath had stopped, drenched by the torrential rain, and even the smog had somehow cleared, though a tinge of it remained, making the sunset a brighter, larger orange than it usually was.
It took me several hours to reach the base of the mountain, and it was dark by the time I began trudging through the valley, my clothes covered in mud. It was upsetting to walk through the charcoal trees, to spot the burned animal carcasses, to wash my hands and face in the streams running black with soot. The valley beneath Widow’s Range had been one of the most picturesque in all of Fyrio. I had never thought I would see it with my own eyes, but there I was, walking through its skeleton.
My eyelids were drooping and my limbs growing stiff from exhaustion when I reached the first settlement encircling Edelsten town. The stewards of Edelsten lived outside the town walls, managing small pockets of farmland nestled around the low hills at the edge of the valley. The settlement I walked past had a wooden picket fence, now hanging in charred remains. The earth had been dug up inside the fenced area, fresh soil packed on top of what I assumed was a grave of some kind. There was a torch tied to one of the remaining, unburnt fence posts, right at the far edge of the property. I walked toward it, following the fence line, until I realised there were two shadows beyond the firelight. They stood there like sentries, and my hand flexed, wishing for a weapon of some kind.
I was defenceless without my power.
I slowed my step, moving away from the fence until I was several paces from them.
“Tempest,” one of them greeted, holding something out. “Our thanks.”
Confused, I stepped just close enough to see what was in the bowl cradled by his hands.
Bread. Cheese. Some kind of cured meat.
My stomach cramped painfully at the sight of food, and I stumbled the rest of the way over to them, taking the bowl and holding the bread up before my face. I stared at it, waiting for any hint of the Darkness … but the Darkness was gone and the food was clean. I shoved it in my mouth, falling back against the post they leaned on. We stayed there in silence as I demolished the bread and the meat. It wasn’t until the cheese was halfway to my mouth that I realised these two men might have just given me all the food they had.
I split the cheese three ways, handing two of the pieces to the man beside me. He accepted them without a word, handing one to the other. His brother, it looked like. They were both a little older than me.
“Where is the rest of your family?” I asked them.
I knew I wouldn’t like the answer, but it seemed important to ask it all the same. The stewards suffered in the dark, their hardship invisible to the sectorians.
“Died when the house collapsed,” the brother closest to me answered.
He lifted the scarf wrapping his head and wiped his face with the end of it. They were both covered in dirt.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“You lost your mother,” he replied. “I’m sorry for that.”
The food churned sickeningly in my stomach, and I turned, facing these complete strangers, their faces lined with weariness and grief.
They were the first people to speak of the death of my mother as though it had happened to me, and not just to her. To offer me sympathy. To apologise to me—the person who killed her.
“How did you know I would be walking past?” I asked, handing back the empty bowl and shoving away my feelings.
“The world was ending—our father told us to pray to the Fjorn. When the peak exploded, we thought it was all over.” He looked behind me, knowing the landscape even in the dark. “But then that dark shadow spread everywhere, burning up all the infected cows and eating up the air like it was getting rid of something rotten all around us. We knew it was you. You saved us. We’ve been waiting here ever since.”