Page 48 of Legacy of the Heirs (The Lost Kingdom Saga #2)

Elisara

“ K azaar!” Elisara screamed, pounding her fists against the wall. “Kazaar!” She shouted again, her heart racing.

“Stand back,” Vlad told her calmly. Elisara spun her head, not wanting to distance herself from reaching Kazaar, but quickly stepped aside as Vlad unsheathed his sword and swung it repeatedly at the ice. No sound came from the other side.

“Kazaar,” Elisara whispered in her mind, yet was met by silence. She began pacing, and her steps adopted the same rhythm as Vlad’s sword as he continued chipping away at the wall that had appeared.

“Elisara…” It was the faintest whisper, but it was him. It was enough.

“I will find you,” she said, hoping he heard. Elisara was not thinking rationally as she spun for the opposite pathway, intent on finding Kazaar.

“Eli, wait!” Vlad shouted. Elisara barely felt his hand graze her arm as she stepped into the pathway, and the Light was sucked from her surroundings as another wall of ice grew behind her to block out everything.

Gasping, Elisara spun and reached to touch the newly formed wall; this one was vacant of any patterns, and it felt colder than normal—a cold that pierced her skin like it might brand her.

She looked upward at the sky, yet the mighty walls only provided slithers of light.

Find Kazaar. Find Kazaar, and then the talisman.

He had taken the path to the right. Elisara should eventually reach him if she alternated between right and straight ahead.

She hoped he had a similar train of thought.

Every part of Elisara yearned to hurry through the maze to find him, yet something inside her slowed.

With every turn she took through the towering walls, she felt the presence of intruding eyes watching and assessing her actions.

A weight settled on her chest, and her breathing grew more rapid with every path that did not lead her to Kazaar.

Elisara withdrew a dagger from her side and attempted to carve a distinct line into each corner she turned into, marking her path should she end up circling back.

Eventually, the chill of the narrow pathways settled in her bones. If she had not been born in Vala, she might as well have given up and waited for rescue or died slowly on her own. Elisara paused and leaned back against the wall, analysing the three pathways ahead.

Why is every damn path the same? She dropped her head back against the wall, her thick braid offering some reprieve from the piercing cold. Her breath fogged, clouding her vision as she rubbed her hands together and wished she still wore her gloves.

“Star,” a voice whispered in the wind. Elisara shot forward and spun slowly, surveying the four paths: the three ahead and the one in which she had just exited.

“My star,” the voice whispered in the wind.

She recognised that voice. It was the voice of a man who tucked her into bed at night as a child and read her stories until she fell asleep, a man who defended Elisara every time her sisters poked fun at her expense.

She would never forget her father’s voice.

“Help me,” the voice whispered from the middle path. She took off in a grief-stricken run.

“Father!” she called hoarsely, choking back her tears.

There was no indecision in her turns but only an innate sense of knowing that it guided her towards her father.

“I’m coming!” she cried, following the breeze as it steered her closer.

Elisara halted abruptly in a small circular opening, panting.

Here, the ice held a sheen, creating an iridescent mirror-like effect as she stared at her reflection.

Her hair fell loose from her braid, and the sheen of sweat on her forehead had frozen over.

When Elisara raised her eyebrows, the thin layer of ice cracked off in flakes.

She hung her head and breathed in deeply.

You are imagining things. The maze is driving you mad.

Your father is dead. She raised her head and cracked her neck, waiting for her breathing to settle.

When it did, she turned and faced a nightmare she had endured far too many times.

Her hand flew to her mouth to keep in the sobs trying to escape.

With her other hand, she reached for the wall and pressed her palm against an ageing hand in the reflection adorned with familiar silver rings that had always brought her solace.

Her eyes trailed up the sleeve of a dust-covered blue jacket to the silver Vala sigil that glinted despite the little light filtering through the opening.

Elisara closed her eyes again, wishing to feel the warmth of his hand for one last time.

She delayed looking at the all-too-familiar blue in his eyes when she finally opened her own.

“Star,” the voice said, but it lacked the love and comfort her father’s tone held. This voice sounded raspy, distant— dead . Elisara opened her eyes and met his pale-blue gaze, the last thing she saw of him as she held his dead body in her arms.

“Father!” Elisara sobbed, but it became a strangled cry as his eyes hollowed, and his laughter lines faded, his skin crumbling to ash.

“You did not save me,” he croaked before his hand fell away from hers.

“You did not save any of us,” a woman sneered. Elisara spun to find the icy mirror behind her showed her sisters, Daeva and Katerina, walking hand in hand.

“I could not,” Elisara cried. “I did not know it would happen.” Elisara reached for them as if the reflection would offer more love and affection than her sisters did while alive.

“I’m disappointed in you, Elisara,” said her mother.

Elisara whirled, shivering at the plummeting temperature.

A fog crept up and around her legs. Elisara frowned at her mother’s scrutiny, who peered upon her with her hands clasped in the same regal manner as always.

She wore a red gown like those from Keres. Keres. King Razik.

“Disappointed in me ?” Elisara snarled, striding toward her mother.

“Me?” she screamed, yet the reflection merely looked her up and down.

“You planned all of this! YOU left me. You all left me!” Elisara screamed and circled back around.

The reflections multiplied, trapping and taunting her as she forgot the path in which she came.

“You knew what you were doing!” Elisara shouted.

You knew. Her chest rapidly rose and fell, and her throat tightened, yet she found no escape from their stares.

Elisara reached for her dagger again and pulled it from her side.

“You planned this! Why would you be disappointed in me?” Her sisters’ laughter bounced off the icy mirrors, and Elisara clasped the sides of her head.

“I was never meant to save you,” she whispered.

Elisara stopped spinning and lowered her hands.

She willed air into her chest to even her breathing.

The ghosts of her family stopped their taunting, and as Elisara strode to the wall, the multiple reflections disappeared until only one version of them remained: her father, mother, Davea, and Katerina stood before her, watching.

Elisara’s eyes tugged on her father’s one last time, memorising the shade of blue that was no longer her own. She raised her dagger.

“You’re not real,” she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

She plunged the dagger into the ice. She did not shield her face as the ice exploded but motioned her hand, letting the shards fly around her as light bathed her once again. The warmth brushed her face, ebbing the chill in her bones. She stared at the clearing.

The sun had risen enough now that it shone upon the icy structure in the centre of the grass-covered circle before her. Standing beside it was Vlad, who rushed towards her with wide eyes.

“Eli,” he said, grasping her arms. He frowned at the tear rolling down her cheek. She reached up and wiped it with her sleeve. “Are you okay?” he asked. She felt numb but nodded. They flinched at the sound of crashing ice behind them.

“Elisara!” Kazaar cried out before stumbling from a shattered opening on the other side of the maze.

A light rain fell over him from where he had melted the falling shards as he leaned on the tower for support.

Elisara rushed over and grasped his face, inspecting him as his hands gripped her forearms. His eyes mirrored her own before the panic in them faded.

“You’re okay,” she breathed, resting her forehead against his. He nodded and gulped.

“I saw…” he trailed off and cleared his throat. He stepped back yet his hand lingered on her back when Vlad approached.

“Good to see you’re okay.” Vlad nodded towards Kazaar, and Elisara knew by the way he awkwardly stood with his hands behind his back, shifting on his feet, that his statement was sincere; his worry had not only been for Elisara.

Elisara blinked; the light was blinding as it shone on the icy pillar before them, which formed a frozen cage adorning the same intricate patterns from earlier.

In its centre was the other half of the Vala talisman.

The transparency of the ice offered a clear view of the frozen talisman floating in the centre.

Elisara peered closer at the rough edge of stone, a clear match to the ridges on the half around her neck.

She trailed her thumb over it. Other than the broken edges, it appeared as smooth and polished as the stone on her half.

The break was clear. A half mountain was engraved at the edge, sitting below two stars.

When she connected the two halves together, it would form a complete picture: three mountains and three stars.

Elisara reached for it, sensing the same hum of power from when she first picked up the half that had never left her neck. Yet the pull to this piece was stronger, as though desperate to be reunited with its counterpart.