Page 47 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

Elisara

E lisara’s eyes snapped open when darkness claimed Hamzah in her dream.

Threads of shadows twitched at her side, recognising she was awake and staring at the wall.

As they moved to comfort her, tears fell from her eyes at yet another memory of loss.

Tormented, yet again. Her eyes trailed to her arm stretched across the pillow.

Beneath the scarred vines wrapping around her forearm was a raised, flaming dagger.

A lump rose in Elisara’s throat. Now she would never know what happened before Kazaar found that scar on his skin.

Elisara’s mind recalled the dagger Hamzah used to take his own life and frowned.

Kazaar’s scars had emerged when using a new power, while Elisara’s emerged after these dreams. She had no answers.

The ink on Kazaar’s scars had been beautiful.

On Elisara, the scars made her look even more broken, mirroring her internal state.

“Can you recall the memories?” Sallos asked. Elisara closed her eyes and sighed. She was not yet awake.

“No,” she lied, staring at the wall again. She did not want to relive the pain of someone’s loss, nor did she trust Sallos.

“You are still mad at me,” Sallos said. Elisara blinked, ignoring him.

“I apologise, your Majesty. It was too soon to mention Sitara’s plight.

” One moment, Elisara lay limp on the bed; the next, darkness consumed her, bringing her before Sallos.

The shadows fell away, except for those shielding Elisara’s naked body as she stood toe-to-toe with Sallos, looking up at him.

He was at least two heads taller, and she felt far less like a queen in his presence.

Sallos’s throat bobbed as he glanced down at the queen before staring over her head.

“I will gut you if you so much as mention her name again,” Elisara sneered.

“I want nothing to do with her plight, her broken heart, or searching for her other half. It does not affect me or my people—” Sallos opened his mouth yet closed it at Elisara’s glare.

Having abandoned her people to be here, she doubted they were pleased with her.

Perhaps she should try to send a message to Vlad, relinquishing her throne to him.

Elisara turned from Sallos and strode towards the bed.

“I have some clothes for you,” Sallos finally said.

Elisara turned her head enough to see the fabrics on the chair by the desk.

“I didn’t wash the ones you were wearing; they’re in the chest at the end of the bed.

” When Sallos clasped his hands behind his back, Elisara almost felt bad.

The wrinkles in his eyes were flat, and his expression serious; his regret bled between them.

Elisara winced as she walked towards the chair, threads of darkness tugging at her skin.

“I can teach you,” Sallos said. Elisara reached for the clothes and erected a wall of shadows between them.

“Teach me what?” she asked, unfolding the material of deep glittering bronze. Where had he managed to find this? Elisara draped the gown over her head as Sallos explained.

“I once knew people with the same power as you. I can teach you to wield the darkness and pull it back into yourself when it is unrequired.” Elisara straightened the gown, untangling the pieces of fabric that flowed over her shoulder, hanging loosely over her arms like capes.

The fabric glowed copper and bronze as it caught the light of the flames.

It was fitted to her chest, leaving a small gap between the top of her bust and the hollow on her neck before the fabric enveloped her neck.

It provided the perfect gap to display her talismans.

“I know having to control it constantly is tiring you,” Sallos whispered.

Elisara sighed while smoothing the flowing fabric of her skirts.

He was right. Every tug of the shadows exhausted her further.

Willing the wall of shadows to fall, Elisara faced Sallos, who rocked back on his heels, watching her in silence.

She felt uncomfortable dressed as a queen again. “You look—”

“What would helping me look like?” Elisara cut him off and perched on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed.

“We would need some space,” Sallos said, gesturing towards the throne room. “We need to focus on what is blocking your mental space. Silent meditation would work—”

“No.”

“It is a simple exercise—”

“No.” Elisara winced at the memories of Kazaar—the moments they meditated before the war, trying to unlock any additional power. Sallos averted his eyes, and Elisara knew he felt her grief. “Find another way.”

“There are not many other ways I can think of, your Majesty. You can control the shadows perfectly fine in all other ways. I only assume the inability to withdraw them is linked to your mind, wishing them to remain present.”

“I cannot,” Elisara said quietly but firmly. Sallos ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“You need to.”

“Why?”

“Because your inability to recall your own power is affecting your ability to control us,” Sallos said, taking a cautious step closer. Elisara assessed him and straightened.

“My ability to control you all is fine. I did so just before I bathed.” She raised her chin in defiance as Sallos crouched, meeting her eyes.

Elisara tried not to recoil as she forced herself to meet his gaze like a queen.

Yet when he approached in a way that spoke of comfort and kindness, she felt unworthy. She had failed.

“Those of us you control feel the tug of your commands and obey willingly—currently.” Sallos softened his voice.

“There are others in this sword for a reason; since the battle, they can easily ignore that tug, particularly when you order us away. They will claim they obeyed yet will act against your will. When you sleep, and sometimes when you awake briefly at night, there are soldiers slipping from your control. Some have travelled to the realms and stalked not just Vala’s people, but the others too.

” Elisara scanned his eyes, looking for signs he was lying.

Though she would feel his betrayal if he was. Why would they venture to other realms?

“Have they hurt anyone?” she murmured. Despite its absence, the weight of the crown felt heavy on her head, though it remained alongside her other possessions in the Ashun Desert. Sallos shook his head, and his hand twitched, like he wished to reach forward and offer comfort.

“They have hurt people in Garridon, but the king intervened. You have slept so much you have missed the return of the slain soldiers.” Sallos lifted the corner of his lips slightly in a soft, sad smile before asking, “What would Kazaar tell you to do?” Elisara looked down at her hands; her chest constricted upon hearing his name aloud.

“Think about it.” Sallos rose and backed away to his station in front of the hallway.

“But you will need to try channel in your waking body.” Slowly, Elisara nodded before sliding down the edge of the bed onto the floor.

She pulled her knees up under her chin and waited for herself to wake.

***

Pink skies shone through the opening at the top of the mountain.

Elisara debated going outside; the fresh air and calming sky would likely help with meditating, but she was not yet ready to face the world.

Instead, Elisara sat directly under that small opening of light.

The laws of dreams seemed not to apply as she sat in the same deep bronze dress Sallos had given her.

She wanted to wear Kazaar’s shirt, but knew it was too dirty now.

She resorted to placing it on her pillow at night, so it was the last thing she saw before sleeping and the first thing when she woke.

She twisted her hand around the leather on her neck, where Sitara’s talisman—once his—pressed against her chest. It hummed in her hand, the threads of silvery light twisting amongst the whirling shadows within.

Elisara grazed the tiny chip in the back—the missing part she knew was somewhere in her arm beneath the raised scars decorating her skin.

What would Kazaar tell you to do? Sallos’s question rang through her mind as she stared at the deep crack in the chequered floor, where the creature had landed during their first visit.

Who knew such a simple question could focus her mind?

Kazaar would say she was better than this and stronger than her heartbreak.

Although she would not believe him, that is what he would say.

Elisara smiled, recalling the moment Kazaar had ignited a flicker of flame within her.

His memory would centre her again, even for the selfish act of lightening her aches.

A part of her mind warned that no matter how much she feigned indifference, she yearned to regain control over the soldiers—the one thing she could protect her people from.

Finally, Elisara raised her head and looked up at the mirror, now propped against what had once been a tomb of ice, long since melted.

Depictions of the elements were etched on the gold frame, along with the sun and moon at its crown.

It was difficult to focus on the reflection and not the engraved words of the prophecy on the glass.

In the aftermath of everything that happened, the prophecy had always been about her.

Elisara straightened, ignoring the words.

She glanced briefly at Sallos, who stood to the side of the mirror that reached up to his shoulders.

His shadowed form raised a hand to his chest, exaggerating the motion of inhaling.

Elisara nodded and returned her focus to her reflection.

Her loose curls, frizzy from sleeping on it wet, hung behind her back, while the shadows under her eyes matched the darkness twisting on the floor.

Were she in better health, the deep bronze dress would have complimented her hair and skin, both of which now paled in the darkness.

In some lights, it almost looked like armour, a similar tone to the copper army, but darker.

Elisara clenched her jaw at the returning memory of battle and took a deep breath.

She exhaled, closing her eyes. Find the source of your power , Kazaar had once said.

But how could she, knowing it stemmed from a piece of stone in her left arm, wrapped in Sitara’s essence?

When Elisara focused on her arm, the shadows approached, twisting up her elbows.

She felt the darkness in her skin, the link to the sword.

Perhaps she should just cut it out, hide the talisman, and end the connection to the shadowed army.

Sallos flinched at her thought. The darkness continued, twisting up Elisara’s arms and around her chest until the pressure was suffocating.

She furrowed her brows, thinking of the dark fragment in her arm, but that flicker of Sitara’s essence around it felt absent, as though it had spent so many years drifting through her it no longer had a tethered home.

Elisara clenched her hands as the threads of power crawled across her skin, trying to offer comfort but achieving the opposite.

“Leave me alone,” Elisara murmured, picturing Kazaar’s face.

His memory had ignited that flame before—she could do it again.

But Elisara stilled when she thought of him.

One day, she would forget the details of his face, the positioning of his stubble, and the changing shades of his eyes.

A tear rolled down Elisara’s cheek, and a shadow wiped it away.

“Stop,” she whispered, but sensing her sadness only drew them closer.

Kazaar was gone because of this power, because Sitara decided Elisara was the perfect vessel to host both the essence and link to the sword.

But why her? The shadows cried along with their queen, skating over her skin like a gentle caress.

If Elisara had not harboured the essence, Caligh would not have come looking for them.

He would not have killed Kazaar. “It’s my fault,” she choked.

She sensed Sallos step towards her, but she pushed him back and commanded him against the wall with the others.

She cried, sagging under the weight of her powers.

Still, the shadows ignored her pleas and continued twisting and stroking her hair.

“STOP!” Elisara screamed. When she opened her eyes, her irises were black, consumed by anger in the mirror.

She wanted them out, wanted them gone. Given the chance, she would rip the power from her body for their role in Kazaar’s death.

Elisara panted, watching her reflection.

The shadows paused, wondering if her threat was true.

Elisara screamed, and with a single, forceful thought, commanded a strip of darkness to lash the flesh along her back, cutting open her skin, and hopefully ripping the power out with it.