Page 57 of Return of the Darkness (The Lost Kingdom Saga #3)

Sadira

S oft petals grazed Sadira’s fingers as she opened her eyes, finding herself cross-legged in a patch of petunias.

Plucking one gently from the ground, she brought the flower to her eyeline, turning it in different directions to determine what colour it had been.

It was definitely a pale colour, but it was tinged with a sad brown, like the rest of the field.

Only now, noting the contrast of her pale pink dress amongst the sepia-shaded fields, Sadira realised how much she valued colour.

She raised her head, realising it was not just the flowers drained of vibrancy; the small town opposite appeared the same way.

Seley was a melding of stone and thatched houses.

While she had only visited once during her travel back from her first ball in Nerida, she easily remembered the strange blend of the two realms, with its bright white walls and pale sandstone.

Sadira turned her head to scan the fields behind her and the Hybrooke Forest on the other side, but she could not see her husband.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she turned in the flowers, her pulse quickening.

A pale figure mirrored her position. Sadira would have jumped were it not for the deep smile lines and wrinkles around her once bright green eyes. Sadira blinked back tears.

“Hello child,” said her grandmother, reaching towards her.

“Am I…” Sadira began to panic, but her grandmother shook her head and offered reassurance.

“You’re not dead,” Lyra reassured. Sadira had so many questions but was too overwhelmed by the opportunity to see her family.

“I miss you,” Sadira breathed, a tear rolling down her cheek. Lyra tilted her head as her own eyes watered, assessing her granddaughter .

“You’re thriving, Sadira,” Lyra said, glancing at the golden band on her finger with a gentle smile. “Does he make you happy? I see glimpses of the two of you—a perk of being here—but I wish to know what is in your heart.” Lyra rested her hand on Sadira’s chest.

“Very. I am very happy,” Sadira choked.

“In my lifetime, I have been gifted and cursed with many prophecies and fortunes. When I saw you with him and watched your wedding, you were so young. It didn’t happen exactly as I had foreseen as prophecies and visions are open to interpretation, but it was the happiest I have ever been at a vision,” Lyra said, her voice cracking.

In this version of Novisia, Sadira’s grandmother seemed peaceful.

Sadira had always felt loved by her family, but a tainted aura marred her grandmother on Doltas—sadness after losing so much.

Yet here, her grandmother seemed truly happy and at peace; only one person would make her feel that way.

“Is Errard here?” Sadira asked.

“He was.” Although Lyra smiled, Sadira saddened at the past tense, knowing their time was yet again cut short, leaving her here.

“We’re fortunate our god has such measures in place to allow those of us with unfinished business to reside here.

The only thing your grandfather was waiting for was me.

” Sadira’s heart clenched, thinking about her parents.

“Your parents knew they had fulfilled everything required of them. As much as they loved you, they were at peace with their decisions and what was asked of them.” Lyra squeezed Sadira’s hands.

“Errard passed on recently. Time moves differently here, and so I have no concept of how long ago that was, but we had the time we needed. I was only waiting here for you.” A tear fell down Lyra’s cheek while gazing at her granddaughter.

“And then it will be my time to part.” Sadira was overwhelmed by emotions as she waited for her grandmother to continue.

She was both grateful for their time together, but also disappointed.

Why had her parents not wished to wait to see her?

It prompted Sadira to question whether she would pass on or linger in this place with unfinished business.

“You need to learn forgiveness, Sadira,” Lyra said. Sadira frowned; she considered herself a forgiving person, always prioritising the feelings of others before her own. “Your sister.” Sadira looked away, unwilling to confront her conflicting feelings about Soren. “She did not choose this path.”

“She may not have chosen it, but she did not fight it, either. She did everything he asked.” Sadira picked at the flower petals, knowing deep down that was untrue.

Having read Jorah’s journals, she understood what Caligh had done, latching his dark claws into Soren’s mind to command her.

Yet even they had broken through his control at points.

“Did you know Jorah allowed you to escape?” Sadira asked, and Lyra nodded.

“I did. He was waiting here too. It was part of his unfinished business to set things right with Errard and I.” Slowly, Sadira nodded and clenched her hands.

“Wren remembered Caellum’s name to ensure he was the one who survived,” Sadira continued, and her grandmother sighed, as though sensing the direction of Sadira’s thoughts.

“Soren did not remember or break through once. Maybe she does not care about me as much as the others Caligh poisoned.” Lyra moved her hand over Sadira’s, stopping her from plucking the flower petals.

She obliged and met her grandmother’s eyes.

“Child, everything Soren ever did was for you.” Lyra gave a pained yet honest smile. “Knowing what you have endured, I understand it’s difficult to process your thoughts and emotions, but Soren is experiencing far worse.” Sadira slumped at her grandmother’s words.

“Nyzaia told me how unstable she has been,” she said.

“There were moments when she was her usual stubborn and hateful self, focusing only on her history with Caligh, but—” Sadira hesitated.

“She said Soren seemed like a different person at other moments. I know that person is likely the Soren I once knew.” Sadira sniffed.

“But I lost her to him so long ago. How am I ever to believe she can truly be free of whatever plagues her mind? How can I allow her around my husband or my future children, knowing there is a part lingering inside of her that wishes Caellum dead?” Sadira wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

“I cannot risk that; I cannot risk my husband, my king.” Sadira tried to calm her breathing.

The idea of losing Caellum and being utterly alone fuelled a rising panic in her chest.

“Your feelings are valid, Sadira,” Lyra said, straightening.

Sadira followed suit, standing a head taller than Lyra.

“But you can take precautions while still helping Soren to recover. She is your sister, and she needs you.” Lyra rested a hand on Sadira’s cheek.

“It is my time,” Lyra whispered, peering at something over Sadira’s shoulder.

The Queen of Garridon turned to look at a head of blonde braids stumbling out of Hybrooke Forest.

“I—” Sadira turned back to find Lyra had vanished. She let out a sad and frustrated sigh. She had so much to ask about the Wiccan, the pins, Athena, and their friendship. Now, her chance was gone. Her grandmother was gone.

The sun in the tinged sky shone down on Sadira as she turned to face her sister, stumbling through the field in her direction. Sadira was uncertain whether she had seen her yet. With a deep breath, Sadira yelled, “Soren!”

Her sister stilled in the field and straightened at Sadira’s voice.

The pair walked towards one another. From afar, they appeared as two sides of a coin striding toward one another.

On one side was a queen in pink, the embodiment of beauty and life, and on the other was a broken woman, her green shirt stark against the sepia-painted backdrop.

Her hand rested on the empty sheath where her sword once was, twitching—a soldier, once destined to be a protector.

Sadira carefully watched Soren, searching for a tell she was not in the right mind. Only bright green eyes stared back at her, glistening with tears.

“Sadira, I-” Soren stopped as they met one another, with Sadira maintaining a distance between them.

Sadira waited as Soren bowed her head, silent.

Sadira said nothing. She refused to break the silence while uncertain of Soren’s state of mind.

“I’m sorry” was all Soren said, but when she raised her head, her features had changed.

She clenched her jaw and blinked rapidly before beginning to pace, groaning and shaking her hands.

She cracked her neck and kept walking, looking at the sky.

“No, I don’t,” Soren said to no one. “I don’t want to! ”

While Soren’s attention was elsewhere, Sadira stepped back to widen the distance. She wanted to reassure her it would be okay and keep her focused, but she was frightened of getting too close. She feared her own sister. Perhaps I am a coward.

Sadira frowned. She wanted to ask Soren if she was okay but did not dare risk being too close.

“Can I do anything?” Sadira finally asked, softening her tone. Soren spun and narrowed her eyes.

“You’ve done enough,” she spat. Sadira clenched her jaw and squeezed her hands before her stomach, trying to summon her power.

It ignored her. “If you had just let me do what was asked of me—if you had let me kill him—then I wouldn’t be here!

I would be far away with Caligh,” Soren complained, pacing through the field.

Sadira tried to control her anger, not responding to her sister’s betrayal. Soren scoffed.

“I need to walk to the Neutral City; it is the most likely place the others will think to find one another,” Sadira said, though she did not turn to walk towards the city. She realised then—everything here was reversed.

“Others,” sneered Soren. “What others could you possibly need?”

“I need to find Caellum. I need to speak with Elisara, Larelle, and Nyzaia.” At that, Soren paused and tilted her head, focusing on something unknown to Sadira.

She slumped and unclenched her hands, which hung loosely at her sides.

When she turned to face Sadira again, she appeared exhausted, her eyes drooping and lips down-turned.

A pang of sympathy struck Sadira then, although Soren’s hateful words overshadowed any feelings of forgiveness. She did not want to be alone with her.

“I will escort you,” Soren whispered.

“In silence,” Sadira said. “I have nothing to say to you.”