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forty-three

Anara

F or years I’ve waited to share my story, to have others understand what I endured during my time in Shaston — even before. I’ve been desperate, happy, made mistakes, and cried as my heart broke. I haven’t had a person I could truly confide in. Now the time is here, my fingers tremble and the words come out in whispers. Ereon’s eyes bore into mine as I retell how I made the deal to make him love me. How I used the last of my magic to ensure it.

“But why you? What is so special about those from Minasa?” It’s the Princess’ cousin who asks the questions. She sits in the tent’s corner, rubbing her swelling womb.

“He didn’t have to have me specifically, anyone from Minasa would have been sufficient. The Hasǔ — the original four beings created — equally bless and curse the Minasian people. We are descendants of Khaysus’ first toneo , Kya, before this world was made. Because of our ancestor, we are blessed with the flames in our veins but cursed with knowledge of time long ago and sometimes the prophecies of what is to pass. We eventually gain the memories from the first Minasians who walked on Ashonera, but it takes time to receive them.” I take a breath, finding my courage to speak the truth not told to those outside of my home. “When we die, our souls are restored again — over and over — in a never-ending cycle. At least for most of us.”

“You don’t die?” Rhenor asks, running his hand up and down Siphonie’s back.

“Oh, I die. I’ve died many times in fact.” A weak smile graces my lips as I think back to the many times I’ve left this world. Death never bothered me, because it is up to us when we live our final life. “It’s why we do not bear children with outsiders, so we can retain and restore the souls of our people. Outsiders’ blood can taint a returning Minasian’s soul, weakening it, and so it may take longer to receive the memories. If they receive them at all, but in the few cases in which it has happened, it was just the important memories that were recovered.

“My now-mother conceived me with someone not from Minasa, and my soul was brought back. We don’t know how the souls are chosen from one generation to the next, however, because of her decisions, I think that’s why I am here now. I think I have a bigger part in all of this than I realized. I have knowledge of the Minasians and can recall some events from my prior lives, but this existence is not the same as the ones before. I am not the same as before. My fire burns too brightly, my control is too uncertain, and my will” — I glance again to Ereon, who sits leaning forward with his forearms against his knees —“was weak enough to be put in this situation. Any other Minasian would have rather died a final death than make a deal with Khaysus’ puppet. I panicked. I was young, just regaining memories from my past lives.”

“So you knew of the prophecy?” Carnaxa asks as she shuffles around in her leathers. “You knew what would happen when I was brought here?”

I nod my head, ignoring Ereon’s eyes as he jerks his head up to look at me, like I’m a viper in his midst. “Upon the day the moon turns bright, the loyal heir’s death awakens eternal night. The waters will rise and the fires will blaze, then only the sacrificed can save,” I recite the prophecy from memory.

“I’ve heard it as long as I can remember, since the Great War. We were told the daughter of Antalis was the one who would fulfill it. I didn’t always understand what it meant. It wasn’t until I was older and remembered some of the true reasons that drove a wedge between Shaston and Antalis. I knew that to bring about what was foretold, the daughter of prophecy had to walk onto Shaston’s sands, a place never meant for the blood coursing through her veins. I won’t pretend to know everything, prophecies and memories don't work like that for me because of my mother’s choices. However, the moon was shining the day you crossed the border. I could see it from my cell. It was then I knew the mistake I had made, because it was then I knew it was beginning.”

“That’s why he needed you to use me,” Ereon states coldly. “He was worried I would leave Shaston and never return with Carnaxa. Because before you, I wouldn’t have. So he wanted me to have a reason to make sure I did whatever was needed to return with her. He used you as leverage over me. But that doesn’t explain what Atlas gains from any of this?”

“Your father loves making deals. I know he made one with Khaysus — it’s why he has the flames himself, just as I do.” I look down at my fingers, for the first time feeling ashamed to share the power. “The Princess needed to step onto the sands to wake up the magic — the madness, as you call it. Not everyone is blessed, some bloodlines are too watered down, but those who are, their powers are surfacing. Yours, for example, Princess. But besides awakening power, I know not what else he has planned.”

A wave of astonishment washes over Siphonie and Rhenor simultaneously, causing them to swiftly shift their gazes to Carnaxa. Carnaxa rubs where her bracelet was before speaking, “Why do I feel the power more intensely now?”

“The bracelets — obsidian is ground into the leather to dampen the force of magic. The bracelets can’t completely block the power if you’re strong enough; even those new to the feel of magic can still access trickles of it when emotions are high,” I respond. “Before the Great War, this was a punishment reserved for criminals to prevent them from using their magic against others. King Atlas knew this and worried that, should magic awaken, there would be those who sought to overpower him. He made sure such rebellion could not happen inside the kingdom’s borders. Every chain and bracelet, along with the armor his soldiers wear, has melded ground-up obsidian. Even the walkway to the whipping post has been sprinkled throughout with obsidian. Over the years he’s grown complacent, lacking confirmation that everyone has something to weaken potential power, and that’s why the magic has been occurring sporadically throughout Shaston.”

“Wouldn’t that also render him powerless?” Carnaxa asks, her fingers fidgeting in her lap.

“It would, except he does well to avoid anything with obsidian.”

“Then how can I take the cuffs off if he is the only one who is supposedly able?” Thylas startles me, reminding everyone that he is here as he shuffles around the room removing everyone’s bracelet.

I bite the inside of my lip. I don’t want to say it out loud, not until I know I’m right. “I don’t know. When he finds out, King Atlas will not be pleased, because he doesn’t like to lose control and right now he thinks he is the only one who can remove them.”

“Does age matter … when receiving magic?” Rhenor asks as he looks at his hands, as if wishing to feel some sort of something between his palms.

“It shouldn’ t,” I reply.

Siphonie leans down whispering something in his ear that makes him smile, before Carnaxa asks, “Then how does King Atlas know more about magic and controlling it than even us in Antalis? I grew up hearing stories from before the Great War about the magic that once flowed, but was told they were nothing more than legends.”

“Each heir from Shaston seems to hold the memories of the one before once they are crowned king. In my village we would often keep a scout inside Shaston’s borders waiting for a king who would be different, better than the last. It never happened, each child born becomes more befoul in the soul than the father.”

“My father has magic now, he did even before we left. I’m sure of it,” Ereon mentions, running his hand down his beard. “On our arrival, when I first saw him, it felt like my body was on fire. So why not just do what he wishes with what he has?”

“One’s power takes time to fully manifest after it’s been dormant for so long.” I don’t have these answers, not fully. The gods have their own set of rules when it comes to magic, and sometimes they are never explained. “Have you read the journal?” I ask Carnaxa.

She shakes her head. “Not yet, why?”

“It should contain answers, even more than I have.”

“I’ll look at it.” Carnaxa stands and turns to Ereon and Thylas. “For now, you two will tell me what is happening in Antalis and why my mother told me in a dream that my father needs me.”

Their faces blanch as they glance at each other. It’s Ereon who answers, “He’s sick with the deluc. We didn’t want to tell you in case you —” Suddenly rain begins to pour inside the tent, radiating from Carnaxa.

“He’s dying and none of you thought you should tell me!” she screams. “I need to get to Antalis. I don’t care what we are supposed to be doing here. He needs me.”

Thylas runs to her. “Naxa, calm down ...” She waves her hand and a wave of magic pushes him away. He falls to the floor in front of Rhenor, who helps him stand.

Ereon walks through the rain towards her, the water turning to ice as he does. “ Ryehro , listen to me.” He steps up to her, the shells between them glowing. The twin drop — recognizing one of them is in pain and calling to the other. “We will find a way to get you to him. Our mission here is already a waste of time, the kukhe are progressing south towards us. I’ll get you home, Princess. I planned to leave tomorrow, but right now we need you to calm down.”

His curls are bogged down and the rain turns to tiny icicles on his beard. The floor is changing from sloshing pools of water to patches of ice. I tilt my head, the ice — it’s not coming from her. I look around, wondering which of the Antalians have received such power. Someone is using it unintentionally.

Carnaxa’s tears stream down her face. “I don’t know how!” She clutches her chest, her anxiety taking control.

“It’s like breathing — just calm down and tell it what you want it to do,” I yell over the downpour .

She cuts her eyes to me. “Like breathing ...” She closes her eyes and the rain fades away before disappearing altogether. Carnaxa falls to the floor, still in tears.

Everything around us is wet, soaking us to the bones. I send a pulse of magic to the fire, first drying the logs and then relighting the flame, before I let my body heat up. I won’t be able to fully dry off everyone as I’m still suffering from the effects of the shackles being on for so long, but I’ll do what I can.

It’s then I sense another heat approaching me. Tracing the path of the sensation, I observe Thylas’ emerald eyes fixed on Carnaxa and Ereon. I can feel the ripples of magic ebbing and flowing among them. It appears as if Thylas can still see the manifestation of the twin drop, his eyes are focused on the shells adorning their skin. His temperature is rising, drying everything off around him as his growing anger radiates out in physical form. Can he see the connection between them still? He shouldn’t be able to, not without the matching ripple.

I walk to him, touching his shoulder. His body is burning. I stand on my tiptoes and whisper, “Calm yourself.” He blinks quickly and averts his gaze from Carnaxa and Ereon and looks into my eyes, as if he didn’t realize what was happening. “They don’t need to know yet, not until we find out more.”

He nods subtly and I can already sense his fading warmth.

“Let’s take tonight to sleep and we will talk again in the morning. Carnaxa …” Siphonie begins, the first to pull herself back together. “Let’s go get some dinner and try to relax. We’ve all had a long day.” She eyes Rhenor. “Come on … let’s get things prepared to l eave.” She squats beside Carnaxa and helps her stand before they take their leave.

“Was any of it real?” Ereon walks toward me, the ice in his beard melting. “Did you ever love me, or was I just a way to survive?”

I turn my face down. “Ereon, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not an answer.” He stares at me before turning to Thylas. “Take care of her.” He briefly glances at me before looking back to Thylas. “You are welcome to see Carnaxa anytime.”

Ereon turns, leaving only Thylas and me inside of the tent.

“What a mess we’ve all made,” is all he says before he casts his clothes to the side and crawls into his now dry bed. “I’m too exhausted for much more.”

I stand oddly, uncertain of what to do now that Carnaxa has regained her memories. Thylas and I were at least able to find solace in each other, but now ... I walk to the door.

“Don’t leave. I know I will always love her, but right now … I think something is wrong with me. I’m not the same — I haven’t been.”

“No, I suppose not. The anger a minute ago … How long have you been struggling with it? Do you have thoughts that you wouldn’t normally?”

He shrugs his shoulders while pulling aside the blanket on the bed and beckoning me in. “A while ... We’ll talk later. For now — let’s sleep. If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be, but I would prefer not to be alone. I … I saw my father today.”

His words catch me off guard and I realize now how difficult this whole day has been for him. If he’s been fighting his magic — his anger — he’s running on a low well of power. He needs the rest. I crawl into bed and let his warmth take me over.