CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Without sorrow, grief would be a passing
stain. An old scar with no power to cause
pain. But sorrow’s companion is
misery. Its company is damaging,
and woe is she who lets it settle and stay.
—THE HARMONY OF BEING
Darvyn wasn’t sure if he should touch Kyara or not. She lay crumpled on the ground, hands entwined with Tana’s. If they were somehow working Nethersong in this state, then he knew he couldn’t interfere—Kyara was one of the only people in this world who could do him real damage with her abilities. But seeing her motionless on the ground like that made him uneasy.
And so he waited. It seemed that the battle was at a stalemate for the moment. Aside from the attack on Mooriah, the True Father had yet to give a command to his amassed troops. He must still be locked in verbal warfare with his sister, the way they’d been when Darvyn had left them at the port.
Kyara had only been down for a moment before she stirred, and Darvyn’s heart began beating again. She rose, looking up at him. Her gaze was somehow different. Something new was there—something more purposeful than he’d seen in her for a long while.
She appeared shell-shocked, but stood on stable legs. Tana, however, remained on the ground, unconscious. Kyara frowned down at the girl, a look of regret overtaking her. Then she firmed her jaw and faced the wraiths, who were still in a holding pattern. But not for long.
A dark spot in the sky grew in size as it drew closer. Darvyn’s mouth dried as he saw the True Father approaching, flying through the air. Had he already taken Oola’s or Jasminda’s Songs? Guilt assailed him, he shouldn’t have left, but he’d had to get to Kyara.
The True Father hovered, looking smug as he observed his army. He had every right to be, there was only Darvyn, whose Song had no effect on these new kind of wraiths, Kyara, and a dozen Raunians against thousands of the dead.
“The time has come.” The floating man’s voice echoed over the cemetery. “I will end this war once and for all. Leave no survivors but the Singers.”
A screeching sound rang out and the wraiths lost their vacant expressions and snapped to attention. Darvyn clenched his fists. He’d been a soldier practically his whole life, fighting uphill the entire time and he would fight for as long as he could.
But Kyara caught his eye and shook her head slightly, the start of a sad smile on her lips. He frowned. “Embrace the Light,” she whispered.
Overhead, the portal, dark and ominous, suddenly cleared of the spirits that were still pouring forth. The shimmering, dark tear in their world was pierced by a bright light.
Blinding and beautiful, it speared his retinas so that Darvyn could barely make out what was happening. But the solid beam began to quickly splinter into pieces. Arcs, like the Earthsong lightning Yllis had taught them to create, shot out of this new light and down toward the ground of the cemetery.
It was as though the sky had opened up and the darts of light rained down, just as the spirits had moments before. But there was much, much more light than there had been darkness.
Each ray hit a wraith and when it made contact, tiny explosions of light completely erased Darvyn’s vision. He shut his eyes. Behind his lids the radiance intensified. It was like staring at the sun at noon. Brightness creeped into the corners of his eyes and he covered them with his hands to keep it out. Still it burned, not true pain, just an uncomfortable sensation that left him feeling buzzy. He winced, ducking his head into his elbow to avoid it.
And then it was done.
He actually felt the force retreat and blinked his eyes open, waiting for the afterburn to dissipate so that he could see again. What he finally saw made his jaw drop.
No wraiths. No spirits. The afternoon was gray again, the normal mundane clouds were pregnant with real rain. The cemetery was littered with corpses. Some recognizable as people, newly deceased. Some mere skeletons, with wisps of hair sticking to their skulls.
They had fallen where they’d stood; bones and decaying flesh stretching out as far as the eye could see.
Overhead, the portal was still there, a hole torn in the sky, but nothing emerged from it. Silently, it held the potential for doom, but for now remained empty. The True Father was nowhere to be seen.
Kyara stood beside Darvyn, gripping his hand in her own. He wrapped her in an embrace, squeezing her tight to him. He wasn’t certain if it was relief he felt or more apprehension. But he forced himself into this present moment. Pulled himself back from Kyara to look at her face.
Her breathing was rapid, she had yet to come down from the adrenaline of battle—of whatever she’d just been through. But she held him tight and brushed her lips against his.
They kissed, grateful to be alive. While the hole in the sky looked down on them.
The ferocity of the wraiths that the True Father had unleashed upon the Earthsingers was even greater than before. Jasminda spun out of the way as a chunk from a ship hurled toward her.
The group of Raunian fighters engaged in hand-to-hand combat, forming a protective circle around Jasminda, Oola, and Yllis, but swarms of wraiths slipped through. The Raunians were quickly overwhelmed and began to fall, one by one.
Jasminda worked on healing them, in between fending off the volley of attacks, but splitting her focus was dangerous. Even with the massive power boost from the obelisk, pinpointing the Earthsong attacks so as not to hit one of their allies was difficult. As soon as she cast a wraith away from her, two more took its place. Her attention was drawn everywhere at once just to maintain her position, much less make any headway.
She gasped for breath and deflected a bombardment of wickedly sharp iron fence posts, when a sudden brightness in the sky stole her focus. Darts of light flooded her vision; she squeezed her eyes shut when it became too painful to keep them open. She couldn’t say how long it lasted, but when the light receded and she opened her eyes, the wraiths were gone.
Dozens of bodies lay littered across the ground, transformed back into their original hosts. Mostly Elsirans, but some foreign-born residents of Portside had been caught by the spirits. Almost all were alive, but badly injured.
After another nervous glance at the sky, Jasminda hurried forward to heal them. Broken bones and internal injuries took up the most of the cases. She worked quickly, trying to get each person past the critical stage, knowing there would be others who could take the victims the rest of the way. An Elsiran woman had a severe head injury that was worrisome. Jasminda took an extra minute to ensure there wasn’t further damage she’d missed, when a groaning man stole her attention.
He rolled over onto his back and Jasminda stumbled. Zann Biddell lay there, bleeding from his nose and mouth. She finished her work on the woman and moved to him. Crouching down, she assessed his damage. His eyelids fluttered before opening.
“Master Biddel, can you hear me?”
He moaned and held a hand up to his head.
“Be still, I’m going to see to your head.”
“No.” He batted her away. “Don’t want any of your … witchcraft.”
Jasminda sighed. “Very well then, there are others I can help.” Annoyingly, Oola was not seeing to the other victims, instead She was staring up at the dark portal still hanging in the sky like a reverse moon.
“I will die … true to my principles,” Zann Biddell said, breath rasping. “My people will know … that I was not moved.”
Jasminda stood, her legs wobbly. “You will die a fool. And your people will not know anything. You think I will make you a martyr?” She shook her head and moved on to the next person needing aid.
“Tell them,” Biddell wailed, his voice growing thin. He coughed blood and his body shuddered. “Tell them … please.”
But Jasminda had already moved on.
After she’d seen to the worst cases, she stalked over to Oola. “Thank you for helping.” Her sarcasm was lost on the woman, who hadn’t yet stopped staring at the portal. “What do you think happened? With that light?”
“I do not know,” She said, and launched into the air.
“Wait!” Jasminda cried.
There was another dark figure in the sky, heading north, and Oola followed it up the coastline. As Jasminda watched the Goddess disappear, Yllis stepped up beside her.
“You should go after Her. This is not over yet.” His expression was contemplative, but worry settled in around his eyes. “There are Singers nearby who will help the rest.”
Jasminda nodded and reached for the obelisk’s power. Mastering the flying spell had never been on the top of her to-do list, but now with the additional focusing properties, she found it easier. Controlling the air currents to lift her into the air took concentration. She wobbled a bit as she rose one pace then two into the air. Quickly though, the freedom from gravity became liberating.
She moved slowly at first, testing herself before darting forward more quickly. “I understand why She likes it so much,” she muttered.
Oola had flown north then west, headed toward the ocean. Jasminda went after Her, both chasing the initial figure who suddenly dropped from the sky like a missile. Oola dove for it with Jasminda steadily gaining speed behind Her.
The Goddess must have used Earthsong to catch the projectile before it hit the ground. The figure’s descent slowed and it floated down to the beach on a cushion of air. As Jasminda reduced speed and grew closer to the ground she recognized the unconscious form of the True Father.
His face was placid, free of the anger and hatred and pain Jasminda had witnessed from him before. Her own landing left something to be desired. She sprawled in the sand, her knees and palms smarting, before righting herself and approaching Oola and Eero.
“What happened to him?”
Oola crouched next to Her brother. “He used up all the Songs he stole.”
Eero’s chest rose with his breath, and he roused. Jasminda readied herself for an attack. But the man simply opened his amber eyes to stare up at his twin sister.
“Have I done it? Have I won?” His voice was different, the signature rasp wasn’t present. He almost sounded like a normal man.
Oola shook Her head. “No, Eero. You haven’t.” She stroked his wild hair away from his face, which was gaunt and drawn. Freckles peppered his skin, and deep lines framed his eyes.
A soft thud sounded just behind her and Darvyn was there with Kyara in his arms. He set her on her feet and the three of them peered down on the pathetic creature lying on the sand.
“What’s happened?” Kyara asked.
“His power is drained.” Jasminda loosened the grip of the knife she didn’t remember palming. “The wraiths at the cemetery?”
“Gone.” Kyara’s voice cracked. “We had some unexpected help, but all the wraiths are gone everywhere.”
Jasminda breathed deeply, though true relief was elusive. Eero still had the ability to steal his sister’s Song. He needed to be watched closely since Oola’s mindset was still uncertain where Her brother was concerned.
But Eero’s hands were empty and tears filled his eyes. Jasminda was unmoved, but Oola cried with him. She leaned in to kiss his forehead and then stood, backing away.
“I love you, brother. Always remember that. And I will see you again in the next world.” Then She spun around and walked off down the beach, turning Her back on them.
“What is She doing?” Jasminda asked.
Darvyn pursed his lips. “Coward,” he said under his breath.
Realization dawned. She was leaving Eero’s fate to them. A sharp pain blossomed in Jasminda’s chest. “Could you kill your own brother?”
Darvyn’s jaw was tense. “If it needed to be done? Yes.”
Kyara placed a hand on his arm. “You may think that now, but don’t be so sure. I once asked you to kill me to save others. Could you have done that?”
Pain shone in his eyes as he stared at Kyara. He dropped his head, shoulders slumping.
Jasminda turned back to the prone man. His eyes were vacant, staring up at the sky, not seeing or not caring, she had no idea.
“I’ll do it,” she said, the knife in her hand shaking. She had killed before, though not someone who appeared so helpless. She shook that thought off. She couldn’t allow herself to be taken in by appearances. There could be no trial, no imprisonment—Eero was too dangerous. He’d proven it again and again. All he needed was a drop of blood to wreak havoc.
Her Song prodded at her, the life energy swirling in her veins funneled by the obelisk shuddered at the possibility of murder. But she was the queen, for better or worse. And she could not shy away from doing what was right for her people.
“No, I’ll do it,” Darvyn said. His fists were gripped tight. He looked just as torn as she was but also determined. He had suffered at Eero’s hand as much as anyone had.
“It’s already done,” Kyara whispered, her voice laced with misery. Her eyes were closed and a single tear slipped down her cheek.
“You said you never wanted to kill again.” Darvyn was visibly holding himself back from reaching for her.
“I know. But it is what I was made to do.”
Jasminda felt for the man’s life energy, felt it peter out until it was no more.
His eyes remained open, staring at the hole in the sky. The whites filled with black and he saw no more.
Kyara lifted her head to the clouds, breathing deeply. Darvyn watched her carefully, broadcasting his pain and worry and care. He was strung so tight he might burst.
Jasminda looked into the distance at the figure retreating up the beach, leaving them all behind.