Chapter Eighteen

Harrow and Malaikah followed Ouro and his men through the belly of the Underground. After dozens of disorienting turns, they headed down a narrow alley, crooked stone walls on either side. The cobblestones were so uneven, the entire lane slanted to the left.

At the end, Ouro stopped outside a tiny, unassuming door.

They entered a large sitting room of faded glory. A single lantern provided the only light, but Harrow’s eyes had adjusted, and she could see well enough. Velvet sofas were positioned around an empty stone fireplace. A crystal decanter of liquor sat on another table along the far wall, a group of glasses around it.

At the far end, an open doorway was covered by a beaded curtain. “Follow me,” Ouro said, stooping to pass through. Harrow and Malaikah followed, and the rest of the men remained behind. As soon as they went through the curtain, the men seemed to relax, and Harrow heard the murmurs of casual speech and the clinking of crystal as they poured drinks from the decanter.

Then she forgot all about that as she became aware of her surroundings.

It made no sense. She’d seen the building from outside, and there was no way what was here could fit within. Not to mention, it was the middle of the night, yet when she looked up, she saw blue sky and clouds.

In the center of the room, a spiral staircase wound upward at least four stories. High enough that it was difficult to discern what was at the top. This was obviously what Ouro had meant by “portal.” But surely it wasn’t a real portal. Perhaps the Oracle was an Enchantress and had just enchanted the stairs to appear as such?

“Shall we?” Ouro gestured to the staircase.

Malaikah eyed it warily. “Uh, after you.”

He shrugged and proceeded up the steps.

They climbed around the spirals for several minutes, finally reaching a door in the surrounding stone wall. Ouro raised a fist to knock but hesitated. “The Oracle can be a little…vague, and sometimes it’s difficult to understand her. She sees the past, present, and future all at once. Or at least I think she does.” He shrugged. “It’s confusing.”

“Like a Seer?” Harrow asked. Surely there wasn’t another…?

“She’s not a Seer.” There went that sudden hope.

With that, Ouro knocked, and the door swung open.

A male Traveler stood on the other side, one of the rare and mysterious Ether Elementals, giving Harrow her first clue as to what this Oracle might be. Harrow had never met a Traveler before in her life. Not even Salizar’s circus employed one.

Travelers generally lived in secret communities deep in the Ethereal Forest and rarely interacted with the rest of society. Their inherent Ether magic gave them the ability to teleport as easily as another might walk to move around. They were known to flit about from place to place, jumping instantaneously for even short distances, and it could be extremely disconcerting for those unused to it.

This male was willowy and graceful, with long, silver hair and tattooed skin. Bowing, he spoke with an elegant voice. “Welcome. She will see you now.”

He disappeared and reappeared instantly several feet away from where he had been, gesturing for them to enter. Mal and Harrow exchanged wide-eyed looks and stepped into another sitting room behind Ouro. It was similar to the room Harrow had visited in Darya’s castle, but instead of fountains, it was all towering windows.

Beyond the considerable book collection, a gilded harp with a stool beside it was positioned by one of the windows. Violins and other stringed instruments hung on another wall. Traces of Ether magic lingered so strongly in the air, it made the hairs rise on the back of Harrow’s neck.

The Traveler reappeared beside two sofas at the far end of the room, positioned around floor-to-ceiling windows, and motioned for them to sit with another bow. They followed Ouro’s confident stride across the room, Harrow trying hard not to stare at the beautiful Traveler.

She peeked out the window instead, and her mouth fell open. Outside was…sky. Nothing but blue sky and clouds.

Either this was home to a very powerful Enchantress indeed, or they had, in fact, passed through a portal. Into the sky.

“Good evening.”

Harrow spun around at the sound of another strange voice.

A woman stood there. Like the Traveler, her hair was silvery white, hanging straight to her waist. Her skin was a rich, earthy brown, and her stunning, pale-blue eyes seemed too large for her slender face.

She wore a long, gauzy dress with a scooped neckline. Dozens of silver bangles covered both wrists, and her ears were lined with rings to their pointed tips. Black tattoos of geometric designs covered every inch of her up to her chin.

In her hands, she held a crystal ball. The inside was full of smoke.

Harrow had never seen her before, but, as with Darya, she knew instantly who she was. This was no Traveler, nor even an Elemental.

Ouro’s introduction was unnecessary, but he gave one anyway. “Harrow, Malaikah, this is Queen Nashira of the Ether, otherwise known as the Oracle.”

The most elusive and mysterious of the five immortal Queens was right in front of them. Harrow could scarcely believe her eyes.

“We met yesterday,” Nashira said, which made no sense.

Ouro shrugged as if this was normal behavior for the Ether Queen.

“Or at least I thought we did.” Nashira cocked her head to the side. “Yesterday you were supposed to visit in the day, but you aren’t here until tomorrow night, and I’ve gotten it all mixed up now.”

“I found the Seer where you thought she’d be,” Ouro said, “but I don’t know where the wraith is. I thought we could ask her once we got her here. I didn’t want her to sneak away again.”

“Yesterday, we had more company. Tomorrow, he won’t be able to make it. It’s too late now.” Nashira looked at Harrow and Malaikah again as if just noticing them. Her eyes lit up. “Welcome, daughters of the Elements. Please, sit.” She looked at the Traveler male who had greeted them at the door. “You may be excused, Remiel. Thank you.”

“Your Majesty.” Remiel bowed low and then disappeared into thin air.

Utterly overwhelmed by everything, Harrow and Mal obediently sat on one of the sofas, and Nashira and Ouro took the one across from them.

Nashira carefully set the smoky crystal ball in her lap and studied Harrow with a sorrowful gaze. “Where is the other half of your soul, child?”

Harrow suddenly couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat.

“You had it, but you let it slip away, and it’s too late to get it back. A shame. You can’t enjoy the light without first embracing the darkness.”

“I d-don’t understand.”

“Didn’t you feel the balance? You must have felt the balance.”

Harrow was about to say she didn’t understand again, but the words got stuck because she feared she did. “I thought the darkness was evil,” she tried weakly.

“Dark is not evil. It is deep. The Deep, you call it, yes? Depth is wisdom. Depth is quietude and acceptance.” Nashira shook her head, silvery hair shimmering in the sunlight. “Where is your Deep, shallow one? Did you break the surface and get stuck in the light show? So pretty but so fleeting. And now it’s too late.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Ignoring her confusion, Nashira turned to Ouro. “We must retrieve him.”

Ouro looked at Harrow. “Where is the wraith?”

“I— He—”

“What’s going on here?” Malaikah interrupted. “You’re all talking gibberish, and somebody needs to start explaining or Harrow and I are leaving.”

“Where’s the wraith?” Ouro asked again.

“I left him behind.” Harrow’s voice was hollow. “Salizar’s got him.”

“What?” Ouro stood suddenly, causing them all to jump. Well, all except Nashira, who was gazing blankly out the window.

“I— He’s a wraith. He k-killed—”

“I know what he did.” Ouro waved an impatient hand like it meant nothing. “Where is he?”

“I left him.” Harrow wrung her hands together. Why did she suddenly feel so guilty? Raith was a killer. Her mother’s killer. “Darya told me what he is. What he did.”

Nashira swung her gaze around, suddenly lucid again. “I warned Darya that if she put too much water on the flames, she would extinguish the fire. Did she listen? Nooo.” Clearly, lucid still meant cryptic.

“Where’s the wraith, Harrow?” Ouro looked angry now.

“Darya told me Salizar was to bring him to her to be…” She swallowed. She couldn’t say it. Bile rose in her throat. “I told her where to find him.”

Malaikah jerked around on the sofa to stare at her. “You— What?”

“He’s the one, Mal.” Harrow was suddenly in a rush to justify her actions. “Darya told me. He killed them, Mal.” The tears threatened to spill again.

“Salizar told me.” Mal reached forward to clasp Harrow’s hand. “I didn’t want to believe him until I talked to you.”

“Who’s the one?” Nashira asked. “Who!”

“Raith is,” Mal said impatiently.

“No, not him. Raith is brand new. Like a child in many ways.” She winked mischievously at Harrow. “And yet decidedly not in others.”

“But he’s a wraith.” Did Nashira not understand that?

“Irrelevant! Tell Ouro where to find Dark Half, and I’ll explain, though it’s too late now.”

Confusion made Harrow’s head pound, but she was equally curious to hear what Nashira had to say. What could it hurt to direct Ouro there? “I left him behind in our room at the tavern. But Salizar was already on his way there when I left. They’re likely gone already.”

“Which tavern?” Ouro asked.

“Your tavern,” Malaikah said smugly.

Ouro scowled. “You were in my fucking tavern this whole time? And you led Salizar there? Bloody Shades.”

Nashira chuckled. “Salizar was surprised at what he will find.”

“I’ll be back,” Ouro said to her. “You’d best explain to them what’s going on.”

“Already done. We met yesterday, remember?”

“If you say so.” He gave them a nod and then swept from the room.

“Why is Ouro helping you?” Mal asked Nashira.

“Ask him.” She smiled brightly. “But he won’t tell you.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then?”

“It’s not my story to tell. But I suppose you should know. Long ago, an infant child was abandoned on—” She shook her head suddenly. “No, I changed my mind. I won’t tell you.”

Harrow wasn’t interested in Ouro’s life story or anything else except understanding what was going on. “What do you want with Raith?”

Nashira’s vivid blue eyes snapped to her. “The question is, dear, what do you want with Raith? You’ve only half a soul, after all. Don’t you feel incomplete? Haven’t you always felt incomplete?”

Yes. Goddess, yes, she had. Except for five short days in a room at a tavern that she’d been telling herself over and over were a lie.

“Who wouldn’t feel incomplete without half their soul?”

“What do you mean, half my soul?”

“You’re only one half. The light half. It’s all very nice, but it isn’t much without the dark to balance it out.”

“You’re talking about Raith.”

“Yes.” Nashira clapped her hands. “Now you’re getting it. You got it much faster yesterday. A shame it’s too late. Now you have to wait for him to come to you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harrow insisted. “If the other half of my soul is a killer, I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“We’ve been over this, Seer.” Her voice was chastising yet patient, like she was speaking to a child. “Dark Half is precious and new. I do hope you’ve been protecting him. Such a vulnerable heart.”

Harrow swallowed hard. More guilt surfaced, but she stuffed it down. “If he’s ‘new,’ as you say, then what was he before, when he was killing innocent Seers?”

Suddenly, Nashira’s entire demeanor changed. Her eyes became hard, her full mouth pressed into a flat line.

“Enslaved.”

“W-what do you mean?”

Nashira’s blue eyes grew distant once more. “He was held in forced servitude under the threat of unrelenting agony. Do you understand what that means?”

“Of course,” Harrow said, but her voice wavered slightly.

“Really? Because it doesn’t seem to me that you do.”

“I know the wraiths are bound to Furie’s will. Is that what you’re saying?”

But Nashira was looking far away again, waving her hands. The crystal ball wobbled precariously in her lap. “Did anyone ask how you felt about this, my poor doves? No. They were too quick to judge, weren’t they? Precious creatures, unloved and in the dark. I wish to see you freed from bondage.”

“This is wild,” Malaikah murmured, shaking her head as Nashira rambled on to her unseen audience.

“I think…” Harrow listened closely, comprehension dawning. “I think she’s speaking to the wraiths.”

Nashira’s gaze snapped back. She pointed a finger at Harrow. “Ding-ding!”

“You’re saying the wraiths are controlled by Furie. We know this.”

“Did they enjoy being so, do you think? Did they want to serve her? No one ever asks what they think, because they’re just mindless killers, right?”

“Wraiths are made of Furie’s magic,” Harrow insisted, “which is perverted because of her madness. They’re evil creatures. Abominations. That’s what Darya said.”

But Nashira shook her head. “Fire magic is pure. As pure as Ether, Air, Water, and Earth. Fire is Fire, and naught can render it otherwise.”

“But the wraiths…”

“Are no more evil than you are. Such silly ignorance from a child gifted with the Water. I had hoped for better. Yesterday you were far more understanding. Then again, yesterday, your soul was still complete. Today, it’s too late.”

“But they killed an entire group of Elementals,” Harrow argued, refusing to accept this so readily.

“Enchained! Enfettered!” Nashira shouted, waving her hands again. The crystal ball wobbled. “Bound by evil!”

“They’re cold. Unfeeling. They kill with deadly precision. That’s not the work of an unwilling, innocent being.”

The Ether Queen jabbed that finger in Harrow’s direction again. “Where would your mind go if you were sealed in an inescapable prison and then forced to commit unspeakable acts? Protect yourself first, everyone says. What else to do but turn off the feelings? Otherwise, the pain is too great.”

Harrow stared at her. “You’re saying they’re not evil. That they were just forced to act like it.”

“Make no mistake,” Nashira said, sounding the most lucid she had since the start of the conversation, “wraiths can be deadly, fearsome creatures. They will always be capable of violence. They will be quick to anger. They will be fierce fighters. But that is the Fire. The nature of that Element is lethal power. And, twisted by their brutal pasts, in this life and the one before, they have become even more deadly, though who could blame them after what they’ve suffered? We’re all just trying to survive. Have mercy, child. Have great mercy.”

Harrow went over her memories of Raith, remembering how he’d been confused when she’d told him he couldn’t kill Salizar. The idea was incomprehensible to him at first.

But he’d listened, in the end.

He hadn’t killed Salizar because he was willing to listen to Harrow, to learn new behaviors. He was open to change, capable of evolving, growing, understanding.

And she had turned around and betrayed him.

Her hand covered her mouth. “He killed my mother,” she said against her palm, desperate to rediscover the conviction that filled her before. “He was the one who killed my entire clan.”

“And spared your life,” Nashira added.

Harrow swallowed hard.

“A being with no free will, who’d never experienced the concept, who wasn’t even aware of its existence, discovered it the very night he chose to spare the life of an innocent child. At great cost to himself. Do you know what Furie did to him when she discovered his defiance?”

Harrow shook her head, not certain she wanted to hear.

Nashira told her anyway. “She trapped him with his own vow so he was unable to escape. Then she made him burn over and over again. It was the same death he gave the Seers, only he could never die from it. You want him to pay for the deaths of your family? Well, he has. A thousand times over.”

Harrow had started to shake. She wrapped her arms around herself.

“After several months of this, his essence was so weakened, he had become little more than a wisp of smoke. Darya struck at the perfect time. Capturing him was so easy—she all but trapped him beneath a glass as one might a spider on the wall. And what did Darya do?”

“No…” She couldn’t hear this.

“Darya, too, tortured him again and again, trying to force him to embody so she could slay him. She forced him by dousing his Fire essence in Water, extinguishing his inner flame over and over.”

“Dear Goddess,” Malaikah said.

“But the poor creature was too weak to embody, and his fiery will was unbreakable anyway. He endured the torture for nine years.”

Darya had told Harrow this same story from a very different perspective, glossing over the fact that the wraiths hadn’t acted of their own volition and convincing Harrow their Fire magic was warped. She’d been more worried about Furie consolidating power, hadn’t she? And she’d used Harrow’s emotions to manipulate her.

Nashira went on in that cold, detached voice. “After a decade, Darya decided she needed a new tactic. Then came another forty years of trial and error. Endless experimentation until she finally devised a way to merge Fire and Water in perfect harmony, creating a corporeal form for a previously incorporeal creature.”

How had Raith endured such torment without losing his mind completely? Perhaps he had, and his rebirth without memories had been his chance at a new life. Until Darya had forced him to relive his previous existence. Harrow swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat.

Suddenly, it all became clear. Deep within her, the turbulent Water that had assailed her for hours suddenly calmed to glassy stillness in accordance with her new conviction.

Go to him, it said again. Protect him.

This time, she didn’t fight it. It didn’t matter what Raith had done in the past. He’d been tortured, coerced, and tortured again… She couldn’t abandon him. How could she have betrayed him like that? He never would have done such a thing to her, no matter what crimes she’d committed.

By the Goddess, she was worse than Furie. At least Furie had avenged her lover with undying ferocity.

Harrow had stabbed hers in the back.

“What have I done?” she whispered in quiet horror.

But Nashira wasn’t finished yet. “Of all the Elements, Fire and Water are the most conflicting. Merging them in perfect balance as Darya did? An impossible feat. Yet not so, for it occurred. Even more spectacular, created in part by Water magic, he came into existence with a powerful tie to the only other Water Elemental being in this world—you.”

“H-half my soul.” That was why her power rose when she was near him. Not because she was in danger. Because the Water in her was responding to the Water in Raith, reaching out to him, strengthening them both. Together, they were stronger.

“But it goes deeper than that. The Fire and Water Elements are restless from centuries of strife. The great Goddess responded to the imbalance. Two beings of opposing natures were brought into existence in the most conflicting scenarios. Is unconditional love and acceptance not the perfect way to heal the rift?”

“We’re supposed to heal the rift? How? What do we do?”

“Oh, it’s simple. You were already doing it, in fact, until you buggered it up so royally.” Nashira shot her a glare. “Betrayal. Abandonment. Why, you’re as bad as my sisters.”

Harrow couldn’t deny it.

“I have to find him.” She suddenly didn’t care about Furie or Darya’s revenge or anything at all except Raith. In fact, she was disgusted she’d ever allowed herself to be caught up in it in the first place. She jumped to her feet, beseeching Nashira. “Please help me find him. I can’t believe— I never should have—” She swallowed hard. “Please help me.”

Nashira studied her carefully. “You have much to amend, child.”

“I know.”

“You were given a great gift, and you squandered it.”

Tears obscured her sight. “I know. I just want to make it right.”

Finally, Nashira nodded, her face softening. “If only you’d been here yesterday. This could have all been avoided. Now, it’s too late.”

“It can’t be too late. I refuse to believe that.”

Nashira stood suddenly, setting her crystal ball on the sofa and holding out a hand to Harrow. “Come. We’ll visit the tavern.”

Harrow took her hand while Nashira held out her other to Malaikah, who grasped it and stood. The Ether Queen’s blue eyes started to glow, and the air crackled until it was hard to breathe. Suddenly, they were sucked away into oblivion.

Only to reappear in Harrow and Raith’s room at the tavern.

…

“What was that?” Malaikah shrieked.

Harrow swayed on her feet, feeling a bit green. She knew Travelers could teleport, but only themselves, not others. But it made sense that Nashira, as Queen of the Ether, could—

Everything in the world ceased to matter when Harrow noticed the state of the bedroom.

The bedsheets were torn to shreds, the furniture upended or smashed completely. One window had been ripped from its frame and smashed into a thousand shards. Blood painted the walls.

Raith was gone.

Harrow swallowed her scream as the rest of the room came into focus. There were others there. Ouro was facing off with an imposingly tall male, the two staring each other down.

Salizar.

“Where is he?” Harrow shouted when she saw him, running over to grab Salizar’s arm. Ouro’s men were backing their boss, facing off with Salizar’s people—circus workers Harrow knew, though most of them were bloodied and injured.

Loren appeared at her side, a rag held against a wound on his chest. “Harrow—”

She ignored him utterly and spoke again to Salizar, finally pulling his attention from Ouro. “Where is he?”

Salizar’s eyes widened when he noticed her. He was likely wondering how she’d suddenly materialized in the middle of the room, and under normal circumstances, she would have understood his confusion. At the moment, however, it was the furthest thing from her mind.

“How did you—”

“Where is he?” Harrow repeated desperately.

But his eyes had traveled past Harrow to the woman behind her, and, if possible, they widened farther. “Who— Is that who I think it is?”

“Good afternoon, Salizar,” Nashira said, though the sky in the window behind her was pitch-black. “You’re late. Or you will be.”

“Late for what?”

The Ether Queen nodded contemplatively. “For you, yesterday was too early to understand. Today will work perfectly.”

Ouro was grinning, obviously enjoying Salizar’s bafflement. “Salizar, meet the Oracle, otherwise known as Queen Nashira.”

“Where did Dark Half get to?” Nashira asked.

Salizar looked utterly lost.

“She wants to know where the wraith is,” Ouro explained.

“He escaped.”

“He escaped?” the snake Hybrid hissed.

“Escaped to where?” Harrow asked.

“I’ve no idea,” Salizar replied. “When we arrived, he wasn’t under the influence of the dream spell as Darya assured me he would be. He attacked and then fled through the window, but not before I stabbed him with an enchanted blade. The wound won’t stop bleeding until it is cauterized with similarly enchanted steel. He’ll have no choice but to return when he realizes it.”

Harrow stifled a cry by covering her mouth.

“He’s a wraith,” Ouro said. “I doubt that’ll slow him down much.”

“He has a body that can bleed, and it will continue to do so until the enchantment is broken.”

Desperate now, she searched the room for clues. The blood everywhere horrified her. How injured had Raith been? Judging by the state of Salizar’s men, he’d given as good as he got. Her eyes caught on the little table that had somehow remained upright amid the chaos.

Her Seer cards sat atop it in a neat pile, save for one card lying faceup in front.

The Deep.

Her eyes filled with tears for the hundredth time that night. Raith had drawn it, she somehow knew. What had he felt when he pulled that card? Had he wished for Harrow’s help in deciphering it? Why had she denied him when he asked her to do a reading for him? Now, she’d give anything for that privilege. Now, she’d give anything for the chance to beg for his forgiveness. If she even deserved to have it.

A warm palm landed on her shoulder, and she turned to look into the Ether Queen’s eerie blue eyes. “It’s too late tomorrow,” she said sweetly, as if her gibberish was comforting. “Now he has to come to you.”

Oddly, it was. “How did you get us here?” Harrow asked, an idea forming.

“Ether transcends time and space. Or is it made of time and space?” She frowned. “Or was that only yesterday?”

“Do you know where Raith’s gone? Can you take me to him?”

But Nashira shook her head. “It was too late. It will be too late. Now he has to come to you.”

Will you stop saying that! Harrow inwardly screamed at her. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Dark Half has spread his wings and flown from my sight. But not yours.”

Harrow stared hard at her beautiful, strange face, desperate to understand. “How? How do I find him?”

“I’m not a Seer. No chance of that yesterday or tomorrow, or even one month ago. But you are.”

Harrow became aware that the arguing in the background had ceased. Looking behind her, she found Ouro, Malaikah, Salizar, and everyone else watching. With some difficulty, she forced herself to ignore them, turning back to Nashira. “I don’t even know where to begin searching for him.”

“Where does one go when one has nothing left to live for?”

No! she wanted to shout. Raith had so much to live for. Goddess, this was all her fault. Hers and the infernal Queens’. Darya had played the wounded victim, trying to justify the awful things she’d done, and Harrow had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

Well, no more. From now on, she would listen to no one but herself and her own Goddess-given instincts.

Shaking her head to clear the anger, she swore she would make this right. She would start by finding Raith.

“He went after Furie,” Malaikah said.

They all looked at her. “How do you know?”

“Think about it. He loves Harrow. Then he finds out he’s the one who killed her family and she’s left him. If he’s like Nashira described, he’s going to feel awful. He’ll want to avenge Harrow, but he’s also not the type to lie down and surrender. He’ll want to go out with a bang. I bet he figures if he can take Furie with him, then it’s a job well done.”

“Yesterday you were wrong!” Nashira exclaimed. “Today, you make sense. Tomorrow remains to be seen.”

“She’ll kill him,” Harrow whispered in horror.

“Yes,” Nashira agreed, though it hadn’t been a statement of which she particularly wanted confirmation. “Today, tomorrow, or a hundred years ago, Furie will defeat him if he confronts her. It’s definitely too late now.”