XIII

The singing bells of the tower cried the hour of gloaming as Lyra approached the temple, and her boots echoed on the floral-painted mosaics leading up to the clover-shaped arches. The dulcet melodies of the choral hymnals both soothed and chilled her, like receiving an embrace from someone who had come in from the cold.

She knelt down in deference before the altar of Oqyanus, god of the ocean and the abyss. The carved effigy displaying his likeness radiated tender warmth and benevolence as Lyra set down tributes of sunflower bread, dandelion wine, and flowers to aid her relatives in the Astral Realm.

Her fingers tentatively encircled the jade leaf–shaped handle of the dagger on her thigh. A gift from Léandre on her birthday. Or perhaps it had been a gift for the Fête. The complete tale eluded her now. She decided against parting with it, for even the living required tribute from the dead to aid them through their realm, and slowly she rose to her feet.

The burial grounds were a long, untamed sprawl of trees carefully maintained by the groundskeepers. Lyra had always found a soft comfort in that, in the thought that in the event of her death her body might be used to nurture something else to life. Most graves were distinguished by a brass plaque and she found his gently laid with sunflowers. The blossoms seemed to be a recent addition and Lyra couldn’t help but wonder from whom.

Here Lies Léandre de Lis, read the inscription. She pressed her back against the trunk of his tree and slid down between the roots. She was tired of losing people to monsters. Ever since the death of her mother, she had dedicated herself to the cause of ridding the world of their scourge. And yet, they continued to fester. Seemingly stronger than ever before. Leaving the bodies of good sprites strewn in their wake.

“I know you’ll be upset with me for saying this,” Lyra said towards the tree, smiling bitterly, “but ever since I learned that Dominus was alive, I just… can’t stop thinking how pointless it all was. Everything you did.” She cupped her face in her hands and dragged them down. “You told me you gave up your life so I wouldn’t have to keep fighting them anymore, and yet… here I am.” She closed her eyes, inhaling shakily. “And I am so tired.”

Her search for Dominus had been endless since the massacre in the Parvani Rainforest. Still, she felt no closer to having caught him than she did the moment she’d been given the mission. All her leads on the clinics had run dry, and the occasso seemed to be taunting her with the latest body they’d uncovered with a skeleton shaped like a star. It was as though he were planning something and taunting her with mere hints to solve his riddle before it was complete.

“I just wish you were here to give me some advice.” She touched two fingers to her lips, pressing them tenderly to the trunk, then she lay down on the grass and allowed his branches to offer her shelter. Above her, the sun sank westward to rest its weary head upon the horizon, the last dregs of light squeezing through the spaces in the leaves to dapple her face in flecks of gold.

When she opened her eyes again she realised that she must have slept, for the sky had become a rich blue velvet to signal the coming of night. She rose up from the makeshift pillow she’d made from her arms to find her compact mirror was buzzing in her pocket.

After she rubbed her eyes with a sleepy groan she answered it and saw the face of Madhali Azar. “I hope I didn’t disturb your rest, Ser de Lis.”

“Not at all.” Lyra was already alert. “What is it?”

“I was able to get one of the cursesmiths to talk about the decoction you found. It’s an old recipe from the grimoire that was lost ten years ago during the Chamber of Chaos burglary.”

“Calante’s grimoire?” Lyra asked. “The grimoire?”

“The very same.” Madhali nodded. “That’s not all. The decoction is meant to be a… how shall I put this? It’s a serum of sorts. Rather like the purges we use against those infected with chaos magic. But in reverse.”

“So you’re telling me Dominus is trying to inoculate himself. Against… aether?” Her mind scanned for an explanation, finding none. “Why?”

“My theory is it might have something to do with the fact that he is, seemingly, back from the dead.”

“If you mean to imply someone with aether resurrected him, well… that makes even less sense.” Lyra pressed her thumb against her lips in thought. The pieces of the puzzle were there before her, waiting to be assembled. But she couldn’t help but feel something was still missing. Then she remembered something. The body that had been discovered in the shape of a star… could a solarite be behind this?

Lyra couldn’t force herself to think it, let alone say it. “If he’s immunising, that means he may be weak. We can exploit this.”

“There’s something else.”

“What?”

“We’ve received testimony from a guard that Dominus has been seen again in Thalistan. And you’ll never guess where.”

Lyra sighed in disgruntlement. “Please don’t tell me Sadik Yilan.” She rubbed at her temples. He was well-known for his association with occassi crowds. “That man is a headache and a half.”

“I know.” Madhali smiled wryly. “It’s certainly a lead worth pursuing.”

Lyra dug a strand of grass from her hair. “Back to Thalistan I go.”

The mint green sign of The Salt Ring was backed by fluorescent light—the emblematic pestle and mortar encircled by the name, written twice, and flanked by the date of establishment. By far the most lucrative seller of alchemy ingredients, Sadik had made history by taking up the middling business of the childless witch who’d raised him and expanding it to a household name. Few could escape his smiling visage on animated billboards beckoning for sales or that incessant jingle on the radio:

When you need something to make your cauldron sing,

Head on down to The Salt Ring!

Snake tongue, frog legs, and eye of newt,

All you need to give your potion a boot.

So hop on your broom or give this mirror a ping

To get all you need from The Salt Ring!

Lurking beneath it was a well-known secret that he stood at the centre of the interconnected web of black market wares, though he kept such a thing far from his legitimate stores.

Lyra never much liked the fact that the Iron Clan didn’t simply arrest him. But to their logic he was a necessary evil and was best left monitored rather than eliminated. If not him, then someone else would wriggle in to keep filling the pockets of the Thal officials he had on payroll. Such was the reason why Lyra never became more involved in politics.

She glanced up at the sign signalling the head office before she entered. The reception was of extravagant taste, with a high-domed ceiling of stained glass filtering kaleidoscopic patterns onto the polished floors. The purl of the sculptural fountain was soft on Lyra’s ears as she approached the man behind the desk.

“I need to meet with Sadik Yilan.” Lyra propped her arm up on the lacquered ebony. “It’s a most urgent matter of official capacity.”

The receptionist rifled through the visitor’s ledger. “I am afraid that Mr Sadik is most booked up for the foreseeable fu—”

“It’s all right, Isaías.”

Lyra glanced up towards the voice. Upon the stairwell, Sadik Yilan stood in a peach net tunic and satin trousers embroidered with zari and diamanté.

“You can let the spritemaid through.”

Lyra nodded towards the desk before approaching Sadik on the stairs. He led the way up towards his office while Lyra scanned her surroundings, mapping the landscape.

He opened the door to let her through before tapping his cobra cane on the floor. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Ser—”

“de Lis,” Lyra finished for him.

Sadik, smiling, gestured for her to sit before taking his own seat on the tufted leather chair. “Could I procure you any refreshment? Tea? Rosewater?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lyra said, taking a seat at the desk. She propped her ankle on her knee. “I’ve come regarding a recent patron you may have received at The Blue Lobster.”

“Well, I receive plenty of those, you understand,” Sadik said wryly, tenting his fingers together.

“This one is… quite distinctive. An occasso with dark hair, green eyes.” Lyra raised her hand above her head. “About over seven feet.”

Sadik hummed in acknowledgement. “You are right, that is distinctive. Fortunately, I happen to know of the fellow you speak of.”

“You met with him then?”

“Briefly, yes.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes. “And what did he want?”

“Creature claimed he happened to have a proposition for me. I heard him out. Didn’t much care for what he had to say. He left.”

“What sort of proposition?” Lyra lowered her ankle and leaned forward, wrists on her knees.

“He thought I might be interested in performing some chaotic ritual in exchange for money—” Sadik blew his lips in amusement, shrugging with his elbows. “You receive a lot of these opportunistic types when you come into great wealth, as you can imagine. My guess is he’s been struggling a bit since coming from the north to our great continent and was hoping I’d take pity on him.”

“So then you spoke. And then he left.” Lyra gritted her teeth. “That’s it?”

“’Fraid so.”

Lyra didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Any idea where he might have gone?”

“He didn’t seem too eager to share his business.” Sadik’s face was the picture of sympathy. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help to you, ser.”

Lyra could feel her fingers flexing into fists but resisted. She had no way of countering the narrative he’d woven so seamlessly, not unless she found another opening. Her eyes darted about the room and then towards the framed heliographs on his desk. In one Sadik had his arms wrapped around a Thal woman, likely his beloved. In the other was an infant smiling towards the camera, the familial resemblance striking.

“This your daughter, then?” Lyra inquired as she casually handled the heliograph on the desk, bringing it closer into view.

A brief glimmer of discomfort appeared in Sadik’s dark eyes as he hesitated to take the heliograph from her. “Yes, that’s my girl, Yasmin.”

Lyra noted the fondness with which he spoke and suppressed the discomfort it brought to her. She glanced closer at the pictures and discovered, with some surprise, that she recognised the Thal woman. “Seems like an old picture.”

“About ten years ago.” Sadik took the frame from her and adjusted it back in its rightful place. “Reminds me I’ll need to badger my old lady for another.”

“I see.” Lyra rose up from her chair. “That’ll be all for now, Mr Sadik. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“It was my pleasure.”

They regarded each other with daggers concealed behind their civil gazes.

Elina sighed as she exited the gate of her house, and she pursed her lips in thought. Ever since her confrontation with Sadik, she’d been wracked with guilt and worry over the thought that he’d gone and done something foolish. Something irreversible. Worse than when he’d bartered his soul for wealth and bankrupted himself of any virtue in the process.

That moment alone should’ve removed any kernel of affection she still held for him. Yet here she was with a handwoven basket of kokis in the shape of honeybees, hoping the gesture might re-awaken the first time she’d done this after an altercation between them. How Sadik had gone on to call her his honeybee ever since.

She clutched the basket handle tighter as she approached the lone train station to the city. Butterflies suffused her stomach. Her legs twitched with the instinct to turn, to walk away, to sever whatever remaining thread that still bound her heart to his.

Before she could work up the nerve, her path was obstructed by a sudden call.

“Hello again, Mata Panja.”

Elina started in the direction of the spritemaid leaning against the wall adjoining an alleyway. “Ser de Lis? I—”

“Hadn’t anticipated such a coincidence?” Lyra’s lips broadened into a smile. “I’d agree if I hadn’t been staking out the house in the hopes I might see you.”

“Me?” Elina’s voice dwindled to a mousy timbre. Never in her life had she brushed shoulders with the wrong side of the law, her tangential relations notwithstanding. “I don’t understand—”

Lyra stepped towards Elina from the shadows to further eclipse her way. Though they held the same height, her presence made her seem overpowering. She was statuesque, a legendary figure cut from Soleterean marble. Elina couldn’t help but shrink before such majesty.

“Please, ser.” Elina kept her tone calm and even from years of medical practice. “I promise you I have done nothing wrong.”

“Oh, it’s not you I’m after, mata.” Lyra helped herself to a warm kokis from Elina’s basket. “Let me reassure you of that.”

“Then what—”

“You happen to be the ex-lover of Sadik Yilan,” Lyra said, accentuating it with a crunch of dessert. “Common word has it that he is a magnet for illicit occassi activity. I was wondering if you were aware of any contact he’s had with one hulking behemoth of seven feet?”

Elina’s chest hiccupped, her mouth barely forming the words to ask. “Has he—has Sadik been harmed?”

“Not yet,” Lyra replied. “However, I feel confident asserting he may well end up dead if you do not cooperate.”

Elina’s face fell ashen. “Ser, I beg you. I know little.”

“But you do know something.” Lyra noted this with an even livelier bite of kokis. She was a hound with a scent now. “Go on.”

“I know he’s been in contact with the occasso of whom you speak, but that’s all! He… I… we don’t talk.”

Elina swallowed as Lyra narrowed her eyes. It made her feel rotten to be dishonest, but she couldn’t bear the thought of turning him over to the authorities before she had a chance to reach him herself.

“Hmph. Very well.” Lyra consumed what was left of her treat. “I believe you for now, Mata Panja. However, should you happen to run into Sadik or this occasso again, I want you to alert me. Understood?”

Elina wavered in uncertainty.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, ser.” Elina lowered her gaze.

“Outstanding. Now, before we part ways, I would like to bestow something upon you.” Lyra slipped her hand into her jacket and produced a finely carved wooden stake etched with archaic symbols.

Elina’s lips parted in awe and fear. “Is that—?”

“One of the few ways to murder occassi.” Lyra placed the weapon in her hands. “For protection. Should you need it. One pierce straight through the heart should do it. Then twist it.” She mimed the gesture. “So the wound won’t close.”

Elina reluctantly accepted it. The bark was rough on her palm in ways she was not used to from wood.

Finally, Lyra stepped to one side to grant her passage. “Have a pleasant day, mata.”

“Ela! What a pleasant surprise.” Sadik closed the door to his office behind him as Elina stepped inside with a quick glance over her shoulder.

She unravelled her shawl to drape it across her forearm. “I don’t intend to stay long, I just…” She held up the basket in her hands. “I brought you some kokis.”

He recognised immediately the significance of the shape. “Oh, Ela, you…” His throat contracted in fondness. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I felt that I must.” Elina placed the basket on his desk and smoothed her palms down her tunic. “Sadik—” A heavy exhale followed it. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said the other day, and—”

“You’ve changed your mind?”

Elina shook her head at once. “No, Sadik, I’ve come to ask that you stop this. What you’ve done. What you’re doing now… It’s going to get you killed or worse. I thought I could stand back. Watch it happen to you. But I can’t.” Tears welled in her eyes and drizzled down her cheeks. “I can’t.”

“Oh, Elina.” Sadik closed the distance between them to encircle her willow waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. She had always been taller than him, always beyond his reach. It never kept him from trying to grasp her all the same. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you like this.”

“Then promise me.” She pulled back with watery doe eyes to stare into his. “Promise me you will not accept whatever bargain that creature has offered. If you promise, I—I’ll let you see Yasmin again. All she’s done is ask for you since you came to visit. But I can only allow it on that condition, Sadik. You must stay mundane.”

Sadik closed his eyes, drawing in a breath. “Elina, I can’t.” He stepped away from her.

“Why not?” A flicker of anger crossed her expression. Her face was gilded from the soft-toned light of dusk; it brought out the gold in her brown eyes. “Does our daughter matter so little? Do I matter so little?”

“Elina, you are everything to me!”

“Then prove it!” Elina’s voice had risen to an uncharacteristic volume. A tender turtledove she was no longer. But she was too impassioned to control herself now.

“All right.” He sighed in relent. “I’ll stay mundane. I can promise you that much.”

She hadn’t realised how much she needed those words until she heard them said. Until all the tension uncoiled from her stomach and left her winded. “Thank you, Sadik.” More tears fell, but these were from relief rather than anger. She threw her arms around him, burrowing her face into his neck. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Sadik let himself embrace her in the hopes that having her weeping with joy in his arms would be enough. But over the curve of her shoulder, his eyes were deadened.