XXIII

Peals of Laila’s laughter came soft and beguiling to Dominus’s ears, before his vision refocused to see the glint of her hair beneath the moonlight.

“Come on, don’t tell me that the big bad occasso is afraid of a little water,” she teased, releasing another peal of laughter that echoed against the face of the cliffs surrounding them.

“I’m not afraid,” Dominus said vehemently. “I’m just—not fond.”

She quirked a brow in that way she often did when she was daring you to live up to her expectations. Then she stood and began, unabashedly, to shed her clothes—piles of filmy silk and gossamer undergarments sailing through the humid air until she was bare beneath the pearl sheen of moonlight.

He watched her run towards the ocean, her golden brown body vanishing between swathes of black velvet. He could still see the puddle of her sunlit glow in the sea.

“Come on in! A little water isn’t going to kill you,” she urged once resurfaced, head cocked in invitation. She was an ethereal blur of watercolour: hair plastered down to her neck, skin iridescent with saltwater. She looked like she belonged to the sea.

Dominus recalled times at the Citadel as a boy, in the last moments he was allowed to be. Before his innocence was shredded away from him like skin before a lupari’s claws. He remembered morning swimming drills by the river, where the cubs would run fast as their older counterparts scrambled to catch them, throwing them headfirst into the deepest water and waiting to see who resurfaced.

Among the runners, he’d been one of the best, like he’d been among the best at everything. As though he could allow himself to be anything less. But even he was caught and tossed, plunged into the deep pit of the water.

He’d done nothing to struggle for several seconds, allowing his muscles and mind to go still. Pinned beneath the high pressure of the river water, all manner of thought leaked through his ears, leaving him just aware enough of the rushing current and the immediacy of his own breathing. Strangely, it was the last time he could ever recall feeling truly at peace.

He kicked off his boots, sliding his cloak down the steep slant of his mountainous shoulders. Then he shed his clothes, arranging them in neat piles against the discarded trail of Laila’s clothes, and stalked towards the ocean unhurried, making large treads in the water until the crown of his head was completely submerged. He stood for what seemed like an age with his eyes wired shut, his mind swiped blank of anything but the trail of air bubbles he released through his nostrils.

He remained for the duration of his exhale before allowing his slow rise to the surface.

When he inhaled again it was followed by a spurt of water from his lungs which he emptied onto the ground. He could tell instantly he was in Soleterea from the mere scent of the wildflowers, the mystical blue-green hue of pellucid lake water. This became further reinforced by the feverish heat and the musical composition of cicadas.

He hauled himself onto the plush blanket of grass and closed his eyes with a groan. Against all odds, he had finally made it where he needed to be. His mission could continue. He dislocated his hand bones to free himself from his shackles before using his claws to saw off his muzzle.

Peering up at the sky, he let the sun burn through the thin layer of his eyelids and send his mind spiralling back into the overheated confines of a laboratory. There, the floors glistened with glass confetti, the disembodied pages of books fluttered like the dying corpses of butterflies, and a hand with streaked fingers was printed in blood against a gurgling glass tank.

Dominus’s fangs were brandished in the reflection of the glass as he lunged for the solarite with pearl-blonde corkscrew curls, her serenely smiling face aglow with mirth. He could not remember her name now. But her face still filled him with the same blood-curdling odium as before. That was what he knew he had to focus on. The hatred. It eroded him inside out, numbing the nerve endings to any other emotion that might take its place.

He used that apathy to cast off the mental anchor of his pain and peel himself up from the grass. The solarites had taken so much from him now. Too much. He would see them pay for it. Even if it was the last action he ever took.

Oh, how Amira loathed these events!

Her lips stretched taut as she lounged beneath her parasol, watching newly blossomed starlet debutantes toddle their first steps into solaritehood. The debutante season always required Amira to make an appearance at—and even host—several social events, where dynasties paraded their daughters before le beau monde to foster alliances, learn the political landscape, or ingratiate themselves to academy representatives to further broaden their girl’s horizons.

That Amira found it so migraine-inducing was likely half the reason why she’d limited herself to only one daughter. Usually it would be Laila whom she would assign to these activities on her behalf. Alas, since she’d all but banished her daughter to the far reaches of the north, Amira now had to contend with her duties catching up to her.

She took a light sip of rose lemonade as she glanced about her surroundings. The Annual Summer Picnic in Aurea Park had seen lovely weather this year at least, and having their food and drink delivered to them via miniature hot air balloons was rather convenient.

Amira summoned one such balloon with her aether to help herself to a cherry pie as her kin braided their hair with wildflowers, drank rose lemonade on their gingham blankets, and picked from the fairy-floss trees.

Everything was idyllic. Everything was utterly tedious!

What Amira wouldn’t give for a touch of excitement to this event. Unfortunately for her, the thought came too soon. Sliding underneath her parasol to join her was none other than Lucrèce Mielette, a glass of nectar wine fizzling with fairy-floss in her hand.

“Why, Lucrèce!” Amira exclaimed in astonishment. “This is a surprise. For what do we owe the honour of you gracing us mere Soletereans with your presence?”

Lucrèce smirked into her glass, her pearl-white braids tinkled with gold bells. “Odaka is charming, but its charm can wear thin after a time. I’m here to see little Luna make her grand debut.” She jutted her chin towards her starlet granddaughter, who was schmoozing along with Hélène. “Speaking of family, how is our princess? I couldn’t make it to this year’s bal masqué, but I hear it was a roaring success.”

“Yes, indeed,” Amira asserted in pride. “Everyone keeps telling me what a wondrous time they had. Oh, you really should’ve been there.”

“I’m surprised those occassi beasts composed themselves well enough, but it seems the event went off without a hitch. Our Laila seems to be having quite the positive influence already…”

“Certainly I’ve had my doubts, but the most recent rex installed, Darius Calantis, has been much more amenable to reason and debate than his predecessor.” Amira concealed her triumphant smile as she drank her lemonade. “I am certain we’ll see a turn in public opinion when it comes to them. Oh, there’ll be setbacks—there always are—but the path to progress is clear, and with the Rose dynasty remaining at the helm we’ll see more from them yet.”

Lucrèce clicked her tongue. “Positioning your dynasty as the only ones capable of reining the beasts in… Well played, Amira. I must commend you. Truly. That might be almost as effective as what I have up my sleeve.”

Amira bristled in annoyance. “And what is that?”

“Ah, now that would be telling, Your Luminosity.” Lucrèce’s cerulean eyes sparkled with mischief. “I must excuse myself, I believe I hear my family calling for me. Wonderful to chat with you, madame.”

With that, the solarite blurred her way towards her relatives and left Amira with her lips pursed in vexation. She smothered her flare of temper with another drink, savouring the residue on her lips. Madhali, her magistress of defence, had still not been able to uncover what it was Lucrèce had been planning, and with Dominus remaining on the loose she knew she shouldn’t declare her victories too soon. If only she could know where Dominus was…

Dominus trudged through the streets of Le Creissant as the sights long buried in his subconscious flitted ephemerally into view: the storefronts infested with wisteria and honeysuckle, the scent of fresh bread, the picturesque pediments and animated friezes, the mesmerising newspaper stands with their moving images.

He passed all this and more, oozing from shadow to shadow, relentlessly stalking the scent on his nostrils until he encountered what he sought. The aroma of a solarite would never leave his nose—that charged, faintly metallic impression, warm and electrifying like the scent of air before a storm. Even a mere whiff left a tingle in his fingertips.

A most tuneful melody floated through his ears when he turned the corner. Laughter and chatter interspersed with the squeal of running starlets as they clutched their straw hats and a fistful of skirts. The scene caused his jaw to clench as he sank deeper into the black miasma of hate surrounding him. He allowed the hate to fuel him, flow through him, fill him up to bursting.

It wasn’t often that occassi would use their own negative emotion to invigorate themselves, as it caused one’s chaos to self-cannibalise to allow the emotion to enlarge. The results were incomparable, but it was akin to forging an explosive of oneself.

However, Dominus was too far gone to be able to reason with such dire consequences. For with each breath he inhaled, sheer spite was exuding out to such an extent that the flowers around him wilted and the birds took flight in a panic. These radiant emissions were so forceful that they soon caught the notice of a few patrolling sprites as Dominus marched forward, uncaring to disguise himself further.

Upon seeing the notorious target, they wasted little time rushing forward to apprehend him.

“Halt! Occasso! I demand you halt!”

Their demands went unheard as Dominus continued walking forward, merely offering a look of searing disdain.

“Choke,” he commanded in an ancient, forbidden tongue.

The sprites retched on their words, hands enclosing around their throats as they wheezed for air. Their veins blackened and protruded in calligraphic figures before they yielded to the lack of oxygen and collapsed onto the street.

Dominus stepped over the flimsy mass of doll limbs and crossed the threshold into the park. The commotion was now noticeable enough that even a few solarites halted in their cosy nooks beneath their parasols, the starlets freezing mid-chase, as all consciousness in the area found a new body to orbit.

He saw himself in the reflection of their vision: the blacked-out eyes and their demoniacal green glow. His dark clothes now soaked through with the tar of his loathing, saturating him to abyssal black.

He didn’t give them a moment to wield aether in defence before he unlatched his jaw and released a spew of noxious black smog that flooded the park in an oppressive surge.

“Come on! Come on! Move it,” Lyra huffed under her breath as she poked her head out of the window.

The aeromobiles surrounding her own chauffeured vehicle had been unmoving for what seemed like hours now, and she had little time to waste. She couldn’t fathom how much had been lost in the search for Dominus, and knowing they’d crossed into Soleterea shortly before losing him, she feared for the safety of her sovereign.

“Ugh! Forget it. I’ll walk,” Lyra snarled, opening the door to the aeromobile and dropping onto the street. She reached above her head to shut it after her before she started walking, then pacing, then running.

While she had never paid much mind to the social calendar, she was at least aware of it enough to know today was the Annual Picnic. She took a shortcut through an alleyway towards Aurea Park, thinking of the time she and Laila had gotten drunk and stumbled through the streets in moonlit laughter.

She dispensed with her thoughts as soon as she saw the plumes of smoke trailing upwards in the distance. Her heart seized.

“No,” she whispered.

She pushed past the crowd gathering around the park with grunted orders until she uncovered the cause. The park was buried beneath a tenebrous woollen cloud. She could hear blood roaring in her ears as she staggered forward and fell to her knees, too stunned for words or sobs.

She was too late. She had failed. Chaos had vanquished her that day.