Cyrene looked exactly as she had the day Kerrigan had left her. Her dark hair long to her waist and curled effortlessly. She wore a red dress of sturdy Byern wool that accentuated her slim waist and strong build. The Tendrille forged steel, Shadowbreaker, hung in a sheath at her side. Beauty, brains, and brawn, all rolled into one impeccable package. Her mentor and the person she looked up to more than anyone else in the entire world.
And somehow, she was here.
“Don’t cry,” Cyrene said with a laugh. She stepped through the snow. It melted upon contact with her, leaving her untouched as she came to Kerrigan’s side and bundled Kerrigan into her arms. “No crying.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Cyrene said gently. “Can we get you warm first?”
“Yes,” she croaked. “I can’t feel my feet.”
Cyrene laughed. “We’ll work on that.”
They linked arms, and Cyrene helped her into Vera’s cottage. Kerrigan was instantly warmed by the change in temperature. A fire blazed hot in the fireplace, of which had been empty earlier that day.
“Let me get you a change of clothes and some blankets. I can look at your feet, but I’ve never been much of a healer,” she said with an unconcerned shrug.
Cyrene returned with men’s clothing that was a few sizes too big for either of them. Cyrene helped Kerrigan strip out of her frozen attire to reveal the blue-tint of her skin beneath, then wrapped her up in warm wool pants, a shirt, and a jacket before forcing her to sit before the fire with a heap of blankets atop her. Cyrene even left for the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with warm tea.
“How … how are you here?” Kerrigan asked now that the reality of the situation was catching up with her. “I was in the clearing. We were performing a ritual to get my magic back.”
Cyrene arched an eyebrow. “Back?”
“It’s a long story. The gist of it is that those people who didn’t want you to compete in the dragon tournament decided they didn’t want the rest of us alive. I just happened to be the scapegoat for the entire movement.”
Cyrene pursed her lips. “I see.”
“But I performed the ritual. It didn’t work. And now … now, I’m here. It’s the wrong season. Everyone else is gone. I don’t …”
“I’ve learned to just go with it,” Cyrene admitted.
“Something like this has happened to you before?”
Cyrene chuckled. “Ah, yes. Many times.”
“But you … you never lost your magic.”
“No,” she admitted. “This is something different.”
“So, why am I here?”
Cyrene took a seat opposite her. She was no older than the day Kerrigan had last seen her, and yet she felt years wiser. “Why do you think you’re here?”
Kerrigan nearly choked on the tea as it warmed her throat. “I don’t even know where here is. Is this the spirit plane? I can’t feel its magic.”
“Of sorts. What do you know of the spirit plane?”
“It’s a magical realm connected to our subconscious and unconscious self. You can speak to people across dimensions, learn magic, travel long distances …” She trailed off. It didn’t sound sufficient for what it really was.
“And the dead?” Cyrene prompted.
Kerrigan blinked at her. “Are you dead? Is that why you look the same? Oh gods!”
“No,” Cyrene said quickly. “No, I’m perfectly safe and whole back home in Byern, I assure you. I was called when you needed me. As others have been called to assist me.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” she said, blowing out her breath heavily. “I couldn’t take one more blow.”
“I’m familiar with that feeling.” Their eyes met again, and she began, “The spirit plane is not just a place for the living. It is a way to commune with the dead. With the ancestors of Doma past who have put you where you are right now. It’s not a conjuring or haunting,” she said when she saw Kerrigan’s fearful face. “It’s more like connecting.”
“That’s why I’m here? I need to connect with the dead?”
“Perhaps,” Cyrene said. “You reached out for me.”
“I didn’t …”
“Unknowingly perhaps, but you did it. And with me comes the history of Doma in my world. The wonders of hundreds of girls just like you and me who had magic and had to fight their way to the top.”
“This is nice and all,” Kerrigan said, wincing as feeling began to return to her feet and with it came pain. “But how does that get my magic back?”
“Maybe it doesn’t,” Cyrene conceded.
Kerrigan blanched. “But that doesn’t make sense. If I called you in the middle of my ritual to return my magic, then you must have answers on how to get it back.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone had all the answers?”
She sagged. Cyrene didn’t have answers. That was … that wasn’t possible. Cyrene had had all the answers. Only Cyrene had remained pure and untainted by the disappointment in Kerrigan’s life. Was this the lesson? Never meet your heroes? Because she had wanted Cyrene to fix all of her problems once before, and then she had left, like all the others. Now, she was here, and she had no more answer as to how to fix all of this than Kerrigan did.
It wasn’t Cyrene’s fault, but it didn’t stop the anger at the situation and her loss of magic and the fact that there were no answers.
“If you can’t help, I don’t understand why you’re here,” she snapped.
Cyrene arched an eyebrow. She looked imperious and bold and confident. As if she’d never had reason to second guess herself. And that infuriated Kerrigan more than ever.
“You sit there in your Byern wool, safely tucked away in your home, and you know nothing of my troubles. You don’t know how to fix them. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“Okay. If you’d prefer to do this alone,” Cyrene said, coming to her feet.
“No, wait …”
Kerrigan tried stand but flopped backward. Her feet had lost the ability to support her weight. The pain made her curse up a storm as anger, humiliation, and despair all mingled together. She’d done everything right. She’d tried as hard as she could. If even Cyrene couldn’t help her, who could?
When the last curse word left Kerrigan’s mouth, Cyrene began to laugh. “Oh Creator, we are so much alike, aren’t we?”
The anger drained away instantly. And with it came all her fears and frustrations once more.
“I’m just so lost,” Kerrigan said on a choked sob. “I’ve been putting on a brave face this whole time. I went in search of my mother. I’ve fought literal wars. How much more do I have to do to succeed? How much more of myself do I have to give?”
Cyrene held out her hand, and Kerrigan took it uncertainly. “Everything.”
“What?”
“You have to give everything. No one wants to. No one should have to have that burden. It’s not fair. It will never be fair.”
“But why me?”
“For girls like us, there isn’t another option.”
Cyrene smiled down at her sadly. Yet Kerrigan felt warmth all the way through. It didn’t make it easier. Nothing would make it easier. But Cyrene had succeeded where everyone else had failed. Kerrigan was tired of fighting, but she wasn’t doing it alone. And she wouldn’t stand by and let them win.
Gingerly, she rose to her feet. This time, they held her. The cold was gone. The signs of hypothermia eradicated. She was strong again.
“There you go,” Cyrene said with a smile. “Now, let’s see what we can do about your magic.”
Kerrigan’s eyes lit up. “I thought you didn’t know what to do about that.”
“I don’t, but someone else might. And we’re Doma,” she said with a proud tilt of her head. “None of us are ever alone in this. You did call for me after all.”
Cyrene tugged her in close, and they headed for the front door. But when they stepped across the threshold, the snow was gone. The lands of Domara were gone. In its place stood a great castle, built into a mountain. Tears filled Cyrene’s eyes as they strode toward it. Kerrigan had seen this place before. The Nit Decus castle from Cyrene’s own world. The proud stronghold of magic in her world before it had all been destroyed because of the love one man had for a woman he could never have.
“It’s just as I remember,” Cyrene said with a sigh.
They strode through the gray stone archway and down an elaborately decorated corridor. Cyrene took them in a circuitous route, as if she wanted to live here one more time, but eventually, she stopped before a blank stone wall. She gestured for Kerrigan to place her hand against it, and together, they moved the stone, revealing a hidden passageway. They stepped through it, hand in hand.
Kerrigan gaped when they reached the end of the tunnel. The room was the size of the council room within Draco Mountain. Big enough for hundreds of people to assemble and dragons to watch on from on high. The castle didn’t look capable of housing this many, let alone dragons. Yet the magic made perfect sense at the same time.
“What is this place?”
“A memory,” Cyrene said thoughtfully. “A world of magic that had once been and perhaps will be again.”
They stepped up to a small podium at the center of the room. A shimmering book lay on top of it.
Cyrene nodded her head at it. “Go ahead.”
Kerrigan bit her lip. “Here goes nothing.”
She opened the book. The words seemed to shift and slide together in iridescent shades. For a moment, she had no idea what was happening, and when she looked up again, the seats were all full. Women, hundreds of women, were dressed in various styles of white dresses. Even Cyrene’s red garment had been converted to white. She could see familiar features in so many of the women, and yet none were the same.
Her heart leaped when she saw Helly seated in the first row. Her black robes replaced with white ones. Her eyes glimmering with pride. Kerrigan wanted to go to her, but she was frozen in place with all these eyes on her.
“Descendant of He Who Reigns,” a woman said at the center of the mass. She was in a bone-white throne. Her hair the color of the chair. Her eyes blue and misted over. “Why have you called us?”
Cyrene nodded at her encouragingly.
“My magic was stolen from me. I want it returned.”
“Do you believe someone from his bloodline is deserving of such a thing?”
Kerrigan shuddered at the power in that voice. “I can’t help who I am descended from any more than anyone else. I never asked to be his descendant. I’ve seen the vile he has thrown across the world.”
“The universe,” the woman corrected.
“Yes.” Kerrigan swallowed. “He would not claim me if he even knew I existed. I am only half of his line and the other half of the Fae. But parentage is predetermined. How I respond to it is another. I didn’t even know who my mother was until recently. I didn’t know her father was a monster. I’ve dedicated my entire life to fighting against the monsters in my own world. And I can’t do it alone.”
“How do we know that if we return what was stolen that you will not turn into him?”
“You don’t,” Kerrigan said easily. “Just like I have no way of knowing if I will save my world, even with my magic. I only know that without it, you damn them all.”
The woman nodded once sagely. “You have heard from my great-granddaughter.” Kerrigan gaped at her. “I created the monster that was unleashed upon this world. I was not cast aside for what he became. She should not be judged for the same. The only one to be held responsible is He Who Reigns. If one of his descendants wants to right his wrongs, then we call that cleansing.”
She raised her hand and said, “Aye.”
The rest of the large circular room had been silent through the woman’s speech. But at the raising of her hand, the other women all followed suit, raising their hands and agreeing with her.
Cyrene came forward then with a knife in her hand. “To bind.”
Kerrigan looked down at it wildly, her emotions on the fritz. “What do I do?”
“You bleed.”
Before Kerrigan could even move, Cyrene sliced across each of her forearms. Kerrigan cried out in pain as red blossomed on her arms. A bowl appeared where the book had once been, collecting the blood. She remained stoic as she watched it fill. Even as she felt woozy from the loss.
Cyrene hefted the bowl into her hands and over Kerrigan’s head. Kerrigan’s eyes went wide with alarm. She wanted to protest, but then Cyrene was dumping the blood over her head. The sticky substance soaking through her red hair and down her clothes and over her milky skin.
“Reach now,” Cyrene told her. “Take back what is yours. We’re here to ground you.”
Kerrigan opened her mouth to ask her what the hell that meant. Then, the tang of blood hit her tongue, and her head snapped backward. The room was open to the sky now. Stars filling the void above them. Her pupils dilated until she felt as if she could hold the entire cosmos in her mind. All the stars shifted into pretty constellations. The placement aligning ever so slightly until she could zero in on the precise point of focus.
The lights danced in her irises as she grasped the knowledge of the whole world. Her mind couldn’t possibly contain it. Everything was too massive. There was no way for her to ever understand the enormity of the universe, and yet she was still grasping, still reaching for more.
She wanted to stop and break away. She had enough. She had too much.
And yet she couldn’t stop.
She couldn’t bring herself to release all of that knowledge. Surely, she could expand to encompass it all. To become more than she was.
“Child,” a woman’s voice interrupted her, “this is not for you.”
Kerrigan turned her star-crusted eyes to the woman. She was magnificent in a gown of celestial light with galaxies in her all-black eyes and shining tattoos of all the stars upon her skin.
“I can’t stop.”
The woman glided toward her, radiating power. “You can. Release now.”
Her hand came to Kerrigan’s head, and it was like being touched by the heat of the sun. It burned through her from head to toe. She opened her mouth to scream, but all the came out was starlight glowing from every orifice.
And then there was nothing.