Kiran had always preferred the wildlands. But the wildlands alone with Aurora? That was more of a blessing than he ever could have dreamed. During the day, he watched in absolute awe as she brought storms to life before his eyes. And at night, they kept each other safe from the cold, wrapped up so completely in each other that it was torture to untangle themselves come morning.
But he did it anyway, because the sooner they were out of bed and fed, the sooner they could start their walk down the river. It was a long journey, and Kiran was determined to soak up every moment he could. He asked her every question he could think of. Some were silly—things about food or colors or animals. Others were more introspective—regrets and accomplishments and hopes. Anything that she would tell him, he wanted to know.
“Do you like it?” he asked, as they made their way to the pool for another day’s collection.
“It?” she asked, her eyebrow raised and a provocative smile pulling across her mouth.
He tugged on the hand he held, pulling her close enough to steal a kiss. “Not that, Princess. I mean your magic. Now that you have it mostly figured out. Do you like it?”
She considered the question as they walked, their intertwined hands swinging lightly between them. “I think I do.” She continued, “It is still odd, of course. And I would rather avoid the darker souls altogether. But the rest … it is heartbreaking how many there are, and how their lives—full and real and detailed—have been reduced to a series of impulses and emotions. It is as if someone made a shaded copy of an etching on a piece of paper. And then copied that paper, and the next, again and again until all but the most pronounced designs of the original etching had been lost. That is what so many of these spirits are. They are holding onto trauma from memories they no longer have. I feel like I get to provide them an escape. And I do not know, maybe … maybe a few of them will find their way to the next life through it.”
“You think that possible?”
Aurora shrugged. “I do not even know if there is a next life. I only know that these spirits are stuck here, and they should not be.”
“Have you thought…” Kiran hesitated, unsure how she would react, then decided not to censor himself with her. “Have you thought about whether you would ever take another storm? Like with the skyfire?”
Aurora swallowed. “If you had asked me a few weeks ago, I would have been outraged that you even asked. It would have been a firm no. I still want the answer to be a no. But…” She sighed. “But … things are complicated, and compromises have to be made. I cannot expect everyone else to fight a war, while I stay clean. I—I do not know.”
He squeezed her hand. “You do not have to know. We can take things one step at a time. On every front.”
He regretted the turn down which his questions had taken the conversation, for she was somber as they arrived at the area where they worked. Like all the days before, he set out their supplies. He had learned to let her take her time. In truth, he could barely even call what he was doing hunting.
So far, most of the storms she had conjured had remained calm, not at all like the predatory tempests to which he was accustomed. Often, Aurora was even able to direct the spirit toward him and asked it to remain still while he collected magic, then she would send it off to gallivant on its own for a bit, before drawing it back in for the next collection. It was more like corralling a distracted child than a storm.
But he was not complaining.
Aurora was nothing short of resplendent while she worked her magic. Whatever emotion she was feeling, she radiated it outward like she was her own sun. Most of the time, she was happy, which made him feel like he was always just shy of bursting. But in the beginning, when she first connected with a spirit, she was often forlorn. The grief rolled off her in drifts that made him feel like he was back in the freezing river again, fighting not to drown.
Today she laid a hand comfortably on his back as she bent to look over the Stormheart options. They had already collected a fair amount of wind, rain, and skyfire. All their options from here on out were decidedly less simple. She knelt, running her fingers first over the smooth, shiny black of the twister Stormheart. He glanced around, thinking they might need to find a larger open area if they were going to try for twisters today. The water put them at too much of a disadvantage.
But then her fingers left that heart, brushing past a few more before touching the crystalline red shard of a firestorm heart. In truth, they did not need firestorm magic. They needed firestorm hearts to help when natural firestorms hit, but he was not sure how she would feel about providing them, considering it would mean the destruction of the souls she called.
She wavered, her fingers drifting over to the gray fog Stormheart that lay next in line. His stomach clenched. He knew they would have to do the fog eventually, but that did not mean he was eager for the moment. He did not have a fog Stormheart of his own; this one belonged to Duke. But they had only enough powder left for one use, so he would have this one day to collect as much magic as possible. This though was another storm where they needed hearts as badly as they needed the magic, so they could grind them down into more powder. So he would also finally have to face his fear and take the heart of a fog storm, even if the mental invasion it would take made him uneasy.
He saw the knowledge of what had to be done in Aurora’s face when she looked up at him, her expression torn.
“I know you do not want to,” he murmured. “But perhaps there is a compromise. You can call any soul you like. You do not have to choose the ones with redeeming qualities. Instead, maybe you could use one of the darker souls. I know you hate them, but if I took the heart of one of those storms, it is one less malevolent spirit out there for the Stormlord to use.”
“That is true. But … I am not sure I will have as much control over the spirit. You will have to be careful.”
“I am a hunter, love. Careful comes with the territory,” he said, chucking her under the chin with his knuckles, determined not to show any of his nerves.
She took a deep breath and said, “Okay. But we will go with fog, then. I am not risking a firestorm breaking free from my hold on my first try.”
They split the fog powder they had left on hand, giving each of them as much immunity from the storm’s mind-altering magic as possible. Then they prepared for battle.
This time was different from all the ones that came before. As Aurora closed her eyes and began to wander away from him into whatever world it was that she felt and saw that he could not, she had none of the calm, peaceful demeanor she normally had. Her shoulders were stiff, and her fists clenched. A sweat broke out on her forehead within minutes, and instead of the grief or pity or compassion he was used to seeing as she drew a soul toward herself, her expression tightened into a grimace, her nose wrinkling up in what he could only guess was disgust.
He watched her struggle, and he nearly called the whole thing off. He had come to love the way she looked when she was using magic—ethereal and effervescent and everything that was good in this world. But this … this was not like that. As she gritted her teeth, a tingle of magic began to spread through the atmosphere. It felt … tainted. The air turned thick and sticky, like he was breathing in tar, and even though it was morning, a dark gloom seemed to shadow the sun long before any storm ever took shape.
Then, he saw it. Like creeping fingers bursting from a shallow grave, long tendrils of a dense, milky-white fog had begun to extend from the woods around them. He looked to Aurora, whose face had gone red with the effort of control she was exerting, and knew it was his turn now.
Kiran marched forward, prepared to meet the sinister storm halfway.
Aurora was shaking. Her attention was split between controlling the storm itself, lest it decide to turn in another direction and seek out others for destruction, and maintaining the integrity of herself. Those boundaries Sly had told her about, they had become more and more clear over recent days as she worked through her own emotions alongside the souls she helped. She had presented each of her calls to the souls as an opportunity for cleansing, the chance to break free from the emotions that bound them here. But the experiences had been cleansing for her too. Each time, she poured out the emotions she had been holding onto as well, letting go of old hurts, long-held guilt, and unspoken fears. And each time she had repeated the process, the edges of her own soul had become more defined.
They were not always pretty. She had her ripped and tattered places, the rocky spots where it was only safe for her to tread, but by being honest with herself, those things had lost some of the power they once had, giving her more of the control she needed.
And she was glad for it today, because she was not sure she could have touched this soul, brought it so close to her own, before now. It twisted and writhed under her care, either trying to break free or latch onto her like a leech. It was a delicate balance to keep it close, but not so close that it could permeate her own thoughts and desires.
She felt the moment that Kiran entered the fog, because the storm surged with fury at its inability to affect him. As if it knew she was somehow to blame, it turned all its attention on her instead, pummeling at the barrier of her mind. It swarmed her, clenching around her, gouging at any perceived weak spots, trying to force itself into the space that was only her.
Her jaw dropped in a gasp, but she struggled to lift her chest enough to actually draw in air. She had tried to choose a spirit that was corrupted, but not necessarily the most dangerous option. It appeared she had underestimated the soul’s determination to cause harm. But as long as its attention was focused on her, that should make Kiran’s task easier. A soul divided would be easier for him to defeat.
She concentrated on all the things she had gained of late—she had her confidence back, her mother was safe, she and Kiran had repaired their relationship, she knew more of her magic than she would have thought possible a few months ago. Skies, she had magic. That alone was more than she could have dreamed a few years ago. She was not just Princess Aurora. Nor was she the hunter Roar, who had lied to her friends. She was someone completely different who had taken all of those experiences and come out the other side whole and better, and she would keep doing that, no matter what this world threw at her.
The storm’s assault suddenly halted, and she felt a smoldering scream of rage tear through her mind. Aurora was finally able to draw in a much-needed breath, and she knew the real fight had begun—Kiran had gone for the storm’s heart.
All the pressure that had been slowly crushing closer and closer disappeared, leaving her dizzy at the change. She opened her eyes to find the clearing completely immersed in fog. She lifted her hand, noting that it disappeared as soon as her arm stretched to its full length. She knew the water was to her left, but she could no longer see it. Kiran was somewhere up ahead. She felt the intensity of his soul, determined and strong. Unlike their night in the desert, she was not afraid this time. He was winning this fight, and she knew it. It was only a matter of time before the fog surrendered its heart.
She was focused so intensely on the battle, on Kiran’s nearing victory, that she stopped paying attention to the rest of her surroundings. It was too late to do anything by the time she felt a presence at her back, one whose soul was complex and large and knit together from mismatched pieces like a patchwork quilt.
A hand clamped over her mouth, jerking her back hard enough to lose her footing. Another arm wound around her, constricting her movements, and hot breath invaded her ear.
She shuddered as a low, male voice said, “Come easily, or I will call another storm for your friend while he is distracted. What do you think will happen then? He will either die by my storm or lose focus and die by yours.”
Aurora’s heart crumpled, sinking somewhere into her stomach. Then she did the only thing she could do. Aurora nodded her agreement, and she let the Stormlord take her.