Iskareth finally let go, and Wyn dropped, landing crumpled against the stone, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The flame that had once burned so fiercely had died down to an ember, leaving his body wracked with pain. He tried to move, but he had no strength left, and his fingers twitched uselessly in the dirt.

  His gaze fell onto Sadirah, who stood frozen near the entrance, her hands clenched so tightly they shook. Her eyes darted between him, the writhing shapes of her siblings, and her father, standing over Wyn.

  “You can fix them, can’t you Father?” she whispered. “Parisa, Seya, Little Roonie? You can fix them right?”

  Once more, he answered with brutal honesty. “It’s impossible. Their souls are broken beyond repair. But now, you won’t ever have to say goodbye again. They’ll stay here, Sadirah. With us.”

  Her chest hitched, and her face grew even more pained. Still, she stepped forward.

  “Get away from him,” she whispered.

  “Sadirah,” Iskareth said gently. “Do not involve yourself in this.”

  She held out her arm, and slowly unwrapped the bandages that covered it. As they fell away, scarred, swollen flesh revealed itself. A lattice of wounds ran from wrist to shoulder, discolored and uneven, her skin like a testing ground more than a living thing.

  “If only I could be uninvolved,” she clutched at her chest. “If I could stop feeling this way, then I would want nothing more. You told me I was important, that I was helping to save them. But they were never going to get better, or be cured! My whole life—my dream—was nothing more than a lie!” As tears spilled freely from her eyes, she took another step. “I won’t let you take from me any more!”

  The ground cracked beneath her feet.

  She was on him in an instant, her punch wild and untrained but carried by terrifying speed and force.

  Iskareth raised his tentacles to block, but her fist blew through them and slammed into his chest, hurling him across the room where he cratered into the wall. The whole room shook, and dirt rained from the ceiling as Iskareth coughed up blood.

  “I—” he coughed, his voice failing. “Have taken nothing from you.”

  “Years of my life!” Sadirah raged, grabbing his chest, fingers digging into flesh. “My siblings! My friends! You’ve tortured and hurt every person in this room! Tine will never dress hair! Parisa will never sail a boat. Nilou…” her voice broke. “Nilou will never see those lights.”

  As she brought back her fist to finish the job, Iskareth choked out a few more words. “You blame me for Nilou, and yet I’m not the one who killed her.”

  Sadirah froze, dropping him as she took a step back. “What?”

  “That’s right,” he rasped, latching onto this last chance. “I know you’ve buried the memories deep, Sadirah, but they’re still there, aren’t they? I didn’t steal your life—I saved it. Everywhere you went, you brought only pain. You remember that don’t you? I know the names of each of my children. I know their hopes and desires. And yet you can’t remember a single person you’ve hurt.”

  Now, she staggered, clutching her head. “No that’s—I knew…”

  “He’s lying!” Wyn cried. “Don’t listen to him.”

  Iskareth pushed himself to his feet, walking towards Sadirah as she stumbled away. “It seems things are coming back to her,” he growled. “Memories she’d long locked away, along with the rest of that terrible power of hers.”

  “No…” Sadirah cried. “No no, I don’t want to remember this. I was wrong—I don’t want to remember! Make it stop!”

  “Sadirah!” Wyn shouted hoarsely. “It’s—”

  It’s okay. The words died on his tongue. How could he say them, when he didn’t know what she was seeing?

  “Iskareth!” Wyn clawed at the dirt. “You bastard!”

  Iskareth chuckled weakly. “You hate me for lying, you hate me for telling the truth. I cannot win.”

  “Father, why am I like this?” Sadirah begged, shaking with fear.

  Iskareth regarded her for a long moment, his monstrous body language opaque to Wyn’s scrutiny. “I suppose you aren’t a child anymore.” He sighed deeply, his voice taking on a tender inflection. “I do not know all the details of this story myself. It took me many years before I was able to put even this together, secrets deep in the church’s archives. The truth is, my daughter—that power you hold is not your own.

  “Since the era of kings, the sepals of Liresil have stood guard over three precious artifacts—relics of unknown power and importance. They have remained unused for thousands of years, except, I suspect, for one.

  “In times of war, almost without fail, one of the sepal has obtained immense strength, enough to even rival the Aegises of Edria. But only ever one. Perhaps this could be chalked up to mere coincidence. Conflict breeds strength, after all. Except for one small detail: the night of Sepal Nasrin’s death, a newborn child appeared on the steps of a small orphanage in the south of Liresil. That child was you.”

  Wyn’s eyes widened. He’d heard this story before—he’d seen it with his own eyes. A lone woman, trudging through the snow, driven forward even in her dying breaths. Nasrin had ‘betrayed’ Haoma, and the whole of Liresil. That was what he’d had said, and yet Wyn hadn’t understood what that meant, until now.

  “The death of a sepal, whose power was beyond measure, and the birth of a child with the same. With your blood samples, I was able to all but confirm my theory. That relic, whatever it may be, now resides inside your soul.”

  She’d given one of the artifacts away to Sadirah? No, it wasn’t that simple. If he really tried, Wyn could see a resemblance there. They had the same eyes.

  Sadirah laughed dryly. “So it’s all some stupid relic? That’s why you needed me? That’s what it was all about in the end?”

  Iskareth stared at her, silent for another eternity. “Your soul, through that bond, has incredible strength and resilience. By the time I found you, it was already stronger than a full grown adult’s. If I could replicate that effect in the others, even partially, then they would be able to withstand the burden of apotheosis.”

  “I see. I was cursed from the very beginning then.”

  “That’s not true!” Wyn shouted, straining to lift his head. Having seen the sepal’s last moments, he knew better than anyone how she’d felt in that moment. “It was a gift Sadirah! A blessing! Don’t let him convince you otherwise!”

  Iskareth scoffed. “And why should I, when we agree? But the line between a blessing and a curse can be so razor thin. That kind of power could not be controlled by a mere child. I believe the number was fourteen. That was the number of people she crippled before turning ten. Not to mention, the one she killed. Isn’t that right Sadirah?”

  Her fists clenched at her side as she turned her head away.

  “It wasn’t your fault! You were just a child, you can’t be blamed for that!”

  “As far as she runs from the weight of her sins, they will never leave her!” Iskareth roared. “Don’t you see Sadirah? The only way to atone for all the pain you’ve wrought is to complete my work! To see it through to the end, and help me to create the perfect world! In the world I seek, Norman, Amaya, and Nilou would still be alive!”

  Sadirah looked up. “Maybe you’re right. But there’s nothing I can do to bring them back. All I can do now is make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

  Iskareth coughed, drawing himself up. “You’re making a mistake, daughter.”

  “I probably am.”

  Sadirah charged again, but it was slower than before, filled with hesitation. She was holding back her power, whether consciously or not.

  Iskareth was able to dodge, striking back and tossing Sadirah like a ragdoll.

  She rolled clumsily to her feet, but he was already on her again, lashing out with his crippled tentacles.

  “I don’t want to hurt you!” he screamed. “Don’t make me do this!”

  They exchanged several blows, but while it was clear Sadirah was untrained, Iskareth fought with something Wyn could only describe as animal instinct. She landed a punch on his side, but it didn’t knock him back like before. He held his ground and grabbed her arm, struggling as he tried to subdue her.

  “Think Sadirah! If you kill me, what’s going to happen to your siblings? They’ll just be experimented on even further! They’ll outlive you, that boy, or anyone else that cares about them! They’ll be tortured and cut apart by people trying to figure out what makes them tick!”

  “No!” Wyn found the strength to rise. “I won’t let that happen!” He promised. Even if he didn’t know how, he would figure something out. He began to stumble towards them, almost falling as he managed to grab his sword. Purple fire sputtered to life on its edge, weak and flickering.

  Seeing Wyn coming, Isakreth tightened his grip on Sadirah, who continued to struggle in his grasp. “I’m sorry,” he growled. There was a sickening snap as he broke her arm, and Sadirah cried out in pain, losing her leverage in an instant.

  He threw her across the ground, and she tumbled into a heap back near the entrance.

  Wyn slowed for a step, but he couldn’t spare any more time as Iskareth was on him, beating him down with raw power that he could no longer match.

  As he stumbled back, Wyn tried to command the roots again, but his mental grasp was weak. The roots trembled, but didn’t grasp like he wanted.

  Iskareth slammed his bestial arms down, and Wyn was driven to a knee.

  He’d run completely out of aura, but he screamed as he demanded more strength from his limbs anyway. He could feel his body tearing apart as spirit fire tried to burn Iskareth away. He tasted blood, and spots flashed in his vision.

  Iskareth punched him in the stomach, and his body finally gave out.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  ***

  From afar, Sadirah watched in a daze as her father drove his fist into Wyn’s stomach, and he crumpled. So bloodied and beaten, he was almost unrecognizable, and she felt another knife slide into her heart.

  Her siblings were gathered around her.

  Sadirah could hear their voices, worrying over her injuries, making sure she was okay. She could hear them all, each and every one of them, even if she didn’t want to. She knew what they looked like in reality, but through the tears blurring her vision, all she could see was Seya, her adorable little sister, prodding her arm.

  “Are you okay Sadirah? Why are you fighting Father?”

  Little Roonie stood in front of her protectively, his arms spread wide. “Papa, don’t hurt our sister!”

  The doorway within her shook on its hinges, but she shoved back against it, holding it closed.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Parisa patted her head, looking confused. “Why are you sorry?”

  Sadirah couldn’t control her own sobbing. “I was a terrible big sister. The worst of the worst.”

  Tiny arms wrapped around her waist, squeezing her tight. She looked up, and saw her younger brother Phil with tears running from his own eyes. “That’s not true!” He cried. “You were the best!”

  “Yeah!” Parisa hugged her too.

  Trey grabbed her hand. “I think so too!”

  “I love you big sis!”

  “You make the best food!”

  All at once they shouted their assent, voices overlapping until she couldn’t make out individuals anymore, and Sadirah cried even more. The doorway sang, the song of Liresil seeping out through the cracks. With the music, there were even fainter voices.

  “I love you Sadirah.”

  “When you get here, let’s pick some flowers together, okay?”

  Her eyes widened—Norman and Amaya weren’t alive anymore, and yet…

  “Sadirah?” Flin tugged at her sleeve. “I want to see big brother Norman. He promised he’d teach me math.”

  “Tine isn’t here,” Ori said. “Or Arnim. Do you think they’re with Amaya and Norman?”

  “It hurts,” Nali cried. “My body hurts… Can you make it stop, Sadirah?”

  Rai tilted his chin up, putting on a tough look. “It doesn’t hurt that bad. I’ll keep you safe big sis, don’t worry. I’ll beat up Father for you!”

  Slowly, Sadirah looked around her at every one of her siblings. Pain was etched onto each of their faces, though some were trying to hide it. They were suffering—of course they were. Whatever Father had done, this mangling of their souls, it was a graver sin than anything she could imagine. Even still, they forced smiles to make her feel better. They’d always done that, hadn’t they?

  Perhaps this life really was cursed for some. But in that moment, she thought she'd been truly blessed.

  “I’m sorry,” she pulled them closer, trying to piece together her breaking voice. “There’s nothing I can do for you anymore. Except, even if it’s in the next life, I promise you. We’ll all be together again.”

  Then, amidst her tears, Sadirah stood up, and the door swung open.

  ***

  Eryndor jumped away from Vaeril, clutching his side where the statue had landed a crushing blow. Both of them were breathing heavily, deep into their own reserves of power.

  The statue had begun to crumble, turning wispy in places where Vaeril struggled to hold it together.

  Surely he’s bottoming out by now, Eryndor thought. Is his channeling so refined that even this level of fire isn’t impeding him?

  “You’re flagging Eryndor!” Vaeril yelled, projecting confidence. “And yet I could do this all—”

  He cut himself off as both of their heads snapped to the east, feeling the same thing in the distance.

  It was as though a second sun, composed entirely of mana, had suddenly appeared in the city. Waves of power washed over his senses as they traveled outwards from the epicenter, disrupting the flow of mana for miles.

  Kings before… What is that? That couldn’t be from a single person. The sheer amount of mana was beyond even some of the Aegises—it was almost as much as the headmaster. And yet, there was no refinement to it, no spell or technique. Describing it as a sun was indeed apt, for it felt more like a force of nature than that of a human’s will.

  A glance at Vaeril told him that the Asura was just as confused as Eryndor himself. Whatever this power, it was beyond the cult’s plans. Could it be the work of Haoma himself?

  As Eryndor leveled his blade again, he took some solace in that thought.

  And he prayed.

  ***

  “Oh?” The strange woman’s surprised voice drew Corrin’s attention from across the room. She was glancing towards the far wall, though her eyes were distant, like she was looking beyond it.

  A moment later, Kita growled low, all his fur standing on end. Luscien’s head turned too, his eyes widening.

  Corrin couldn’t feel anything, but his channels had recovered just enough to send a trickle of aura to his eyes. As the world grew awash with color, all he could see was that the flow of mana had picked up, flowing past them like a river instead of drifting aimlessly. He wasn’t sure what had merited such a reaction.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, but Luscien’s brow only furrowed without giving him an answer.

  “There you are,” the woman muttered, smiling to herself. In two quick leaps, she was back at the entrance, completely ignoring the two of them as she rushed out the door.

  Luscien didn’t even glance her way as he clenched his shaking fist. “What the hell is happening in this city?”

  ***

  Father took a step back, hesitantly. “Wait—Sadirah! What are you doing?”

  Prismatic light began to stream from her skin, like a pearl, all the colors shimmering within white, bathing the cavern in a glow light the day. More power rushed from somewhere inside her, a vast, endless sea. With it, came the memories she’d traded away. Nilou’s death was at the forefront, but it wasn’t alone. Days spent playing in the river, warm under the sun, and nights spent naming constellations in the stars.

  Now, she embraced them all.

  Across the room, Zavi finally broke free of the roots, falling onto his knees. His hair was whipped back by the waves of power, giving her a perfect view of his face, stricken with helpless despair. She met his eyes for just a moment, smiling gently, then turned back towards her father.

  “Sadirah stop this!” he shouted, retreating still from the light. “Someone is going to get hurt again! Think about your siblings!”

  The song of Liresil crescendoed, growing louder. Her siblings walked with her, crowding close even as the power began to tear them apart.

  Wyn looked up at her, uncomprehending. She understood now—how she’d left everything to him, running from her burdens, and her pain.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She kept walking, and the ground shattered with each step, chunks of rock slowly rising into the air as if untouched by gravity.

  “Big sis?” Seya’s voice was strained. “Why are you and Father fighting? Family shouldn’t fight!”

  “Stay back!” Father screamed. He grabbed one of the rocks, larger than a person, and threw it at her. It was blasted apart before getting close. “You’re killing them Sadirah! You have to stop! Don’t do this!”

  “If… I want to stay here a little longer,” Sadirah whispered. “Is that—is that okay?”

  Parisa smiled. “If it makes you happy, then I say yes! We’ll all wait for you, us, and Father too!”

  Tears streaming down her face, Sadirah held her hand up, palm out. The pearlescent energy crashed against her Father and slammed him into the wall, holding him up with the force of its stream. And yet, it kept building, growing even brighter.

  “Sadirah!” He howled, his voice drained out by the singing mana as it tore into the stone.

  She closed her eyes, and memories flashed through her mind. Years of being treated like a curse, and living without knowing anything of love. She could still remember his hand on her head, and the warmth of his voice, unlike anything she’d ever known.

  For as long as you are here, you will be my daughter, and I, your father. You are my hope, little one. I will love you, always.

  “Father.” When she opened her eyes, she saw him as he had always been, smiling warmly as he welcomed her home. “Even still, thank you.”

  The roof of the cavern exploded, and the wall in front of her disappeared as the power surged outwards. The world grew brighter, and brighter, until everything had been engulfed by the endless, blinding light.

  ***

  Wyn’s eyes fluttered open, looking up at the spirit tree, shrouded in the darkness of the imminent eclipse. Leaves fell from its dying boughs, and he knew his job was not done, but he lingered a little longer. He was lying on his back, with something soft beneath his head.

  As his gaze moved, he saw Sadirah’s face. Her eyes were distant, and she didn’t notice him waking at first. Judging from their relative positions, his head was in her lap, and since he didn’t see the walls of the cavern, she must have carried him outside. She’d even brought his sword, and it lay on the ground beside him.

  They were back on the surface, in the ruins of the House of Spring. Water from the broken fountain trickled by only a few feet away. Just past the cellar entrance, a massive hole had been opened in the ground, and a rift stretched out from it for hundreds of feet. At the edge of the hole, Zavi was on his knees. His body shook as he sobbed quietly, wings folded back.

  Wyn was relieved that he’d survived. At least he…

  Slowly, his memories came back to him—the blinding light, and overwhelming power Sadirah had unleashed. The sheer force of it had overwhelmed him, even at the periphery, assailing him until he’d passed out. Iskareth was certainly no more, and the children…

  “Why?” he asked hoarsely.

  “It was all that I could do for them.”

  Wyn swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Sadirah shook her head slowly. “Maybe he was right, you know? This world might really be cursed.”

  The look on her face, a void of emotion, and those words, crushed him more than anything Iskareth had said.

  Some kind of hero I am…

  “But they’re waiting for me. All of them. If I don’t see them at the end, then I’ll love them in the next life, or the next. If I’m reborn a hundred times, or a thousand, as a human or a spirit, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure that I’ll see them all again. I’ll apologize until my throat is raw, and I’ll hug them until they beg me to stop.”

  Wyn couldn’t say anything to that. He just turned his head to the side, watching Zavi again as a gentle breeze blew across the quiet courtyard.

  “Zavi, is he—?”

  “He’ll be alright,” Sadirah whispered. “He’s angry with me though. He was screaming until a few minutes ago. I’ll go check on him soon, but I think he wants to be alone.”

  “I see.”

  “I thought about going with them, you know?”

  Normally, Wyn might’ve felt a deep-seated rejection to that idea, but he just felt numb. He didn’t think he could sink any lower. “Why didn’t you?”

  Sadirah looked out past the courtyard. “I was just… selfish, I guess.”

  “I see.”

  “Wyn?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s nothing left for me here. Can I go with you? Will you take me to Taravast? To those lights on the sea? Maybe it is selfish, but I think… I think I want to live.”

  Wyn’s eyes teared up, but he did his best to nod. He grabbed her hand. “Of course. We can go see them together.”

  Her hollow gaze trembled just a bit, and her grip tightened. For a moment, it looked like she might even smile.

  A silvery blade, thin like a needle, pierced her through the neck.

  Blood dripped down onto Wyn’s cheek.

  Sadirah’s grip went limp, and her body toppled over.

  “Finally found you,” a familiar voice cut the silence. The woman called ‘Elza’ was standing at the edge of the courtyard, one arm outstretched. “It’s a damn shame, really.” She frowned. “But I guess that’s life.”

  Wyn looked at Elza, then back at Sadirah, then back again at Elza.

  His fingers clenched around his sword, and without a thought, spirit fire tore up its length as he rose. Elza hardly seemed to care.

  “Wyn…” A whispered voice rose up from behind him. “I see them…”

  He turned desperately, and saw Sadirah’s fingers reaching out towards the water that trickled by. There, reflected on its surface, was the light of his violet flames, dancing in the dark.

  Sadirah’s lips curled into a faint, fading smile. “I see them… the lights.”