“She died to create everything?” I hugged my cup close. “And… there’s another world out there?”
“There was. The Celestial Serpent did all he could, trying to gather the broken parts of his beloved, trying to stop her falling apart, but to no avail. She was gone, and although life sprung up on those worlds, he was alone in space once more. He blamed what they’d created for her death and in his rage set about destroying it. He ate the other world and then turned towards earth, but before he could eat that too, he was stopped.”
An entire world destroyed, and ours close to the same fate. All those lives obliterated in an instant. “How?”
“Some versions of the story say a great fae hero fought him and forced him back. Others say the Tellurian Serpent’s spirit visited him with a reminder that these were their children, that their love had created all this—that she loved it all as much as she loved him.”
It was only a story. Objectively I knew that, and yet my eyes stung and my heart was sore. She had given everything. And he had lost everything.
“The Celestial Serpent agreed to only eat the sun each evening and return it come morning. So their children on earth wouldn’t be left in darkness as the serpents once had, her spirit lit up the night, coiled in the form of the moon.”
“They’re always apart.”
He gave me a wistful smile. “That’s what makes the eclipse special. It’s the only time they come back together again.”
“A bit like the king and queen.”
“Hmph. I suppose. But for vastly different reasons. The Sleep allows them and their people to share this land without killing each other.
“True.” I kept my thoughts quiet, trying not to let them turn towards the fact the Sleep was under threat. Frowning at my cup, I cleared my throat. “The serpents’ story is a sad one, though.”
“That wasn’t the point. People tend to see the Celestial Serpent as a traitor—a destroyer—but they forget he helped create the world, too.”
Bastian. That was why they’d called him Serpent after he’d killed his father. A traitor to his own family. I swallowed, throat suddenly thick.
Kaliban held up the teaspoon once more. “The universe has balance because of his dark and her light. Destruction, creation. Order, chaos. The universe needs duality and balance.”
“Control and letting go.”
A smile dawned on his face, not sad or sardonic or even amused, but something warm and genuine. “Stars above, I think she’s got it.”
I turned my hands over, purple nails stark against my tan skin. “You think I’m making progress because I’ve found a middle ground. Venting at times, so I have control at others.” Just like Ella had said.
“Exactly. Bring it to just one finger.”
I took a deep breath and shifted my focus to the hum of magic on my skin. Instead of clawing at it all as I had when the Ascendants had attacked, I pulled on just a little, channeling it to the third finger of my right hand, where Bastian’s ring sat. The purple stain spread down from my nail.
When it reached the base of my finger, I thought hard, like when I’d pushed Kaliban from my mind, Enough.
It stopped.
“I heard that.” He winced. “A little clumsy, perhaps, but you controlled it. Try a different finger—just the first knuckle.”
I let go of the magic I’d channeled, making the stain fade before cupping more magic at the tip of my left forefinger. I tried not to shout Enough in my head this time, and the stain bled a little further than the knuckle, but…
“Not bad.” He nodded slowly. “Try somewhere else. What about a poisoned kiss? I’m sure that could be useful.”
I scoffed and let the magic from my finger dissipate. “You’ll have to tell me if it works.” Another deep breath and I focused on my lips.
“The perfect blackberry lipstick.” He chuckled. “I suspect as you gain experience, you might be able to do it without any colour giving you away, but I’m not sure. Everyone’s gift is different, and yours is unique.”
I touched my tingling lips and grinned back at him before letting the magic fade. “It worked. Ella was right.” For the first time since learning about my magic, I thought about it and my chest filled with something other than dread.
Now it was mine to use rather than something that used me.
“It really worked.”
“It did.” He rose, circled the table, and held out his hand. “You have control over your power.”
Swallowing, I squared my shoulders. I could trust myself to do this. I wouldn’t kill him.
Still, my heart hammered as I took his hand.
But no dark tendrils of poison spread over his skin.
He didn’t gasp or twitch in pain. He just shook my hand. “I’m Kaliban, and I’m pleased to meet you, Kat.”
A laugh burst from me, close to a sob, and my sight blurred with overflowing tears. “You’re not dead.”
Chuckling, he pulled me to my feet and into his arms. “Far from it.” He slapped my back. “I’m so proud of you.”
That was the thing that broke me, and I sobbed into my friend’s chest as he told me over and over.
“I’m proud of you.”
I returned to the library still high on my success. Curled up in a comfortable armchair, I set to work reading the next book in my pile and practised controlling my poison. The huge space stretched on around corners and out of sight, but I hadn’t seen anyone else here today and my chair was tucked into a corner, so it was safe to experiment.
Since the space was large, with massive windows reaching to the ceiling, I tried to haze while reading the introduction, but nothing happened. With a hmm, I tried again, pulling on the magic around me, trying to push poison out through my pores.
Nothing.
The other times I’d hazed, it was either because I was losing control entirely or because I focused completely. Or, in the case of the clearing, both.
My heart squeezed, and I frowned at the page. Reading about the Underworld, the realm of death, didn’t exactly help distract me from the image of Bastian dying, his Shadowblade fading as the light in his eyes went out.
Not thinking about that.
I tightened my grip, the edges of the book digging into my fingers as I pulled a sudden flush of purple to my thumb before making it disappear just as quickly. That I could do with my attention divided.
This passage explained that the Underworld was ruled by the Kings of Death, which sounded very dark and dramatic. It said there were seven, but I’d seen another book mention nine. These accounts were written by fae of this realm who’d probably never set foot there, so no surprise their information wasn’t accurate—or perhaps had been accurate at one time but wasn’t anymore.
They might’ve divided over time or some had united. Knowing what people said about the unseelie, conquering seemed more likely.
The next paragraph talked about how the Wild Hunt was loyal to one of those kings, which made me sit back and frown.
Loyal? The Wild Hunt?
In all the stories I’d heard, they were described as nothing more than wicked, ancient entities cursed to ride and hunt forever, single-minded and wild. Hence the name.