Varis glides down in front of me, his cloak twirling in an unnatural wind.
I nearly pass out from relief and fear and complete anguish. "Varis, I'm so sorry."
He doesn't look at me as he replies. "This is not the time. Focus. You and you alone can calm the Midnight Star and push back the Darkness. Close your eyes."
I feel gutted at his anger and disappointment, and my own failure to abide by his guidance, but I close my eyes and focus as he speaks. He takes me through exercises to calm my heart rate, to ease tension, to manifest the light in my soul and dispel the Darkness.
I can hear his owl, Zyra, fighting with Yami, struggling to pin him down and keep him from causing more harm. I can hear the screams of men and women as they try to put out fires and free others from rubble. I feel a wave of grief at what I've done, but I push it away and concentrate.
I push away the anger and fear and sorrow. I push away the thrill I sought after. I push until there is nothing left. But calm. But peace.
When I open my eyes, my little baby dragon is with me again, perching on my shoulder. And then I feel exhaustion overtake me, and I collapse. I look up, to the burning grove, to the ancient trees who groan as they die, and I weep. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know…"
Varis doesn’t look at me. "I told you not to summon the Darkness. Now, you must live with the consequences." He turns and walks away, leaving me alone with shadow and flame.
Chapter 11
SILVER FLAME
Kayla Windhelm
"We cannot let our enemies live."
—Lord Salzar
We return to the Outlands and mount Tavian’s horse once more. "Metsi is even more mad than I heard," he says, half to himself.
I frown. "And you thought going to her was a good idea?"
"She wasn’t always so. Once she was kind and wise and good. Seeing her people slaughtered must have changed her."
"What happened back there, when the room grew dark?"
He sighs. "You know of the four elements, yes? Riku, Wadu, Zyra, and Tauren. Most Fae tap into their power to cast spells. But there is another power. That of Darkness. That of the Midnight Star. It is life. It is death. It is the beginning and the end."
"Is that the power you use?"
He looks away, something lurking in his eyes. Shame, perhaps. "Long ago, before the Unraveling, I was a scholar of sorts. I studied at a library so great, there are none that even compare now. My colleagues and I developed a theory, a theory that the power of the Midnight Star can be accessed by others. Not only the chosen High Fae.
"It took years of research and experimentation, but finally we created a ritual. We spoke the incantations under a full moon, covered in the colors of night. And we saw it… the Darkness. But we could not control it. The power spread like a plague, killing all it touched. All but those who had called it forth.
"When I realized what was happening. I ran. I ran back home. To my family. My wife. And when I reached them. I saw their rotting bodies, covered in blackened flesh. I still remember my wife, reaching for me, pleading for me to save her. But I could do nothing."
He goes silent, and I can tell he will say no more.
"I’m sorry," I say, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.
"It was a long time ago," he says.
And then, we ride in silence.
I look to the fresh sky and watch the rising sun. The climate here, even the time of day, is so different from Avakiri. I try to lighten the mood. "So, since you decided not to sell me to the crazy Wild One, what next?"
He doesn’t face me. Just looks at the snow, lost in thought. "Don’t know. But there’s a storm coming. We need shelter." I wonder how he knows. I see no signs. "We’ll be there soon."
"There?"
He motions forward, and then I see it, in the distance.
A small village built from gray wood, surrounded by palisades. The houses little more than huts. When we ride in, a Fae woman with blue hair and dark gray robes greets us as she leans on her withered walking stick. "Tavian, so good to see you, my lad." She hugs him.
"And you, Madrid."
The woman, Madrid, turns to me. "And who is this—"
"That be Kayla Windhelm," says another Fae, walking up beside us. His hair is red, his short beard too, and he wears a leather vest made for fighting. "She’s the dead king’s bastard. Saw her once in Stonehill. Sorry girl, but we don’t need yer kind here."
Madrid places a hand on her companion. "Now Durk, be calm. Remember, we welcome all in this village. As long as they swear to bring no harm."
Tavian side eyes me, and I nod. "I swear."
"So do I," he says.
"Wonderful," says Madrid, smiling. "Now, follow me. The two of you look like you haven’t bathed in weeks."
She’s not quite wrong. I reek.
Durk mumbles and curses under his breath, but lets us pass as we travel through the village. Children play in the snow, building figures from sticks and singing songs about the Primal One. Women wash clothing in barrels of water. Men patch together a broken rooftop.