Page 90 of The Shadow of Polaris

Unleashing beams of power from my palms, I stepped toward the beast. They bounced off its chest, sending flashes of light into the darkness. Blisters of burnt, black skin littered the Minotaur’s chest, and the smell was overwhelming, like burning hair and cooking meat. I gagged, watching the Minotaur claw at its chest to extinguish the embers melting into its core.

With another step, I freed another beam from my fingertips. It struck again, forcing the Minotaur to its knees. The impact of its colossal weight shook the ground, sending tremors up the sturdy fortress walls. Particles of sand and stone rained down and encrusted us with an additional layer of grime.

I pounced once more, raising my blade overhead, preparing for a final blow. The sword’s edge, dripping red, glistened in the night. I swung at the beast, landing on my knees. Two pale ivory horns rolled to my feet.

Consumed by its pain, the Minotaur wavered and sunk into the ground. Glowing ruby eyes, frantic with rage, blinked into the night. I took one last step, wiping the blood from my lower lip.

Using both hands and my full body weight, I plunged my weapon through the beast’s heart. It shuddered against me, exhaling one final breath before collapsing into the mud. Steam rolled off the freshly slaughtered carcass. Heat from its powerful body trickled into the night as life waned from its unseeing eyes. I dropped my blade and sunk to my knees, entirely exhausted, wholly broken.

This wasn’t over yet, though. What few men remained scanned the keep for signs of another attack. The bustle of footsteps and clanking of armor greeted us as the eastern and western fortress doors swung open, unleashing another flurry of beasts. This time it wasn’t lizard-creatures, however; it was men. Each enemy soldier was plated head to toe in silver armor. Plumes of red horse hair struck from each helmeted head. Like a sea of bristling cardinals, the men swarmed us. Long silver spears and sharp metal clubs circled us, forcing us closer as they encroached into our space. I scanned the yard for Lytos. He remained limp and still where I’d left him. Aryx had promised he was healing, but for now, it was best for our enemies to think him dead.

Arcturas growled deeply, her black, blood-soaked fur straightened along her spine. We were surrounded. The unending flood of bodies stifled the yard air. There were too many lungs and not enough oxygen to spare. I looked at Balakros. His expression was of dark defeat. We were simply outnumbered and entirely on the losing side of this battle. This no longer was a fight; it was a massacre.

A horn bellowed in the distance. What I thought was an earthquake shaking through the fortress gates turned out to be a few hundred soldiers outfitted on horseback. On their black armor shone a simple sigil- a single star with four long points. Hermia and her soldiers had arrived, bringing with them the entire Northern Army.

Chapter 49

The cavalry slammed into men, knocking them to their feet with wide-eyed disbelief. Flowing into the keep like a river of rapids, the Northern Army slashed and stabbed and pushed their way through. Dirt flung through the air as the cavalry carved a path around the sea of bodies to the fortress entrance. Trailing behind them, we stormed through the doors with new found vigor from our allies.

War calls and the dying cries of our enemies echoed through the dark chambers, filling the quiet stillness with a raging chaos. We continued further down the cavernous halls, knocking down painted wooden doors to clear each room. With Arcturas by my side, I flew through each doorway, scanning the empty spaces for the Spring Queen. Dirt and muck flung through the air as the battle outside pressed on.

A flood of northern men, shoving and trampling against the wall of our enemies, slammed into Balakros and me as we struggled to stay together. Spears lunged into abdomens, swords sliced across limbs, arrows pierced hearts. The strength of our reinforcements entirely overwhelmed the enemy, leaving them scattered and panicked as defeat closed in around them. It was utter turmoil.

Fighting monsters was one thing, but to take the life of another mortal was something else entirely. My mental log of names and faces grew exponentially. Glimpses of darkness flashed through me with each room we cleared. I pushed my rising guilt and grief back down my throat, telling myself that they were on the wrong side of history. They were the villains. My father once told me that death was inevitable in war. It was a necessary sacrifice to maintain peace and morality over the realms. But these men, these enemies, were fathers, brothers, sons, lovers.

They were just like Lytos.

Just like Aryx.

And so, with the rising guilt, the rising grief, I allowed myself to slip away. To retreat into the safety of shadow. To become the monster everyone feared. The demon shrieked with violent delight as I watched man after man fall to my blade. I was losing myself to her power. I held on to reality by a delicate thread, stretching it further and further, waiting for it to snap.

Everything fell apart when my vision went dark and I sank into the depths, only to resurface when my blade plunged into the heart of a northern soldier. The blood stain on his purple tunic expanded as he gurgled and fell limp against me.

“Oh, my Gods. I- I didn’t mean to.” The hilt of my blade slipped through my fingers, and the golden weapon clanked against the tiled floor as the battle erupted around us. He looked up at me with shocked eyes, his mouth gulping like a fish from water as fluids filled his lungs. I steadied him in my arms, placing pressure on his wounded abdomen.

“Stay with me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” My hands trembled as I watched his expression fade away.

“Please,” he choked. “Tell my mother I love her.”

My legs turned to liquid as I held him. He was a son. Soon to be taken from his mother. Tears welled in my eyes as we lowered to the floor. He gasped and gargled, struggling to maintain consciousness.

“Please. Tell her,” he whispered, his eyes rolling away.

“I’m so sorry. Stay with me. You’ll get to tell her yourself.”

I pushed harder against his swollen belly, hoping that if I applied more pressure, the blood now spewing from his wound would stay in his veins. His skin, although still warm, sagged against my touch and I knew it was too late. I pulled the helmet from his head, sobbing as I saw the boyish features.

He was blonde, like Aryx, with royal blue eyes now a muted shade of grey. He couldn’t have been over fourteen. Forever a boy. He’d never live into adulthood, and it was all my fault. All of this was my fault. How many men would still be alive if I’d accepted my fate and stayed in that tower? If I’d just done what I was told and followed the rules? Yes, I’d rot away up there, but how many would still be here, still be breathing?

Every action has a consequence. Even the smallest, most insignificant of reaction can snowball into something far more overwhelming and destructive. I was the pebble that created this landslide. Now everything swept out from beneath me and I plunged into the darkness, unsure if I’d ever be able to claw myself back out.

I threw my head back, unable to hold in the deafening scream that now poured out of me. The sound echoed through the great hall, hurling soldiers into the air. The fighting stopped. Silence thickened the air as all the light extinguished inside me. I needed to end this. I needed to find Tethys.

Sheathing my sword, I rose to my feet. Avoiding the bodies scattered across the floor, knocked unconscious from the sheer force of my pain, Arcturas and I sprinted through the large marble arches. A grand spiral staircase twisted and turned above me. I found it fitting that this journey’s end began with a staircase. Just as it started.

The stench of plumeria burned my nostrils as I climbed the spiraling tower steps. Cracked marble walls, crumbling beneath thick, green roots, stretched above, blurring at the tower’s peak. I continued climbing, taking steps two at a time, until my lungs were heavy and my legs seared with fatigue. Spinning around and around and around, I pulled myself up by the staircase bannister.

The chamber in the distance didn’t grow closer with each step. No matter how many times I circled the diameter of the tower walls, it remained a speck on the horizon. I felt as if I’d been climbing for hours, having traveled no distance. Something was wrong, entirely wrong. Sweat dampened my armpits, and I pushed my legs to keep going until I was on the brink of collapse.

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