Page 109 of What Blooms from Death

All I could think about—all I could see and feel and hear—were those two swords before me. They hummed with a faint, ancient power, whispering against my skin like a brush of wind over water, sending ripples of awe radiating through me.

Luminor was as beautiful as I remembered. In the low light of the room, it seemed particularly radiant, its broad blade faintly pulsing with a glow that shifted between shades of pale gold and soft blue. The hilt was polished moonstone, with a guard that was simple, yet elegant, its intertwining spindles of gold like protective beams of shielding light. Delicate, but strong—the sort of weapon that I imagined would feel like a weightless extension of one’s arm.

Grimnor hung with a more obvious weight. Its beauty was of a different sort—haunting, heavy, unyielding. Where Luminorgave off light, Grimnor seemed to absorb it, staining its more narrow blade in a deep, velvety shade of black that occasionally tumbled with a smoky-white energy. The hilt appeared crafted from obsidian, inlaid with veins of a red gemstone that sparkled whenever Luminor's light shifted over it. The guard was minimal, a jagged flaring of polished black metal that made me think of dragon wings.

“They’re both here.” My voice was hushed. I couldn’t fully explain the sense of reverence rising in my chest, but it felt as if I was looking upon the faces of gods.

“Yes,” said Thalia. “Luminor fell into our possession seven years ago, thanks, however inadvertently, to you—a bit of good luck that this realm was sorely overdue for. Grimnor, meanwhile, has been here ever since Calista’s passing, centuries ago.”

“…Calista?” I was immediately, mentally transported back to the shrine where I’d last stood with Orin. “Argoth’s wife and queen, you mean?”

“They were never truly wed,” Thalia informed me. “And she was never a queen.”

“Though they were in love,” Bastian added.

Zayn settled down on the crimson cushions of a bench against the wall, propping himself up on the armrest with the air of a king settling in to watch a performance.

Aleksander gave him a wry look.

I arched a brow, waiting for the Elarithian lord to summon food and drink to enjoy along with his show.

But Zayn only shrugged and said, “There’s clearly a long story here.” He waved a hand toward my brother, urging him on.

Bastian slowly nodded, looking back to the floating swords as he began. “Calista was the last Vaelora born into Noctaris until Nova came along hundreds of years later. Her counterpart was Lorien Blackvale, one of the most powerful wielders of Lightmagic to ever walk in Soltaris. Some say Lorien was more than a human, even, and was in fact the offspring of a mortal and a god. His heart was human enough, however—because it fell in love with Calista.

“Prior to these two, the Vaelora were always celibate beings. They were bound only to their duty, both by tradition and by the magical pact put in place between the first Vaelora and the old gods themselves. They were raised with strict objectives: Make it to adulthood without bonding to anyone else, master their magic, and be prepared to work with their counterpart to carry out the Equinoctial Turning through the use of magic and their respective swords. After the Turning, the expectation was sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” The word felt heavy on my tongue.

“Another duty of Luminor and Grimnor,” said Bastian. “Once the Vaelora ritualistically impaled themselves upon the blades, the magic they carried would leave their bodies and eventually find its way into the souls of the next pair of them to be born, and thus the cycle continued.”

“You saidprior to these two,” Aleksander said. “So I’m guessing Calista and Lorien didn’t follow expectations?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Thalia said.

Bastian nodded, his expression solemn. “Lorien was the first to suggest they abandon the traditional Turning. He claimed he wanted to seek a way to bring balance back tobothworlds once more—but truthfully, it was an attempt to avoid death and keep Calista alive for his own selfish desires.”

“And Calista pretended to go along with this plan,” Thalia said, “because she didn’t want to turn the Aetherstone’s magic either. Her reluctance had nothing to do with any love forLorien, though—even though she led him to believe that was the case.”

“It was her love for Argoth, wasn’t it?” Zayn guessed.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but the room seemed to darken at the words, both swords shifting, wobbling in their suspended places. Luminor, in particular, appeared restless, its blade continuing to shiver and shimmer for several moments after Zayn spoke.

“…Yes,” Thalia said, watching Luminor out of the corner of her eye as her head tilted toward Zayn. “She loved that mortal, magicless king so much that she refused to turn the Aetherstone’s power to Noctaris because it would mean the end of their relationship.”

“What happens to the worlds when the Stone is turned away from it?” I wanted to know. “When things were still functioning as intended, I mean.”

“A death-like slumber would overtake every living thing in those worlds,” Bastian said. “A…hibernation,of sorts. Some of the souls in it were preserved and would revive as soon as the magic shifted and the time to reawaken came; others would perish in the time between; and a chosen few were believed to be immediately transferred into the opposite world, to be given an opportunity to live in it as well…it’s an interesting thing to study, really, if you wanted to—”

“Interesting, but not a subject we have time for at the moment,” Thalia interrupted.

Bastian gave her a sheepish look. I got the impression it wasn’t the first time she’d stopped my brother from launching into a tangent of fact and figure reciting. Despite her hasty silencing, however, there seemed to be a rare glimmer of affection in her amethyst eyes—as though she admired his enthusiasm, even if we didn’t have time for it.

I wondered briefly at their relationship—atallthe relationships my brother had with everyone but me. All I’d missed. My heart beat unsteadily in my chest, still unsure of how to feel about him and the idea of making up for all our lost time.

“Anyway,” Thalia continued, “when Lorien discovered Calista’s love for the mortal king, he tried to murder her in a fit of jealous rage. She was badly wounded, but she escaped and fled to this palace. Here, she poured the last of her magic out, creating a protective ward around this area. She died soon after.

“With her death, the already delayed Turning was more…permanentlydelayed—but the spells she laid in place here carried on, and they’ve allowed the palace and the royal city south of it to continue to exist in a relatively normal state. The Below outside of this, however, has been withering away ever since—though nothing trulydies. You’ve seen the shades, the wraiths, the cities full of flames…all of it shadows of what once was. All of it has been sustained by Calista’s desperate last spells, and occasionally bolstered by the weaker magic of the ones who served her, in hopes that one day it could all be truly restored.”

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