Page 58 of Return of the Darkness
“You mean to tell me there has been a love story unfolding outside my chamber doors at night and Imissedit?” Nyzaia exclaimed.
“Please, you do not care about love stories,” Farid scoffed. He was right; Nyzaia was not one for fantasies or romantic tales. She had only cared about her love—her only love. Nyzaia lost her smile as her mind replayed all the recent deaths and destruction. What was happening to Tajana at this very moment? Nyzaia sighed, bumping Farid’s arm.
“I care about your love story,” she whispered. Farid looked down at her with softened eyes.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Do you think he is safe?”
“If he is not with us, I’m sure he is still back on the isle. He wasn’t as close to the mirror as you were when I walked through,” she said. Farid gave a small nod and smiled. Nyzaia tilted her head at him, mesmerised by the emotions she rarely saw. They made him appear younger and lifted the weight of his traumatic upbringing. She wondered how different he might have been growing up without his father and the wings on his back.
“Can I officiate your wedding?” Nyzaia beamed, distracting him from any worry.
“I’ll push you in the water. With all the fire you wield, I assume you’re like a cat who hates getting wet.”
“Did you just compare me to a cat?” Nyzaia asked. Her smile slipped when she saw the man by the water's edge rise and turn to face them. He held a sword in one hand and a cloth in the other, using it to polish his golden blade. His red robes grazed the sand, revealing his bare feet beneath. His grey beard was manicured into a sharp point while his dark and greying hair hung loose, framing his face. Mischief twinkled in his flaming amber eyes as he approached.
“I see I made an entertaining choice in tying your destinies together,” Keres chuckled.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sadira
Soft petals grazed Sadira’s fingers as she opened her eyes, finding herself cross-legged in a patch of petunias. Plucking one gently from the ground, she brought the flower to her eyeline, turning it in different directions to determine what colour it had been. It was definitely a pale colour, but it was tinged with a sad brown, like the rest of the field. Only now, noting the contrast of her pale pink dress amongst the sepia-shaded fields, Sadira realised how much she valued colour. She raised her head, realising it was not just the flowers drained of vibrancy; the small town opposite appeared the same way. Seley was a melding of stone and thatched houses. While she had only visited once during her travel back from her first ball in Nerida, she easily remembered the strange blend of the two realms, with its bright white walls and pale sandstone.
Sadira turned her head to scan the fields behind her and the Hybrooke Forest on the other side, but she could not see her husband. Her hand flew to her mouth as she turned in the flowers, her pulse quickening. A pale figure mirrored her position. Sadira would have jumped were it not for the deep smile lines and wrinkles around her once bright green eyes. Sadira blinked back tears.
“Hello child,” said her grandmother, reaching towards her.
“Am I…” Sadira began to panic, but her grandmother shook her head and offered reassurance.
“You’re not dead,” Lyra reassured. Sadira had so many questions but was too overwhelmed by the opportunity to see her family.
“I miss you,” Sadira breathed, a tear rolling down her cheek. Lyra tilted her head as her own eyes watered, assessing her granddaughter.
“You’re thriving, Sadira,” Lyra said, glancing at the golden band on her finger with a gentle smile. “Does he make you happy? I see glimpses of the two of you—a perk of being here—but I wish to know what is in your heart.” Lyra rested her hand on Sadira’s chest.
“Very. I am very happy,” Sadira choked.
“In my lifetime, I have been gifted and cursed with many prophecies and fortunes. When I saw you with him and watched your wedding, you weresoyoung. It didn’t happen exactly as I had foreseen as prophecies and visions are open to interpretation, but it was the happiest I have ever been at a vision,” Lyra said, her voice cracking. In this version of Novisia, Sadira’s grandmother seemed peaceful. Sadira had always felt loved by her family, but a tainted aura marred her grandmother on Doltas—sadness after losing so much. Yet here, her grandmother seemed truly happy and at peace; only one person would make her feel that way.
“Is Errard here?” Sadira asked.
“He was.” Although Lyra smiled, Sadira saddened at the past tense, knowing their time was yet again cut short, leaving her here. “We’re fortunate our god has such measures in place to allow those of us with unfinished business to reside here. The only thing your grandfather was waiting for was me.” Sadira’s heart clenched, thinking about her parents. “Your parents knew they had fulfilled everything required of them. As much as they loved you, they were at peace with their decisions and what was asked of them.” Lyra squeezed Sadira’s hands. “Errard passed on recently. Time moves differently here, and so I have no concept of how long ago that was, but we had the time we needed. I was only waiting here for you.” A tear fell down Lyra’s cheek while gazing at her granddaughter. “And then it will be my time to part.” Sadira was overwhelmed by emotions as she waited for her grandmother to continue. She was both grateful for their time together, but also disappointed. Why had her parents not wished to wait to see her? It prompted Sadirato question whether she would pass on or linger in this place with unfinished business.
“You need to learn forgiveness, Sadira,” Lyra said. Sadira frowned; she considered herself a forgiving person, always prioritising the feelings of others before her own. “Your sister.” Sadira looked away, unwilling to confront her conflicting feelings about Soren. “She did not choose this path.”
“She may not have chosen it, but she did not fight it, either. She did everything he asked.” Sadira picked at the flower petals, knowing deep down that was untrue. Having read Jorah’s journals, she understood what Caligh had done, latching his dark claws into Soren’s mind to command her. Yet even they had broken through his control at points.
“Did you know Jorah allowed you to escape?” Sadira asked, and Lyra nodded.
“I did. He was waiting here too. It was part of his unfinished business to set things right with Errard and I.” Slowly, Sadira nodded and clenched her hands.
“Wren remembered Caellum’s name to ensure he was the one who survived,” Sadira continued, and her grandmother sighed, as though sensing the direction of Sadira’s thoughts. “Soren did not remember or break through once. Maybe she does not care about me as much as the others Caligh poisoned.” Lyra moved her hand over Sadira’s, stopping her from plucking the flower petals. She obliged and met her grandmother’s eyes.
“Child, everything Soren ever did was for you.” Lyra gave a pained yet honest smile. “Knowing what you have endured, I understand it’s difficult to process your thoughts and emotions, but Soren is experiencing far worse.” Sadira slumped at her grandmother’s words.
“Nyzaia told me how unstable she has been,” she said. “There were moments when she was her usual stubborn and hateful self, focusing only on her history with Caligh, but—” Sadira hesitated. “She said Soren seemed like a different person at other moments. Iknowthatperson is likely the Soren I once knew.” Sadira sniffed. “But I lost her to him so long ago. How am I ever to believe she can truly be free of whatever plagues her mind? How can I allow her around my husband or my future children, knowing there is a part lingering inside of her that wishes Caellum dead?” Sadira wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I cannot risk that; I cannot risk my husband, my king.” Sadira tried to calm her breathing. The idea of losing Caellum and being utterly alone fuelled a rising panic in her chest.
“Your feelings are valid, Sadira,” Lyra said, straightening. Sadira followed suit, standing a head taller than Lyra. “But you can take precautions while still helping Soren to recover. She is your sister, and she needs you.” Lyra rested a hand on Sadira’s cheek. “It is my time,” Lyra whispered, peering at something over Sadira’s shoulder. The Queen of Garridon turned to look at a head of blonde braids stumbling out of Hybrooke Forest.
