Page 59 of Return of the Darkness
“I—” Sadira turned back to find Lyra had vanished. She let out a sad and frustrated sigh. She had so much to ask about the Wiccan, the pins, Athena, and their friendship. Now, her chance was gone. Her grandmother was gone.
The sun in the tinged sky shone down on Sadira as she turned to face her sister, stumbling through the field in her direction. Sadira was uncertain whether she had seen her yet. With a deep breath, Sadira yelled, “Soren!”
Her sister stilled in the field and straightened at Sadira’s voice. The pair walked towards one another. From afar, they appeared as two sides of a coin striding toward one another. On one side was a queen in pink, the embodiment of beauty and life, and on the other was a broken woman, her green shirt stark against the sepia-painted backdrop. Her hand rested on the empty sheath where her sword once was, twitching—a soldier, once destined to be a protector.
Sadira carefully watched Soren, searching for a tell she was not in the right mind. Only bright green eyes stared back at her, glisteningwith tears.
“Sadira, I-” Soren stopped as they met one another, with Sadira maintaining a distance between them. Sadira waited as Soren bowed her head, silent. Sadira said nothing. She refused to break the silence while uncertain of Soren’s state of mind. “I’m sorry” was all Soren said, but when she raised her head, her features had changed. She clenched her jaw and blinked rapidly before beginning to pace, groaning and shaking her hands. She cracked her neck and kept walking, looking at the sky. “No, I don’t,” Soren said to no one. “I don’t want to!”
While Soren’s attention was elsewhere, Sadira stepped back to widen the distance. She wanted to reassure her it would be okay and keep her focused, but she was frightened of getting too close. She feared her own sister.Perhaps I am a coward.
Sadira frowned. She wanted to ask Soren if she was okay but did not dare risk being too close.
“Can I do anything?” Sadira finally asked, softening her tone. Soren spun and narrowed her eyes.
“You’ve done enough,” she spat. Sadira clenched her jaw and squeezed her hands before her stomach, trying to summon her power. It ignored her. “If you had just let me do what was asked of me—if you had let mekillhim—then I wouldn’t be here! I would be far away with Caligh,” Soren complained, pacing through the field. Sadira tried to control her anger, not responding to her sister’s betrayal. Soren scoffed.
“I need to walk to the Neutral City; it is the most likely place the others will think to find one another,” Sadira said, though she did not turn to walk towards the city. She realised then—everything here was reversed.
“Others,” sneered Soren. “What others could you possibly need?”
“I need to find Caellum. I need to speak with Elisara, Larelle, and Nyzaia.” At that, Soren paused and tilted her head, focusing on something unknown to Sadira. She slumped and unclenched herhands, which hung loosely at her sides. When she turned to face Sadira again, she appeared exhausted, her eyes drooping and lips down-turned. A pang of sympathy struck Sadira then, although Soren’s hateful words overshadowed any feelings of forgiveness. She did not want to be alone with her.
“I will escort you,” Soren whispered.
“In silence,” Sadira said. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Larelle
Before Larelle opened her eyes, she heard the rush of water brushing pebbles before soaking her bare feet. At least she was near water. Her stomach had flipped when they passed through the mirror, but nothing else felt unusual about their journey; it was simply like walking through a door. Larelle’s pulse spiked as she squeezed her hand yet found Zarya’s absent. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of laughter and splashing nearby. Turning her head, she found Alvan holding Zarya’s hands while she splashed in the water lapping at the stoney shore and giggled as the droplets scattered on Alvan’s trousers. While the lord was doing an admirable job of occupying the princess, Larelle noted his tight jaw and roaming eyes. She rose from where she sat to take in the faded surroundings. The water, usually a vibrant blue, was dark, and the pebbles were a faded shade of brown. Even the trees on the island in the centre had lost their vibrant greenery. Larelle blinked, registering the layout of the icy water and yellow-tinted snow in the distance. They were at the Vellius Sea.
“This must be why there were two maps,” said Zarya. Alvan dropped her hands as she crouched to gather pebbles and toss them across the lake. The Vellius Sea. Larelle frowned. Perhaps she was right. One map for the waking Novisia, and one for whatever this sleepy, silent land was. On the other map, there were no monuments or place names—just a plain, simple Novisia. Larelle rose, mourning the loss of water as she took uneven steps over the pebbles towards her daughter.
“Is this what it was like in your dream, Zarya?” Larelle asked,recalling how Zarya had described The Bay as colourless. The princess nodded and picked up another handful of pebbles, the water lapping at her feet. She stood ankle deep in the lake. Was Osiris here somewhere? Had he somehow pulled them all through?
“She saw this place,” Alvan murmured beside Larelle. “Like a vision?”
“Or maybe a hint that we needed to be here,” Larelle whispered.
“A hint from who?” Alvan asked. “Who actually gifts her with this ‘intuition’?”
“It was Osiris she met in the dream. Perhaps he ensured she saw this place,” Larelle murmured. Alvan was tense and cautious of the man supposedly trying to help them.
“Do you remember what Vivian said when we first visited the church? She told Zarya that dreams were a gift from the Goddess Nerida. Perhaps this isherway of helping us.” Larelle’s gaze shifted from her daughter to a figure slumped on the rocks in the distance.
“Olden,” Larelle breathed. “Olden!” she shouted, pushing past Alvan to where the old man sat atop a rock, his eyes closed. How did he get here? He was on the boat with Lillian. Larelle knelt before him, wincing at the pebbles digging into her shins. “Olden,” she repeated, gripping his wrinkled hands. He opened his eyes and blinked, awaking from sleep. He looked around him with eyes that mirrored Riyas’s, except for the colour. Olden frowned at the tainted appearance of the realm.
“Am I dead?” he croaked.
“No, no. Of course not! Otherwise, we would be too,” Larelle reassured him. “What happened before you opened your eyes?”
“Grandpa!” Zarya called. Larelle shot out her hand, signalling for Alvan to occupy the princess. Olden’s eyes lit up at his granddaughter.
“My legs were feeling wobbly on the boat, so I told Lillian I was going to wait on the sands.” He stifled a yawn. “She was happy to stay on the boat and watch over me. I remember sitting downagainst a fallen tree, happily listening to the ocean.” Olden smiled at Larelle. “You know what I’m like. The sound is just so soothing I must have fallen asleep, and when I opened my eyes, here I was.” Larelle scanned his body, searching for any signs of injury, but he appeared normal—frail and tired, but normal. Larelle gave a sigh of relief.
“And Lillian was still on the boat?” she clarified. Olden nodded.
