Page 62 of The Illuminated
When I stepped out of the Akashic Records, the world beyond was no longer a desert. It was now a forest at dusk, the stars and planets above bright and shimmering like jewels. I walked away from the tall steps, and when I cast a glance back, the library had vanished like it had never been there at all. Tall evergreens loomed all around me, and strange creatures made of light flew like birds overhead or scurried over fallen branches and leaves. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight of a bear, black as coal, rooting around on the forest floor in front of me.
It stood on its hind legs, a faint blue glow around its body. We stared at each other for several long seconds before it walked to me, sniffed my hand, then licked it. I tentatively pet its big bear head, uncertain if she was cute or terrifying.
The bear followed me as I walked, not unlike a well-trained dog. A huge, scary dog that could easily rip my limbs from my body.
The astrals were weird. And awesome.
The sound of voices swam toward us far too soon, and I recognized the tenor of Lucius’s anger immediately, paired with Katherine’s terse admonishments. I wondered idly if time had worked for them like it had for me, or if they’d been fighting for days.
“My Queen is approaching,” I heard Lucius say through the tall trees. “I know because we are connected for all of eternity, whether she accepts it now or not.”
My nose crinkled, and I pushed past brush and tree branches that seemed to bloom out of nowhere, like the forest itself was building a wall between me and the tyrant King. I appreciated the gesture, but it seemed we really were, unfortunately, cosmically connected.
I stumbled out into the most bizarre scene I’d ever witnessed in my short life—one that I wouldn’t have been able to dream up myself if I’d tried.
Lucius was tied to a chair made of tree limbs that was rooted into the ground, facing his mother who held a smudge bundle of herbs and a rod of quartz.
“Katherine, bless your heart, but I really don’t think that’s going to do it,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
Lucius laughed a thunderous laugh. “That might be the first truly funny thing you’ve ever said.” He paused. “Why do you have a bear?”
I glanced behind me, and the creature suddenly snarled and roared, standing up on her hind legs and glaring at Lucius.
“I don’t know, but I like her,” I said.
“Were you successful?” Katherine asked me, her eyes erratic and her features tight. She looked like she was at her wit’s end, tired from long hours spent trying to reason with her ornery child.
Lucius, on the other hand, exuded anger. But as I stepped closer, I could sense his true feelings for the first time, now that they weren’t so muddled by power. I felt pain. I feltfear.
“Yes,” I answered, mesmerized by the notes of Lucius’s aura underneath the shadows. He was nervous and defensive, like an animal caught in a hunter’s snare. “You really do have emotions… of some kind, at least.”
“Not for much longer,” he snarled. “It’s this place. Mommy Dearest thought she could weaken me with heretical nonsense so you can steal my throne and destroy everything I’ve built.”
“Come here, darling,” Katherine said, seemingly unperturbed by my aggressive animal companion. “You should have a turn.”
My curiosity was piqued, but I couldn’t help but look at them and remember everything I’d seen, and their story took on a whole new light. Katherine was desperate to resuscitate the son who died on that altar, and Lucius was that scared child, goaded into losing his humanity for the promise of absolute power. But he was no longer that boy. He was the man who ordered soldiers to kill my mothers and to kill me, a child myself at the time. He was the man who continued his father’s genocide and slavery. Who filled the dungeons with witches whose pain only made him stronger… pain that even gave himpleasure.
I stood in front of him as he struggled against his binds. “Iknow, Lucius,” I said at first, watching him squirm and contort in confusion and paranoia and fear. “I know everything. And soon, so will everyone else. They will all see who you are and what you’ve done. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
Katherine pursed her lips, staring between us. “You affect him more than I have,” she said quietly. “Here, take these. The crystal is enchanted with the power to feel as a clairsentient does, with all of its intensity. The herbs are to protect us from his retaliation.”
“I don’t need the herbs.” My astral bear friend walked to Lucius, snarling and watching his every move. “But sure. Sounds fun.”
I took the rod, feeling its energetic makeup as it reached out to mingle with my own. Its enchantment was strong, like it was forged somewhere ancient and powerful. I slowly approached Lucius, who looked like he might try to bite me.
“Enough of these annoying games,” he said. “We need to return before the realm—”
He sucked in a breath as the crystal met his third eye, searing his skin. He cried out as I flooded his mind with the pain he had caused. I thought of my mothers, and the pain of losing their child and dying at the hands of soldiers who’d slaughtered everyone they’d ever known. I thought of my own pain—of losing my family, of seeing my scorched home, and of all the pain I had experienced since arriving at the castle. I thought of the dungeons, and what it had felt like to see the horde of injured, desperate witches, clawing at the walls and bars, crawling all over each other like living corpses—the utter devastation of imprisonment, and the loss of their own homes and families that were either dead or displaced—and I let that unfathomable grief and terror flood into the quartz conduit and bury itself into Lucius’s psyche.
Then I channeled Daelon’s pain. There was the loss of his own parents and the fear of moving into the castle with the people who had killed them. I showed the split in Daelon’s psyche from the immensity of his guilt, shame, and repeated trauma as he did Lucius’s bidding. It moved through me like crashing waves, and as Lucius felt it, I had to feel it too. I winced and braced, but I allowed it all in, every horrible moment I’d ever known.
And when I removed the rod, Lucius’s face was blank. His aura was raging, reflecting all that I had felt, but it didn’t take long for a familiar darkness to creep in and eclipse the rest. It was like a comfort blanket, thick with denial and self-preservation. As I stepped away, the paranoia, fear, and anger took back their rightful place.
Even after all of that, Lucius didn’t crave absolution. Not like Tomas, the old drunk. Lucius wanted retribution. Vengeance. As if he were the one who’d been slighted and no one else.
I turned to Katherine. “He’s dead. Move on,” I said bitterly.
Her face fell. I knew my words were callous. But they were the truth. I was done with placating, settling, compromising, or losing myself in the pain of Lucius’s atrocities.
