RIMELIA
We were far past Eziara's shores, soaring through clouds, when I'd opened the first gate. It had cost me strength—more than it ever did. So much powers were thundering inside of me, in my bones and blood, renewing relentlessly, when my body could not meet the pace.
That magical portal had carried us from the skies above the ocean between Cantelot and the Dark Continent, to the ones overlooking the sea that merged with Rimelia's shores in a mass of frozen water and lands. There had been no warm foehn here, which was enough to tell me it wasn’t Mienus Elayas, but somewhere far colder.
My wingbeats were decreasing with each trickling minute, my body a lapsing moment away before it ended crashing through the skies and into the snow-blasted lands. I couldn't maintain it anymore; my strengths were fading away, seeping with the blood that barely ceased gurgling out of my wounds. I didn't know whose glorious idea was to extend some wind elemental to carry the blood that fell, so it wouldn't spread the scent so widely. I didn’t have enough power left in my muscles—what remained of them—to do so.
I needed land. I needed somewhere to crash and rest.
My breaths were uneven, the scent of my own blood was so strong it made me sick. My vision was blurring. And then I was falling.
Falling falling falling—
Strong arms wrapped around me, and glorious wingbeats echoed in my ears like howling winds. The piercing, slashing air that harassed my wounds as I fell transformed into gentle breezes swaying through the strands of hair that weren't matted to my face. I couldn't bring the wings that had faded to materialize again—didn't even find enough willpower to do so. Crashing in snow seemed so pleasant, so appealing now that every movement was agonizing.
I steered some magic away from healing, allowed it to spurt out of my hands in a feeble flicker, and watched as it stretched beneath us: another gate. But this time, I didn't guide the destination. Instead, I linked my mind with who had caught me midway through my fall, reaching his aura with open arms. Luthian. I gave him the thread, the guiding power to lead us through, then pushed his arms away.
There had been a cry. Maybe more. And maybe they had been mines, but I only stared at the gate that swallowed me as I plunged into its magic.
Then collided with thick snows.
The impact hurt, every inch of me wailing as I fell on knees and elbows. Pain tore my throat, and I found my body unable to fight the quivering and trembling that all the blood-loss had caused. My elbows slipped, my face was pressed against snow, the unforgiving coldness so agonizing it was like shards of glass were peeling my skin away.
I screamed for the first time. Screamed and screamed until my voice broke and blood came out in coughs. Until I felt the shaking of the world as the five bodies landed next to me. I tried rolling to the side, tried curling, tried finding a position that didn't so bloody hurt. But I found none.
The sickly pale skin Sorcha had charmed was black-smeared, the muscles beneath it in ribbons. Some places, there were none, no muscles, no skins. Nothing but visible bones. In others, even the bones were chipped and broken, pieces missing and filed at edges, grinded to dust. I screamed again, pulling uselessly at myself, hands running over my wounds, guiding more healing magic over my legs, my arms, my abdomen—
Breath was knocked out of my lungs at the pain that spread within me like an unleashed beast. And the hand still on my middle found no flesh, nothing but guts jutting out, and a hole. A hole. I could feel snow if I dipped my fingers in it, could trace the snapped bones and torn blood vessels. I had no voice left to cry with.
I was trashing in place, all of me on the edge of breaking apart as hands reached for me, stabilizing me. Warmth trickled inside of my being, a warmth that was more painful than soothing. A warmth that darted through the agony like an arrow, then dissolved into liquid form, seeping into every inch of me.
It burned, it itched, it made my back arch, and then it was soft. It caressed my wounds, hugged them and—
"Stop,'' I rasped. I knew what the honeydew light flaring from those hands was. Knew what they were doing. That order went unheard. Instead, I was moved until I laid flat on my back, and hands spread all over me. Over my middle, my chaffed ankles and wrists, my ruined foot, my face. I knew who owned the hands that went to my face, one on my eye, the other on the wounds lining my cheeks. Carter's.
I repeated my order, my voice coming out in a broken whisper. "You'll drain."
They would, all of them, from their strongest to their weakest. I was beyond ruined, I was breaking and decaying, and not enough magic in their blood could mend all of these injuries. Not even my brother's.
More magic rained from their hands until lights swallowed them whole as they gave up those pieces of them, as they allowed their strength to evade, to come to me in gentle waves.
None had said a word, none had obeyed. And the only response had been from Sédil—whose hands were on my wrists—as she bent down over my face. Her breaths hit my brow, warm despite the freezing air. "Rest,'' was all she said before she pressed a lingering kiss. The wave of powers that surged with that gesture was electrifying, ravaging, pulling all of my powers away from my grasp. I didn't control my own magic as it swayed away. I wanted it to leave, to drain like flames killed by monstrous winds. My powers twinkled away, going to my brother's hands, the Prince born Cardelyon, under Mayra's request. I didn't deny it.
I let him order it as he could, control what bent down to him. It left me near powerlessness.
Sweet blackness came sliding around my eyes, thick, gentle fingers pulling my eyelids closed. I didn’t fight the delicious serenity it offered as it carried me.
*****
I was still tingling with warmth when consciousness came back to me in waves, my senses slowly unraveling. My mind was clear, unlike all those hours chained and whipped, clear and calm. I didn't force my eyes open yet, tiredness still heavy on my lids, beckoning me for more sleep. I shifted slightly, snuggling on the warm floor, gently pulling my knees to my elbows. Pain still barked at the movement, but it was bearable, a flood compared to the ocean it had been before I blacked out. More warmth slid into me, the floor gingerly shifting beneath me before I felt a hand on my lower back.
It wasn't a floor. I opened my eyes, only to find my face pressed against Carter's chest, his arms around me the way one would hold a newborn—securing yet delicate in a way. The hand on my back was moving, rubbing long, slow circles, magic igniting with it, going deeper than skin. I didn't utter a word, even as I nudged myself up—barely. Just enough to see his face, to lay a hand above his beating heart. I begged it would still do so after Apocalys's death, that my downfall would not be his, too.
We kept on that silence for a while, his hand still moving, my head lightly tucked beneath his chin, my hand over his heart, my legs enclosed with his as though making sure I wouldn't slip away. It made me smile, all of it—the way he held me, the way he had wrapped me in his cloak, the way his mind had still been linked with mine, leaving no need for speaking.
'How does it make you feel,' he whispered down that link when he sensed the tiredness slowly drift away, 'to have an older brother?'
I tilted my head, meeting his oxblood eyes. 'Pretty damn good.'
He smiled, small and weary. But it was real, forged from deep in his heart. We never truly waited to know that the Moon's gift ran in his blood to consider ourselves this way. But he was mine now, brother until the very last breath.
"Where's the rest?" I breathed, taking the place in a sweeping glance. There had been nothing but snow and more snow. No mountains, no rocks past the one we were slightly resting against. Nothing but barren, white lands.
"I kicked them away to gather some food. They're most likely heisting some houses by now.''
"Kicked?"
Dier allowed his body to slide slightly, pulling me with him. "Getting them to leave your side is not as easy a task as what you believe.'' He gave me a long, lingering stare. "Especially that mate of yours.''
Oh.
"You know, then."
"I do.'' A heartbeat of silence echoed between us, a heartbeat that stretched and stretched, only interrupted by our breathing. But Dier's were getting more labored each trickling second, his healing strength still filling me, still searching for all that needed mending. He said nothing, not about the weariness, not about sensing the bond existing between Leon and I that still needed to be claimed, not about the trial or the darkness in his mind that spun a silent sort of terror with its spindly fingers.
I didn't break that silence for long, either. Instead, I raised the hand lying next to my head, and stared at the still healing skin, the crisscrossing injuries now a little more than closing scratches and scars. My hand became my arm, then my limbs, my eye—I could see as clearly as it had always been. Even when I shifted my foot, the pain was manageable, not stretching up and wrecking my nerves.
I didn't dare move and look at my middle, though, only placed a hand over it, to find a makeshift bandage soaked with viscous black. Gingerly, I pressed on where I knew the injury was, and a groan slid past my lips before I could even sense it. It was still unbearably soft. And hollow.
"It is healing.'' I lifted my eyes to Carter, carefully stretching an arm, lifting myself to rest my head on his shoulder. The world span with the action, a fierce headache building. He held the hand still on the bandage—which was made of a torn shirt, I realized. "Slowly, but flesh and bones are forging back in place.''
The relieved sigh came out in waves, and I clasped his hand tighter. It had been his magic there, still tingling next to mine, swirling with it. His, and Leon's and Luthian's.
I closed my eyes, and allowed my aura to spread. Allowed my magic to sweep over the snow and ice, to run in the vast, empty field, to soar the winds and pierce the earths. It trashed and it danced and it expanded in dark and bright, interwoven waves, cresting then crashing, swallowing the world, releasing all that had been bottled within me. Somewhere far below us, I could feel rumbling and shattering, caves being brought down then reformed by the impact of that strength.
It made me all aware of the tiredness, as more and more magic leapt away, the leash holding it all in place almost fully loose. But breathing became easier, even when the sharpness of my senses dulled, even when my body felt how truly deep weariness had settled.
Yet I did not stop, relishing the absence of the continuous begging to be freed, the never-ending hisses and pleas to be let out my powers kept chanting in my blood. They swept over Carter's aura, bracing him and his soul, my own aura reaching his with fingers that caressed it then merged with it.
He welcomed me into him, into his deepest being, into his past and present, into the so many futures extending before him. I'd never been so deep within someone's mind and soul, not even when I had cursed Ûzan. It was utter bareness, it was a welcoming to his most scarred and broken pieces. There was no hiding here, no denying, no escaping.
But I didn't move in there, kept my magic leashed, kept it blind of all the memories, all the shadows. I did not want to know what he hid, did not want to peer in what might hurt him, in what he despised about himself and the world around us, even when he'd given me his full consent. He would come when ready, he would talk, and I would listen. Just like when I would be ready, I knew it without a doubt.
So I pulled away, and all the powers came back to me, nestling in my core, pouring in my blood and bones, in a realm deeper than that. Silent—they were silent now. But I smiled, my fingers playing with Carter's hand, with the remnant of a scar decorating his palm. His eyes gleamed because he knew I picked Sédil's scent woven deep within him, because he knew I understood what that scar was, what oath lay behind it.
"Why haven't I been told of this before?" I slightly raised our hands, nodding at his palm. It had been an oath, and a vow, and a future now tying them. A promise of a future together, once war was over.
The hand on my back had stopped before it shifted to my hair, moving against my scalp in gentle caresses.
"Mayra had actually gone to your rooms''—a squeeze to my hand—''before any other. Even before Némair's. But apparently, you had already left north.'' The lingering stare he gave me said enough.
I made to not pounder on it, and instead said, "She's always been your rock. And you, her seas."
Because they truly were. Him, the warrior lord with a calm face and unbreakable powers beneath his skin. Her, the countess who wore silks and smiles, who radiated femininity when needed, and yet breathed a forever burning vengeance. Both of them elite in their lies, masters of masks, both of them broken and healing. Together.
The thought made me realize something that sent me flying back to the village next to the Fawn Market, to when Nuaira had sat and spoken. "Should the world spin in a different way, with the crown and the throne yours,'' I stared at him, at the spell that hid the real Carter from my eyes, "she would have been your mate."
He did not meet my eyes. And that darkness from before, it came back and spreading like the smoke curled around Blake's boots. It stole a couple of breaths, it steered him away. My heart skipped a beat.
"She would be my mate, should you ever fall."
I couldn't breathe as his words echoed within me, at what laced them, at what his thoughts returned to. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak. Couldn't tell him what he was thinking about was foolish, that it was nothing but a silly nightmare. Because he knew it in his bones and perhaps even deeper that it was not. That it was real.
"Before you left, the vow you made me take in the White Realm,'' he paused and turned, facing me whole, seeing the burning hotness forming in my eyes, ''I'd wanted to take you to the sea past our castle. To its glimmering beach, to show you the world as the sun set. I truly did.''
The hand he'd kept in my hair was on my face, over the tears slowly snaking down. Those tears confirmed enough all that he already knew.
"I wanted to show you the new Ardoria glowing beneath its golden sun, to cherish the jewel we are about to save together. But—" his voice broke. Carter Cardelyon's voice never broke before. Never. "You knew you wouldn't live long enough to see it.''
I tried swallowing my sob. Tried breaking apart the crushing weight pressing down my chest, suffocating me. It was like stones in my lungs. I failed. And cried. Cried, hands fisting his shirt, face pressed against his neck.
"You knew.'' He held me tighter. ''You knew it was a useless oath, a scrap of empty hope. You knew you will…leave.'' Tighter. ''Be there for him, that's what you told me. To be there for your father. But who will be there for me, each time that I see the sunset and think of you? Who will be there for me, when the magic that hums like yours will yearn in the middle of the night to feel you, to hold you? When we will all walk down the throne room and see your light missing, do you think any of us will be able to move on?"
My body shook, my eyes burned.
"You should have told me."
"No." His muscles tightened. "I shouldn't have told Father and Leon, and your king shouldn't have told you either. Perhaps then I would die with all my memories, with all the pain. Perhaps you would forget me then, unharmed now and forever."
His grip was so tight it hurt as my wounds screamed. But I couldn't let go. "It wasn't your father who told me.''
"What?"
He repeated his words again.
"Who then?" Siltheres knew, and Téors, but they would not speak of it without my consent. Even Ramos would not, blood-bound or not.
He did not answer, and the eyes that had been pinned on me drifted to a barely starry night sky above. "Do you remember that time on the boat as we sailed to Nevora and you asked me why I kept my hair long?"
"Who, Carter?" I breathed.
He dodged it once again. "Do you remember what I told you?"
I did, and he waited for my answer, adamantto steer the conversation. "You said it was an oath you took. You said you weren't ready to speak about it yet."
His stares fell back on my face. "Perhaps I was ready back then, but didn't want to burden you with it, that secret buried deep within me. But I've been willing to tell you since a while now what I never shared with the world before.''
Willing to tell you—willing to lay bare a piece of him in front of me. Ramos had told me past didn't treat Carter right—didn't treat any of them right—and he'd told me about the war Arelesia had endured seven years ago. But that was it, ending on the words that Carter never truly spoke about what he'd seen then, what he'd endured.
But his words, about waiting for me to be ready…I didn't know what to make about them. So here we were, in a barren, freezing land so far away from home, Carter's memories pulsing into my mind with a steady rhythm.
I did not stop him.
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What do you think? Comment your thoughts, I would love to read them. Who, do you think, told Carter about Celestia's fate? And what has he been keeping from her?