USING THE HOOD of my purple coat to cover my face, I started walking down the congested streets of Lantra's capital. In the City of Dreams the days always started before the sun had fully risen, even before the moon had faded. So when the darkness finally parted, everyone was already prepared for their day ahead, not procrastinating, not laying in their beds half-asleep and half-awake, consumed by sleepiness and the unwanted sense of laziness.
The streets were teeming.
In the Gap World, only drunkards were walking around the streets so early in the morning, swaying, staggering and laughing at the wild memories of their night. Here, everything was different; everything seemed to be better.
A cool breeze touched my cheeks, and I willed my heart to beat steadily.
Even though we were in the beginning of winter, borders of flowers still decorated the streets—daisies, tulips, roses and sunflowers. Garlands of orchids and asters with scattered splashes of glitter had been placed around the doors of the bookshops, the cafés and the art galleries, as if there wasn't another season in this universe but spring.
I wanted to believe that the ground trembled at my presence, simply because I was dramatic like that. They would kill me because of my magic, but I could kill them with my magic. I wouldn't do that. But still, it felt good to know my powers, my limits and my abilities; to use them in my advantage and for a greater cause. I wasn't adept at doing so, I knew that. I'd only recently learned how to control the few elements of nature that boiled in my veins. I couldn't fight armies with them, butcher, deceive. To control my fears was to control my magic, that was what I knew. In a world full of experienced magic-wielders I would have no chance of survival. But here I could last longer, thrive even. For now, I was just heading to my parents' house.
Men on horses kept passing next to me, going to the ocean, going to fish. A few traveling merchants had just arrived at their usual spots and had started preparing their selling products for the day. Their calculating eyes were on me as I padded across the pavement. I didn't want to think of the rumors that would have been spread around the city about my unjustified disappearance. The streets must have been filled with cruel whispers about the woman with magic who had also magically disappeared. I wouldn't deal with them now. My reputation had never been the greatest anyway.
As for my parents, they would be angry and mad at me for going away without leaving a note to soothe their fears. But I hoped agony had overpowered their fury and they would be happy to see me again. As for Josh, he would be melancholic, even devasted for losing his muse. I didn't care about him, though.
Faster. I needed to go home faster. Before someone recognized me, before someone noticed my green eyes.
With wavering breaths but unfaltering steps, I was about to stride toward the tree-lined path that would get me sooner to my destination, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, urging me to halt.
Icy rage made my stomach tighten for the way I'd have to further delay my return to my family—the only thing that had made me want to come back here. I shook my head to clear away all the irrational fears about getting caught and being murdered before I managed to say my farewell to my parents. Yet all the annoyance and dread disappeared, along with my menacing look, when a warm, kind and familiar voice came from somewhere behind me.
"Velian!"
My blood froze in my veins at the sound, at the instant recognition.
I knew that voice. I knew who was behind me.
Turning around, I didn't expect to find anyone else but my mom, alive and smiling, crushing into my hug as I stood there, my eyes wide open from the encounter.
My mom.
The wind swirled around us and I hugged her tighter, bringing her closer.
I'd missed her. I'd been missing her every day since I'd left. Even in the good days, a part of me was still withered because of her absence.
She was the first one to pull back and break the embrace to take a better look at me. I did the same.
She looked flawless, as always. Her calf-length dress was in the colors of power and dignity—black and white—and she'd chosen a gray blazer over it. Her manicured nails and her red lips would never suggest that this woman had had her daughter missing. But I could see past the dazzling appearance. She'd gained weight, as if all the worries hadn't only crowded her mind but her body, as well. She'd always been thin, even thinner than me, so the few extra pounds made her appear healthier. That was why no one noticed when she gained weight; when something was wrong.
"I can't believe it," she said, her voice a low whisper.
Holding my hands, she looked at me from head to toe, over and over again, her eyes filled not with tears, but with happiness.
"It can't be real," she murmured and put me into her embrace once again.
"It is real," I said. "I'm here."
We stayed there for a while, ignoring everyone's eyes on us.
Taking a step back, we remained silent for a long minute, just staring at each other. A glimmer of grief flashed across her face, as if all of a sudden, she'd recalled the way all these days she hadn't been able to talk to me had felt like. She still was the one to break the quietness first.
"Denfer delivered to me your letters. He also came here earlier to inform me about your return," she said.
I blinked. "What—" I started, but she interrupted me, placing a hand on my shoulder, her gaze never abandoning my face.
He'd only had an hour or so between the moment I'd told him about my coming here and the moment we'd gone to the lighthouse. I didn't know that his magic was so great to allow him to go back and forth between places in an hour, opening and closing portals in the blink of an eye. He must have come here when I'd been searching for Cloudien and I'd left him in the backyard, training. At least that was where I'd thought he was, what I'd thought he was doing.
I kept my mouth shut, as she explained, "He told me you were coming today, so I waited for you at the shore. You two looked lovely together."
At the sound of her last words I tried to hide my chuckle. I failed.
"Let's go home. We have a lot to talk about," she offered, as the wind brought a strand of her golden hair over her forehead. I nodded and started walking next to her because . . . because there was nowhere else to go but home.
She knew I was Hell's Leader. She knew everything about the Gap World and the deal Denfer had made with the Devil. I'd written all of that in my letters and I was so glad that she'd actually received them.
For everything that was about to happen, I wasn't ready. But I wouldn't think of all the worst-case scenarios now. Not when they hadn't happened yet.
🔱
Seated in the living room, I leaned back in my chair as I observed the place. Not much had drastically changed since the last time I'd been here. The same ancient maps of imaginary places and worlds hung on the walls, alongside the few paintings of my adolescence and my mindless efforts to become something I would never be. The simple beige curtains were opened, letting the sun cast its rays upon us and point out the dust on the black piano that was placed beneath the window.
"Magic is tricky. You should know that," Mom began, gulping down the rest of her tea. "And now that you've had a real taste of it, I thought I should tell you some things I wish I knew when I first started toying with it, some things I learned the hard way."
Gripping the arms of my chair, I tried to process what she'd just told me. I'd always thought about the possibility of her having magic. It would explain how I'd inherited it.
"What—what kind of magic do you possess? And how did you even get it?" I asked, interrupting her. I could learn everything she wanted me to know later, when we had nothing left to do and nothing left to talk about. For now, I had questions and I hoped she had answers.
Lowering her stare to the wooden table, she sighed through her nose. "As far as I know," she said, her eyes on me now, "My father had some sort of magic. He used to have dreams about Lantra's past and future, he was like a living library, constantly gaining more knowledge and insight about our world."
Something like a fortune-teller. Like Cloudien.
"He was considered insane by many, especially when he started gaining money by telling desperate people their future. He used cards and crystals, and everything forbidden. They executed him when I was ten, so I don't know more about him. But that's how magic runs in our family. As for me, I'm blessed with ice."
Her blue eyes flickered as she gave me a smile and I was tempted to ask her if she had green eyes, like me, or brown, maybe gray even. I'd always wanted to know if that dull blue was fake or real. And now I knew the answer.
We'd been here for almost an hour and neither of us had talked about the night I'd disappeared, why I'd done that and everything else I'd mentioned in my letters. That was good because my time here was limited, and I didn't need to waste it on mindless conversations about things that we both knew the hard truth about.
"What does the world know about me?" I moved on to my next question.
Offering me a weak smile, she poured herseld a glass of orange juice and spoke even more quietly than before. "They did find something wrong with your blood. It glowed. They put it under the sun for hours, for days, and it glowed. But still they couldn't be sure about it without you being there. That's when things got worse."
My brows rose a bit at the sound of that, but I didn't give myself enough time to worry about what was going to be revealed next. Instead, I crossed my hands and waited.
"Josh had the fantastic idea to write a poem about his feelings regarding your disappearance," she started, and I held my breath. "He presented it in a book event and . . . there was a line about the color of your eyes."
I didn't say anything. I let her continue.
"There are rumors around the city. And that's understandable. They knew you were his girlfriend up until you disappeared from the infirmary. And they know that this poem must have been about you. So, first of all, put your contacts on," she almost commanded me. "Do not let them take advantage of you."
They wouldn't.
The clock chimed ten in the morning, and I let out a long breath.
"Do you have the poem?"
She instantly shook her head, as if it wasn't the right time for this to happen, as if she knew the way I would react. I willed myself into stillness and fought the urge to stand up, go to his house and demand explanations.
"I do," she finally replied.
"I want to read it," I hissed, opening my palm in front of her.
I watched her as she placed a piece of paper from her blazer's pocket on the wooden table, her movements slow, careful. I took it in my hands.
I would let my body be carried away by the waters of the cruelest river, not knowing if the end was near.
I would let myself fall from that cliff behind us, not knowing if the wind had my back.
I would choose to die over and over again.
I would do anything just to find you again. I know that I can't.
Forever hunting my dreams, the sight of your green eyes, embellished with scattered splashes of honey brown.
I didn't know how many times I'd read the last stanza, trying to comprehend what Josh had done. If I had one chance at not being discovered, since the healers hadn't been completely sure about my magic's existence, Josh had ruined it, shattered it and shred it into amillion pieces.
But that was Josh. He'd use anything just to get to the top. He'd reveal my most hidden and sacred secret just to attract the recognition he craved. And what a better way to do that than write a poem about discovering and uncovering something forbidden?
"Why would he do that, Velian? You two were together for so long. I know you were in a difficult phase before you left, but what he did was cruel. Why?" she asked, her eyes surprisingly dark.
I straightened, readying myself to recite the story that had sealed my fate, the story that had never escaped my lips and I'd never thought it would. But if my own mother believed I'd done something so bad to Josh and this poem was his revenge for my wicked actions, I had to prove her wrong. Because these were the last moments we would share together, and I wanted her to know the truth about me.
"I-I always knew there was something odd in me," I started, staring at anything else but her face. "Something wicked and powerful and unexplainable that begged me to let it explode every time I was afraid of something. The older I got, the harder it was to ignore it. When I was seventeen, I couldn't hold it trapped anymore. I . . . I just couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. One day I went to the Forest of Traitors, removed the contacts and . . . let it all out. I made flames grow from the grass, then rain fall from the sky to stop the fire. And when I unleashed it, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop myself. I don't know if the city would exist today, if it hadn't been for Josh who saw me, who saw everything I did and didn't run away but came closer."
My words came out trembling. From fear, from wrath, from agony, I didn't know.
"That was nice of him, though. Wasn't it?" she asked.
I poured myself another glass of water in a mindless effort to keep my hands from shaking. My heart pounded faster now.
"No," I breathed. "He hadn't come to help me. I mean he did, because he helped me calm down and not burn the whole forest. But—but he also told me that I had two options. I could either be his girlfriend, his muse, his lover and he would keep this secret between us, or decline and he would reveal everything."
"Was he so desperate to be in a relationship?" she asked. The same question I'd asked him that day.
My fingers tightened around the cold glass. I smiled, defeated. "He told me that if you were an artist and had a relationship, people would care more about you and you would get more recognition. I knew from the very beginning that the salvation he offered me was a trap. All those years, he'd just been waiting for the perfect moment to reveal everything through his art and get the fame he so much wanted. That's why I stayed with him for so long. Because he only needed an excuse and my life was over."
Mom nodded like she understood, and I knew she did. But after that conversation was over, I wasn't fully present in whatever we were talking about. Maybe it was the fact that Josh had finally struck, or the fact that I was about to die in a few days and leave Lantra behind me forever, leave it a hot mess of hidden magic-wielders that were afraid of their own shadows.
I couldn't do something to change it. But there was one last thing I could do.
🔱
I waited until the sky had turned into the deepest shade of blue and stars accompanied the streetlamps to their ageless job of lighting up the darkness. When my parents had both fallen asleep, I ran out of the house with silent steps and heavy books in my hands. I'd asked Denfer when I'd first found him in the Land of Greatness, if he could go to Lantra and give some letters to my mother along with two books about magic I'd gotten from his library—the ones about the three powers of the universe and Lantra's past. He'd said yes.
So I headed to Vircus's house.
He lived alone, away from his father—the governor—in a simple mansion that only his close friends knew about. I left the books on the doormat, knocked on the door three times and hid behind a near tree. I waited until he opened the door, grabbed the books and went back inside.
I didn't know if he had magic or not. But I knew that he'd never agreed with his father and all the laws about magic. I knew that he had gone away from his parents' house because he couldn't stand his father's lies about equality. And I knew that Vircus was Lantra's only chance. Because he had influence, because he had power and he'd never denied it. He'd never pretended to be like us, but at the same time he'd never used his power against us. In almost silent words and secret conversations, he'd told me his opinions about magic.
He found it interesting, enchanting and life-changing. He'd talked about healers and people who could make flowers blossom, people who could give life and bring beauty to this world. He was a dreamer. And he was a rebel. He was everything his father wasn't, and he had enough power to make a change, to start a change.
Or at least to try to do something like that.
🔱🔱