Abolisher

Syrene and Azryle emerged from the woods.

Vendrik was standing amidst the area, darting up fires, Renavy at his side, eagerly watching the work of the other Kaerion, when they did. Faolin was in the corner, right outside the cover of the trees, shielding Levsenn as she attired herself after appearing naked from the water.

Maycusen was perched alone at the bank of the river. Vur was at the other end, but the miragist was lost in his own thoughts.

Ferouzeh was studying the flowers—still uncertain whether all this was real.

Only Undesin and Eliver were absent. If they’d been here, they would’ve been drawn by the flames the firebreather had just been sending up. She just hoped Undesin wouldn’t be much scared when found them all missing from the world.

Syrene crossed her arms after scanning the area. “Great, the whole group is here.”

Renavy’s gaze went to the duce. “Look who decided to heed us.”

Syrene flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I did.”

Maycusen scoffed. There was no mistaking the bitterness in it. “Of course. A queen regards others only when she wishes to. Otherwise, all are irrelevant.”

“And what about it?” Syrene’s voice was calm. “You better decide to shut up before the queen decides to snap you in half.”

A wicked smile appeared at Renavy’s mouth as she picked her way to Syrene’s side. And Vendrik picked his to Azryle’s.

He was a quiet one, Vendrik. Faolin had only ever heard merely two words from him, the torments of the past year seemed to have quieted him a bit more.

The prince locked gaze with him when he paused at his side—the concern and his protectiveness towards the firebreather wholly unclothed.

To whatever the prince asked mutely, Vendrik nodded curtly.

Azryle patted his shoulder, before returning his gaze to the group.

Levsenn emerged from the trees behind Faolin, straightening her yellow shirt. “Otsatyas know I’ll never comprehend the human concept of clothing.”

Faolin might have smiled.

They walked to the cluster, where Vur was asking, “So how do we get out of here?”

A look crossed Syrene’s face—Faolin knew it all too well, though she doubted the duce would admit that out loud: she was clueless. She opened her mouth, no doubt to lie or change the subject, but Prince Azryle spoke over her.

“We open a portal.”

“Unless you have Felset’s mejest,” spoke Maycusen, “or some otherworldly power in abundance, may I remind you that what you’re suggesting is impossible.”

Azryle shrugged. Before he brought about his hand. Soon enough, dark fog rounded his fingers.

“Good thing I do happen to have otherworldly power in abundance.”

Everyone drew in a breath. But sharp pain lanced up the vein at Faolin’s temple. She grunted—a dizziness seemed to wash over her.

An arm came around her to stable her when she reeled.

“You okay?” Levsenn asked.

Just as soon, the pain vanished. Her breaths came short and shallow when she straightened. It took a moment for her sight to adjust.

Everyone was staring at her. But it was Azryle who spoke.

“And I’m not the only one who’s been dealt it.” There was knowingness in his eyes when he met her gaze across the area. As if he knew what it felt like to be forced with this curse, to be in danger with your own mejest.

“Let’s suppose you can open the portal,” Renavy mused, “how sure are we that we won’t be abolishing worlds as Felset and her sisters did?”

“Pretty certain, bearing in mind I’m the one who brought you all here.”

Shock rippled through the circle.

“Ah.” Renavy’s eyes seemed to clear, as if suddenly everything made sense.

“You opened the portal?” Maycusen bolted to his feet, fully equipped to shift and bite the prince’s head off.

Abruptly, Syrene slid before Azryle. “Don’t even try that, Maycusen. I doubt anyone here is much fond of you. You will be left in ribbons.” Indeed, everyone round the area was glaring at the Jaguar, fighting stance acquired.

Even Faolin’s.

But Maycusen’s glare remained at the prince, fury burning his amber eyes, jaw working. Azryle, however, remained unbothered.

Ferouzeh had a Tiny Moon perched at her finger. The healer smoothly cut through the silence, sighing. “My, my. Look at the tension.”

The ripper leaned against a tree and drawled, “Unclench, tyke.”

Ferouzeh threw him a look that clearly said, Stop provoking him.

But Azryle only shrugged.

Coolly, Renavy restored the conversation. “Delaya Fairdust is working with Felset, right? Say, she lost something, and she’s desperately on the hunt for it. The person she’s working with might have delayed her plan because of it. Would that mean that the thing that was lost is very important in her partner’s plan?”

She spoke so quickly that Faolin didn’t follow. “What?”

The water-wielder dug in the pocket of her pants and brought about a closed fist.

Faolin’s breaths quickened.

She sucked in a breath when she felt it. The power. Felt it tempering with the Darkness. Felt the Darkness wakening again, slowly picking its way to her mind—

No, no she had to get far from here, from that stone—

She took a step back when the Darkness cornered her eyes, obscured her vision, but she staggered.

“Faolin, are you—”

Levsenn’s voice paused, because she stopped listening. Unearthly hisses claimed her ears, reverberated in her skull—

She felt a hand at her back.

And then, warmth.

Sunlight seemed to have been poured in inside her. Light claimed her eyes—so bright that she could scarcely see as it battled the Darkness.

But she felt it.

Felt her limbs as she regained their control, felt her skin, her body. Felt as the Darkness returned to its folds.

Faolin opened her eyes. She was still panting when she found Ferouzeh at her side, her hand at her back, gushing her with her mejest. She felt sweat at her forehead.

Faolin looked to the group. Renavy was just opening her fist, and everyone staring at it—clueless of what had just happened.

Except Levsenn, who was gazing between Faolin and Ferouzeh with confused sapphire eyes.

But gratitude pierced through Faolin when she looked back at Ferouzeh. The healer had a small smile at her lips—her hand still at Faolin’s back, keeping the Darkness at bay.

She moved her gaze to the group.

And found Vur staring at her, blue eyes narrowed as he did the calculations, gazing between the stone now bare in Renavy’s hand and Faolin. He hadn’t the faintest idea about the Darkness, and she had planned to keep it that way.

But now the miragist pinned her with questioning gaze.

Faolin looked away.

“What in Saqa is that …” Syrene was cringing back from the stone, as if she felt it in her own mejest.

Azryle declared, “The key.”

Pause.

Faolin watched as color drained from Syrene’s face.

“What?” Faolin muttered, her lips dry.

“They would have needed Drothiker to open the portal. With that stone, they don’t.” Azryle looked at Faolin. “Delaya has trapped your darkness in that stone with her own and Felset’s. Powerful enough to open the portal.”

“And how do you know all that, Prince?” Levsenn asked. “How do you know that’s a key at all?”

Azryle seemed to consider. Then—

He stepped closer to Renavy—to the stone—Syrene stepped back to give him access. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate.

Even though the duce was almost entirely hidden by the prince, Faolin caught as he grazed his knuckles against hers. As if he were about to be lost as she were his anchor to sanity. As if the touch a reminder.

Once again, dark fog appeared at his fingers.

At first, nothing happened. But then—

Faolin watched as the fog swirled around itself, shaping into a stake, and stretched to the stone as if to stab it. And when they touched …

A stillness claimed the area.

The trees, the river, the grass beneath them, paused. The very air stilled. And Azryle …

There was a thrust of breath, and he stilled with the world. His eyes rolled back.

“Azryle …” Syrene warned.

Even Maycusen seemed to grow troubled when there was no response. Vendrik seemed to be battling a stirring panic as he straightened off the tree. But then—

Immediately, Azryle gripped Syrene’s hand and sucked in another deep breath, as if yanked himself out of some fetal trance. He fell to his knees, wholly vulnerable. Locks of his hair fell in his face—a shadow came over his eyes. His shoulders sagged.

Broken—he looked broken.

As if the fog and the stone had shredded his will to pieces.

“That stone isn’t the only key Felset has had.” He didn’t lift his bowed head as he said it. His voice was shaking. But he didn’t continue, left the rest to assumptions.

But for the first time in a while, Faolin tasted fear.

✰✰✰✰✰

The night didn’t give way to dawn.

The sky remained dark for hours and hours—that they’d spent planning, and mustering whatever everyone had collected and coming to myriad conclusions, none too delightful.

Apparently Maycusen didn’t know much about Delaya Fairdust and her relations to Kefaas Petsov. He gave them details about the other two Kaerions—their background history and all, which was of no use, considering Felset had already turned them into her pawns as she had Deisn.

By now they only knew Erauth was coming and they must stop Felset. That opening the portal in Lavestia—which was situated atop all the worlds—might result in destruction of the entire universe. That the key could close all the Gates once and for all, but it might also plague Lavestia like Rukrasit.

Since they had the Key, and were trapped in a wholly different world, Felset could not open the portal in Lavestia. But she was somehow bringing baeselk here, using humans as hosts.

The process was painfully slow unless she opened the portal.

Eventually, everyone had fallen asleep.

A few slept against the trees, others fell asleep while stargazing.

Syrene was awake. She was rounding the area, releasing her mejest in bits to make sure no danger loomed.

This was a group of tormented souls trying to find a moment of peace—herself involved. What brought them together was the promise of that peace offered by another struggling soul burdened by the riddles of their world.

As much as she hated it, even as she was aware these people were predatory strangers that could rip her throat right this moment, Faolin didn’t feel as endangered with them as she should. She wasn’t as vigilant.

She was perched against a tree by the river when her duce approached her. She slid down beside her and sighed. “Why are you not asleep?” Syrene whispered, eyes on the glittered river.

“Why aren’t you?”

She shrugged, barely moving her shoulders. “Fair enough.”

“Doesn’t Czar need beauty sleep?”

Her lips curled in a small smile. “No, my beauty comes without all those mortal struggles.”

At that, Faolin snorted.

After a moment of silence, Syrene said, “You were silent today.”

“Am I usually chatty?”

“No, but you weren’t even threatening anyone today. Had me thinking you’re ill.”

Faolin managed a grin. “I’ve used all those on Ferouzeh today, let me recharge.”

But Syrene only stared at her. “What is it, Faolin?” She looked away. “I know we aren’t quite friends, and I straight up shut you off a year ago—”

“I’d completely forgotten about that.” Faolin crossed her arms. “If you must know, it’d hurt like a bitch.”

Syrene laughed. “Yeah, right. We were getting out of Jegvr. I’m pretty sure friendships were the least of our worries.”

It was true—Faolin had barely even thought on it.

Silence descended upon them. Faolin heaved out a breath. She was staring at the river when she spoke.

“You know this whole time I thought, how horrible could Felset be? I didn’t grasp why we’re supposed to be so frightened of her. I thought if we all raided her Glass Palace and killed her, it’s not like she would survive us?” She huffed out a mirthless laugh. “This whole time I thought your prince was like an impenetrable wall. Unbreakable. He’s a ripper—he’s immune to feelings, to weakness. But then … I saw that vulnerability today, and …”

She looked to Syrene. Her face was woeful.

“If Felset can do that to a ripper—to one of the most powerful beings to exist on this planet …” She shook her head, swallowing. “I’m not sure if we can survive this.”

Syrene rested her head against the tree, and heaved out a long breath. She didn’t speak for moments.

Then, “When I first met Azryle,” she whispered, “I thought he was a monster. Saqa, I didn’t even think him human. Everyone sees him like that—because he carries himself like that. He wants to be seen as a monster, so they won’t see his affliction. He keeps monstrosity as a barrier around himself, when he’s a man broken through and through.”

Her gaze drifted to Faolin. “But Azryle fought, Faolin, that’s how he survived. He brought down that barrier of monstrosity today for everyone to see—not so we fear Felset, but so we know that no matter how bad the things get, there’s always a hope of survival.”

Syrene reached out and took her hand. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, Faolin. I need you to keep that up for a while longer—then we’ll start living. I promise.”

✰✰✰✰✰

Faolin remained by the water.

Syrene went to lay down beside Azryle an hour ago, and fell asleep. As if feeling her presence even in his sleep, his arm came around her. Sometime later, her head came to rest on his chest.

Faolin glanced to where Ferouzeh was dozed off across the river. And looked away.

“Hey.”

She looked over her shoulder to find Vur approaching her, rubbing at his eyes, yawning.

Faolin looked back at the water, just as he came beside her and crouched.

“Why are you awake?” he asked.

She didn’t reply, only shrugged.

“Faolin—”

“Don’t start.”

He fell silent. But only for a moment.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Did the Darkness never really go away …?”

She had to dig her nails in her palms to keep herself from snapping at him. She’d never told him that it went away—it was his own Abyss-damned assumption. Hadn’t even bothered asking her.

“You should have told us, Faolin.”

“Why?” she hissed. “So you can express your disgust in myriad different ways?”

He flinched. “Faolin—”

“What, Vur?” She tried to keep her voice as low as she could. “You never once asked me about it before. You assumed I’m some monster who disgusts you so much. You want to know what it’s doing to me? It kills me every day. There’s a constant noise in my ears, my damned head. You want to know if all those kills were by me? Yes, they were. The Darkness feeds on Death, I like feeding it because that shuts it up long enough for me to breathe. You want to know why I’m not sleeping? I haven’t slept in the past year, Vur. I cannot sleep because of the noise. I do not feel sleepy, or hungry, or thirsty, or human. Or something alive.”

Silence.

Furious, Faolin bolted to her feet and vanished into the forest.