Soul of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 1)

THIRTEEN

Not even Kyra's imagination could have prepared her for the destruction that greeted her as she came out of the tunnel into the castle. It was horrible; so horrible, in fact, every sight on a turn elicited a whimper from her.

Kyra had initially gone on with the escape group after Lucian’s abrupt return back to the castle to help Ghalador. Her thoughts were only that she followed the seer’s orders. She trusted him and he seemed wise enough to be trusted.

However, she couldn’t help but worry about Lucian also. He was brave, and he did seem capable enough to handle himself in a fight; he had more than proven that to her on the day they met. But able to handle himself or not, the truth still remained that the odds of the wizards winning the battle against Tristan of Begermen was low. The warlord had an army on his side, one who had qualms taking the lives of a few wizards. And even more than that, he had magic also and that more than put Ghalador and the others at a disadvantage.

But it wasn’t until Kyra had arrived at the valley on the other side of the tunnel that she finally decided to come back after Lucian. Ghalador needed her help as much as he needed Lucian’s; she was the Soul of magic after all, a being whose entire existence was supposed to be based on helping the wizards survive. And although it was no secret that she didn’t even know how go about that mission or even how to control the power to begin with, she had never felt more sure of contributing her quota to a cause.

Unfortunately, Kyra was too late as the battle had already finished and the wizards destroyed when she arrived. She remembered what Ghalador had said about leaders standing with their people and kicked herself. She had deserted her people in their time of need; that was the exact opposite of what the High wizards had created the Soul of magic, created her, to do. She was no leader, she was just a girl with much more power than she could control.

Just then, Kyra saw a figure outside in the compound and she ran out. It was Ghalador. The seer was struggling to move with an arrow firmly embedded in his chest.

"Forgive me, Ghalador," she said as she ran to meet him, holding on to him as if her life depended on it. “I came too late.” But Ghalador didn't seem to hear her as his eyes kept darting around, unable to focus; he was delirious.

All of a sudden, he looked up at her and his eyes lit up in recognition. "Fara!" he gasped, touching her cheeks in reverence. "Forgive me, my lady. I have failed."

"No, it's me," she corrected him as she shook his body to clear his head. “It’s Kyra.”

But the seer still couldn’t focus. "Help me, my lady. They have him," he said again and Kyra looked down to see that he was holding Lucian's sword Lionclaw tightly in his grip. "Those who decimated the home of your people have taken my son. Help me save him, I beg you."

Kyra didn't have another chance to tell Ghalador that she wasn't Fara as he suddenly went numb in her hands and she could only watch as the life went out of his eyes; he was dead.

Suddenly, a strange feeling rose up within her. It was dark, and heavy, and choking; almost as if a mountain had been placed over her soul. She screamed to dispel the feeling and a lightning bolt shot across the sky. She screamed again and the lightning shot again; this time, twice more powerful. Dark clouds covered the sky and the sun was firmly hidden behind to cast a inky black shadow on the earth; the wind picking up speed to a violent level.

Just then, Kyra fell to the ground and rain began to fall in torrents as tears streamed down her face. Everywhere the drops fell, both rain and tears, plants began grow out of the ground; weaving their way up to flowering and maturity almost immediately as they had exposed themselves to the air. Then, she screamed again and a boom emanated from all around her; blowing trees to smithereens as far as the eye could see. The rain increased as she cried once again and the ground was as covered in green grass like a meadow in all directions.

The strange energy inside Kyra suddenly began to wane and she fell onto the grass; she was exhausted. Almost as if in response, everything calmed at that moment. The clouds were lifted and the lightning ceased, the rain slowed down to a drizzle and all around, a gentle breeze blew the flower petals in a rhythm. The earth spoke to Kyra as she panted on the ground, whispering words of comfort, and of encouragement, and of rest to her soul. And finally listening to the sacred words passed between her ears, she closed her eyes and did the one thing she never thought was possible after the experience she’d had; she slept.

***

It was dark, very dark. But Kyra had no fear as she walked. She was in a tunnel, that much was clear from the hollow feeling around. And of course, she could see; in fact, she couldn’t just see, she could feel everything around her in great details. From the tiny footsteps of the ants that travelled deep within the rocks to the heavy crashes of a waterfall very far from where she stood, Kyra could feel them all. She wasn’t just in the tunnel, she was a part of a tunnel, a part of everything that was in and around it.

Just then, she reached a cave at the end of the tunnel and stopped. The cave was lit, decorated like a person’s room; and it was. It belonged to Tristan of Begermen and he was in it. But not only him. On the wall and chained in a standing position was Lucian; he looked pretty beaten.

"Tell me where the wizards are,” said the warlord to Lucian as he held a dagger in front of him.

But the blonde-haired boy only laughed. "You'll have better luck killing me, Tristan,” he returned.

Just then, the warlord suddenly turned and looked at Kyra; almost like he could see her. “It’s his choice,” he said in her direction before he raised the dagger and stabbed Lucian in the chest.

Kyra screamed as her eyes jerked open, coming face to face with the bright morning sun which caused her to close her eyes as abruptly as she had opened them. The ground was very wet, she realized. It soaked her deeply to the body.

Her head was throbbing as she summoned enough strength to push herself to her feet but stopped short. The previously stony ground was covered with plants. In fact, the whole castle had been overrun by plants and flowers, giving it a look as if it hadn't been lived in for ages. But in spite of the aged look, the castle was actually more beautiful than before. It was green and smelled of flowers, and butterflies and birds flew all around to give it a sense of paradise. It really was beautiful and Kyra smiled; until she remembered what had transpired just a few hours ago, that is. The castle wasn’t a paradise. It was the site where her people had been murdered by an enemy that still wasn’t satisfied, Kyra had no doubt that that was what her dream was about. It was premonition of what Tristan of Begermen wanted, and what he was willing to do to get it; unless she did something about it.

"Well Kyra, it's about time you became that leader Ghalador talked about," she said to herself. "It's about time you did that which you were destined for." And that was exactly what she planned to do.

Unfortunately, she suddenly realized that she had no idea which way to go. Sure, she had seen the tunnel, and the cave, and what was to come; but she hadn’t seen the location. And as if by an unseen force, the dream suddenly came back to her but this time more expansive. She knew exactly where to go.

And saying a quick prayer for the fallen wizards just as wizard custom demanded, she armed herself with Lionclaw and began her journey north; towards the cave and the man that was holding her friend captive. She was the Soul of magic and she was prepared to stand for her people, no matter what it took.