Dragon Empress

Chapter 28

Keriya lifted her hands to her lips and drank. Though her hands could only hold so much, the more she tilted her head back to indulge, the more water cascaded down to her.

Her thirst slaked, she shoved herself to her feet. Wind whisked through the canyon, kicking clouds of reddish dust against her. She was still n***d—that wouldn’t do.

After a brief inner debate as to what clothes she desired, she settled on her brown wool dress, the one she’d worn in Aeria. Fabric billowed around her, cloaking her form. Her long sleeves whipped in the wind, her skirt swirled around her legs. Aurelas’s belt sat comfortably on her hips.

She couldn’t say why she’d chosen the ugly, scratchy old frock. The girl who’d worn this dress had been a useless outcast.

Maybe that was precisely the reason she wanted to wear it now.

Grinning, Keriya turned her attention to her body. She erased the scars she’d acquired over the years. She actually felt the scar on her chest vanish, the one Necrovar had given her in the Limbus. It lifted a burden she had not known she’d been carrying.

She laughed again as power surged through her. Mounds of earth leapt at her command, like so many dolphins jumping in the sea. Water burst into existence, thundering in a rush. With a flick of her wrists, she sent everything rocketing skywards, herself included.

Rock rose in spires. Blue-gray clouds massed overhead. A bolt of lightning forked past her floating form. Though the electricity seemed feral, Keriya was in complete control. She sensed every thread, every molecule in the sky, and bent the lightning to her will.

Fire erupted around her. She spun like a dancer and the fire followed, forming into a whip-like stream. Remembering her lessons in Jidaeln, Keriya concentrated on shortening the wavelength of her fire-threads. The fire grew white hot, then turned blue, then violet.

Voracious flames threatened to disintegrate her dress, but she forbade it. She pointed down, and the inferno shot toward the blossoming towers of rock. The fire melted the earth, sculpting it.

More, more.

Yes, this power, this feeling—this was what she wanted. What she’d always wanted.

She gave herself over to the thrill of wielding and succumbed to desire.

At her command, the sculpted earth changed from rock to creamy white marble. From air and shadow she created lampposts, imbuing them with merry light. Trees sprouted, becoming giant in a heartbeat. Butterflies emerged, coalescing from shadows. Cobblestone walkways paved themselves, and marble turned to glass as Keriya floated higher.

With a snap of her fingers, the lightning ceased. The fire sizzled out. The wind died, the storm clouds parted, and Keriya allowed a dazzling golden sunset to illuminate her work.

It was a perfect, life-size model of Noryk.

She touched down on a balcony of the Imperial Palace. Her dress swirled and her sleek hair settled around her shoulders, shimmering with sunlight.

“Impressive.”

In her euphoria, she’d almost forgotten Shivnath. Keriya turned to see the Dragon Empress perched on the ramparts above, eyeing one of the insects that hovered near her emerald snout.

“You created butterflies. A nice touch.”

Shivnath’s words cleared Keriya’s haze of power-l**t and focused her thoughts on something brilliant. The idea filled her with terrifying, wonderful potential.

She had but to close her eyes and sink into the deepest crevices of her broken soul to see him. The time that separated them melted away. She spun shining threads into existence, sculpting them with the utmost care. This wasn’t wielding with wanton abandon, this was precision. Science. Art.

From the fabric of the universe, she wove a masterpiece. Space itself was her loom, and as a form took shape before her, tears sprang again to her glowing eyes. A chorus of joy sang within her, peaking in a mighty crescendo when, at last, she stitched her final magicthread.

“Thorion,” she whispered.

He was just as she remembered: lithe body, gleaming bronze scales. The sunset drenched him with golden light. Wings, delicate yet powerful, stirred at his sides. Floppy ears, which he hadn’t yet grown into, flicked to and fro.

“Thorion.” The word tore her throat. “You’re back.”

She raised her arms and stumbled toward her beloved dragon-child. Just before she reached him, she paused. His red-violet eyes, glowing with the reflection of wielded valemagic, were unfocused. No spark of life or recognition registered in his distant gaze.

“It is not him.” Shivnath’s voice drifted down, settling on her skin like winter frost. “He is empty, because you do not have his full soul.”

Keriya twitched. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from Thorion.

“Your spellwork is flawless,” said Shivnath, “but you have knitted a hollow pillow with no filling. I told you once that the threads of a soul can never be unraveled—neither can they be replicated. A soul is a unique thing. Since Necrovar owns half of Thorion’s soul, you will not be able to resurrect him.”

Keriya’s knees shook. All the power in the universe was at her disposal, yet she couldn’t save her drackling.

She turned away from the false Thorion, her stomach twisting. Seeing him brought everything boiling to the surface: anger, grief, guilt. The memory of his death rose from the shadowed depths where she’d hidden it.

She shoved that memory aside, unwilling to face it.

“Take heart, Keriya. This is not a failure. You have shown mastery of almost every aspect of valemagic.”

“Almost?” She shot a bitter glare at the god. “Look around, Shivnath. What haven’t I done?”

“You created buildings and a thunderstorm and an earthquake and a sunset and the perfect likeness of a dragon.” Shivnath swept one massive forepaw in an arc, taking it all in. “But valemagic is about more than creation. Am I right, Master Kvlaudium?”

“You are, Empress Shivnath.”

Keriya spun at the sound. Viran had appeared behind her, breathtaking in a royal blue tunic and dark leggings. His long cloak billowed in the breeze that whispered through the palace towers.

“I thought we were still in the Broken Vale,” said Keriya, gaping at him. “How is he here?”

“All things are possible through my magic,” Shivnath replied loftily.

“Did you create this, Keriya?” said Viran. “I’m so proud of you.”

He approached her, but Keriya shrank away from his embrace.

“What’s the matter?” asked Shivnath.

“Why is he here?”

“I didn’t ask you to wield so you could make an art project.” The god’s tone turned Keriya’s heart to ice. “I needed to test your abilities, yes, but one ability in particular. The only one you have not used.”

“Keriya? What’s going on?”

Panic roared through Keriya. She wheeled around and saw Fletcher. Roxanne stood beside him, looking bewildered.

“Where are we?” she said, addressing a point over Keriya’s shoulder. Not wanting to turn—but feeling compelled to do so—Keriya glanced behind her and saw Effrax and Seba. Effrax shrugged, at a loss.

“You know what you must do, Keriya,” said Shivnath.

“No.” Keriya spun on the spot to stare at her friends. They surrounded her, caging her in.

“You knew it would come to this. Destruction is the final chapter. Your birthright, your destiny.”

“I can’t!”

“You must. This is one of the hardest spells you will ever perform. I need to know you’ll be able to do it when the time comes.”

Keriya stumbled sideways, sick with horror. Her gaze slid past Viran, skimmed over the false Thorion, and came to rest on Shivnath. The god’s pupils had once more been swallowed by the glowing darkness of her eyes.

“I refuse!”

“Think before you speak.” Shivnath’s roar shook the palace. “This is not a decision that can be made lightly, but it is a decision you must make now. Do you have the power to do this?”

“It’s not a question of power—”

“Then what is it?”

“I won’t destroy them!”

Her friends glanced worriedly at each other. They couldn’t be her friends, not truly—they were fake, like Thorion. Replicas stuffed with throwaway souls. Even knowing this, Keriya balked at Shivnath’s abhorrent command.

“Why? Because you love them?” the Dragon Empress sneered. “So you gained ultimate power not to save the world, but to use however you please, is that right?”

“That’s not what—”

“That’s exactly what you’ve done.” Shivnath’s looming figure seemed to grow, her shadow stretching across the heavens. “You want to enforce your personal view of good and evil, to control the world and its creatures as the Shadow Lord does.”

“I’m not like him—”

“Are you not?” Shivnath lowered her neck, craning down to Keriya’s level. “You just tried to create a shadowbeast. You seek to bend the universe to your liking, but the universe does not work that way. If you wield selfishly, then you will follow in the footsteps of every failed hero who has come before you.”

Keriya clamped shaking hands over her mouth and bit back a sob. Visions whirled through her at light speed. She saw Fletcher, Roxanne, and Seba on the slope of Mount Arax, burning in the lava. She saw Effrax torn apart by shadowbeasts.

Old nightmares, rearing their ugly heads in the face of a burgeoning trauma.

“I have lived a hundred-thousand years,” Shivnath continued, her wrath tumbling onto Keriya like an avalanche. “I have seen peasants and princes, demons and dragons, servants and sorcerers use magic for their own depraved desires. That is why the balance was destroyed. That is what allowed Valemagic’s dark half to grow strong.”

“I know,” Keriya whispered, tears beading on her lashes.

“Your human heart is weak. You imprisoned Necrovar, shunting the problem aside instead of dealing with it.”

“I did that to save the world, because I wasn’t ready—”

“Then do this now, if you want to prove yourself!” The dragon’s voice flayed Keriya’s soul—a twelfth ordeal. “If you can’t, everything you fought for will be meaningless. Everyone who died for you will have died in vain. Do you think it matters whether you look into the eyes of Viran, or Necrovar, or a demon, or a butterfly?”

Shivnath evaporated the hovering butterflies. Keriya felt an echo of loss in her soul.

“Give up your petty mortal attachments,” spat Shivnath, spreading her wings and blotting out the last remnants of sunlight. “If you don’t have the courage to do what needs to be done, then I chose the wrong person, and you are worthless to me.”

Keriya was weeping. She compared the pain she felt now to the pain she’d felt while the eleven magics had ravaged her. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

In fact, she thought this might win.

She turned her back on Shivnath, her body shaking. Slowly, she approached Viran.

“Keriya,” he whispered, “what’s wrong?”

Keriya glanced over her shoulder at Shivnath one last time. The Dragon Empress crouched on the marble ramparts, waiting. Her eyes were two black holes, devouring light and hope.

“I’m sorry,” Keriya breathed through trembling lips.

She reached for Viran and placed her hands on his chest.

And she destroyed him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN“No one wants to be the villain of their own story.”

~ Amanzi Caisu, Twelfth Age

Viran did not die like the butterfly or the birds.

He died messily, perhaps due to Keriya’s inexperience—or her unwillingness to complete the spell. He burst in an explosion of gore. Flecks of blood coated her face and dress. She flinched, gritting her teeth as she ripped the soul from his body. It shriveled and dissipated into nothing.

Before her friends could scream or run for safety, Keriya struck. She pointed at each of them in turn, and they died the same way Viran had. Crimson splattered her from every angle. Her hands had no scars to speak of, but now they were stained with blood.

She whirled on the false Thorion, confronting him last. He hadn’t moved since she’d created him. His eyes remained glassy and distant, taunting her to the bitter end.