Master Arcanist [Chps 10-12]

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CHAPTER TEN

TWO PILLARS OF LIGHT

Vjorn touched his large snout to Zaixs’s hand. At first, I thought they would bond, but when nothing happened, I remembered what Terrakona had told me. He had wanted to bond outside, where the light could see us.

Sure enough, Vjorn took his nose away and then snorted. “Come. The oldest source of light must be a witness to our bonding.” With swift and powerful movements, Vjorn turned and bounded away.

Left alone with Illia, Nicholin, and Zaxis, I held my breath and waited. No one said anything for a short moment. Then Illia teleported to Zaxis’s side, her glittery reappearance smoother and more ethereal than normal.

Illia slowly wrapped her arms around Zaxis. He was stiff, and it wasn’t until Nicholin wrapped his paws around his neck did he turn and return their embrace. I wanted to go over and join them—to say something profound or comforting—but I couldn’t think of anything.

I waited on the sidelines, remembering how Luthair’s death had shaken me.

What could I say to ease Zaxis’s loss?

Nothing. There had been no words for me—just as there were no words for Zaxis.

But knowing that I had the Frith Guild had helped me through the moment. And I was, perhaps, the only person who could truly understand Zaxis’s situation. I had to be there for him. Because whenever push came to shove, Zaxis had always been there for me.

I walked across the charred stone of the fenris wolf’s lair until I reached everyone else. Zaxis and Illia ended their embrace, and Zaxis turned to me, his eyes sunken and his breathing shallow. He seemed tired, or perhaps mentally exhausted.

“Where do you think Odion went?” Zaxis asked, much to my surprise.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Probably not far.”

“What about Devlin? And Evianna? Are they coming back?”

Nicholin’s fur stood on end. “I told you! The lair ate them. That’s what happened to Illia and I back at the world serpent’s tree. And then, after Volke bonded, we were released!”

“Will that happen?” Zaxis asked me. “You’re sure?”

I nodded once. “I hope so.” If I had lost Evianna, I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself.

Illia placed a gentle hand on Zaxis’s shoulder. “We should go.”

Together, we walked out of the lair, our footfalls echoing in the dark and icy rooms. The illusions were gone—the forests vanished—and the wolves who had hounded us were no longer in the caves. I couldn’t feel their tremors, and I wondered if the fenris wolf had taken them with him.

The walk was quiet, but Illia held Zaxis’s hand the entire trek, occasionally giving him a concerned sidelong glance.

When we reached the exit, I eagerly headed for the afternoon light. The warmth of the outside was what I craved. The lairs of the god-creatures were basically gauntlets of trials and tribulations, and I was happy to put it behind us.

Terrakona, Adelgis, Mesos, and Vjorn waited for us outside.

No Odion, or his eldrin, the massive twilight dragon.

I headed straight for my giant serpent. His scales shimmered in the midafternoon light.

“What happened to King Odion?” I asked.

“He left, Warlord.”

“Do you know where?”

The gargantuan serpent shook his head once. Then he leaned down and poked me with his snout. His cold scales were a mild comfort. I hugged him and patted his nose. When Terrakona’s black tongue forked out, it tickled my side.

Odion… I wished I had said something more to him. Perhaps he was back with the other members of the Frith Guild? He couldn’t have gone far…

Zaxis went straight for the giant wolf. Illia hung back, along with her eldrin.

Mesos, the massive roc, turned her eagle-like head toward the entrance of the lair. Then she glanced at me, her golden feathers ruffled.

“He’ll return,” I said. “Your arcanist is safe.”

She returned her piercing gaze to the lair’s entrance. I wondered how long she would wait there for Devlin. A day? A month? A full year? How long had they been bonded? Devlin seemed older than most arcanists I knew. Perhaps they had been together for centuries.

I didn’t think he would ever give her up.

Zaxis held up my hand. “I’m ready to bond.” With icy confidence in his voice, he said, “Let’s do this. Let’s hunt down all magical corruption and put an end to once and for all.”

Vjorn huffed and replied with a canine smile. Then he lowered his head, the chains on his body clinking as the tip of his nose touched Zaxis’s palm.

“As the oldest source of light as our witness, I intend to intertwine our destinies.”

A wave of magic washed over the area, disturbing the canopy of leaves over the forest, and washing dirt up into the air. I shielded my eyes, but Terrakona quickly wrapped a part of his body around Illia and me, protecting us from the sheer power that rolled off of the fenris wolf.

Then the sun disappeared.

I had seen this thrice before. Once when I had bonded to Terrakona, once when Theasin had bonded to the soul forge, and once over the ocean after the war. The sun melted into the sky, as if it had never existed, and everything was thrown into utter darkness.

A silvery light rose up from the fenris wolf and shot into the sky, creating a pillar so brilliant and majestic, it stole my breath. And as I stared, I was reminded of something…

The Pillar on the Isle of Ruma, the one with the steps that circled around… This pillar of light seemed so similar. It made me wonder, had the structure on my home island been made to look like this? Was it a reference to the bonding of the first god-arcanists?

I wished I knew someone I could ask.

Then the pillar of silvery light disappeared. The sun returned to its position in the sky, blanketing the world in warm, forgiving light. For half a second, the glow of the sun reminded me of Forsythe.

Terrakona removed his serpentine body. Illia and I walked over to Zaxis. He tugged at his salamander armor. Some of it had been cut by Odion’s blade—enough that he was able to yank it down to expose his chest.

A god-arcanist mark had appeared. Just like mine, the twelve-pointed star was over his heart. The mark spiraled outward, forming a wolf and chains over his shoulder, down his arm, and across his ribs. The wolf had its fangs exposed and its claws extended, and the fragmentation of snowflakes coursed the edge of his marking.

Zaxis touched the chains on his shoulder, and then ran a hand over the faded etching on his forehead. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the weight of his loss.

“Brother,” Vjorn said as he turned his canine head to face Terrakona. “We have never met, but the bonds of time have brought us together. It must be fate.”

Terrakona didn’t reply. He stayed close to me, his irises thin lines that watched all of the wolf’s movements.

Adelgis cleared his throat, reminding me of his presence. I turned around, and he strode forward. He had a regal sophistication about him—he didn’t seem bothered by the turn of events, or even surprised by who came out and who didn’t.

“You needn’t worry,” Adelgis said as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Devlin and Evianna are heading out now.”

I forced myself to smile. “Thank you.”

“I already told the Frith Guild of the outcome. Guildmaster Eventide is happy Zaxis won the magi cross.”

“You could see that?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s all Zaxis has been thinking about since he arrived… And the fenris wolf doesn’t like that I can hear his thoughts. He thinks it’s a mistake—and I’m violating his sovereign authority.”

“Okay…” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “What do you want me to do about that?”

“Well, I think he might try to attack me,” Adelgis said with a nervous laugh. He moved a bit closer to my side. “Would you mind telling him that my ability to read his thoughts stems from my mastery of ethereal whelk magic and abyssal leech tampering? He’ll probably listen to you.”

Sure enough, when I glanced over at the massive wolf, he was glaring at Adelgis, his fangs visible.

“I’ll talk to him,” I muttered.

“Thank you, Volke.”

Before I could wander over and explain everything, the sky went black again.

Everyone gasped, and Adelgis even grabbed hold of my arm.

“Another one,” Terrakona said to me, his telepathy filled with disbelief.

Another pillar of light filled the sky. This one wasn’t silvery, but white. It had a glorious glow that drew everyone’s attention. I could see it through the opening in the forest canopy as easily as I could see the sun or moon handing in a clear sky.

The light was emanating from somewhere distant, but I couldn’t estimate the exact location. I wasn’t familiar with the Argo Empire, nor was I certain which direction I was facing. I had gotten so turned around while in the fenris wolf lair, that I barely remembered where we were.

“The sky titan,” Vjorn growled.

Someone in the Second Ascension had become a god-arcanist as well.

“What is a sky titan?” Illia asked, her one eye glued to the shining light.

“A gigantic bird with no form,”Terrakona replied. “It is a creature of pure air, unable to be touched—not even by light.”

“It’s invisible,” Adelgis murmured.

The pillar of light vanished. Then the sun returned, and everything was as it should be. The afternoon glow brought the forest to life a second time.

That was when Adelgis released me. He offered a nervous chuckle as his only explanation.

“Invisible?” I asked. “And unable to be touched?”

“Incorporeal.” Adelgis brushed his long black hair over his shoulder. “That means nothing solid can touch it. Much like the wind, it’s both there, and not really there. A creature of powerful magics.”

Vjorn lowered his head and growled. “It is one of the mightiest god-creatures. How can you kill the wind? There is no way.”

“It can be killed,” Zaxis said, his voice rusty. He glanced up, no mirth or joking in his hard-set expression. “Because its arcanist isn’t incorporeal.”

That was much darker than I expected for Zaxis. If we killed the god-arcanist, their eldrin would die. Very few people knew that—only god-arcanists and anyone they had told.

I understood Zaxis’s sentiment. Whoever was working with the Second Ascension was likely someone like Theasin. A foul fiend we needed to do away with in order to protect the peace and order of the world.

Before we could discuss anything else on the matter, both Devlin and Evianna emerged from the depths of the fenris wolf’s lair. They panted and smiled as they reached the light.

“Volke,” Evianna said as she rushed to my side. Then she threw her arms around me. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to fail like that.”

“It’s okay,” I said as I hugged her back. “Everything is fine, now.”

Devlin went to his roc, and his bird cooed a happy welcome. She leaned her beak down, and Devlin scratched around the sides. His clothes were shredded, and he no longer had his tricorn cap—but somehow his thin beard was still in order. That was a mystery I would never solve.

“Did you miss me?” Devlin asked as he held his eldrin close. “I’m sorry, girl. I got careless.”

Evianna released me and then placed her fists on her hips. “Who bonded with—” She caught her breath when she glanced over at Zaxis. For a prolonged moment, she said nothing. Then she murmured, “But Forsythe…”

I shook my head, hoping she wouldn’t say anything too loud. Right now wasn’t the time.

“Guildmaster Eventide wants us to return,” Adelgis suddenly said, breaking me away from my thoughts. He turned in the direction of Thronehold. “Queen Ladislava wants to know what’s happening. And Master Zelfree says he wants Illia’s assistance with questioning the Dread Pirate Calisto.”

Illia’s one eye went wide. A second later, she reined in her shock and controlled her face to hide away any emotions. “All right. We should return.”

While speaking with the dread pirate would surely be terrible, I was already hating the thought of speaking with the queen. She had wanted someone from the Argo Empire to bond with the fenris wolf…

But we couldn’t undo that now.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE FALLEN PIRATE

Terrakona lowered his head, and I took hold of his crystal mane and lifted myself up. Evianna joined me, and I offered her a smile as she positioned herself by my side. Captain Devlin went for his roc, Mesos, but this time we didn’t have Odion or his majestic twilight dragon…

They were gone. And even when I glanced around, searching the forest as far as my gaze allowed, I saw nothing.

“Devlin,” I called out. “Do you see Odion? Or his eldrin?”

The captain glanced around, his sight enhanced by roc magic. It was a passive ability—an eagle-like sight. The longer he searched, the more I feared we may never see Odion or his dragon again.

“I think he’s traveling in the darkness,” Devlin finally stated. “The birds of the forest keep taking flight, but I’m not seeing anything. When he surfaces from the shadows, I think he’s startling them.”

“Do you know which direction he’s heading?”

“I’d say north. But I might be wrong.”

My chest tightened. I gave thought to chasing him, but I knew he’d try to evade me. Perhaps someone he couldn’t avoid would be able to talk some sense into him.

Which was why I turned my gaze to Adelgis.

He stared up at me, his eyebrow raised. “I doubt I can convince him to return.”

“Please try, Adelgis,” I said. “His dragon doesn’t have much longer before it’s corrupted by the arcane plague. It’ll become dread form, and then…”

I didn’t finish the sentence. Adelgis didn’t need me to. He simply replied with a single, slow nod, his expression pensive. A part of me blamed myself for the outcome. As a god-arcanist, it was my duty to usher humanity into a new age free of this magical corruption.

And while we had accomplished something great today, I needed to return to Thronehold deal with the Second Ascension, even if it was just drawing battle plans. I would never be able to eradicate the plague with them constantly hounding me.

Zaxis must’ve seen something in my expression and felt the same. He jogged over to his wolf, Vjorn, and then grabbed the chains like a rope and hoisted himself onto the wolf’s back. The mighty creature shook his head and allowed Zaxis to get comfortable.

“C’mon,” Zaxis said, his teeth gritted. “The Second Ascension won’t escape us now that we’re both god-arcanist. I mastered fire and healing. I can master ice and death. We’re going to bring the entire Second Ascension to its knees.”

I had never heard him quite so angry before. He wasn’t even yelling—his dark tone conveyed everything.

Illia teleported onto the back of the wolf. It was a large beast, capable of holding two people, but I wondered if it bothered the god-creature to be used as a horse.

Hopefully not, since I had been riding around on Terrakona for quite some time now.

I patted his serpentine head.

“Warlord?” he asked me through telepathy.

“Take us to Thronehold,” I said. “If you don’t mind.”

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” Adelgis said to me.

“That’s fine.”

My eldrin turned and headed for the capital of the Argo Empire. As he moved through the forest, and then through the fields that surrounded the city, the very terrain moved to accommodate him. The ground cracked, the trees parted, and then everything stitched themselves back together afterward.

I watched the ground with mild fascination the entire trek, trying desperately not to dwell on Odion and the sickness running through his veins.

***

Thronehold pulsed with life and reconstruction.

The war that had been fought here was still apparent in the scars of the city, but the citizens were quick to pivot. Wood and stone were being brought in by the cartload, and arcanists were using their magics to help with the repairs. Gargoyle arcanists were manipulating stone to fix the walls, and sylph arcanists controlled the winds to allow for easier work.

Before we entered the city, however, I tapped Terrakona on the head and pointed to the ground. My eldrin let me off just near the western gates of the city. Evianna dove into the shadows and emerged near my side, her knightmare magic making me smile.

The fenris wolf arrived shortly afterward, a cold mist surrounding his very presence. Illia teleported off, a puff of silver popping into existence both when she disappeared and when she reappeared on my other side.

Zaxis leaned and stared down at me from the back of his black wolf.

“I’m going to find Guildmaster Eventide and then speak with the queen,” he said, no emotion in his voice.

Vjorn’s ears twitched, but the god-creature offered no comment.

“Stay with Eventide,” I said. “Once she’s been informed of everything that’s happened, perhaps we can speak to the queen together.”

Zaxis half-shrugged. “It has to be dealt with.”

“You should recover before speaking to anyone of importance. You look terrible.” I motioned to his half-shredded armor and slumped shoulders. “Trust me. Just give yourself time. The queen can wait. Even if she’s angry, there’s little we can do about the bonding now. Vjorn won’t bond with anyone else—we’ll just have to make sure she knows that.”

Zaxis could probably handle speaking to the queen, but I still wanted to make sure he was okay. Eventide would know what to do, especially when it came to Zaxis’s health. Well, Liet, would know what to do. She had asked me to start calling her by her first name, but I just couldn’t bring myself to think that way for very long. I had always known her as my guildmaster.

Zaxis pointed to the city, and his wolf walked to the gates. The soldiers, and the will-o-wisp arcanists, stood aside, their gasps and mutterings so audible, I heard them from fifty feet away.

After a long sigh, Illia turned to me. “Why aren’t you going with him?”

“I could ask you the same question,” I said.

“I need to speak with Master Zelfree about Calisto.”

I nodded once. “That’s why I wanted to be with you. Just in case you needed me.”

Illia stared at me for a long moment, her one eye searching my gaze. She obviously didn’t need me to stay with her. She had fought Calisto not too long ago, during the fight just outside of Thronehold. Calisto only lived because she hadn’t dealt the final blow—she killed his crewmate, and helped Zelfree kill his eldrin… But something about Calisto’s tired and defeated response had stayed her hand.

Illia fidgeted with her fingers as her gaze drifted to the dirt.

Nicholin shifted around on her shoulder, poking his head through her wavy hair and then wrinkling his nose. “We don’t have to do this,” he said. “Zelfree said he would handle everything, if you wanted.”

I almost laughed.

Zelfree hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill Calisto, either. At least with him, I knew why. They had been longtime friends before Calisto had earned himself the title of Dread Pirate. In Zelfree’s mind, Calisto was still Lynus, a boy who had grown up with him—a man Zelfree had once referred to as something more than a friend.

The winds around Thronehold remained still due to magic. I wished I had something to think about other than the situation.

Evianna placed a hand on my shoulder, offering quiet reassurances. She brushed back her white hair and then smiled up at me. I couldn’t help but return the gesture.

“Volke,” Illia muttered. “Apparently, Calisto knows a lot about the Second Ascension.”

“I know.”

“Even without Adelgis, he gave up all his secrets when questioned. He’s refusing to eat or drink anything, and according to Master Zelfree, he barely sleeps. He just sits in his cell in the Iron Dungeon and does nothing.”

I crossed my arms and nodded along with her words. “Okay.”

“Do you think we should just let him rot away underground?” She finally managed to bring her gaze to me. “Or…”

“We should execute him.” I said the words as a gut reaction to the question, but I probably responded too quickly. I took a moment to mull it over. “His crimes are vast, and I don’t trust him. But… I did promise Zelfree we wouldn’t.”

Although, I knew Zelfree wanted to speak with Illia on the matter. If they both decided, it would happen. I wished they would, but I wouldn’t stop them from finding their own solution.

Illia stared at Nicholin, and then stroked his white and silver fur. “I had dreamt of this moment for a long time,” she whispered. “But… nothing is as I imagined it.”

Nicholin puffed up his fur. “I imagine we’d be fighting him on the edge of a cliff, and then we’d just be so much better and skilled and powerful, that we’d push him to the edge and then knock him off and then throw a boulder on him.” He took a breath, and his fur went down. “But then I remembered Hellion flew, so that fantasy didn’t work very long.”

“I had just imagined him fighting until the very end,” Illia said, her voice so quiet, I almost didn’t hear it. “So… I asked Adelgis to show me some of his memories…”

What a terrible idea.

I had no idea what kind of memories the Dread Pirate Calisto would have, but none of them could be pleasant.

“I want to speak with him,” Illia finally said. “I don’t think I’ll be happy until…”

I waited for the end, but it never came. Perhaps she wanted some sort of resolution that could only come through truly understanding the man—I didn’t know. But whatever her reason, I still wanted to be with her.

“I’ll go with you,” I said.

Illia half-smiled. “Okay.” Then she held out her hand. “I’d like that, Volke. I think you and Gravekeeper William are the only ones I really want to have with me for this.”

“Hey,” Nicholin barked.

“Sorry. You know I always want you around.”

He swished his tail. “That’s good. Because you’re not getting rid of me. I’m here for the long haul.”

I placed my hand on Illia’s. Then I gave Evianna a glance over my shoulder. She motioned for me to go, and I figured she would go find the rest of the Frith Guild, but I didn’t ask. When I turned to Terrakona, he tilted his massive head.

“I will be here,” he telepathically said. “You needn’t worry about me.”

Luthair would sometimes say that, and now look at what had happened.

But I didn’t say that part aloud. Instead, I allowed Illia to teleport us both away from the walls of Thronehold. Her magic carried me along—it was an odd sensation. When I had stepped through the darkness, I had been in control, but with Illia, it was like I was being dragged behind a boat.

We appeared somewhere in the city, and I caught my breath, silver glitter in my eyes. Then we teleported again. And again. The changing sights and new surroundings left me disorientated. First, we were in an alleyway. Then we appeared on a rooftop. Then near a bakery.

When we arrived at the Justice District, it took me a long moment to recognize our surroundings. The courtyards, shrubs, and fountains were all decimated. The fighting had been so intense, not even the decorations were left unscathed.

Nicholin rubbed at his face. “There’s still time to turn back, you know.”

“I’m not the kind of person who backs down from a challenge.” Illia petted her eldrin. “Let’s go.”

We turned and headed for the courthouse and dungeon. I had never been to the Iron Dungeon, but I knew it was a location meant for mortals—non-arcanists. Unlike the other dungeons that were built with nullstone to prevent magic use, the Iron Dungeon was built half underground mostly with brick, iron, and stone.

It didn’t take us long to reach the front gate. A single will-o-wisp arcanist stood at the door, a lantern on his hip. The lantern danced with green lights—a rare wisp. The man, dressed in half-leather and half-metal armor, tipped his helmet to us and then motioned us through.

I suspected he didn’t recognize me, because the man mostly paid attention to Illia’s forehead and eldrin. The fact that a god-arcanists mark was on the chest instead of the forehead hadn’t yet become common knowledge.

It didn’t matter. I didn’t need a parade to enter the dungeon.

The front door was a heavy slab of iron twisted to resemble hundreds of birds. Their feathers and bodies blended together, and in clear letters made from their legs, read the words, “Iron Justice.” I assumed it meant imprisonment, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

I shoved the door open, though it took considerable effort, and then I stepped inside with my sister. The smell of sweat and fear permeated the area. The bricks would never be free of this stench, even if they were removed from the building.

Together, Illia and I strode to the first gate that led into the main hallway. The jail keepers bowed deep and opened the doors for us.

We walked the long hall, and I was surprised that Nicholin had nothing to say.

When I glanced over, I noticed he remained hidden in Illia’s hair. Was he afraid? Or just anxious?

Then we came to a door that led down. Illia took the steps two at a time, and I followed behind her. Once in the actual dungeon, with the damp atmosphere and aroma of mold mixing with the fear, I knew there was nowhere left to go.

Sure enough, Master Zelfree stood in the long hall between jail cells.

Everette. Just like with the guildmaster, I tried to remember to use his first name, but it was difficult for me.

He was just as tall as me, but he wore his exhaustion like a second shirt. His coat—long enough to reach his calves—was just as dark as the dungeon around us. Zelfree kept his hair cut short, and trimmed neatly on the sides, but nothing else about him seemed cared for. He carried scruff on his chin, and his hands were unsteady as he slipped them into his pockets.

His appearance worried me. It reminded me too much of how he had been when I first met him, weighed down by several lifetimes’ worth of mistakes and tragedy.

A blank star was on his forehead—the mark of a mimic arcanist.

His eldrin, Traces, stood on the stone floor next to his legs, her sleek gray fur somehow still shimmery, even in the shadows of the dungeon. Her eyes—one pink, one tan—scanned us as we approached.

Mimics were odd creatures, but I had grown to love Traces. She offered a purr as I drew near, her feline grace ever on display, even after a fierce battle.

“Volke, Illia,” Master Zelfree said, his voice rusty.

“Zaxis bonded to the fenris wolf,” I said, unable to stop myself from just blurting the news.

Zelfree nodded once. “All right.”

Then silence settled between us. I thought Zelfree would be more excited, but the man didn’t seem to have the energy.

In the far cell, the last one in the row, sat the Dread Pirate Calisto.

CHAPTER TWELVE

GUILTY CONSCIOUS

Calisto looked like he had been through the abyssal hells and back.

The man’s copper hair, matted with dirt and sweat, clung to his head and face. I had never seen skin as pale and wan as his. Although he was muscular—practically built like a heroic statue—the man sat hunched on his cell bench, both elbows on his knees, giving him more of a fragile and exhausted appearance. When he took breaths, they were shallow and short.

I had no love for the man, but even I felt the dour aura he exuded. His fingers occasionally twitched, and I couldn’t tell if that was due to the injuries Illia had given during the battle, or if it resulted from the lack of care Calisto had been giving himself.

The arcanist mark on his forehead no longer glowed…

It was a faded etching of a seven-pointed star, once interwoven with a manticore. Calisto had been one of the few people I had known to ever achieve a true form with their eldrin, and it was sad knowing that his eldrin was gone.

The keepers of the Iron Dungeon had allowed Calisto a pair of rough trousers and a dirty tunic. That was it. No belt, no boots—what he had barely fit right.

Calisto kept his dead gaze on the floor. He might as well have been a corpse for all he reacted to us.

Before I could say anything, Zelfree stepped in front of me and Illia, blocking our view of the dread pirate.

“I’ve been speaking with Lynus for a long while,” Zelfree muttered. He took a deep breath and then brushed back his short hair. “And he asked to speak to Illia again.”

“What?” I balked. “Why?”

Illia folded her arms across her chest. Nicholin did the same, though his tiny ferret arms didn’t convey the same kind of defensive posture that Illia had.

“I apologize,” Zelfree said. “I know you said you didn’t want to see him much, Illia. If you’d rather leave, that’s fine. No one is going to make you speak to him.”

“Why does he want to speak to her again?” I asked.

“When I was speaking to him about the Second Ascension, Lynus mentioned something about rizzel. We got onto a tangent, and he asked to speak to Illia. He said he left some things unsaid.”

Calisto had been Illia’s tormenter since she had been a small child. He had taken her eye, her parents, and even when we had fought aboard his ship, the Third Abyss, he had taunted her into fighting. Would he be cruel to her now?

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” I said.

Illia shook her head. “I’ve already spoken with him. There’s nothing he can do to me now. He’s lost his magic.”

“You’re not afraid he might try to goad you into something?”

“I can handle it.” She gently touched her eyepatch. “I’m very familiar with his style.” Then Illia lowered her hand. “Besides, I want to hear what he has to say.”

I still didn’t like it. What did Calisto have to say to her? There was nothing to discuss. Was he going to apologize? A few words wouldn’t change anything. They wouldn’t bring back Illia’s eye or resurrect her parents. What could Calisto possibly bring up that would matter?

But it wasn’t my decision.

Illia hardened her expression and straightened her shoulders. Then she strode down the long corridor, the sound of her bootsteps echoing off the iron bars and stone bricks. Zelfree lingered behind, but I kept her pace and accompanied her to the far back cell.

Calisto didn’t look up.

There was a long moment where no one said anything. Fortunately, Nicholin never found himself at a loss for words.

“You called us here,” he said with a slight squeak. He puffed up his chest. “What do you want? If you need help finding words, I’ve got a couple choice ones specially for you.”

Illia placed her hand on Nicholin’s furry forehead. “It’s okay. Just give him a minute.”

“All right,” he murmured. “I’ll let him off easy. For you.”

Despite the friendly gestures and soft-spoken words, Calisto still didn’t bother to glance up. I almost wanted yell at him—jerk him awake from his grim daydreams—but that wouldn’t be helpful. Instead, I waited along with my sister.

When Calisto finally exhaled, I tensed. The ice in my veins gave me the same feeling I had in a fight.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Calisto asked, his voice rustier than Zelfree’s.

He never really looked at us. His gaze was lifted, but he never seemed to focus on anything, not even the stone bricks of the wall.

Illia narrowed her eye. “That’s why you asked me here?”

“I’ve given you all the information you’ve wanted.” Calisto shifted his weight around on the rickety jail bench. The wood board creaked under his weight. “I’m done with waiting.”

“You’ve got places to go?” Nicholin quipped.

“I’ve got a Death Lord to meet.”

According to legend, the Death Lords ruled over the third level of the abyssal hells. Only lost souls made their way to that level—souls who had failed to do anything meaningful with their life, or who had failed at their ultimate goal and duty. It was a place of misery, and the Death Lords were said to do all sorts of terrible things to the souls confined there.

If I remembered correctly… One of the Death Lords was named Calisto, which was probably how our Calisto got his name. Pirates often took a new name when they took to the seas, and Lynuswasn’t particularly imposing.

“Just end this already,” Calisto muttered.

“Speaking with Zelfree didn’t help?” Illia asked.

Calisto finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. The black marks under his eyes told a long, sleepless story. “What?”

“Speaking to Zelfree—to Everette—that didn’t help? You didn’t get everything you wanted off your chest?”

“What’s it matter to you?” Calisto asked, curiosity in his rusty voice.

Illia took in a deep breath and then exhaled, her confidence coming with her next breath. Nicholin remained still and quiet, obviously giving her the space she needed to speak.

“You don’t know me very well,” Illia began, her words slow and careful, “but I lived most of my life on a small island. Ever since… you took my eye… I had nightmares about being helpless, and unable to do what was needed to save the people I loved. I thought it was because youstill roamed the oceans.”

Calisto listened intently, never looking away. Never even blinking.

“But I spoke with Master Zelfree many times.” Illia closed her eye. “And I learned… he felt the same way. Not because he had lost an eye, but because he, too, had lost a lot in his life. His family. His friend. His lover. We’ve got a lot in common. Maybe too many things in common. And he helped me understand that strength doesn’t come in the form of a single moment—or a single revenge kill—it comes from years of dedication, determination, and inner growth that has nothing to do with you.”

With a mild amount of disinterest, Calisto shrugged. “Do I need to hear your monologue, lass? I just don’t want to live anymore.”

“Everett wants you to live,” Illia stated, a slight amount of anger in her voice. “And that’s not because he needs you to in order to feel forgiven, or because he feels he owes you something. It’s because he knows you weren’t given many chances in your life.” She took another step closer to the bars of the jail cell. “He wants to do what’s right. He wants you to atone for what you’ve done. He doesn’t want to see you take the coward’s way out.”

Calisto half-chuckled and allowed his gaze to wander back to the brick floor. “I’ve bad news for you, lass. Either you kill me, and finally get some sort of revenge, or the stink of dungeon will do it, and no one will feel very satisfied.”

“You don’t feel guilty about what you’ve done?” Illia asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Calisto didn’t reply.

“You never think back to your villainy and regret your actions?”

Again, he said nothing.

“There aren’t any words that linger in your thoughts and memories? Something you wish you could take back? You did everything without remorse?”

“And what if I did?” Calisto growled. He clenched his fists. “Could we cut to the chase, then?”

I wasn’t sure what Illia wanted Calisto to say here. Would he admit feeling guilty? I doubted it. I doubted he felt any sort of remorse whatsoever.

“Well, you can lie to me, but I know the truth.” Illia stepped away from the jail cell. “When we last fought… I saw the look on your face. It was regret. It stuck with me.” She rubbed her face, especially around her eye.

“You were seeing things, lass.”

“I wasn’t. And it made me realize that perhaps Everett was right.”

Calisto shook his head, sweat dripping off the ends of his grimy hair. “I’m made of as much trash as the next guy.”

“Everett wants to help you,” Illia said as she walked away from the jailcell. “And I’ve made my peace. I won’t be the one to kill you.”

I turned and jogged to catch up with Illia as she strode away.

Calisto didn’t reply. He returned his gaze to the floor in front of him, never straightening his posture. I doubted her words had much impact, but it was clear from his voice and words that he had been confused by Illia’s declarations.

Even I was sort of confused.

“You sure about this?” I whispered.

She shot me a narrow glare, her lips pursed. “I said what I had to. It… didn’t come out like I had practiced.” She half-shrugged. “But I still got most of the words out. And I already discussed this with Master Zelfree.”

“What did you discuss with me?” Zelfree asked as we drew near.

Illia and I stopped in our tracks.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Nothing.”

“Calisto was just asking for death,” she casually said.

Zelfree nodded once. “I know. He’s asked me to do it a few times.”

That news didn’t sit right with me. Was the man wrecked by regret? Could he really help us face the Second Ascension? He wasn’t even an arcanist anymore. What could he possibly do for us besides provide information?

“Volke,” Zelfree said. “I’m sorry to trouble you with this.”

“Don’t worry. I know it’s important to both you and Illia. If you believe Calisto can be useful—”

“Lynus.”

I caught my breath, nodded once, and then started again. “If you think Lynus can be useful, then we’ll keep him around. But if he even looks like he’s going to be trouble—or harm any innocent—I’ll take action.”

No one said anything, but Zelfree eventually nodded.

“He won’t cause problems.” Zelfree motioned to the corridor. “I’m going to stay here and speak with him a bit longer.”

“Don’t stay too long.” I exhaled, nearly choking on the stink that Calisto had mentioned. “I was hoping to speak to you about Zaxis.”

“All right. Later tonight.”

Illia walked by, her hair shaking with Nicholin’s movements across her shoulders. “We should go, Volke. Let’s have Zelfree handle the rest. We need to see the queen.”