Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) (19 page)

She looked back up at Typhos. The sound of his heavy breathing was the only noise in the chamber at that moment. She couldn’t even hear her breathing.

“You… you are quite the challenge,” he said slowly and deliberately. “No one has been able to push back on my power quite like you. No one has given me fits like you have. I will admit part of me wants to kill you right now. But that would be so impetuous of me, and so wasteful.”

Celeste slowly brought herself to her feet.

“I am in no state to continue learning about you. I lost my temper and control of myself, and that is no way to show you the benefits of joining me. For that, I apologize.”

Is he actually genuine? He weirdly sounds it.

“We will continue this at a future time. I will tell you more about my ambitions, and perhaps you will come to understand the deal I am offering you. Remember, Celeste, this is not permanent. I can, and eventually will, withdraw my offer, and at that point, your life’s goal will be to die to end your misery. I am patient with you, even if I don’t always show it. But my patience does not last forever.”

He placed a hand on her face that sent chills down her spine, and she quickly pushed it away.

“Such power,” he said in awe. “We will do this again soon.”

He walked out without another word, mercifully keeping Celeste in the reality of her prison.

36

Two weeks, and we’re already comfortably handling three enemies at once.

Crystil looked up at the night sky, the blackness providing her the blank canvas to lay her thoughts out.
I know how to fight groups now. I could take anyone but Typhos. And Cyrus might even be able to stand his ground.

“You love losing yourself in these stars, don’t you?” Cyrus said as Crystil turned back with a warm smile. Cyrus didn’t have the same expression—
he is stressing himself too much. Needs to relax.

“It’s not every day that you wind up a hundred thousand feet closer to the stars,” Crystil said. “You OK?”

Cyrus didn’t bother to give false bravado.

“I feel like something has to have happened to Celeste by now, you know? We don’t know anything about her.”

It’s true. We’re entirely dependent on Erda. If she’s wrong, or she loses that connection…

“Just look at it like this, Cyrus. No news is good news.”

“I get that,” Cyrus said.

“Do you?” Crystil said.

Cyrus sighed as he kicked the ground, perhaps hoping a pebble might appear he could throw. But with the perfectly smooth ground, he gently stubbed his foot into the ground. Crystil looked at his eyes, and even in the darkness, she could see the frustration.
He’s gonna demand to go. And I can’t let him go by himself.

But before he could respond, Erda returned with an ursus.

“A treat for the progress you both have made,” she said warmly. “But before we begin, I want to test one of you.”

She turned to Crystil, who cleared her mind in preparation for whatever challenge came her way.

“Cyrus can combat magic with magic. As you cannot, Crystil, you need to train against powerful Kastori. And today, I want you to fight me.”

No. No. After all we’ve done, if I shift into the battle mindset with you…

Can I look at you the same? I’ll never need to fight you. You’re an ally. If I fight you, and see you as the enemy, see you as a magicologist…

“Fight is the wrong word,” Erda said. “It’s more like practice, because I will not actually try to harm you and you will not attack me.”

The tension in Crystil’s body dissipated as her shoulders relaxed.
It’s still not ideal, but it’ll work.

“What do you want me to do?” Crystil asked.

“Stand near the stairs. Cyrus, you probably won’t want to be in our way.”

Crystil turned before she could get distracted with Cyrus and paced to her destination.
Stay calm. It’s practice. She’s not a magicologist. She’s a trainer. Trainers kick your butt sometimes. It’s supposed to happen.

She faced Erda, who had equipped her mask. Crystil quelled her immediate reaction and placed her sword in the defensive position.

“Deflect and reflect all of the spells I throw your way, Crystil. All of them.”

Crystil nodded and reacted as Erda threw a lightning spell her way. It came at her furiously, like a real lightning strike would, and Crystil barely deflected the bolt over her head. She could feel the heat scorching her forehead as it passed.

Before she could breathe, a fire spell came, one which Crystil had enough time to reflect. But to her disturbing surprise, the flame came right back at her faster than before. She deflected it, but the force knocked her to the ground.

“A reflected spell can be reflected an infinite number of times,” Erda advised. “The spell gains power and speed with every reflection. Keep this in mind for enemies who deliberately set you up with a slow spell, or ones who have preternatural reflexes.”

Crystil nodded as she gripped her sword. An ice spell came, and the two volleyed the spell back and forth until Erda deflected it into space. It felt cold enough to freeze the oceans of Anatolus by the time Erda removed it.

Erda shot a lightning spell, which Crystil reflected, but Erda timed a fire spell to follow that Crystil could not react to in time. It hit her full force and burned her arm.

“Ow!” she yelled as she went to the ground, extinguishing the fire.

Erda ran over quickly, placing her arm on Crystil. Crystil gritted her teeth as the healing process began, a painful but quick procedure.

“Oh, man, you got burned!” Cyrus yelled, but a look from Crystil shut him up. “Sorry.”

Crystil turned back to Erda, and the older woman offered her a hand. It felt good to Crystil that she did not have any reservations about taking the offer, even after battling the Kastori.

“You tend to operate on the rhythm of battle, which is good because that’s how you stay alive. But always be aware of those who go out of it.”

“Huh?” Cyrus said as he walked over, but Crystil needed no further explanation. She understood from years of experience what Erda meant.

“Don’t worry too much,” Erda said silently so Cyrus did not hear. “I set you up to fail with the speed. I am aware of only one other Kastori who can match my speed.”

You don’t need to say who. We know.

Erda waited until Cyrus had walked over to address both of them.

“Both of you have progressed remarkably in the last two weeks. I feel completely confident now that when we go to Monda to rescue your sister, we will succeed as long as Typhos is not there. But before we go—unless I suddenly sense Typhos has left—I recommend you both face your biggest challenge yet.”

Crystil tightened her grip on the sword.
A replica of Typhos?

“Have you sensed anything about Typhos or Celeste before we do that?” Cyrus said.

Erda shook her head.

“Typhos does not seem to have the rage that he had before. I cannot sense Celeste through the darkness that Typhos has cast, but I promise you Typhos would not be this quiet if he had just killed your sister.”

Exactly what I thought.

“Are you two ready? Do you need any rest or food before—”

“No,” Crystil and Cyrus said simultaneously, surprising both of them. It brought a short laugh and a fleeting smile to Erda.

“Then you will descend the stairs behind you. You may have noticed the stairs go down both routes. Back in the ancient times, we used to test Kastori warriors two at a time on this mountain. The mountain’s magic dives into your psyche, senses what you fear the most, and presents that to you in the form of a fight. Don’t ask me what you will fight, because I do not know. It can change for the same person across time. If you emerge from these caves victorious, it means fear will never stop you in battle.”

Cyrus started to speak, but Erda put her hand up to silence him.

“I cannot assist you further or answer any more questions. I have told you all that I know. The rest depends on you and what the magic of the area determines is your weak point.”

I wonder what mine is,
Crystil thought.
I don’t really fear anything.

Seeing no reason to wait, Crystil turned and walked down the first flight of steps. Immediately, the temperature dropped, and the stars in the sky dimmed. The wind accelerated, and the land below became clouded by fog. Crystil couldn’t explain it, since she didn’t have magic, but she felt a pull to her right, down the staircase.
I’m not even Kastori, how…

She turned around, and sure enough, Cyrus faced the left pathway. He glanced at her, and though he tried to hide the fear on his face, his voice gave him away.

“You ready?”

“Always,” Crystil said, trying to pass confidence to him.

“Good. I… I’m a bit worried about what I’ll see. I can already hear voices. They sound like… Celeste. And my father. And you.”

Crystil gulped. She didn’t hear any voices, but she knew if this was what he faced…

“No matter what, fight, Cyrus. This is not going to be the point where we lose, OK?”

Cyrus nodded and Crystil came up and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t quit. Fight.”

A nervous smile spread across his face as his eyes narrowed in on hers. Crystil felt a warm tingle in her stomach.

“I always know when you say something, it’s going to happen. Even if it’s you telling me to leave the ship.”

A loud laugh came as Crystil embraced Cyrus fully. They pulled back after a couple of seconds and locked eyes, their hands on each other, so close, close enough to…

But a cold, loud wind hit them both, and thunder rumbled above them as the planet itself seemed intent on terrorizing both of them.

“Fight,” Crystil said.
I know he will.

“You better too,” Cyrus said.

As if there’s any doubt.

But as she descended the stairs and the howling of the wind turned into a scream, the thunder amplified into a booming echo, and an ominous, gut-twisting feeling consumed her mind, Crystil began to wonder what kind of fight she was about to take on.

37

All of the confidence Cyrus had developed and the stoicism he had embraced vanished with the terrible feeling that crept in him as he descended.

The lightning above him intensified, and bolts struck mere feet away. The wind gusted at such speeds he worried he’d get blown off the stairs. It became impossible to see anything except the next three steps.
It’s like the test is just getting to the cave, not the cave itself.

The voices terrified him the most. At first, the voices were too soft to identify. But by the time he had spoken to Crystil, he could tell who spoke. They were the people he loved, and from different points in his life.

“When does Dad come home, Cyrus?”

“Son, you’re going to need to watch over your sister.”

“When does the war with the magicologists end?”

As he descended, the voices reflected more recent events.

“This is for your own safety. I love you both.”

“NO!”

“Just go to sleep, you’ll wake up, and it’ll all be over.”

“If you take on this devil-may-care attitude, Cyrus, you don’t just hurt yourself. You hurt us. You hurt me. You put your sister in danger.”

“Appreciate what we’ve done, because tonight is as likely a night as any for this to be the end.”

“I’m not you guys. I am the outsider here, the anomaly on this planet. I’m the one who is just clinging on, trying to survive a new world with the aid of an alien race.”

“
Cyrus! Run!”

He reached the entrance of the cave, and the voices went mute. The weather battered him and he walked into the darkness. When he turned around, the entrance had vanished. He no longer heard thunder or the wind outside. He could see himself, but nothing more.

He heard the growl of Calypsius and quickly pulled his sword out, looking for the massive creature. It never appeared.

But the voices resumed. And not all of them were of people he loved.

“Cowards!”

“Dad would be ashamed of you, Cyrus. I’m ashamed of you.”

He cast a fire spell on the sword, hoping it would brighten the cave. But in this void, there was nothing to illuminate.

Then the first object appeared.

A single stair, about twenty feet wide. Cautiously, Cyrus approached. He placed one foot on it, and it held. He stepped up with both feet. More steps appeared. He climbed.

After about twenty steps, the step flattened out to an extended platform. He walked along slowly until he came to a large, wooden door, split down the middle with two identical handles. Those handles displayed the seal of his father’s empire—but with cracks.

Cyrus gulped as he pushed open the doors. He raised his hands as a bright light enveloped him. Slowly, he opened his eyes through his fingers. He was at the entrance to his father’s palace. The garden around him lay in ruins, with dead plants sprawled out everywhere. The ground underneath his feet had several cracks, many which looked like they would destroy the foundation of the palace. The sky glowed a dark red, and lightning struck across the heavens. The air had become warm—too warm, like he was near a massive fire.