Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) (30 page)

“More than you would wanna know,” Crystil said.

Cyrus laughed and turned back at everyone. Celeste and Emperor Orthran were sharing a tight, emotional embrace that tugged at Crystil’s stomach.

I just wish I got a reunion like that. As good as Cyrus is…

He’s not Dyson.

And he never will be. I need to accept that. It won’t prevent me from seeing where things could go.

“Forgive me for asking, Crystil, but when you see that…”

“Yes,” she said, preempting his question. “Absolutely. A hundred percent, I wish I still had that.”

A long pause came as they watched Erda rise and join the father and daughter in conversation. It became apparent from afar that Celeste and Erda were discussing their relationship. It also became clear that the conversation was not bitter—
never is with Celeste
.

“Do you think you could still have it?”

We’re about to have that talk, aren’t we
, she thought as her stomach fluttered.

“I do. I do. I still love Dyson and always will, but I also have room for more in here,” she said, tapping her chest.

Then she asked the question she knew would get Cyrus to open up.

“Why?”

The quick sigh and knowing smile came over his face told Crystil, and they’d get it out now.

“It should come as no surprise to you, Crystil, that I find you fascinating and a wonderful woman,” he said.
It doesn’t. You’re a guy, you’re blatant.
“And there’s a large part of me—no, really, all of me—wants to charm you and see where we could go. I admit, it was a tough sell when you punched me in the gut. But you warmed up over time, I stopped being a moron, and here we are.”

He sighed, and Crystil knew what was holding him back held her back.

“But I only have one focus right now.”

“Defeating Typhos.”

They both nodded, their lines of thinking synchronized.

“There’s no room to explore love when hatred directly affects your current relationships,” Cyrus said. “Until Typhos is gone, and I know my family is safe, and Monda won’t suffer any casualties…”

“I get it,” Crystil said. “There’s a time and a place for everything. It’s just the time is not right.”

“So the place is?” Cyrus said with a wink.

“Funny man,” she said. “Perhaps. But for now…”

“We help Celeste recover, and we battle Typhos.”

Crystil nodded in agreement, and the butterflies in her stomach vanished into the high mountain air.
That felt good. We’ll come back to it someday. Today’s not the day, and tomorrow probably isn’t either. But someday isn’t far off. Things will come to an end soon.

“How is she, by the way?”

“Seems better. She’ll need to prove that she’s recovered, though. Magic is more mental than anything else.”

“Like so many things in life,” Crystil said with a gentle elbow to his side. “But hey, we gotta get food.”

As she spoke, Celeste left her parents and joined the two of them. She looked at both of them with a neutral expression and got a knowing smile, causing Crystil to blush.

“Breakfast?” she said. “Or do you guys have plans already?”

“We do,” Crystil said. “But that’s for dinner. Come with us, let’s go eat.”

Celeste led them down to the spot where they could teleport, Crystil never walking more than a step ahead or behind Cyrus.

65

Emperor Orthran watched as his children and his bodyguard vanished from sight, a feeling that did not bring nearly as much pain as the last time had. He knew they would return—with good food, on top of that—and he did not have to pray that they’d survive on a new world.

And it’s because she took care of them.

He turned back to the woman he had once loved so intensely. Facing her now brought back a potpourri of emotions that he could not distil into a single feeling. He felt gratitude to see her alive—much older, and war-weary, nothing like the beautiful woman he had once known, but still alive. He felt anger for why she had left him, even as their son was just an energetic five-year old and their daughter no more than a couple of days old. He felt sadness that she had not accomplished what she had set out to do.

He felt confused as to how he should react to seeing her again.

“Caius,” she said as she walked over, clearly uncertain as well.

“Erda,” he said.

“It’s been, what, over twenty years?”

“Something like that. You’re still as beautiful as the day I met you.”

“And you’re still as oblivious to the fact that I can read your thoughts as you were then,” she said with a warm smile. “It’s OK. I’ve been through too much in the last several years. If I still looked like I did then, it would mean I didn’t care about all lives lost because of my failure.”

“Stop,” the Emperor said as he closed the gap, but still maintained a distinct distance.

“You know this failure goes back to before we met.”

“Yes, but—”

Erda clearly didn’t want to continue the discussion, with Emperor Orthran knowing the pain that lay on the far side of their tale. He dropped it and sighed, staring at her eyes—the one part of her, he thought, which had not aged so dramatically. She still had the same beautiful blue eyes that he’d fallen in love with, and a semblance of the old smile that she had—always joyful, always present, mouth slightly agape so it looked more like a resting expression instead of a reactive one.

“Do you think our children will repeat my mistakes?” Erda said.

The emperor gently shook his head.

“They weren’t just your mistakes, Erda. You are not the only one to have pushed your children away on the premise that something mattered more.”

“Except your decision—”

He shushed her as he put his hand on her shoulder, closing the gap.

“Yes, there are many things we could have done. You can’t judge yourself a failure for not being able to rescue Typhos, though. And Cyrus and Celeste don’t hate you.”

“They will someday when they realize what I’ve done.”

“They know. And they’ve moved on from it.”

Erda didn’t quite believe what was said but accepted it for the sake of her former lover.

“I just hope I get the chance to actually do something to absolve myself,” Erda said, looking away.

The emperor said nothing, removing his hand but keeping the gap closed between the two of them.

With Typhos ahead, you have no greater chance than this.

66

Celeste spent the rest of the day resting, making up for the lack of sleep from the night before. To her surprise, she fell asleep more easily with more noise. The sound provided a distraction from her mind, which could not escape the clutches of Typhos’ mind games. The silence allowed the whispering, dark voices to fill her head.

She was so tired and exhausted her mind didn’t dream. She was back in a void, but this time, it was a void of her own creation, one which gave her life instead of draining it.

She abruptly awoke from her third nap of the day to see Erda silently standing near her, looking at the same sun.

“We need to test you before we decide to go,” she said. “I need to see where your spirit is.”

Celeste bit her lip, suspecting she was not yet strong enough to go.

“What do you need me to do?”

Erda turned to the stairs behind them, stairs which Crystil, Cyrus, and her Dad sat on, laughing and exchanging jokes.

“The mountain will test you by reading your mind for your greatest fear. For Crystil, it was Dyson. For Cyrus, it was you joining forces with Typhos.”

I’m not ready for that. I’m still tired and weak.

People will die if you do not go. Innocent people.

“Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take a weapon from Cyrus or Crystil. Go to the base of the steps. The mountain will tell you which cave to approach. From there, you must fight whatever you encounter.”

Erda turned back toward the planet and lost herself in thought. Celeste slowly walked toward the other three as Cyrus told a joke.
I feel fine physically. I’m sharp mentally. Pass this… I’m not…

Yes, yes you are Celeste. Just fight, don’t think, then rush to Monda and save everyone.

She reached the others, and they all stood silently. They grimaced in response to Celeste’s taut expression. Crystil removed the sheath and sword from her belt, handing them to Celeste. Celeste took the sword with a queasy stomach. She locked eyes with Crystil, whose single nod communicated everything Celeste needed to know.
It’s my sword now.
She looked down at it, admiring the red stone in its hilt. She pulled it out slightly, admiring the perfectly reflective steel blade, without a scratch despite having fought Typhos the night before.

She walked to the bottom of the first flight of stairs and felt called to her right. She slowly descended, both feet planting on a step before going further.

The lower she got, the louder the voices in her head became—and not the voices she imagined Typhos might say, but things she had actually heard him say.

“Your brother and friends on Anatolus are dead. You have no one left but me. Do you really want to die alone?”

“You worthless scum!”

“Dream about the glory I can offer you.”

As she got closer to the final platform, the words from Typhos blurred together until they sounded like a demonic, terrifying laugh. Celeste begged for anything else to distract her—a gust of wind, a pebble falling down the side of the mountain, an aviant screeching—but her ears could only “hear” one single sound, the voice of Typhos.

She came to the entrance of the cave and distinctly felt his presence inside.
Not possible. Right?

Go forward. Whether he’s real or not…

This is the test. Not to see what’s real or not. But to fight through regardless.

She took a deep breath and hustled in before she could change her mind. She turned back to see the entrance had closed.

She produced an electric spell to illuminate the room. But it did no good—the darkness remained.

“Ha, ha, ha,” a slow laugh sounding like a warped Typhos came. Far ahead—perhaps hundreds of feet away—an outline of a tall figure appeared.
It’s him. You have to fight.
She walked forward slowly, her mind racing.
What if this is an illusion within an illusion? What if this somehow loops back to me being imprisoned and tortured?

Doesn’t matter. Keep going. Have the stoicism of Crystil.

But—

Remember what she said. You’re already dead. Fight like it’s the truth.

She sprinted ahead and stopped when, sure enough, Typhos whirled around. But his mask had vanished, and in the place where his face should have been, empty space greeted her. He had grown, perhaps to ten feet tall. Behind him, the body of Erda collapsed to the ground, stab wounds all over her.

“No!”

Illusion, Celeste, stay in control.

“This is no illusion, girl. The only illusion has been your mind since that door from your cell opened.”

What… No. Is it? How can I know?

“You have no way of knowing what’s real and what’s fantasy, child. I have destroyed your mind. The only way out is to join me.”

“No,” Celeste said, but her voice was weak, and she could not find an escape. “No, can’t be. No, no, no.”

“Yes,” the massive Typhos said, lowering his sword and extending his hand. “If you attack, you wake up in the void, trapped forever. If you join me, you wake up in my throne room, ready to conquer Nubia and the other worlds so that we may destroy the traitors you call family.”

Just fight. That’s what Erda said. Fight whatever you encounter.

She raised her sword, and to her surprise, Typhos did not move to defend himself. Instead, when she had her sword at its apex, he laughed.

“Remember what I just told you, Celeste. Do you really want to wake up back in that void? You’ve already lost your mind. Do you want to make sure you never recover it?”

She hesitated. She tried thinking of the logic of her situation when Typhos lunged at her. She dodged his sword by the narrowest of margins, the gust of the sword grinding on her face.

“Surrender or die slowly,” he said.

Do I?

Do you want to live not fighting?

Think of Cyrus and Crystil.

The last thought propelled her, and she charged Typhos, who once again did not raise his sword, only saying, “Remember what your fate is.”

But she ignored the warning and rammed her sword through his chest. A blinding light appeared, and Celeste placed her hands on her eyes. The light did not let up for several moments, and Celeste fell to the ground in pain.
Stop! Get me back to the mountain!

She found the power to focus and the force to reign in her magic. She ignored all outside sensations, focusing within on herself as she gathered strength.