Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) (37 page)

Cyrus turned to Crystil for guidance, but she offered nothing. She shrugged as if to say, “Make your own choices.”

“Bring them to me,” he said. “Gently. They are our prisoners, but that doesn’t give us the right to act like Typhos.”

“Understood,” the man said, and he motioned for men to head inside the palace.

Cyrus marveled at how he could finally see the interior of his old home.
Monda is ours.

For now. Typhos isn’t dead, and he’s protected. But we’ll bring the fight to him this time. We won’t wait to let him devastate us. We’ll bring an end to his reign of terror as soon as we can get Monda operational and Anatolus stacked with these guys.

The Kastori—
treat them that way, not as magicologists—
walked forward with their arms up, the five humans behind them with rifles raised. One of the older Kastori approached Cyrus and removed the hood of her black robes. She had long black hair and a face worn out from the war, full of wrinkles that seemed ill-suited for a woman of the age Cyrus guessed at.

“My name is Hanna, and I am one of the Kastori who fought alongside Typhos,” she said. “But I want to join your side now.”

Cyrus saw a familiar look in her eyes. It reminded him of Celeste, the way she had a strong sense in what she believed in.
This is what she would’ve been if she gave in.

“I fought for him out of fear for my life. If I did not serve Typhos, he would strike me and all of my friends down. I did not fight because I believed in him, at least, not anymore. There was a time, on Anatolus, but…”

“Understood,” Cyrus said. “We would like you to join us on Anatolus. I want you and your fellow Kastori to understand that we are bringing the fight to Typhos. You may have stopped fighting for him, but if you join us, you are not done fighting. If you wish to be done fighting, we can keep you comfortable in our prisons here until the war is done. I will—”

“We need to join you,” Hanna said, cutting off Cyrus, who went silent when he saw the fire in her eyes. “Many of my friends have died because of him and his unchecked rage. I would have died if not for the way he took a liking to me early on. We live only because the wrath of Typhos hasn’t picked a day for us. We need to fight so that we can live.”

Now she sounds like Crystil. These guys will make for a valuable team.

Cyrus felt the presence of his sister, and he turned to see Celeste walking forward. It was still odd to see the top of her scar, just a couple of inches beneath her collarbone, extending beneath her clothing. It reminded him how close he had come to losing her, and how much more training and preparation he would need to undertake to fight with her.

“I’m Celeste Orthran,” she said to Hanna. “I felt your pain talking to Cyrus and wanted to come and talk to you. I lost my mother because of Typhos, and for a while, thought I’d lost my father.”

She thinks of Erda as Mom… it’s still weird.

“I know you need to join us. And we need you to join us. So I ask if you will come to Anatolus and help us become an army that can fight Typhos and his creations.”

“Yes,” Hanna said. “Please.”

Celeste nodded without so much as looking at Cyrus or Crystil.
She’s in charge now. Could be worse
, Cyrus thought with a smirk.

“Cyrus, wanna talk to everyone else here?” Celeste asked.

“Duh, I gotta have something to do,” Cyrus said.

Celeste laughed as Crystil interjected, “Keep me here too. He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

Celeste teleported the Kastori defectors to Anatolus, and Cyrus shared a look with Crystil.

“Ready to get our world back up and running?”

“Whatcha think?” Crystil asked with a grin of high expectations on her face. “Factories for weapons? Fighter jets?”

“Anything and everything we had two years and seven months ago,” Cyrus said. “I have a feeling the fight with Typhos isn’t just going to be us versus Typhos, but all of us versus Typhos and his weird creations.”

“I’ll take our chances in that fight,” Crystil said.

“Got that right,” Cyrus said with a wink.

The two laughed as they walked side-by-side to the humans, ready to restore Monda back to its peak in preparation for their greatest war yet.

82

Celeste stood in front of the giant funeral pyre with her mother at the top. She held the flame which would send Erda’s body back into ashes and put to rest a life that Celeste wouldn’t wish on anyone—Typhos included.

She always tried to do the right thing. Even when there was no right choice. Let that be the lesson for you when you see your lost brother.

She looked at the crowd. Her father, her brother, Crystil, and the dozen Kastori she had brought from Monda stood in front of her, for the funeral of the last chief of the Kastori.
No one deserves to have the title after the way she kept everyone alive all those years. Only when Typhos is defeated will there be a chief.

She cleared her throat, her voice scratchy from discussing strategy.

“For many of us, we had a complicated relationship with Erda, or Aida,” Celeste began, her voice strong and unwavering. “However, I cannot speak ill of her, even for all of her self-described mistakes. I cannot imagine a world in which I bring in a son who loses his father and my husband, and then having to carry both the burden of grief and the burden of his grief and his childhood. I do not want to live a life where I take a vacation and bring to life the child of another planet, forcing myself to pick between two worlds and two families. I shudder at the thought of watching my child become the greatest threat to peace and prosperity in the universe and knowing that my actions contributed to it. I do not want to judge her, because who’s to say I would’ve made the right choice in that spot?”

All eyes watched with wonder.

“I will not speak unappreciative words for that reason. Here is what I can say. Without Erda, I am certainly not alive, and without Erda, most of us are probably not alive. I can look at every single person here, and say why they would not be alive without Erda. Cyrus, she guided us toward their refugee spot in the camp. Without her help, we die from a lack of water or Calypsius. Crystil, her help in the cockpit helped give us victory. Her ability to enhance the weaponry which we encountered was incredibly useful, and that would’ve been a short battle without her. To the Kastori I do not know, Erda taught us compassion, ensuring that we did not do anything we would regret to you. And Dad… you know her the best of any of us, I think.”

The Emperor nodded, not saying anything.

“Without Erda, perhaps you are still alive. But you wouldn’t have nearly the reason to live that you do now, with two children who both love you very much. I cannot say if Typhos knew of your connection to her. But I can say that your love for us, the love which kept you going even as you slaved in manual labor camps for two years, your title stripped from you, came only because of Erda. For that reason too, I can say you would not be here without Erda.”

With that, she softened her voice.

“Does anyone else wish to say anything about Erda?”

But she already knew the outcome. Crystil had no real relationship to speak of and preferred to stay silent at these events. Cyrus was still working through his feelings, and could not trust himself to keep his comments polite. And her father had said everything that needed to be said.

I just wish there was someone else here. That someone would never speak their mind, and would only speak ill of her. But if we could get him to speak honestly, about the kind of woman she was before her first husband died… and of what she could have been…

She didn’t finish the thought. The Erda she knew, she liked enough she didn’t need to wonder what if.

“Then with that, we send Erda to eternal rest.”

She walked to the base of the pyre for a half-beat longer than she planned to.
Without her, it’s me up there.

Her mind flashed back to the speech Crystil had given her, back when Calypsius still terrorized them and they thought they were the only three people on the planet.
If you’re already dead, you have nothing to fear.

I’m not dead. But I experienced something very close to it. I can picture myself up there easily.

I’m not afraid. Typhos has already brought me to the brink. Facing him will not frighten me. I will save him from himself, or we will both die.

I accept either outcome. And it’s because of you, Erda.

Thank you.

She threw the torch at the base and turned and walked to her father’s side as the flames scaled the pyre. Her father draped his arm around her, and she watched silently as her mother became one with Anatolus. Off in the distance, she could hear lupi howling to the stars, their voices sorrowful, yearning and mourning.

Two hours later, she stood at the crater, the place that had devastated their old home. Nothing that was on Anatolus a year ago remained.
Sobering.

“Celeste.”

The young girl turned and saw Crystil approaching. Her voice sounded warm but also searching.

“You OK?”

Celeste took a second but eventually nodded.

“I am,” she said. “And it’s time for us to prepare. I need to go to Vostoka and gather as much strength as I can. I need you to gather our forces on Monda and get the factories up and running again in preparation for whatever monsters Typhos brings. And have Cyrus go with you, and have him train the Kastori for battle.”

Crystil’s smile increased as she listened to the fearless woman before her.

“And when do we start?”

Celeste’s face started with a smile, but quickly turned determined with a singular focus.

“Now.”

Epilogue

She’s dead.

She sacrificed herself so the girl could live.

She’s really, finally dead.

The wounds still fresh on Typhos’ shoulder and his mask still broken, he slowly rose to his feet inside his tent on Nubia. His white magic Kastori patrolled the tent, furiously casting spells. He walked away from the tent, wanting to be alone. Outside, the winds gusted with a fury, and the desert had turned from blazing hot to surprisingly cold.

“Let me be,”
he communicated to the Kastori, with less anger than usual.

After walking out of sight of the Kastori, he fell to his knees.

My mother is dead.

I’ve been waiting for this day for years. I’ve been waiting for her to feel the kind of pain that I have.

I should feel good. I should feel pleased. I should feel joyful that I have finally ridden myself of the biggest source of pain.

Instead, all I’m left with is…

“What if?” he muttered, his voice shaking.

A single tear fell from the exposed eye of Typhos before he bit his lip and stopped any more emotional displays. He turned and walked with a fury to the tent, trying to suppress his sadness but knowing he would never completely do so.

Preview of "Kastori Tribulations"

The following is an excerpt from the next book in the series, “Kastori Tribulations,” a prequel to “Kastori Revelations.”

“There’s no place for you to run to now, Erda,” Typhos said, treating the name as the foulest thing he’d ever said. “You can’t retreat to Monda. You can’t pity your way into my sympathy. You have no lying husband to throw yourself into. You have no son who will love you. You’re done.”

His mother said nothing, instead looking at him… warmly? Coldly? Sadly? Even with his red magic, Typhos couldn’t quite decipher her. The sadness he had seen in her eyes had vanished for a complex look he could not place.

It infuriated him.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me the last few years?” Typhos said with creeping sadness. “Do you see what I have become because of you? Do you sense how many people have died because of the darkness your absence instilled inside of me? Do you see how much suffering I have experienced?”

Erda said nothing, but this time, the expression on her face reverted to sadness.

“Of course you don’t. You’ve always lived for yourself. You never loved me.”

“Don’t say that,” Erda said. “Typhos…”

Hearing his name from his mother sparked rage in him. He walked toward her, ready to hit her. At the last second, he instead brushed by her, his robes colliding with hers, as he grabbed the sword from the black statue. He held the long blade, with the sharpest edges he had ever felt and a black emerald in the hilt, and swung it with ease. He brought it to her, with only unbridled anger guiding him.

“I’m sorry. I have always loved you and still do. But I know nothing I can say will matter.”

Typhos paused, the sword close enough to strike her.
Nothing you say will matter. Just like everything you said to me in my childhood.

“You have that right. You ruined me! You left me to turn into this! And now, because of you, your council is dead. Ramadus is dead. Fargus is dead. Garron is dead. All at my hand. Your white magic council members would be wise to hide, because… because they’re going to be joining the others. Just like you are now!”