Page 22 of Season Warriors & Wolves

I looked up at the dragon. “Do I have to…portal somewhere?” Would I even be allowed to enter or even leave this one? We couldn’t enter the heavens, but other realms…that I didn’t know.

The creature huffed, pointing to the centre of the halo where one single star was drawn. Paleagus. Or as they called it in Numen—Ithicea.

My hand hovered over the drawing, hesitant. There was something odd about the chalky design, it almost looked worn out in places compared to the rest of the tiles. I traced the greying patch over and over until I could make out the shape of what had caused the colour to rub off.

“Feet.” The shape was of two feet. Immediately, I got up and stood right on top of the star.

Nothing. I spun round, made a pose too, yet nothing. The moment I shifted to step away, a tile plaque cracked. And another—all of them did, sinking an inch into the ground one after the other. Then, as if I was throwing into a spinning sinkhole, the reality around me began spinning, turning with such force that the gravity holding me upright suddenly began crushing me under it and I collapsed to my knees. The cave disappeared, so did the dragon. The vortex dimmed and then completely darkened.

The spinning dark marred with flashes of violet, specks of silver and gold, stopped and settled. My mouth parted open at the star constellations around me that were not even feet apart from my touch. So many.

Heaviness settled on my chest at the realisation of what hovered before my eyes. Reaching forward, I grazed my fingers over a dazzling formation that glistened by me. The second my skin met warmth, a vortex violently spun from the glittering specks to form a circle portal that framed a dark forest. One I couldn’t recognise. Crimson skies, tall dark and lifeless redwood trees growing from black earth and soil.

Cries of an infant drifted around me, and I searched the distance beyond the portal for the small figure abandoned between wind bellowed trees. The child was small, white hair and the darkest eyes I had ever seen. For a moment, as our eyes met in the distance, the child stopped crying, her wondrous onyx eyes widening.

Death, a voice echoed. Death. Death. Death. Death.

And then I saw it. The vision flashing before my eyes. Bodies among bodies laid around me, melting below the scorched earth that had lit in white fire. Pearlescent feathers burned as they slowly fell to the ground, gathering around the bloodied body of a white-haired woman with great wings. Another lay dead at my feet—Vas was in his human form, one scorched hand reaching out to her. At the centre of all chaos stood my shape, kneeling on the ground, my own blade piercing through my chest. Distant calls rang with my name, voices I knew well. Pleas and cries were muddled with hoorahs of victory. Soldiers jumped around in the far distance, celebrating, throwing my father’s head around while calls of my name grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared.

The child cooed, and it all vanished, like the call of a distant memory. Leaving my body trembling, my breaths shuddering, tears streaming down my eyes and heavy weight pressing against my ribcage. A hand went to my chest, reaching to touch the wound that had felt so real.

“Cerina!” a harsh voice called almost desperately.

I flinched at the sound and pulled back my hand, causing the portal to disappear and return to the previous arrangement of stars that floated round me once again.

I took a breath. Letting what I’d seen melt at the back of my already sick mind.

Then I laughed.

And laughed.

Bracing both hands on the ground while more stuttering laughter overtook me. The sounds travelled down the space around me, growing and bouncing even louder. “She can die.” One—two stray tears dropped from my eyes, touching the black space below, glistening against it. My stomach heaved and sickness grew into a big ball inside the pit of my insides. “She can die.”

And so will you, the voice whispered at the back of my mind.

“The sceptre,” I said, wiping away my face and ignoring the snickering shadows. “Take me to the sceptre.”

The entire thing disappeared, returning me to the cave.

What?

“The sceptre. Where is the fucking sceptre?” I asked, hitting the stone beneath me.

I stood, looking around for another chamber, but nothing. Had I even gone through the first veil?

“You already passed the veil of fears,” a sweet voice called, and I spun round, electricity frying air more than the heat of the land, but she was not afraid.

The girl was beyond beautiful, a luring beauty that seemed too untrue to be anything but a trap. Golden brown skin and dark coppery hair that fell below her waist, her feet looked like they almost floated under her emerald skirts when she stepped toward me. “But the biggest fear lies beneath your feet. That is the last trick the Elder Crafter put in this room for when the next Skygard would need to raise the White Flamed Guardian again. Knowledge. Knowing the heavy weight it bears on your shoulders. Not knowing the danger of the power you hold makes you selfish. Like it made my father.”

“You’re Kegan’s daughter.”

Her smile was polite to hide the sadness painted on the rest of her face. “They called me Nilsa.”

“You’re alive.”

She nodded. “For what I did, I offered to serve as the sceptre’s guard and prevent anyone who wants to cause the destruction my father did. I might not be an Ybris, but once I was just as strong.”

“You must know—”