Page 127 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“As punishment for Iris. I lost my title, my army, and my home. No one visited. The librarians, guards, and residents here became my friends. Now, they’re all gone.” Raiden stood. “Those books are all I can remember from my time here. They might help.”

“I thought you didn’t like reading.” Kora attempted a smile.

Raiden didn’t return it. “Exile, even to a castle like this, can change a person.” He left abruptly, his shoulders tense enough to snap metal between them.

Part of Kora lurched, wanting to race after him. To assure him he now had one friend in this castle of haunted memories. She nibbled her lip. It must pain him to be here, to walk these halls and remember those he’d lost. But they were here for a reason, and she gently picked up the tome at the top of the pile, opening the cream leather buckle.

Haizea’s rift has tested positively for inter-magical connection. Studies show when combining a mage with the properties of iridweed, they can reach the metaphysical entrance of her realm. The possibilities of this must be protected. Darkon’s army has claimed Aldara, and Calypso’s rift has been lost. Four rifts remain, and Darkon must never reach one.

Kora sat back. She’d been right. Whatever plane she’d been in with Agatha was like Thanos’ when Blake’s magic had suspended her in-between life and death. The in-between. The void. A rift in reality. Whatever these rifts truly were, they had to be connected to Barron’s prophecy. Did he intend to invade Galen once again to obtain the last remaining rift? Was the Aurora Gap part of his plan of a human-free world?

Runes have been proven effective in stabilising the inter-magical connection. We have marked the mountain peaks under the ice caps for protection, to ensure one’s essence is never lost within the rift. It is theorised to cross the rift into the gods’ realm, payment must be sacrificed.

Payment? Gods had no use for money. Did they mean the offerings left behind by the worshippers? Kora’s skin prickled at the word sacrificed. Once again crossing over with Barron’s prophecy. Had he read something similar, believing if he murdered innocents, he could use them to gain access to the gods somehow? But he no longer believed in them. He was adamant on becoming a god himself.

Kora rubbed her temples, flicking through the pages. It continued endlessly about their tests of the Aurora Gap, experiments, and recordings of the consumption of iridweed. This must be how Raiden knew to use it for her power. It was clearly written here—including the risk of not waking up. Not so convenient now.

Nowhere mentioned what—or where—the other rifts were. Calypso’s had been in Aldara, but Kora couldn’t even begin to think of where it could have been. Nowhere had felt especially magical in her ten years there. She groaned, pushing the tome back. None of this was helpful for the dark magic bubbling in her mind.

Low sunlight filtered through the towering window to her left and she blinked, not realising how much time had passed, her porridge long since hardened into sludge. She stretched, her spine cracking and ventured from the library, deciding some fresh air was needed. She just needed to clear her head. Just for a minute.

Winding through the squared hallways, her fingers absentmindedly brushed over the moonstone and silver walls before tickling her own arms. The leech bites had improved from the isuga cream, but their tiny rows of teeth marks still glistened on her skin. She passed the kitchens, inhaling the scent of tonight’s dinner. Sea bass, with spiced vegetables and creamed potatoes. The food in Galen was so divine it was enough to make her want to stay forever.

Forever . . . indeed.

There were hardly any staff here, and Kora appreciated the quietness of the castle. Only the occasional servant passed her path. Compared to Windspire, it was cool, but not chilly. She shrugged her cloak around her fitted black dress—one of Skylar’s items that’d been left here, which she had to pin up by the waist—as she made her way to the main gate. Kora smiled as the guards nodded at her, dressed in different clothing to the mercenaries at Windspire, not once shocked at her scar, or her presence.

Almost like they didn’t recognise her. Had Kordelia ever visited Skybell?

Following her essence—her water beast had returned, albeit quietly. It no longer roared, but purred in the depths of her core—Kora strolled down the slope, basking in the low sun bleeding through the trailing Mist as she speared towards the shore. Ocean waves lapped, the tide coming in slowly as the Mist tangled with each small wave.

Kora kicked off her boots, her toes burying into the sand before splashing into the sea. She inhaled deeply, wrapping her cloak around her, tipping her head back. It wasn’t so bad here. The shores weren’t dead, it wasn’t a barren island, filled with bodies of victims. She’d once pictured Galen as barbaric, with blood-eagled corpses staked at every port, shore and coast.

But it was far from that. Kora rolled her shoulders, the tension flowing out of her as she connected with her element. Her power was small, subdued, but it was there. And she had Raiden to thank for that. Her mind wandered, churning out the possibilities of her future. Could she . . . stay here? Skybell was far more peaceful, far more divine. It was easy to feel protected by the Mist, to think the outside world no longer existed.

But it did. And it was suffering.

Kora blinked, noticing she could see further into the ocean, the distant waves cresting and falling. She glanced to the right, able to see further up the coastline than she had yesterday. Figures knelt in the sand, heads bent to the ground, and she padded through the water towards them, the castle to her right.

Raiden’s hands splayed out into the sand, with Aerion opposite, following his motions, his knees tucked under his wide chest as he murmured in Devanian. Tears dripped from Raiden’s cheeks as his head rose, a gust of wind channelled from his chest. He brought his hands together in a mighty clap, and thunder boomed, lightning striking the sea to their left. Kora jolted as Raiden repeated the motion four times, continuously chanting in the ancient tongue.

Aerion caught her in his vision but he continued chanting, never once breaking his rhythm as he, too, clapped his hands, a deflective wind battering the sand around them. Kora paused outside of their barrier.

Raiden blinked, only just realising Kora was there.

“Hi,” he whispered, his eyes wide.

Kora knelt beside him. “What are we doing?”

The saddest of smiles stretched his full lips. “Honouring Iris. It’s the anniversary of her death today.”

Aerion winced, his doe eyes lined with silver. He inhaled sharply as a slender figure ran towards them, longbow peeking over his shoulder. Aryn panted as he dropped opposite Kora, placing a hand on Aerion’s knee.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“There’s always time for Iris.” Aerion’s watery smile broke Kora’s heart.

Kora glanced to Raiden. She’d probably witnessed this ritual before, she would’ve known it was Iris’ anniversary today. Her fingers curled in the sand at her ignorance, at her amnesia creating yet another barrier to knowledge. “Show me what to do.”