Page 49 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

Through the rays of the light, water approached, a vast, bubbling, sickening wave. Black and thick, acrid and cold. Kora released the tendrils, folding her arms around herself as she inevitably plummeted, the tar latching onto her body.

“Who are you?” Kora rasped as it circled around her neck, choking her. It toyed with her hair, pulling on the strands and smothering her body.

“I am the one who was forgotten. I am your fate. I am your end.”

“STOP!”

Kora blinked, a cool breeze ruffling her camisole and trousers. It was dark, but the moon graced the Mist, creating a greyed veil that reminded her of the Eternal Tryk. She inhaled sharply, her hands flying to her neck, still feeling the remnants of the tar pit coiled around her throat.

“Don’t jump!”

Kora blinked again, her mind hazed, tinges of red lingering at the edges of her vision. The forest lining the hill to Mistros City loomed before her. Autumn was already settling in, creating an array of warmth among the trees in the dark. She leaned forward and gasped as her toes met cool air.

She was on her balcony.

“Kora! Climb down instead!”

A figure emerged from the forest. Her youthful face was familiar, dressed in a shimmering grey gown, with matching hair blending into the Mist. Kora’s heart raced as she fell back from the balustrade, colliding with a balcony chair.

What the fuck was happening?

“Come down, cildbah!” Kora’s ears pricked at the Devanian, and she peered through the iron bars matching the windows. The female approached, halting before the neatly trimmed hedges lining the pathways below the west wing.

“Agatha?” Kora breathed, as beryl eyes came into focus, evolving colours continuously changing. She didn’t waste a second as she hooked a leg over the balcony, grabbing onto the winding ivy that thrived on this side of the castle. Every descent she made, her heart pounded faster, the distance closing between her and Agatha.

How was she here? How did she survive? Kora had seen her body. Had Agatha been unconscious instead? It didn’t matter. She was alive. Kora dropped to the ground, her bare feet smarting against the sandy pebbled pathways. As she spun, a furrow formed between her brows. Agatha was further away, gliding down the main pathway between the forest.

“Wait!” Kora lurched, her heart in her throat as she raced after Agatha. Every step she took, Agatha grew farther away, speeding down the hill. Damn, that old woman could run.

“Keep up, Kora!” Agatha called, her voice lighter than Kora remembered, the usual husk muted.

Her lungs burned, her weakened body struggling to keep up with Agatha’s swiftness. Her bones scraped and Kora groaned at how knobbly her joints had become. As Kora stumbled at the base of the hill, the scent of the sea drifting through the city’s structure, Agatha finally stopped.

She lingered inside the threshold of the city; a clear, gleaming gate lined with white silver that separated Kora from Agatha. Beyond were the smoothly rounded buildings, adorned with blue roofs and golden weathervanes. It was dark, the lanterns unlit, the houses quiet. Not a soul walked the streets.

Beyond that . . . was the sea.

But all was silent. Not even the salted ocean tinged the air. Waves rippled in the distance but they were quiet, and Kora inhaled deeply. A musky tone tickled her senses, powdery with a bitter note.

“Agatha?” Kora neared the gate, quivering in the cool night air. Her lavender camisole and trousers did nothing to help, and she tentatively toed the boundary. Agatha slowly pivoted, a smile gracing her plump face. Her hair was unbound, sparkling threads woven throughout it, and her eyes had finally settled, remaining a deep violet.

“Come, my child.” Agatha opened her arms and Kora raced forward, a tear sliding down her flushed cheek.

As Kora’s arms circled around Agatha, she vanished.

Black and purple smoke erupted, and Kora blinked as the city came into focus. The lanterns burned, illuminating the city with wonder, and through the Mist, figures strolled, filling the streets. Waves of the ocean crashed, salt mixing with scents of market stall food. Kora staggered through the gate, and gasps and cries rang as the smoke coiled around her, toying with her.

“No . . .” she whispered as citizens’ eyes flared, their stares pinned to her scar, to her hair. To the shadows that played with her.

“It’s Kordelia! She’s returned!”

“What’s happened to her?”

“She’s surrounded by dark magic!”

“No, wait, I—” Kora reached out to a male stranger, desperate to explain, but he recoiled. His disgust and fear were palpable, his elderly features horrified, and Kora’s gut knotted, her legs shaking violently.

“You’re the hunter!” he yelled.