I was in the shadow forest hunting when a blue light catapulted through the air, hitting me with such force that it sent me flying from the top of the Elder tree I had been perched on, skidding across the field. The feeling of the eternal flame entering my body was euphoric, unlike any drug in existence. Pure ecstasy rushed through my body, infiltrating every fibre of my being and hooking itself into my mind, body and soul. A guttural scream that boarded on maniacal at the sheer thrill of it all shook through me. Once the afterglow had worn off, I knew what it meant. My mother was dead.
When I found myself back at the castle, everyone was in a panic and in various stages of mourning. I, however, felt nothing. Growing up as the heir to Maureia, I knew that this would be my reality one day, so from birth, they had separated my mother and me. We saw each other at royal events, but we had not once had a private conversation or shared any moments of love and kindness between us. This was all done to ensure that the transition of power was smooth and that the heir was not rattled by grief in the same way it had consumed me with my father. The most I felt over her death was the sting of jealousy rearing its head again, knowing I would never get the chance to experience that mother-daughter moment I had always seen between my mother and my sister. That was when I knew my childhood was truly dysfunctional. To have the woman who gave birth to you die and not shed a tear. Instead, like an addict, I had wished I could feelthe pure ecstasy of the flame rushing through my body again at the moment of her death.
My mother had died at the hands of the Morgadian king, Sebastian. Just another casualty of this war. It was at the end of my final semester at the Academy, during the break before graduation, in which I would assume the throne a few weeks later. I remember nearing my graduation and having a twisted thought flutter through my mind. I was glad my mother was dead so that I could begin my reign as soon as I was done at the Academy. I wanted power; I wanted to cause people pain for all the pain I had endured, and I wanted to obliterate my mother’s legacy, creating my own that would far outlast hers. I hated her for never loving me. It was one thing to understand the rules of the old ways, but I knew it was more than that every time her eyes landed on mine, she never cared about me. The distance between us wasn’t hard for her to maintain, while it had shattered me as a child. I held my perfect sister through the night as she sobbed, but instead of grieving with her, I thought of all the things that were wrong with me; perhaps if I had a real relationship with my mother, I would have turned out a little more sane like my sister.
The black smoke billowed then faded again. Standing face to face with my sister Jahnah after the memories of our mother felt too raw. Although my sister and I had a turbulent relationship at times, she often lied, manipulated and distorted the truth to push and prod me for sport because she was younger. But I loved her dearly. She was the only family I had who didn’t actively seek to hurt me. She had also died at the hands of the Morgadian king. Only two months had passed since my mother’s death; the fighting between our lands peaked. He sought to take advantage of the change in leadership, thinking there would be disharmony in my ranks or weaknesses in my strategies and those of my newly appointed advisors.
I watched the moment he snapped my sisters’ neck with his bare hands right in front of me. My sister and I had been tobattle and fought side by side so many times before; I never imagined a day when I would lose her to it. One inconsequential second cost her her life and lost me a sister. Losing her footing, one of the dead clinging to life latched onto her leg. As if in slow motion across the field, I screamed her name as the Morgadian king stepped up behind her. She couldn’t hear me, but instead the man met my eyes as he gripped her head and twisted it so viciously that the light drained from her eyes instantly as her body slumped to the ground. He grinned at me, the mark of a man that would stop at nothing. A smile I saw on my face far too often; this was the first time I had seen myself in him and it sickened me. This was no longer about land, it was pure bloodlust. I recognised the feeling all too well.
By the time I made it through the assault to my sister’s body, she was already turning cold. I sat there holding her for hours screaming until my throat was raw and bleeding. The battle was forgotten as my army pushed the enemy back. Finally, we had won, but at what cost? My sister was killed for no reason other than to hurt me. I was a poison infecting the lives of those around me. She would still be here if not for me, and the worst part was that I was just as sick and depraved as he was. If the roles had been reversed, I would have done the same thing. I thought I had fought for justice, but it was vengeance and power.
The vision ended, and rather than being pulled again to a different person and memory that had shaped me I sat in the darkness of my soul.
‘Skylar, what did you learn?’ Sienna asked. It sounded like a whisper echoing in the depths of my mind. I was reeling. What had I learnt? Nothing—except for the fact that my life was a tragedy. That I was too fucked up and twisted to function. Everything and everyone in my life was tainted by me, and I was the poison. Those who got close enough would end up ruined at my hands, all so that I could hold onto my power.
‘I’ve been twisted into someone who is barely a Skin Seeperanymore. I’m a shattered vessel trying to fill its cracks with blood, death and destruction. I’m no better than my enemies. All that has ever mattered to me is power. I thought I was noble in my pursuits, but I’m just like my enemies, if not worse, because I had fooled myself into thinking I was righteous; at least they know what they are.’ Slowly the darkness lifted.
Pulled from my mind, I saw Sienna sitting in front of me, smiling. ‘How stupid can you be? We can all change, heal and grow. You just never had a reason or a desire to.’
I looked at her disbelievingly. How could anyone look at me, at my brokenness, and see anything worth salvaging? ‘I still don’t want to, I like who I am, I…need to be this?—’
Sienna interrupted me. ‘You hate yourself, you hate your life; you always have. You have no reason to now, but one day you will. And when that time comes, you will be ready because today you faced who you are and why you are the way you are. From now on, you should make a conscious decision in every action to do better. Be better. Fight for the right things. The panic will get much worse until you find a new purpose outside of your own needs, but you will find a light out of the darkness one day,’ she said with a glimmer in her eye that almost left me hopeful, but now I was angry.
‘I thought this would fix me. You said this would cure my panic. I wouldn’t have done this if that panic was only going to get worse,’ I seethed, rising to my feet.
‘I lied. This had to be done. You’ll understand that one day.’
‘I could execute you for this deception. I have been too soft on you—you have forgotten your place, thinking you can manipulate me. How fucking dare you?!’ I screamed.
‘Try it,’ she challenged. I raised my hand, ready to grab her, but stopped myself midair, clenching it into a fist. ‘Breathe through your anger and choose differently. You are more than a caged animal lashing out.’ She was right and deep down I knew I needed to confront these truths I had been burying deep inside. But I didn’t like being lied to.
‘I’m sorry, Sienna.’ I stepped back, breathing deeply to calm myself.
‘I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard those words from you.’ She smirked in satisfaction.
‘Well, you might not have fixed the panic, but maybe you did fix a small part of me.’
Four
Waking the next morning, I felt sore all through my back and shoulders, stretching and cracking my bones to alleviate some of the tension, but without success. On any normal night, I would have unending vivid dreams, but last night, I closed my eyes after the Awakening and instantly fell asleep. Then, it was morning. Not a single dream or nightmare plagued me. My bones were heavy as I sluggishly threw my legs over the edge of the bed, my mind feeling just as slow. I could have laid in bed for hours, not truly taking in anything around me, with not a single thought entering my mind, but my life didn’t afford me that luxury.
Deciding the only thing that would enable me to reset and start anew after last night was a scalding hot shower, which turned my skin red from the searing heat, I plucked myself up. The sadder I was, the hotter the water had to be. It was almost as if it melted away the pain; the warmth enveloping me made me feel at peace, even if only for the briefest moment. Those showers were also one of the few places where I could cry without anyone being the wiser. When spilling blood couldn’t ground me, hot water always doused that incessant inner fire that raged inside me.
Cylptus leaves hung in my shower, and combined with the steam, they let out soothing aromas that helped to relax me. The pelting of the hot water eased every tense muscle beneath my skin. At some point, my mind drifted so far that I realised at least an hour had passed. My mind had no energy to think a single thought. I stared at the hand painted tiles as I tried to shake my mind awake. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself out of the shower and into a black outfit that emulated my mood and would clearly tell everyone who saw me to fuck off. The only thing with an ounce of colour was my mother’s golden sword. Instantly, I was brought back to the moment I received it after her death. I dreamed of owning that blade my whole life, and when my mother died, there was a piece of me that thought,finally.
It was ornate in design; one might think it was only decorative. But no blade I had ever touched was sharper or more perfectly balanced. Forged by the first dragons, the pommel contained a single jewel the size of a small mouse, within which sat the eternal flame. The grip and cross guard featured intricate filigree patterns. It looked like a work of art rather than a lethal weapon. I never felt more powerful than when I weighed it carefully in my hands. It was an extension of me.
I foundmyself in the library, feeling refreshed, albeit vulnerable. I plastered a look of cold indifference on my face. No one who crossed paths with me would ever imagine what was raging within my mind. I was the picture of certainty and strength, not the raw and exposed little girl that I felt like after Sienna had spent the night stripping me bare.
The library was a refuge of mine, a place I came to escape my world by falling into the pages of another. While Cain habitually stayed in the library, he did so to learn anything and everythinghe could. I, on the other hand, used the books to experience things I never would have otherwise. Maybe it was because I never felt loved or could say that I loved anyone in my life—even my own blood—unconditionally, that I immersed myself in tales of love and lust. Those books were simple. They all played out the same way and they were always happy in the end; I wanted a taste. I would never have any of it, but if only for a moment I could dream and imagine it was me with each flick of the page. Perhaps that was why I had become so broken in the first place. I had spent my entire life until last night running from my painful memories, whether in blood or in books.
Today was different. I needed something else. The library was warm and inviting, with a hearth laid beneath a stained-glass window that shone through images of the first dragons. I remember being puzzled as a child by the roaring fire that never dimmed, even in the summer months. My father explained that it guarded the books, and a single ember could not burn a page within this library unless it was to protect—protect the knowledge and secrets contained within the tomes of this city. Even during the most sweltering months of summer, the library was never stifling because of the fire. It adjusted itself to the needs of the books. My father told me that every tome lived and breathed within these walls, and as such, they grew cold from neglect. He said that a steady fire would spread its heat to the furthest shelves in the deepest crevices of these walls. Wrapping each page in a warm embrace, letting the knowledge know it was never truly forgotten.
Walking to the back of the library for what felt like hours, time was different amongst all this history; it stretched and folded in on itself. The further I descended the spiralling stone steps, the blurrier the line became between then and now. I came to the end of the steps, passing level after level of books that got colder and darker. It was blackened metal, with young dragons curling over the door frame. The flicker of a single torchon the wall beside it reflected blue light in their jewelled eyes. I placed my hand on the door and breathed deeply as I let the thrum of the eternal flame within my veins rise to the surface, revealing that the door and I were one and the same. I was a part of it; I had the old magic within me, and I was no stranger. A moment later, the door unlatched and creaked open.
The room was small, damp and quiet. The walls were bare, aside from a few torches that never dimmed, like the hearth above. The flames shone blue, touched by the power of what sat in the middle of the room on a dais carved from obsidian. TheOracle—a solid tome covered in gold and silver metal, encrusted with blue sapphires—was laid before me. As I neared the book of my ancestors, the sapphires glowed brighter, as if they were calling to what lay underneath my skin.
TheOraclewas a book of many secrets and it only answered to me. The Spirit Casters had told me about the book upon my ascension. It was one that could only be read by those who contained the flame within them; to anyone else, the pages would appear barren. To me, they contained rich, vibrant colours—swirling as I opened the pages, deciding what they wanted to show me. Black smoke seeped out of the pages and spilled onto the floor before settling around me. TheOraclewould paint a picture of the future before me. I had to be precise in the questions I asked or the thoughts I possessed when looking at it; otherwise, the images would be just as vague.
