ONE SHADOW GATE turned into another, and then another, and another. My head swam as we leaped between them, barely taking three steps after exiting one swirling portal before Fisher called another into existence and pulled me through it.
Five hundred leagues. That's how far we could travel without Belikon sensing Fisher's magic and following us. But by the twelfth shadow gate, I'd had enough. I needed a moment. I needed to breathe. I needed to sit down and fucking cry. When my feet found solid ground, the soles of my boots sinking into powdery white snow, I tugged against Fisher's hand and shook my head. "Enough," I pleaded. "Please. I . . ."
He drew me to him and hugged me fiercely, his heart thundering behind his chest plate. "It's okay, Osha. We're here," he said.
I didn't give a fuck where here was. I sank down into the snow, and I ran my fingers through Onyx's thick fur, hating the way that he was growing cold. "I should have listened to you," I whispered. "Back at the Winter Palace, when you said he'd make a terrible pet. He wasn't supposed to be around any of this. He was supposed to be free." I sniffed, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
Fisher sat down heavily in the snow beside me. Gently, he put his hand on Onyx's head and left it there. "We believe," he started. But then he stopped. He looked up at the stars—more stars than I had ever seen—drawing in deep, slow breaths. The night was so cold that you couldn't even feel it. Twin plumes of fog formed as he exhaled down his nose. "We believe that animals are too pure for this life. They are all ascended beings who live in the after. Everything is perfect there. No pain or misfortune or heartbreak. But sometimes, they peer beyond the veil between this life and the next, and they see us here in the depths of our suffering, and they choose someone. One soul they want to help over any other. They come to us as . . . dear friends"—he cleared his throat—"when we need them most. You needed Onyx when you first got here, Saeris. He saw that perhaps, and he came. But now—"
I shook my head, blind with tears, refusing to hear him. "No. I still need him. I still—" I tried to continue speaking. I failed. The loss was too great.
Fisher leaned against me and shared in my grief. His hand, so much bigger than mine, remained on top of Onyx's head as shooting stars traced banners of light overhead. The sight would have been spectacular if it had been any other night, but it was this night, and all was terrible in the world.
I held Onyx's paw until ice crept along my bones and hoarfrost formed in my blood-drenched hair. "I thought he was in Ballard," I whispered. "I hoped . . ."
"I'm so sorry, Saeris."
I brushed away his apology, fighting to swallow the lump in my throat so I could talk again. "It wasn't your fault. It was him. Belikon. It was . . ."
Bad luck?
A cruel twist of fate?
Horrible timing?
None of it made me feel any better.
I stroked the broken little form in my lap, wishing harder than I'd wished for anything since my mother had died. I was sinking deeper into the depths of despair, hoping I would reach the bottom soon, when I stilled, staring down at the hand that I had buried in Onyx's fur.
One of the runes on the back of my hand was shimmering. It hadn't flared before. Not when I'd used it on Taladaius. Not when I'd used it to undo the magic that gave Fisher's name power, either. But . . . was I imagining it? Was there a faint blue glowing line, slowly tracing the outline of the Hazrax's rune? I held my hand up, heart stalling behind my ribs.
"You see that?" I gasped.
"See what?"
Of course the light would fucking go out when I tried to show it to Fisher. I bit on my bottom lip, staring at my hand, willing it to reappear. Nothing happened. I knew what I'd seen, though. It had been there. My mind wouldn't play tricks on me just because I wanted something badly. It just wouldn't. "Here. Take him a moment." I handed Onyx over to Fisher as carefully as I could, trying to calm my breathing as I got to my feet and spun around.
"I—oh." Fuck. We were on the side of a mountain. A steep one, at that. At the top of the slope we sat on, an entire city lit up the night, its two white towers so tall that I had to crane my neck back to find the top of them. It was beautiful. It was . . .
"Ajun," Fisher said quietly, twisting to look back over his shoulder. "We should head up to the gate. This far north the sun rises later, but it'll be here soon."
Ajun.
Ajun Sky.
I knew why they called it that now: This luminescent city had been built among the clouds. I'd wanted to see it for myself, but now that I was on its doorstep, I wasn't ready to go inside. I spun around, feeling utterly helpless as I scanned the dark that surrounded us. "Where are you?" I shouted.
Where are you?
. . . Are you?
Where are you?
The question echoed back to me, far away, then near, then far again.
"Come on! I know you're here. You got your way, didn't you? I said that you could watch!"
Watch.
Watch . . .
WATCH!
"Osha, what are you doing?"
"Come on!" I screamed. "Show yourself!"
Every bit of hope I had left in me flared and died as I waited for the figure to come floating out of the dark. I had almost given up completely when it suddenly appeared on the snowy mountainside in front of us.
The Hazrax.
Fisher reached for Nimerelle, but I stepped in front of him, shaking my head. "No. Don't. It's okay."
"What is it doing here?" he hissed.
I hadn't kept the deal I'd made with the Hazrax a secret from him on purpose. Fisher was gone when it visited me in the forge, and there hadn't been time to explain what had just happened with it in the dreamscape I conjured in Cahlish.
I'll explain everything, I promise, I said into his mind. To the Hazrax, I said, "I need to ask you a question."
The creature looked even more sickly and unnatural under the canopy of stars. As always, its coal-black eyes were bottomless voids. With its slitted nose, the gills at its neck, and its hairless, waxen skin, it looked like the kind of creature that lived in deep, inky waters at the bottom of an ocean. I had seen something very similar to it in one of Foley's books. It was impossible to read its mood normally, but right now I could feel the anger radiating from it like heat. "Our agreement gives me leave to watch you at my leisure, Saeris Fane. It does not give you leave to summon me and ask questions."
"Then why are you here?" I demanded. "Why did you even come?"
"I will not come again. I am here now to make this very clear to you. I am not your subject. You do not command me—"
"Please. Just one question! I'll never call upon you again, I swear it." I would drop down on my knees and beg. I wasn't above it. I'd make another deal. I'd let it watch me for the next ten years in return. I just needed to know one thing.
"Why would I help you, child? I have no interest in assisting you with your questions."
I needed to hold my tongue. I just couldn't. "You're lying."
Easy, Saeris, Fisher warned. It's more powerful than the two of us put together. Can't you feel it?
Oh, I felt it. The Hazrax's power flooded the air with electricity and the distinct scent of ozone. The creature was only just taller than your average Fae male, it was true, but the reek of strange magic that rolled off it was so strong that it turned my stomach. But what else could I do? I had to try. "If you didn't care, you wouldn't have invaded my dream of Cahlish. You wouldn't have told me that I needed to change my favor."
The Hazrax pondered this silently.
"Just tell me. Please. Can you see the spirits of the dead?"
The moonlight threw wild shadows over the Hazrax's face. It grimaced, displaying row upon row of curved, sharp teeth. "It would be blasphemy to admit such a thing," it hissed.
"I don't care about blasphemy. I care about my fox. Is he still here? Right now. I need to know if he's already . . ." Sometimes, words were steep hills, so fucking hard to summit. "If he's already gone, then I'll leave him in peace. But if he's still here . . ."
The Hazrax clacked its teeth together in a strange gesture that felt disdainful. "What does it matter either way, child? The fox is dead. It will move on eventually."
The tenuous hope I had lost soared from the ashes of my grief and rekindled at once. "So you can see him then? He is still here?"
"I will not speak on it—"
"Please." The request was quiet. It hadn't come from me. Fisher was up on his feet now and still holding Onyx's lifeless form in his arms. He took a step forward, tucking his chin to his chest and bowing respectfully as he approached the Hazrax. "You do not know me," he said. "You owe me nothing. I won't make you promises or strike bargains with you, but if it's within your power to give my mate the information she seeks, I would be forever grateful. I'm sure that means little to you, but—"
"Fine." The former Lord of Midnight didn't look at Fisher. It continued staring at me. "If it means so much to you, then I will answer your question. But in return for a question of my own."
"Anything. Ask!"
The Hazrax made that perturbing clicking sound at the back of its throat. "What does it feel like . . . to lose something that you love so dearly?"
The strangest question. Had it never known loss before? Had it been so sheltered its entire existence that it had never lost anyone that it cared about? The odds seemed impossible, especially when you considered how old the creature was. I was well equipped to answer it, though. I'd experienced more than my fair share of loss in my lifetime. My mother. My father. The few friends I'd been stupid enough to make when I was younger, back in the Third. There were bodies piled high in the mausoleum of my memory. "It feels like trying to make sand flow backward in an hourglass. It feels like being surrounded by people and being the only one who can't find the air in the room. It's drowning on dry land. It's the hollow ache of something that you know, from that moment on, will always be missing. It is a pain so acute and incurable that poets, pirates, and politicians alike die from it. And it never ends."
The Hazrax's robes blew about it on the gentle, icy breeze. It was silent. For a long time, it remained that way. And then: "The fox's soul is still with you. It is currently sitting at your feet. It seems that the beast hasn't realized that it's dead yet. It follows you like a little lost shadow. Does that make you feel better?"
Onyx hadn't gone. He was still here with me. I glanced down at my boots, knowing what he would look like if I could see him—glassy eyes black as little chips of jet, looking up at me so trustingly, so full of love—and I shook my head. "No. It doesn't make me feel better. But I am hoping it'll make what I'm about to do easier."noveldrama
Give him to me, Fisher. Please. I need him.
What are you going to do? Fisher asked, sounding cautious, but he did as I asked. I took Onyx from him and dropped down on my knees in the snow.
"Belikon and Madra were afraid of the Alchemists. They were afraid, because the people who came before me were capable of things they would never be able to do. The Alchemists sought perfect knowledge, and they possessed remarkable control over elemental magic. But they also chased immortality. I don't want to make anyone immortal. But if I'm capable of healing myself from awful burns and a hole in my chest, then I can heal a tiny fox."
The Hazrax had already been fairly still, but now it froze, its entire being locked in place as if cast in marble.
Fisher laid a hand on my shoulder, dropping down beside me in the snow. "Saeris, that's not . . ." The second his eyes met mine, he abandoned whatever he had been about to say, though. "Never mind. If you think you can do it, then I believe you," he said.
"Such a thing is impossible," the Hazrax said. "The Alchemists tried and failed for centuries to bring their Fae loved ones back from the dead."
"And I'm sure they tried very hard," I bit out, already pulling my magic into me. "But they were trying to bring back people. Onyx is tiny. I know I can do it." The reserve of energy inside me flooded and brimmed over. I kept on drawing my magic to me, regardless, the words Taladaius had spoken to me once in his office at the Fool's Paradise playing on a loop inside my head. The fact that your hands are healed now, after the damage I just witnessed, implies that you also have regenerative magic. Physical magic. Power over the body. At some point, you might be able to heal others with your abilities . . .
"No amount of magic can cheat death," the Hazrax said, in a pitying tone.
"That's true." I held up my hand for the Hazrax to see—the faint glimmers of light that had returned and were trailing around the outline of the rune it had given to me. "But with the gift you gave to me, I'm betting I can undo it for a moment."
"You want to undo death?" it said disbelievingly.
"I do." My magic was making me dizzy now. Such a tide of it poured into me, gaining momentum, saturating my entire being. I let it come, welcoming it in, allowing it to fill me until the rush of it felt almost unstoppable.
"All this for a fox?" the Hazrax scoffed. "Speak to her, Child of Shadow. Make her see sense. She'll kill herself before she revives the animal."
I wanted to tell Fisher not to stop me, but the power relaying around my body was too great now. I couldn't find the clarity to speak, not even into his mind. Fisher's hand pressed into the small of my back—strong, warm, comforting. I waited for the words of common sense to come . . .
Fisher spoke with resolve. "He isn't just a fox. He's family. And if Saeris says she's going to save him, then she's going to."
"Such blind faith?"
"In her? Yes," Fisher answered.
"And if she dies while trying to accomplish this fool's errand?"
I felt my mate's shrug. "It is her life to spend. Her decision. I will respect it."
The sheer volume of power was starting to hurt now. It clawed at my insides as if my body were a cage and it wanted to get out. I wouldn't be able to hold it for much longer. I concentrated on splitting it down the middle. I called on a part of myself that I'd never reached for before—on a rune I didn't even have yet—and I fucking hoped with every last part of me that this would work.
"Look at me, child," the Hazrax ordered. "All magic has its limits. If you proceed any further, you will shatter the rune I gave you. You will not be able to use it to save anyone else. You will not be able to use it to free your other friends from their oaths, as you freed your mate."
I didn't care.
There would be another way to free the others. I would find one. Make one if I had to. Right now, I was saving Onyx. I could sense the flicker of his spirit there, sitting next to me in the snow, watching me as I held my hands over his cold body.
"Do it, Osha," Fisher whispered.
The Hazrax's rune blazed, lighting up the night. The creature had called it a silent rune, had said that it didn't possess magic the way my others did, but it sure as hell responded when I forced the flow of my magic into it.
And it hurt.
It kept on hurting as my palms swelled with light and poured into Onyx's broken and bloody body.
So much magic. A monumental tide rolled through me and kept on going . . . and I was met with darkness. A nothingness so vast that trying to fill it felt like a ridiculous task.
Cold seeped into my fingertips and into my hands. It climbed up my arms, creeping slowly, slowly up toward my elbows. The agony of it fractured me—my body, my mind, my hope—leaving only my will intact. I would not give up here. Even if I wanted to, I suspected that I couldn't.
I'd opened a door, and death stood on the other side of it. If I didn't push it back and succeed in my goal, he would step through and claim me instead.
Higher.
Higher.
The cold of the eternal dark crawled up to my armpits.
Come on, Osha. You can do this.
Wind whipped at my hair. My eyes were closed or unseeing—I couldn't differentiate. I was locked in a tug-of-war, funneling my magic into a bottomless vessel that did not want to be filled—
Keep going! Fisher urged inside my head.
The cold clamped around my throat, closing off my airways. It beckoned to me, promising such restful sleep . . .
I pushed harder, hurling my magic into the Hazrax's rune. Blisters ballooned on the backs of both of my hands, filling and bursting in seconds, the flesh beneath raw and singed.
Yes. That's it, Saeris. Go! Go!
One last push. One huge shove . . . and the door between this life and the next slammed closed.
The cold in my chest disappeared.
I—I—
Onyx's eyes were closed. He was so still. He—
He moved. His paw. There! I saw it! It moved!
But his body was still broken. His side was torn wide open and bleeding afresh. He didn't have long. I'd brought him back into his body, and it could not sustain him. He had a minute, maybe. Seconds. I reached for the magic I had bet everything on and found . . . nothing.
I'd used it all. There was nothing left. I'd drawn so much power to me, and it was all gone.
I reached for it again, again found nothing. I was falling through the air, stomach churning, weightless, trying to find a handhold, something to stop the fall, but there was nothing.
Panic—
No. There was no time for that.
I reached beyond my magic. Beyond my runes. Beyond the bond there, connecting me to my mate. I reached, fighting millimeter by millimeter, until I finally found what I was looking for.
I didn't know the words.
Was I even supposed to say anything?
Was there some kind of covenant, or . . . ahh, fuck it, my intentions would have to be good enough. Death rattled the door handle. I could feel it. He was coming for Onyx a second time. I acted quickly, plucking up a small kernel of the energy I had discovered, and I pushed it up, past my bond with Fisher, past the empty reserve where my magic should have been, into my body, into the raw Alchimeran shield that was smoking on the back of my hand . . . and then into the little white fox.
The world trembled in response, a shock wave rocking the snowy slope, and out of nowhere a grim white dawn broke over the saw-toothed mountain range of Ajun, casting back the dark.