Arc 3, Chapter 32: Light Around the Heart

  The morning air thickened with heat before Mira’s legs felt steady enough to move.

  Some of the crowd’s warmth still clung to her, a firm pressure behind her ribs that kept her from shaking as she stepped away.

  Behind her, shovels bit into the soil in a steady rhythm. Voices murmured in the open square, close enough that she could place people by sound even without seeing them.

  *Ash.*

  *I need to find him. Thank him.*

  Mira turned toward the shrine.

  Memory guided her toward it. She followed the path by feel, the dip of old ruts, the packed-smooth patches where carts always rolled, the way the ground slanted near the broken wall. A breeze carried the scent of wet clay. Then came the sharp bite beneath it, like metal on the tongue. It was the fading presence of the corruption.

  The platform was quiet. The only sounds were the soft rasp of wool bedrolls and the occasional rattle of a wet cough.

  Off to Mira’s left, a healer repeated calm instructions about fresh water and clean linen.

  Mira walked with her weight tipped slightly forward. Her fingertips skimmed the jagged stone to keep her line. She threaded between sleeping bodies by listening for breath, then shifting away from the faint heat that rose from blankets.

  "Excuse me," she whispered as her toe met the soft resistance of a stuffed pallet.

  "A young man," Mira said, turning toward where the damp wool smell was strongest. "Black hair. He stayed on the platform after the battle."

  A raspy voice answered from the floor. "The hours after the corruption are a smear of gray. I recall the heat of the flames, but the rest is gone."

  Mira moved forward until she heard more voices.

  She questioned three more survivors, but the corruption had wiped their recollections as thoroughly as it had drained their strength.

  Steel plates ground together as someone approached with heavy, measured strides. The metallic rattle of armor echoed off the stone.

  "Sir," Mira called.

  The clanking stopped. "Yes?"

  "When you reached the shrine this morning, did you find anyone else? Someone who wasn't from the village?"

  "Only the village people," the man replied.

  Mira kept her focus on his position. "Ash Valendris. Black hair. Young. He was here during the battle."

  The knight remained quiet. A hammer struck stone in the village square, the sound sharp and distant. "The Valendris heir? In Willowden?"

  Mira listened for his breathing, then edged closer. "He was on the platform last night."

  "The Great Houses are a matter of record. If a high-born son were pulled from these ruins, my scouts would have alerted me before the sun rose. We've accounted for every soul pulled from these ruins. Not a single man fits the description of the Valendris heir."

  Mira’s throat thickened. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. You and the locals are the only confirmed survivors." The armor clattered again as the man turned to walk away.

  Mira stood at the center of the shrine. With his footsteps fading, the open air pressed in from every side.

  *No one.*

  *He was here. I know he was here.*

  Moving from healer to soldier, Mira searched for any scrap of information. The answers stayed the same. Every person she questioned met her with silence or a quiet shake of the head.

  *What happened after I left?*

  *Where did he go?*

  Mira moved back through the village, her fingertips tracing the familiar texture of the sun-baked stone.

  The granite was worn glassy at the corners she had turned her entire life, a tactile map that guided her even when the world was a gray smear.

  Around her, the village was a chaos of noise. Shovels bit into the rubble, and the scent of damp dust rose with every stone the men overturned. She signaled a man as he approached. His boots struck the earth in a quick, sharp rhythm as he neared.

  "Excuse me," she said, reaching toward the sound.

  The rhythm broke as he halted. "Yes?"

  "I'm searching for the Valendris heir. He was at the shrine during the battle. Have you seen him?"

  A brief pause followed. "A Valendris? Here? I’m afraid not. I haven’t seen anyone of that rank today."

  The man’s footsteps resumed their brisk pace, leaving Mira alone with the weight settling behind her ribs.

  Four more people gave the same answer. A woman carrying sloshing buckets, two men hauling timber, and a knight on patrol, all of them met her questions with a blank response.

  A different rhythm of footsteps approached from her left. These boots tapped against the stone in quick, nimble clips, moving through the rubble with a speed the exhausted villagers couldn't manage.

  "Excuse me," Mira called out.

  The tapping stopped. "Yeah?"

  "I'm looking for someone. Ash Valendris. Have you seen him?"

  The stranger remained silent. A slow intake of air hissed through teeth as the person moved closer.

  Heat radiated near Mira's shoulder while the air shifted with the stranger's proximity.

  "Wait." The voice was young and male, his tone lifting with a sharp edge of surprise.

  "You're looking for Ash?"

  "Yes." Her breath caught. "Do you know him?"

  A light, easy laugh broke the tension. "Know him? I've been trying to track that guy down for three days."

  "You've been searching for him too?" The question came out lighter, the tightness that had gripped Mira’s chest all morning finally beginning to ease.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "For days now." Boots scraped the grit as a heavy exhale followed. "I'm running out of places to look."

  A brief silence followed. Mira stood still, focusing on the specific pitch of his frustration. "Are you close?"

  "Close enough that when he vanishes, I'm the one left scouring the ruins." The creak of leather armor signaled a shift in his weight. "What do they call you?"

  "Mira."

  "Mira," he murmured, his voice lingering on the name. "Well, Mira, let me tell you about the man we're both trying to find."

  She kept quiet, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing.

  "Whenever I visit his estate, I think maybe this time we'll actually have some fun."

  "Go riding. Hunt. Anything that involves leaving those stone walls behind."

  He paused.

  The silence between them was filled only by the rhythmic strike of a hammer in the square.

  "But every time, I find him in the same corner of the library, buried under manuscripts so old they’re practically dust."

  "He didn't even notice me until I was standing right over his shoulder."

  "I invited him to the capital’s summer celebration, and he stared at me like I was a goat speaking poetry."

  "He had 'work' to finish. Ancient texts no one else will ever care about."

  Mira’s lips pressed together.

  "Another time, I found him in the archives," the man continued, his voice picking up speed.

  "Just him and a pile of forgotten scrolls. He’d been there so long he’d forgotten to eat. I had to physically drag him out, like pulling a stubborn mule from its stall."

  "And when we finally got to a tavern? He brought reading material along. He brought scholarly work to a tavern, Mira."

  Her lips curved into a brief smile.

  The man’s voice trailed off. For a long moment, he didn't say a word, his breathing the only thing she could hear over the noise of the village.

  "That is the first smile I've seen in Willowden today." His tone softened, the volume dropping as he moved.

  Mira felt the heat of his chest draw closer. "I'm Alex. And honestly? You should do that more often. It’s a good look on you, my lady."

  Her head lowered slightly.

  He lingered a second longer, then the warmth receded as he stepped back. When he spoke again, the playful lilt was gone, his voice steady and firm. "We should look together. Better than searching alone."

  Mira nodded, though her mind had already drifted.

  Her fingertips brushed against her palm, where the phantom shape of the vial seemed etched into her skin. A coldness born the moment she passed it to her brother had taken root inside her. Speaking to the villagers had loosened one fear, but this one remained.

  *The heroes*

  A rhythmic, metallic rattling drew her attention. A knight was passing nearby.

  "Excuse me."

  The rhythmic clank of armor stopped. "Miss?"

  "The otherworld heroes. Kyle's group. Where are they?"

  A pause followed. Mira heard the knight’s weight shift, the rasp of his cloak against his plate as he turned.

  "Past the rubble on your left," he said, his voice now directed away from her. "Keep going until the air opens up—you'll hear the wind more once the buildings aren't blocking it. There's a small building still standing at the very end."

  "Thank you."

  The knight's footsteps resumed their heavy, metallic beat and faded into the general noise of the place.

  Mira started forward, her boots finding the familiar grit of the path.

  Behind her, the lighter, steadier strike of Alex's heels matched her pace, never straying more than a few feet from her shoulder.

  The grit beneath her boots gave way to jagged, loose rubble. Mira slowed.

  She extended her hand, grazing the pitted masonry of a wall to guide her progress.

  "Careful—" Alex said, his voice a steady anchor behind her. "—there's a charred beam cutting across the path."

  She shifted her weight, tapping the ground with the toe of her boot until it struck solid wood. She stepped wide to clear the obstacle.

  They continued in silence.

  The village noise faded into a muffled hum. The air turned cool and heavy, smelling of wet rot and stagnant water. A low whistle of wind moved through gaps in the masonry, punctuated by the sharp groan of settling timber.

  "There's a structure ahead," Alex said, his footsteps slowing. "Looks like a small storehouse. Only one room left standing."

  Mira stopped.

  Voices drifted through the open doorway. They were young, their accents carrying the strange, crisp lilt of the Otherworld.

  She reached the threshold and paused. Behind her, Alex's footsteps ceased. The leather of his gear gave a faint creak as he leaned against the exterior wall.

  Mira took a breath and stepped into the room alone. Alex's breathing shifted away from her. His presence settled near the doorframe.

  "Mira?" Emma's voice rose, the name coming out on a sharp, upward breath of air.

  Mira bowed her head, the movement slow and heavy. "I came to apologize."

  A silence followed, thick and stagnant.

  "You don't need to—"

  "I do." Mira straightened, fixing her gaze on the dark shape of the floor. "What happened to you... the corruption. That was my doing."

  "The healers told us," Kyle said. He kept his voice level, though the words softened toward the end. "About your brother."

  "I infected all of you." The words felt like grit in Mira's mouth. "You came here to help and I—"

  "Stop." Footsteps approached, Emma's lighter tread.

  "We're the ones who should apologize," Emma said.

  Behind her, the floor groaned as Kyle and Marcus shifted their weight.

  "We attacked you," Emma continued, her voice trembling slightly. "We turned on the very people we were sent to protect."

  Kyle's heavy boots crossed the small room, stopping directly in front of Mira.

  "I raised a blade against you." He spoke slowly, his voice dropping to a flat monotone. "I struck at you with full force. I intended to kill."

  The leather of his armor creaked.

  There was a dull thud as his knees hit the packed earth, followed by the soft sound of a forehead pressing into the dirt.

  "That's not what heroes do. I'm sorry."

  The air felt thin in Mira's lungs. "You were corrupted. It wasn't—"

  "It was still my hand holding the steel," his voice came, muffled by the floor. "My blade that nearly ended your life. I'm sorry for that."

  Mira stepped forward, reaching into the gray blur of her vision until her hand found the rough, cold metal of his spaulder. "Stand up."

  He rose slowly, the armor clattering.

  "You're forgiven," she said, keeping her hand on his shoulder to ground herself. "All of you. What that corruption forced you to do... I don't hold that against you."

  Emma moved closer, her hand squeezing Mira's arm with a firm, warm pressure. "We're glad you're alive."

  "And we're sorry for what you've been through," Marcus said from across the room.

  The room went quiet for a moment, the only sound the wind whistling through a crack in the stones.

  Then, Emma's head turned toward the doorway. "There's someone at the entrance."

  Mira turned slightly. "That's Alex. He's searching for Ash. Have any of you seen him?"

  Silence settled. Wind rustled faintly through cracks in the stone.

  "Ash?" Kyle's voice lost its calm, the volume jumping. "What happened? Where is he?"

  "I don't know. No one has seen him since the battle ended."

  "We haven't either." Emma's breathing quickened.

  "He was at the shrine during the fighting. After that..." She trailed off into a ragged exhale. "Nothing?"

  "We'll help you find him," Emma's voice firmed.

  Kyle's boots shifted against the floor, moving past Mira toward the threshold where Alex was standing.

  He stopped just short of the door.

  "I'm Kyle." His voice was too bright, a brittle attempt to sound normal after the weight of the last few minutes. "Thanks for helping look for him."

  —

  Alex stood at the threshold, his gaze sweeping the ruins beyond the storehouse. Broken walls stretched in every direction, their jagged edges cutting against the sky.

  A roar rolled across the village. It was low and guttural. The sound vibrated through his ribs and shook the stone beneath his boots.

  Alex snapped his head toward the noise, eyes scanning the distant rubble.

  *A dragon.*

  The sound faded, swallowed by the wind moving through collapsed buildings.

  He turned back as boots scraped the earth behind him.

  Alex watched the young man close the distance between them.

  Kyle's arm lifted, his palm turning upward as his hand extended toward Alex in an open gesture of greeting.

  Alex started to reach out, but his arm froze.

  A sound cut through the noise of the wind. Faint at first, high-pitched, like a tea kettle beginning to boil, but closing the distance fast.

  The window to his right exploded, spraying glass across the ground. A streak of light tore through the shower of falling shards, revealing itself as a shaft of pure, condensed energy that hummed with a violent, electric vibration.

  The light raced toward Mira. Her chest.

  Alex launched himself forward, his boots digging into the dirt as he covered the distance in three long strides. His hand shot up, cutting directly into the projectile's path.

  His fingers closed around the shaft, choking off the arrow's flight.

  A high, grinding shriek rattled his teeth, sounding like metal dragged across glass.

  The shaft bucked in his palm, the condensed magic burning hot against his skin as the momentum tried to drag his arm backward.

  Emma shouted. Kyle spun, reaching for a weapon he didn't have, while Marcus threw himself flat against the earth to duck the debris.

  Mira stumbled back, her hip catching the corner of a crate. She went down hard.

  The arrow's vibration intensified, the hum deepening into a heavy, thrumming pressure that made the air in the room feel dense.

  Light pulsed brighter with each throb, blindingly white. The air shimmered around his fist. The shriek grew so intense the stones rattled.

  Alex's grip was failing; the magic felt like a dagger twisting deeper into his palm, the pain spiking until his bones ached with it.

  He tightened his grip.

  CRACK.

  The arrow shattered.

  The light exploded outward, dissolving into harmless motes of dust before they could touch the ground.

  The shrieking cut off instantly, leaving only the ringing in Alex's ears.

  He stood in the center of the room, his hand still raised, thin wisps of smoke curling from his palm where the magic had burned him.

  The three heroes stared, their eyes wide, fixed on the empty space where the light had been.