Dawn of Ash (35 page)

“There is one among us…” The familiar words were spoken in the unified voice of the Drak, the sound hollow and familiar.

The sight pulled me away from the massive cave, away from the water, and into a different sight, into the black and fire, into a world that was full of terrifying screams.

“… who seeks to change the magic, someone who seeks to kill the magic.”

Screams filled me as I watched a destruction I had seen before. Instead of the dangers, instead of my father’s laugh, I saw him. I saw him stand as he ordered the deaths of hundreds, Sain cowering by his side, his hands and feet in shackles.

My heart ached as the blood flowed, my father’s laugh matching the voice of the Drak in perfect harmony.

“He seeks to kill the magic for his own personal gain. We see him as he fights, as he sheds the blood of us, as he sheds the blood of others. We see him as he stops the reign of magic, as he stops the time of ours.”

The voices of the Drak faded away as the sight shifted. My father walked into the same hall of sight I had seen moments before, his face sallow and grey as his hands writhed, eyes wide with fear.

I watched him kneel before Sain, the old Drak grinning as he placed his hand on my father’s head, the depth of his voice shocking.

“
You must kill them all, Edmund. All of the Chosen. The sight is clear.
”

“
There must be another way!
” my father sobbed, his whole body convulsing as he fell to the ground, the sight shifting as he fell.

Timothy ran across my sight, his squat frame tearing into a large forest clearing that was filled with an army. Thousands stood at the ready, bathed in ribbons of sun. It would have been beautiful if not for the reason they were there.

Edmund smiled as Timothy approached him, his face strained as he ordered the army out, as the sight shifted to the screams of hundreds of children, hundreds of Chosen massacred before my eyes. Vilỳs were captured, their wings ripped from their bodies before they were thrown into nothing more than a burlap sack.

I tried to scream, tried to run from the changes in the sight, but I couldn’t move. I was forced to watch as the scene kept me trapped in a reality I wasn’t ready to face.

“
You, I’ll save for last,
” Timothy hissed as he grabbed the blue Vilỳ I had seen born from the mud, his face defiant as he threw him into an oversized birdcage, locking the door with one flick of his magic.

“Is this now?” The echo of my own voice rippled throughout the sight, the sound distorted as it traveled from the past, reverberating throughout the sight as it shifted again.

“The time is now, My Lord,” the Drak responded, their voice hollow as it shifted violently across the painful image I was faced with. “You alone will be brave enough to fight him. Where others will lose their lives, you will prevail.”

Everything in me twisted uncomfortably as the sight faded to black, the dim light of a dungeon I had seen many times before coming into focus. Crude shapes of what I could assume were people drifted in and out of focus, and over it all, the deep, heavy words of a Drak flowed freely, the voice dead and monotone.

“The child is the key. If she lives, then the first of the Chosen is defeated. If she dies, then he prevails. Through her line comes the Silnỳ as seen before. Take her to the tallest spire and take flight. The time is now.”

If I could focus beyond the sight, focus beyond what was before me, I was in no doubt I would be crying. I could feel the heavy emotion wrack me, but I could not escape it.

One after another, the sights came, images flashing from the beginning to the end of time as everything sped up.

Edmund, ordering the death of thousands. Edmund, wooing woman after woman as he took their magic, leaving orphans behind. Myself as I fought him, trying desperately to defeat him, to stop the rein of death he had unfurled on our kind.

The mumbling voice of the Drak echoed during the sights, the tempo of the sound increasing as it mutated into the distorted words I had heard before.

“In a time far ahead, near the end of the world, in a time when everything is changing and everything is new…”

The images I saw shifted to things that were now so commonplace the wonderment I had felt the first time flittered away, leaving me confused as I watched cars, airplanes, and toasters.

“There will come a child.”

In an instant, the image shifted. This time, I recognized it as what I had seen before, the image of the same woman being handed an infant, a beautiful baby girl who, even in sight, pulled at my heart.

“A child, an infant, a child whom we see. We see her when she’s born. We see her when she’s grown. We see her now, and we see her then.”

The sight intersected with what I had seen before, the images the same as I watched Joclyn’s childhood, as I watched her grow. I watched her find joy. I watched her find her smile. I smiled, too. The heartache I had always felt before was now a distant memory, because even though I knew what I was about to see, I also knew what came after. I knew what she was to me now.

I knew that my wait was over.

“She is of the Chosen. Marked by the sign of the creature of fire, she has smoke in her eyes. A Chosen Child just for you.”

These images were all familiar to me now: this love, this connection, this powerful magic we shared. I could feel it wrap itself around me. It all enveloped me as I saw our first kiss, saw the flashes of magic I now understood and had already experienced.

“For in this child is power, power beyond belief. She is the most powerful. She will be the Silnỳ, the one who protects us all.”

Images twisted as I watched, subtle changes infecting the sights. I had noticed them, but none so apparent as when I saw Joclyn and I leaning up against a wall in the ruins of Rioseco, a battle unfolding around us. Flames surrounded us as we stood in each other’s arms, blood seeping from a wound in her stomach and the long, golden ribbon trailing from the braids in our hair.

The délka vedení královsk.

“This is truth,” the child’s voice came right on cue, the tone deep and terrifying as the reality of what I was watching hit me hard in the gut.

I had lived this. But what was more, when I had seen this the first time, it had been different. It had been a different wall, a different battle. There had been no golden ribbons, no seeping wound.

Sain had chastised us, ripped his daughter apart, because she had broken the sight. However, what I was looking at now was exactly what had happened.

“This is truth,” the child said again, her voice boring into me as I stared, my mind numb as the truth was made clear to me.

My heart beat in a painful heaviness as the sight continued to unfold, the images broken as the prophecy cut through my focus. The words that had been Sain’s now blended with that of the child who had haunted the white space, the chimes of her voice a haunting melody.

“You will love her,” they said together, “but you cannot have her. You will protect her, but you will fail.”

I cringed as the voice of Sain and the woman blended in and out with those of the Drak, rising and falling as the anxiety built. My muscles uncoiled in fear of what I was about to see: the image of Joclyn’s death, the heartbreak that had haunted me for hundreds of years.

“This is truth,” the child spoke over the prophecy of the Drak, her voice loud in my ears. “This is the end.”

I thought I had been scared before, thought I had been ready for what was coming, but not anymore.

With those few words, a dread I had never experienced gripped me, the deep monotone of Sain’s voice increasing the fear.

“The one bred to die.”

It wasn’t me who was screaming. It wasn’t me who was mourning. It wasn’t her body in my arms. It wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Joclyn screamed in panic and pain as Ryland lifted her over his shoulder, his face streaming with tears as he walked away from something I could not see. Ovailia’s laugh reverberated in my head as the cave formed around the scene, the broken rocks shifting as everything fell, as everything broke apart.

Underneath it all, I lay, spread out over the rocks, blood seeping from my body like a river, a crimson stain spreading over the grey stone I lay on.

The grey stone I had died on.

“What?” I heard my voice breaking in the sight, the echo of past having a whole different meaning, given what I was now looking at, given the horrors of a future I now faced.

I could feel the voices of the Drak run over me, could feel the sight come to an end, but I couldn’t look away from the image of my death.

I couldn’t look away from the blood.

Pain I didn’t fully understand drenched me in a force that sent a crippling ache over my chest. The ache grew as the vision faded away, leaving me gasping in the void, my hands clenching my hair.

“This is sight.” The haunting sounds of the child’s voice moved around the white void I had returned to.

“No!” I screamed, the volume of my voice reverberating with pressurized power. “No!”

“You have been born for something different than you assumed.”

“What do you mean? What is this?” I yelled into the nothingness, spinning in place as I tried to find the owner. My magic stretched away from me in an attempt to find Joclyn. Nothing was there. Even though I had the distinct impression Joclyn was close, I still could not see her. I could not see anyone who could be speaking to me.

As before, it was empty.

“Everything you have been told is a lie. I have shown you truth.”

My chest tightened painfully as she spoke, the dread and fear running through me, keeping a tight grip on my heart.

“Your life, your death, how you die, how you live, why you have the magic you do—”

“I won’t accept this!”

“It was all a lie.” The voice was a hiss now, and I could barely focus through the dread, through the anxiety that had taken control.

“No!” I yelled, my anger truly out of control now. “I won’t let it be.”

“Why do you say that?” the voice came again.

I spun toward it, coming face-to-face with a child this time. A little girl with bright blue eyes and dark curls down to her waist stood before me as if she had always been there, her head cocked to the side, as if I was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

“You will die,” she said, her voice light and calm, more reminiscent of how someone discussed food than the death of a loved one.

Eyes wide as I fumed, I attempted to control my anger, but I already knew it was a lost cause.

“Then I will die,” I fumed, staring at the little girl with more anger than a child her age should ever see. “But I will not accept that I was born for something other than to protect the one I love.”

“Is that all?” the girl said with a smile, her curls bobbing as she took a step closer to me. “You will protect her, Ilyan Krul—of that, the sight is clear. But you
will
fail, and nothing can be done to change that. It is your choice if you continue to stand by her, if you continue on the path of what is true, or if you choose to find your own.”

“Find my own path?” I gasped, not understanding what she meant. I had seen my death. There was no other option.

“There is always another choice in this life. There is always a chance to fix what was broken,” she said with a smile, her nose wrinkling familiarly. “Will you choose to protect her?”

“I will.” The words came without hesitation, the strong presence of her magic within me seeming to warm at the simple declaration, my heart beating right alongside. “I love her. I love her more than I have any other, and that love … I will fight for her no matter what comes our way. I will stand by her, no matter what demons she faces, for she is of my heart, and I am of hers. I will protect her until my blood spills over those rocks as I take my last breath, and I will treasure every moment I have with her. No matter what comes.” I spoke to the child as I would to an enemy, my voice heavy and deep as my heart opened up, as I spilled out every emotion and desire and fear. As I let this tiny child see me.

“That is what I was hoping you would say.” She smiled as the love and magic continued to swell inside of me. Her grin was wide as if I had said something more than what was in my heart.

“Does Joclyn know of this change?” I asked with trepidation, my heart thundering inside my chest with the truth of what this revelation could mean and what I did not want Joclyn to worry over. I would always be by her side. I didn’t want to give her any reason to doubt it would ever change.

“You are true, Ilyan Krul.”

My question lingered between us as the void faded back to the black, back to the flashes of sight which moved so fast I could barely see them. One vision blended into the next as my head throbbed, my body aching as if someone was pulling me into a stutter without warning.

Gasping at what I was seeing, my mouth opened in the same wide scream of before. A deep, hollow voice echoed in my mind against the agony my scream held, against the fear that had debilitated me.

“The magic was spread too wide but has been returned,” the voice began, the scream fading to nothing as my own voice joined it, the dead, hollow tones foreign and frightening. “The son will rise, the son will fall, and all the blood will cease to flow. The time is now. It grows too late. Kill the fool before the slate. Love no longer seeks revenge. You will seek the end to end.”

I gasped as the words finished, as the black of the world and the depth of the sight faded into the room I called home where everything erupted in noise and panic.

Dramin lay on the floor, mumbling about sight and white rooms. A panicked Ryland hovered over him. Jaromir sat, crying in the corner, looking around at each of us as though we were possessed, something I was confident was very possible given what had happened.

The weight I had been missing dropped into my arms as Joclyn’s magic ebbed away, the flow of it lessening as I returned to reality, returned to her sleeping body that still lay against me.