Chapter Eight
Octavion dove at Altaria as she disappeared, splitting the glowing mist of her wake. He plowed into the crate, shattering it before extinguishing the one remaining candle with the weight of his body. He landed hard in the rubble, let out a fierce roar, then knocked the splintered pieces of wood out of the way and jumped to his feet.
Kira stared at the place where Lydia once stood, trying to figure out what happened. “How did she do that?” When they’d disappeared in the forest, she thought it was her imagination, but this time she knew what she saw was real. Lydia had simply vanished. “Where did she go? W . . . why did she leave?” Kira asked, her voice cracking on the last word.
Octavion took Kira’s arm and yanked her to her feet. “To save your life,” he said as he pulled her toward the opening. The instant they were free from the cave, he tightened his grip on her arm and broke out into a run—taking one step to her three.
“Where are you taking me?” she yelled, digging the soles of her shoes in the dirt. She pulled back on her arm, trying to get free. “Octavion, stop!”
“We must find her. She cannot be far. She had little strength left.” He increased his speed, almost dragging her behind him.
“Stop!” she pleaded. “I can’t go this fast. You’re hurting my arm.”
Without missing a step, he pulled her to his side, swung her around in front of him and hoisted her up over his shoulder, clamping a strong arm around the back of her thighs. As Kira struggled to hang on, he increased his speed, darting between trees and over obstacles that stood in his way. The only thing keeping her from bouncing off his shoulder was the death grip she had on the back of his leather vest.
Kira.
Lydia’s voice seeped into Kira’s mind, invading her thoughts. A memory? But it was so clear, as if Lydia had whispered it in her ear. Kira tried to concentrate on where it came from, but the pounding of Octavion’s footsteps vibrating through her head made it impossible.
Kira, please go back!
The voice seemed more urgent this time and now Kira was sure—it was in her head. She really was crazy.
“Octavion! Please, put me down. Something’s wrong,” Kira begged, but he only increased his speed, this time making their surroundings appear as a solid wall of pine bark and vegetation.
“Stop!” she yelled, but he still paid no attention.
Pulling up the back of his vest, Kira exposed his rippling muscles and skin. With all her strength, she dug her nails into his flesh and drew them upward. “Put. Me. Down!”
Octavion cursed in his foreign tongue as he arched his back and slowed. Kira straightened her torso, pushed away from his shoulder, and forced her knee into his ribs. He released his grip on her legs and tossed her through the air. She nearly hit a tree, landing in the dirt, square on her butt.
His eyes were on fire—yellow taking over the darkness of the blue. Kira jumped to her feet just in time to get out of his way. When he turned toward her again, she spun around to run, but he grabbed her arm and twisted her to face him instead.
“Stop it!” she begged. “This stupid bracelet did something to my head. I can hear her.”
Kira’s words froze him in place. “You hear her?” He brought his face down to meet hers and tightened his grip on her arm. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know. But she’s calling my name.”
He scanned the forest. “I hear nothing. I have no time for games.” His jaw tightened as he let out a rumbling noise that seemed to come from his gut.
“Idiot!” she yelled, trying to break loose. “I can hear her voice in here.” She tapped the side of her head with her index finger.
He released her and took a step back, understanding making his eyes widen. “You can hear her thoughts?” He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “If you can hear her, perhaps you can sense her presence as well.”
Kira, no. The voice was barely a whisper.
Octavion stepped closer and this time took her gently by the arms. “You need to concentrate. We must find her before it is too late.”
Kira pushed him away. She felt nauseated and a bit disoriented as images of Lydia flashed through her mind. Lydia lay on the ground, her eyes staring at the star-filled sky—she wasn’t moving. She saw herself standing over Lydia—then she became her, feeling part of Lydia’s pain, hearing the sounds Lydia heard and sensing Kira’s own presence just through the trees. Kira followed her instincts, memorizing each minute detail of the pathway between them until she stood next to herself, Octavion in front of her. She took in a deep, quivering breath and shook off the vision.
“I know where she is.” Kira followed the path she’d memorized only seconds before, Octavion’s heavy footsteps trailing behind her. She had only the glow of the crescent moon and stars to light her path, but she sensed every rock and twig in her way, stepping over and around each obstacle that stood between her and Lydia. When Lydia came into view, Kira stopped and collapsed to the ground. She was as Kira had seen her in her mind—motionless—except her eyes were closed.
Octavion flew past Kira, falling to his knees by Lydia’s side. “No!” His voice echoed through the trees, causing an explosion of tiny birds to take to the sky. He pulled her listless body into his arms and held her close.
They were too late.
Octavion’s body shook with each gut wrenching sob. Kira envied the love he had for his sister. She’d never seen anyone love like that, to be willing to sacrifice everything for one person and spend their life protecting them as though nothing else in the world mattered. She’d never allowed herself to hope for that in her own life, not even from her mother.
She was so numb with grief that for a brief moment, she let herself wonder what it would be like to have Octavion love her like that—willing to protect her and risk everything to keep her safe.
She was suddenly drawn into her own fantasy—his warm embrace, seeing herself in the reflection of his deep blue eyes—and his smile, the way he raised one brow while the tiniest smirk bore dimples into the hollow of his cheeks. The tenderness of his touch as he brushed her tears away. She longed to be seen through the eyes of someone who was capable of loving like that.
When Octavion called out Lydia’s name and pledged his revenge to the heavens, Kira clamped her hands over her ears and closed her tear-filled eyes. She’d seen things she could never explain, felt things she’d never comprehend—but now in the cold darkness of this place, it was all for nothing. Kira’s stomach twisted into a knot as images flooded her mind again—memories of Lydia and the times they’d spent together—each marking significant milestones in their friendship. The thought of a life without Lydia tore at Kira’s heart.
Lydia, I’m so sorry. Kira had barely thought the words when Lydia’s voice echoed through her mind again.
Kira.
Resisting the memory of Lydia’s voice, Kira pulled her legs up and begged it to go away, to give her some peace from her sorrow. A few seconds passed before a voice came again, only this time it wasn’t Lydia. It held the accent of her kindred spirit—Altaria.
Save her!
Kira searched the tree line, but the scene before her hadn’t changed. No mysterious girl. No magical beast to take away the pain. She forced the thoughts from her mind and wiped her tears. What if she was wrong? What if there was still hope?
“Go now!”
Altaria’s words rocked Kira to the core. She pushed forward onto her knees and struggled to gain her balance and stand. “Octavion!” she yelled as she ran to his side. Her call went unanswered. As she grabbed his arm to get his attention, he turned on her, grabbed the front of her jacket, and held her a few inches away in his shaking fist.
“Leave us.” His voice shook with grief for his sister.
Kira placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. “I still hear her.”
His brow furrowed in confusion as he released Kira and turned his attention back to Lydia. “But her heart . . . it no longer b
eats.”
“Then how is she calling my name? Octavion, please help me. Tell me what to do.”
Octavion jumped to his feet and disappeared through the trees, leaving Kira alone with Lydia. It was as if the magical charm around her wrist guided her hands, whispering to her mind what to do next. She shrugged out of her jacket, rolled it into a ball, and carefully placed it under Lydia’s head. Kira pressed her ear to Lydia’s chest to listen for any sign of life. She heard the faint whisper of a heartbeat. Lydia was still alive.
Before Kira could check for a breath, Octavion returned with a small satin pouch. He opened it and removed the contents. On the end of a long silver chain hung a blue glass bottle with a silver cap in the shape of a heart. It reminded Kira of a perfume bottle she’d seen once in an antique store. He glanced at Lydia’s lifeless body, then met Kira’s eyes.
“Take this,” he said. “You must move quickly.”
As Kira grasped the container, he continued his instructions. “Open it carefully. Place one drop on her lips—no more.”
Kira’s heart raced. As she struggled to calm her shaking hands, she unscrewed the cap and lifted it from the container. She arched back, trying to avoid the fumes that escaped, burning her eyes and nose. The effort was futile.
She slowly lowered the container and watched as a single drop fell to Lydia’s lips. Kira replaced the cap to reduce the burning in her throat and handed the bottle back to Octavion. They watched as the clear liquid seeped between Lydia’s lips and ran into her mouth, gradually returning the color to her face. It’s working. Kira turned to share her relief, but met with Octavion’s grave expression.
“You are not finished,” he said. “The Gyllrue will help strengthen her heart, but it will take more to save her life. Only your blood will heal a wound this deep.” He grabbed Kira’s hand and slid his knife from its sheath.
“Wait! What are you doing?” She tried to yank her hand free. His grip tightened as he pulled her hand closer to the blade. When she continued resisting, he fixed his eyes on hers.
“It will only be a small cut. There is no other way.”
Kira’s racing heart fell into her stomach. “But she’s getting better,” she reasoned. “Her color is coming back.”
He shook his head. “She has lost too much blood; the liquid you gave her will not heal the wound or stop the bleeding. If you refuse, she will die.” He softened his expression. “Please, Kira. She would do this for you.”
“But you didn’t say anything about cutting me.”
“You made this choice, knowing you could die, and now you’re afraid of a little cut?” He pulled her hand closer to him. “It is the only way, Kira.”
The same instinct that guided Kira only moments before still pulsed through her veins and she knew he spoke the truth. Her life was no longer hers—she had made that choice. She reluctantly surrendered, relaxing her arm and giving her hand freely. As the point of his blade pierced her palm, she pulled away, causing the blade to go deeper into her flesh and pain to shoot up her arm and into her shoulder. Her fingers began to tingle as the adrenaline rushed through her veins to numb the cut. Blood filled her palm and dripped onto Lydia’s shirt.
Kira expected to hear Octavion’s words instructing her next move, but instead he turned away and dropped her hand.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
He took in a deep breath and pushed to his feet. The muscles in his shoulders seemed to heave and expand as he backed away from her. His eyes were glowing like wildfire as he stepped into the shadows of the pine trees. He clenched his fists beside his trembling body.
His voice was deep and almost inaudible as he struggled to speak. “I won’t be able to help you. You must do this alone.” He backed further away, bracing himself on the trunk of a small pine tree. “Press your bloodied hand against the wound. Push firmly and hold it there. Do not release it.” He closed his eyes, grabbed a branch from the tree and broke it off in his hand, sending splinters scattering to the ground.
“What’s happening to you?”
“Nothing.” A frightening growl rumbled through his throat. “You need to hurry, Kira. See it heal in your mind. It must be . . . firm.”
Kira leaned forward, placed her bleeding hand over Lydia’s wound and covered it with the other, pressing as hard as she dared. At first she felt nothing, but when the Crystor began glowing red and burning her wrist, the bolts of pain she’d felt in the cave returned. This time they shot up both arms and into her shoulders. The sensation grew, moving quickly into her chest. By the time it reached her back, tears flowed freely down her face. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize the torn pieces of Lydia’s body mending themselves and sealing the wound.
At some point, the pain settled into Kira’s heart and her body went numb, but only for an instant. As she tried taking a deep breath, her heart leapt in her chest, bringing her senses back to life with a burst of chilling torture she could only describe as hell. It was as though someone had forced acid through her veins. It rushed down her arms and through the tips of her fingers, taking the warmth from her body and all her energy with it. Lydia’s chest heaved and she arched her back, sending a shock straight up Kira’s arms and into her heart. The force was so strong it threw Kira to the side, leaving her unable to move.
As Kira lay shivering from the chilling effects of healing, Lydia took in a deep life-giving breath. Kira scanned the area where she’d seen Octavion last, but he was gone. She closed her eyes, willing to give in to her fate as she struggled to hear her own faint heartbeat.
Kira’s next memories came in flashes—Octavion’s arms holding her close as he lifted her from the ground, the morning sun streaming through the trees, the silent whisperings of a friend, her fight to survive. The images kept coming, filling her mind with expectation. Maybe she wouldn’t die after all.