CHAPTER 12
INTRUDER
Thud, thud, thud. The sound was calming, even in Kiethara’s light sleep. It was just as comforting as the swing of her hammock, except it was having the opposite effect. Instead of putting her to sleep, it was subtly waking her up.
Thud, thud, thud. The sound was getting louder. It no longer had its lulling effect. In fact, she was beginning to feel a flash of irritation with each passing reverberation. She did not want to wake up. Kiethara tried to pull herself away from the sound, but it was to no avail. There was no stopping the noise from driving its way into her mind and keeping sleep at bay.
Thud, thud, thud. As Kiethara’s thoughts picked up speed, she began to recognize the sound. She hadn’t been familiar with it for long, but that didn’t seem to matter. It was the sound of thudding boots. It was Navadar.
Kiethara’s eyes snapped open, only to be blinded by the intensity of the morning sun. She blinked several times, waiting for her eyes to adjust. When her sight finally came to her, she turned her head towards the source.
Navadar entered the clearing and the sight of him was almost as dazzling as the sun had been on her eyes. A green tunic fitted his strong but slim figure, falling a bit past his knees. Black trousers tucked into dark boots, with his weapon slung across his back, as per usual, held on by a black leather strap that crossed his chest. Its dark hue contrasted greatly with his golden hair, which was swept back, allowing his handsome features to be emphasized even more. His most beautiful feature, perhaps, were his eyes. Kiethara grinned at him from ear to ear.
“Navadar!” she called out, pulling herself to a sitting position by using her two feet to keep the hammock still. She then stood up.
“Kiethara,” he smiled, walking closer. His eyes seemed to scan over her for a moment and a wave of self-consciousness took over her. She wondered what her hair looked like this morning.
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“No, not at all. I needed to arise anyway,” she told him, waving away his unnecessary apology.
“What happened to your neck?” he asked suddenly, taking another step forward.
Kiethara brought her hand to her neck in confusion. She then fingered the three, almost healed, parallel scratches that ran on the right side of her neck. Memories of the ferocious tiger days ago almost made her grimace.
“Oh, nothing.” Kiethara tucked in her chin.
“Tell me.”
“It’s foolish.” A blush started on her cheeks. How was she supposed to tell him she got attacked by a tiger? He would think her insane!
“What happened?” he stressed. Kiethara sighed.
“I…I got attacked by a tiger!” she finally confessed, looking up at him under her lashed, anticipating his reaction.
“A tiger?” Navadar asked, as if he had not heard right. His eyes grew very large, as they normally did when she mentioned anything.
This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid! Frightening him with her strange powers and unfortunate mishaps. Navadar just kept becoming more and more scared.
“Why in the world would you hesitate to tell me that?” he asked. She looked up to see his amused bewildered eyes. She bit her lip, trying to come up with a normal response.
“Because it’s foolish,” she replied lamely.
“Foolish? You got attacked by a tiger and walked away with only a scratch! I would call that brave,” Navadar said, but she just shook her head.
“What’s wrong, Kiethara? You’re usually much more energetic and more talkative than this! Are you ill?” he asked. His eyes were full of concern. She looked down.
“When you left so soon last time…was that because of my magic?”
The question had come out of nowhere. It seemed to slip from her lips without her actual acknowledgement; however, even though she hadn’t planned to ask the question, she didn’t take it back. She wanted the truth.
She couldn’t see Navadar’s expression though she desperately wanted to; she just didn’t have the courage to look up. She refused to let her eyes betray her with the emotion that flickered through them.
She saw his feet take a step closer. Only one small thud and then silence. Then his warm, sure fingers were lifting her chin, forcing her to look into his deep green eyes. They held an emotion she could not place. Remorse? Pain? Anger? It was too difficult to place.
“Kiethara,” he said her name with strength, but at the same time his voice was tender. “You cannot fathom how sorry I am for behaving so rudely. I can see it is my fault for such a change in your manner. Kiethara, do not change yourself because this is all new to me. I have reacted terribly. But you, Kiethara, you are so brave! Everything I do must be strange to you as well, but you do not make a face. You take it in such admirable stride. Please, do not alter anything because of my humiliating weakness! I…I love you, Kiethara, for who you are. I love you especially for your magic, your power. It seems I have much to apologize for.”
He said those words so meaningfully, so passionately, that she almost cried.
She was the aware of how close their bodies were. She could feel the warmth of his body, inched from hers. That warmth built in her heart, firing up her own passion, her own craving for the man in front of her. His simple touch, his hold on her chin, sent sparks through her body. But not enough sparks, she wanted more.
This was not something she had been prepared for. Everything Kiethara had done in her life had been centered on Aaron’s teachings, but there had been no lessons for this. There had been no training for such an experience.
This was instinct.
Navadar put his lips on hers.
The feeling was better than any other feeling she had ever felt. It coursed through her like magic, but it was something more. It caused her heart to speed up, pumping frantically as though it couldn’t get the feeling to travel through her bloodstream fast enough.
Navadar moved his hand from her chin to her neck, cupping it gently. Without consciously decided it, Kiethara put her fingers in her hair, entwining them with the blond. His tongue swiftly made its way into her mouth. She could taste his warm breath mingling with hers. Her back arched slightly.
“Well, well. What do we have here?”
Out of all the reactions Kiethara could have had, she would never have imagined her reaction now. Her eyes flew open and she saw the hands she had in Navadar’s hair disappear. Ridiculously, she had become invisible. Why in the world was she embarrassed by the current situation?!
With a gasp, Kiethara spun to face Gandador.
He didn’t seem to have changed a bit, even though it had been months since she had seen him last. He had the same dark, heavy atmosphere about him. He remained to be tall, thin, and pale, with his dark eyes observant and an expression that was unfathomable. Gandador’s hair remained shortly cropped, although untidy, while the exact same black cloak he had adorned last time hung loosely around him, under which his familiar sword was fitted on his right hip. Boots, large and worn, covered his feet, appearing to have traveled an infinite amount of steps. This sudden appearance sent a wave of shock through her, so strong that she could not recall the burning hatred she felt towards this man.
She then remembered Navadar.
“Navadar, run!” Kiethara yelled, shoving him in the direction he had come from. Gandador’s eyes darted towards her. She was giving away her position, but she didn’t care. The advantage of being invisible meant little to her when Navadar was in danger.
“Gandador!” he exclaimed. He staggered back in response to her shoves, but he was too stunned to do anything about it.
“Navadar! Go!” she tried again to move him, but he was too strong.
“I’m not leaving you!” Navadar sounded insulted that she had even suggested such a thing.
“Oh yes, you are!” she demanded. Gandador continued to stand there, staring directly at Navadar. He had his arms crossed and his expression became almost amused, although his eyes were calculating.
“No,” Navadar growled, fists clenched and determined.
“I’ve fought him before. I can handle this,” she insisted, not sure if it was a lie or not.
“No!” he repeated.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll die trying to protect you,” she told him harshly. His determined expression wavered. Although she might have overdone that statement, he could not deny the logic behind it.
“Go!” she said, shoving him again. He took another couple steps back, but didn’t leave. Kiethara huffed in frustration.
She was desperate and she had no other choice—she would have to resort to her magic.
The winds picked up around the three of them. Gandador showed no surprise at the sudden change in weather, but Navadar did. His mouth gaped as the wind pushed him back, nudging him forcefully until he began to retreat. It seemed as though her cruel winds had finally crumbled his determination. With one long glance behind him, he ran towards the surrounding trees.
The relief Kiethara felt when Navadar departed was so strong that she became visible again. She momentarily forgot about Gandador as she sighed to express her relief.
“Who was that?” Gandador asked, causing her to gasp loudly again. She hadn’t heard his approach and he was much closer now, far too close. Her shield appeared as she spun to face him.
“A friend,” she replied, eyes narrowing.
“He has much more than friendship on his mind, my dear,” Gandador replied with a taunting grin. She scowled at him, hands balling into fists.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to be an intruder,” Gandador chuckled.
“Then leave,” she interjected.
“However,” he continued. “I have every right to be so.”
“What in the world would give you that idea?” she asked. He was silent for a long minute.
“Simple,” he finally said, smile widening, though his eyes bore into hers. “It is my right as a father.”
Silence.
It wasn’t a normal silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, where you had nothing to say. It wasn’t a heated silence, where you were too angry to speak. No, this was a silence that could be heard. And it was screaming.
Numbness.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
At first, the words simply did not register. She was numb, as if she hadn’t even heard his words in the first place. When the words finally did make sense, she was confused. It was as though she had the words mixed up.
She did come to realize that she had them in the right order and, when that happened, she almost drowned in the disbelief. Disbelief that he would be insane enough to suggest that. It was mad! The second wave of shock hit her harder than the first and her shield disappeared.
In the silence, Gandador’s black eyes bore into her navy blues. He raised one eyebrow. Kiethara took a step back, shaking her head.
“You’re a fool to think I will believe that,” Kiethara said, slightly hysterical.
“Am I?” he mumbled.
All of a sudden, he was inches from her. She hadn’t seen his movement; it had been much too fast. He now towered over her, staring down at her with shockingly cold eyes. Kiethara felt herself shrink under his glare.
Then his hand was around her throat and suddenly she was gasping, bringing her own two hands to his wrist. She clawed at his life threatening grip, trying to tear it off her, or tear his flesh, but he didn’t even flinch.
Gandador then took her mother’s locket, which was clasped around her neck, into his other hand. She was surprised at this gesture, shocked by the way he took it so gently. He didn’t seem the type of man who could succumb to any amount of tenderness or compassion, especially to a belonging of a woman whom he had killed.
“Where did you find this?” he asked, with his eyes unexpectedly distant.
“What does it matter?” Kiethara half-gasped. “Y-You’ve seen it before!”
Desperately, she began to kick any part of him she could reach. Again, he didn’t seem to notice her pitiful attempts.
“Why don’t I show you the truth?” Gandador asked.
The winds started to howl.
They whipped at her hair, making it twitch spastically. Its fury caused her to freeze in shock; yes, the wind had been blowing in her fear, but she wasn’t doing this now. She couldn’t move. It seemed Gandador was about to kill her with the same element she had used against him before.
But Gandador’s expression, for once, was puzzled. He looked up from Earthaphoria’s locket and scanned the clearing, eyes roving, until they brightened. As though he had realized something.
“You cannot stop me, Aaron Pervel. I find it amusing that it will be me to enlighten her. You awoke twelve years ago and you still haven’t told her the truth?” Gandador called out.
Kiethara had no time to find the meaning in his confusing words. Gandador was distracted, so she bit into his hand, hard, until she tasted blood.
Finally, Gandador acknowledged her attempt at freedom. He jerked his hand back with a hiss, letting go of the locket, which landed on her chest with a soft thud. Without even pausing for a breath, Kiethara twisted herself away and sprinted off.
Her bare feet padded quietly on the forest floor as she pushed her legs to their limit. Behind her, she heard a sigh.
“You just make my work harder, Pervel,” Gandador called out again. Then it was quiet.
As soon as it was, Kiethara realized how much she hated it. She strained her ears for any hint of Gandador’s whereabouts. Stress built in her chest as water did before a dam, pressing hard, making it difficult to breath. The suspense became unbearable. She wanted to scream.
With one powerful push off the ground, she launched herself into the air. The familiar feeling of magic and air cradling her calmed her slightly, but not enough. She rose higher and higher until she cleared the tops of the trees. There she stopped.
She took a ragged gasp, sucking in the blissful forest air. She hadn’t run like that in a while and it definitely took a toll. She should have been more prepared for this. She should have known he would have returned sooner rather than later and she internally kicked herself for not training hard enough.
Gandador suddenly appeared in front of her.
She didn’t have time to react. He grabbed her forearms as she screeched and thrashed violently. The forest could not die.
“Now, we can’t have that,” Gandador mumbled.
Kiethara screamed.
Overwhelming pain shot through her body, making her limbs and her mind spasm in agony until her thoughts clouded to the point where the pain was the only thing she could recognize.
Kiethara didn’t know how much time elapsed before she could grab a hold of some inkling of sense through the chaotic burning. All she could comprehend was that she felt her stomach drop, as though she were falling down. Down made sense, for she had been up, and there was really no possibility that she was still in the air, focusing on her powers, but that meant she was falling, and falling fast.
As the agony continued to wash over her, she could pinpoint where it was coming from. It seemed to ignite in her forearms, searing through her veins until it had burned every part of her useless body. No, not burned. The pain was more like…ice. Too cold. Unbearable. Intolerable.
Then it stopped.
The pain stopped! At first, that was all she could feel. It made her numb with relief. She took deep gasps; the succulent air came in and out easily, indicating that she was still alive. It seemed almost impossible that that was the case. It was more likely that she had died, for the pain to stop so suddenly.
Her senses finally returned to her in full and she realized that her stomach no longer had that sweeping sensation. There was solid ground beneath her feet and she was steady on it. Did that mean she had not fallen out of the sky? Another impossibility, but one she gladly accepted.
It took her another minute to realize her teeth were clenched. It made her feel a tad bit better to know
that Gandador had only gotten the pleasure of hearing her scream once. She shuddered into whatever her back was pressed up against. A tree trunk, perhaps?
“Kiethara?” a voice chanted in her ears as though it were singing to her. She opened her eyes.
Gandador was leaning over her. His eyes were wickedly amused as they took in the expression on her face. It made her sick.
Kiethara’s muscled clenched again, but not in fear, in anger. It seared through her veins as the pain had, with her eager encouragement. It was exactly what she needed; she smiled as her crystals grew brighter. Gandador would have to pay the price for the dark deeds he had performed not just against her but also everyone else caught in his merciless regime. She wanted to make sure of that.
Kiethara’s hands burst into flames—wonderful, blazing flames that licked at her hands harmlessly. She could feel their heat, so she knew he could, but again, he didn’t seem to be fazed by them. Instead, he quickly pushed her wrists away from him. She squirmed, but there was no soft spot to his strength. The fire began to lose its intensity and her flimsy efforts dwindled down.
“There, there. Have you finally seen reason? Will you calm down long enough so I can show you proof?” Gandador asked.
“Proof of what?” she hissed.
“Proof that I am your father.”
“There is no proof,” Kiethara growled. “You aren’t my…my father. You can’t be!”
“I am. Tell me, have you ever opened that locket?”
His simple question threw her off. The locket? It had nothing to do with anything, it was just a piece of her mother that he hadn’t finished off.
“Why?” she asked.
“Just answer the question. I’m not playing these games,” his tone was patient, but his eyes became menacing.
“No,” Kiethara replied in a very small voice.
“Give it to me,” he ordered.
“No!”
Gandador’s hand left her wrist and closed around her throat again. He shoved her against the tree.
“Will you let the forest die for something as meaningless as this?” Gandador’s hand tightened to emphasize his words.
“Fine,” she wheezed. Again, she had to admit the truth. The forest was what mattered. She was at his mercy. With her free hand, she reached for the chain, tearing herself apart internally as he released her throat and took it from her.
“Thank you,” he said, with some mix of emotions. His smile was smug.
With his free hand Gandador took the locket. He placed the golden heart in his palm, holding it away from the two of them. He then placed his thumb on top of the engraved E. He did so, again, tenderly.
“Evol,” he muttered.
Nothing could have prepared Kiethara for what happened next.
The locket clicked open.
Music suddenly echoed through the forest. The sound was…intoxicating. Pure. The melody that played wiped clean all her other feelings: her pain, her anger, and her sorrow. It was unlike any other sound she had heard before. Not like a bird chirping, or the sound of a voice. Aaron had once tried to describe to her a bell, but Kiethara had never heard a bell before, so she couldn’t be sure.
This, however, was not what made her freeze in surprise.
It was her melody. The song that played over and over again in her head with no rhyme or reason. It was the song she hummed almost every single day. She stood there, dumbstruck, finally understanding that it was her mother’s song. Her mother must have sung this to her when she was a little girl. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The answer had been so obvious! In fact, it had literally been right under her nose this whole time.
As she watched, petals began to rise out of the locket. They all seemed to be rose petals, but of different colors, colors that she hadn’t even known were possible for a rose to become. The song seemed to carry them as they floated higher, a sense of magic spinning out of the locket as fast as the petals did. The sweetest smell scented the air.
The petals began to form something. It was as though they had been called to order. They suddenly sped into a blur, frantically trying to obtain whatever goal they had. Most of the lighter colors, she noticed, went to the left, while the darker colors shifted to the right. The sheer amount of the petals confounded her—how could all of this fit into the locket? Then the movements stopped.
Kiethara stared, transfixed, at the image they portrayed.
On the left there was a woman and on the right there was a man. The women had light, sunny brown hair that fell down her back with slight curls. Her skin was a lovely golden hue and her lips were pink and full. Her figure was slender. A few freckles spotted her cheeks and nose. One of her most beautiful features were her eyes, which were a light, dazzling blue, the color of the sky on a cloudless day. Her dark eyelashes contrasted perfectly with them. All in all, she was a very beautiful woman.
The man was quite the opposite. For what was light with the woman was dark with him. He had choppy, short black hair. His skin was deathly pale, but there was not a visible mark upon it. Just as pale were his lips, and thin. His eyes were…intimidating, simply black holes that held not the slightest hint of emotion. It was odd, because his lips were turned up at the corners, as though he was happy, but it was nothing compared to the woman’s brilliant smile. And in between the two of them floated a red heart.
It wasn’t until Kiethara noticed that Gandador was staring at her with an expectant expression did the image truly register with her. All of a sudden, she realized the two people looked very familiar.
Earthaphoria and Gandador.
Her mother and…and her…
No! It just couldn’t be! Her mother—her sweet, innocent mother—could not have loved a man as vile and as cruel as Gandador. It was impossible. There was no way that nature could have let that happen.
Kiethara shook her head frantically.
“Can you deny the truth? Are you that naïve and stubborn?” Gandador asked. The petals floated back down to the locket and he clicked it shut. The following silence was eerie.
“Truth? I see no truth. My mother would have never…” she trailed off.
“Yet here you are. Here I am. And here is this,” Gandador nodded towards the locket before throwing it on the ground. A soft moan escaped Kiethara’s lips.
“Are you in pain?” he asked with a smirk. “Child, you don’t know the meaning of pain…”
With one swipe of his arm he smacked her to the left. Stunned, Kiethara watched the trees flashed by until the ground painfully stopped her movement. With a groan, she struggled to her feet and put her hands out.
“Feeling sentimental?” he taunted as he walked closer.
“That’s exactly my point!” Kiethara cried. “How can she have loved you when you have not loved a single thing?”
“I might have loved your mother at some point. I knew I loved her power,” Gandador replied, his voice level.
“W-what?”
“Your mother’s power,” he repeated. “When I had first seen it I had been blown away. Your mother even found it amusing, how it struck me…”
His voice sounded slightly distant, though his eyes remained as sharp as ever. His memory sounded familiar. The connection she was making sent ice through her veins.
Navadar was like that. Even the smallest amount of her power’s miracles always seemed to throw him off his feet. He saw her magic much differently than she saw it. To him it was unreal, a fantasy. Could Gandador and Navadar be similar in that way?
No. The answer had to be no. Navadar, no matter what the future threw at him, would never grow into what Gandador had become. Navadar didn’t even use magic.
“I began to crave it. I also didn’t particularly enjoy the fact that your mother was more powerful than me. Foolishly, she began to teach me some of what she knew. It was easy, after that. Taking magic from your beloved forest is just too easy; why, a child could do it. It’s a shame the world has begun to stop using it.”
“That still doesn’t prove you love anything. All it proves is that you’re a greedy, power-hungry monster,” she said angrily.
“Say, if you were a poor beggar and you were suddenly presented with a person willing to give you as much money as you wanted, could you refuse?” he asked.
“That’s a bit hard for me to answer, considering the blessed fact that I’ve never needed anything more than what I have,” she replied harshly.
“Simply because you have never been presented with an opportunity as I had. It would be…entertaining to see how you would react if roles were reversed.”
“I lied. Now there is something I need more of. The truth!”
“I’m giving it to you, child! Aaron has kept you in the dark for far too long,” he told her.
“Why do you care?!” she cried, maddened.
“You have been raised to see me as some evil being plaguing your life. That is, once again, Aaron feeding you information that is hardly true. I have my morals like any other man. I have my definition of what is right and what is wrong. And Aaron has his, which he is forcing on to you. Well, I believe everyone has the right to the truth. Especially my daughter,” he declared, stressing the last word to torture her. She snorted.
“The truth! Hah! Everything you have stolen, every person you have killed, every drop of blood that you have spilt…does it all mean nothing to you? But the truth has become to mean so much to you! What sense does that make?”
“Perfect sense. The truth doesn’t require any goodness to it. If you tell the truth, it does not make you a righteous man. The truth does not bring about happiness, no, quite the opposite! The truth can hurt, which is part of the reason why I use it,” he finished with a dark chuckle.
Kiethara could only look up at him.
“Tell me, have I ever lied to you?” Gandador asked, breaking the silence.
Inside her head, a calm no spoke.
That couldn’t be right.
Gandador was a deceiver. He wanted her dead. Of course he had lied to her. He must have! It had to be a part in his plan. Lie, torture, and then death. You couldn’t have one without the other two.
“I don’t know,” she hedged.
“Don’t play games. You know the truth,” he snapped.
So could he be right then? Could everything spoken out of his lips be true? Could he really be her father?
Did it matter?
Exactly. It didn’t matter. No matter what he was or who he said he was, he would always hold motives against her. As long as he wanted the forest burning she would fight him. The assertion sparked a series of emotions in her, the most prominent being anger. Her hands burst into flames.
Without any hesitation, she lunged.
Perhaps it was the fact that Kiethara was doing something so incredibly foolish that made Gandador stand easily, not doing anything about her attack. The force of her body sent them to the ground as her hands set fire to his cloak, brazing his skin. Gandador chuckled from underneath her.
A heavy blow came to her stomach, sending her flying back. She collided painfully with a tree before landing on the dirt with a muffled thud.
The hit had been bewildering. Gandador had not moved his arms, yet the force that had hit her made her surprised she was still breathing.
Kiethara saw him stand up from the corner of her eye. He waved away the fire burning at his cloak with a lazy flick of his wrist, making his way over to her. Struggling to stand up, Kiethara braced herself for what would come next; meanwhile, hundreds of possible attacks raced through her mind, each more feasible than the last.
“You honestly allow this to guard the forest, Pervel? Not a very wise move…” Gandador called out. Kiethara scowled at him.
He raised his eyebrows. “You certainly have a lot of fight in you. Now, we can’t have that…”
He held his left arm out, towards Kiethara’s throat, his face adorned with his usual smirk.
It felt as though the air in her lungs was being pulled out. Desperately, she tried to suck the precious air back in, but it was a useless attempt. Her lungs began to burn for the necessity that had literally been snatched from her and she suddenly found herself on her knees.
She noticed, even with the slight spinning of her thoughts, that her oxygen and her strength seemed to be correlated and, as the gases continued to pull away from her, so did the vigor that usually supported her limbs and, more importantly, her will. All she could do was focus on the burning in her throat, matched with the thought-consuming desire to breathe again. She couldn’t focus on the blurry picture before her of Gandador, or the fact that she had now fallen to all fours.
She only had to bow her head towards the ground for a couple of seconds before the air came rushing back into her lungs faster than it had been taken. Its intensity was so powerful that she had to expel it back out, for she felt as though she were choking on it. She then took shallow, steady gasps.
What had that been? What sort of magic allowed him to do that? It was sick, unreal!
His boots were much closer than she had thought they had been…
His hand grabbed the collar of her dress, lifting her up a good couple of inches before slamming her into the nearest tree. Kiethara winced, her spine jolting at the impact.
“Why do you not just kill me?” she asked, the question surprising her. But it was true, she was done, he had had his opportunities.
“That is no longer my intention,” he stated.
Another dead beat of silence.
“What?” Kiethara asked blankly. He smiled.
“At first,” he said very slowly. “Your mother’s power shocked me. Then, I felt that if I couldn’t have it, no one could. And now…I realize I can.”
“What?” she repeated, even more blankly. Gandador’s smile grew more pronounced. It seemed as though he had endless patience, which before now, she hadn’t been afraid to test…but now that she realized he was capable of even darker powers then she had thought possible, she was wary and suspicious. He seemed one to snap back angrily at badgering questions.
“Do you see your crystals? The way they glow? The amount of magic they can hold equals the amount of magic the forest creates. Do you have an idea what kind of power I am describing?” he asked. She nodded against the rough bark.
“Imagine, now, if I had these crystals,” he said in a wistful voice, his eyes roaming down to them. She shuddered at the image. “I could have all that power. Literally, in the palm of my hand.”
The words hit her hard, just as everything else had today. She managed to pull her arms away from him and push them against the tree in a silent act of defiance to his proclamation. If it came down to protecting her crystals, she might have a chance—a small chance—but a chance none the less.
“Mm,” he noted. “Nice try.”
Kiethara did not notice the vines wrapping around the tree until it was too late. They struck her like a cobra—one thick around her middle, one around her legs, and one around her neck.
He grabbed her arm by the elbow and yanked it up, painfully, before any more vines could tie it down. He did the same with the other, despite her verbal protests, and folded them up against her chest until they were in the shape of an X. Once secured in this position, another series of vines snaked their way around her arms to keep them in place, though not one vine crossed over the gold of her bracelets.
The bracelets, of course, were embedded with a single green stone atop her wrist on each. The bracelet began a little down her arm, ending with a point on the back of her hand. They never came off. So how in the world did Gandador think he would be able to take them off, let alone use them for his own purposes?
“Lovely,” he said. “For a common object such as this to hold such great power. The common saying might state a power-hungry man shall perish with his destiny, but I’ve yet to come to that…
“Should I take the crystals out? Your mother could not take the bracelets off. I doubt gorging them off of your flesh will do
much, but I can try…” he mused.
Despite her current condition, Kiethara couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Gorging them out of my flesh? Pleasant. Is that the best you can come up with?” she mocked.
“For now,” he said, his face betraying no emotion. “Let’s get started, then, shall we?”
He fingered her crystals, calculating.
He was actually going to do it.
The realization sent a sudden, intense stab of fear through her body. It made her veins turn to ice and her heart miss a beat, freezing time in that one silent moment. Incapacitating fear screamed out a silent no.
Then her shield appeared. Yet it didn’t just appear; it did much more than that. It exploded.
It was as though her fear was escaping in one powerful blast. It threw her head back; she heard herself screaming as it pulsated from her. The power of the shield sent Gandador flying back, further back than he had ever sent her before. He practically ricocheted off the trees and, as he flew, the malicious vines that had bound her dropped to the forest floor. Kiethara hardly noticed her newly attained freedom, as she was still reeling in the experience, watching Gandador.
He was lying on the ground. Their eyes met as she took in his bloody nose, his flimsy attempt to push himself upright, and the dark coals turned furious from humiliation. He disappeared.
Kiethara didn’t know how long she stood there. All she could do was focus on that fact that she was alive, half of her sagging in relief, while the other half watching the spot where he disappeared with rapid concentration.
Finally, her aches called for her to move. Kiethara reached for the nape of her neck before remembering he had taken her locket from her. It seemed to call to her, though, and this feeling led her stumbling in what she thought was a random direction, at least until she staggered across it. She picked it up numbly. There was neither a scratch nor a dent, no harm done. At least, not to it, anyway.
“Kiethara?”
Kiethara did not respond to the voice. She was numb. No emotion, no feeling, no energy. She didn’t feel the cool chain of the locket as she placed it around her neck.
“Kiethara?” the voice asked, worried now.
Finally, feelings started at the fringes of herself and worked its way through her, the emotions that replaced the numbness surprising her. She realized, suddenly, that she was murderously angry. Her eyes watered with hot tears, tears that stung with fresh betrayal. Her fists clenched.
She spun around to face the Spirit of Aaron.
“You liar!”