Magistaire Chronicles: Shadows of the Past

Chapter 9

Ayko rose to his feet and looked around. Flowers ranging from yellow to black garbed the hill beneath his feet, their colors running together like wet paint. He lifted his head to see the sky had done the same—ropes of red and green alma swirled above his head, coiling around one another like serpentine ribbons while the stars floated just out of his reach.

The young man murmured, attempting to curse, but only muffled grunts escaped him. His eyes flashed, and he pried at his sealed lips, but to no avail. Was this one of Chestplate's practical jokes? A dream, perhaps? If so, why wasn't clawing his skin jolting him awake?

This shit isn't funny, Ayko thought, his nostrils flaring.

Whoever cast this foul hex or whatever it was would answer to him, that much he knew.

He whirled around and turned his head in all directions, his eyes gleaming as a light flickered in the distance.

Ayko exhaled, his face contorting into a frown. You just wait, you bastard!

He climbed down the hilly meadow, losing his footing and rolling until it flattened into a riverbank, one whose stream was as clear as freshly cut diamonds. His eyes darkened upon cupping the water into his hands; it felt like nothing. Neither wet, cold, or lukewarm, and the fish that swam the river's length were black, shadowy wisps that vanished when he reached for them.

The fruit trees lining the river's sides were the same—sweet enough to make him drool, but...wrong. He grabbed a particularly low-hanging rock fruit only for it to dissipate and reshape when he reeled his hand back.

Ayko smacked his lips and stomped away. This place needs serious help.

He strolled the river's length, reaching its end: a ravine where clouds bubbled their way to the top. A bridge as pearly as Magistaire's three moons stretched across the ravine's ends, and behind it were...mountains?

No, a city, Ayko thought upon creeping closer. It had no gates or walls like the cities of the Frostlands, and its king-sized buildings were golden and encrusted with jewels.

Ayko's nostrils and ears twitched. A warm breeze blew from ahead, smelling of freshly baked bread and cinnamon, accompanied by chattering and laughter.

A frown tugged at Ayko's lips. The smell was overpowering, almost sickening, and the prattle was faint and distorted as if he were underwater.

Ayko winced as he continued across the bridge, his footsteps echoing and the flicker growing brighter until he saw the visage of a woman before him. Her skin emitted a warm, yellow glow, and her eyes burned like two suns. Her golden mane of wavy hair blew in all directions like flames in the wind.

The young man locked eyes with her, taking another step forward when she smiled at him, showing the magic symbols etched on her bone-white teeth.

...What? Ayko stopped in his tracks, his face twisting into a sneer when she spoke.

"Ninieve Nenelata Ichrach Zevelic Skyraza"

Ayko grunted, attempting to speak through his glued lips, to which the woman's face fell.

"Ye with no name," she said, her voice as soft as the cloud river below. "Depart from me!"

Ayko looked down, feeling a rumble beneath his feet, the bridge crackling and crumbling underneath him. Muffled screams fell from his lips as he plummeted into the ravine, followed by the familiar sound of one casting a spell.

Levariare...

********

Ayko yelped, jumping up to see the trio of Chestplate, Hazelmere, and Arzen standing over him, with the knight wearing a particularly cheeky grin. Violet sparks crackled in the palm of his hand.