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“Wow,” Skylenna breathes, eyes glistening in the sunny circus lights.
“These angels were created by God to wield ethereal power that emerges from strife, from heartbreak, from hardship. They were cut from the same cloth, beings of a twin flame, a star split down the middle. Warrior soul mates that can find each other across time and space. And Knightingale knew she had to find DaiSzek. From the mere glimpse of a vision the archangel gave her, she knew her heart belonged to the stonemason’s son. The humble fae that was kind to his neighbor, gentle to his flock, and had no idea the burden that sat on his shoulders.”
And fuck, now I’m tearing up. It’s beautiful.
Marilynn takes a few shallow breaths, glancing down at her raw fingertips.
“In the time it took Knightingale to sail to Neslanox, she was abducted by pirates, sold into slavery, beaten, tortured, and starved. DaiSzek watched a plague overtake his country. He nursed his family and friends as they all died slow deaths. He was the only one immune. In search to find more fae who had survived, he took a boat and sailed to the nearby country of Rouzella. He was treated like a king for being fae, given his own legion of servants to care for him. Elven servants. In Rouzella, the elven race was hated and forced to serve in order to stay alive.
“DaiSzek made many enemies by freeing those in bondage. One day, he was captured and brought to the public executioner’s block. Moments before the blade was swung, an elven servant emerged from the shadows and unleashed a scream so powerful, it woke the ocean. A tsunami drowned every fae servant master, carrying them out to sea.
“Knightingale told DaiSzek of her vision from the archangel, shared her knowledge of the war that was going to erupt between the many species across the world. Fae, elf, Druid, shades, beasts, dwarves, trolls. They left with the small army of loyalists they gathered along the way, setting sail for Dementia, the country where the fighting was the thickest. Seven divided races. All out to destroy each other. Over the years, DaiSzek learned of his own divine abilities. Portals to transport him through great distances. And when Knightingale was in trouble, threatened or harmed, he could shift the skies, bring darkness to the land, and call upon a dragon so magnificent, so devastating in war, it’s unclear if its existence was real or a metaphor, and its final resting place is still not known.”
I turn to glance at Skylenna and Dessin. They steal each other’s gaze multiple times. Silently communicating. Questioning. Admiring.
“On quiet nights sailing to Dementia, they would make plans to return to Neslanox after the war was over, living their life together in solitude, growing old in peace until they could return to heaven together. But the war had grown out of control. The seven races were threatening to destroy this world with the combat between light and dark magic. It was because of their different forms of magic that this world was imploding, turning them against each other. The archangel had returned to Knightingale to tell her of a world where the seven races could live in harmony. Where their separate natures wouldn’t be the cause of their fighting, where their magic could be at peace without rebellion.”
“What happened?” Ruth asks, leaning forward.
“DaiSzek and Knightingale arrived at the peak of the war, where their magic had spun out of control. They learned of a way to open an interdimensional portal together, giving each race a choice. Stay and live at odds with their magic, or go back to a world that would accept them. A world without humans.” Marilynn takes a shaky breath, blowing a shiny red strand of hair from her eyes. “It’s said they gave their lives so their people could return to their own world. They never made it to their own private island. Never got to grow old together.”
Something like fear and desperation flashes across Skylenna’s sharp features. Is she worried that’ll happen at the end of this road for them? That they’ll give their lives for this prophecy? This war? She’s always been so selfless. Always puts us before herself. I can’t imagine a world without her, without Dessin (even though he can be a dickhead). They’re my family.
“That’s so sad,” Ruth murmurs. Just like me, she looks at Dessin and Skylenna. We all do. Assessing their reaction to this story. Adjusting to the way they perceive it. But we’re all thinking the same thing. This story, in a way, sounds like a mythical version of what they’ve been through. Their traumatic pasts, hardships to end up together, and the way they literally would summon a dragon to save each other.
Their lives mirror one another.
Beautiful and tragic.
Hopeless and romantic.
My heart winds itself together in a spool of barbed wire.
“You’ll have your happy ending,” I announce, watching the way Skylenna and Dessin’s eyes return to reality and shift to me. “Unlike DaiSzek and Knightingale, you’ll make it to your Neslanox.”
To my surprise, Dessin’s eyes brighten. He smiles. He actually fucking smiles.
“To growing old together.” Dessin raises an imaginary glass.
Our group mimics his motion, holding our hands up as we say, “To growing old together.”
21. Induced Frenzy
Skylenna
Dessin has a plan.
He doesn’t dare breathe the details out loud. Why? Because an artist doesn’t reveal their painting until it’s complete. But no words need to be spoken for me to catch on to his shift in demeanor. I don’t miss how his attention roams each room we’re in. How he studies the timing, the schedule, the body language of each sentinel changing shifts. There is a good chance he already has the inner workings of this place down to a science.
But I don’t ask him about it yet.
“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask Ruth as we hear the announcer through the iron doors.
She narrows her eyes as she sorts through his fast, dramatic way of talking to the crowd. Her dark eyebrows pull together in confusion. The Ringmaster takes a long pause, then shouts something to which the crowd explodes.
“Oh god.” Her eyes widen, and she looks from Dessin to me in uncertainty. “He said…he said…”
“Spit it out, little rebel.” Warrose leans against the door with a bored expression.
