He doesn’t need his magic to do that to me.
I nod at him, and he runs a hand down my arm, back to the position of clasping my hand, as if he’s not quite ready to give up any contact between us.
“They’ll take prisoners as soon as they tip the battle in their favour,” he goes on to explain.
“From which side?” I ask. There will be Kirrians from both sides fighting.
“That depends on who got in their way. There will be casualties on both sides.”
Crimson. Kalan. Ascella.
I scan the areas again, looking for Calix, Lyle and Kyra, wishing I’d told them to hide or stay safe, and not to run back here, but knowing that the image of all those people I stole power from in Nehandun—lying on the ground—forced me to push them away.
Ten says to trust them, but with so many potential threats, it’s hard to do that. I hope to all the stars, they’re okay.
“This battle isn’t about the Usher or the danger to Kirrasia anymore. This is about the Orders. How they’ve been complicit in keeping the past hidden to maintain their current power. We don’t know who to trust, but we have to get to someone—make someone listen. Whatever we think, right or wrong, the Chamber are corrupt,” Ten states.
“Kamari is,” I remind him of her work in this.
“She’s carried on the lie, helped weave it, and kept the memories hidden by helping move the right people and hide their true intentions. She warned us herself. What I can’t see is her endgame. Why?” Ten’s frustration sounds in his words, and I know it must be hard now, looking to work out the pieces and not having his gift to help slot them into place. “Come on. We need to get to The Tower. To my father.”
“Are you sure?”
“You might have won the war with the Gods, but there’s still the Orders, and their rules over how our entire society is structured and built. The rewards for the powerful and the dismissal of anyone less haven’t led to a stronger Kirrasia. It’s created a divided one.”
“Continuing what my parents started,” I whisper, almost afraid to admit it.
“This won’t go away. It never will, and it can’t be hidden again. Not now.”
Ten squeezes my hand and leads us down the narrow stony path until we arrive behind the stables.
The fighting looks like it was focused on reaching the gate to The Court, as there isn’t anyone still fighting. There are bodies, though, between our position and The Court.
Ten grabs a cloak from one of the Warriors on the ground and covers me in it, before linking his arm through mine, and we sneak inside, staying close to the wall, as if shadows will aid us. He steps through smaller alleyways, taking a less direct path from the centre road to The Tower.
It’s a shell of the vibrant city I first saw, and I fear that despite our own battle and sacrifice, the bigger war is still to come. One that will be harder to win.
As we get closer, there are more people—more Guards and Warriors—in the streets. We duck and race for cover, avoiding watching eyes until we’re nearly at the centre. Ten pulls us behind a block of Warrior homes, and we see a larger gathering of people in front of the steps up to the Tower.
He beckons me to follow, and we sneak closer, remaining concealed, taking up a position with a direct line of sight to the steps.
The wooden door of the Tower creaks open, sending a ripple of silence over the people ahead of us. They are the citizens of Kirrasia. Normal people, confusion and fear clouding them from the fighting that’s consumed the land.
Ten’s father, Orion Ciro, comes into view, flanked by Two Warriors and a Guard, and not in a good way. Weapons block his retreat and urge him forward.
“Surrender, Ciro.” Kamari uncovers herself from the front of the crowd and steps up to challenge him.
“Surrender to you? Never. You have no authority here.”
The Warriors knock him to his knees, and I see a flash of the angry man who first confronted me in the Great Hall. I expect Ten to run, to spring forward in defence of his father, but he stays. Watching.
“You are old. You are weak. You banished your own son. You do not speak for the Chamber, or the Orders,” Kamari lords over the assembled people around her, painting herself as the victor in this. She has a number of Guards behind her, cloaked in the bright purple hue of their Order. But as I look closer, I see that there are others, too: Warriors, Elementals and Naturals, dressed in uniform, setting them aside from those who have come to wait for answers.
These are the ones who have chosen to side with her, helping her to overthrow the Head of the Warrior Order.
“You have dripped poison and lies to all of us, Kamari. For what? The desperate grasp to seek power for yourself? Being the Head of the Order wasn’t enough for you?” Orion argues.
“Enough with your posturing and self-imposed rule, Ciro. It’s you who clings to power as if you might be the first to evade the inevitable and keep the magic you were granted. You’re not the first to want that, but there is another way.”
