Page 84 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“Well, she knows mine. She’s been watching all this time. I had you pinned, you can’t use magic to win.”

“You used magic to get me down.” Raiden winked as he continued strolling. “All the more reason. What’s to stop her interfering with your web of memories? Swapping things out? Changing what happened?”

That was another thing. Kordelia was referred to as she quite a lot. As if uttering her name would summon her. Sirona checked in on Kora every night during her visits to Erick, constantly probing her scar, checking for cracks in her mental state.

“Can she do that? The things I see, it’s out of place. Like darkness at the edge of your vision before you pass out.” Kora shivered as Raiden led her through the gardens on the west side, weaving through magnificent trees and bushes overflowing with anemone. She rushed to keep up with him, the sequoias so wide she could lose him within a moment’s notice if she took a wrong turn.

“I have no idea. This is a first for anyone. Barron’s magic is unknown, and not recorded.”

“If only we could find some of the original texts,” Kora said as her mind drifted to her lessons with Aerion. “Books from the Devanian scholars could potentially explain everything we need to know about magic, a fugue state, and Barron. Aerion’s books are barely sixty years old. What about that archive?”

“We can’t go there.”

“Why? Any archive surely has scriptures from before the conquest.” Kora paced to match Raiden’s long strides.

He glanced back at her. “I’ll keep that in mind. But we can’t go there.”

“Can you at least answer one question? It’s not about my past.” Kora clasped her hands together as they deepened into the thick of the trees, ignoring how the last time she’d done this, Blake had betrayed her. Raiden nodded once as his hand brushed a tree engraved with a swirling cloud, turning right at its thick base.

She may have forgiven him, but she needed to know.

“Did you know Agatha? Why couldn’t you save her?”

“I don’t know who that is,” he replied as he followed a series of marked tree trunks.

“She was at Mossfell Castle. Grey hair, scolding nature. Blind. A stare that could kill you where you stood.”

Raiden stopped abruptly, turning to face Kora. “That was Agatha? You knew her?” His tone did nothing to comfort her. “I’m sorry. She . . . she said she couldn’t follow your path any longer. That her time was at its end. I tried to help, to convince her to come with us.”

Kora’s mouth gaped as she smothered the familiar grief lingering at the edge. She couldn’t mourn any longer, couldn’t succumb to the darkness beckoning her to hide away and allow Barron’s tainted version of Kordelia to assume control.

“She was my friend,” Kora responded as they continued through the woods. “She taught me about Devania, and magic.”

“She seemed wise,” Raiden mused. “She had magic herself.”

“What!” Kora tripped on a root, and a band of power wrapped around her arm as Raiden used his wind to steady her. Her cheeks blushed as his magic faded, leaving a cold coil of air around her arm.

“She transformed before my eyes, reverting to youth. Something I’ve never seen happen before. It’s like she knew she was going to die.”

Kora wracked her mind for hints of Agatha’s magic. She’d been perceptive in her blind state, with heightened senses and a skill for potions, but never beyond that. Had Agatha possessed a secret life? Was that why she’d sometimes cry in the back rooms, mourning something she never revealed to Kora?

But her skin . . . she’d reverted in age when Kora had sprinted to her body, desperate to save her from Mossfell Castle. Raiden couldn’t have saved Agatha. It hadn’t been his fault. Out of everyone, he’d been the most adamant to keep Kordelia mentally locked up, yet he’d also been the most distant physically . . . until recently.

She recalled flashes of her blue dome within the void, how Agatha had begged her to let the mysterious figure back into her mind, now understanding all this time it’d been Raiden. Somehow, Agatha knew he would help Kora.

“I miss her,” Kora admitted.

Raiden’s eyes saddened briefly and then he blinked. He clearly understood Kora didn’t want pity, she didn’t want to be doted upon and consoled. She wanted action, she wanted a new kind of revenge.

“Grief never leaves you,” he said, his voice scratching. “It gets a bit easier every day, but it will always be there.” Raiden marched on, not offering Kora the chance to ask who he’d lost as he pushed back a thicket to reveal a shimmering river cutting through the heart of a clearing.

Thick aspen trees surrounded them, their bases sturdy and wide, and light cascaded everywhere, bouncing off the crystal-clear river. Kora inhaled deeply as she scanned the ground. No broken roots, no shadowy pockets or misshapen hands. This wasn’t the Emerald Forest.

Shades of russet, burgundy, yellow, and brown entwined with green as autumn settled in. This clearing embodied calm, and the faintest of breezes wound through the aspens, coaxing Kora forward. Faint carvings lined every single tree, along with small ribbons and trinkets hanging from the lower branches.

“This river runs from the Horrow Mountains through Windspire’s grounds, and down to the sea by Mistros City. We’re in the Aspen Glade.” Raiden sat by the edge of the river, leaning back on his elbows.

“Is this someplace special?” She gestured to the trees.