Blood Bound ||The Arcane Legacy #1

30/ All Aboard

Avira's stomach churned with each sway of the ship as the waters battered its sides. The nauseous sensation swirled in her chest and she gulped mouthfuls of the stuffy air congesting the room. Her fingers dug into the paper-thin mattress.

She was in her assigned quarters, sitting cross-legged on the low bed with sheets rumpled around her. Her airy shirt was glued to her body by the cool sweat on her back. Her toes wriggled uncomfortably at the humidity of the room. There were no windows—which made sense—so the urge to open the door was stifling. The boat jerked once more.

With one hand propping her erect, she held the sapphire pendant in the other. Avira stared at the gem, taking in the crack that lined its surface. Its bright blue sheen had dulled significantly. Even when she tried to reach for her magic through it, it barely responded.

Tightening her fist over the pendant, she sighed at the ceiling. Perhaps it was by divine judgment, a sign that the Spirits had cut away her accesses to magic. And they had every right to do so.

Every time she blinked, even for a millisecond, she saw the flames and bodies and blood... The choking smell of smoke was still fresh in her nose, her skin recalling the sparks dancing all over her body.

She had murdered an entire town of thousands; innocent lives caught in the crossfire of her wild magic. She had killed before—that, she couldn't deny. But in those instances, she had been under the mercy of another's will. She had gotten no say in what she did, so she had let go of that plaguing guilt. It hadn't been her fault. They had made her kill.

But this time...

Avira didn't even know how to justify herself. She had been endangered, so had her companions, but not by the townspeople. They had done nothing to her. They were not at fault. Yet she burnt them to ash.

The weight of all those lives lost was overwhelming, crushing her chest inward till she couldn't breathe. Culpability sank its teeth into her soul and ripped it to shreds—and she let it. Her eyes closed, only to be welcomed by the land of fire, smoke, and ash. Her heart palpitated so fiercely she just knew it would give out in a matter of seconds.

Tears pricked her eyes but they didn't fall, as though knowing that they couldn't atone for her sins. Instead, she gathered herself into an upright fetal position and chewed on her bottom lips, pondering.

Then she thought back to that moment when the Shivane woman had jabbed her shoulder with her katana. Her shoulder throbbed in response, though the wound had long been healed. It was at that moment that she had felt death's grip. The thought of dying was too much to bear.

Until that voice called to her. A voice filled with echoes and shadows and thunderstorms. At that moment, time had frozen as the voice pulled her into the floating nothingness. Its words were still fresh in her mind. "Do you accept this awful power?"

She had, but what kind of power was that? It was unlike anything ever heard of, springing from darkness to darkness. Just the taste of it was destructible and terrible. But she had accepted. And then burned down the small town. 

A small line formed between her eyes. Maybe some part of her had known what would have happened. Maybe she had accepted it because of what the power offered. Did that make her like King Brannon, like the High Maester? Had their influence crept up on her without her feeling it?

The sickening part was that a very small part of her enjoyed that immense power.

She gazed at the dull surface of the gem once more. She could still feel the ancient power resonating within it. Avira gave a light whelp and tossed it at the wall, watching it fall with a light clatter. She wanted nothing to do with that stone again. If that was what magic brought upon the world, she'd rather live without her power.