Abbernathy and the Cat Kingdom

(37) - Calleighdia -

The Dying City of Evernight, Home to the Shadow King

The fabric of the night, that'd embraced the Dying City since its inception, rippled as three creatures were spat onto its barren streets. A bloody Calleighdia laid limp and unconscious along the cold stone, flanked on either side by her sisters, Nhia and Nima. The Archmage came to with a groan, her neck throbbing in the place where her flesh had been ripped open. It took most of her energy to sit, but she did, horror breaking over her as she realized where she was - the Evernight, Home of Shadows, and of High King Gravious. 

She shuddered and grasped desperately for her sisters. Each of their bodies remained still, their fingers bent in awkward directions, broken by the fall into the realm. Calleighdia braced herself, and her fingers brushed against something hard and long. She squinted. Feign's ax lay behind her, its hilt cracked in half, blade split in two. She turned her head, looking for its owner, but Feign's body was no where in sight. 

She was certain he'd been dragged into the portal alongside her, though what use would he be to her masters now that he was dead? 

Blood trickled down Calleighdia's fur and dappled her dress. Heaving, she stood up and turned. Not a single breeze blew through the dead city, and the humidity was stifling. Sweat poured into Calleighdia's eyes, burning them. 

Burn, she thought. Burn. Calleighdia stretched her fingers, calling on the realm's magick to rally to her side. She'd made the sacrifice, so the magick, even here, would obey her, would coil around her fingertips and allow itself to be shaped into Calleighdia's flames.

With her fire to guide her, the archmage believed she'd be able to find an exit to the Evernight, and escape the wrath she was sure to encounter if she lingered a second longer in this place. Calleighdia had failed her masters and there'd been a reason she'd been summoned here. 

The magick didn't heed her desperate pleas for its strength. Electricity didn't prickle Calleighdia's skin, didn't make her fur stand on edge. She sighed and crumpled beside one of her sisters, staring into the slitted blue eyes long since emptied of their life.

Cycles of dirt and dried blood marked the creature's grey fur, but Calleighdia could still remember how beautiful that fur had been, how pale and almost luminescent it had been, like the moon. How those eyes had once reflected the archmage in them when she'd been younger, happier, naive.

Nhia, Calleighdia thought. Beloved sister.

Calleighdia let her own body's exhaustion drag her to the ground, the cold stone a striking contrast to the sweltering heat. She shuddered, teeth chattering in her head. She felt cycles older, the loss of one of her vessels taking its toll. The cursemark constricted around her arms and neck, sapping her of her remaining life force. A patch of grey fur sprung up around her wrist. 

Calleighdia sighed, the sound followed by a rustling of skirts. Nima stirred, the soft fabric of her veil dancing on the wind from an open window.

When had that happened? When had they been moved inside?

The Archmage stumbled to her feet. She'd failed both her sisters, long before she'd begged the realms to use their magick, back when she'd been Calle Pridem, empty blood and a simple sea riders's daughter. But she would not fail them again.

Memories shoved their way to the forefront of Calleighdia's mind as she struggled to remain standing upright.

It'd been five years since Calleighdia had felt the searing repercussions of the rebellion on her life that had reduced everything she'd known, everything she'd cherished, to ash. It'd begun with a royal summons given to her father, demanding he take to the Black Sea on the night of Myen' darr's storm. He was to deliver food for the weak and pregnant Crescent Moon Queen.