Phantom Hunters | Saphir Casters Academy

37 | The Woman Who Has No Aura

XXXVII | THE WOMAN WHO HAS NO AURA

    It was a curious thing, how he had found it when he wasn't looking for it. Kly stared at the glimmering emerald stone embedded into the ground.

    When the voices in his ears faded away, and the visions in his mind warped into oblivion, Kly gathered himself by taking deep breaths before putting on his glove. For some reason, all he could think of was that this must have been why no one was allowed to step on the mosaic. The moment anyone grazed it, they would have been overcome with the flashes of the past and an intense desire for power like Kly had.

    Once again, Kly approached the startlingly vibrant tile, thinking of how it would have blended in seamlessly with the others at an earlier age. He pulled out a small whittling knife and carefully pried it from its puzzle. He had to destroy it before anyone else got to it. He really hadn't expected to find it here, especially when the place had been ransacked for centuries.

    It seemed that Wajidi had been a wise king. And the legends of Armatia were true. A cold chill ran down Kly's spine. This was really bad. He wrapped the tessera in a handkerchief, thinking of ways to dispose of it. He could toss it into the Anglowan Ocean as he returned home, but that didn't guarantee that it would stay hidden forever.

    The knowledge of its existence was dangerous by itself, but at the hands of the wrong people — even at the hands of the right people — it was something that could tear down the strained peace the world maintained for years, resurfacing global political tensions and war, creating chaos with dangerous magic. Kly carefully placed the piece into his pocket, feeling a sudden weight drop on his shoulders as if he was carrying the world. He couldn't wrap his mind around how something that could bring universal chaos was resting in his pocket next to his father's notebook.

    It wasn't worth the risk. Even if he would find what he'd been looking for, it was too dangerous to use it for his cause. The pain he'd seen when he grazed it...it was too deleterious for it to be announced into the world. The palace turned cold, as if a great dark force was watching Kly, accusing him of thieving. He shuddered and turned on his heel to get out of there.

    The cold breeze from the night air greeted Kly as he left the palace. He knew he should have left earlier. Rushil would probably be mad at how long Kly was gone. Or the guide probably thought Kly had died in the city because he decided to enter it. What would the man's reaction be if he found out Kly had the fate of the world resting in his pocket?

    A crescent moon shone down on the city, casting long, warped shadows from torn buildings. Kly felt the hairs on his neck stand at the sight. If he was superstitious, he would have half expected a ghost to come out and drag him away.

    On instinct, Kly quickened his pace. His boots crunched against the stray stones, turning them into dust. He didn't like the feeling of the ruins at night. It almost felt alive under the darkness.

    He nearly broke into a run when he saw the entrance where Rushil would be waiting. It was all too relieving when he finally stepped down onto the sand.

    "Rushil," Kly called out. He could see the dark outlines of the rhinos, but the guide was nowhere to be seen. Kly approached the resting beasts, reassured by their deep rumbling breaths. All he wanted to do was return to the safety of the village.

    He touched the rhino he had ridden. Buqawin, it was called, meaning strong-horned in the Arridian language, Arcriza. It grunted at his touch, slightly shaking its massive head and flicking its ears.