LAVEN HEPHAESTUS ARVENALDI, II
My brothers are looking for me. Neither of them have checked through the bond, yet I can feel them on the search as I walk around the courtyard. I am greeted by various people who tend to talk badly behind closed doors but play nice when in front of you.
“High Prince Laven, another beautiful Solstice.” Mrs. Yeshti says as she places her hand on mine. “Most beautiful Solstice I have seen, did the High King arrange the decorators?” She pretentiously asks.
“No,” I smile removing her hand from mine. “My mother arranged the decorators, they are our servants from Quamfasi, stunning is it not?” I ask while looking around.
Her face falls at the mention of who the decorators are, but she catches herself. “Yes, pretty it is.”
“Laven!” Amias hollers from a distance behind me.
“If you would excuse me,” I hold my hand up to her and she leaves.
When I gaze back, the three of my brothers are standing there with Stravan.
As I look in their eyes, they are all filled with tension, even in their stance they are on edge.
“What is wrong?”
“We all have a short venture to go on.” Stravan aggressively grips my arm, and before I can blink, we are ascending at his doing.
When we land, we are thrown to the dirt in the woods.
Glancing around I come to the realization as to where we are. “Why are we in the Terseian Mountains?”
Roaner is also on high alert. His eyes dance through the woods, searching for any outsider on the attack under Stravan’s orders.
“You tell me, Laven. Why are we here?”
“Stop playing some guessing game and just tell me.”
Stravan turns to look at the tops of the mountains.
“Why would my children act out of their normal when over these mountains? What is up there?”
He cannot truly believe that Dyena will be hidden within the mountains.
“Stravan, there is no possible way that Dyena is within here.” I begin. “We–”
“Ah,” he holds up a finger, stopping me from continuing. “Why do you doubt it so quickly?”
“Because we would know if she were there. It would have been brought to our attention that she is roaming the mountains all this time.”
“And who is to say she is roaming freely? Who is to say that she was not put there?”
There is a rise of anger within him, it is accelerating at a speed I cannot keep up with.
“I see it this way,” he slowly paces back and forth in front of us. “Either you can tell me the truth, or one of your lives can be taken.”
We look between one another.
“Stravan, none of us know of her taking. Ever since we were children it was spoken of as some tale to tell before bed. How would we as children know where she has been taken to? Let alone be part of her capture.”
And just as I finish, there is a soaring pain that rushes through every part of my body. It is crippling, bringing not only me to the ground but Amias, Roaner, and Morano as well.
I stiffen as I try to move and that stiffening turns to torture.
There is a chuckle that comes from Stravan as he continues to pace.
He looks over at us.
“You are even weaker than I thought.” He mumbles.
Roaner grips the ground, one boot slams into the earth as he struggles to his feet. He falls back to the ground, but again he is up and I struggle to follow, but even through the pain, I do.
Stravan looks to us. “You two are stronger than the others.”
I try to speak, but any bit of movement sears a deeper pain throughout every part of my body.
“How about now?” Stravan waves a hand and Esme appears on the ground. She is curled and dirty, her clothing is shredded to nearly nothing as she lies limply on the ground. “Will you tell me what sits in the mountains now?”
The deepest scream of pure agony tears through the woods as Roaner’s magic erupts through Stravan’s.
He weakly crawls across the ground, but the moment he touches Esme, she fades away as if she was never there. Frantically, Roaner looks around. He is gasping for air as he stumbles to his feet.
“The imagination works mysteriously does it not?”
“You can torment us all you wish. We know nothing.”
Roaner comes falling to the ground again at Stravan’s will.
“I can do this all night until one of you collapses to their death. If I am smart, the first I will get rid of is this one.” He points to Morano who cripples further to the ground. “Then I get rid of the High Prince’s hand, and then the rest of you one by one.”
“Stravan, stop!”
I cannot move to see her, but I can hear my mother yelling through the woods and coming closer.
“And you,” Stravan domes a shield around her, it radiates in through the darkness in a bright grey. “Apolla, you and I will have a word.”
“They know nothing, I swear it. Let them go, I am the one who knows everything, please.” Her words break the more she speaks. “Let my boys go home, they know nothing of what occurred here. I have not spoken a word to them.”
It begins to strain too hard to think. Just to form a word to speak draws more strength out of me. Yet, it could just be Stravan taking more life from me by the second. I have felt pain like this once before and prospered through it, I can do it again.
“And what is it that you know?” Stravan urges for clarity.
His blue eyes flare like hues the more his fury rises.
“Let them go and I will tell you. I give you my word, let them go, and I will tell you everything.” It is a rarity for my mother to swear her word.
Something is shouting to me that she should not be telling him what she knows.
There is nothing I can do about it in my state.
Stravan is now only focusing his powers on myself and Roaner.
“I swear it, I will give you anything you ask.” My mother offers more and Stravan studies her.
Suddenly, the pain is gone.
It does not gradually leave; it is taken away immediately as if we never felt what happened and this sends me into a short shock. Amias is quickly catching me as I stumble.
“Go, I will be home soon.” Ma looks to us behind the shield still trapping her.
“Ah,” Stravan warns as I stand up on my own. “You will want to stay.”
I struggle to breathe. “I would not dare to leave my mother with you.”
“Not for your mother, for her.” He points through the woods. “You may come out now.”
“Do not jest me.” I snap at him.
Roaner grips my arm as Ivella appears.
No, it is not possible . . .
“How do I know this is not another one of your little tricks?”
I look over her for a single sight of something being out of place.
The moment I step forward, there is a hard shield placed in front of me.
“You do not go near her. Not until I have this all solved.”
“What the hell does she have to do with this?” I demand.
“You will see . . .” Stravan turns to my mother who is still trapped beneath his unmoving barrier. “Care to speak?”
She glances between Ivella and me.
“Dyena has been transferred from multiple different hiding spaces. Artemis is who took her those years ago because she wanted the strength of the Vaultais to hold a bloodline within our realm—the Realm of the Wolves.
“The day Artemis took her she had Hermes capture her soul. They divided it and had it put into Ivella the day she was born. Artemis gave Ivella the bits of Dyena’s soul that contain her powers. Through the pits of our souls is where our powers lie, no matter your kind or the realm you are from, your powers are not just an ability, it is who you are in your soul. There are still parts of Dyena’s soul that Artemis left within her to preserve her immortality, but she gave Ivella her strength and gifts.
“It has nothing to do with someone being chosen or specially picked. It is by pure coincidence that Ivella was the child to be birthed twenty-four years ago. She was stillborn and then given life again by the transfer of souls.”
My mind runs rapidly trying to position every word my mother has said.
Then it occurs to me.
When we get to Dyena, Stravan will demand Ivella’s life for hers.
“Over my dead body will he do so.” Morano says. “There is a way out of this.”
“How?”
“The Blood Bond Ritual. The moon is finally beaming, we have time.”
“And what if even through the Blood Bond Ritual she dies?”
Morano does not respond.
Ivella is staring at the ground. It seems like she may faint right in front of us.
“Then explain to me why their features favor one another.” Stravan demands. “You have seen Dyena before, and now you are looking at Ivella. Explain why they look nearly identical!”
“It could be because of the transfer of their souls.” My mother stays calm. “That is the only answer I can form for that. But Ivella looks like her parents, they could be doppelgangers, plenty of people within our world look exactly alike with no trace of being related. The same goes for Laven and Roaner, they have looked similar all their life and are not related by any mean other than by ritual.”
The shield is removed from my mother and slowly she stands.
“Where is she?” Stravan asks.
“The Caves, I am the only person that knows the way in. It is locked by magic.”
“And does your brute of a King know of this?”
My mother immediately shakes her head. “No, Artemis strictly arranged this with me. No one else knows.”
“Take us there,” Stravan nods for my mother to go first.
I make a fast line for Ivella, but death grasps my shoulder. “All of us go.” I snatch out of Stravan’s grip and go to her.
The moment I am near, she continues gazing at the ground still as the night.
Finally, she adverts upward, as I reach to touch her cheek Stravan shouts.
“Move your feet, Princeling. And do not even dare to think of ascending her from here.”
* * *
We have moved farther up the mountains, reaching the depths of the caves.
Ivella stumbles up the uneven ground as we trail around the mountain. I grab her arm to prevent her from going over the edge and Stravan tensely swivels around.
“I am preventing her from falling, if she is the answer to all of this, you want her protected, correct?” He only stares at my hand now wrapped over her arm. “This ground is wet, cracked and pebbled. Her shoes are not meant for it.”
I reach lower and he observes every movement from me leaning down, lifting her from the ground, and into my arms.
“Get moving,” he demands.
I hold her closer and she wraps around my neck, tightly gripping, and reluctantly we carry on.
She does not talk, though she does not have to. I see the desperation and defeat in her eyes as she stares at me. In her eyes, that green I know well transforms the visions of every beautiful life I once saw into never-ending nightmares with threatening verisimilitude. I am now forced to no longer see her in fanciful fabrications. This is real, and she may perish, and I could leave this mountain carrying a body bereft of life.
Have we not equally lived through enough pain in our short time of life?
Must death be layered on top of it all?
‘We are not exactly the luckiest nor the most loved beings the Gods have created. We are given mates, someone specifically crafted and created only for us. Either we fall in love with everything about them or not—there is always that deep-rooted connection that holds our soul to the earth. When they perish, we do as well; we may still be here, but it feels as if we are dead—a walking, living corpse. We have the chance to hold on to immortality and youth if we continue to phase into our Wolves, yet all that means is merely living, being here as just an object. When they die, a part of us dies as well. We can either live with the emptiness or end it all to be with the person destined for us. Those are our options. We carry on cut in half or die to be whole again. There is no living in-between the two after someone so dear to you is ripped away.’
I have spent years being assured that her life lives on for the sake of my own, and in my own ignorance, there is that regretful fragment of the unknown that prevents my certainty.
She is the reason for every breath I take and every last.
Her head rests against mine and she presses closer.
The path upward grows steeper and my brothers close in tighter.
Amias treads directly in front of me with Morano and Roaner behind me.
The rigid stone alongside us grows wetter the farther we walk, the air is growing tighter as we reach the most open the mountains can be. It is pivotal to see such grime burgeoning when we were just lavishly celebrating a night that is to be considered our most reverent.
Ahead, I see my mother begin to slow down and Amias stops. He outstretches his arm, preventing me from walking any further.
He too is aware.
Ivella lifts her hand, and with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, urging him forward, Amias intakes a sharp breath before proceeding.
My mother has come to a full stop in her lead.
“She is behind here?” Stravan asks pressing his hand against the wooden door. His eyes widen and his ear presses to the door. “I can hear her breathing, open it, now!”
My mother nods, making haste to open the door that has not a single handle or knob connected to it.
There is a desperation in Stravan as the door lifts.
Each second, I see his hands tremble more.
As much as I try to visualize him as the villain, I see myself in him. I would react the same if someone did this with Ivella. It is a different kind of loss that I could not ever understand, nor do I wish to.
Just as my mother said, Dyena is here.
She lies flat on her back with a large bed stone beneath her.
“Dyena!” He shouts as he engulfs her cheeks standing beside her. “She is still in the same clothing,” he says in relief. “Dyena?” He pleads once more.
As Stravan said, it is nearly frightening how close in similarity Ivella and Dyena are. The longer I look at her, the more I begin to see Ivella.
His eyes lift to Ivella and this time, I do not care what he says.
“No,” I tug her away from him.
Stravan’s eyes narrow. “A life for a life, Laven.”
Ivella’s hand grips my own as she peers around me, fixating on Dyena.
I hold her tighter. “You can go to hell.”
“There is an alternative for this.” Morano urgently announces. “It is Summer Solstice, the only known time to perform a Blood Bond Ritual. The ritual is known to heal the weak and even give life. It is the only method closest to the Tree of Gods to bring a life that is just hanging by a thread back to earth.”
I will go as far as begging this man.
He should know. He can tell.
Just by looking at us, you know we are a part of one another.
“All right then,” he gazes between both me and Ivella. “I am not wasting any more time than I already have.” Stravan motions for Morano. “We do it now.”
* * *
I already know it now. If she somehow departs from this life in the process of the ritual, I will find my own way of parting as well.
“Are you all right with doing this?”
More. I should be asking so much more, and I cannot.
How are you processing all of this?
Did you know?
Have your parents spoken of this with you?
While nodding she continues to stare at the woman on the stone bed.
“Yes, I am fine with it.” As the words are said, I hear that hint of ambiguity in her voice.
She does not want to, no one would. She is doing this for the sake of our lives.
“We need a High Priest or High Priestess; we cannot perform the ritual without one present.” Morano attempts an excuse.
It is a lie. We do not need a High Priestess or High Priest. There are plenty of people in the world who have done the Blood Bond Ritual without them because they could not acquire a Priest or Priestess.
He as well seems too afraid of what will happen.
We cannot avoid that there could be a likelihood of this going unbearably wrong, not only for me, but for Stravan as well.
What if all the life within Ivella returns to Dyena?
If Ivella was stillborn, what are the potentials of her returning to that?
Deteriorating to her original form of never being meant to exist.
“Do not fuck with me,” Stravan aggressively speaks at Morano. “You will perform this ritual whether you want to or not.”
Ivella looks around the cave, her eyes land on a small sharp rock. She retrieves it from the ground and holds it out to Morano.
“The only choice there is, is to try.” Ivella aims to reason with Morano.
Giving a slight nod, finally, he takes it.
There is a great deal I should be saying—words that should be tumbling from my mouth as she walks away from me. Yet, I cannot bring myself to profess love at the last moment, there is not enough time in the world to utter a syllable about the depths that my love reaches to for her.
Even in death I hold hope of being with Ivella as I should be.
My grave could not hold me from coming back for her.
“How is it done?” Stravan asks.
Morano explains the process to him while holding Ivella’s hand behind him. He further explains that even with Dyena being of Fae blood, the ritual is still possible.
Ivella’s eyes are blown like a doe in astonishment. I have ever seen her go as pale as she is now looking at Dyena.
I step nearer to them. “When this is complete what comes next?”
Stravan’s eyes find Dyena’s almost lifeless body. “She will decide.” He then turns to Morano and gestures for him to perform the ritual.
“You do not command me around.” He says through clenched teeth.
Stravan raises an eyebrow. “Right now, in this specific moment, yes I do.”
Morano opens his mouth to reject his orders again, before I can stop him, Ivella does.
“Morano,” she quietly speaks.
As he turns to her, there is a smile on her face, as confident of a smile as she can give him.
“What if you die?”
He is worried. I knew he would be.
“What if you die?” She asks in return.
He says nothing.
“Come now,” Ivella steps closer to Dyena and she tightens her grip on Morano’s hand to subdue the tremors trailing over her fingers.
She holds out her wrist to Morano, stiffly, she lifts Dyena’s hand showing her wrist as well.
As the sharpest edge of the rock pulls blood to Ivella’s wrist, I can hear my mother trying to edge into my mind.
“Remember to breathe, my love.” She says in the calmest tone I have ever heard.
I continue to stare ahead of me.
Secrets, so many secrets she has kept yet I struggle to hold them over her because she is my mother.
“If anything happens, get Ivella to the Tree of Gods. I can hold off Stravan long enough for you to get there.” Roaner spews a plan to us all.
“It will have to be Morano to take her, he is the only one who can pass the border.” Amias adds.
“I will get through that fucking border, even if I have to blow it into a million pieces. I am the one who will take her.” I put in the final word as we anxiously observe Morano connecting Ivella and Dyena’s wrists.
Ivella gently wraps her fingers around Dyena’s forearm to keep their wrists intact.
“It is working,” Morano speaks as he rapidly looks between their conjoined wrists and Ivella.
Still fine. Still alive.
Stay, Maivena. You have to stay.
The veins in their hands begin to ignite gold, nearly as bright as the sun at its most golden hour. This is the transfer of their blood mixing within one another while giving Dyena life to her soul as well.
There is gentle movement in Dyena’s fingers and Stravan hovers over her face, waiting for her eyes to open. Yet, I am waiting for Ivella’s eyes to close. Praying the strongest prayer I have ever given to the Gods.
Dyena’s lip’s part, intaking short breaths as we watch life return to her.
And then, there they are. The beaming green eyes that replicate Ivella’s.
The golden hues radiating from their skin begins to diffuse and we know the bond is complete.
As Ivella pulls her hand from Dyena’s, the small cut to her wrist heals over, leaving a fine small line.
Her thumb rubs over her wrist, staring at it.
“You played the song.” Dyena speaks in a tone that is hoarse and rasped.
Stravan has no words to respond, he only nods as tears pour down his face and drip to her cheeks.
He is gathering her from the stone bed and into his arms, cradling her so she does not have to walk. If she stepped a foot onto the ground, she would topple over given how many years she has been held solitary.
Dyena looks around at us, her eyes fall upon Ivella.
“I could hear you all here,” she says continuing to glance at the faces surrounding her.
“I am sorry, deeper than that if there is a word for it.” My mother pleads. “I was not given a choice. There were repercussions if I said no to Artemis, she held a threat over my bloodline if I decided to deny her holding you here. Even now I do not know what will happen. I am sure she is aware of you holding parts of your soul she wished to keep wholly within Ivella.”
“Did you deny her when she first asked?” Stravan questions.
She nods. “Yes, then she threatened to take Laven for my denial. I had no choice but to do as she demanded. I was not going to allow her to take my only child.”
“Before you condemn her once more,” Amias speaks. “Let us not forget that there is no such thing as denying a God without grave risks attached to it. And the Gods are liars. I am sure Artemis planned to do more than just take Laven if she were denied.”
Did my father know of this?
Dyena gazes at Stravan. “You of all people perceive what it means to be pressured into dark tasks for the Gods with a threat lying behind it.”
“That was when I was a naïve teenager. We are all–”
“Naïve or not.” Dyena struggles to be gracious, her glare set on my mother is deadly, but even she comprehends the severity behind an ultimatum from a God. “No, I am not of the same mind as Apolla, but her reasoning was grave. Your vengeance and mine is with the Gods, not her.” Nevertheless, Ma will never be trusted nor fully welcomed by the Realm of the Fae standing alone.
“Thank you,” Dyena looks to Ivella with a weak smile. “You knew the risk of your life and still you chose to aid me. I will owe you for eternity.”
Ivella does not need to say it. But she did not do this for Dyena. She did this to spare our lives even if it meant hers being lost.
Ivella only nods, returning the smile.
“And you will not treat these men as you did outside.” Dyena scolds Stravan. “I heard you down there. You will teach them to strengthen and wield their powers as you do. These young men had nothing to do with this.”
“You have only been back for mere minutes, and you are already reprimanding me.” Stravan stares at her with the yawning endearment as she glares at him.
“You would not have it any other way.” She says knowingly.
Turning her head to us again. “We will see one another soon enough. Thank you.” Dyena bids once more as Stravan leads the way out of the cave.
The Dragons are swarming above us when we reach the opening, they are elated at the sight of their mother.
As I turn to Ivella, she is walking away—moving farther into the woods and then, ascending before I can call out for her.
