The Flames that Bind Us Book 2
Auteur
Suri Sabri
Lezers
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Hoofdstukken
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In a world where magic and royalty intertwine, Lydia Voltaire embarks on a perilous journey to uncover the truth behind the mysterious disappearance of the kingdom's royals. As she delves deeper, Lydia discovers hidden powers, dark rituals, and a web of deceit that threatens to unravel everything she holds dear. With allies by her side and enemies lurking in the shadows, Lydia must navigate a treacherous path to save her kingdom and those she loves.
Epilogue
LYDIA
Lydia crashed down the hill to the city center. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. The Book of Decimus thumped against her body.
She had to find Aramis.
He was the only one who could help her and the other Slifers. He was the only one who had a connection to the Gods.
When, an hour before, Lydia got to the square from the Garden of Nobly Remembered, she joined the Slifers, who were huddled together.
Ayana hyperventilated while Redmond held her hand. He looked at the ground and said nothing.
“So?!” Lydia gasped. “What are we going to do?”
Elise looked at her. Lydia had not considered the possibility that no one would know. That no one would have a plan to find the royalty of Ignolia. But the blank looks on the Slifers’ faces showed they were just as clueless as Lydia.
“Where were you?” a small voice asked behind her. Turning, Lydia saw Princess Lis. Her face was stony.
“I was…” Lydia began, before she realized she could not say.
“You were supposed to protect him,” Lis said. The ice in her eyes practically made Lydia’s blood run cold.
“Lis…” Lydia began. What could she have done, even if she had been there?
David materialized behind the Princess. He gave Lydia a small smile.
“Baby,” he said to Lis, “let’s go.”
Tears were starting to form in Lis’s eyes. She did not blink as she looked at the Fire Slifer. She turned away wordlessly.
“I’m going to find him!” Lydia called to the Princess’s back.
Turning to the Slifers, Lydia knew there was only one man who could help them. Well, one dwarf, actually.
Which was what brought her to Aramis’s bookshop.
Arriving breathless, Lydia banged on the door. When he didn’t answer, she knocked so hard the wood threatened to split with the force.
She tilted back her head, closed her eyes, and sighed. When she opened them, the door was cracked open.
“Aramis!” she cried, letting herself in.
But the dwarf was nowhere to be seen. The shop was dark and cool, as if it had been uninhabited for days.
Where could Aramis have gone? And if he wasn’t here, who opened the door?
Lydia drifted through the space. For the first time since the royalty of Ignolia disappeared, she had a moment to think.
What was she going to do? Aramis wasn’t here, and Lydia had no idea where else to turn.
Aramis’s old threadbare couch was sitting in its usual place, and Lydia collapsed onto it. She dropped the book on the table. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples.
Suddenly, she heard the ignition of flame. Opening her eyes, she saw the fireplace was lit, as well as the candles. The space felt warm again and bright.
She was about to call for Aramis when she noticed a figure standing in the corner.
“Gods!” Lydia gasped, practically jumping out of her skin.
“Don’t fear, child of the flame,” the figure said in a low and even voice. Lydia found it soothed her even as her heart beat wildly.
She stood. “Who are you?”
The figure didn’t seem like a Wizard Hunter, but Lydia couldn’t be too careful.
The figure remained in his place. He was taller than Lydia, and he wore a black cloak with a hood that covered his face.
Glancing at the table, Lydia realized The Book of Decimus had disappeared. That was weird.
The figure began to speak.
“You might find that you know who I am,” he said, “if you look inside yourself.”
After a pause, Lydia replied, “I’m not finding anything.”
He said nothing, but all the fires in the room began to grow. Bright flames curled out from the fireplace. The candles blazed.
Suddenly, in her bones, Lydia knew.
“You’re Decimus,” she whispered.
The fires continued to burn brighter. Lydia felt the heat on her skin. The quality of the flames was so powerful Lydia knew he could burn down the whole building in an instant, but he didn’t.
“And you’re my daughter. Lydia Voltaire, Fire Slifer.”
At these words, Lydia felt a warmth in her heart she had never felt before. The feeling of acceptance warmed her whole body. The feeling of family.
He stepped closer to her, and under his hood, she could see eyes that burned like her own.
“My father…” Lydia made out, hardly a whisper. With that, the figure pulled her toward him, and she was wrapped in a giant bear hug.
The pair stayed like this for a moment—holding one another for the first time. Lydia’s heart, which had felt so much that day, felt like it might burst.
He held her at arm’s length. “Now, firefly, let me look at you.”
She could still hardly make out his features, but she could feel inhuman power radiating off him. He was a God, after all.
“You are so beautiful. So full of life,” he said. “How about we make a tea and have a long chat?”
Immediately, the familiarly acrid smell of tea filled the room. The smell of…pumpkin tea.
Lydia gasped. “You’re Aramis, too?!”
“Indeed, my child,” her father boomed, “I have been with you all along.”
“Now, I will get us some tea.” His eyes blazed with warmth and love. “And then we really must get down to business.”
LUCIUS
Lucius looked out through the red haze.
The Peak of Madness. It had become familiar territory to him, unfortunately.
There was nothing pleasant about the crags of the mountain, sharp as broken glass. And the hazy, rotten air that hung, unmoving, never became bright as day and never as dark as night.
The shrieks of deranged vultures rang out as they scoured the rock for any possible dead thing.
Lucius’s camp was halfway up the mountain. He had conjured a small tent and a stove, a little pool for washing. It was home enough.
He was an old man. He needed no luxuries.
Now, he stood before the pool balancing pebbles on its surface. This was an old trick he had learned from a friendly witch, back when he was a young wizard.
With pebbles of the place you wish to see, one can balance them on any pool of water and create a portal to it. One can only see through the portal, of course.
But seeing was all Lucius needed.
Since his return to the Peak, he had heard booming, screaming, and dancing—sickening dancing, the snapping of bones—from inside the mountain.
He knew Uzier had made his lair there. He was building his army. And they were getting restless.
And Lucius was going to find out what they were planning.
The pebbles in place, Lucius began to chant. Closing his eyes, he submerged his head in the pool.
When he opened them, he was at the top of a huge cavern. Gazing down, he saw two figures in dim light. Fingering the pebbles on the surface with his fingers, he was able to adjust his vantage point.
Until he was practically right over their heads.
The woman with the leaking wound on her throat and the insane King. His skin was like hers, glowing white and translucent from years in the dark.
He wore a huge, rusty crown, and his eyes bulged as he stared at something behind Lucius.
Lucius turned to find four tombs made of red marble. On their surfaces were intricate mazes with snaking routes.
The ruts of each maze were filled with blood.
Runes, Lucius knew. A dark magic so dangerous few wizards had tried it. And fewer had succeeded.
The spell required a near-deadly amount of blood. Turning back to Uzier and Evine, Lucius noticed fresh gashes, inches long, on each of Uzier’s arms and legs.
His clothing was rolled back, so as not to disturb the wounds.
What a gruesome pair, Lucius thought to himself.
Evine stood on her tiptoes, reaching up to kiss Uzier under his chin.
“My sweet,” he said, and he leaned to kiss her neck, even though it bled. Lucius gagged.
“Are you sure it’s time, my darling?” she cooed. “I worry you are too weak.”
“I am never weak.” The King’s voice was sharp. He gripped her hand so tightly she squealed.
“Of course, my King,” she said quickly.
“Now, give them to me.”
She pulled a velvet satchel from the pocket of her long cloak. He took it from her and emptied it into his open palm.
Four jade-green stones tumbled out. They were large, and they filled his whole hand.
Lucius watched Uzier stare at them—like they were the only things in the world.
The insane King raised them to his eyes and murmured under his breath. Then he nuzzled his cheek against them.
Evine watched him. Her face was vacant—as if she were a doll—as if she were empty.
The King was still whispering to the stones. The tombs with their haunted engravings were still standing on the altar.
Lucius had seen enough. He pulled his face out of the pool.
“For fuck’s sake,” he said. Without wiping the water from his face, he took a long drink from his flask.
He rose to his feet. There would be no time to waste. Uzier’s plan was further along than Lucius thought.
It was time for him to build an army of his own.
