Failed Future (Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles, #3)

by Elise Kova

for every dream that failed to make room for the one that came true

Breathing. Just… breathing. Air sputtering between gasping lips. Heaving as her body expelled the water to make room for every life-giving breath it fought for.

“I’m fine.” It was a lie. A lie to save her from having to fight her way out of the deep hole the truth put her into. Vi was many things… but after fleeing her home, abandoning her Empire, fighting for her life, facing off against a pirate queen, and putting a traitor to death… “fine” was none of them.

Vi placed the cup off to the side, shifting her hands so they covered his. One on her face, one in her lap. “I don’t need magic to see you now. Your presence isn’t governed by glyphs. Now you can be by my side whenever I need—every moment of the day.” “Only if you permit it.” “I’d permit nothing less.”

Glyphs surrounded Taavin, condensing onto his left wrist like bracelets. She knew what he was doing, and yet… Vi was struck with awe. He commanded the magic with a deftness she’d never seen before—not from any sorcerer from any discipline. It put even the poetic nature by which her parents could command the elements to shame. It was more than sorcery, it was art—as breathtaking as a virtuoso musician or master dancer. The magic wasn’t just an extension of Taavin.

She was slowly piecing together the parts of Taavin’s life from bits of information he’d dropped like breadcrumbs in a vast forest. A man who was the head of a holy order—who’d ordained the Queen of Meru by his hand. But a puppet for others, a captive to keep under control so that Ulvarth could have power over arguably the strongest organization on Meru.

“Raspian is getting stronger…” Taavin mumbled, his eyes finally closing for slumber. “The end of the world is drawing near.”

He truly was different from her. She’d always known it. Yet when she had summoned him with narro hath, he’d existed in the framework of her world. Now, she was an occupant of his, and even the princess who belonged nowhere had never felt so out of place.

She’d finally made it to him. Somehow, he felt farther away than ever. They were from different worlds, pulled together by fate. Two people who should have never met and seemed destined for nothing more than heartache.

Vi closed her eyes, ignoring the dull ache the words inspired. The halfway status of their relationship, the questions, the time spent wondering what they were… He’d never give them anything more than he already had, she realized. She heard it clearly between his words: I can’t let myself love you. Despite all she’d been though, that realization may have hurt the most.

But Vi was still very much grounded in the world. It was a world of men who cut down women to take their children. A world of red lightning. A world where she had somehow allowed someone into her heart who may not want to be there.

With one shaky footstep after the next, Vi descended into the Twilight Kingdom.

People I love… Love… She loved him. Her heart felt like it had just shattered into a thousand pieces only to have them all start beating in unison—a chorus that sang for Taavin alone.

Near. Far. Near. Far. Back and forth they swung, a pendulum that never lost its momentum. The closer she got to him one moment, the further he felt the next.

Vi side-stepped through the craggy opening, reminding herself of the one thing Taavin had made clear: terrible things happened to the people he loved. Thus, he didn’t want to love anyone, or have anyone love him. Under no circumstances could she let him know he’d well and truly stolen her heart.

King Noct and Arwin were a half-step farther away than she remembered them being. They both stared at her with wary, awe-filled eyes. Vi took a slow breath, not daring to ask what they’d seen when her senses were overtaken by a time long past. She didn’t want to know. With one touch to the crystal weapon, something within her had changed, and she wanted no additional proof of the fact.

“I want you to do what you were chosen to do—use it to save our world.”

“Like I said, their actions supposedly come from the goddess herself. Though I have my suspicions…” “You don’t think they’re acting on Yargen’s orders?” “I can’t imagine the goddess being quiet for hundreds of years and then suddenly demanding blood. Can you?” Vi shook her head and Arwin continued. “No, it’s all the depravity of two power-hungry men.” “Who?” Vi whispered. She didn’t want to hear the answer, because she already knew it. “Who else? Lord Ulvarth wields the sword, but the one who gives him the orders and the power—the real evil—is the Voice of the Faithful.”

The darkness threatened to consume her whole. One more betrayal was all it would take, and she may never trust again.

“Maybe we’re meant to hurt and be hurt. Maybe we’re just meant to burn.” Vi took a small step away from him. Taavin caught her wrist. Sparks crackled, bright yellow, tangled with a hazy blue glow that Vi knew as the hallmark of his magic—of Yargen’s power. “Fine,” he breathed. “If we’re meant to burn, then we burn together.”

Sunlight… Even in the darkness, he smelled of sunlight. He smelled of fields warmed in the afternoon, of the heat on fresh laundry pulled inside on a hot day, of joy and laughter over a cool drink in the balmy hours after dusk.

“Perhaps you’re right about us burning together, because only you can set me on fire.”

“Vi.” Her name was husky on his swollen lips. “I’ve never had much… but this is all I have now. This whole world may need you and not know it, but no one needs you more than I do, I promise you that. I will make mistakes. But I need you to believe in me, trust me.”

“I need you to accept that this, however perfect it can feel, isn’t. I want you to stay with me despite that fact. Stay with me because it is messy, and raw, and something we need but may also be terrified to want.”

“Taavin,” her voice was raspy and thin, barely forced through a thick throat. “What if I can’t?” “Good sense would have me give up on you… But when it comes to you, Vi, I seem to be lacking in good sense.” Vi tightened her arms around his neck and shoulders. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “As am I,” he murmured.

“Sarphos will be back soon and I have so much to tell you. So much we should discuss… but all I want to do is hold you.” Vi let out a small, bitter laugh. There was so much to say. She had yet to tell him of the scythe, of Jayme, of Adela. There would never be enough time for all the words unspoken between them. “Then hold me, and let the world wait.”

“You really have a thing for maps, huh?” Arwin’s voice startled her. Vi had filled five pages in the journal and half the inkwell was gone, so she must’ve been working for at least two hours. “You burned the midnight oil here last night, and were back at it before breakfast.” “I do love maps.”

“What?” Arwin caught her staring. “This?” She motioned to a fairly large, crescent-shaped birthmark underneath her collar bone. “No, not that. Why do you bind your chest like that?” Vi blurted. “Keeps them out of my way. They’d be way too painful to deal with if they were bouncing about during combat or practice.” Arwin paused, mid-loosening of the ties. Her eyes caught Vi’s. “What do you do?” she asked cautiously. Mutual fascination filled the air to the point that Vi felt dizzy with it and couldn’t help laughing.

Vi took a deep breath. She just had to find strength enough to be vulnerable… How was it, out of everything she’d done, that was starting to terrify her the most?

“I must save my father.” “You must save this world.” “I know that,” Vi nearly snapped back at him. The only thing keeping her voice level was her years of royal training. She had no idea how she was going to save the world—she was still just trying to save the ones she loved.

King Noct looked only at his daughter, slowly lifting his hand. He cupped her cheek thoughtfully, lovingly. Vi’s chest ached, thinking back to the few times she’d been with her own father and he’d looked at her with his heart in his eyes.

“Then, my royal guard…” King Noct’s whispering voice quivered slightly. “I command you to leave the protection of the Twilight Kingdom to atone for your past transgressions. I command you to venture beyond the embrace of the Twilight Forest. You are to go, and on your way, you will teach the Champion so that she may save our world. You are to destroy the shift which should’ve never been—and you are to ensure it shall never be formed again by killing the one who created it. Otherwise, you will not be welcomed back into this court.”

“Everything.” There was no hesitation. No holding back. “She is everything.”

She loved him. And he loved her… despite both of them knowing better. Despite neither being brave enough to say it in such plain terms. Those facts made no difference in the end. They had fallen in love despite themselves. They just had yet to be brave enough to say it aloud.

“You have a deal,” Vi interrupted before Taavin could say something well-intended but foolish. “Help me get my father. Taavin will give you Ulvarth. And if at any point, you think we mean to harm you or the morphi, or that we will go back on our words… You have my life.”

She’d always been told that people in the Solaris Empire feared sorcerers for their magic because it was rare, strange, and dangerous. Perhaps the real reason they hated sorcerers so fiercely extended back past anyone’s memory. Extended toward the first peoples of the early kingdoms. People who held a deep resentment for magic—any magic—because it forced them from their homelands.

Everything made sense. Such loathsome, horrible, wretched sense. The fear of magic ingrained in people from the start, bolstered by the Champion’s warnings, and cemented by time. Conventional wisdom maintained that the crystals in the Caverns tainted people, perhaps as a result of a power mortal hands weren’t intended to hold. Or perhaps Raspian’s power was slowly escaping through them, and that was the source of the deadly crystal taint.

They were from two different worlds. When it all was over—assuming the world didn’t end—she would still be the crown princess. He was still the Voice. They couldn’t be anything else to one another.

The scythe was forgotten, sliding off her knees as Vi shifted her weight forward. He leaned back and she followed him. She couldn’t breathe if she didn’t know her lungs were in time with his. She couldn’t move if his hands weren’t on her. Taavin laid back on the leafy ground, Vi atop him. He was light and life and everything she’d ever wanted without knowing it.

If they were destined for heartbreak, she would steal as many nights as she could along the way.

“Are you all right though?” Taavin held her fast as Vi tried to pull away. “Jayme was—” “Jayme was no one. She was a traitor. She betrayed my family. It’s because of her Adela has my father. It’s because of her Adela had me. I gave her a traitor’s death and I don’t want to speak about her ever again.”

“Remember, I’m your prisoner. Push on my back a little, make it a good show.” Taavin did, but the shove was so weak Vi had to intentionally put a stumble into her step. She fought the smallest of smiles. Even acting, he didn’t want to harm or demean her.

With that, Taavin’s magic was broken, and the woman fell limply to the deck. Arwin stood at the railing, looking down at them, regarding them both warily. Vi locked eyes with her, as if in warning. As if to say, Yes, beyond the Twilight Forest we are as deadly as you feared.

“Some emotions are as sharp as knives that don’t dull or rust with time.”

There was the same empty feeling she’d known all too well lingering between the spaces of Arwin’s words—the feeling of not belonging. She hadn’t belonged anywhere in her Empire, now she didn’t belong with those of Meru. Arwin was right: she didn’t understand because she wasn’t a part of this world. But would she ever have the chance to be a part of anywhere?

Vi closed her eyes, shutting out the world. “What if it’s all my fault? What if they suffered because they had to be the parents of the Champion?”

“Should you want it… allow my arms to be your home. Here is home. Because, as I told you once, here is where you are safe.”

This was not the man she’d kissed in Solaris. She was not the woman who had seized a moment in a tent for fleeting joy. She saw him for who he was—tortured and hopeful. A man who had done wretched and wonderful things alike. And she was no different.

Imperfection fit them both well. Maybe life had carved enough parts out of each of them that they needed each other to feel whole.

Something worth holding onto as long as time allowed.