Remnants of Souls

Chapter 5 - The Crack

“William, stop!” Ariana shouted at the same time Mary did as they followed William into his room. They had returned safely to the headquarters, all of them, and once he made sure of that, he headed toward his room with a determined expression on his face, hand squeezing the sword ready to swing it. Ariana glanced at Mary, their eyes meeting for a second. Mary was the first to look away. “You don’t know what will happen if you use that sword! The consequences may be much more severe than you can imagine! Are you prepared to take that risk?”

“I can’t believe I am saying this,” Mary joined, stepping closer to them. “But she is right, William. We can’t rush into this, not after what happened the last time. Give me time to make sure it’s safe.”

“Let me help you with that,” Ariana snarled, glaring at her. That girl couldn’t understand, no matter how much time she spent researching it. None of them could. “It is not safe! We’re talking about opening a door between two worlds that are separated for a reason. It will never be safe!”

“That’s enough.” William cut in. His eyes were dark with anger, but she suspected it wasn’t entirely her fault. He stepped toward Mary, handing her the sword sideways. The girl took it with two hands, holding it as if it might explode in her face. “You have twenty-four hours and then I’m using it.”

Mary pursed her lips, shooting Ariana a displeased look before walking away. Ariana had tried getting on good terms with her since William seemed to trust her and she somehow controlled all the information coming in with her gadgets and computers, but Mary had been wary of her from the start. And after overhearing them once when Ariana told William he should never try to bring Annabel back, she had turned from reserved to icy cold.

“William!” Ariana called after he turned his back on her, moving toward his table that was lying in complete disarray. He turned so quickly that she jumped, surprised by the hostility on his face.

“What, Ariana? What?” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “What do you want? I told you already that I’m going to open the damn rift and I’m going to bring her back! I know the risk and I know there will be consequences. Annabel was innocent, she should have never been a part of this, I should have never involved her in—”

“Guilt? You’re doing all of this because of guilt? Will you ever learn?” Ariana laughed bitterly, shaking her head. Guilt was a useless emotion, and so was love. They would all mean nothing if he saw what was on the other side. She almost wanted to let him go, let him stay there for a while so he could understand why she was doing this.

“I’m not making this mistake twice,” he replied, his expression grim and serious. “I saved you to appease my guilt, I did it because I thought you’re the key to peace with the humans, the key to me being happy. But…”

“…but now you think the key is her?” Ariana raised an eyebrow. She didn’t feel hurt by his words even though she thought she should have—he had loved her, desperately, before she had died. And here he was, pining after another woman, and she felt…nothing.

She had missed a lot, but no matter how much she tried to look in her foggy memory, the William she knew, her William, he was never so sentimental, so fickle, so…purposeless. And she had sacrificed so much for the mere chance to be back with him, to survive just long enough for him to find his way to her.

“Love is a funny thing, indeed.”

“You were dead for seven years,” he said defensively, moving past her and toward the door. “I’m sorry that things are not as they were, but you need to get used to the world you live in now. You don’t have a choice.”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone inside. She stared at the place he was standing moments ago, trying to compose herself. A sharp pain pierced her head.

I told you, the voice in her head chuckled. He is not the man you once knew, the man you loved. He never was. You were just too blind to see it. If you stay with him, he will destroy you like he destroys everything he touches. We’re fated to do more, be more.

Ariana closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath as she tried to overcome the budding headache.

It was true, all of it. She had no place here, no people. She was no one, nothing. This wasn’t the Order she had built, the Order she had given her life for.

Take the dagger and leave. It doesn’t belong to him anyway, the voice insisted. Ariana hesitated before stepping toward the bed and kneeling next to it. She threw the cover aside, pulling a wooden box from underneath and moving her fingers over the surface. She could feel William’s energy all over it, threads woven in threads, protecting it from prying eyes and shifty fingers.

Poor William, his spells still followed the same pattern.

She focused on the tiny lock of the chest, her powers sliding in it as she guided it through the protection he had placed. The padlock fell to the floor, and she removed the lid carefully, making sure there were no more traps. Her eyes fell on the dagger inside, its shiny surface, its ancient hilt engraved with runes long forgotten.

She couldn’t believe he would leave such a powerful weapon so unprotected.

Ariana wrapped her fingers around the hilt, bringing the weapon closer to her eyes.

Beautiful, the voice in her head whispered, and with it, a hint of satisfaction spread through her body. She slid the sheath under her shirt, then pushed the box underneath the bed.

It was time she left. She had stayed already too long, hoping that William would be the man she remembered, a man worthy of leading the Ascendants, a man worthy of ruling over others. But he was not. He was just a hurting fool, searching for love rather than power. And she had a promise to uphold.

Ariana left the room, bumping into somebody in the hallway.

“Ariana,” Camille said with a reserved smile, glancing behind her. “What’s the hurry? Is William inside?”

“No,” Ariana replied after a moment of hesitation, closing the door. “He already left.”

Camille nodded, her infuriating smile still on her lips. Her eyes kept studying Ariana with curiosity as if expecting something from her. For a long moment, none of them spoke, and Ariana was about to leave when Camille’s chilling voice stopped her.

“What were you doing in his room, then?” she asked. “His room is off-limits as per his orders. Or haven’t you heard?”

“I’m aware,” Ariana replied coldly, crossing her arms over her chest to hide the bulge where the dagger was hidden. “But I doubt it applies to cases where he shouts at me and storms out of his own room, leaving me inside. If he was so afraid of me being there, then he should have sent me away instead.”

“I apologize,” Camille said with the same annoying smile, but there was no trace of regret on her face. “I didn’t mean to sound rude. Things are just very tense and trust is scarce at the moment.”

“That, it is.” Ariana nodded. “This Order was built on trust and ideas, created to lead the Ascendants to a better future, a future where they are not persecuted, killed, or forced to live as outlaws. And here we are, sleeping on the hard floor and rationing food while hiding for our lives. Almost a decade and nothing’s changed. It makes you wonder.”

“It makes you wonder what?” Camille tilted her head.

“It makes you wonder if we chose the right tactics in the first place,” Ariana replied. “Or the right leaders.” She smiled, finally returning Camille’s gaze. “But what do I know? I am just a girl who was brought back from the dead and left in the corner like an old, forgotten doll. I hope you have a say in the matter, Camille. I can see you truly want the best for the Ascendants.”

“I do,” Camille replied, her smile finally melting away. “And the best for the Ascendants is William Larson. He will prevail in the end, I have no doubt.”

“I wonder if you would be saying this if you’re not bound to him by blood magic,” Ariana laughed bitterly. “Good luck, Camille. I hope your faith in William doesn’t turn out to be for naught.”

Ariana didn’t wait for her reply, just turned and stormed away. She could feel the eyes of the other woman on her back, but she kept walking until she was out of sight.

There was no going back now. She had only one option left.

***

Mary made her way down the stairs, careful not to drop the sword. She didn’t know what she was more afraid of—damaging the weapon or the damage it would cause to anything it touched. Provided she could even damage the thing—it looked as if it could withstand the end of the world all by itself.

She heard voices behind her and turned to look over her shoulder, hoping it wasn’t Ariana. Just being in the same space as her unnerved Mary, and it wasn’t the fact that she was supposed to be dead. There was something off about her quietness, about those distant, cold eyes.

Death would do that to you, she reminded herself.

She left the stairs and moved through one of the salons they had turned into something of a common area. There were so many people now that it was hard to find any breathing space. She almost felt bad for having her own room, but she needed privacy and quiet to work and what she did was too important for anyone to be allowed near it.

William understood that.

“Oh, look at what we have here!” A voice chirped, and Mary almost dropped the sword as someone stepped in front of her without warning. She gripped the hilt harder, glaring at the two young men. Jordan, who was blocking her path, smirked at her with what she could only label as yet another failed attempt at seducing her. He had been working hard at making conversation and even doing nice things for her, like bringing her clean sheets or getting her a bigger portion for dinner. Yet she couldn’t figure out if he was really into her or had some kind of agenda. When they were alone, he would act one way, and when there were others, like Monroe, who followed him like a shadow, he would act like his usual obnoxious self. “Is it true? This thing can tear worlds apart?”

“It doesn’t tear worlds apart, it creates tears between worlds. It’s quite different,” she explained, trying not to roll her eyes. She hated that she couldn’t hate him like most of the others in the Order did—he really made it easy for them with his behavior. But he had saved her life six months ago at the Campbell estate when the humans had attacked. If it hadn’t been for him coming back for her, they would have killed or captured her. “Would you move? I have things to do.”

“Can I hold it?” he asked, reaching for the sword.

Mary moved back, bringing the sword closer to her and subsequently pointing its tip toward him. He grinned—grinned!—and took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. Monroe next to him lost his smile for a second, looked up to Jordan, then smirked again.

“It’s not a toy and no, you cannot hold it,” she said. “Move aside, or I swear I’ll ask Larson to use the blood bond and order you to clean the toilets.”

Jordan’s smile turned sour, and he just opened his mouth to say something when Claire joined them, eyes narrowed as she looked first at Jordan, then at Mary and the sword.

“What is going on here?” she asked. “Are you causing trouble again, Jordan?”

“No, Commander, sir, I would not dare!” he replied with obvious mockery. Claire rolled her eyes. Ever since she was released from her blood oath, Jordan’s demeanor toward her had turned even more hostile. “Look at you, all serious and responsible. Power suits you well, I see?”

“Just go away, Jordan.” She sighed, glaring at Monroe for good measure. “Come on, Mary.” She stepped toward Jordan, patiently waiting for him to move out of the way and he did, his smirk still on his face but now accompanied by a dangerous flame flickering in his eyes.

Claire moved past them and Mary followed, shooting Jordan one last glance before she made her way out of the hall and to her room.