Page 9 of Violet Legacy

Dante nodded, steeling himself for the barrage of emotions that came from brushing up against the seer. “Yes.”

Sypha gently placed their icy hands on him. A kaleidoscope of colors erupted around him, breathtakingly and viciously beautiful. They merged into one a moment before something ripped through his mind in a wave of agony.

Hourslater,andDantecould not escape the taste of death and ash in his mouth. He closed his eyes. And it was as if the connection with Sypha remained. He unclenched his fists as his body slowly stopped shaking.

Dante stared through the glass, the lights glittering as humans and Atlanteans continued their lives, unaware of the emerging threats. He barely understood them. Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed as he focused. Sypha was right; there was no distinct image. It had been an onslaught of emotions. A shadow of a woman who was just out of his reach. But there had been a woman’s voice that had slithered through his mind, a chant he had barely heard. Three words that had been repeated over again, until he didn’t know if it was coming from him or the vision. But in the icy silence, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t want to believe it.

“Protect the heir.”

Chapter 7

PapersandsketcheslitteredRieka’s kitchen floor. It was her life’s work all in one place. She had only left enough space to walk to the small wooden dining table.

“Who were you, Vandana?”

Silence greeted her question. It wasn’t that she was expecting an answer. Not from an inanimate object, anyway. She wasn’t that obsessed.

The yellow candlelight flickered on her kitchen counter; the scent of lemongrass permeated the air. A hastily rendered charcoal image of Vandana taunted her. It was one of the many sketches Rieka had obsessively drawn over the last few weeks. It was always the same. Vandana in her armor, standing over a desolate landscape. Rieka left her eyes blank. She couldn’t quite draw them, not when they were identical to hers.

Rieka ran her hand through her hair. The morning had been long, and she still didn’t know what to make of it. There was a part of her—the small, practical part—continuing to whisper she shouldn’t go to Egypt. It would just lead to more questions and disappointments. But she couldn’t walk away, not yet.

“Play.”

The scratchy sound of the tape started again as the sounds of papers being shuffled echoed in the background. Her heart raced as she longed to be surrounded by the familiar voice. A silent tear streaked her face. In the quiet, she could be honest with herself. She had almost forgotten what her mom sounded like in real life.

“Hello. Today is the twenty-sixth of June, 1999.”

Lilian’s soothing cadence spread warmth through Rieka. Her soft accent was hard to place. It was more European than Atlantean. Rieka had never gotten a straight answer out of her. Her mom had scarcely spoken about her past. She had to have been at least six hundred years old, going by some of her comments, but Lilian never confirmed when and where she’d been born.

The chair was heavy as she dragged it to the table. The rustle of papers tearing punctuated the growing tension. Every word had been etched into her mind. She had listened to the original until the tape and the archaic stereo system had fallen apart. All she had now was a recording of the recording. Rieka touched the pendant as she waited for it to continue. It was the same story Lilian had told her about every night before bed. In her memories, it was full of wonder, but in the recording, there was a tinge of sadness and loneliness to her mom’s words. It sounded like the voice of a survivor.

“A long time ago, in a world covered by snow and ice, the isle of Atlantis thrived.”

A tale as old as time. One that was more myth than grounded in reality but that had never stopped the Atlanteans from worshipping the sacrifice of their last queen with a fanaticism that would impress most human cults. Rieka settled into the chair. She could quote it word for word, but the story never ceased to fascinate her. She really was Lilian’s daughter, obsessed with a past that she could never experience or claim, no matter how vivid her imagination was or how much she wanted it.

“Vandana, daughter of King Atlas, had been gifted with the powers of the gods: a violet flame that could bring both death and rebirth to our lands. In a time where they had promised her greatness.”

Lilian’s version of Atlantean history had been far more nuanced than the hyper-glorified stories Rieka had read or watched growing up. Vandana appeared as a flawed Atlantean, compared to the caricature the Houses spouted. Rieka rested her head against the table, closing her eyes as the words blended into each other and took on a life of their own. It was like watching a movie narrated by her mom.

It was on the day that fire fell from the sky. Black plumes of smoke surrounded the temples as the ground convulsed.

The voices of our people rose above the ancient heavens, carrying across the winds as they cried to the gods for help. Silence greeted them as the destructive ocean continued to rise. The waves crashed against the cliffs, and the stone crumbled under its onslaught as the white sand was washed away to reveal the black rocks.

Atlantis had floated for millennia, anchored to nothing, until that day.

Vandana stood above the cliff face, her violet flame the only barrier against the assault of the waves. Flanked by her personal guards, the immortals had sworn Khatya, a blood oath to protect the royal house and the queen.

The lives of the immortals would be forsaken in a heartbeat to save their queen if she had asked for it. They guarded the queen until it was too late to escape.

Vandana watched the waves engulf the flame, as she remained within the temple. The handful of survivors disappeared over the horizon, as the last of the immortals and her heirs were forced away.

Vandana never faltered. The violet flames continued to rage against the waves, not allowing them to touch the island as the water rescinded.

Not until the last boat had left.

Left alone, Vandana’s scream of agony seared the world, coloring the sky violet.

The fire raged for days as it followed her people as they scattered across the seas. Until one day it vanished. And all that was left was a silence that echoed throughout the world.

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