Page 43 of Heavenly Bodies

‘I’ve never heard of anyone else with that kind of magick,’ she whispered, as Leo expanded his hands, lazily rippling the lightning through his fingers.

He shrugged. ‘It’s far more draining for me to use than Enzo’s rays. But it’s useful. I can char an enemy to death in minutes.’

Elara gulped, willing her shadows to surface. To her relief, they tumbled out of her—though still not solid as they hadbeen. Even they seemed to shy away from Leo’s lightning, curling around her protectively. He noticed, laughing softly.

‘Yes…you’re going to need those. Otherwise, this is going to sting.’

Hours later, Elara groaned as she ascended the stairs, her muscles protesting after the gruelling training session with Leo. For all his manners and the small kindnesses he had shown her since she’d arrived in Helios, he had certainly kept them far away from the training ground. He’d been unrelenting as she attempted to wield her shadows, but try as she might they wouldn’t take form, instead just evaporating in translucent strands. Leo had commanded her to do a hundred press-ups when she had complained about it and five laps of the training ground when she had tried to rest, or remarked on how hot it was.

Her leg twinged from where the general had shocked her with his lightning, the spot still pulsing. Utterly spent, she half-heartedly thrust her door open. Merissa was sitting on her bed, her eyes alight.

‘Well, don’t you look like you’ve been run through the hay?’

Elara only groaned. ‘Leo is a sadist,’ she muttered.

Merissa laughed. ‘He’s the general of our army for a reason. But don’t worry, your warm bath is already drawn.’

‘Did I ever tell you that I’m in love with you?’ Elara replied and Merissa laughed loudly.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Elara soaked in her bath until her skin was wrinkled as a prune, then she changed into a soft cotton nightgown and padded out on to the balcony. The warm evening air gently dried her damp skin. The stone of the balcony felt warm beneath her toes, and she sighed. She was, begrudgingly, beginning to like the heat. Merissa had left a plate of the lemon pasta they’d made together the day before, and Elara ate as she watched the lightdown.

One saving grace about Helios was that the stars weren’t often visible in the deep scarlet of night. She let a ring of shadow fall from her finger, trying to wrap it around her glass of honeyed peach wine. But when it wouldn’t latch on to it, she exhaled in defeat, and settled back on the low divan. Maybe it was the warmth, or the full stomach, or the endless drills that Leo had put her through, but her eyelids drooped, her body growing heavy.

The sounds around her were drowned out; the faint clang of pots, the distant murmur of voices and the birdsong, all of it faded as she breathed deeper and deeper. She felt forlimbo, the space between worlds, and with a sigh, she anchored her tether, and dreamwalked.

She moved between the colourful dreamclouds, searching until one caught her eye. She’d seen it before, black and pulsing, flames flickering through it. She could hazard a guess as to who it belonged to. Tonight, she drifted closer. And with a deep breath, she plunged into it.

The heat was unbearable. She swore under her breath as she gathered her bearings. She’d dreamwalked through nightmares before, but none like this. The room was made of cold white marble—a marble that struck her as somehow familiar—yet still the flames pressed in. She heard a roar of pain and started to run towards it, the cavernous space seeming to double then triple in size around her. Finally, she saw Enzo kneeling on the floor in the middle of the space, naked from the waist up, hunched over, as light whipped his back, his hands tied behind him. He screamed, begged, deep red blood running in rivulets as the skin ripped open. Flames were beating down upon Elara, sweat coating her body. Above him, Elara could make out a trio of numbers, huge in size, painted in blood, red ribbons marking the bare walls of the dreamscape—3, 3, 3.

‘This is not real,’ she said evenly to herself, inhaling deeply. Streaks of light continued to thrash against Enzo’s torso as his screams tore through the dreamscape.

Her surroundings shimmered and shifted, and suddenly she was in the throne room, and Idris was before her, reclining on his throne.

‘I heard that the Asterian nearly escaped today,’ he drawled, his tone dripping with disinterest.

Enzo—now clothed and standing—tensed in front of his father.

‘You weak, pathetic excuse for a prince,’ Idris snarled, and light gathered between his fingers. Enzo didn’t so much as flinch. ‘You are meant to be watching her. You are meant to be making her into a weapon to defygods.’

‘I’m sorry, Father,’ came the monotonous reply.

‘You will be. You know what comes next. Remove your shirt.’

Fabric was shrugged to the ground as Elara watched in dread.

‘Turn around.’

The prince did, and Elara found herself looking into Enzo’s empty eyes, as light flared behind him.

It whipped over Enzo’s skin, and his jaw clenched. Elara gasped.

The lash of light came again, and Enzo breathed out harshly.

Again and again it came, until finally Enzo cried out, falling to the floor.

‘Enzo!’ she shouted, leaping towards him. He looked up then, with such a haunted, despairing look in his eyes that he was almost unrecognizable.

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