Page 114 of Legacy of the Heirs
Chapter Sixty-Five
Elisara
It was not her reflection that stared back at Elisara in the mirror. She would never be herself again. Lowering the temperature in the tent was a reassurance her power had returned, but Elisara’s radiant blue eyes were a reminder that it was gone. Her tie to him. Kazaar was gone. The return of her power brought back her focus. And all she focused on was revenge.
Breaking down before Caellum had been easy and truthful, yet she only let down those walls to present herself as grief-stricken and weak. Elisara was not weak. Kazaar Elharar had not been tied to someone weak. Her love for him was notweak.
Shifting her hands to reach for her leathers, the blood on them crumbled as the final pieces of him disintegrated. She swallowed and pushed through the memory, withdrawing the leathers on top. Her eyes moved to their wooden chest. The ground was solid as she walked to it, her vision no longer blurring as it had on the battlefield. She instantly found what she wanted: a black shirt—his shirt. Tossing it on the vanity, she reached for the water and cloth.
As Elisara sat topless to wash the dirt and blood from her body, she imagined it was him instead, his touch gentle while watching her in the mirror, lavishing in the contentment. “Eyes on me,” he would say, and she would smile at his reflection. She recalled his final words.Eyes on me, angel.Elisara scrubbed harder, refusing to cry again.
Carelessly, she dropped the cloth and reached for the brush instead, tugging hard at the knots in her hair. Her fingers were methodical as she braided it, pulling as tight as possible, desperateto feel something. Kazaar’s leather bands stared at her from the jar beside her ribbons. Unlike the blue ribbons, a black band felt right, so she tied the band around the end of her braid and flipped it over her shoulder.
She breathed in the memories etched into the fabric of his shirt. It was far too big for her, but she wore it anyway, crossing the two sides over her front and tying it in a knot at the back instead of using the buttons. She wanted to smell him as she sought her revenge or died trying.
Elisara propped her forearms on the table and hunched, passing the onyx talisman back and forth between her hands. She closed her eyes, the only thing left of him. Breathing in and out, she pictured the nothingness within her, like he had taught. It was not difficult anymore to find the flicker of flame, the flame she prayed remained within her.
They had not always had the silver tinge to their marks nor held the power in their blood. But their essences had merged long before that when he had wielded all four elements. A small part of her hoped—prayed—the ability to control all four sat within her or within the talisman he had been found with.
Elisara realised it was a long shot. She dragged her sword from where it leaned next to the Sword of Sonos and rested it on her lap. Her hands were precise as she sharpened the blade, which vibrated in her lap. A single tear fell from Elisara. She rested her head in her hands.
Kazaar lying there, dying, flashed again, and she tightened her eyes, begging for the image to disappear, but it did not until Caligh’s face replaced it. She envisioned his sneer and ancient laugh, the confidence dripping from his movement.Caligh Servusian.She wished she knew what knowing his name could do for her. She did not care if she risked using it. Fury bubbled within her again. Her neck was stiff as she twisted it. Elisara’s reflection flickered as darkness seeped into the corners of her vision. Her head pounded. She wanted it to be over. Reaching into the drawer of thevanity, she took Caligh’s letter and re-read his words for anything hidden, which might confirm her suspicions of why he wanted her.
“I do not ask for much in return for our vacancy from your waters and lands. There is no reason for a war amongst us or for innocent lives to be lost. I want one thing and one thing alone: the Descendent of Chaos and essence of Sitara.
The talisman in her hand felt warm from countless turning.How does he even know Sitara has a descendant and added her essence to another?Elisara cracked her neck again, the pain of the day creeping down her spine and working its way across her limbs. She wavered, black spots returning in her vision as she dropped the talisman on the sword, resounding through the tent. She read the second part of the letter.
Bring me Kazaar Elharar by sunrise in three days, and the loyal servants shall spill no blood.
Loyal servants, Elisara pondered.Servants. Choiceless. She wondered what they owed him. Perhaps they were mercenaries.They had killed enough of the creatures not to worry about them, nor did she fear the copper-clad servants; the rulers’ powers worked, provided they had access.
Caligh’s power was the only problem. She needed a way to affect him.
Elisara folded the letter and reached instead for the stacks of papers on the desk, scrawled in Kazaar’s handwriting: the prophecy, pages from myths and lies, the words the gods had spoken.At least the swords had worked.Elisara wondered what was different between the weapons they created and the Sword of Sonos. Something had to have gone wrong with Sadira’s incantation. It worked to kill the creatures in Garridon, and when it killed foot soldiers, they disintegrated. Something about the sword was more final than their own weapons.
Murmuring sounded on the other side of her tent, and Elisara sighed, wondering who would interrupt her this time. Tuckingthe talisman in her pocket, she stuck her head out of the tent, and despite her grief, her curiosity was piqued when she found Larelle bending over the bodies of four creatures. One had ragged wings and a deformed body, yet the next was sleek and more human-like. Beside it was one mid-transformation with wings still on its back.
Larelle crouched to examine each, always ending her inspection by checking their eyes. Larelle stood silent for some time, her hand on her mouth.
“What are you thinking?” Elisara finally asked, and Larelle jumped.
“Their eyes,” she said. “All of their eyes differ. Elisara stepped from the tent, flinching at the pain in her body. She clutched the talisman in her pocket for comfort.
“What about them?” she asked, and Larelle pointed to each in turn.
“This one has no eyes. Those are black.” She gestured to the final one. “And while this one with dark eyes, there are amber rings around the iris.”
Elisara frowned, trying to determine a reason.
“The rings mean something,” Elisara concluded, and Larelle nodded.
“Osiris said they owed a debt, and Arik, the younger one, almost slipped up and said he did not want to end uptrapped.” Elisara winced at the black and white dots in her vision. “What if Caligh freed them from somewhere? And in return, they owe him their life.”
“That does not explain the difference between each,” Elisara said, confused.
“The eyeless are failed first attempts; the dark eyes are fully transformed and are the same as the human here with dark eyes.” Larelle pointed at the last in the row, a young man with blood-stained hair in dark grey leathers. “Look at the golden ring around his irises; he is the one I think was freed in some way.”
Elisara thought Larelle was pulling at threads.
