Page 13 of Legacy of the Heirs
“Please tell me you found something,” Kazaar choked, tossing the mirror onto the bed and reaching again for Elisara’s hand. Nyzaia grasped the collar of his shirt, and he flinched.
“I need to see something to be certain.” Nyzaia pushed his head to the side, and his hair tumbled with it.
“Careful,” Kazaar exclaimed as she yanked at his shirt. He flinched the moment she touched the sun that marked him.Wrong. It felt wrong for anyone but the woman lying before him to touch it. Nyzaia took a sharp breath, circling the bed and kneeling before him. She glanced at Elisara, settling her gaze on the moon-shaped scar on her collarbone.
“On Ithyion—”
“I do not want to hear of a forgotten kingdom, Nyzaia. I want to know how to wake my queen,” he snapped. She narrowed her eyes at him, like she had so many times as bickering children.
“OnIthyion, there is a myth of celestial ties,” she continued. “A book in father’s office explains a link of sorts between two people that marks them.” She looked pointedly at the sun on his chest. “Such markings are a blessing by the gods. It means your destinies are tied to one another.”
Kazaar frowned. “What does a baseless myth have to do with waking up Elisara?”
“I would hardly call it baseless, given you both now carry a shared marking.” Nyzaia tapped her fingers against her knees. “The text explains that once you are tied together by the mergingof your essences, you share not only your powers but also your memories and minds.”
Kazaar recalled all that had happened with his queen: the threads tying them together, the change in his powers, the flashes of altered memories in his mind.Had they been hers?
“So, let’s assume this celestial tie is real. Did it say how to wake her should something like this happen?” It was the only answer Kazaar cared about. Yet when Nyzaia cast her eyes downward, he sighed and scrunched his eyes shut.
“It said the tie could grant you access to one another’s minds,” she whispered while Kazaar tapped his foot, blinking back frustrated tears. “Kazaar, look at me!” He blinked and met Nyzaia’s eyes. “You need to try to reach her.”
He analysed Elisara’s face again, and her eyelids fluttered.
“How?” He rose from the small wooden chair and knelt beside Elisara. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand to stroke her hair, running his fingers through it like silk.
“Have you ever felt any connection to her before?” Nyzaia asked. Kazaar did not answer. If he were to finally speak those words aloud, only Elisara would hear them. “What were you thinking about when I entered earlier? When those strange powers floated around you both?”
He did not recall doing anything out of the ordinary except simply holding her hand and thinking only of her.But then the memory appeared.
“I do not know if I can do this with you in here, Nyzaia,” Kazaar murmured. His fingers paved a trail down Elisara’s face and paused inches from her collarbone.
“What if something goes wrong?”
“You will hear from the other side of the door.” His eyes did not leave Elisara. If he looked up, he would see the conflict whirring in Nyzaia’s gaze. Instead, he waited for her to accept his request and held his breath as she strode to the door. Only when the door clicked shut did he release it all in a shaky, panicked sigh. “Please,Elisara,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers, finding her warming skin a comfort. He traced the raised moon on her collarbone, wishing for something—anything—to happen before grasping her hand once more.
“Please.” At his whimper, the same memory flashed in his mind again.The Unsanctioned Isle.Kazaar focused, searching for something to tether himself to in the memory. Elisara’s face was all he needed—she was all he needed. The familiar draw to Elisara yanked him forward until he tumbled headfirst into her soul.
“KAZAAR!” Elisara screamed. Kazaar watched from the sidelines as Elisara screamed at the past version of himself, hurling the Sword of Sonos in his direction. His past-self reached for it and pierced the blade through the creature’s skull.
He knew what happened next, so instead of watching himself defeat the creature, he turned to Elisara, who used the steel sword as a crutch, hobbling to the other side of the throne room. Shadows forced his eyes to the opposite side of the room, where another Elisara watched. They were both there, watching their past selves interact. Why had this moment prevailed in her mind?
The shadows concealing Elisara pulled further away, revealing her red silk dress that would be forever engrained in his mind. Her eyes flickered from the memory to meet his. One moment, he watched the scene of them, and the next, he glanced back at Elisara, who was no longer there. When Kazaar glanced down again, Elisara watched him; they were both fully immersed in the present while their past selves faded into nothing.
Kazaar pulled Elisara to him and grasped her face.
“You need to wake up,” he said, transfixed on her eyes as the bright blue glow faded to brown, and when Elisara frowned, her eyes changed again, a blazing white. It was as if the shadows threatened to ensnare and punish the man who had caused the invading darkness.
“Get out,” she hissed, shoving him backward.
“Elisara!”
“I don’t want you here!” she spat.
“You know,” he pleaded. “You know I did not intend to hurt you.” He reached for her again. “I have been waiting by your side for every passing second, desperate for you to wake.”
Elisara’s glare faltered at his words. “It is your fault I am here.”
“Which is why I am here now.” He stepped forward again until the pair were toe to toe. “I wanted to tell you. But this”—Kazaar gestured between them— “This is what I feared. You still hated me when I arrived in Vala. If I told you the truth then you would hate me even more.” Kazaar reached for her face, but she slapped his hand away. “I am not going back without you,” he choked. “I cannot go back without you.”
