Page 9 of Legacy of the Heirs
She remembered how this scene played out. Elisara would help Caellum up before Kazaar dismissed them for the day. So, instead of watching herself, she turned to watch Kazaar. He stood with the broad stance as before, except his arms were no longer crossed but hung loosely by his sides. She clocked the slight twitch of his fingers and frowned, glancing back over the edge. The tree branch moved so subtly she almost missed it, curving upwards as Caellum reached for Elisara, who pulled him back over the edge. Kazaar’s hand flourished once more before he turned away, and the tree nestled back into the crack of the canyon. Elisara ignored the rest of the vision, staring at the spot where the tree had been.
Before now, she had always thought herself lucky that a tree had been there to save Caellum. But Kazaar had saved him, using his abilities to extend the tree and catch Caellum’s fall.
“You are a flight risk, princess. You have no control, and that will end up killing someone you love,” Kazaar said, tight-lipped. “You and the prince are dismissed.”
Another image flashed through Elisara’s mind of Kazaar standing opposite her in a small room as vines crawled closer beforebursting into flames. She blinked and turned back to him, assessing the sudden softness in his eyes as a young Elisara stormed away. His familiar scent of smoke and embers drifted toward her, yet something was absent from his skin as if a layer of his scent was missing. Kazaar turned suddenly, and she faced her reflection in his dark gaze. Shadows reached out and overtook the white glow in her eyes, engulfing her yet again.
***
“You have completed your training,” Kazaar’s deep voice carried across the Ashun Desert, patrolling the lines of recruits. Elisara raised her hand to peer out across the bright sands, shadowing her face while looking for herself amongst them. When Kazaar patrolled the lines of soldiers, she spotted herself immediately. Young Elisara stood out in her ivory leather corset, a stark contrast to the burnt orange of Keres. The night before this was that of the attack. She had not slept after Kazaar left her cell. When sunlight replaced the moonlight streaming in through the hole in the wall, guards arrived with her uniform. She almost did not recognise it after two years.
Elisara walked down the dune toward herself and the other recruits. Overheated and sleep-deprived, she watched herself sway beneath the sun.
“You return to your homes.” Kazaar glanced at the young princess, who scowled at the hatred she could have sworn was in his eyes. But as Elisara relived the moment from a distance, she questioned whether it was hatred after all. “You return to your realm, qualified to defend it should you ever be called to arms.” Elisara glanced at her feet as she continued down the sand dune, pausing as shadows seeped into her vision. When she looked up, tendrils of darkness snaked across the once bright sands of Ashun Desert and blanketed the ground until not a speck of orange remained. Thememory continued as normal despite the invasion of darkness. She tuned out Kazaar’s last words as Vlad approached with her horse.
He would escort her to the Vala border, where her mother and father waited. Elisara hoped to experience that memory next. She would give anything for another moment with her parents, and to be on the receiving end of her father’s smile.
“Princess, a word?” Kazaar’s voice invaded her again, and Elisara watched as she ignored him and mounted her horse. A hollowness existed in the young girl’s eyes, with dark circles etched below them. Her hands trembled as she picked up the reins and turned to Kazaar, her eyes darkening as she looked him up and down. Elisara felt a twinge of guilt; she could hardly imagine looking at him in such a way now. Her past-self opened her mouth as if to speak, and as Elisara watched the moment again, she noted the hopeful look in Kazaar’s eyes, unlike the resentment she remembered. But the young, wounded version of herself saw only a reminder of the pain she had endured over the past two years. When she looked at him, she saw the man who trusted Izaiah.
The shadows below Kazaar’s feet moved again, reaching for Elisara atop the horse. The sky changed. The sun dwindled until the sky reflected the shadows on the sand. Elisara looked up to avoid reliving her farewell with Kazaar. The stars had always mesmerised her, perhaps because she watched them every evening growing up from the open balcony of her chambers. She looked for the constellation her father often showed her but was drawn to a shooting star, and then another, and another. Stars began to fall like rain then—a shower of light drowning the darkness. She glanced back at herself and Kazaar, overcome by a cooling sensation as flecks of stardust landed on her skin. The shadows moved again and twisted around Kazaar as he reached for Elisara on her horse. Before he could touch her, Elisara turned and rode for Vala.
“Elisara!” Kazaar shouted as the darkness enveloped her again. “Elisara, please.”
Chapter Six
Kazaar
“Elisara, please,” Kazaar pleaded. “Please wake up.”
The late morning sun filtered through the open balcony, and Kazaar refrained from yawning after staying up all night. He hoped Nyzaia would arrive soon with a plan. He squeezed Elisara’s hand, but she remained still and unmoving. He loosened his grip reluctantly and trailed his fingers to her wrist, checking again for a pulse. The steady beat of her heart was the only thing that soothed him, one of the few sounds in his chambers. Nothing had changed about the rooms since he departed for Vala and handed his soul to the queen before him. When Kazaar departed for the air realm to serve the woman who had haunted his mind for years, he knew he would be ruined for another.
He brushed her collarbone with his thumb, where the raised moon scar had appeared after their fallout in King Razik’s office. He did not need to see his reflection to know a matching sun-shaped scar lived on his right collarbone. Different marks had appeared on his skin from the moment he began using his powers—not his Keres-born powers, but the powers from all four realms. He had told no one about his ability to wield all the elements except for Elisara. He glanced briefly at his hands, where a scattering of raised, inked whirls twisted into vines and wrapped around his forearms and biceps. It was a symbol of the abomination he had become, markings which climbed until forming flames that burned across his chest and waves that attempted to calm him, matching those beneath the sails inked into the crook ofhis elbow. Other markings scattered across the once empty spaces of his arm, some of which—until he visited the Unsanctioned Isle with Elisara—he had never seen. Yet the inkings were now a reminder of their experience together, and his desire to crush his lips to hers as he pinned her within his flames, or the gentle way in which he wished to care for her after she was injured. He had immediately recognised the patterns on the throne room floor yet was not sure if he was disappointed or relieved Elisara had not noticed the markings on him were the same. She had never felt drawn to him as he was to her.
Elisara was a perpetual presence in his soul, consoling the darkness inundating his mind—a presence that made itself known the moment emotions consumed her. He recalled when he first felt the piercing of Elisara’s hatred that shot through his chest after her first week of training. He had stood before her with crossed arms, admiring her determination while she wished for his downfall. It pained him to look upon her soot-covered face, where sweat streaked her skin after hours of standing at the edge of the lava rivers within the Abis Forge. He had immediately gone to his father, King Razik, and demanded they reallocate her to Garridon.
“It has already been decided,”he had said before shunning him from his office without a second glance. Kazaar could never understand why an heir of Vala would be forced to train in Keres, yet he knew if he treated her any differently, word would reach his father, and the risk of revisiting his previous way of life was too great. At least as commander, he was shown more respect than he received as a child.
Ignoring Elisara was the only thing that worked. He delegated his second-in-command to oversee most of her training, unable to watch or feel the waves of Elisara’s pain crash over him. He spent many a sleepless night wondering if he had been stronger or more resilient around her, whether Izaiah would have attempted what he did. On some nights, her scream still echoed in his mind as she reached for him, begging for someone to save her.
Sighing, Kazaar watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, the red silk thin against her skin. He clenched his jaw. Elisara’s pain and hatred were not the only emotions he had felt from her. Eventually, they changed: the curiosity that originated on the Isle, the familiar warmth of friendship as he aided her through heartbreak, and the burning desire as he pressed her against the alcove wall. It was then that he had almost broken his vow of never succumbing to the pull he felt toward her. But the second he felt the reciprocated desire, he stopped himself. If Elisara felt even a fraction of what he felt for her, there would be no going back. If he were to have her and then lose her, the darkness he felt within himself would overtake.
Kazaar hung his head as he recalled the events in Razik’s office. He wished for no part of his power to connect to Elisara, whether that was the elements or the unexplainable that squirmed beneath his skin. But with a fearful certainty, he knew something had happened to them. When the raw essence of their power interacted on the Unsanctioned Isle, it was chaotic, as if their abilities fought for control. The second time was different once Kazaar had revealed the truth. It was as though their powers were magnetised, trying to instil order before diving into the unknown.
When light meets dark in the rarest of times. The sudden emergence of the sun and moon scars was no coincidence. It was the symbol of Sonos and Sitara, the God of Dawn, and Goddess of Dusk. He pondered its meaning and questioned how the marks connected the two of them. Somehow, it was symbolic of their connection, like a mirroring of one another: Elisara’s light carved into him while his darkness threatened to consume her. He hoped he was wrong.
He stroked her arm with his free hand and shivered at the cool morning breeze floating through the balcony. Goosebumps rippled along Elisara’s arm, and Kazaar swallowed, reassuring himself that using his power would be fine. Nothing would go wrong. He turned his hand and willed flames to dance across his palm. He blinked and slammed his fist shut. Slowly, he unfurled his fingers.Bright white flames lit up the room, aiding the sunlight trickling in through the windows. Kazaar frowned and leaned closer to inspect the flames, trying to understand if the difference in colour was some trick of the light. Rotating his hand, the flames twisted around him and flickered toward Elisara. He flinched the moment her fingers moved.
“Elisara,” he said hopefully, but she remained still. Opening his hand again, Kazaar summoned the flames, and Elisara’s eyelids fluttered, her fingers curling around his. Still, she did not wake. He let the fire burn. Perhaps this was her power’s influence, her subconscious mind connecting and reaching for Kazaar’s essence, even while asleep. Kazaar angled his head to glance at the sun, gauging how long he had sat with her like this. Last night, he had first instructed the guards to find Nyzaia. Their second instruction was to send a scrawled note to Helena, Vigor, and Talia, urging them to journey to Keres immediately. Vigor was the only physician he trusted to be near Elisara, and that was only because she trusted him. Aside from Nyzaia, Helena, Vigor, and Talia were her only friends, and when Elisara finally awoke, he wanted familiar faces to greet her. Yet something scratched at the back of his mind—a feeling that he was forgetting something. The door behind him slammed open.
“What did you do to her?” a voice demanded. Kazaar closed his eyes.
Vlad. He had forgotten Vlad.
The captain of Elisara’s Queen’s guard rushed into the room, his eyes fixed on his queen. A defensiveness overtook Kazaar, and though it pained him to part from her, he jumped to his feet and blocked Vlad’s path. His pale hair shone beneath the light of the morning sun, and he narrowed his ice-blue eyes.
“Are you seriously keeping me from her?” Vlad hissed. Kazaar stepped forward, towering over him.
“You did not even know where she was. Why should I allow you near her now?” Before Kazaar left the hall with Elisara, Vlad waspreoccupied, busy flirting with a Keresian maid.
