Aldrin's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

Aldrin climbed the last stair with the gem lit in his fist. The room opened wide. Chains hung from the ceiling and ran down the walls. In their center, held off the floor, was Selara. Iron loops wrapped her wrists and ankles. Her cat ears lay flat. One gold eye and one blue eye found him. She had left home years ago to search for him, and he had not known until now. "Aldrin," she said. "Don't. He wants you to touch the chains." Warwick stood behind her. His black robes swam with red light. His eyes glowed white from too much dark magic. "The gem breaks my tower," he said. "So use it. But channel fire wrong through that stone and it shatters. When it shatters, the chains close for good. She dies inside them." Aldrin's hand went cold. He knew fire magic only from books. His own power was blue and quiet, not flame. He held the gem near the nearest chain. The colors flared, then guttered. Too little heat. The stone stayed dark and hard. He tried again and felt it strain, close to cracking. Selara flinched as the loops tightened on her wrists. "You see?" Warwick said. "You are not a fire mage. You are a boy with a dead man's trinket." Aldrin stopped forcing it. He remembered the phoenix at the door, how its fire had not pushed the gem but simply touched it. The gem answered fire. It did not need his flame. It needed a spark to wake, then his will to steer. "Selara," he said. "Do you remember the night I stayed up with you? You were sick. I made you laugh." Her eyes filled. "I remember the sound." "Hold onto it," he said. He struck his blue magic against the black stone, not as force but as a single spark. The gem drank it. Color burst inside, red and green and gold, steady this time. He fed it slow, the way you feed a small fire. The light poured out and ran along the nearest chain. Warwick's hand shot up. "No." The chain glowed, then split. The loops on Selara's wrist sprang open. Aldrin swept the light across the others. Chain after chain broke. Selara dropped to the floor and caught herself on her hands. Warwick's white eyes went wide. His tower was breaking around him. Stones cracked. Runes died. He backed toward the far wall, and the failing chains coiled at his own feet. Aldrin pulled Selara up. She was thin and shaking, but she stood. "You came," she said. "I said I would." The gem's light had freed her. But it had spent itself. In his palm the stone had gone gray, cracked through the middle, dark forever. And above them, loose from its chains at last, Warwick raised both hands and began a spell with nothing left to hold him back.