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It’s cold.
Lumine’s exhaustion makes walking through the snow harder. Her cloak is tucked in, hat pulled down over her ears and she can barely see one foot in front of the other.
The sigil vibrates against the skin of her wrist and she pulls it out. It’s glowing white, twirling in her hand and pointing northward. Lumine blinks through the snow flurries, unable to make anything out except the trees, snow, and endless white.
If this is the first of the four, how arduous is this journey?
“Come on,” Lumine tells herself sternly. “Walk.”
Walk she does, following the sigil’s gentle thrum. The light is fading.
“You dare,” a voice says in her ear.
Lumine pushes out with a rush of pure energy. It lashes against a tree, fading into the howling snowfall. “Who’s there?”
A rush of air passed by, and Lumine ducks as a spear hits the tree to her left. Through the flurries, she can make out the figure of a woman, tall and shadowed. The sigil burns in Lumine’s hand, cold and unforgiving. “Skaði.”
The woman freezes, coalesces into something real. She’s beautiful, Lumine realises; red hair, sharp eyes, shapely figure. She’s underdressed for the cold, and Lumine shivers just looking at her. There’s no denying her power. “You speak my name with such ease?”
“Please,” Lumine says. Her voice sounds weak and thin against the roar of snow. “I have come to ask for your heart.”
Skaði tips her head back and laughs, loud and shrill. “Ask! For a heart.” An abrupt change comes over her then, eyes narrow and dangerous. She’s closer, face inches from Lumine’s and Lumine jerks, back hitting the trunk of a tree. Her sword is in her hand, but there’s a spear, intricate and blood red, blocking her thrust. Skaði’s grip is tight, she’s strong, and Lumine feels some of her courage fail. “I could kill you as easily as you breathe.”
“I know.” Lumine closes her eyes. “I had to try.”
Breath is hot on Lumine’s face. Instead of making her shiver, it seems to soothe. Surprised, she opens her eyes. Skaði stares at her. Up close, Lumine can see the spines of her headdress are icicles, her face reflected back. “Why?”
Giving information is a weakness, the unknown god told her.
Still, Lumine whispers, “she has my brother.”
Time shifts. Lumine tries to move her sword, but cold fingers wrap around her wrist. The spear is gone, disappearing in a wisp of smoke, and Lumine can only stare helplessly at Skaði. “Brother.”
“Yes.” Lumine thinks of Aether; his smile, his laugh, the sharp tilt of his mouth. She misses him, viscerally, and deflates against the tree. “I just want to save him.”
“She will take,” Skaði says, looking furious. “Nothing she gives comes without cost.”
Lumine knows. Aren’t hearts alone a cost?
When she says as much, Skaði laughs. It’s dark, cold, and her eyes are unforgiving. “My family,” she bites out, “was stolen. I took and fought and killed . Now I stalk these woods, exacting revenge, because I can’t get to her .”
“I’m sorry,” Lumine says. She knows it means nothing in the face of time. “I wish—”
“It’s foolish to wish for things to change now,” Skaði says dismissively. “I have to stay whatever you feel.”
Lumine looks into her eyes, sees the sorrow shrouded in anger. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry.”
Silence falls. It feels eerie when the wind stops roaring. The snow still falls, the trees still shift, yet there’s an absence of sound that seems too loud.
“My name,” Skaði says, “is Rosaria.”
“Rosaria,” Lumine repeats.
The ground shudders beneath Lumine’s feet and she stumbles, hand pressed to Skaði’s—Rosaria’s—chest. It’s cold beneath her fingers, and as she pulls her hand back, her fingers close around a cold orb.
“What—”
“My heart,” Rosaria says, taking a step back. “Take it.”
“Rosaria—”
“Foolish,” Rosaria mutters again, and disappears.
Sound rushes back, shaking Lumine to her core. She stares at the orb in her hand, watching it float towards her chest, then presses it against her cloak, slipping it between layers of cloth and deep into her chest. It’s cold, painful, and when she slips a hand beneath her clothes, her chest radiates an icy chill.
Flames lick at her feet.
Lumine refuses to yield. The lava laps at the edges of the path, but she will not be turned away. She’s tired, and her body is singing with pain, but she presses on. Rosaria’s words ring in her head; is her journey ultimately futile? How can she know?
Aether needs her.
The heat is stifling; Lumine’s shed cloak is tucked into her backpack, clothes peeled back as much as she’s able. Her skin prickles, and she knows her feet are going to blister, but she can’t worry about that.
When she reaches the depths of the volcano, lava surging against the edges of the bowl, she keeps as far from the edge as possible. Clenching her hands into fists, she takes a deep breath and yells, “Anka!”
A rush of hot air, the beat of wings, and Lumine’s eyes widen to see a huge flaming phoenix rise from the roiling lava. Its eyes are blue, tail long like a whip. The beak parts, and shrill sound pierces the air, making Lumine wince. The phoenix whirls, talons curling around a jutted piece of rock in the side of the volcano.
Another shrill piercing noise, and a chuckle grates against Lumine’s nerves. “I like your dress.”
Lumine freezes. “What?”
“Your dress,” the phoenix says, peering closer. The beak is pure white, glowing heat, and Lumine wants to shrink back, but she forces herself to still. The touch of it against her clothes sears, a point against her breast, and she whimpers. The phoenix pulls back sharply, almost toppling from the rock. “I apologize! I forget.”
The voice is almost mournful. Lumine isn’t sure what to make of it; “Anka?”
“Anka,” the phoenix says, head tilting. “I think that’s my name right now.”
“Right now,” Lumine says, uncertain. She’s confused, hot, and frustrated. Anger bursts in her chest. “How do you not know who you are? How am I supposed to get your heart if—”
Anka’s wings rustle and she whistles. “My heart?”
Another surge of lava from the depths of the volcano, and it coalesces above the surface, takes shape. It almost looks like a bear from Skaði’s woods, Lumine realises, and stares. “What is that?”
“My heart,” Anka says, and she sounds cheerful? “Did you not want to see it?”
Something in Lumine’s chest breaks. “Anka—”
The phoenix watches her, eyes bright, an intelligence there that Lumine cannot comprehend. “You have come to steal it.”
“No,” Lumine says quickly, terrified. “I want it but I would never just steal it!” She deflates, hands clenched into fists. “She told me you were vicious, monsters, that I would have to kill you.”
A rustle of wings, and Anka is closer still. She brushes the tip of a wing against Lumine’s cheek, wiping away tears Lumine didn’t realise she was crying. “You are afraid.”
“She has my brother,” Lumine says, chest tight. “I just want to save him.”
Anka’s head swings back to the lava bear. Another whistle, a hum, and a wing wraps around Lumine, pressing her close to the phoenix’s breast. “You don’t have to be afraid. I don’t remember my family, but I remember the feeling. It’s warm?”
Lumine stares at the red feathers. They’re soft, rustling in the wind, and she runs her fingers over them. Anka shivers beneath her hands. Perhaps it’s been a while since anyone has touched her. Lumine’s arms wrap around the broad chest as best she’s able, hugging it close. There’s another shudder and a weight presses to Lumine’s head. Anka’s neck twists gently to embrace Lumine in return.
“I’m sorry, Anka,” Lumine whispers.
“Xiangling.” Anka’s voice is quiet. “I think that was my name. It has been so long.”
“Xiangling.” There’s no ground shift, no abrupt orb. Lumine tries not to feel disappointed. “How did you come to be here?”
Xiangling pulls back, head tilted towards the sky. “There is a chili that grows in the volcano. I think—I wanted it? I wanted to taste it. Food,” she whispers. “I wanted to change a food dish of my father’s,” she pauses again, feathers rustling. “I wanted to change to my father’s dish and I fell. I died. I was reborn. I die. I am—“
“I’m sorry I asked,” Lumine says, pressing a hand to Xiangling’s feathered chest. “If it’s painful, I’m sorry.”
Xiangling’s head swings down, her beak hovering in the air next to Lumine’s cheek. It’s not hot enough to burn, but enough to warm her skin. “It is nice to remember.”
When she pulls back, the lava bear is standing on the edge of the path and Lumine startles. It ambles closer and Lumine almost takes a step back. It doesn’t have an expression, not one Lumine can parse, but she feels the want rolling off it as well. It’s lava, it wil l burn . “Do you want a hug too?”
The bear’s head nods.
Lumine closes her eyes, wonders if this is the test. As she holds her arms open, the bear falls forward, and heat blooms in Lumine’s chest. She opens eyes she hadn’t realised she closed, and stares at Xiangling.
“Take my heart,” Xiangling says, voice clear. “I trust you with him.”
Desperately wanting to cry, Lumine lifts a hand, but Xiangling is already taking off into the air. “Thank you."
Thunder cracks overhead.
Lumine stands on the crest of the mountain and breathes deeply. Under other circumstances, the islands might have been beautiful. Purple lights the sky, cascading down over the landmarks, and she presses a hand to her chest, feeling the icy cold beat in time with pure fire under her hands.
“Raiju,” she says, then, louder, “Raiju!”
Another thunder crack. Before her, a wolf bursts through the trees, large and grey. Its fur stands on end, tail tapered into a thick point. It stalks forward, and Lumine brandishes her sword, holding it out in front of her.
“Human,” the wolf growls, tail flicking through the underbrush. Electro energy crackles along behind it, and Lumine tightens the grip on her sword.
“No,” Lumine says with a growl.
Raiju tilts its head, then pushes up on its hindlegs. Lumine’s breath catches in her throat, no sound escaping, as Raiju coalesces into a young boy, younger than Aether. “Raiju is Razor.”
Lumine’s shifts her stance, thinking of Rosaria, of the lies the unknown god told her. “You’re human?”
“Razor not human,” Raiju says. “Razor is Raiju.”
“Okay,” Lumine says, not understanding. “I don’t—”
Razor smiles, all teeth, and his eyes drop to her chest. “You have heart of Skaði.” A pause. “Of Anka.”
Lumine nods. The sword shakes and she forces her hands to still, to hide the terror racing up her spine. “They gave them to me.”
“You earn?”
“I asked.” It’s a simplified version, but Lumine thinks maybe Razor appreciates things being simplified.
There’s an expression on Razor’s face she doesn’t understand. “You have come to take Raiju’s heart.”
“Not take,” Lumine hurriedly says. “I would never take—”
“Not even for brother?” Razor asks, and Lumine freezes. Another smile that’s all teeth. “Razor has friend. Want Lumine to save friend.”
Again. Another trade. If Corisande asks for a task, an arduous journey, Lumine won’t make it in time. Was this the god’s plan all along? Lead Lumine on a pointless journey only to steal Aether’s heart anyway?
Closing her eyes, Lumine lowers her sword.
Does that mean she doesn’t try?
Rosaria, trapped by revenge. Xiangling, trapped by change. Razor—
“What keeps you here?”
Razor frowns. “Here?”
“Razor is Raiju,” Lumine says slowly, gesturing around her. “Why is Raiju here ?”
“Razor lost in woods. Raiju protect, offer eternal life. Razor say yes.” Razor pauses, looks across the sea. “Razor not understand.”
Razor, trapped by innocence.
“Keep your heart,” Lumine says. It means losing Aether, but Lumine can fight. They did not cross countless worlds, over hundreds of years, to be lost here, on this world of elements. “I’ll return the ones I took. I can still,” she swallows, “do you still need me to save your friend?”
There’s a crack of thunder right next to Lumine’s face and she screams, feels electro singe her cloak. Terrified, she whirls, sword back in hand, to see a purple orb hanging in the air next to her head.
“Razor gives willingly,” Razor says. This time his smile is softer, something sad in his eyes. “Take heart, save brother.”
“Razor,” Lumine says, breathless. “You—”
Stepping forward, Razor presses a hand to her chest. “Love for brother shines here. Razor feel. Raiju feel. Razor remembers it.”
The last is almost wistful. “Your friend?”
“Stolen,” Razor says quietly. “Maybe time give back.”
The water laps at her feet.
Her toes sink into sand, and Lumine closes her eyes. She smells the salty brine, feeling the warmth of the sea, and relishes in the rush of wind around her. Her chest feels full, warm, cold, crackling with energy. It’s almost too much to bear and she still needs one more.
“Corisande,” Lumine says.
There’s a melodic song in the air. “I foresaw your coming.”
Lumine blinks, but all she sees is the sea. “Hello?”
“I am here,” the voice says again, and a head appears above the waves. Black hair, iridescent eyes, a passive expression.
“Corisande?”
“To some,” Corisande says. “To others. To you, I am Mona.”
Lumine is exhausted and she just nods. “Mona.”
Something flickers in the water and Mona’s tail flips out of the water, droplets shimmering on the surface as she moves, closer to the shore. “Lumine of Another World. Your brother Aether is trapped by the unknown god,” a sneer twists Mona’s face. “And here you are.”
“You know I need your heart.”
Mona nods, her hair shifting through the water. It’s swirling, a mess not unlike Lumine’s emotions. She just wants this to be over, for Aether to be safe.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Do not be sorry,” Mona says, lifting a hand. A perfect teardrop rests in the air above her. “Be brave.”
Lumine frowns.
Mona’s smile is vicious as she flicks her wrist, the teardrop slamming into Lumine’s chest and she almost faints with the power bursting under her skin. “Your fate is our fate.”
Before Lumine can ask what she means, a bright light bursts behind her eyelids and she stumbles—
—right onto a platform.
The unknown god stares at her with a smile sharp.
Lumine doesn’t know what to say, what to do, but the choice is made for her; the cube trapping Aether dances around her, mocking Lumine with its closeness, but as she reaches for it, the unknown god’s hand clasps together. The pain in Lumine’s chest is immense, and she screams as the hearts are wrenched from her chest, hovering in the air between them.
“Your power is no match for mine now,” the unknown god laughs.
“Perhaps not,” Lumine says, avoiding a chain as it hits the platform beside her. “But I can try.”
For Razor, Rosaria, and Xiangling. For Mona, who knows more than even Lumine.
The unknown god snarls. “You are alone!”
Lumine blocks one of the chains, sliding back on the platform, dangerously close to the edge. She can’t escape the second, and as it cracks down, the platform breaks beneath her feet.
Breath punched from her chest, Lumine falls, voice catching against the wind and swallowing her scream. Abruptly, she’s caught in strong talons, a beat of wings above her head.
“Xiangling!”
A crack, a burst of cold, a flash of rain.
Mona, Rosaria, and Razor are on the platform.
“What,” Lumine starts.
“You dare!” The unknown god snarls angrily. Chains erupt in a flurry, bursting down towards them. Razor leaps, jaws clamping down around three, tail smacking against others, elector energy crackling along the ends, shocking the unknown god. She shrieks. Rosaria’s spear catches in more of the chains and she tugs, bringing the unknown god to the ground. Mona pushes forward a wave that coalesces above them, crashing down. It reacts with the cryo, the electro already rolling over the platform.
“Now, Xiangling,” Rosaria calls.
“Thank you,” Xiangling whispers to Lumine, as the sky bleeds overhead.
Unbearable heat and Lumine tries to stay awake, but she can’t.
Lumine blinks awake on the beach and wants to cry. Aether is lost and she—
“Hey sleepy head,” a voice echoes, and Lumine’s heart clenches painfully when Aether’s head shifts into view. “You getting up sometime soon?”
“Aether,” Lumine whispers. Then, louder, yells, “Aether,” and leaps into his arms. He catches her, mostly instinct, and looks shocked, but Lumine doesn’t care. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Aether whispers.
“What happened?”
“She’s the god of time,” Aether says. “Destroying her did something with time.”
Lumine doesn’t understand, but she remembers Razor’s words, Xiangling’s whispered thanks. “I hope I made a difference.”
The water laps at her feet, almost like a caress. The wind chills her, but it feels comforting. She can smell the crackle of electro in the air, filling her with confidence. The sun beats down on her, warming her skin.
“Actually,” she says, knowing her friends will live on, somewhere, “I know I did.”