Chapter 27 The Blade of Regret
The silver blade hissed through the air. Kael’s face was set like stone. He wasn’t a friend anymore; he was a judge. He truly believed that killing this small, golden-haired boy was the only way to save the future.
"Stop!" I screamed.
I didn't have time to stand up. I threw my body across the cold floor, sliding over the black glass shards. I reached out and grabbed the boy, pulling him into my chest just as the broken harpoon came down.
The metal didn't hit the boy. It bit deep into my shoulder.
A sharp, hot pain exploded through my arm. I gasped, clutching the child tighter. Blood, bright red and warm, soaked into my dress.
"Eara, move!" Kael yelled. His voice was cracking, but he didn't pull the weapon back. "You know what happens! You saw the old man on the throne! You saw the dragon! If he lives, the world dies. That is the trade!"
"He’s a child, Kael!" I looked down at the boy in my arms. He was shaking, his tiny hands gripping my sleeves. His eyes were wide with a fear no five-year-old should ever know. "He hasn't done anything! You can't kill someone for a sin they haven't committed yet."
"It’s not a sin, it’s a curse!" Kael stepped forward, his heavy boots clicking on the stone. "As long as the Sun King exists, the Shadow will hunt him. The only way to stop the Shadow is to remove the bait. Move, or I’ll go through you!"
"Then go through me!" I hissed.
I felt the silver star on my chest start to pulse again. It wasn't the dark, hungry power of the Queen. It was something else, something steady and calm. I realized then that the "Shadow" wasn't just a monster. It was a reaction. The more people tried to control the light, the darker the shadow became.
Kael raised the harpoon again. He looked at my bleeding shoulder, and for a second, I saw the guilt in his eyes. He didn't want to be a murderer. He wanted to be a hero.
"I’m sorry, Eara," he whispered.
He lunged. But he didn't aim for the boy. He aimed for the space between us, trying to pry me away.
I didn't let go. I felt a surge of strength. I kicked out, my boot catching Kael in the shin. He stumbled, and I used that second to scramble to my feet, holding the boy against my hip. We ran toward the back of the throne room, past the piles of red ash that used to be Seraphine.
"There's nowhere to go!" Kael shouted, recovering his balance. He was right. The throne room was at the top of a tower, and the only door was blocked by him.
But I saw a thread. Not a physical one, but a shimmer in the air behind the broken throne. It was the hole I had torn when I exploded the Shadow-Eara. It wasn't closed yet.
"Solis, hold on to me," I whispered to the boy.
"Who is Solis?" the boy asked, his voice tiny and trembling.
I paused. My heart felt like it was being squeezed. To him, that name meant nothing. He wasn't the king yet. He was just a boy.
"It doesn't matter," I said. "Just hold on."
I ran toward the shimmer.
"Eara, don't!" Kael’s voice echoed behind me. "That’s the Void! You’ll be unraveled!"
I didn't care. I leaped into the gray light.
The world vanished. For a moment, there was no sound, no pain, and no weight. I felt like I was being pulled through a needle's eye. I squeezed the boy as hard as I could, terrified he would slip away into the nothingness.
Then, we hit the ground.
It wasn't a throne room. It wasn't a field. It was a dusty, narrow street. I smelled stale bread and woodsmoke. I heard the sound of a loom clicking nearby.
I opened my eyes. I was back in the Weaver District. But it was different. There were no flags. There was no royal carriage. The people looked tired and hungry, dressed in rags.
I looked at my shoulder. The wound was gone, but my dress was still stained with blood. I looked at the boy. He was standing next to me, looking at a puddle in the street.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Home," I whispered. But I didn't know if that was true.
I walked toward our old cottage. The door was hanging off its hinges. I stepped inside, expecting to see my mother or the looms. Instead, I saw a man sitting at a table, sharpening a rusted kitchen knife.
He looked up. It was my father. But he looked younger, much younger. He didn't have the scars from the prison. He didn't have the white hair.
"Can I help you?" he asked. His voice was suspicious. He looked at my blood-stained dress, then at the golden-haired boy.
"Father?" I breathed.
He frowned, standing up. He didn't recognize me. "I don't have a daughter. My wife died before she could give me one. Who are you? And why are you carrying a royal child in a place like this?"
I went cold. I hadn't just moved through time. I had moved to a world where I never existed.
"The boy," my father said, pointing the knife at Solis. "He has the Sun mark on his neck. Do you know what they do to Sun-children in this city?"
"What?" I asked, pulling the boy behind me.
"They drown them," my father said.
Suddenly, the front wall of the cottage was smashed inward. A group of men wearing rough leather armor and iron masks stormed in. They weren't Royal Guards. They were commoners, their faces twisted with rage.
"We heard the golden brat was here!" one of them shouted.
They weren't looking for a king to serve. They were looking for a victim to blame for their poverty. They surged forward, their hands reaching for the boy’s throat.
I reached for my silver power, but nothing happened. The star on my chest was dark. In this world, I was just a girl.
"Give him to us!" the leader roared, grabbing my hair and slamming me against the wall.
I watched in horror as my father, the man I had died to save, didn't help me. He just sat back down and went back to sharpening his knife.
"The Sun must set," my father whispered, his eyes completely black.
The leader of the mob raised a heavy iron club over the boy's head.