Not after I’d had my worthlessness beaten into me at such a young age.
Not since I’d learned to accept that, while my life was filled with unconditional love from my friends, I would always lack those foundational pieces.
I was unlearning those lessons every day, chipping away at the dam they’d built within me. Now, my sister’s words flooded that barrier.
And between us, the dam cracked. “I don’t know much about life purposes or secrets of the world, but I know for a fact that I’m damn lucky to have you as a sister. To have survived what we did as children, the manipulation we clawed our way out of individually, and be able to stand together now? That feels pretty rare to me.”
She smirked. “The name Vincienzo means something pretty good, doesn’t it?”
“Becausewemade it so,” I said. “Not him.”
Our father was not the name Vincienzo. We would carve our own legacy.
I continued, “Maybe you’re right, and I’m your cause. If you need to think so, that’s okay. But I think it’s more likely that a small piece of both of our purposes here is to help the other. To assist in mending the scars he caused.” A shake of my head. “I don’t think that’s either of our full stories, though. I love you, Ria, but neither of us is each other’s entire purpose. You’ve got a shining future ahead of you, title or not.”
I tilted my head, whispering, “And by the way, if you don’t want the title, tell Ophelia. She won’t bat an eye at your reluctance.”
Lyria pursed her lips. “It’s not so bad.” A soft smile curved the corners of her lips, much softer than anything I usually saw from her. It was a bit more peaceful. A bit unburdened. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about.”
“What?” I asked. If it was within my power, I’d help her achieve it. My sister had given so much of herself to the Mystiques, to our father’s grand delusions, she deserved whatever her heart clawed for.
“I want to get our siblings out of his hands.”
I stopped walking. I never claimed to be a good brother, but Spirits, perhaps I was worse than I feared. Because I’d been so focused on repairing this relationship, I hadn’t considered how our father might now be playing his games with those we left behind. The ones I barely had any relationship with because I’d spent as much of my adolescence as possible away from our manor.
When they were born—when my mother had miraculously delivered him three perfect babies after my birth nearly killed her—that had been the last day he’d shown any ounce of care for me. It was the day it officially becamemyfault that I nearlykilled my mother. And because of it, a ruined and jealous part of me silently wrote off my siblings altogether.
As if a fire flared in my gut, my guilt over those actions forged into determination. “We’ll get them out before his claws are in them.”
“If they aren’t already,” Lyria muttered, striding ahead to catch up with the group. Though mystlight wavered in the tunnel, my skin chilled.
“If they are, we’ll help them. If it wasn’t too late for us, it isn’t for them,” I said. “Once this mess is over, we’ll return to Palerman and tell father we think it would be good for them to train in Damenal. That it would reflect well on the family or whatever horse shit will appease his ego. We’ll fight for them, Lyria.”
As no one had fought for us.
“That we will, baby brother.” She looped her arm through mine, and I was grateful I’d let the dam between us crack.
I’d stopped trying to track where Vale was leading us many turns ago, but the babbling of the streams grew louder, Lyria and Mila filling the silence with jokes. But we wound around another turn, and even their voices broke off.
The corridor opened into a chamber larger than the atrium, and we stood on a platform jutting out from the wall with a steep drop off into a river. It rushed endlessly in either direction, twelve feet below us.
Glass windows were cut into the marble walls all the way to high ceilings, exposing swirling tides within. Some moved as quickly as the Solistine River, some trickled like those cutting through the dunes.
And directly across the river from our platform, a thick wall stretched halfway to the ceiling—a dam holding the water at bay.
“The streams,” I said.
“This must be the source,” Vale breathed in awe. “The heart of the magic Soulguider power comes from.”
We peered over the ledge.
“Down there?” Lyria asked skeptically eying the spirit-laced water.
“Not fun enough, Lyr?” Mila quipped.
My sister smirked at her. “Sounds like exactly our kind of fun, actually.”
“Then as always,” Mila said, “let’s find a way.” She raised her brows at Vale. “Can you confirm?”
