Chapter 14 - Price of Power

Truth has a way of shattering reality like a stone through glass. As Mother's words faded, I found myself staring at my hands. The same hands that had once wielded power beyond old, now trembling in the moonlight. How strange that flesh could remain so familiar while the soul within felt like a stranger.

The air around the grave pressed against us, thick with the scent of wildflowers and rotting leaves. Above, clouds writhed across the face of the moon like restless spirits, casting us in and out of shadow. Each breath felt like swallowing shards of ice, but I welcomed the pain. It anchored me to this moment, this reality, whatever that meant now.

"Is this why—" My voice cracked. "Is this why I've always felt hollow inside? Like something was missing, but I could never name it?"

Mother's face contorted with a grief so ancient it seemed carved into her features. Her hair caught the moonlight like strands of copper strips.

"The seal was meant to protect, not hollow you out." She reached toward me, then let her hand fall. "But old magic has a way of... compensating. When we lock away part of ourselves, it leaves an echo. A shadow of what's missing."

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp enough to startle a raven from a nearby headstone. "Compensating?" Heat rose in my chest, spreading like wildfire through my veins. "I've spent my entire life feeling like a sword without an edge, a book without words, and you call that 'compensating'?"

"All this time..." The words tasted like ash on my tongue. "I was mocking myself. Watching as I fail, watching as I die with regret, always reaching for that damned sword—" My fingers curled into fists, nails biting deep enough to draw blood.

"Forgive me, I-I should have told you sooner." Mother's voice trembled like a leaf in a storm. She took a step toward me, and moonlight caught the tears on her cheeks. "You deserved to know, but you never showed any signs as you grew. Just dreams, fragments that weren't even whole. I thought the ritual had failed." Her breath hitched. "I-I wanted you to have a peaceful life, Einar. I wanted you to have a life that I never got to live, away from stares that will mock your failures and remain silent on your success. I don’t know when my love for you had become binding that it holds you back."

The name struck me like a physical blow. Einar. Was it even my name, or just another hand-me-down from another’s life? The anger that surged through me felt both foreign and familiar, like wearing another man's clothes that somehow fit perfectly.

"Then why are my memories gone?" The air around us grew heavy, charged like the moment before lightning strikes. "If I were this... warrior, this man who fought for an entire race, why would you take that from me?" Each word carried more heat than the last. "Why hide it?"

Mother flinched as if I'd struck her. For a moment, she looked older than I'd ever seen her, weighted down by secrets older than both our lives. "The seal we placed on you," she began, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "it was only meant to suppress your magic. To keep you safe from yourself, it was a precaution. Your magic may have devoured you, killing you before even getting to see the world." She wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture so human it made my chest ache. "It never touched your memories. Those were sealed by something... older, something far beyond any power we possess."

"What do you mean?" The words cut through the night air like a blade. "Speak plainly, mother. I've had enough of half-truths and riddles."

“There were four carvings on your heart, that were gasping it like threads of blood.”

“Threads?”

“Yes. And in those, one that sticks out more than the others. Inscription on that was different, like a wooden patch on the bucket.”

“What were others like?”

"Other threads..." Her hands moved through the air, tracing patterns I couldn't see but somehow recognized. "There were some carvings in ancient language, carved into your heart through those threads. Valeria..." She hesitated, and that name sent lightning through my veins. "She didn't tell me everything, but she said it was there even before you both met."

Valeria. The name echoed through the hollow spaces in my mind, filling them with fragments of memory: the scent of mountain air, the sound of laughter like silver bells, the warmth of a hand in mine. The woman whose tears fell for me as I died.

"Who was she... to me?" The question burned in my throat like dry poison. I needed to know, needed to understand why her ghost haunted every dream, why her voice called to me from the depths of memory.

Mother's hesitation felt like an eternity compressed into heartbeats. "She was... she is your Karissa." The words fell soft as silk but hit like thunder. "In human terms... ‘beloved one’ or a wife. She is yours, just as you are hers."

The world tilted beneath my feet. Not just memories then, but a life. A love. Something real and tangible and lost. The pain that bloomed in my chest felt like dying all over again.

"W-Where is she?" I could barely force the words past my lips. "Where is... Valeria?"

Mother's eyes dropped to the earth, and my heart plummeted with them. "I don't know," she whispered, grief heavy in every word. She pulled an amulet from beneath her gown, its surface dull in the moonlight. "She gave me this, told me to call her when the time was right, but..." Her fingers tightened around it. "It hasn't responded in years. There were frequent glows sometimes, but no more than just a glow. I fear... she may be lost."

Lost. The word echoed in the hollow space where my memories should have been. My hand shot out, gripping the amulet my mother wore until my knuckles bleached white. The metal felt cold, lifeless against my skin.

"What about the place?" My voice cracked like dry wood. "Awadhar... what happened to it? Where is it?"

"Valeria described it as a sacred isle, far south of the Kaals, where the lush green forests give way to the endless ocean. There, before the sea meets the grasslands, a hidden bridge begins, veiled beneath shimmering waters, yet firm beneath the feet of those who walk it. Mountains rise to guard its threshold, their peaks lost in mists of time, standing as silent sentinels. Beyond lies the island where the gods once lived, a land untouched by mortal decay, where the whispers of eternity still linger."

“Such divine land... why have we never heard of it?”

"Einar..." She shook her head, green eyes dimming. "It’s only a myth. It never existed. Not in any records, not in any books. There are no mentions of the land of dragons, no tales of beings such as Drekon. Demons, yes, but no Drekons."

My legs nearly buckled. The truth I'd suspected, but hearing it spoken aloud... Each word was another nail in a coffin I hadn't known I occupied.

"I've searched everything," she continued, words tumbling out now. "If it truly existed, it's either been an unexplored place in the forbidden lands, or its pages have been burned through the long history of men. Yes, there were dragons and other ancient creatures before the old era, but no one like you... nor like her."

The world tilted beneath my feet. The vast land from my memories has never been explored? Not even one record? Such advancement in the magic of these people must have given birth to the magic that exists in our world. I have seen people riding dragons in battle like some cavalry soldiers from tales. Those memories can’t be a lie. The pain from memories can’t be a lie. But...

"So... what am I?" The question came out broken, fractured like the memories that wouldn't fully form. "Am I even real, or just a vessel for someone else?"

Mother closed the distance between us, her eyes fierce despite their sorrow. "You are Einar of Emberheart, Vratar of Awadhar." Her voice carried the strength of steel beneath the silk. "Born with the ancient lineage of the oldest bloodline of Drekons. They were an ancient race with the same origin as dragons, but much more pure and powerful. You are more than this world understands. More than they could ever know."

I stared down at my hands, which had once commanded royal armies and fought alongside a woman who was now little more than a ghost in my dreams. "But I don't feel like him," I breathed, watching my fingers tremble. "I don't remember what it felt like to be him."

Her hand found my shoulder, warm and steady. "You are still him, my son. Even if you don't remember, it's all still inside you. It always has been."

The pain in my chest threatened to tear me apart. How could I be someone I couldn't remember? How could I find a woman who might not even exist anymore?

"What if I don’t want to be him? Can’t I just be your son? No warrior. No Emberheart. Just Einar. Your Einar." The words fell from my trembling lips like broken glass.

Mother pulled me into her warm embrace. “You will always be my son. My sweet boy.” Her voice broke. “But... there has been a time when your mother was someone else, she loved you the same. There may be people in your homeland who might have been waiting still for the return of their prince. And more than that, there is someone out there who needs you more than me. Someone who has waited for centuries to meet the person she has been living for.” Tears fall from her eyes. “Without her, I wouldn’t have had the chance to give birth to such a brave son like you.”

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“Mother...” I forced the words. “What if I can’t find her?”

Mother's grip tightened on my shoulder. "You will, or... she will." Her voice carried a certainty I wished I could feel. "It's in your nature to love her, and her to love you. And..." She took a deep breath, wiping her tears. "It’s time, Einar. You are ready. I will lift your seal, on your magic."

"Mother, you don’t have to—"

"I do," she cut me off, her voice silk over steel. "I have to, Einar. You are stronger than you know, but this... this was done... to give you time to grow, and now is that time..." Fear crept into her expression, aging her decades in moments. "Old magic is returning, Einar. "

"Old magic?" The words barely left my lips before the world began to spin.

"It's the same magic that your race used. Our family also used it when dragons were around. But... Valeria feared that it would come with darkness, the same darkness that consumed your origin. The same darkness that gives birth to the witch. Many think the darkness vanished. But it will return, and this time, it will consume everything. You have to be ready."

My hands began to shake violently. The sound of war drums filled my ears, no, not drums, my own heartbeat, racing out of control. The memory crashed over me: that obsidian sword slicing through me, the stench of death that clung to both blade and wielder. The faceless helmet that haunted my nightmares, just the amethyst eyes.

The darkness came wrapping around me, not as a gentle dimming but as a tide of pitch-black ink flooding my vision. Those amethyst eyes bored into me from the void, and suddenly I wasn't in the fields anymore, but in a moment, that damned moment of death. I was dying again, feeling that obsidian blade slide between my ribs, tasting iron and regret on my tongue.

My knees struck the ground hard enough to send shock waves through my bones. Each breath came shorter than the last, my lungs refusing to expand properly. The world spun like a child's top, and my fingers clawed desperately at my chest, trying to reach a wound that existed only in memory.

"Einar!" Mother's voice seemed to come from underwater, distorted and distant. Her hands pressed against my back, but the touch felt wrong, everything felt wrong. My skin was too tight, my bones too heavy, my blood too hot in my veins.

The creature from my nightmares materialized in the darkness, that faceless helm, that sword dripping with tainted magic and malice. But now I could smell the stench of decay and corrupted power that had clung to its armor. The memory was so vivid I retched, though nothing came up but bile.

"Focus, my son." Mother's voice cracked with desperation. "You're here, with me. You're safe—"

"Safe?" The word came out as a broken laugh. "I had felt death. Over and over again with his sword—" Another wave of panic crashed over me. "I couldn't fight him. Couldn't save anyone. I will never be strong, will never be able to face him, will never—"

"Einar, breathe." Mother pulled me into her chest like she had when I was small, when nightmares were just nightmares and not memories of the deaths I'd lived. Her heartbeat thundered against my chest, quick but steady. "There is nothing to fear now. There’s no one here."

But the darkness was winning. Those amethyst eyes grew larger, consuming everything until mother's amulet brushed against my skin, and a faint light bloomed in the void.

The monster loomed closer, and doubt crushed me like a physical weight. I wasn't the warrior I'd once been. Wasn't the protector who'd fought for his people. I was just... a vessel. Weak vessel. Broken vessel.

Then came the light, not bright, but persistent, like the first star appearing at dusk. And with it, her voice. Gods, her voice. It cut through the chaos in my mind like a blade through silk, as familiar as my own heartbeat: “Focus on my voice, my love.”

“V-Valeria…”

“Forget about everything else around you... Just reach for my voice in this pitch darkness.”

The darkness trembled like shadows in the face of the torch. The monster faltered. And something inside me... shifted.

My next breath came easier than the next. Her voice wrapped around me like a blanket of starlight, and slowly, so slowly, the world began to right itself.

"Her voice..." The words felt raw in my throat. "I remember how she would sing when nightmares came. When the war got too heavy, when the deaths piled too high..." My fingers found the amulet, clutching it like a lifeline. "She would sing, and somehow... somehow it was enough."

Mother's arms tightened around me. "She knew you better than anyone. Knew your soul." Her voice softened. "Just as I know what you need now."

I pulled back enough to see her face, to see the determination hardening behind her eyes. "Mother?"

"The seal." She touched the spot above my heart, where ancient runes lay dormant beneath my skin, my flesh. "We can’t delay, Einar. You need to have what was rightfully yours." Her fingers trembled slightly, but her gaze remained steady. "Your magic that was sealed by me."

Fear coiled in my gut. Not of the power itself, but of what it might cost. "The last time I had this power..." Visions flashed through my mind: cities burning, dragons falling from the sky with their riders, armies of shadows against black and silver and crimson, and that obsidian blade finding my heart.

"You're not alone this time." Mother's voice carried the weight of iron. "You have me and her, even Alira." She placed both hands on my shoulders. Her right hand moved to my chest, pressing against my thundering heart. "You were born with a drekon's heart... your true heart, and it's time for you to face your destiny."

Terror and longing warred in my chest. "What if it hurts you? What if I can't control it?"

She smiled, though shadows danced in her eyes. "You still worry about me after all this? Don’t worry, dear. I'll be fine." The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her uncertainty. Under her breath, so quiet I almost missed it: "Even I don't know what will happen."

The air grew thick with potential, like the moment before lightning strikes. The power inside me stirred, responding to even the thought of freedom. I knew there was no turning back. If everything was right, then I needed to learn magic, for that I would need magic, to protect my family and to find her.

Slowly, my hands steadying, I nodded. "Do it."

We knelt on the damp land, facing each other. Dead leaves crackled beneath our knees, and the air grew dense with anticipation. Even the wind seemed to still, as if nature itself held its breath. Mother's hands trembled slightly as she raised them to frame my face, her touch cool against my feverish skin.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, her voice carrying echoes of ancient power.

I obeyed, darkness falling like a curtain. Behind my closed lids, memories flickered like dying embers: the weight of armor I'd never worn, the roar of dragons I'd never heard, the warmth of a love I'd never lived. Yet each fragment felt more real than the ground beneath my knees.

Mother began to chant. The words weren't quite a song, weren't quite a prayer, they were older than both, syllables that seemed to resonate with the very roots of magic itself. Each word sent tremors through my body, awakening something that had slumbered far too long.

The rune on her chest ignited, a dark, trident-tip symbol, casting blood-red light through my closed eyelids. Between us, the air twisted and warped, taking shape.

Then came the first touch of power.

It started gently, like sunlight breaking through clouds after a storm. Warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading outward with each word she spoke. For a heartbeat, maybe two, it was beautiful. Perfect. Like finding a piece of myself I had been missing.

But then the power surged.

Fire erupted through my veins, not warm but searing. My back arched involuntarily as magic flooded every nerve, every fiber of my being. Too much. Too fast. Too—

"What the..." I gasped, my eyes flying open. The world had transformed. Everything glowed with an inner light like the essence of the world, only visible to sorcerers with immense power and to those with rare blood of beings like elves. But worse was the feeling building inside me, like a storm trying to escape through my skin.

Lightning, red as blood, crackled beneath my flesh, wild and untamed. It raced through muscle and bone, setting every nerve alight with raw power. My body locked rigid, muscles seizing as the storm built inside me. This power... gods, this power that I have only seen in a dream. It was mine. Had always been mine. The lightning coiled around my heart like a living thing, each pulse sending jolts arcing through my body.

The heart within me roared to life, and with it came a rush of true essence of energy that I have only felt before, saw my sister linger with it. After failing to awaken my magic, I lost hope of ever thinking of using magic, but here it is, though it is not like what I have thought, but it's the same as awakening. This is who I was supposed to be. Who I had always been.

But the power wouldn't stop building.

"Mother!" This time, the call came out as a warning, but too late. The lightning was spreading beyond my control, arcing outward in brilliant crimson bolts that scarred the night sky. They reached toward the top of the old oak, toward the sky, toward the ground, toward—

"MOTHER!" A scream tore from my throat as a massive bolt struck her chest. Her body jerked like a puppet with cut strings, eyes flying wide with shock and pain. The rune on her chest flared brilliant red, then began to fracture like breaking glass.

She didn't scream. Didn't cry out. But I saw the agony etched into every line of her face as my untamed power coursed through her. Her skin blistered where the lightning touched, angry red welts rising in its wake. Blood trickled from her nose, her ears, but still her lips moved, still she spoke those ancient words.

"Stop!" I lunged forward, trying to break the connection, but another surge of power ripped through me. Lightning exploded outward in all directions, scorching the ground black like lightning striking the land. Mother was thrown backwards, her body hitting the ground with a sound that would haunt my nightmares.

Magic thrummed through me, untamed, fully awakened now, but the cost...

"Mother?" My voice cracked like a boy's as I crawled toward her motionless form, trailing sparks and smoke in my wake. "Mother, please..."

Thunder rolled across the sky, answering my anguish with nature's own cruel voice. The air still crackled with residual energy, making my hair stand wild. But all I could focus on was her still form, the faint rise and fall of her chest, the only sign that offered me the smallest mercy.

"N-No," I whispered, gathering her broken body in my arms. "No, please..." Lightning still coursed beneath my skin, but gentler now, as if even the magic recognized the horror of what had been wrought.

But she did not stir. Her breathing grew shallow, each breath a struggle against the darkness creeping in. All I could think about was the terrible cost of this power, written in my mother's blood and branded in her pain.