Binarius (6 page)

She yelled as loud as she could,
but no one yelled black — Imphius didn’t even blink. He was now
standing on the other side of the banister, leaning into the open
air in front of him as if he were welcoming his fate. Firinne
focused all of her spectralin, trying desperately to create an
upward force that might stop him from falling, or at least,
choking. The events in the past hour must have weakened her, and it
was too late. She instinctually closed her eyes. All that she could
hear were the creaks from the rope being tested by the weight of
Imphius’s body. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing
uncontrollably. His body was dangling only a few feet above her,
back and forth — lifelessly — just out of arms reach.

She didn’t want to believe that he
was dead, so she held her knees close to her face. She wanted to
hide from all of it. She could not bear to stare up at the old man
that she loved so dearly. Firinne grew up without her father. Both
him and her grandparents had died in The Ascension when the people
had tried to overtake The Blacken. Firinne had been very young at
the time. Imphius was the only person in her whole life who had
guided and loved her like she imagined her father would have. He
was more than just Magister Lirveen, he was her family. Now he was
gone.

What Firinne heard next was the
most repulsive sound that she could ever envision hearing after
what had just happened. From above her, she heard a screech of
elation echoing through the morbid air. Slowly, Firinne raised her
head from its dark, maternal sanctuary behind the caps of her
knees.

“
Who’s there?”

Another perverse laugh followed.
“Poor, pitiful Magister Lirveen. Here he is now, just as pathetic
in death as he was in life. What a weak old man!” Triphosa’s voice
reverberated off the walls like the screams of dying
demons.

Firinne lost all restraint. “How is
it possible that I was completely unaware of what a cruel, little
bitch you are? What did you do to him Triphosa?”

“
What did I do to the little man?
Oh, just a bit of this and that…a dash of poison, a pinch of spite.
Don’t worry, he never knew what hit him. Probably best he isn’t
around anymore you know? Too weak for the wrath that is coming.”
There was psychotic pride etched deeply into every angle and
indentation of her face.

Cyneric was now standing next to
her in silence. Firinne could barely stand to look at him. Him —
standing there in full devotion to a cause that was so evil. It
struck her that she could never trust anyone again, not after this;
not really.

“
So what’s your next move then?”
Said Firinne.

Triphosa smirked, almost girlishly.
“We’ve already taken care of that. While you were preoccupied at
the tavern, Desideriums infiltrated your beloved Queendom. Everyone
of any importance is now locked away in the dungeons. So, you now
have two choices, dear friend…lie down your sword and come with us
to the dungeons or I shall have to call upon the Desideriums
to…handle you.”

“
I guess I don’t really have a
choice then. What are you both still standing there for? Let’s get
on with it.” Firinne knew that they had won, but if she was clever,
they would never have the chance to win again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Darkness

The
dungeons were cold. Their silent, stillness was unwelcoming.
Firinne had convinced the two Desiderium guards to put her in the
room that was next to her mother. Citrine’s dungeons were hardly
ever used, but now they were filled with the cooks, guards (hers
had stayed outside while she had entered the castle), maids, and
worse — the children from the academy. As soon as the Desideriums
had gone back upstairs, everyone began stirring. Auralia crept over
to Firinne, and through the iron bars she took Firinne’s hand.
Sadness was overwhelming her face. Her breathing was
short.

“
Did they hurt you Mum? Are you
okay?”

“
I’m fine. I was caught off guard
and knew it wasn’t wise to fight them. Tell me what
happened.”

“
One of the guards told me that
Cyneric was down at the tavern, and had been in a fight. I took two
guards with me. When we got there, Cyneric was in one of the rooms
upstairs…with Triphosa. They’re both devoted to The Blacken, Mum.
They had been planning to overtake us since they came into our
lives!”

“
Oh Firinne…I’m so, so sorry. I
know how much you loved both of them. Triphosa was like a daughter
to me. I can’t believe they did this to you…to us.”

“
No, I’m sorry…I was blind. This
is all my fault! I should have seen the signs…I did see the signs,
at least with Cyneric. I just didn’t…want to believe
it.”

Auralia put her hand gently, under
Firinne’s chin. “There is nothing you could’ve done. They had deep
roots in our home. Don’t blame yourself….It’s already done, Fir.
There’s no sense in dwelling on it.”

Firinne put her head down. She
whispered. “And they killed Imphius…there was nothing I could do…he
was…at the top of the staircase. I tried to call out to him but he
didn’t respond, not even a flinch Mum. It was like…like he was
possessed or something. He jumped off the staircase and hung
himself. Triphosa and Cyneric were right there…just
after…”

“
He would have never done
something like this…Oh, Imphius.”

“
I tried to save him, but my
spectralin was too weak.”

“
Let me see,” Auralia said, and
took Firinne’s hand. She closed her eyes for a moment. “No, it was
not you who failed him. I can feel your strength. The Blacken must
have blocked you.”

“
We have to tell the children.
They’re going to wonder where he is.” Firinne said.

“
I will tell them. First, we need
to sort out the plan.”

“
What plan?”

“
Your escape…you are the only
chance we have of getting word out to the surrounding castles of
what has happened. We need support.”

“
Why me?”

“
Well, aside from you being clever
and strong…It just so happens that you ended up in the room next to
mine. Your room has…secrets.” She smiled.

It was just like her mother to pull
her from the depths of hopelessness. Firinne had a horrible habit
of introverting into herself, allowing herself to get lost in the
chaos of her emotions. It was in this cathartic chaos, that
captivity would occur. She would feel as though the only way to
escape the pain was to peel her skin off — to let the bits of
madness escape. Firinne felt far more than she wanted to. It was
her burden — the burden of feeling.

Auralia took a deep breath. “Long
ago, when Citrine Castle was built, our ancestors created an
underground labyrinth to provide an escape if the castle was ever
seized by enemies. There are several entrances to the tunnels
within the castle, but perhaps the cleverest of all is in the room
you are sitting in. You have a way out of here. You must use it
before the Desideriums come back to check on us.”

“
But if I leave all of you, who
knows what’ll happen. Surely they will blame all of you for my
escape. There will be nothing I can do to protect any of
you.”

“There
is
nothing that you can do to
protect us. Our best chance is for you to find the nearest Kingdom
and persuade them to aid us.”

“
But what if I return and all of
you are dead?”

“
Firinne, if you return and we are
all dead…then you must rebuild. You cannot dwell on things that are
out of your control. You can’t live in the unknown, or you will go
mad. You can do this. I raised you and prepared you for a lot of
things...this is one of them. I have full faith in you. You are
mine, and you are strong. One day, you will realize
that.”

This wasn’t the first time that
Auralia had spoken similar words to her daughter. Since the Mist of
Blacken had come to their world, Firinne had struggled against
constant fear which would often leave her in bed, sick to her
stomach. The fears would begin slow, and progress into irrational
scenarios that Firinne could barely control. Her mother was always
there to pull her back to present. The recent events were, of
course, agitating every irrational fear she had ever conjured up in
her mind because something that she would have thought was so
unlikely to happen, did happen.

“
Now, go over to the farthest
corner from you and clear away the dirt. You should be able to see
a difference of the color in the bricks compared to the ones that
surround them.” Auralia said.

Firinne moved slowly, afraid to
make a sound. She gently wiped away the dirt, and saw that the
bricks were a blend of Quartz and Citrine.

“
The bricks are enchanted. They
will only open to the Luxithanya bloodline. Do you have a pin in
your hair?”

“
Yes, why?” Firinne
asked.

“
Take it out and sharpen it on the
stones. You will need to break through the skin on your finger. The
bricks require your bloodline. When you are done with that, you
will need to draw our insignia on the bricks with your
blood.”

Firinne scraped her hair pin on the
stones, trying to shape it to a sharp enough point on the end. She
tested it with the tip of her finger, digging it deep into the
thick skin. She winced at the pain. A pearl of blood formed at the
tip of her finger and she began to draw.

This magic was ancient to their
world. They had long ago abandoned it in the realization that their
souls were fully capable of altering the elements. In the end, the
magical ceremonies were reflected upon fondly as if it were a time
of children in the midst of self-discovery. In drawing out the
insignia, Firinne realized how amazing it was that this magic which
was conjured centuries ago by her ancestors, still had such immense
power.

The insignia had been completed.
With four crystals rising outward from each other, — giving the
illusion which appeared as though one was peeking over the tops of
crystals which were growing upwards. In addition to that, four
crescent moons guarded the roots of the crystals, giving strength
to the foundation. The crescent moon was powerful, symbolizing
death, darkness, light, and rebirth — cycles of the soul, and
Fia.

“
What do I do now?” Firinne
asked.

“
Every living creature requires
air.”

Firinne lowered herself down to the
floor, and gently blew across the top of the insignia. It happened
slowly, but there began a faint glow which slowly turned into a
bright shimmer of pink, white, and green light. Then the stones on
the floor began dissipating. Once they were gone, there was a hole
in the floor about three feet wide. Firinne glanced back at her
mother with both amazement and sadness.

“
You have to go now. We are
running out of time, I can sense that they will be back any moment.
Once you have passed through the opening, the stones will reappear.
Get to the council at Archen Castle. Go!”

Firinne hesitated for only a moment
to study her mother once more. She was landlocked in the
desperation of her mother’s eyes — a hesitation that felt like
centuries. Forcing herself through the binds of child-like
devotion, she jumped down to the tunnel. Within a moment, the
stones from above had reappeared.

Darkness.

It smelled of wet soil and
minerals. The air was stale and moldy. Everything was silent other
than her short breaths of panic. Firinne brought her fingers to a
point, flicked her wrist, and unveiled a treasure hovering just
above the palm of her hand.

Light.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Life Cycle - Death Cycle

The Sun was
falling slowly to the West. The forest was burning shadows of ashes
across Firinne’s path. The golden hues of light were hallucinogenic
in its partnership with her relentless trudging. It had been four
or five days since she had escaped. She was beginning to feel
disoriented. She thought that she should have arrived at Archen
Castle earlier that day, so she was wondering if she had been
turned in the wrong direction, although she could not recall her
misstep.

All of her food was gone, so she
had been surviving on roots, mushrooms, and the occasional fruit
that she found while walking. The people had long given up eating
Fia’s creatures once they had become aware that by doing so, they
hindered their powers. It wasn’t just that, but they realized also
just how awake the plants and animals really were. They could feel
just as much as humans could. They could think with just as much
complexity.

Nevertheless, if Firinne didn’t
find something to eat soon, she would be forced to hunt and revert
back to older ways. That thought just added to the already
flourishing emotion that she had locked tightly behind her eyes.
Her hand had been gripped tightly on the hilt of the sword she had
found among the provisions left in the labyrinth, and there were
now ornate indentations in her hand. She could feel the tension
pulling at her spine.