Kastori Devastations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 2) (10 page)

“I know this seems like a prolonged visit, but we have seen Typhos, and we know what he has said, that he will crush us.”

We.

Celeste. Why she went to the ship. If it were anyone else, they would have been on stage with us.

She firmly placed her hand on Cyrus’ shoulder, causing him to jump. He turned with a frightened look.

“You better tell me right now if you’re—”

“Woah, hold up,” a loud voice came from the crowd, giving Cyrus an excuse to whirl around as a frustrated Crystil removed her hand. Pagus shifted through the crowd, his hands held up to announce a critical retort. Crystil had never wanted to slap the ever-present smirk off his face more than in that moment. “Let me explain something. I knew Typhos as a child. I knew him growing up, and what he became. I know Typhos better than anyone in this place.”

Erda produced a facial reaction that expressed disagreement, but Pagus continued.

“Typhos strings things out. If he says he’s going to attack someone, it’s a mind trick. It’s not an order or a warning. It’s to break you. To break us, people who were broken for so long and are just now coming back together.”

Pagus wore an odd smirk on his face—
it’s like he knows he will win the crowd. His voice is too relaxed to think anything else.

Pagus, you idiot.

“He never gave us a time that he would attack, did he?”

No one responded. Crystil looked at the Orthrans, but neither reacted.

“If he didn’t give a particular time, then we’re fine. We just killed Calypsius. I know Typhos. He’s not coming back yet. He will, but we have time.”

“Yeah!”

“We got peace let’s enjoy it!”

“I’m not fighting!”

Erda had lost the crowd.
Not that she probably ever had it.

“Pagus, you’re making a grave mistake,” Erda said, her voice foreboding and her eyes focused and disturbed. “It’s a mistake that could cost you your life.”

“Honestly, Erda, we could be running around paranoid for the rest of our lives as long as Typhos lives. Maybe he does come tomorrow!”

Or tonight. Or now.

“But until someone can show him definitively coming, Erda, I’m gonna take my downtime, and the rest of the people are going to join me.”

Cries of “yeah!” and “woohoo!” came as Erda slowly shook her head.

“This will not end well!” she shouted, but no one listened. She turned to the Orthrans. Crystil joined the siblings as the four circled up.

“It’s not going to work,” Celeste said. “Erda, can you use your power to influence them?”

Erda sternly shook her head.

“To do so would to be what Typhos is, and I have no intention of going down that road,” she said. “I am going to Mount Ardor. I will not die at the hand of Typhos just because.”

“Your people, Erda,” Crystil said, shocked.

“No, they will be slaughtered,” Erda said, but Crystil knew something else was at play.
She really, really doesn’t want to face Typhos.
“I am going to grow stronger so that when Typhos comes here, we have a fighting chance. You all should join.”

“Erda!” Celeste cried, but Erda left the three of them behind. The two Orthrans exchanged a look once more, and Crystil couldn’t take it anymore.

“You both are Kastori, aren’t you?”

Just admit it. You make it worse by pretending it’s not true.

“What are you talking about?” Cyrus said, but the lies from his tongue were so obvious a child could have seen through it.

“Are you really going to play dumb with me?” Crystil asked.

“Dumb about what?”

“Cyrus,” Celeste said, frustration and tension in her voice palpable. The girl looked ready to explode in anger, a rare sight from Celeste. “Crystil. I’m sorry. Yes, we are Kastori. I didn’t know about it until after the battle with Calypsius, but I had a gut feeling. Surviving the lupi. Being able to tell how people felt on an unusually high level. So I communicated, and people understood. I killed Calypsius with my rifle and absorbed his power. Cyrus has unlocked his skills with training over the last six months. I’m sorry. We didn’t want to tell you because of your history with them. We didn’t—”

“Do you think that just because your mother had Kastori blood that I would suddenly throw out the last six months of time with you guys?” Crystil spat. “Did you think I would want to isolate myself further from the both of you because you were Kastori? I’m standing here, the only human left in this universe, and now the last pure human no matter what happens, and you two are all I have left. And you actually thought I would want to leave you if you’re Kastori after I fought with them.”

She shook her head, crossed her arms, and took a deep breath, beginning to feel more emotional than she wanted.

“I would only leave you if I felt the benefit of living alone, and recording my thoughts, was better than being with you. It’s not. But you lying to me makes me wonder if maybe I should just go. I don’t need to be your commander. Any future battles, I can’t aide you. You would have to follow Erda. I would die the second Typhos shows up.”

“C’mon, Crystil—”

“‘C’mon, Crystil’ is your response, Cyrus?”

The boy went silent.

“Don’t go silent on me. You have a lot of explaining to do if you ever want to see me again.”

16

Typhos paced his room, his body hidden in the void from his guardians as they entered. The four in the temple came to him quickly, and Carticus and Gaius followed about ten minutes later. He would’ve teleported them if not for needing time to build up the necessary emotions he needed.

Hatred. Hatred for Erda, the only Kastori capable of fighting on his level. Hatred for the girl who had read his mind, and only because she had killed Calypsius. Hatred for Anatolus, for reminding him constantly of the terrible betrayal and suffering he had experienced.

Ruthlessness. Ruthlessness for all of the Kastori on Anatolus, whom he would annihilate in cold blood—except for Erda and the girl, whom he intended to torture in cold blood.

And though he would not admit it, he needed to overcome the fear and anxiety he would encounter returning to Anatolus.

Carticus and Gaius hustled in and kneeled in their proper place. Typhos looked at all of them with despicable anger.
I still don’t know who the traitor is. Their minds are all clean. Which means I might have to kill them all so I have the power to go past their blocking spells.

“Someone invaded my mind today,” Typhos said, his fists clenched and his steps deliberate. He could feel the nervousness from his guardians.
Good. Let fear rule them. Let them feel my anger.
“I have tolerated many despicable acts from those on Anatolus. I was content to let Calypsius do my work. And then someone murdered my creation.”

His breathing grew deeper and longer as he deliberately focused on prolonging it.

“For someone to have tried to read my thoughts has broken my patience. I am no longer content to let the traitors and liars on Anatolus die slowly. We must crush them, like an insect underneath our boots. Five of you will come with me.”

Who should stay? Who knows the fields best? Who can best see any attempted coups?

Gaius.

Typhos walked over to his red magic guardian, revealing his physical form, and stood over him silently for many moments, testing him to see how he would react to silence.

“Gaius, stay in the temple. You will have other Kastori to assist you. If any humans come within a hundred feet of this place, annihilate them. To the rest of you.”

He turned back and made himself invisible to the remaining guardians once more.

“Destroy everything you see, with two exceptions. If you see Erda—the Kastori in gold robes—do not kill her. Capture her, bind her, torture her, but do not kill her. I have a score to settle with her. There is also a young girl with immense magic. She is fiercely powerful, and should not be underestimated. Do not kill her. I want her to join us, for a force like that can conquer entire worlds by itself.”

Silence overcame the room, the better for the dramatic effect he wanted to create.

“Everything else, destroy. Devastate. Burn all of their tents. Poison their oceans. Break their mementos. Leave nothing of value to them undamaged.”

He slowly walked out of the shadows. He unsheathed his long sword and took a second to admire it. The weapon’s black power enhanced his magic, and he loved the sound of an enemy dying at his hand. He loved seeing the blood splatter on his robes, reminding him of his success. And there was no better way to produce such an effect than with one of the three legendary swords of the Kastori.

He pointed the sword behind the guardians, and a warp opened, showing a viewpoint of about 100 feet from the outpost. He smiled and tightened his grip on his sword.

“Prepare for the devastation of Anatolus!”

17

Crystil silently watched Cyrus struggle to form a coherent answer.
I liked this guy. And… I still do. But this… this hurts. So bad. I thought we had passed deceiving each other.

“I’m sorry, Crystil,” he said after starting and abandoning his words a few times. “I don’t know what to say. I can explain why Celeste and I decided not to tell you at first, but she already did that, and it won’t assuage you at all. Nor should it.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Crystil said. “I appreciate the apology, but it’s going to be some time before…”

Her voice trailed off when she saw Cyrus look over at Celeste, neither saying a word. But the way they made eye contact…

“You’re doing it again! You’re talking to each other right now, aren’t you?”

Cyrus looked to Crystil, his eyes wide with fear as he pursed his lips. He turned back to Celeste.

“Cyrus, stop the telepathy now, we need to be open with her,” Celeste said.

“No,” Crystil said, a new emotion coming over her that she hadn’t felt in some time—resignation. “Do it. Just do it. You two should communicate as siblings and as Kastori. I should communicate like a human being. I’m not you guys. I am the outsider here, the anomaly on this planet. I’m the one who is just clinging on, trying to survive a new world with the aid of an alien race.”

“Crystil,” Celeste said, her voice pleading and apologetic, but it didn’t do much for Crystil.
This is our reality. Not our turbulent times on the ship, not our bonded time in the immediate aftermath of defeating Calypsius, but this. The two of them are close, and I’m just a bodyguard. I don’t need to talk to them. I just need to protect them as best as I can.

“I was put on this ship by your father to protect you,” Crystil said. “And though I may not have always done that as well as I could have, I still swear by my oath to your father. There was a time where I thought I could go beyond, by not just being a commander, but being a really close friend. I realize now that was just dumb. I’ll be here fulfilling my role as your guardian, but you won’t hear from me otherwise.”

“Crystil!” Cyrus said, despair in his voice. It triggered a strong gut reaction from Crystil, as the emotion behind her name shook her out of her sinking melancholy. He turned to Celeste. “I’m going to talk to her, OK?”

“Hurry, Cyrus. We don’t have much time, if any, before Typhos.”

“I know, but I need to talk alone.”

Celeste bit her lip as she looked at Crystil, who wanted nothing to do with holding anyone up.

“Go to Mount Ardor. I’ll hide,” Crystil said.

“No way, Crystil. Typhos will sense you and kill you. You’re coming with us.”

“When I finish,” Cyrus said.

“Go!”

Cyrus walked with Crystil to her favorite place—the cockpit of
Omega One.
Neither said so much as a mumble under their breath.
Good thing too, or I’d cuss him out.

Why did I ever think this was something? Sure, kid’s charming and funny. But he’s also deceptive and emotional. Dyson never lied to me. Never hid anything from me. Is this what happens now, I drop my standards as the last human in existence?

Though I lied to him. So maybe it doesn’t matter.

One was in war. The other was in peace. Big difference.

… Right?

The two of them climbed over the debris leading up to the destroyed hallway, and Cyrus tried closing the door to the cockpit room. It ground on the metal as it shut about the width of Cyrus’ extended hand, a gesture Crystil appreciated but one that did not curtail her anger. She sat down in the captain’s chair and looked up at the night sky, a reminder of the one period where they had all bonded and became good friends.

A period based on lies. They were Kastori this whole time, even when I thought I loved them. Our trust and friendship didn’t bring us together. Just a common enemy that required us working together. Cyrus and Celeste… nothing more than friendlier, younger versions of Erda and Pagus.

Cyrus sat in his chair to the left and, with heavy grunting and twisting, swiveled it to face her.