Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) (5 page)

We have information. If we can’t stop Typhos from collecting power, we can learn how to fight it better.

Celeste grabbed her brother’s arm and hugged him tight. She concentrated on teleporting them back to Monda and did so just as a crack began to split them apart.

She came to just outside the temple, but she kept her telepathic gaze on Nubia with her powers. She saw the planet crumbling on itself, turning into molten rock. Then, without warning, it exploded, pieces of it scattering into outer space.

“No!”

But she knew she could do nothing. Typhos now had the greatest black magic in the universe. The only benefit they would have was that an absorption of such power would force him into recovery. But he would do so on Anatolus, she knew, and he could not be attacked as long as he resided at the peak.

Then, as if to prove a point, she sensed a lightning spell on Anatolus so powerful, it destroyed several acres of the forest on the ground with one strike. It was a blow that made the fires of Calypsius seem like a harmless ember.

“We need to gather everyone,” Celeste said, gasping. “Now. We need to prepare this planet with the information we have. We stand no shot if we don’t all coordinate.”

7

Teleported to the steps leading up to the peak of Mount Ardor, Typhos quickly darted to the peak, hurrying before Nubia exploded. He could see in his vision the planet crumbling, vast swaths of sand just folding into the core that he had destroyed.

Then, in a flash, the planet exploded, sending its pieces scattered across space. Typhos braced himself as he dropped to one knee for the onslaught of energy heading his way.

But he could not have predicted the intensity with which an entire planet’s power hit him. The swarming energy through his body felt like an acute poison that clawed at him from the inside. He dropped to his stomach and back, writhing and rolling around in pain as he screamed for the energy to stop. He became so consumed by the power inside him that he lost control of his magic, unintentionally casting several spells across the planet.

The pain and torture had become too powerful for Typhos to fully understand what he was doing. But in brief moments, when the pain had subsided from unbearable to painful but tolerable, he saw what he could now do. A lightning bolt destroyed a vast swath of the forest down below, reducing a significant area to nothing but ash. To the south of the continent, a massive hurricane formed, whipping up winds strong enough to create tidal waves rising hundreds of feet that crashed into the continent, destroying all wildlife within a couple of miles of the coast. Lightning danced across the sky, and fires broke out in the fields.

“Stop!” Typhos screamed, sure he would die.

I pushed it too far. In my quest to kill those I hated, I ended up killing myself with greed being the suicidal weapon. I didn’t need it. I could’ve killed Celeste!

Celeste! Cyrus!

And Erda… I didn’t need this magic.

The pain made it impossible for Typhos to breathe, and he began to feel lightheaded as he lost his senses. Gasping, he grabbed his mask and hurled it to the side, making it easier to breathe but disorienting him even further. The sky was just a sea of blackness with bright, unrefined splotches. He cursed Nubia for bringing him this much pain and began to lose consciousness.

Was it… worth it? Adanus. Aida. Pagus. Everyone…

His vision dimmed.

But then, almost as if it had never happened, the pain stopped.

Slowly, very slowly, Typhos’ vision returned. The storm above him raged no longer, and the hurricane to the south dissipated. The fires still burned, and the forest remained destroyed, but no further damage was delivered. Typhos had acquired control of his magic back, and he breathed slowly on the ground for several seconds to ensure a surprise second onslaught of magical energy would not come.

He deliberately counted to sixty seconds before he even attempted to rise. Lying on his back, he rolled on his stomach, brought his knees forward, and stood.

His legs felt wobbly, and he was sick. Seconds later, he vomited and came back down to his knees. He gagged and gasped for air.
Is it… is the pain over?

The acute torture had ended. Even after he vomited, it did not return, nor did it come during the expulsion. But the massive energy had taken its toll, and Typhos would need time to recover.

But as he laid back down on the ground, he smiled with nefarious intent. He had survived the absorption of an entire planet’s power, and in doing so ensured that when he got Tapuya and Vostoka, he would be able to handle it better. Even in his weakened physical state, he still had immense powers. He concentrated and, with the planet aiding him, brought up to him two ursus. He killed them instantly and cooked them, supplying him all of the food he would need for the next several days.

My power… it is no longer as dependent on my physical state as it was before. Or, if it is, it has become so great that when I am healthy, I can destroy anything.

Anything at all…

He searched inside himself. He recalled the power he had read about in Fargus’ tent. “Ultimus.” The power to ignore any elemental protection and destroy anything in the area—including the planet. His void spells distorted reality. His new spell could destroy it entirely.

He did not yet have the power to call forth more creatures. That would require a heavy dose of red magic that he knew he could get at Tapuya. But that would have to wait.
As long as the Orthrans don’t make it there first. And if they do, I will destroy the planet from afar. If they go for Vostoka, let them have it. I won’t need to heal when I have the power that I possess.

He crawled slowly to the edge, overlooking the planet. For fun, he cast another lightning spell over the forest. It delivered such damage that it wiped out nearly a third of the trees that he could see.

“Unlimited power,” he said. “The power to destroy those who bring me pain. The power to kill Cyrus and Celeste.”

8

Cyrus slowly walked toward the rusted and damaged Imperial Palace, formerly his home, as Celeste worked to calm herself from the damage that Typhos had inflicted on Nubia. As much as he envied his sister for the magical powers that she possessed, it was moments like these that he appreciated not being able to sense as she did. He liked to keep war simple. Kill the enemy, save your allies, and forget about those you can’t help.

I guess Crystil’s had some kind of impact on me. It’s the same mentality she started with.

He paused at the steps leading to the entrance and nodded to a guard to get his father and Crystil. While the guard went behind, he looked back at Capitol City—or the remains of it. Whatever buildings remained looked excavated and charred, and in spaces where they should have been buildings, empty space existed. He looked at the wall and saw humans and Kastori alike working to repair the damage wrought over the past two years by Typhos.
Probably some of these Kastori who helped damage the place. Doesn’t matter. As long as they’re willing to help now.

Besides, they’ll help us get ahead of schedule. Most important thing isn’t here, anyways. It’s to get our defenses back up. And we won’t be fighting an army of Kastori this time. It’ll just be the one evil threat to us all. And whatever monsters he throws this way.

Why are we even here, then?

“Son.”

Cyrus turned to his father, and though his father had his arms open for a hug, both men’s expressions remained dour.

“I take it—”

“Typhos destroyed Nubia,” Cyrus said. “Celeste is taking it pretty hard.”

“I’m sorry, son,” Emperor Orthran said. “We are making decent progress here. The wall will be—”

“Pops, forgive me for the blunt intrusion, but I think we should forget this place.”

His father seemed taken aback by the statement, but not offended. When he did not respond, Cyrus continued.

“This is a wonderful palace, and someday, we’ll reside in it again and rule Monda the way we did before. But it’s nothing more than a symbol of our rule. We don’t need symbols. We need protection. We need people to work. The people don’t care about us guiding them from a palace. They’d probably accept our leadership from inside one of the slave sheds that they used to live in. Time we spend working here is not time spent working on our survival.”

His father listened contemplatively. Halfway through his speech, Crystil approached from behind the emperor, keeping a respectful but noticeable presence. When he finished, Crystil gave a warm, happy smile.
She’s been thinking the same thing.
He kept his neutral expression but messaged her his gratitude.

His father held up a hand and walked to the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the palace from a visitor’s point of view. Cyrus didn’t have any idea which way his father would go, for he knew how much he loved his home.

“I hope you don’t mind sleeping in a warehouse, son,” the Emperor said with a smile.

“The nearest one is about two miles north of here,” Celeste interrupted, walking to the side of their father.

It’s amazing. She stands with the same authority now as he does. And two years ago, she can barely look me in the eye because she would get so nervous.

“I have data here that can give us the kind of boost that we need to fight whatever Typhos creates. Data collected from Nubia. Dad, you were right. The settlement there did help us.”

“What kind of data?” Crystil asked.

Celeste shrugged.

“We just grabbed whatever we could. But the citizens of Nubia figured out how to incorporate magic into their technology. They had labs at the complex that showed how to imbue their weapons with magic, much like Reya for me and… Mom for you, Crystil.”

I don’t know how she does it. I don’t ever think I can look at Erda that way.

“Guys, let’s go. The warehouse will have a room where we can analyze this stuff.”

She gave a beat to make sure everyone understood, and then turned and marched to the warehouse. Cyrus turned to Crystil, who shrugged with an innocent smile. He turned back to see his father following his sister, and he groaned as he trotted ahead.

“I swear Pop’s going to make her the emperor,” he mumbled to himself.

He caught up to his sister moments later, who turned to him with a serious expression.

“As soon as we’re done analyzing this data, we need to make plans to go to Vostoka.”

“The ice planet?”

Celeste nodded, picking up her pace.

“But it’s so nice and warm here!” he said, trying to provide some levity. “I want to go to the beach instead. Why don’t we go to Tapuya where it’s tropical—”

“After Vostoka,” Celeste said. “Work on Vostoka, and we’ll get a ‘vacation’ at Tapuya. That work for you?”

“I mean, I don’t really like to work for my vacations, let’s be honest, I’m the son of an emperor and used to just traveling wherever I want.”

Celeste looked at Cyrus with a serious expression and then paused to laugh. Cyrus maintained his overly serious face for hilarity’s sake, and Celeste continued to laugh, even as their father and Crystil passed by.

“I’m going to teach you how to teleport when we get done with Tapuya so that you can get out of my hair some,” she said.

“Oh, after? Wow, you make it difficult, Celeste,” Cyrus said, the two resuming their walk forward.

“I mean, I would, but, you know, mission stuff, saving the universe, saving our brother.”

“Yeah, right, saving our brother,” Cyrus snorted, without laughing.

Celeste looked at him perturbed, but Cyrus refused to look back at her, knowing if he did, he would see her scar, remember who had delivered it, and anger would cloud his decision making and thought process even further.
He’s the enemy, we kill him if we see him. Easy.

The two walked in awkward silence for several more minutes as the warehouse came into view about a half mile out. Crystil and Emperor Orthran had gotten far enough ahead that Cyrus saw them walk in before he turned to Celeste.

“So, Vostoka. What’s the plan?”

“I need to get white magic from the planet. I know how to heal, but I’m not great at protecting. If I can learn some of that magic, then I can at least neutralize Typhos’ powers.”

Wait, we’re going to destroy a world too?

“I won’t blow up Vostoka the way Typhos did Nubia. I don’t need to. I just need some of its powers. There’ll be some impact on the planet, unfortunately. But if I don’t take something, well, Typhos will win. And I don’t think, based on my sensing, that there’s a whole lot of life out there.”

“Humans, no?”

“Maybe. I didn’t sense much. If there are humans there probably is just a small settlement, nothing more.”

Cyrus shrugged.
I’ll go wherever we need to go. I know what my role is. Support and protect her. She’s the only one who can defeat Typhos. I would just get in her way.

Sucks. I want to be the hero and get the girl.

Guess I’ll only get to do half of those goals.

He smirked and refused to answer Celeste’s inquiry about his facial expression as the two walked inside the warehouse. Humans rapidly worked to assemble more weapons, having rebooted much of the machinery inside and collected the resources needed, but without the aid of the Kastori. Sparks flew from individual weapons, the ceiling stretched up several hundred feet, and numerous voices shouted. Cyrus wondered who had directed the humans toward a specific purpose, and then laughed when he figured it out.