XVI. Lyra

Adax was engulfed in light. His entire body was covered in it. No, the light was coming from him. It was his power, wasn’t it? Her dagger had stopped midway to her throat, her hand suspended in time, awash with the light. And then it was pried gently away from her, a single ray of light wrapping around it. Time resumed. Mavi’s face was distorted. “You lied about not being addicted to Arteficia, didn’t you? You possess power that isn’t yours, and I see your body craving more of it.”, Adax told Mavi, somehow keeping her immobilised. “You fool, do you think this will end with me? There are others, as resolute as I, to get their hands on more plants, to get through the Shroud. Go ahead and kill me, you won’t accomplish anything.” Mavi spat. “I will not kill you. I am not like you, I will never be. I will just take what is not yours.” Lyra’s chest puffed with pride. Adax willed all the stolen power out of Mavi; It seemed relieved, happy to oblige, if it meant being set free. Somehow, Lyra could sense that. Was it Adax allowing her to see that? So much power stolen; from Malan, from Infelix, from countless others. Adax struggled. The effort of holding so much power was making him tremble. Lyra went next to him and laced her fingers with his. The stolen power danced its way into her as well. She gasped and Adax looked at her. “Can you help? I can’t hold it all on my own.”, he asked, light swirling in and out of his mouth as he spoke. Lyra nodded and shared the weight of it, the warmth, and the potential. Together, they held on to it until Mavi was lying on the floor, withered and void of all looted gifts, muttering to herself. Lyra didn’t think the woman would live for much longer. It seemed that she aged a hundred years in the span of a few seconds. Adax looked up through the open windows. She followed his gaze to where she knew laid the Cloak. He nodded once and she understood. With a gasp, together, they released the power and sent it to the Cloak. She shuddered as all the impact points ripped holes, letting the early dawn pass through. With a flash that could be surely seen for miles, it burst into shreds, the pieces of it quietly swirling, spiralling in the air, the early morning breeze carrying away the fragments of power captured for so long, now finally liberated. She turned to Adax. He was looking at her, joy and pride in his face. “How?”, she asked. “Mavi, and even Malan, thought fear would work. They were wrong. When I saw what you were about to do, when I felt your love and your pain mirroring my own, I felt joy. Such joy, Lyra. How could I not? Such gratitude at having found you. Or at you having found me,” he chuckled, and Lyra felt tears streaming down her cheeks. “Like in the fairytales? Love made you find the power within?” she tried to joke. “It seems so. Sorry for not being as heroic as you.”, he sounded apologetic. “Heroic? What are you saying?” Lyra asked, puzzled. “You tried to take your own life to protect me and countless others. I’d call that very heroic.” Lyra looked at him incredulously. “Seeing as you are an Artefix descending from Roone himself, and you just lit up the place like a million lanterns, I think we can agree you are heroic as well.” Adax laughed, making her heart bloom. She hadn’t heard him laugh in so long. “Now what? If what Mavi said is true, we need to go before other Scions come for us.” Adax shrugged. “I am sure they will. But we will be in Pyria.” Lyra felt that bubble of excitement again. “How?” In response, she felt the familiar rush of a pairing. Adax walked to the open window, and gestured at it with a flourish. He smiled. “After you.”