'd never seen the sea at such a rage, not even in the flicker of the Red War's memories. A warrior by its own, a hand of death as it drowned armies and flanks, bowing to the lord drenched and bloodied.

He'd been barely twelve back then, just a young boy wielding a sword and a sea, cutting throats and bringing forces down—they'd all been young back then. And they were all here in this memory, fighting against what looked like half of Eziara's legions barreling on Arelesia's shores.

He was so young, and so terribly powerful, commanding a sea at his sheer will, bending and twisting it to his whims. Waves cresting and breaking at his orders.

There had been an army fighting at the back of the Cardelyon house, court members of those I both did and did not know. Perdiel's twenty three sons and daughters were here, and his wife, too, before they all fell.

All of them, fighting in a war so bloodied, so brutal—and it was nothing but a scrap of what was to come. A godless war, a joke to what Apocalys would do. And yet so many had fallen on the shores I walked through Carter's mind, such a great army rendered to half by the end. We didn't have that army anymore of skilled warriors.

War-torn screams rang in the air, thunder and lighting and rain tearing the skies. Lands trembled, seas attacked, armies marched and lunged, and yet I could only stare at my court, the young faces pale and sick. At Carter, who fought for his home as wildly as a monster liberated from all his chains.

But it was not the shocking strength, nor the unwavering, deadly powers seeping out of him, that had my eyes fixed on him, on his face. On his eyes.

Glowing silver.

Silver—and not the kind that made Hydn and Green Leaf's eyes. No, it was a different shade, a different light. Almost godly. But the Armedes blood, it had always been considered godly by its subjects, a strength made of the ichor that had filled Leander's arteries. He'd been hailed a demi-god, a mortal deity. And those titles had carried on with his bloodline, to each and every Armedes. And Carter, he was one of us, had been in a way no one could understand.

Dier had walked alongside, both of us a wraith through the splattering blood and falling corpses, just like in Saél's memories. 'None,' his voice echoed within me, 'had seen the silver eyes. All of them utterly charmed, and so was I.'

I kept watching silently as the battles kept unfurling, as nights bled into days and so again, as armies approached and retreated through seas and lands, from shores to mountains to the capital's borders.

'This was not a partial war,' I admitted as the memories took us back to the edge of the shores. 'This was a full-forced attack on Arelesia.'

Dier did not comment, his eyes telling me enough that he knew that, the he despised the partial word so thoroughly because it made it sound so small, so easy. He pointed at a cadre of men, all of them robust, wild -looking, barbaric in a way as they rained steel and magic on the demons enclosing around them. Hair that was thatch of dark curls was slick on their faces and necks, some strands barely swaying with the trashing winds. Twin swords shaped like glaives swung and danced, slitting from navel to sternum.

Side to side, they fought with the sirens—disarmingly beautiful creatures they were, with deadly powers at their hands. 'The sirens are my mother's people, subject of the Aquatic Second Crown of Arelesia. A great number of them died seven years ago, a great population of skilled fierce warriors reduced to only a few houses.'

Because the Arelesian crown had been divided, one for those who lived on grounds, and one for those underwater, sirens and undines and mermaids and unknown monsters all bred from one single queen gifted to these seas by Areles himself. And Daélim had been ruler of that crown, but wedded to Claurod, the crowns had been united, their orders decreed as one. Two mighty houses—Cardelyon and Aneer—united and allied, the strongest union in these times.

'The men were my father's friends. They'd been there from the start, raised me as much as he did, been there when he couldn't. Always.' The silence following his words told me enough.

They were all dead.

A clawed hand hurled straight past my face, a body of scales and steel stepping through us, leaving both the lord and I in a shimmer of light that swayed with the scenery as it shifted. Shores and seas were gone, war cries and bone drums silent, and only whipping sounds echoed in a mountain's heart taking shape.

Whipping—it made my breaths heavy in my lungs, especially when a young body came to sight, strapped like I had been, bloodied beyond measure. It took me strength, to hide the heaviness in my chest, to pretend like the scene did not bother me. Like his words did not come back to me in a drowning wave. Let me protect you.

There were head spiked and planted on the ground in front of Carter's chained body. Some eyes were rolled back, some were still frozen in place with a scream that never left them. The bodies were nowhere to be found. His father's men.

My hand slipped to the one resting on his side, interlacing our fingers, grip tight. Dier didn't do a move, either to push me or pull me closer. 'They were called the Stallions, because they ran equally as fast. Because they enjoyed the winds and the run, their limbs stronger than any mortal. They never lost a fight, never died killed. And when buried, traditions claimed to tie a strand of their hair to their favored weapon and plant it in their lands after the body had been drowned.'

His hand tightened on mine. 'They were family, Celestia. Uncles not tied by blood, closer to my heart than any can imagine. They taught me to hold a sword, they taught me how to live. And they are gone, had been since long.'

He'd taught me how to live, too. Him and all of my friends. I knew what pain silently lingered in him, that chocking, mute agony at that loss, could feel it coursing within me.

'When I escaped , even the heads were nowhere to be found.'

'That's why you grow your hair, to tie it on their weapons.'

He barely nodded. 'They had no families left, all of them brought down. And all that remains of them are the memories.'

He pulled me to his chest, and even as wraiths, his grip felt as real as flesh. He held me tight—so tight, as thought I was about to slip away, to drift with the memories and never come back.

The young Carter was still unconscious, the mountain's heart empty, not a demon in sight. He'd looked so frail, so battered, so broken. He'd looked like he was heartbeats away from stepping the threshold between life and death, drifting away slowly, left here to die.

'How did you escape?'

The memories bled dark, everything dissolving until it was a pure and sweet darkness enveloping us, just like the Dark that had consumed me.

'I don't know,' he admitted, the arms around me still tight, the healing strength still seeping inside of me. 'The last thing I was conscious about was being here before ending sprawled and healed on the parlor's floor in our old castle that had been half demolished. But—'

I raised my eyes to him, fingers still interlaced, waiting for his words. It hadn't been unease on his face, rather a still lingering sense of vagueness. What Ramos told me, how little he knew, he didn't scrap the surface this time. Carter was not broken, not in the sense we thought. Grieving, yes, all of them. But not wrecked, neither physically or mentally.

He confirmed it enough when he added, 'When you asked me in that village and I told you I heard your voice after the war, it was here, before I found myself in what remained of my home.'

I blinked, and understood what he meant when he told me I was the one who should be ready to hear the story, not him. 'I remember a hand, fair and light, glowing as though caressed by moonlight, dotted with runes and lights guiding me back. I remember your voice whispering my name, telling to wake up, to wait.'

'Wait for what?'

His eyes were still heavy, but he'd smiled, small and…'For you.'

For a moment, the days at the First Norm came back, every moment together surfacing on gentle winds, how he looked at me, how he was always there, with that knowing gleam in his eyes. As though he'd known who I was from the very start—and he did. But he'd been trying to piece that realization with all that was happening, with all he knew. I didn't even have to ask to know he was still doing so, just like I did.

'You guided me back to life, back home, and I waited each day and night, searched the world for the woman with your voice, with the face that had been hazy in my mind.'

'Until you found me in the Blossom village.'

'You found me more than I truly found you, Celestia.'

'A silent call finally answered.'

His smile still hadn't faded as the darkness changed, and cold snow was beneath us again, chill winds running loud.

''It had been your voice, too, the night I'd been back to Arelesia after you left for your mission. You were the one who told me of the prophecy in my dreams, just like before.'' He leaned forward, wrapping the cloak around us tighter before he let out a long breath that came in plumes of white smoke.

''It echoed again and again in my head, in the middle of the night. It chocked me, the words cutting sharp.'' He met my eyes. ''I left Arelesia on the spot, barely leaving a note to my parents before I slipped through a gate that had me inside the king's rooms. He'd been shocked beyond belief, not because I had slipped past the enchantments, but because it had been then the silver fully manifested.''

I allowed his words to linger for long, thoughts tangling and spinning, seeming to reach no solid ends. Instead, I whispered to him about what Téors had said about a possible solution, and then about our escape, on how I planned to burn and drown those demons, to destroy them so thoroughly they would be crumbling before realizing it.

He was silent for a good moment, weighing each attack, analyzing it throughout, each gain and loss. "You will wreck them from the inside then, scheme in their own game, and then blast them all.''

I only nodded.

''One wrong move,'' he leaned closer, one elbow falling on his knee, healing magic ever so slowly slipping back, ''and the safety of all Ardoria is nothing but ashes in the winds. And yours, too.'' He tucked one strand of hair away, wiping the blood with it. ''It is a deadly gamble—all of it.''

''I know. But it is our only one.''

He flexed his fingers, falling silent again, his face a mirror to what my father had looked like, weighing if it was worth the risk. If it would have been safer staying home, searching for a solution from there. But it was already far too late. Instead he breathed, ''I will fight with you, both inside their courts and on our way out. Both of us, and every support we might ever need from Arelesia. It will give them something to fear before war arrives."

The thought made me grin: night powers that were almost twins ravaging together, bringing not only cities down, but continents. A song of destruction and death, an unstoppable weapon.

"One last thing," I added, earning a raised eyebrow. "Will you let me brush and braid your hair before you cut it?"

His eyes were glimmering, rubies shining with a fire kindled in his soul. "I'll let you do whatever you want with it.''

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. "Including dyeing it?"

The stare I received was long and unwavering, and I was ready to be told not to push my luck too hard, but he smiled, his tone teasing in a way as he breathed, "Including dyeing it."

My laugh had been at the edge of my throat when a ripple in powers flickered around us.

A knife sliced the air and hit straight in the distance between our faces, missing aim by a second too early.

It fell quiet against the snow as bodies were hauled in front of us, gagged and faces pressed down. And amongst them, Luthian—Veidor—stood tall.

And unscratched.

If you enjoyed this chapter, please click the little, golden star, it would mean so much.

What do you think is about Celestia and Carter? All this mystery around them? And what about Luthian?

Comment your thoughts, would love to read them.

As obvious as it is, The Heirs of Death is set to be quite bigger than The Mark of Aether, since book 2 is already at 31 chapters published, spread over 44 parts, and the story is not nigh being done yet. Which a good and a bad thing at once ;)

What do you think will happen on the long run? Take a guess.

Until next Friday, have an amazing week.