The Otherworld

Book II of the Chosen Shine Saga

Chapter 1

The Memory

“Have you ever wanted to defy what destiny had in store for you?”

Those words haunted Terrill Jacobs.

He had never spoken them once in his life; destiny was a meaningless concept. People died, people avenged that death, and the cycle continued over and over. There was no meaning to it. Whether it was destiny or not had always been irrelevant to him

That night, however, staring at the obsidian castle in the distance, the way that his best friend had spoken those words spooked him; they had chilled his very soul. Like something out of a dream, or a waking nightmare that Terrill hoped to jolt himself from.

“Thinking about destiny is pointless,” he had replied to Atrum, the boy with long, ashen-blond hair, tied into a ponytail. The torn expression that alit in his eyes reflected the sea as they stood at the docks, waiting for the sun to rise. It had been a long journey to get there, Terrill remembered, though all of those details faded into his memory but for those sharp words, ones that Atrum had been asking since childhood. “What will be, will be.”

“What if you don’t want it to be?” Terrill could remember the question being accompanied by the boy looking at his hands. In the background, their other companions were silently observing. “What if you wanted to live your life as you chose? Free of all restrictions.”

“You’re talking about a fantasy,” Terrill told him, his hands shoved inside his pockets. The sun was rising, distorting the air of the scene before him. “We make what choices we can. Can’t control everything that will happen, but we do our best to make sure we avoid the worst through our own actions. That has nothing to do with destiny, and you know that. So, what’s going on with you, Atrum?”

Atrum had not answered. Not until the ship to take them forth had been prepared for them. As they stood on the deck, the wistful sighs floating on the breeze, Atrum managed to choke the words out.

“I don’t want this to be my end.”

If only, Terrill wondered. If only he had understood then what Atrum meant.

If only he understood now.

Memory and dream melded, a swirl of confusing chaos. Perhaps his mind had been jumbled, but Terrill remembered squeezing through that vice and ending up on the other side. He remembered standing before the towering figure of darkness, his brimming black blade held with malice.

That memory only became sharper with time.

“And so, we continue the farce. Come to me, Chosen Ones, born but now to die!”

Golbrucht’s command, his black armor clanking with every move, injected horror into Terrill’s veins as Lumen, the reserved and stately royal, ran at the King of the Dark. His Guardian, Charles, did nothing, and all became as chaos.

Blade met blade. Darkness exploded with light.

Terrill could remember Lumen dropping to his knees, unharmed, but accepting of death as Charles held the blade above him. Whether to protect, or to destroy, Terrill never knew or found out. As he tried to make his own move, a slicing gale erupted against his knee, and that had been when he’d seen her. The woman.

Winifred.

“Out of my way!” Terrill roared, his blade cleaving the air as he attempted to strike her. She sent him flying backwards, into the walls of the abyssal castle. “What are you doing here?!”

“The King of the Dark is an endless cycle. I’d not have you interrupt that. The legend needs to play out.”

“And what legend is that?!” Terrill broke free of his bonds. The castle around him became inky and abstract, as if all details were drained away and only the players of this particular drama remained. Winifred sent a gale at him, but even with his busted knee, Terrill pushed through it, weathering the assault. He inched closer to the kneeling Lumen, the attacking Charles…and Atrum.

“Golbrucht, you will die now!” The boy had come from behind while the shadowy king was focused on the Chosen One. In that moment, he had plunged the sword in his right hand through the King’s chest, only for a hand to reach behind and grab him with remarkable contortionism.

“Only the Chosen One is allowed to kill me. That is how it goes, boy. You have a very different role.”

“My role is what I choose! I’ll not be bound by your fate or legend!”

Terrill’s head hurt, the shouts and screams like a jackhammer inside.

“Atrum, you can’t! If we avoid this today, he will only continue to exist tomorrow.”

“I won’t let him dictate our future! I am a Chosen One!”

“Then you’ll die like one.”

Terrill felt like he was moving through sludge, as though the constitution of the floor had changed, or perhaps it was reality breaking down around him. Winifred’s words held weight, but he struggled with fruitless flailing to reach them. His blade swung out, clashing with Golbrucht, who regarded him with pitiless eyes, before tossing him away to the ground. He was up again, though Winifred was in his path.

The darkness leaked from the very walls.

“I have no need for one such as you. But the rest of you, let us enact this legend and break the chains that bind us! Come, Chosen One, kill me!”

“Lumen! Atrum!” Terrill’s cries became more and more muted, distorted by the world around him. His sword met nothing but a wall of darkness that he could not break through. He stomped his feet, the earth bending to his will but doing little against the black flames. “Hold on! Just hold on!”

“Terrill, stop this. This needs to play out.” Charles held him back, and Terrill felt the pain in his knee escalate.

“Charles, you’re a Guardian! You need to protect them!”

“And this is how it’s meant to be.”

He couldn’t understand, and did not want to.

All he could understand in that moment, was the exact second when Lumen finally stood and his wavering blade thrust forth and pierced the King of the Dark’s breast. His sword dropped, as did he, and for a moment all had been silent.

Then Golbrucht’s body burst with all manner of dark tendrils. Some snapped against Terrill, holding him in place, but not for long as he broke through the shadows and pulled an unconscious Lumen up from the ground. He was unable to find his way out.

Only when he spied the face in the darkness, his blade fallen, did Terrill begin to understand what Atrum meant. He wanted to kill Golbrucht. He wanted to be the Chosen One.

He wanted to be King; the master of his own fate.

“Atrum…” Terrill breathed, his hand ghosting through the dark waters to try and grab ahold of him.

“Terrill…help me. I don’t want to be…” The boy’s hand was extended, and the words were choked on his lips. In that moment, Terrill had not understood what he was trying to say, but he knew he wanted to reach the boy and pull him out of the abyss.

Winifred prevented that.

As they nearly reached one another, a cyclone erupted between them. Terrill lost his hold on Lumen, and lost sight of Atrum. He was torn away, flung and battered into unconsciousness by the storm, and by the woman that sent him flying with her mocking taunt.

“Aw, the hero thinks he can save everyone?” he could hear her say, those taunts boiling his blood. “Too bad that’s just not possible. There’s no one you’ll be able to save. Not here or there. Later, hero.”

And as the wind carried him, Terrill had drifted, only to awaken to the beasts.

His mind moved in fast-forward, catching up, until he’d heard Atrum’s name uttered again, along with his shiny new title: the Shadow King.

Now, however, Terrill knew what Atrum had been trying to say.

“I don’t want to be a Guardian. I am a Chosen One. I’ll craft my destiny how I see fit…with Golbrucht’s darkness.”

With that, Terrill’s eyes shot open, his heart thumping away and his throat dry as the last thing he saw was Atrum’s face. It twisted itself, from tear-stained to smirking. In the morning dew on the grasslands of the western continent of Sagitta, Terrill caught his breath.

No… Just my mind playing tricks again, he reasoned, reaching up to rub at his eyes and sucking in a deep breath. His palms had sweated during the night, and he would have been afraid he was coming down with something until a jug of water was tossed into his lap by a companion. He looked up, staring into the gray eyes of his companion healer and friend, Krysta. She said nothing, and only tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear while she backed away with a smile. He was silently grateful, and began to down the liquid. I still don’t really know what happened in that darkness. Only that we disappeared. I can’t let Winifred’s words twist my memories into something else.

That was far easier said than done.

The Fiend’s words atop Devil’s Haven had taken up more than a portion of his mind. So present were they, that the time spent ruminating on them only clashed with the rumors of war stirring in the kingdom of Valorda. Tipping the water into his lips, Terrill reoriented himself to the realization of where he was, camping on the side of the road a few days out from the capital city of Serotin. They had been making good time, helped by their two companions that were already awake and huddled around some papers: Floyd Margrove and Torry Rainert.

Terrill couldn’t help but find himself surprised in Torry, though she didn’t take notice of his awakened state. He was grateful for that, watching the duo in their usual study session that reflected their status as top students at the Academy, the premier school in the art of magical research. Terrill considered them more, as comrades of a sort, tied together by the bonds of battle that had happened against the pirates over a week ago. That alone nearly sparked a different war. It was there he had seen a side of the impulsive and foolish Floyd he was grateful for: the depth of loyalty he held towards those he considered friends. Torry was no different, and though she was raised in an all-too-privileged upbringing, she never once complained or slowed them down…unless it was to talk research.

Those moments were the ones Terrill actively tried to avoid. She’d made it a habit to pester him about his Earth Magic from sunup to sundown, except for when Floyd or Krysta diverted her attention. Those few moments, when he wasn’t having nightmares, his mind was trained towards the war brewing on the continent of Gladius. If there was a war.

Everything had been so confusing or so carefully laid, Terrill didn’t know what to believe. For his part, he only knew his role as an attaché to Floyd, now the ambassador for Serotin, to ascertain the state of things and prevent meaningless death.

And find Atrum and the others, too, he reasoned every time the thought came up. I need the truth about that, too.

“Something on your mind?” Krysta’s sweet voice, as clear as ever, was close to his ear when she sat next to him. Her head was turned in his direction, and he offered a chuckle. “You had another nightmare. Your friend Atrum still on your mind, I take it?”

“I keep going back to that battle, looking for any clues about whether Atrum really is the Shadow King. But either I’m twisting events to fit this possibility, or my memory is messed up,” Terrill said. He remained quiet, careful to not interrupt the brainstorm session of the couple perusing their notes. “The Atrum I knew was never someone who would condone violence…but then, maybe he changed. Maybe his time in this world changed him.”

“This world, hm?”

It was something known, but not often mentioned, except for the time Torry had heard Floyd blurt it out without thinking.

Terrill was in another world, not his own. It looked the same, and had almost all of the same people and places, but things were different. Magic was part of this world. The Guardians and Chosen Ones were no longer a thing. It wasn’t twisted by any metric, but there was something off about it to Terrill that he couldn’t quite grasp.

All he knew was that his actions here were not meaningless. The Lifeblood, the source of all Earth Magic, had told him that, as confusing as the concept was. To Terrill, it meant this possible war was just as real to his own world if he was there instead of here. It also meant the world he was in had a second, and far more dangerous, problem.

“The Fiends…”

That particular rumination got everyone’s attention.

“You that worried about them, Terrill?” Floyd called across their campsite, not even bothering to acknowledge his awakened state. Terrill never offered Floyd the courtesy, either, now that he thought about it. “I’m sure we can figure out what’s going on once we get to Valorda. Unless you’re worried about the Academy.”

“I wouldn’t. We have a vast store of mages that any attempt at a war would be met with foolish retribution,” Torry said. She sounded too proud of that, her dirty-blonde shoulder-length hair rising with the light breeze over the plains. “No Fiend, whatever they are, would stand a chance.”

“They’re not exactly trained in combat,” Terrill muttered. Krysta offered a snort at the obvious statement about the “forces” the Academy could offer, but she was the only one. “But no, I’m not worried about the road behind. It’s the road ahead I’m concerned about.”

“Ain’t nothing to be concerned about, brother,” Floyd said. He scooted across the grass, slinging an arm around Terrill. The young man did nothing to throw the annoying redheaded gnat off of him. “Against the combined might of this team, those Fiends may as well quiver in fear!”

“Don’t be daft,” Krysta said, now flicking Floyd’s nose and forcing him to disengage from Terrill. “We could barely deal with one of them, and there’s no idea how many actually exist out there.”

“That’s why we’re researching the Lifebloods!” Torry chimed in, sounding too excited about the heavy topic of discussion. “The font of all magic would be a wealth of information regarding Fiends, the evolution of the craft and who knows what else! We’re so close to discerning the location of the next nearest one…”

“You both realize we’re heading for Valorda, right? Not a Lifeblood,” Terrill said. His remonstration did little to deter the former students. Floyd rejoined Torry (and rather close at that) in poring over documents. “Whatever the Fiends have planned in Valorda takes precedence. We finish that, then we can look into the origin of Fiends and magic and whatnot. Until then, Torry, keep your head down. We got in your father’s good graces. I don’t need him catching up to you and accusing us of kidnapping. Especially Floyd.”

“But Mr. Rainert likes me now.”

“He likes you as much as LeBrandon liked the Serotin soldiers.” Floyd frowned at Krysta’s implication, receiving a consoling pat on the back from Torry. She was wearing a similar frown to Floyd, remembering the events at Devil’s Haven that had to do with the now missing leader of the pirates. It unsettled her, her uselessness with the man that had beaten her and burned his own men in some crazed attempt to become this “Shadow King”. Those thoughts led to a resolution. Torry stood.

“Well, if that woman is such a threat to our continued journey, then I think we know what time it is.”

Her announcement made Terrill groan, his body remembering the training regimen of the last couple days. Floyd’s frown became a grin, while Krysta stifled her giggles when Torry stood before Terrill, hands on her hips. “Come on, Torry, we don’t have time for this. We need to be making tracks to Kirdon as soon as possible-”

“Kirdon isn’t going anywhere. My father’s ship will be perfectly prepared for our departure upon arrival, but if you’re so worried, you need to train up your magic. Earth Magic is my personal weak point, but it doesn’t mean you can slack off on your own. The rudimentary display you gave at the Haven left something to be desired.” Torry was adamant. Terrill gulped, fearing he’d need backup to get out of this particular exercise, but Floyd was loudly whistling with intentional ignorance. Krysta became his only beacon of hope.

“Good luck.”

“Krysta! Come on, Torry, we can’t waste time with-”

“We’ll be able to reach Kirdon by late afternoon,” she said, taking another step forward. The earth rumbled and Terrill feared that even with his own power over the earth, he was nowhere near her level, despite her claims. He swallowed the thick ball in his throat, but didn’t dare to back up.

“We, uh, we’re not traveling by carriage you kno-oh!” Torry had pulled him to his feet, nodding once she’d pushed him far enough from where Floyd and Krysta chose to partake in their early breakfast. Before Torry could take her position, Terrill scrambled over to grab his sword and secure it around his back.

“I’ve already well calculated it. We can afford an hour or two to train you in the basics. I do believe my weight needs to be pulled around here, and this is my contribution.”

“I’d listen to her, Terrill. Torry is angry when she gets mad-yeow! Careful, Torry, you nearly singed my ear!” Floyd’s protests were ignored by the smug Torry. She was rolling up her sleeves, hardly noticing she’d shot the apple in Krysta’s hand with her snap of flame. Terrill sighed.

Another magic training session was unavoidable.

“All right, already. Bring it on, Torry. Give me your worst.”

“You don’t want my worst. Not in a magic showdown,” she said, but couldn’t help the prideful smile from twitching at her lips. “Okay, review time, Terrill. Magic. Give me the basics.”

If he could sigh any louder, he would have, but his drill sergeant still expected the answer. He started by withdrawing his blade. “Magic is derived from six elements: light, dark, fire, water, wind and earth. Each person has an affinity for a particular element but is not confined by that one element. Magic also comes from a reserve of power inside of us, theorized to be linked to one’s soul. The more you use, the more exhausted you feel. However, if you have more materials on hand, depending on your element, you’ll get less exhausted.”

“Well, you don’t have to sound so bored saying it,” Torry said, but she looked just as bored to listen. She was more concerned with twirling her bow in hand and nocking an arrow. The bend of her bowstring made her grin look stretched and creepy, but Terrill was used to it, stretching before the order he knew was coming. “Well, if the basics are boring for you, let’s have some practical application. Throw any magic my way, but don’t use your sword as a conduit. Pure spells.”

“You talk about spells like they’re not just moving the earth,” Terrill mumbled. Torry heard him, her eyes flashing as he stomped the ground. From his foot, he felt his own soul stirring, pooling into the ground and sending a line of stony fangs racing for Torry. She hopped backwards, aiming her arrow at the stones and firing. It crackled with sharp lightning as the ambient air changed. When it made contact, it exploded, sending clots of dirt raining on their entire campsite.

“Watch it, Torry, you’ll get our documents dirt-oh boy, Terrill’s into it…”

Floyd was right on that account. Having started, and seeing no way out of it, Terrill struck again. With a clap of his hands to the ground, a large stone monolith emerged between him and the top Academy student. He pressed against it and sent the shield through the ground, leaving a deep cleft of dirt in their campsite. He knew that wouldn’t be enough to deter Torry, and soon he heard the telltale thwock that indicated her arrow embedding itself in the rock. Clasping his sword tight, Terrill ran for where his shield was about to explode. Seconds later, the blast of fire did just that, raining rubble upon them. Floyd and Krysta hid under a poorly made table, but continued to watch the fight. Terrill leapt through the rubble.

His most recent “spell”, as Torry liked to call them, came to him. He drew from his soul, encrusting his free fist with stones as he descended on the girl. She saw him coming.

“Water Wall!” A lift of her hand brought currents surging forth from nowhere. It blindsided Terrill, buffering his attack and tossing him off. He landed, skidding back through the debris as the rocks vanished from his fist. He reached out. Just as Torry had been trying to teach him, he could feel the raw material around him, those stones that were waiting for him to use them. Their similar magics resonated, and Terrill felt them come under the domain of his power. With a yank, he sent the stones flying for Torry. She grinned at them. He didn’t stop his forward momentum and ran for her. “Let flame and wind rip apart the sky. Rend this space with blazing glory. Vacuum Blast!”

Her arrows all fired in quick succession, aimed for each cluster of stones that suspended themselves in midair. Terrill ducked beneath them, feeling the wind trying to pull his clothes upward as the heat started. He raced along the ground, his sword held tight before he dropped into a slide. The wind finished pulsing, and with a blast of heat, destroyed the suspended stones. They scattered everywhere with the wind, throwing documents off the table, which flipped off Floyd and Krysta. The two scrambled to grab all of the loose papers.

Terrill made his move in that moment, coming up and holding his blade right against Torry’s throat.

“You said to use magic without my sword, but not that the duel couldn’t be decided with a sword,” he said, pinning her arm to ensure she couldn’t utilize her bow. Torry scoffed, shrugging with defeat. “You need to get better at close combat.”

“You need to get faster at utilizing magic,” she shot back. The two disengaged from one another. Terrill sheathed his sword. Krysta and Floyd had finished gathering the errant pages, leaving the latter distracted by one of them. “I told you, using a spell name or reciting a spell’s ‘lyrics’ so to say, can help you to concentrate faster. Just feeling the earth wouldn’t be enough. It might behoove you to dip into other magics, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll get back to you on that.” Torry’s cheeks inflated with a pout. Terrill knew he shouldn’t be so dismissive of Torry’s claims, appreciating her attempts to train him in the ways of magic, but he was more than pleased with his blade. It had served him well thus far, and he wasn’t about to change his entire style. “For now, can we get a move on? The Fiends’ plan won’t stop just for us. I want to get to Kirdon by sundown.”

“Oh, fine!” Torry said. She tossed her arms up high and then snatched her bag and beret, leading their party back on the dirt path leading westward. “But this isn’t done. I expect you to develop a spell at some point.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever, teach.” He rolled his eyes, but she didn’t see it. Krysta did, holding back her laugh as she fell in step at his side. “Don’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t. But our group certainly feels lively now, doesn’t it? Far cry from when I found you in the forest.”

“If only it was more silent…” Terrill lamented. Krysta’s laugh indicated that she knew he didn’t mean it. Not entirely, at least. Not that it stopped his solemn expression on the road forward, with the docks and coast that represented Kirdon appearing around midday and coming closer with every step. Behind them, Terrill had sworn to seeing horses trying to catch up to them, but they never seemed able, leaving only the destination in mind. He was just glad to have not been asked to perform any more magic; he said nothing, but the earlier session had felt a slight drain on his magic capabilities.

Part of the reason had to have been Torry’s distraction in looking over a document that Floyd had pulled out. They were both excited by it, which only meant trouble as far as Terrill was concerned. He was preoccupied with enough trouble already, a tightness in his chest presenting itself with every step closer to Kirdon, all while the sun set lower upon them.

As late afternoon arrived, the couple’s muttered brainstorming session came to an end with joyous proclamation. It was none too soon, as they encountered a fence that guided them directly into their destination.

“We figured it out!” Floyd proclaimed, falling back and slinging an arm around Terrill and Krysta. Both removed him, but he shoved the document in Krysta’s face until she relented. Her nose was wrinkled, but she took the sheet and peered over it.

“Lifeblood of Fire? That’s what you’re after next?”

“Just a guess,” Torry called back. She struggled under the weight of her pack, adjusting it on her shoulders, but her flushed and sweaty glee couldn’t be hidden. A skip had appeared in her step, ready to leap over the threshold into Kirdon, ignoring all else. “The Lifeblood of Fire, as the source of all fire, must exist in a place with a lot of heat. The southern continent of Ardoris is my best guess. Rumor has it the Tarkinder Volcano there has been active for a long time. My mother’s notes point out how unusual that is.”

“The second discovery of a lifetime!” Floyd proclaimed. His arms flew out to his side, but were deflected by Krysta and missed Terrill entirely. “So, Terrill, after Valorda, what say we take a trip south? Eh?”

Terrill didn’t answer. He had stopped moving, his eyes fixated past the fence, and beyond Torry. She had stopped at Floyd’s confusion, as had Krysta, with each of them looking in the direction of the young man.

“Something wrong?” Torry asked. She followed his gaze, joined by the others, and her brow furrowed with worry until she recognized what she was staring at. “Oh… You’ve never seen them, have you? The graves at Kirdon.”

Her words were enough to make Terrill’s jaw clench. It was an apt description: rows upon rows of stone slabs, each portraying the name of a fallen fighter, with many different seals of many different countries displayed upon them. Some trees shaded a couple graves, while others remained to be bleached by the sun. Visitors were planting flowers, and the place, for its vast space, looked well-maintained. The air still remained weary and oppressive. Terrill let out a shallow breath.

“I would be surprised if he had,” Floyd said, throwing his hands behind his head. It was a rare sight, but his eyes had turned pensive. The weight of the cemetery was not taken as a joke to him. “It’s just another cemetery. Lots like it all over the world, I’m sure.”

“No…I’ve heard of it,” Terrill assured them. His feet moved of their own accord, carrying him forward towards the fence. Krysta kept her eyes on him, and he breathed the one true thing he knew about the graves there. “I’ve heard of it because…because my parents are buried here.”