Legacy of Light 1 WHO AM I? WHERE AM I? Come on, girl, remember. Remember, dumb-ass . before it goes dark. Maia . Yes. My name . Maia Finley. Good.
Good . I guess. Lips shut against the water. No breath. Eyes stinging. The image of a rocky cliff rippling in the darkness, just above the waves of Dover Strait. I caught the reflection of the moon against the surface of the water, bright flashes in my dimming vision. What happened? My chest was going to explode.
Bubbles slipped from my lips when I moved them. The sounds of heavy, baritone, rumbling water battered my senses, cacophonic until it slipped into the recesses of my mind. I was sinking. Wow. It was for real this time. I was totally dying. This was me dying. My body felt cold.
It was a cliché, maybe, but still true. It had gone numb, even before breaking the surface of Dover Strait. The feeling in my arms had vanished. The water pressure''s death grip on my skull . even that began to feel like a wistful caress. Time was up. My life was over. But maybe it was what I deserved.
Those reckless decisions born out of fear. The secrets kept. Step by wrongful step until the steel of Belle''s sword pierced through my sternum. This was the fate I''d paid for. I was dying. Oh well. At least I''d get to see my family again. It went dark.
Darkness. Darkness . Then I saw that which I never could with living eyes. A mysterious white light swept through me, pulling soul from dead flesh. It surrounded me, filling me with a sensation I''d felt before. This power. The power that fed the Effigies and the existence of the phantoms. A spring that connected life and death in a continuous cycle.
A continuous cycle. But I was not to be part of it. My lonely white river was my own. The power of fate spirited me away on a journey just for me. I was a traveler and I was traveling. Traveling to the next girl . * * * "So it''s finally time, Maia." Natalya Filipova.
The Fire Effigy before me. A familiar panic hit me too suddenly, and for a moment I thought I''d faint. I''d been conditioned to fear this girl on sight. And why wouldn''t I after the number of times she''d tried to take over my body? But she was different now. It was her quiet, unreadable expression, devoid of the contention I was used to seeing. "You didn''t last as long as I thought you would," she said. I thought Natalya''s voice would have some kind of mocking lilt to it. Like: "Ha, moron, you''re dead! Look at you!" But her pale face was stone set into a somber expression.
Why would she mock me? She knew too well the pain of death. I had to be dead, at any rate. I mean, what else could this be? I wasn''t scrying. The weird thing was, I could still kind of feel it. My soul leaving my body behind to sink in the lonely strait. And yet here I was too, standing in this familiar white stream before Natalya Filipova, the once legendary hero. "How does it feel?" she asked, genuinely curious, like maybe we''d had different experiences. "What, death?" I thought for a moment.
"It feels . stretchy." Natalya tilted her head, her brown eyes narrowed. "Stretchy . ?" I breathed in deeply, contemplating the odd sensation rippling through my "body," or whatever this was. "Yeah, stretchy. Like I''m being pulled in two places at once." "It''s all the same," she said in her intense voice familiarly inflected with a Russian accent.
"Your life force, your consciousness, and the magic within you . it''s all going to the same place. Searching for the next one." "The next Fire Effigy . ," I whispered. "It''s only been seconds," she said. "But it''ll start to feel like years. We experience time here differently.
It feels slower. Much slower. You''ll see." Her expression darkened, and for a moment her gaze looked off-kilter, unfocused like one of her glass decanters sliding off an unbalanced shelf, alcohol spilling everywhere. You''ll see. Her promise resonated like echoes in a graveyard. I looked down at my feet shimmering beneath the waters. "And this place .
" "Everything is connected," Natalya said. "Life and death. Those that die tether to the life they will become. But not for us. For us, our souls don''t manifest into new life. We are pulled into existing life. Our souls find refuge in the bodies of others. The channels of fate twisted only for us.
We''re bound only to each other. Like links in a chain." Links in a chain. A dangerous game. I remembered the words but couldn''t place where I''d heard them. Natalya looked up at the endless sky. "If all life is bonded by chains of fate that lead one form to the next, then you could say this place is a manifestation of our chain. Every girl linked here, tucked inside the other like a matryoshka doll.
" She smiled. "A fitting fate for me." Said the girl once called the Matryoshka Princess. I understood now--there were many layers to this girl, layers I never noticed as a fan. The legendary hero. The struggling alcoholic. The mentor. The vengeful spirit.
Now she was the mentor again, like she had been for Belle, imparting her wisdom upon the girl whose mind she''d tried too many times to destroy. "Where we are now is how we perceive our connection," she said, "how we see each other with eyes of the dead. Of course, we should be able to see each other when we share souls." When I was alive, I''d have to meditate--scry--to get here. Natalya''s tall frame guarded the magnificent red door as she always had, her hand on the hilt of her proud sword, her Zhar-Ptitsa, whose tip had disappeared into the waves at her feet. But this time, there was no fanfare, no shock or conflict. Nothing but pity and maybe a hint of disappointment--the kind my parents used to have whenever they knew I could have done better. June too.
She''d given me that look more than once. June . She''d smiled so prettily just before Minerva''s dazzling stream of light hit the ground and obliterated her. Minerva, the Sect''s secret satellite weapon. And Rhys . Oh god, Aidan. I covered my mouth, stifling a teary gasp. "It hurts, doesn''t it, Maia?" Too many memories came rushing back, but they were all in the wrong order.
I couldn''t piece them together. Why was June in Oslo? Why with Saul? What was this intense anger that drummed against my chest as I thought of Rhys''s father, and the hopelessness when I thought of his son? Why was my sister gone again . ? "It''s hard to piece things together after dying." Natalya placed a hand atop her dark brown hair, cut closely to her head. "Memories fall to pieces, events become blurred. All this time you came to speak with me, wanting to know everything I knew, but I could only give you what I could muster in this state. Pieces and reflections. It''ll become more difficult for you too soon.
Perhaps you should let them go. Let it all go." Natalya, the strongest Effigy in history, worshipped by all during her tenure. Worshipped by me too, until she began scheming to take my body. But now there was no body for her to take. "Let it go?" I repeated. "That''s funny, coming from you. You didn''t let it go.
" Natalya considered the golden hilt in her hand. "That was my decision to make. Now you have yours." A gentle breeze grazed my cheek as I saw the red door behind me. A door. Mine. As magnificent as Natalya''s, with golden embroidery around the wooden edges. I guess each door was the "link" in the chain, then, opening itself into the subconscious and soul of the next girl in a path that stretched on for more than a century.
A bronze doorknob waiting for my hand. When my soul found the next girl, I would walk through and stand at my station. For eternity. The Seven-Year Rule. That old Sect joke. Effigies were considered legendary if they could last seven years on the job. Natalya was the baddest of them all, having survived twice that. What was my number? Three months.
What will be your number? Ironically, it was Belle who''d asked me, three months ago. Belle. The fear I''d usually reserved for Natalya gripped my chest in one exploding moment, an electric impulse that soon gave way to a silent, seething bitterness. Cold steel breaking through bone. Mind-numbing pain. That moment when your heart stops--so painful in the midst of sweet release. The water crashing against my body upon impact like a speeding truck barreling into me. I''d once stood outside a building for hours just hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
My idol. Now my murderer. Natalya was watching me curiously. Another idol. Another disappointment. Another enemy--well, no, not an enemy anymore. Now that I was dead, she no longer had reason to harm me, though the fear I''d learned at her hands wouldn''t let me trust her, wouldn''t let me feel completely in control. I stared at the door.
Ruby, like blood on a blade. My beautiful gravestone bought and paid for by the combined efforts of my so-called heroes. My heroes. I''d t.