Chapter 71: Chapter 71: Zaphira Power

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Chapter 71: Zaphira Power

The funeral was to be held that evening, at sunset.

In the Land Without a Name, talk of it had begun at first light, and every conversation centered on the same problem an issue no one had considered until then. The inhabitants of the kingdom’s four cities had ample time to reach the Black Tower on foot. For the villages scattered along the borders at the foot of the Dareth Ridge and beyond the distance posed a very different obstacle: no wagon, not even one drawn by the swiftest steeds, could make the journey before sunset.

That was why, in the hours between the Emperor’s death and the following morning, the Vanhai had accomplished an unprecedented feat. Harnessing their powers and the most ancient forms of magic, they had constructed massive vessels capable of rising from the ground and traversing the skies, carrying thousands of people; they dispatched them from village to village across the Land Without a Name, without imposing set fares after all, most inhabitants could not have afforded the cost of the journey anyway. The kingdom had never needed such vessels before, nor would it ever need them again; they were created for a single journey and a single funeral, and after that day, no one would ever pilot them again. Precisely for this reason, the journey was not free. Building a vessel intended for just one day of use entailed an expense far beyond the means of any single village, and the cost of a seat on board exceeded the lifetime earnings of most families let alone what they might earn in a single morning.

As news of the vessel’s arrival spread from house to house, many began counting their savings, ready to spend their very last coin rather than miss the ceremony. In Zaphira’s home, however, there was precious little to count. She and her mother lived off the land, and the sum required exceeded what they earned together in months of working the fields.

Her mother piled the few coins on the table, arranged them in neat rows, gathered them up, and set them out again. The total remained the same.

“It isn’t enough,” she said at last. “Not even if we sold everything we own.”

“Then nothing,” Zaphira said. Her voice sounded flat, devoid of any protest, and she walked out into the courtyard without another word.

Her mother remained at the table, the coins still scattered before her. When she was certain no one was watching, she let go of the composure she had maintained until then and sat in silence, staring at the wooden tabletop.

By mid-morning, the sky above the village grew darker and not because of clouds. The ship descended slowly a shadow vast enough to cover the rooftops before it even touched the ground and settled on the plain beyond the cultivated fields, far from the houses, in a spot where nothing had ever been planted.

The hull was a colossal construct of black wood that remained pristine without a scratch or a splinter wide and deep, with curved, seamless sides and neither keel nor sharp prow. There were no masts, sails, or oars; beneath the vessel, only a shimmering vibration of hot air rippled across the entire surface. Four pillars of the same black wood rose from the center of the deck; Attached to each was a black flag bearing a red symbol: two tapered strokes one straight and one diagonal that crossed, narrowing at the ends into sharp points. Steering the vessel were the Vanhai, the only ones capable of singing in unison the chant that kept the ships suspended in mid-air a melody no demon had ever managed to master, despite centuries of attempts. During the flight, the gems they wore in place of hair would light up with a unique, uniform glow a radiance that swept from one side of the vessel to the other.

The entire village had come out to watch. The youngest children hid behind their parents’ legs at the first deep rumble from above, only to peek out once they realized the ship wasn’t going to crash down on them. Some adults removed their hats, almost without realizing it.

It was a ship built for thousands of passengers, yet only five villagers boarded it the only ones who had managed to scrape together the fare for the journey. Those left behind on the plain waved goodbye, a mixture of envy and silent relief in their hearts. Zaphira watched the group ascend the ramp, her mother by her side; for a moment, she stood motionless, resigned to her place among those remaining on the ground.

Then, while all eyes were fixed on the five passengers, she slipped away from her mother without a word and headed toward the side of the ship, where the hull cast its deepest shadow. She possessed a gift she had never spoken of.

For a few moments, Zaphira could let herself be swallowed by the shadows, becoming invisible to anyone who looked her straight in the eye. She used this power to slip along the hull, cling to a ledge beside the cargo hatch, and hoist herself aboard just as the Vanhai crew was sealing it shut.

Through the narrowing gap, her eyes met those of a Vanhai guard; the purple gems in his hair glowed faintly. Zaphira held her breath, bracing herself to be discovered and sent back to the ground. But the hatch closed completely, and no alarm sounded.

Moments later, the ship took flight slowly at first, then accelerating as the village below shrank until it vanished from sight. Above her, four black flags snapped taut in the wind; the red symbol emblazoned on them expanded and contracted with every gust. Zaphira remained hidden among the crates stacked at the base of the masts, her heart pounding in her throat, until she was certain no one had noticed her. The Vanhai chant rose from the deck a singular voice composed of many, low and steady making the crates vibrate against her back. It was the ship’s maiden voyage, and it would be its last. The sun was still low. The Vanhai brooked no delays: before sunset, the Black Tower would loom before her, just in time for the evening funeral.

In a few hours, she would see Kairan again, Zaphira thought.

It did not matter that it was for a funeral, nor that an entire grieving city was waiting for him. The only thing that mattered was that she would see him again; it was the first time in days her heart was pounding for a reason other than fear.

Down on the dock, her mother scanned the crowd as soon as the ship began to pull away, but she couldn’t find her anywhere. She couldn’t have said whether the knot tightening in her chest was fear for her missing daughter or a subtle envy for a kind of courage she herself had never been allowed to experience at that age.