Kastori Restorations (The Kastori Chronicles Book 4) by Stephen Allan Page B
Authors: Stephen Allan
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embraced once more.
“Besides, Crystil is now in charge of this mission.”
“Her?” Cyrus said in mock disbelief, drawing a laugh from his father.
Cyrus and Celeste quickly ran into an equipment room, where someone had left them the clothing they would need for Vostoka and their swords. When Cyrus equipped the three layers of clothing and goggles over his eyes, he felt he left no skin exposed and was already starting to sweat in the mild temperatures of Monda.
Cyrus looked at his sister, who motioned for him to join her at the front of the warehouse, where they would teleport. He took one last glance at his father and Crystil. The former had the look of someone who knew his children would return. The latter had the eyes of…
A romantic fire.
“Let’s do it,” Cyrus said before he could reconsider his decision to move.
He closed his eyes and felt the teleportation feeling embrace his body.
After a few seconds, even with the thick layers of clothing on, Cyrus thought he would indeed freeze to death.
11
When Crystil saw Cyrus vanish, her gut twisted. She knew he’d come back. But one day, he won’t. He’ll do something just a bit outside the lines…
Hopefully, Celeste will keep him in line.
“Crystil!”
The loud shout of Garrus shook the commander out of her emotional funk. She turned to the soldier, who had with him a young boy, probably no older than sixteen. Garrus had the boy tightly in his grip, with an annoyed expression on both of their faces.
“This boy here tried to take out some long-held anger on our Kastori,” he said. “What do you recommend we do as punishment?”
I should’ve known this would happen. We can’t all just forget about the past. It’s too hard.
“Crystil,” the Emperor said. “If I may. I suspect this boy is not the only one who harbors strong feelings toward the Kastori. Hearing words from you may help tensions.”
Crystil turned back to the boy, who had his head down but anger written all over it.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
The boy did not respond, instead appearing to pout weakly. Crystil’s anger initially flared up, but she reminded herself to stay calm and not let her emotions get the best of herself.
“May I please have your name?” she said, trying to eliminate all traces of impatience in her voice.
“Aedan,” he said.
“Aedan, why did you go after the Kastori?”
“Because the magicologists killed my parents!” he shouted, the words seeming to echo around the room.
Crystil breathed slowly as she tried to dispel her anger. She had to remind herself that she, too, had lost loved ones to the enemy. She, too, had hated the Kastori for a long time, and still referred to Typhos as a magicologist.
But she had eventually turned that hatred into understanding.
She looked at Garrus and at the Emperor.
“Gather everyone in front of the warehouse. All Kastori, all humans. I need to address everyone before we move forward. Take them off work. We can afford ten minutes of inactivity to make sure more strife doesn’t happen. Aedan, stay with me.”
Garrus released the boy to Crystil. The soldier, the Emperor, and the commander all went different directions, calling out to different sections of the warehouse to convene at the front. While doing so, she carried on her conversation with Aedan.
“What happened to your parents?”
“They were in their shed when it got burned down by an angry magicologist,” he said, his voice quiet but full of vitriol.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Crystil said, though the boy gave no response. “I, too, lost loved ones. My husband died at the hands of the magicologists.”
For the first time since she had taken him, the boy looked into her eyes. She saw eyes that looked on the verge of tears, and they brought back her own strong emotions.
“But the thing to understand, Aedan, is that just because someone can cast a spell, it doesn’t make them a magicologist. A Kastori is our
“Besides, Crystil is now in charge of this mission.”
“Her?” Cyrus said in mock disbelief, drawing a laugh from his father.
Cyrus and Celeste quickly ran into an equipment room, where someone had left them the clothing they would need for Vostoka and their swords. When Cyrus equipped the three layers of clothing and goggles over his eyes, he felt he left no skin exposed and was already starting to sweat in the mild temperatures of Monda.
Cyrus looked at his sister, who motioned for him to join her at the front of the warehouse, where they would teleport. He took one last glance at his father and Crystil. The former had the look of someone who knew his children would return. The latter had the eyes of…
A romantic fire.
“Let’s do it,” Cyrus said before he could reconsider his decision to move.
He closed his eyes and felt the teleportation feeling embrace his body.
After a few seconds, even with the thick layers of clothing on, Cyrus thought he would indeed freeze to death.
11
When Crystil saw Cyrus vanish, her gut twisted. She knew he’d come back. But one day, he won’t. He’ll do something just a bit outside the lines…
Hopefully, Celeste will keep him in line.
“Crystil!”
The loud shout of Garrus shook the commander out of her emotional funk. She turned to the soldier, who had with him a young boy, probably no older than sixteen. Garrus had the boy tightly in his grip, with an annoyed expression on both of their faces.
“This boy here tried to take out some long-held anger on our Kastori,” he said. “What do you recommend we do as punishment?”
I should’ve known this would happen. We can’t all just forget about the past. It’s too hard.
“Crystil,” the Emperor said. “If I may. I suspect this boy is not the only one who harbors strong feelings toward the Kastori. Hearing words from you may help tensions.”
Crystil turned back to the boy, who had his head down but anger written all over it.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
The boy did not respond, instead appearing to pout weakly. Crystil’s anger initially flared up, but she reminded herself to stay calm and not let her emotions get the best of herself.
“May I please have your name?” she said, trying to eliminate all traces of impatience in her voice.
“Aedan,” he said.
“Aedan, why did you go after the Kastori?”
“Because the magicologists killed my parents!” he shouted, the words seeming to echo around the room.
Crystil breathed slowly as she tried to dispel her anger. She had to remind herself that she, too, had lost loved ones to the enemy. She, too, had hated the Kastori for a long time, and still referred to Typhos as a magicologist.
But she had eventually turned that hatred into understanding.
She looked at Garrus and at the Emperor.
“Gather everyone in front of the warehouse. All Kastori, all humans. I need to address everyone before we move forward. Take them off work. We can afford ten minutes of inactivity to make sure more strife doesn’t happen. Aedan, stay with me.”
Garrus released the boy to Crystil. The soldier, the Emperor, and the commander all went different directions, calling out to different sections of the warehouse to convene at the front. While doing so, she carried on her conversation with Aedan.
“What happened to your parents?”
“They were in their shed when it got burned down by an angry magicologist,” he said, his voice quiet but full of vitriol.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Crystil said, though the boy gave no response. “I, too, lost loved ones. My husband died at the hands of the magicologists.”
For the first time since she had taken him, the boy looked into her eyes. She saw eyes that looked on the verge of tears, and they brought back her own strong emotions.
“But the thing to understand, Aedan, is that just because someone can cast a spell, it doesn’t make them a magicologist. A Kastori is our
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