Chapter Forty-Six #3
‘Men are the seeds planted in the earth, nurtured by its conditions, blooming where it is habitable,’ the emperor begins.
‘The Virtuae Gods are the thunderclouds, sending the rain of the Virtuae Relic to allow these seeds to flourish and grow like never before. Some seeds, however, were not meant to take in so much enhancement, and would never stop growing, never stop thirsting for the rain pooling in the soil.’
‘Weeds,’ I say, feeling dumbed by the outward thought, blurting out the basic premise of what the emperor is implying.
‘You are correct, in a way. The only way to stop those abominations from corrupting the earth is to take away the rain for all. A drought of power.’
My throat dries, my eyes wide as I stare a hole into the side of the emperor’s head, his gaze still on the hearth. ‘You do not mean what I think you mean. That is out of the question.’
The very thought of it. That we would ever do such a thing. It would be going against everything we’ve set out to achieve, only in the hopes that things might one day get better. Might being the operative word here.
‘The only way to restore the natural order on the Isle is to destroy the Relic.’
I get to my feet, appalled, gripping to the back of the armchair as I use it to keep me upright. The tears are hot, as they well in my eyes.
‘And kill off anyone who remains untouched from the affliction? I came here for help in stopping the affliction. Not for step-by-step instructions on how to inflict it upon every single citizen of Reyhen.’
He finally turns his head my way. Eyes blanketed in something dark, something sorrowful despite the hopeful words that come after. ‘You will make good of it. You seem certain of the Umbrian king’s healing abilities. It is the only way.’
‘Even if we did consider that an option – which as of right now, we do not – how would we even go about such a thing? The Relic is infused with a piece of all seven of the Virtuae Gods, and I think I would be safe to infer that it would take the power of all seven gods to destroy it.’
‘You need not think so big, Eira. The Relic may be destroyed by that which matches its power. Something made from it, perhaps, imbued by its very magic.’
The flames in the fire glint in my eye like that gold that licks its way across Eliaz’s neck like a pointed tongue over teeth.
‘Sirnet,’ I think aloud. ‘My father was so smug that he happened to be the only one with a weapon forged by the Virtuae Relic. All this time he was the only one in possession of something capable of truly damaging it. It makes sense considering he saw himself as its protector.’
Raffan sighs. ‘It is ironic that he has brought about its downfall. Some poor excuse for a guardian he was. Even poorer excuse of a man.’
The room begins to spin around my head, and I dig my fingers further into the pelt that drapes the back rest of the chair. My mouth is dry and yet at the same time slicked with that acidic spittle that threatens the emergence of vomit.
‘I must speak with Eliaz. This seems... wrong. Forgive me but I must go to him.’ I turn for the door, stumbling over my own feet, the room tilting around me.
‘You know in your heart what is right, Eira. You are a woman of a great deal more cleverness and intuition than you currently credit yourself with.’
His words stop me in my tracks just before my fingertips meet the shining metal of the door handle. Just as I turn my head to him, my gaze snags on something to my left, atop the pile of books strewn by the doorframe.
A red leather book, stained with what appears to be the rim of a glass, seemingly used as a coaster rather than a source of literary pass time.
It is the colour that catches my attention, but it is the absence of lettering on its spine that ensnares it fully.
Vines twisting and tightening on my vision like the rope on the book of Neyktar as I pick it up.
Emperor Raffan watches with quiet curiosity as I part the book in search of the confirmation that it is what I think it is.
And there it is. That vase. The words swirling above it in the common tongue.
The Virtuae Relic.
‘You have not read it?’ The emperor appears by my side, peering over the pages as I do. ‘I would have thought it most pertinent that the future queen of Reyhen would have memorised that thing cover to cover. I am ashamed to admit I had misplaced it, I do have so many red books.’
I shake my head. ‘I have not—’
‘Take it, Eira. I know all I need to. Consider it a parting gift.’
I force myself to smile at him so that he does not think me ungrateful, bringing the book up to my chest. ‘Thank you, Emperor Raffan.’
‘It is all my pleasure.’ He returns the smile, his face a much more pleasant sight because of it. I keep my gaze on his as my free hand finds the doorknob, hit with a sudden reluctance to look away from the man.
‘Please pass on my regards to your mother, Eira.’ His eyes brim with the salted tears of memory. ‘I hope our paths cross again.’
And I cannot tell exactly who he refers to.