27. Revelation
CHAPTER 27
Revelation
ALIA
Y ou have a nice male, Ran said in my mind.
I sagged against the side of the building, trying not to cry.
Hey, beaut. Are you ok?
I ’ m fine, sister. They didn ’ t harm me beyond the catching.
My knees weakened, even as I stared down at the book in my hand. This changed everything. Not only were we working off a false set of code, we were doing a disservice to all who had come before. To the sacrifices made of the Reds in the past generations.
We had lost all honor.
I needed to protect this book with my life. It was the only thing tying us to the old ways. The people needed to know.
A cheer rose from behind me.
I spun around the corner to find Grandma had returned. And she bore a leaf. It was gold-hued and striking. It changed, turning a bright red before browning. Then it greened up, unfurling. I had only seen such a thing from one place: the Isle of Galah, an island no one returned from. It was an isle where the seasons changed without warning and even the terrain could become desert one moment and mountainous the next. How did she get that? The Isle was too far to travel. She must have had it on hand to grab at a moment’s notice.
My shoulders dropped.
So that was what the change meant.
I took a deep, cleansing breath and emerged from the shadows of my hidden corner. If I had lost, then I had lost. I would face it with dignity.
“I return!” Grandma said.
The people stomped their feet and chanted, “ Magnum Reginea Victoria!”
I stopped beside my grandmother, holding my head high.
“You had no chance, child. But you will be commended for your bravery to face me, even unto death,” Grandma said.
The scroll zipped from Elder Pulma’s fingers. He stared at it with wide eyes, trying to grab it from the air. The scroll easily evaded him, flapping its paper wings like some abstract bird to come sniff the leaf in Grandma’s hand. It sneezed—not joking, the force threw it back about three feet—and then it came to me. It alighted on my tunic, its wings moving gently like a butterfly on a flower. I watched it as if it were a roach near my bed, tempted to shoo it off but unsure what that would make the thing do.
“What do you have there?” Elder Pulma asked.
“Nothing,” I said, leaning away from the scroll’s wings. No way was I handing over this book. I’d protect it with my life.
The flying scroll thingy detached some letters from the inside of its pages and used them to latch onto the book in my pocket. How something so light and tiny could hold something so weighty with mere ink was beyond me. I suppose it wasn’t mere ink. Based on what I’d found in the pages of the book, it was likely a magic scroll spelled by mages, just as I’d suspected.
How did Jacob find this? Why did he find it? And how did he know I’d need it?
It almost… could the book be the answer to the riddle and not the changing of seasons of the Isle of Galah?
The butterfly scroll slowly flapped its way to Pulma and the other elders, putting the book in Elder Pulma’s hands before alighting on a pedestal. Like a bird tucking its wings back in after flight, it slowly folded back into a regular scroll and went still.
Elder Pulma opened the book. His eyes grew wide. “W-Where did you find this?” he asked, his voice breaking like a boy going through puberty.
“Does it matter?” I asked.
Elder Pulma slowly shook his head. “No. No, it does not. The scroll has spoken. You—you are the winner of the first trial."
Everything stopped. My people, my grandma. Heck, it even felt like the woods themselves ceased rustling.
Grandma slowly turned. Her face was so expressionless it was a bit terrifying.
A bit? Ran said.
She was right. It was a lot terrifying.
"The second trial will be told by the sword. The life of the matriarch is rife with terrible decisions. Bring them forth."
Two enforcers brought out two beings. They sagged in the grip of their captors, their skin red and peeling. I sucked in a breath. Nymphs. The one on the right raised his eyes. A part of me sagged. They were not the nymphs I had met, but it was terrible to see the two, who looked like nothing more than children, brought before us, shackled and tortured. My heart ached at their need for water, for freedom, and for family.
Elder Pulma's eyebrows creased. “At times, there will be moments for mercy. Other times, one must be willing to sacrifice what one wants most for the good of the tribe. Before you is a choice. The nymph is the only magical creature who is not our enemy. They are conduits of Source. But in order for the Rite to conclude, a life must be given. Something must die. Either that which you cherish most, or this innocent creature. One will go free, and one will die."
A blade tore through the chest of the second nymph. My cry caught in my throat as she gurgled a gasp of pain. She toppled forward. I caught her.
Her gasping breaths tore through me. She looked up, her eyes rimmed with moisture and her cries of pain resonating with something deep within me. In her, I saw myself. Fighting, ever fighting. Ever breaking. Ever failing.
I pushed her thick, ropy strands of hair away from her forehead.
Her need eased to the gentle want to not be alone as she crossed. I gave her a gentle smile. "You will be safe, little one. Go ahead, Source is waiting," I whispered.
A keening cry tore from the male nymph, who fruitlessly fought his bonds, the chains clacking as he struggled. His pain-filled cry filled the air, a raw, aching sound that tore between the bonds of soul and heart and left one broken within.
Her gasps lessened, and with a final sigh, the life left her eyes.
"Grandchild, are you certain you have the strength to be matriarch? These hard decisions must be made for the good of the tribe. I will not sacrifice one of my own, even for the life of an innocent creature. I can endure the hard decisions. I fear you cannot," Grandmother said, her voice musing.
Grumbles followed. I glanced around, seeing many nod at her words. They agreed. With death. No matter what the elder had said about the nymph’s innocence... This was a magical creature, so in their eyes, she deserved death.
"Hard decisions must be made as a leader, but innocent lives are never to be chosen in cold blood," I said.
I glanced over at Ran. Shen was beside her, both of them watching me with a knowing gaze. To move forward, I had to choose. I had to kill that which I loved most or this innocent nymph before me.
And I knew what I loved most.
I bowed my head. I stood and walked to the nymph. He had fallen to his knees, and his eyes were devoid of emotion when he stared up at me.
"Make... quick," came his raspy voice.
My soul trembled. I brought up my blade. His eyes closed and his head bowed. But I stepped behind him, breaking the chains binding him.
"I will not kill an innocent," I hissed at Elder Pulma, my eyes narrowed into slits.
"Something must die," he whispered, his eyes sad but knowing.
"Kill me, Alia," said a voice behind me. I turned to find Shen staring at me, his dark eyes rimmed with gold. His lips twitched in a sad smile. "It would be a fitting end."
I shook my head, denial setting in. I couldn't kill an innocent. Neither could I kill those I love.
What I love most.
Wait. The wording was off. I glanced over at Elder Pulma. His words originally said were what one wants most and then it was what one cherished most.
The words spiraled in my head. I glanced over at my family. Something had to die.
"I give up,” I said. I fell to my knees, the sand crunching beneath me. This was right. It burned as if I were stripping my heart from my bones, but it felt right. Now to see if I could leave my tribe better even if I could not lead. "I surrender my right to lead. I choose First Brandt to lead in my stead." He would do well. And he could defeat my grandma.
In those words, my dreams shriveled and died. What I had sacrificed, bled, and nearly died for over and over was gone. Dead. My hopes for the future, my love for my people. In those words, I had killed it.
What I wanted most was dead.
A tear tickled its way down my nose to fall to the sand beneath my knees to create a tiny gray bead in the otherwise white sand.
Slow clapping made my head jerk up. Elder Pulma looked at me with something of a mixture of respect and a bit of sorrow in his eyes.
"Well done, Alia. You have passed the second and final trial. A true leader will sacrifice what they love most for the good of their people, and you have shown not only quick thinking in the face of danger, but wisdom in laying down what you desire for the betterment of those around you."
Silence descended on the people.
Until Grandma stepped forward, her face an icy sheet of calm.
Please don’t…
“I challenge the Rite,” she said, her voice clear and ringing with authority.
I nodded, even though I wanted to wince.
It’s frowned upon to not receive the Rite’s diction with humble gratitude, whether in loss or in victory. But it’s not out of turn to question the Rite—it favors the bold, after all. Which is where my great-great-great-great-grandpa had lost his life to his father.
History would not repeat itself. Not this time.
"Please take him to the closest body of water and let him go," I told Enforcer Markus. He nodded his head in a near bow, assisting the dumbfounded nymph to his feet and escorting him to the woods. The nymph gathered the body of his companion and followed Markus from the field of death.
I turned back to my grandma while wiping the sand from my trousers and watching her with narrowed eyes. The nymph's blood stained my hands and my soul.
No one else would die this day.
Grandma drew her dagger. I drew my twin blades.
We circled. The sand crunched beneath my feet, rain having not come for a time making it less malleable. The air was a cool breeze freezing the sweat beading at my brow. My heartbeat eased as I focused on the many sensations around me and relaxed my grip on my blades.
She feigned left, coming in with a back sweep of her blade from the right. I caught her blade in a V made of my blades and shoved her back.
She favored her left side. It was an old hunting accident, or so we were told.
I feigned left, right, then kicked her chest, making her stumble.
She glanced up. “My turn,” she said.
Her blades were fast. I had never seen her move with this kind of speed. It was bordering on supernatural. I blocked a feint, got hit in the shin with a low kick, and barely knocked her blade aside to miss her taking my arm. Instead, she put a deep gash into my bicep. My hand still clutched my blade, but it was weak.
Grandma didn’t let up. I backpedaled as she drove forward, her blade seeking blood. I leaned back, her blade inches from my neck. Sharp pain rose from my chin as her blade clipped it.
She kicked out, catching me in the ribs. She elbowed me in the back of the neck, sending me to the ground.
She paused. There was always a moment where Grandma enjoyed letting her prey know they were about to die. It was no different for the granddaughter who betrayed her.
Shen growled. I barely saw him from the corner of my eye, his eyes completely red as he bared his slightly longer fangs.
“Trust me,” I whispered, even as I stared up at my grandma.
I hoped that kept him from dealing his own death by shifting.
I rolled into Grandma’s legs to send her off balance, blocking her blade as it came for my head. The blade stopped inches from my nose with the sharp zing of metal on metal. I could count the individual divots where a practiced hand had sharpened the blade until it could slice bone.
My other hand came up and grabbed her sword arm, trapping it. With a scissor kick, I knocked her in the temple hard enough for her to see stars and then placed my blade against her neck. Grandma froze at the feel of cold metal on her skin.
She glared down at me, her chest barely moving even though I was heaving, my lungs feeling as if there were bricks sitting on them.
“Aurelia of the lineage Conscientia from father Liam and mother Annikia has won,” Elder Pulma said, his voice hesitant and nearly disappointed.
Grandma stepped back. I stood, watching her carefully even as I followed her with the blade. A hint of blood dribbled from around the blade as I had leaned too far into it. Her face was blank, but it was also pale. And there was something in her eyes, hinting that this was not over.
“Are you really going to kill your grandmother, Aurelia?” she asked, disappointment making her frown lines stand out. “You have done enough by taking my heirship by force. Are you really going to kill me now after all I have done for you?”
I pulled back my blade. “No. You’re going to watch change unfold. And then you’ll either live in freedom or die a prisoner. It’ll be your choice.”
She stared at me, her lips pursed in displeasure.
The zing of an arrow met my ear.
Something large and white shoved me aside.
“So help me, Shen, if you have another arrow in your back—” I rolled and came to my feet, but it wasn’t Shen who stood there.
Ran’s beautiful eyes stared at me as she nuzzled my face. I froze. “Ran?” I exclaimed.
Her legs trembled.
I caught her head as she fell, barely avoiding being stabbed by her pearlescent horn. I laid her head on my lap, stroking her cheek. “Hey. Hey now,” I whispered.
I looked over her body and saw the fletching sticking from her side.
“No. No .” My breath came in short gasps as hers slowed. Her eyes never left mine until they closed from pain.
Shen fell to his knees beside her. He touched the arrow, causing her to shiver as pain wracked her body. I implored him with my eyes to not say what I suspected.
“Silver and iron,” Shen said, his voice soft and face twisted with helplessness.
We both knew what iron does to fae creatures.
“ No . It can’t—I won’t lose you, sis,” I whimpered.
She blinked open eyes so filled with love it was hard to see the pain in their depths.
Sister, it was always you who was meant to find me. Don ’ t worry now, we’ll meet again, either in this life or the next. It is of no consequence. We’re bonded, heart and soul, and nothing can render us apart—not even… death.
“No, you can’t. You hear me? I need you. Now more than ever.” I gently stroked her cheek even as my chest felt as if it would implode. I clung to her head as if I could hold her here by the force of my will.
She nickered slightly, the sound hoarse. You never needed me, Alia. It was I… who always needed… you. My name, sister of my heart and wind in my wings, is Elysia.
"I don't want your name, idiot. I want you," I whispered, hugging her close. Her need was not sharp against me. If anything, it was relieved . And I didn’t know why. Was her life here more painful than I’d been aware of?
Her eyes, so full of love, lost their life. No longer was there a soul within her. No longer was there love, pain, or joy or sass. My bond, my sister, my best friend was no more.