Chapter 40 Rhea
Rhea
The light swallows me. No. That's not it. I become the light. Or more exactly part of it. Unable to resist, I spiral through brilliance that has no edge, no center. It blinds, devours, pulls me apart bit by bit until I'm scattered across endlessness.
Within the shattering light, I feel him. Zephyros. He didn't abandon me after all. I just couldn't sense him because there was something far stronger than me demanding his attention. His consciousness floods mine, familiar and powerful, wrapping around my scattered essence like protective wings.
—We are one, little one. Have been since we bonded.
His thoughts flow into mine, weaving through me like wind through mountain cracks. The bond between us strengthens, not just reconnecting but transforming into something greater, more profound than before.
—I will never leave you, he promises.
His unconditional love surrounds me, steadies me in this sea of brilliance.
The dragoness's consciousness joins ours. Her presence feels like standing in the middle of a boundless ocean beyond comprehension. Yet she welcomes me with unexpected gentleness.
—You see now, child of wind. You understand.
I do. Centuries of memories flood through me. The full, terrible truth. The Woken Wyrm betrayed dragonkind. Transformed her sisters into monstrosities, cursed them to endless cycles of death and rebirth, trapped in forms that would ensure humans hunted them for generations.
All to pose herself as the only goddess. The only queen.
I feel the dragoness's immense sorrow, her rage at centuries of suffering, but beneath it all—her unbreakable desire to protect dragonkind, to restore what was lost.
—Together, we can end this, she whispers through the light. You and your mate. My beloved Zephyros and I. The four corners of the Omneira.
The truth settles inside me like a blade finding its sheath.
Though it's not only the memories I receive.
There's also a healing wave that ripples through the fractured pathways of my consciousness, methodically repairing all the damage Cindergrasp and Tahr perpetrated on my mind.
The relief is staggering. Like stepping from a darkened room into sunlight after years of blindness.
Every jagged edge they carved into my thoughts smooths over, and the constant low hum of wrongness that's haunted me without my notice since my Cleansing finally, blessedly, goes silent.
Then Vaylen's there. Not his body. His essence, his soul, whatever piece of him burns brightest. We collide like storm fronts meeting over open water.
Every wall I built crumbles. Every secret I hoarded spills free. Like me, he sees it all—the year with Tahr, the dragon eggs, the Woken Wyrm's stirring. The memories Tahr twisted. The ones I fought to reclaim but lost. Dragon's breath, there are so many, not only the few I thought I'd discovered.
I watch my own memories unravel before us—layer after layer peeling back like the skins of an onion, revealing Tahr's handiwork. His manipulation wasn't just occasional tweaks as I'd thought. It was constant, relentless craftsmanship.
Every evening meal. Every gentle touch on my shoulder. Every gaze met. Every time he stood too close. They were just opportunities to reshape, redirect, refine his control.
The scope of his deception steals my breath. My efforts with dreamscaping were pitiful compared to the masterpiece of deceit he created in my mind. I never stood a chance. I was a child playing with sticks while he wielded a maestro's baton.
Most of all, I relive the agony of watching Vaylen's face harden with hate while my heart screamed the truth I was manipulated never to speak.
And I see him—the High Prime who carries Embernia on his shoulders, the man who gave me everything and watched me walk away—and discover he saw himself as an orphan boy who didn't deserve love.
Our pain braids together, indistinguishable.
—Oh, Rhealyn. Please forgive me. Please tell me you'll have me again. I love you and will love you for the rest of my life.
The words echo through the light, mine and his, impossible to separate, and joy floods every particle of my scattered being. His heart becomes whole again. He asks forgiveness, which means he's given it. And he loves me. Loves me.
I surge toward him, embrace him with everything I am. Every broken piece and regret, every desperate hope that got buried beneath deception. Our essences merge, become something beyond two separate souls.
The brilliance explodes outward, growing impossible bigger. Fully alive. It pulses with our combined heartbeat, grows brighter with each breath we share in this impossible space.
—Vaylen. His name is a prayer, a promise, a vow I'll never break again.
The dragoness's voice rumbles through us both. —We are Omneira. Four souls, one purpose.
Below, somewhere in the world we left behind, our bodies still stand in the wasteland. But here, we're whole.
—We're one again, little one, Zephyros says.
And it's true. I feel the bond, except it isn't really a bond like before. More like a pool where we are the water. One essence. All four of us connected in every possible way.
Vaylen's heartbeat becomes mine. Zephyros's ancient memories flow through my consciousness.
The dragoness's strength roots itself in my bones.
I can't tell where I end and they begin.
Don't want to. This is what we were meant to be.
Not four separate pieces struggling against fate, but something unified and unbreakable meant to make everything right.
The light pulses, carrying us toward something inevitable.
Wind roars through me, sharper than any gale I've summoned before. Enormous power thrums in our shared essence, then the other elements flood in.
Fire ignites in my veins. Cool water crashes through my consciousness, relentless as ocean tides. Earth grounds me, solid and unshakeable. Metal sings in my bones with a sharp edge. Fierce lightning crackles across my scattered form.
And underneath it all, woven through every element—the Weaver power, magnified beyond comprehension. I could shield many minds at once. Protect them, heal them, guard their thoughts from any intrusion.
The elements don't fight for dominance. They dance together, each one amplifying the others until I'm blazing with possibility.
—This is what we are, the dragoness says. Complete.
Vaylen's wonder mirrors mine, echoing through the light, but Zephyros's grounds me, keeping the power and the knowledge of what I could do with it from consuming me whole.
I'm no longer just a Skysinger. Not just a Weaver.
We're everything.
In the center of it all, there's more. Shadows coiled beneath the brilliance, knowledge the dragoness keeps locked away.
—Not yet, she tells us. You've endured enough. Rest. Be ready.
The warning shivers through me.
—We will leave before they find us, she assures. We bide our time until our sisters transform. We plan and avoid a war if possible.
We all agree. It is wise. War only yields suffering.
The light releases me.
I gasp, stumbling as reality snaps back into focus.
My knees buckle. The ground rushes up too fast, but Vaylen catches me before I hit.
His hands burn against my arms, grounding me.
My body feels wrong. Too small and solid after being infinite.
The elements still hum beneath my skin, but muted now, contained in flesh and bone that can't possibly hold what I just was.
Except it does. My mind shifts, adjusts, folds the power into corners I didn't know existed. Afterward, my body feels strong as if I've rested for weeks. The pressure eases breath by breath until I fit inside myself again.
Mostly.
Vaylen sways beside me, jaw clenched as he works through the same disorientation. His fingers tighten on my arms, then loosen as he steadies. The moment he clicks back into place registers across his face. He lets out a subtle exhale, shoulders dropping half an inch.
We stare at each other.
His eyes search mine with impossible familiarity. He knows everything. Every mistake, every lie, every desperate moment I tried to claw my way back to him. The shame of it crawls up my neck, heats my cheeks.
I know his secrets too, but somehow facing him now feels different.
Human vulnerability replaces divine understanding with each passing heartbeat. The god-thing we were together recedes like morning mist, leaving just me. Just Rhea.
Standing before the man who forgave me and loves me.
Heat bright on my cheeks, I drop my gaze.
"Despite knowing everything about you," he says, placing a finger under my chin and lifting my face. "I never would've thought you could be shy."
The shyness lasts exactly three seconds before heat of an entirely different kind ignites between us.
Vaylen's mouth crashes into mine with bruising force. I arch into him, hands fisting in his jacket, yanking him closer. The kiss tastes of desperation and forgiveness and every day we spent apart.
He breaks away just long enough to drag me toward the tent.
I stumble over his boots, over my own feet, not caring about grace or dignity.
He stops by the tent's entrance, teeth scraping down my throat.
His hands slip beneath my top, calloused palms burning trails up my ribs.
He maneuvers us into the tent, momentum carrying us past the entrance flap until we're surrounded by dim canvas walls and the scent of leather and wind-worn fabric.
I yank at his fastenings, fingers clumsy with need. He helps, shoving leather aside with single-minded focus. The tent's too small, the ground too hard, and I don't care about any of it.