Chapter 47 Rhea
Rhea
Irun toward the center of what's now a beautiful meadow, driven by urgency I don't fully understand.
My heart hammers against my ribs, in anticipation of what we will find.
Yet, the emptiness inside me echoes with grief.
That enormous tetrad bond that made us Omneira is gone.
I keep reaching for Vaylen in that same knowing way, instinctively trying to touch his mind, but it's like grasping at smoke.
The loss aches, but I understand. Some powers aren't meant to remain forever. I'm grateful I still have Zephyros, his presence a comforting hum in the back of my mind.
Above us, his silver scales flash in the sunlight. My dragon follows. Whatever we're running toward, we'll face it together.
We slow our pace, breathing in unison though we can no longer feel each other's thoughts as before. Something in the air changes, grows still and reverent around us. Vaylen's hand finds mine, squeezing tight.
In the center of the meadow, nestled in a perfect circle of wildflowers, tiny arms wave happily toward the sky.
"Vaylen," I whisper, my voice catching.
We approach carefully, not daring to disturb whatever magic has created this moment. When we finally stand over the small form, I drop to my knees in wordless awe.
A baby.
Perfect and naked and utterly fearless in this newly born world.
She seems to be about six months old and well fed.
She has jet black silky curls that stir in the breeze.
Her skin glows like spring honey in the dappled sunlight.
When she turns to look at us, I gasp. Her large eyes are the deepest black, ringed with opalescent rainbows that shift and sparkle like living jewels.
A butterfly with sapphire wings lands delicately on her tiny toes. She giggles, the sound pure and bell-like, echoing across the meadow with such innocent joy it brings tears to my eyes.
"Life," Vaylen breathes beside me. "After all that death, Heratrix left us life."
Tears spill down my face as I stare at this miracle before us. I can't fathom the depth of Heratrix's love, the ultimate sacrifice she made to deliver this child, to give her daughter another chance at life.
"Is she... Vestra? Or Heratrix?" Vaylen asks softly, kneeling beside me.
I reach out with trembling fingers to touch the baby's cheek. She turns into my palm, those rainbow-ringed eyes blinking up at me with wisdom and newborn innocence impossibly combined.
"I think she's Vestra," I murmur, "but with the best parts of her mother woven within her. A second chance to become what she was always meant to be." I shake my head. "But I'm not sure we can ever truly know."
"Maybe we aren't meant to," Vaylen says. He strips off his jacket and passes it to me. The material is warm from his body as I carefully wrap it around the tiny form.
The baby gurgles, reaching for the sun with perfect, tiny fingers.
The sound of approaching steps fills the air. I look up to see the others—Dakar, Phoebe, Nate, Adelaide, Braylen, Cliffbecker, Commander Voltguard—forming a wide circle around us, their expressions shaped by utter astonishment.
Braylen takes a step forward, his brow wrinkled with confusion. "Is that... is that the Goddess?" His voice trembles with hesitation, fingers twitching at his sides.
Something protective and fierce ignites in my chest. I snap the jacket closed around the baby, wrapping her tightly against me. Rising to my feet in one fluid motion, I clutch her to my chest, her warmth against my chest.
"No! She's not the Goddess," I snap, my voice sharp enough to cut. "She's a baby. Just a baby who deserves to grow up without such expectations."
The baby curls her tiny fingers against my collarbone, trusting and perfect. Something in me shifts, becomes utterly immovable.
"Anyone who says otherwise," I continue, steel threading through every word, "will have to contend with me."
Vaylen steps beside me, his shoulder touching mine. The sensation grounds me, reminds me I'm not alone. His voice matches my resolve when he speaks.
"And with me," he adds, his presence solid and unyielding next to mine. "This child's destiny belongs to her alone."
Silence stretches across the meadow. The baby makes a soft cooing sound against my neck, oblivious to the power struggle her very existence might create.
Dakar steps forward, his face shifting from shock to that familiar stubborn determination.
"And with me," he growls, his messy topknot bobbing as he nods firmly.
Phoebe's small form appears at his side, green eyes shining with fierce protectiveness. "Count me in too."
Nate joins them, crossing massive arms over his barrel chest. "Anyone who tries anything will answer to all of us."
Relief floods through me like warm sunlight. I'm not alone. Never again. The weight against my chest feels suddenly lighter, her future safer with each person who steps forward.
One by one, the others nod their agreement. One of Adelaide's silver-streaked locks fall forward as she bobs her head. Braylen assents awkwardly but wears a sincere smile, even Cliffbecker and Commander Voltguard join them.
"She will grow up loved," Vaylen murmurs beside me, his voice meant only for me.
Yet somewhere deep inside, that distrustful voice I've carried since watching my mother die whispers its warnings. The world takes what it wants. People change. Promises break. Even miracles come with a price. Especially miracles.
I try to push the fear away, focusing instead on the baby's perfect fingers against my skin, but the doubt lingers like smoke after a fire, impossible to grasp yet refusing to disperse.
A gentle pressure in my mind—a flicker of awareness that doesn't belong to Zephyros—makes me pause. It nudges me forward, urging me deeper into the meadow.
Vaylen's head snaps toward me, his brow furrowed in a sharp frown.
"Did you feel that?" I whisper, cradling the baby closer.
He nods, his ocean eyes flicking from the child in my arms to somewhere beyond the tall grasses.
A path I hadn't noticed before stretches ahead, winding through wildflowers toward the far edge of the meadow.
The direction will lead us straight toward the riders and dragons who fought against us, our enemies just moments ago.
My arms tighten instinctively around the baby. "We shouldn't," I say, even as my feet shift forward of their own accord.
Vaylen turns too. The others watch us with confusion, unable to sense what we feel. I take a tentative step toward the path, testing the feeling. The nudge grows more insistent, not forceful but compelling. The baby coos softly against my neck.
Zephyros's voice brushes my mind. —I feel it too, Rhealyn. His ancient thoughts sound awed. It comes from the child, Aurelia. She speaks without words.
"Aurelia?" I whisper, testing the name.
—Yes. That is her name. The one Heratrix gave her new daughter before she… left us, he says with reverence and love.
"Aurelia," I repeat to Vaylen, the syllables flowing like music. "That's her name. It's beautiful."
His fingers brush mine as we walk side by side, following the invisible tether Aurelia has cast.
"It's perfect," he murmurs, without questioning how I know.
I hold Aurelia close as we approach the clearing where the wounded Sky Order dragons and riders wait. My breath catches in my throat at the devastation before us, dragons with tattered wing membranes stretched uselessly across the grass.
My doing.
Relief washes through me that I can no longer unmake life with a thought. Some abilities shouldn't belong to anyone, especially someone like me, morally grey at best—though sometimes it's what is needed to make the hard decisions.
"Traitor!" Someone spits the word like venom as they notice me.
Robert Silverin spits venom. "You're a monster! Look at what you did!"
The accusations come faster now, building like a storm.
"Murderer!"
"Abomination!"
"She killed the Goddess's rider!"
My eyes find Phoebe at the edge of our group. Her gaze drops away from mine, fear flickering across her face before she looks at the ground. They're afraid of me, even Phoebe.
The hate in their eyes burns hot. I want to explain, to defend myself—Vestra was not the Goddess, I cushioned their fall, I didn't kill them when I could have—but the words stick in my throat.
I hold Aurelia tighter, her innocent warmth the only comfort in this sea of hatred.
Aurelia squirms against my chest, her body suddenly radiating heat like a tiny piece of coal. I loosen my grip, alarmed, but she doesn't seem distressed. Instead, she coos happily, those rainbow-ringed eyes fixed on something I can't see.
"Vaylen," I whisper, alarmed. "Something's happening."
Before he can respond, golden light pulses from Aurelia's skin, flowing outward like ripples in a pond. The first wave touches Robert Silverin, and he gasps, stumbling backward. I tense, ready to protect her, but then Robert's face transforms from hatred to wonder.
Down his elbows, translucent light gathers, solidifying into a golden outline. As we watch, flesh and bone materialize within the light, forming fingers, palms, wrists. Within moments, two perfectly formed arms extend where emptiness had been.
"My arms," Robert whispers, flexing his new fingers. "They're back." He stares at me then at Aurelia with tears streaming down his face, all hatred dissolved.
Golden light continues rippling outward, washing over each wounded dragon and rider.
Before my eyes, raw wounds seal without scars, and mangled limbs straighten and strengthen.
The dragons shudder as their tattered wing membranes mend, translucent skin webbing between struts like fabric on a loom.
Damaged scales shimmer and multiply, spreading like liquid metal.
A female Skyblaze whose name I never learned sobs openly as she watches her dragon's wing rebuild itself. "Oh, thank the Goddess!"
Zephyros's voice fills my mind. —This is true power. To create, not destroy.