Chapter Seven #2
A woman in a ball gown made of ethereal light appeared next.
The closest example of perfection I’d ever seen.
She looked as if she’d been spun in moonlight and woven with threads of stardust, a vision too radiant for this world or any other.
Petals fell from a crown of roses, catching in her glorious mane of hair.
Her eyes reminded me of wishing wells, deep chasms filled with countless dreams.
“Rose and Astan had an affair, and Tsuri retaliated, pouring his wrath upon his former second. Fearing her own retribution, Rose fled, and in her haste, she tumbled to her death.”
The scene showed the perfect fairy-tale beauty tumbling through the night sky, whizzing through clouds and ultimately slamming into land, leaving a large crater that quickly filled with tears.
“Tsuri, who loved her still, poured his life into her, bringing her back from the abyss. He died, and she lived again, as Briar Rose.” Ember spread her arms. “The Rock grew where Tsuri’s body sank, and now Briar Rose and Astan seek to finish him.”
So much to take in. The scene switched, showing the water level sinking while the Rock grew and rose. It had been, was—is—a living entity, and I now walked within him. Wow, wow, wow.
“Know that you cannot outreason Astan,” Ember continued.
“He has lived millennia and understands the human mind in ways you do not. There’s no better manipulator.
And when that doesn’t work, he uses intimidation.
If that fails, he promises you worlds. He’ll even follow through .
. . at first.” A perfect breeze made her long tresses dance over her shoulders.
“His council aids him, all former guards in Tsuri’s army. ”
A parade of deities appeared in flashes.
“After soundly defeating Astan and his ilk, and razing Theirland, Soal trapped the lot within their own monuments. They would have remained imprisoned, leaking their hatred, the Madness, until the end of the age if humans hadn’t burned through the invisible veil separating the two worlds.”
War scenes flashed next, the council of gods fighting an invisible force—and losing.
Amid the battles, buildings fell, and smoke billowed.
And when that smoke cleared, those same deities stood frozen in stone casings, shadows oozing from tiny cracks .
. . until the sky split with a line of crimson fire and half of the statues vanished.
Confused, terrified people appeared in every direction. The Rock, gone.
“As more and more of us became infected, the gods strengthened within their prisons, doing everything in their power to prevent Soal from aiding us,” Ember said. “And yet, he made a way, through Tsuri, weaving the Rock into Ourland.”
She stopped, giving us a moment to absorb her newest revelations. I tried my best. Tsuri. Rose. Excuse me, Briar Rose. Astan. An affair. Life for death and death for life.
“Many of you have heard the gods are waking,” she said, and I realized we were back where we’d started.
“The truth is, they are already awake. In fact, some of the lesser gods escaped years and months ago. Something Soal arranged, allowing us to learn and practice on the weakest of the bunch before we face the big bads, who remain trapped within their monuments, disembodied.” Her gaze swung to me, rocking me on my feet.
“When they break free, and they will, they’ll require hosts.
Humans able to survive the power surge that comes with them. ”
I shot a hand into the air, and she nodded at me. “You’re talking about possession,” I said, half question, half statement.
“Yes and no. I’ve seen it happen with the lesser gods I mentioned.
They merge their essence with a human’s and fight to take over.
Things became distorted for the human. Time, light, shadows, reality.
The human then descends into a madness far worse than anything you’ve previously encountered.
On the flip side, Soalians are conduits for Soal’s power.
It is his light that glows within us. As we read our books, his words, we fuel it, which makes us stronger conduits. ”
She canted her head to the side, frowned, and nodded, as if she listened to someone we couldn’t hear. “All right. I’ve got somewhere to be. Class dismissed.” Her gaze landed on me once again, and I shook under the weight of it. “Think about all I’ve said and how it might apply to you. Okay?”
“Yes.”
Both instructor and students dispersed, but Mom hung back with Beeeep and me, as I put on my shoes. We had only just started discussing the shocking history lesson when Domino approached.
“You may read your book,” he said, attention fixed on me, “or remain with your mother, but you cannot do both. The choice is yours.”
“Book, book, book,” I rushed out, clasping his hand and darting forward, intending to drag him if necessary. “Bye, Mom. Love you.” I would find a passage featuring the problem with Cyrus, and that was that.
Domino didn’t budge, which meant I didn’t budge. Oh, sweet goodness. I’d grabbed him without permission again. For the second time, I released him in a hurry and muttered an apology.
He faced my mom, unconcerned. “You are Elise Roosa, mother to Lady Arden.”
“I am. And you are Domino Crane, famed librarian.”
He inclined his head. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, and I wondered where this polite version of my librarian had been hiding.
I may or may not have muttered the question out loud, and he may or may not have smirked at me.
She glanced between us and grinned. “Go on, you two. Do your thing,” she urged, shooing us away. “There’s plenty of time for chitchat later. Just know I’m always available to help.”
“You shape the lives of the children you tend,” Domino said, still not budging. “You help us every day.”
He’d meant those words. They hadn’t been a polite rejoinder, but a considerate observation from a powerful man.
Mom flushed with pride. “I see why all the girls are crazy for you,” she said, beaming at him.
No question about it: He blushed. I pressed my lips together to stop a laugh.
She didn’t seem to notice his unexpected reaction as she kissed my cheek and hugged me once more. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too.”
Off she and Beeeep went, conversing happily all the way.
“So all the girls have a crush on you, huh?” I teased.
“Not all.” Blushing again, Domino finally budged of his own free will, walking off. “Come.” He returned me to the space with the cozy chairs and trees growing through the gold-paved floor. The other occupants were gone. We were alone.
He motioned to a square table, and I eased into one of the two chairs stationed there, ready. As he eased into the chair across from me, his scent registered, and I frowned. The same delightful fragrance I’d detected in the fog. Fresh rain and rich earth.
Had he produced the fog?
Before I could delve deeper, he passed me a book I hadn’t known he’d held.
Instant obsession, all other thoughts fleeing.
Tingles spread up my arm as I glided my fingers along the smooth brown leather.
Over the title. “The Book of Arden, Volume 20.” The same tome I’d read before.
Lovely flowers were etched over some of the letters.
In the center was a circle with seven lines of different sizes inside it.
According to Ember, that circle contained the mysteries of The Book of Soal.
“Why did you select this particular volume?” I asked. Why not nineteen or twenty-one? For that matter, how many volumes told my story?
“On most occasions,” Domino replied, “you’ll select the book you wish to read. This time, I made the selection. It has called to me for days. Whatever waits inside the pages occurs in the future, and I’m part of it.”
I tried to look up at him, but I couldn’t drag my attention from the cover. It called to me too. Open . . .
Yes. I must. And there was only one way. I concentrated with all my might, willing the lines inside the circle to move. And move they did, but slowly. The barest twitch. Not good enough.
The harder I stared, the stronger the twitches became, until .
. . yes! The lines drew together and snapped in place, pushing the outer ring into a spin, exactly what occurred to open the Rock.
Bubbling over with eagerness, I cracked open the spine.
A yellowed title page led to a letter from the author. No coded text, all readable.
Excited, I devoured the passage.
My dearest Arden,
I have written for you a beautiful love story.
Yes, there is pain within your pages. Yes, there are tests and trials too.
We have a determined enemy. Let me assure you, the end is worth every hardship.
I can help you, no matter what snares he constructs, so let me.
Read my thoughts, see what comes. Trust me or not. Every day, in every way, you decide.
Yours,
Soal
A lovely note, but also nerve-racking. Pain. Tests and trials. A determined enemy. “Soal says he wrote my book, a romance, as if he authored my future.”
“He did. He’s able to see the end from the beginning and shape events to get there. But Astan sees a different end and writes books as well. I promise you, his tale of your life is horror.”
“I’ve already lived a horror novel,” I mumbled. Never again. Trembling, I flipped to the next page and found the coded text I’d expected. A sigh slipped out. This was going to be a long day.
Letting the world fade from my awareness, I worked and worked . . .
And worked . . .
And worked.
Finally, the little symbols unraveled, more letters forming right before my eyes. A single paragraph became clear.
Astan has claimed Cyrus as his chosen. It’s obvious. Tick tock goes the clock. The beginning of the end is here.
My stomach dropped. Astan would select Cyrus as his host? The knowledge settled hard, but okay. So it wasn’t great news. It wasn’t the worst either. Cyrus would say no, and we’d move on.
On the next page, a larger passage cleared, and I hurried to read.
We stand in a stalemate, the battlefield between us a nightmare of lifeless bodies and scattered limbs bathed in the unflinching light of Theirland’s twin suns.
Lavender and gold streak the sky, casting an eerie glow over the blood-soaked earth, where rivers of crimson carve fresh paths through the flatland.
Overhead, a restless flock of scavenger birds circles, their shrill cries piercing the thick, heavy silence as they await their feast.
A fresh wave of CURED soldiers floods in, surging from behind the former high prince and hurrying to kill the array of glowers trapped around me. Men and women I admire. Many more will die today if I don’t stop Cyrus. But how do I strike down the man I love?
No. No, no, no. Cyrus would say no. He wouldn’t accept . . . couldn’t . . .
But he might.
“No!” I burst out. Soal had promised me a love story.
And pain.
And tests and trials.
I swallowed. This must be a mistake. Cyrus would never accept Astan. Not ever.
But if he did . . .
We would absolutely go to war.
I swallowed harder. I must have misunderstood what I’d read. Yes, that was the simplest explanation. I just had to read on, and I would learn what came next. Perhaps a celebration because we’d so thoroughly fooled all of CURED, pretending to do battle. Yes, yes. I must only read on.
On edge, I buried my face in the tome and labored to decode the next passage.