31. A Goddess
Chapter 31
A Goddess
S ylzenya stood next to Kharis and Elnok as she finished her last bite of plum and dried meat, swallowing it all down with a second filling of water from her waterskin. Sylzenya was grateful for the fresh linen tunic and pants she’d been given. Her tattered Kreena robe was floating in the river somewhere, lost in the foreverness of the enchanted tree.
Aretta sat before the three of them, her face mirroring that of her mother’s—all their mothers’—in the middle of a red and yellow meadow. Her white robe flowed into the grass, melting into it as if it pooled into water.
“You come here bearing many questions, some of utmost importance, some bearing no consequence,” Aretta said. “Ask your first question, and we’ll begin.”
Sylzenya stepped forward. “How do we stop Distrathrus?”
Aretta smiled. “You cut to the heart of matters, my dear Sylzenya. Very well.”
Waving her hands in the air, a swirl of petals surrounded the goddess, her body glowing and her eyes looking to the golden sky.
“As you’ve all come to learn, my brother Distrathrus has been using Kreenas and acolytes to store up my power in orodytes.” She twirled a flower. “In our final battle five centuries ago, I dispersed my power away from him and into the land. While we can’t interact with each other’s power, others have the ability to do it for us. He’s always been clever, so he discovered he could use Esteans to collect my power for him.”
A breeze rushed by them all, Sylzenya’s hair fluttering in her face.
“You three are not the first I’ve called here,” the goddess continued, picking another yellow flower and twisting in between her fingers, “but you three are the first to have succeeded in not only finding the compass, but finding my tree.”
Tossing the flower into the air, everything shifted. No longer were they in a meadow filled with golden light, but a sandstone sanctuary glowing with yellow-stained glass. A large, grand willow stood in the center of the room, its roots so big they cracked through the floors.
“The altar room,” Sylzenya whispered.
“Yes,” Aretta replied, “but this is the altar room two centuries ago.”
A woman with black hair and dark brown skin stumbled into the room, her eyes wild as she kneeled to the floor, grasping onto one of the roots with both hands, her body erupting with magic. Yellow light circled her, cutting into her back. Gritting her teeth, she spoke words Sylzenya couldn’t understand.
“‘ Seek Aretta’s Willow. Find the compass hidden within a willow, and you will save your people. ’ This is what I had one of my birds tell this woman in a vision two centuries ago, the only information I’m able to communicate thanks to my brother’s enchantment. She was a gifted Kreena. Enough power to seek me out, and yet not enough to stand out to Distrathrus. She was the perfect candidate to find my tree and destroy my brother, or so I thought.”
The vision shifted, the woman using her power as she walked from willow to willow in an alcove in the temple.
“What’s the meaning of this?” a familiar voice echoed along the sandstone walls.
The woman turned to find the High One at the end of the hall, fingers laced behind his back. His yellow gaze was bright, as if it were piercing through a shadow. Sylzenya could feel his cold hands on her shoulders, his voice whispering to her.
You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mi ? —
Elnok’s hand gripped hers, bringing her back.
“You’re alright,” he whispered.
Quickly, she released his hand. “I know.”
He sighed, thankfully not reaching for her again. She placed her focus back on her goddess and the vision, stepping closer to Kharis.
“Your Grace,” the woman in the vision said, bowing deeply, “Some of the acolytes were observing the willows and I was checking to make sure none of them were damaged.”
Distrathrus raised a brow. “Were they?”
“Not that I can tell.”
He breathed in deep, his yellow eyes sharp. It sent a chill up Sylzenya’s spine.
Distrathrus said, “You already know we have priestesses for such purposes. So, tell me again, what is it you’re doing?”
The woman gulped, sweat shining on her brow.
“I’ve noticed you haven’t partaken in the wine ceremonies this past week. Is it not to your liking?”
The woman backed up a step. “I’ve been taking a little break.”
He smiled, revealing a glass of wine in his hand. “Let’s be done with that little break then, hm?”
“I’d rather not, Your Grace, if that’s alright.”
“It’s, in fact, not alright, my dear. So please, have a drink and we’ll forget this ever happened. Unless you find something wrong with my wine?”
The woman looked at the wine, then at Distrathrus.
She broke into a run.
He caught her robe with his long, thin fingers, slamming her into the wall. She yelped. Gripping her jaw, he forced the glass to her lips and spilled the wine into her mouth. She screamed, attempting to spit it out. She kicked, but he dodged every attempt. Sylzenya’s heart raced as the woman finally slammed the wine glass away from her mouth, the glass shattering to the floor.
Yellow eyes flaring, the High One spun her around, kicking the back of her knees with such blunt force she screamed and crumpled to the ground. Quickly, he pulled out a dagger and sliced open her Kreena cut. Sylzenya gagged; Elnok gripped her shoulder. Distrathrus uncorked a vial full of black liquid and poured it into the woman’s open wound.
Sylzenya remembered what it’d felt like, Distrathrus’ blood spilling straight into her cut when he’d trapped her and Elnok in the Willow Grove. Torturous black flames consuming her bones, her muscles, every living thing inside of her until she was sure she’d been turned into ash.
The woman’s scream drowned out as the vision dissolved.
They were back in the temple’s altar room, the same woman standing before the great willow tree, her eyes clouded. Distrathrus stood behind her with a wide smile.
“Clever, sister. Very clever. But not enough, I’m afraid.” He motioned to the Kreena. “Destroy it, so my sister can’t communicate with anyone else ever again.”
Kneeling down, the woman gripped a giant root, her power shooting out of her body, wrapping around her, the roots, and the entire tree. Wind rushed through the room. Sylzenya could feel it brush her skin, her hair flailing with the woman’s as a giant crack ripped through the great willow.
The woman crumpled to the floor. Her face was hollow, cheeks sunken into her bones and eyes bulging from her skull. Blood pooled around her as Distrathrus’ shadow covered her.
Sylzenya’s stomach revolted against her, but she kept it down, staring into the dead eyes of the Kreena.
Aretta finally spoke, “My brother had finally disconnected me from my creation, using my own people to destroy the roots connecting my current prison to the willow in the altar room. I’d tried many times prior with different Kreenas and acolytes during the first few centuries of my imprisonment, but after this woman, he’d finally had enough.”
The temple’s altar room suddenly flooded with numerous women dashing in and out of its hall, like ghosts, running on top of each other, using their power to gain a vision from one of Aretta’s birds. Suddenly, the image shifted to different locations in Estea—the gardens, the temple hallways, the healing pool—where Distrathrus met each one of the women with a glass of wine and a vial of his black blood, forcing it into their open cuts.
“ No, ” Sylzenya whispered, stepping back, Elnok squeezing her tighter.
“This is cruel, ” Kharis finally shouted.
Aretta raised her hands, the vision dissipating, returning them to the meadow. “I finally stopped my endeavors a century ago. I was wrong for inflicting such harm on my own creation. Even so, Distrathrus gained more of my power each day, getting closer to his goal of resurrecting his body and taking the land— our land—as his own.”
The meadow disappeared again, replaced with darkness.
“But then,” Aretta continued, “I had a vision of my own. A foretelling of how to defeat Distrathrus, and it involved three people. First, a Kreena with insurmountable power.”
An outline of a woman erupted with golden light, a great willow rising above her head.
“Second, a prince who ran away from his crown.” The next outline carved into the darkness, this one of a man holding a crown, throwing it into the shadows and running towards the woman.
“And third, a Dynami who fell in love with a king.” The third outline was a man in armor, reaching out his hand towards a robed figure with a scepter in his hand.
Sylzenya stared before turning to find Elnok’s brow furrowed, his finger spinning the gold ring on his pinky finger.
“In the vision, it was clear only these three could defeat my brother.” Aretta continued, “And so, I stayed connected to the roots throughout the continent for an entire century—watching carefully. Low and behold, it was my brother’s desperation that started it all. Elnok’s parents began to stop shipping Vutrorian weaponry. They took away the only instrument capable of extracting orodyte serum for my brother’s resurrection. In his inability to negotiate politically, he issued the assassination of Elnok’s parents. He then sent shipment after shipment of wine, so that the next king, Tosh, would stay under his control and never limit their trade again.”
Sylzenya watched as Elnok spun his ring faster and faster, her insides twisting as if she was the ring spinning around on his finger.
“It was the king’s crazed state governed by the wine that drove Elnok away from his crown. And it was because Distrathrus sent more Dynameis to Vutror for trade that Kharis met King Tosh, the king’s anguish over what he’d done to his younger brother softening Kharis’ heart to the point of intimacy.”
“You don’t know anything about Tosh and I,” Kharis whispered.
Elnok spun his ring even faster; Sylzenya couldn’t stop herself, she held his hand. He didn’t refuse her, only squeezed her hand.
“And then, when Sylzenya met her hands to the earth only a day after Elnok’s escape from the dungeons, I knew. I could feel the way her power surged through the roots, the way her body could hold more power if it was given to her. I knew this was her—the Kreena needed to perfect the triad. And so, when she created her first willow, I pushed more of my power into her hands. I helped her create that first willow, gave her even more power than she had already possessed, and Distrathrus took immediate interest in her. A risk, but my vision foretold his obsession with this Kreena would be pivotal. But, I knew you’d still need more. My blood needed to flow through you; your father’s willingness to carry out the deed on your ceremonial day was the final piece of the puzzle.”
“ You involved my parents?” Sylzenya spat. “They’ve been starving in the dungeons because of this.”
“I did what had to be done,” the goddess replied, “Your parents understood well enough when I visited their dreams. They did as they were told: they stopped going to the wine ceremonies, and were able to smuggle a vial of orodyte serum undetected.”
“I thought it was Distrathrus who made a weapon out of me.” Tears welled in her eyes as she clenched her fist. “Not you. ”
Aretta held up her hands. “Before you start blaming prematurely, listen to what I have to say. You three are from my vision, the ones foretold to finally end my brother’s plan. And so, I helped each of you by preparing you and orchestrating a way to find my tree.”
Elnok stepped forward. “I can understand how Kharis and Sylzenya came into this—they worship you. But you had no guarantee I would ever step foot in Estea. I didn’t have a reason until Orym became sick.”
Aretta became silent, picking another flower from the meadow—a red one.
“Sometimes we must do things we aren’t proud of for the greater good.”
Elnok scoffed. “What the fuck are you…”
He paused. Sylzenya’s lungs squeezed.
No , she wouldn’t have. She was the goddess of life, not death, she couldn’t… wouldn’t ?—
“Just as I gave Sylzenya power, so I can take away. It’s a tiring effort, and I can only do it every so often, but I needed you to seek a way into Estea, and you needed a purpose. So, I figured out what would motivate you.”
Elnok’s hand squeezed Sylzenya’s so tight she held back a scream.
“You’re the reason Orym’s sick,” he whispered, “the reason he’s going to die.”
Laying the red flower in the grass, the goddess looked up.
“Yes, Elnok,” she said, “I am.”