33. Farewell
Chapter 33
Farewell
S ylzenya squeezed her goddess’ hand until the golden light left her eyes.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, and mind reeling, Sylzenya wept. Her goddess hadn’t been who she’d thought; she’d been ruthless, cunning, but most of all, desperate. In her efforts to save humans, she’d killed many, and Sylzenya couldn’t blame her for such a choice. She’d been making the same decision throughout her entire time in Lhaal Forest.
But Aretta had also lied to her, shaped her to be someone Distrathrus would want for more than just power: sadistic love. A warped and twisted sort of yearning. It disgusted her. This goddess was supposed to be a deity she honored and worshiped, but she turned out to be worse than any human she’d encountered in her lifetime.
Gripping the hilt to the point of pain, Sylzenya cursed her goddess. Whether she loved or hated Aretta, she now held a sword in her hand, given a burden far heavier than any she’d felt before. Providing for her people was one thing—that she knew how to do—but to kill a god with brute, tactical force?
She didn’t know how she could possibly accomplish the task.
Despite Aretta’s death, the golden power of the tree didn’t diminish. Her birds flew down from the sky, landing in the meadow next to her, Elnok, and Kharis.
Each of them drew shapes into the grass, the shapes glowing brighter until they raised from the ground and solidified into objects. One of them was a shield, gold-plated with intricate designs carved into its metal. The bird who created it pointed its beak to Kharis. The Dynami stood, his face stoic as he took up the shield.
“I believe I’m to be your shield, Sylzenya,” Kharis said as he turned to her, his hair blowing in the soft breeze, “I’ll protect you until my last breath—until Distrathrus is killed once and for all.”
Sylzenya gave him a nod, yanking the sword out of the goddess’ body; Aretta’s flesh flickered with yellow light, transforming into sparks of power before drifting into the air.
A bird poked its beak on Sylzenya’s thigh. She looked down. A compass laid in the grass. The cool outer casing was set in gold, the needle of the compass glowing a bright white.
Looking closer, Sylzenya recognized the needle’s sharp shape.
“The tip of an arachni fang,” she whispered.
The needle spun in circles until coming to a complete stop, pointing west—Distrathrus’ location.
Taking a deep breath, she placed the compass in her linen pant’s pocket, using all her strength to lift the sword she’d inadvertently used to kill a goddess. A goddess whom Sylzenya now realized she’d never known at all.
“Elnok, you’ve been given something as well.” Kharis pointed to another bird, the creature sitting atop something aglow.
Elnok slowly approached it, the bird watching him intently until he kneeled down and observed the object. The bird flew away, the object’s glow dissipating, revealing a black leather whip accented in gold.
“She certainly knew your taste,” Kharis managed to laugh.
“I hate to admit it, but this is much nicer than my rope,” Elnok replied, examining the weapon and pocketing the vial of medicine.
He’s going to leave me.
Sylzenya shook away the thought as she stood. “Kharis, we better go. Elnok…”
But she couldn’t finish her words as he turned to her, his face suddenly downtrodden.
“Look,” Kharis interrupted, “I’m going to make sure we know where the entrance is to this tree. I suggest you two clear the air before I find it.” He turned around, a heavy sigh as he continued, “Don’t leave things left unsaid, trust me.”
He disappeared behind a thick grove of willows.
Despite being surrounded by unparalleled beauty, it felt like they were back at the inn, the draped sheet splitting them apart.
“You were right, Syl, I’m breaking my promise to you,” Elnok finally said, as if his words were trying to pull the sheet away, “You have no idea how much I wish I didn’t have to leave?—”
“You need to save Orym,” Sylzenya interrupted, not wanting the sheet to come down again. She couldn’t bear the idea of doing this without him, and yet she needed to. “I understand. He needs you more than I do.”
Elnok’s throat bobbed. “Just be careful.”
Sylzenya blinked away the tears threatening to form in her eyes. “We’ll do what we can.”
“That is… less than reassuring.”
“I’m not sure what else I can say. Aretta’s dead, and she’s left me with an impossible task. Yet, there’s no other course of action I can take.”
Elnok cursed as he left his new whip on the ground, taking a step towards her. She took a step back, not wanting to feel his touch, because if she did, she knew she’d beg him to stay. Any courage she could muster in this moment to go and defeat Distrathrus could be swallowed whole by this man’s gaze alone.
“Syl, promise me you’re going to make it out alive.”
She shook her head, tilting her head to the glowing sky, the tears threatening to fall.
“I’ll make it out alive, Elnok, I promise.”
His footsteps crunched in the grass. She slowly backed away, unable to look at him, at her hands, at the sword—only the sky was safe.
“Look at me,” Elnok pleaded.
“Elnok, I can’t?—”
“Please, Syl.”
“I can’t?—”
“Sylzenya, look at me. ”
Turning her gaze to him, the tears spilled down her face. Elnok took her hand, his green eyes glassy and his half-smile gone. It was a face she wished she hadn’t seen, the kind that makes someone doing everything they can to hold themselves together only fall apart faster.
Sobs replaced her confidence as she threw her arms around his neck. Strong, tense arms wrapped around her, Elnok holding her so close she found it difficult to breathe. The tears wouldn’t stop falling, everything coming to a head, the task ahead of her far too great.
Elnok had become a cornerstone over the last five days. Her life had been ripped to shreds, and now, during the most trying moment of all, he was leaving.
And she’d more than likely never see him again.
Elnok whispered her name, soft and hushed, the same way her mother and father used to when she was frightened. But it only made her hold him tighter, cursing her inability to keep herself together. Her goddess had a vision that Sylzenya would be the one to kill Distrathrus with a sword, but how could she possibly complete such a task when she could barely stand on her own two feet?
“Talk to me,” Elnok whispered, his breaths brushing along her ear.
Burying her face into his warm skin, she said, “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he said, his fingers digging into her back. “But just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”
She took a deep, shaky breath. “What do you mean?”
He paused, trailing a hand down her hip, pulling her closer. “Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come back with me to Vutror. You and Kharis. We’ll heal Orym, get my crew, and then we’ll find a ship and get off this damned continent.”
Birds chirping and dragonflies buzzing, Sylzenya considered his words. She could go with him, away from this daunting, impossible task, and she could live a life far away from here. She’d heard of the ocean, had seen pictures in books; it was treacherous more often than not, but it seemed Elnok felt confident his crew would navigate it well enough.
“We could,” she whispered.
She felt his smile against her neck, a calloused hand wiping hair away from her face.
“Your goddess did this, not you. She can’t expect her creation to clean up her messes.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Sylzenya rubbed her forehead on his shoulder. He was right—everything between Aretta and Distrathrus was a product of their own selfishness, not hers. It was unfair to bestow this on her shoulders.
And yet, there was no one else.
Monsters would kill every last human on the continent while she sailed away, leaving everyone else to reap the destruction she’d had the chance to prevent. It didn’t matter that she shouldn’t be responsible for killing Distrathrus. The fact remained that, according to Aretta’s vision, only she could kill him.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “His blood still runs through my veins, and enough people have died by my hands. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I could’ve prevented more from dying.”
Elnok tensed. “But this isn’t your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Sylzenya retorted, straightening and leaning back, staring into his eyes. “I’ve killed a lot of people, Elnok. Stolen their lives without a second thought. I may not have intended it, but my intentions don’t change anything. Aretta thought she was making the right choice, but it turned out to only make matters worse.” She stared at his tunic, the black texture glistening in the golden light, purples, oranges, blues, and reds shimmering. “What kind of person would I be to walk away knowing thousands of lives could’ve been spared by my hand?”
His shoulders drooped, his hands squeezing her arms as he shut his eyes.
“But what if you die?”
Light filtering through the surrounding willow trees, Sylzenya flexed her hand. The earth—this strange earth within this powerful tree—sang to her. But this melody was different—soft and aching, a yearning for home. It flitted through her hair, danced along her skin, and melted into her flesh.
A strange sense of calm wrapped around her veins, like vines covered in salve. If she was going to die, then she would make sure Distrathrus died with her. No more destruction by her or her people’s hands; no more taking what wasn’t theirs; no more death.
She needed to end it once and for all.
“Then I’ll die knowing I finally did what I’ve always wanted.” A small smile peeled across her mouth. “Being here for my people—and for the continent—when I’m needed most.”
Elnok no longer stared at her. Instead, his gaze turned to the ground, his body shaking as shimmering tears fell. Filled with a new sense of purpose and longing, Sylzenya tilted his chin up. His bloodshot eyes searched hers as if trying to find some way to change what had to be done.
“Then I’ll go with you,” he said, standing tall.
Sylzenya shook her head. “We both have our own responsibilities. You have Orym and your crew while I have?—”
“The entire fucking continent,” he muttered.
She laughed, wiping the tears from his face, the stubble of his jaw rough against her fingers. She’d miss it—miss him.
“Same thing, really,” she chided, brushing stray strands of hair from his face.
A harsh laugh mixed with his sobs. “And here I thought I was going to be the one to comfort you. I should’ve known better.”
She tilted her head. “Why’s that?”
“Because,” he leaned down, his breaths evening out as they brushed her lips, “you persevere, even when no one has the will to do it. And while I hate your goddess to the deepest, darkest pits of hell, she couldn’t have chosen anyone better to see that Distrathrus finally gets what he deserves.”
Lower lip quivering, Sylzenya’s smile wobbled. Her heart, her nerves, and her resolve steadied, and she didn’t question herself as she said her next words.
“I’ll never forget you.”
Elnok’s brows dipped, his grip squeezing her arms tight. A small warm silence floated between them. She wanted him to understand that, if it had been possible, she would’ve gone with him to the ends of the earth.
“How dare you undo me like this,” he whispered.
Before she could reply, he pressed his lips to hers.
Yearning and desire spiked through every crevice in her body as she breathed him in. It was as if air no longer existed, only his calloused fingers as they caught on her smooth arms; his heartbeat pulsing in rhythm with her own; his scent of worn leather and earthy musk draping and melting into her skin.
Sylzenya gasped as Elnok pressed her up against one of the willows, its branches and leaves a thick canopy, enough privacy even if Kharis returned. He placed his thigh in between her legs, a whimper leaving her lips as she arched her back, his large hand pulling her closer to his chest while instructing her to do as she pleased. Desperation laced through his lips, his tongue, his hands; she grabbed his tunic and ran her fingers through his hair.
“Even if this is all the time we were given, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.”
Slowly, she reached for the waist of his pants. “Neither would I.”
He laughed, warm and deep, a yearning already building in her chest knowing she’d never hear it again.
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you,” he replied, running his hand along her rib cage, stopping just beneath the swell of her breasts.
“I want to remember this moment,” she whispered into his mouth. “I want to remember you like a new scar running along my body, opening whenever I think about you.” She brushed her finger along his stubbled jaw, “I want to remember how, even in these past few days during my darkest moments, you inspired me to live.”
“ Sylzenya ,” he breathed.
But no more words left his lips, nor did they leave hers. There simply weren’t enough words to describe this weaving together of their flesh as they stripped one another, the naked hardness of his skin like an ushering home as he slid into her. They were no longer separate, sharing a moment holy and strong enough to mark their souls—one they both chose for themselves. She ran her fingers along the scars on his back, careful to keep her touch soft and delicate while his strokes inside her were anything but.
She whispered ancient prayers of devotion into his ear for the last time.
One last time.
She’d offer him her worship, because he deserved it more than anyone else. And maybe it was sacrilegious of her, the highest form of blasphemy she could partake in, but her entire life had been a single heresy, bowing down and praising death and destruction. Surely, worshiping this man who loved others more than he loved himself, was the most holy thing she’d ever done in her life.
Golden light peeled from her skin, wrapping around them both as his cries joined hers. Colors flashed before her—purples and yellows and blues—a life with Elnok playing across her vision. Everything they could’ve been if this life had been different; if she’d never been born in Estea. If the gods had never gone to war.
Hers and Elnok’s children dancing in the meadows while they sat underneath a lush willow, reading books and drinking sweet wine, laughing at whispered crass jokes and dancing under moonlit skies.
Everything burst into glorious light, Elnok whimpering her name as she held tight to his neck, grazing her lips on his throat. She bowed into him, pleasure like blooming flowers opening to the warm rays of sunlight. And then the pleasure gave way to calm, the visions of a different life fading, their last moment passing by them in fleeting colors and bitter whispers.
What they’d done together these last five days hadn’t been enough—would never be enough.
She could move on, but a piece of her would always be missing.
“Alright you two, I found the entrance,” Kharis yelled through the grove. “Please, don’t make me come in there and separate you both. I’ve suffered enough as it is.”
Staring into Elnok’s pale green eyes, she offered a sad smile. Elnok brushed her hair from her face, kissing her forehead for a long moment.
They quickly cleaned and dressed themselves, the euphoric moment slowly fading away, their final fleeting glances causing the new scar within her heart to break and bleed.
Sylzenya grabbed the heavy sword, its blade glowing brighter than any she’d ever seen. Elnok picked up his whip, and together, they walked through the grove. Kharis was waiting for them at the edge of the meadow, the golden light of the tree shimmering in the shape of a door. Without another word, they followed him out of the goddess’ willow, entering the darkness of Lhaal Forest once again.
Elnok stepped out last.
The tree vanished.
Kharis gripped Elnok’s shoulder. “May I have a quick word before we part ways?”
Elnok agreed, the two men discussing in hushed tones. Taking a deep breath, Sylzenya studied the hilt of the sword, the weight of its make causing her to feel off-balance. She readjusted herself, cracking her neck and reminding herself of everything Aretta had told her.
Her powers weren’t just that of a Kreena, but a Dynami as well. Perhaps she could discuss the skill with Kharis, learn some tips to access it again so she could overcome Distrathrus’ barrier.
The men returned, the two of them embracing for a moment longer than she’d anticipated. Despite the animosity she’d witnessed on their way to the tree, it seemed they’d made up their differences.
“Syl,” Elnok said, releasing Kharis and grabbing her hand, “I believe in you—both of you.”
Chest filling with air and hope, Sylzenya nodded, words unable to find the tip of her tongue. They stared at their intertwined hands. Calling upon every point of will in her body, she let him go, her fingers slipping through his, her heart aching until she swore a part of it cracked.
“You see the path?” Kharis asked him, pointing towards a cleared portion of trees, “It’ll take you all the way out of the forest and set you straight to Vutror. It’s all flatlands once you get out of here. You’ll see your kingdom in the distance.”
Elnok nodded, his nostrils flaring as he patted the whip on his hip, the object glowing a bright yellow.
“Here,” Sylzenya said, “I want you to have this.”
She dug into her pocket, taking out the compass that had led them to Aretta’s Willow. The piece of bark no longer glowed.
Elnok half-smiled. “Thank you.”
He took the compass, rolling it in between his hands—those hands she wished she didn’t have to let go of.
As he turned, a cavern opened in her chest. He walked into the darkness of Lhaal Forest, his footsteps receding until all she could hear were the chitters and screeches of the monsters waiting for her at the other end of the forest.
Waiting with Distrathrus.