53. Astraea
Chapter fifty-three
Astraea
Like my lungs have been starved for air, I come out of the vision with a sharp gasp.
Confusion clouds my senses, and at first I’m not even sure where I am.
It only takes a moment for the reality of my situation to come crashing back.
Looking around, I realize that hardly any time has passed at all.
My hand remains pressed between the horns of the manticore as he bows before me, shading me from the rising sun.
The day has barely begun, but the heat has already caused sweat to gather at the back of my neck.
Cole's fingers wrap around the crook of my elbow as if she is what is tethering me in place. My gaze slides to hers and the intensity in her eyes. It’s all fear.
“What was that?” She asks, her voice low with concern as she pulls a little more firmly on my arm.
Her eyes search every part of my face, but I don't know what to say. What did she see? Surely not at all what I did. I have no answers for her, and I don’t know why touching the manticore brought back a flood of missing memories.
This isn’t the first time I have touched him, but it is the first time since I had access to my magick.
I don't understand what it means… I let my fingers slip from the manticore’s mane, and a sad smile pulls my lips up at the corner.
Its blue eyes lift to meet mine. A low rumble, almost purring-like, sounds from his chest. Almost as though the beast is saying he knows my pain.
He was there too.
“The manticore are the protectors of the gates to Zamiel and Runerth, but one of the passages from the books that we read said they are also messengers of the gods.” Rowan steps into my view.
His eyes, where he had previously surveyed me with suspicion for so long, seem to lighten with something like understanding as he looks between me and the mythical creature.
“You had a vision.” He’s not asking, but I answer with a nod just the same.
“Astraea, your eyes were pure white. They rolled into the back of your head.
I tried pulling you away, but you couldn't be snapped out of it.” Colette swallows hard around her words, as worry stitches her brows together tightly.
Her fear between what just happened and the creature in front of us is almost tangible.
I’m silent for a moment, looking between all of them.
How do I even begin to tell them what I saw when I don't really know how to explain any of it?
What I thought were nightmares all my life were really just a mottled version of the truth?
How do I come to terms with the fact that one of the men standing before me today has ties to it all?
“I—I saw the reality of the nightmares I’ve been plagued with my whole life.” My voice feels hollow as I finally speak, and I feel dumbstruck at what I am saying. I finally have some semblance of answers, but every time I get an answer, more questions arise.
“You saw the truth.” Shayd’s voice comes out as heavy remorse, and I turn toward the sound of it.
Our eyes clash like the truth he speaks of are weapons we both now wield.
My heart has yet to steady in my chest, and seeing him now, an older version of the man I just saw in my vision, has my breath catching in my throat all over again.
“You were there.” The accusation brings hot tears to build at the back of my eyes, and I recall more about what I’ve just come to realize.
He was standing at Phaedra’s side during all of it.
I can't dismiss that fact, even if I saw the pain clearly on his face in that vision.
He still stood by and let it happen. I can't understand him.
He spoke with such reverence when he talked about my mother before.
This contradicts that in every sense. He sat there and watched her be murdered.
“I’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to rectify my parts in all of this.
I can’t expect you to understand, Astraea, but I swear to you it is the truth.
A part of me died that night too.” When he steps toward me, I pedal backward.
Cole tries to keep her grip on my arm, but I rip it out of her hold, needing space more than I need a tether.
He shakes his head, seeing my need to flee. “You have to believe me.”
“How, Shayd? How do I believe anything you’ve said?
Why didn't you tell Kyros? Why not tell us both when we were all together?” I demand answers, digging my feet into the sand.
Like I told Kyros, whatever happens from here on, we won't run away from it.
I won't run away from this. Cole looks between us, silent, but I can see how confused she is.
“I’m far from perfect. I know that, but I’ve been trying every day to make up for my wrongdoings. I had to think of the others, too. I’ve been setting precautions in place for if anything were to happen to me. They have to be protected. Kyros has proven my fears to be valid.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I bite out, so tired of every answer bringing only more questions yet again. But it's not Shayd who answers.
“Kyros would do anything to keep you protected. Even if that means sacrificing everything else.” Mavros’ voice surprises me coming from behind me. I spin so fast I almost lose my footing. Relief washing over me, while the weight of his words sink in.
Kyros would sacrifice everything. Just like my father tried to do—my real father. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to get my thoughts to stop spiraling. Force myself to focus.
“What did you mean when you said the others? Who else are you trying to protect?” I ask pointedly.
“As the years passed, Phaedra studied the magick we possess.” Shayd says calmly as Mavros comes to stand at my other side.
Every piece of information he provides lashes at me like a whip.
Jarring with every emotion that comes from them.
Mavros puts a strengthening hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze as he looks down at me.
“Give him a chance to explain,” Rowan interjects, and I can’t help but feel a wave of anger toward the man.
“Please,” he adds softly before nodding toward Shayd, and while he is urging me to listen, he too looks just as suspicious as I do.
I swallow hard, my gaze burrowing into Rowan, the same man who was so quick to accuse me of lying.
But I bite my tongue and decide not to tell him how that sounds coming from him.
After a tense moment, Shayd continues to speak.
“Phaedra obsessed over her need for power. That was even before it was fueled by her need for revenge over Connard stealing what she saw as hers—both Eathian and you.” He says, and I take a deep breath as I brace myself for whatever he says next.
“Because of her research, she thought you would be the key to the gods.
A piece of both worlds. Both magicks. Connard cut her out of their plan when you were basically delivered to him that night.
I didn't mean to. I thought I could protect you. But when I took you from one battle, we found ourselves thrust into another.” His words begin to bleed together as his words come out quicker and the breaths I pull into my lungs feel too thin.
“Connard found us that night. Strangely enough, it was not long after I had run into Kyros and Mavros. They were trying to escape Eathian after what Connard did. They knew how to fight, but they were still boys—wrecked with emotion and up against trained, ruthless soldiers. I tried to get all of you out, but I failed. I had already used too much of my magick.” He shakes his head, shoving his hands through his hair, as he turns to face the others.
“That's one of the reasons I always pressed the importance of not relying on magick. You need to learn how to get yourself out of situations without it. I didn't want you ending up in a situation like I had put myself in.” He stares down at his hands as though they are at fault for everything that happened. “If I had used a little less leading up to that, I could have changed the outcome of so many lives.” Shayd admits, eyes finally lifting and jumping between Mavros and me. My gaze falls to the ground as all of us silently try to work through the story he’s telling.
“The others you were trying to protect… The home you created in Diemos…” Mavros stares almost through Shayd as he puts together what has yet to be said. Shayd nods, confirming Mavros’ line of thinking.
“I created a home to protect those with magick like ours. Kres-born.” Shayd and my eyes lock.
“Maisy?” I ask, and he confirms with a nod.
“She is actually one of the rare few with mixed blood like yours.” Mixed blood? A piece of both worlds, both magicks.
“I don't understand, though. Why? What was so important about me?” I ask, still not looking up from the sand at my feet.
Even though I ask the question out loud, it's just as much for me as it is for any of them.
I don't understand. If this was all about power, what could a six year old girl have to do with anything?
And if there are others like me, I can't be that special…
Why was my magick hidden from me for so long? None of this is adding up.
“I’ve been asking that since the beginning.
” A voice calls out from a distance. My head jerks up to see who I already know it belongs to.
Pravin. My heart plummets at the sight of him.
Exhaustion boiling over to something holding strength.
He stumbles over the top of one of the closest dunes.
Battered and bruised, it looks like he was halfway buried alive when the caves fell.
A shame he made it out. The manticore’s growl permeates the space between us.
A threatening rumble that Pravin seems not to notice.
He slides down the sand dune, slowly standing at its base.
“Why don't you just give it up, Pravin? Connard is dead. You have nothing to prove to anyone anymore.” I seethe, noticing how the manticore slowly takes a step forward, edging closer to me. Pravin laughs, the sound hysterical and depraved.
“Give up? Don't you see? I’ve lost everything with that old bastard's death. He always went on and on about releasing the Zavian magick. It’s why we punished you so hard. Clearly, not hard enough.” He sneers, sloughing off tattered clothes as he shuffles toward us.
“The king was scared that if you learned how to do something with that magick of yours, you would be the end of his reign. He was scared of his own shadow in the end, and for what? To be cut down by a near-powerless woman. Now I just want my pound of flesh, princess.” I have no time to think about what he just said or what to do next.
It all happens in an instant. He pulls a huge blade from the loose, tattered sleeves of his tunic.
With a manic cry, his arm arches and he hurls the sharp weapon through the air and in my direction.
The blade flies through the air, end over end, slicing so close to my head.
I don't think about what to do next. I throw my hand out and render a portal between us.
The manticore lets out a roar that vibrates the air, sending several of my friends to hit the ground in the chaos.
Pravin is nothing to me. I don't care what happens to him next.
I know that the people here with me right now will be protected by the manticore just as I have been, and what I need more than anything right now is to get us all to safety.
“Everyone through!” I call out, and they rush to my side.
“Where are we going?” Mavros asks, determined and ready.
“We need to go somewhere we can rest and prepare.” I look up to meet his gaze. “We're going to The Pit.”