Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mouth agape and limbs trembling, I stared at the Spirits for a moment that stretched on, before falling to a knee, hand over my heart.
“Spirits of Mystique Warriors past, I come to thee for thy trial, honor, and permission so that I may pass through the Spirit Volcano and ascend as a Mystique Warrior.” The words tumbled from my mouth in awe.
As a teenager, I had recited the greeting for hours, until my tone and reverence were perfect, but none of that rehearsal mattered as it flowed from my lips.
The essence of the Spirits before me pitched my speech beyond my control.
I didn’t lift my eyes from the ground, watching the way the flame flowed through the volcano’s thin veins beneath my feet. Sparkling trickles of reds bled into oranges, faded into yellows.
After a moment, one of the Spirits spoke, his voice deep and warm. “Rise, Ophelia Tavania Alabath.”
I did as I was told, straightening my spine and shoulders. Despite the state of my appearance, I stood proudly. These injuries, the wrecked leathers, even the soot coating my flesh and hair, had delivered me to this moment.
The Spirit in the center, the golden-edged one, had a broad chest and shoulders even larger than Cypherion.
His long hair fell below his collarbones, wild, as I assumed his demeanor was.
“You come to us to grasp your destiny. We come to you to test your spirit.” It was the same voice that had told me to rise.
Though the words were ominous, he sounded somewhere between friendly and authoritative.
“Each of us will present you with one riddle. One lyrical puzzle to determine your strength of mind. Then, we will decide your worth.” Decide if I was to progress to the next level or rot in this flame-wrapped cavern for eternity.
I nodded, swallowing my intimidation, but I could not remain silent. “What are your names?” I needed to know these Spirits, to understand them. They had each been chosen for my Undertaking specifically, and deciphering why might lead to clues for these riddles.
The one on the right answered, his voice gruff to match his frown. “Inane girl. You do not question us.”
“Peace,” the golden-edged one said, turning to his companion. “She may ask us any questions she likes. We may answer however we please.”
The harsh one scoffed, his slender body shimmering with the motion, but he folded to the one in the middle. “I’m Hectatios.”
The Spirit on the left spoke next, her voice high and chilling.
“I am Glawandin.” Her oval face was flawless, with porcelain skin and delicate features.
She smiled slightly at me, but only with her lips.
When she shifted, the light caught her eyes.
Instead of irises, they were solid orbs of milky white fog.
Blind. Glawandin could not see. I tucked the piece of information away.
“And I am Annellius.” He brought a hand to his chest, dipping his chin. His wild hair cast shadows on the hard planes of his face. “Annellius Alabath.”
“Alabath…” I breathed over the name.
“A distant ancestor, many generations prior.”
His hair—flowing on a gust of warm wind—had a white tint to it, but beneath that film, I recognized the original golden shade. It was my father’s and Jezebel’s. It was mine. An Alabath Spirit.
“It is a pleasure to meet you.” The tension eased from my shoulders as I spoke to my distant relative, settling into the Spirits’ presence. “If I may ask, why does your frame glow gold while your companions do not?”
“Ah, unfortunately, that is not an answer I can provide.” His magenta eyes—my eyes, I realized with a jolt—lit up.
“Your eyes…” I lifted a hand to my own.
“Another thing I cannot discuss.”
Disappointment swept through me, cold and fast. But again, I tucked away that piece of information.
“Let’s get this over with, Annellius,” Hectatios growled, as if he had another appointment.
I looked at the Spirit, his silver hair flowing long down his back. With a cut jaw, full lips, and large eyes, one might have described him as beautiful—should he not have opened his mouth.
I braced my hands on my hips. “Why are you so rude? Is it not your duty to guide me?”
Hectatios’s chest swelled at my words, hands clenched. I swore I saw Annellius smirk out of the corner of my eye, but I would not break my stare from Hectatios. “How dare you—”
“She’s feisty,” Glawandin trilled. “I’d like to keep her.”
“She shares your fire, Hectatios,” Annellius snickered. “By all means, begin.”
Hectatios held out his hands and a veil lowered over the four of us, dimming the lights and heat of the flames. Annellius continued to watch me. At his side Glawandin stared at nothing, a pleasant smile brightening her face.
Hectatios spoke, his voice booming around us, the harsh tones amplified. “You began with hate in your heart. A cord of discord threatening to crush you. Now, you face us with a clearer mind because of this. What is it?”
I blinked at the Spirit. “What?”
“What is it?” Hectatios repeated each word distinctly.
“I have no forsaken clue what you’re talking about,” I retorted, heated frustration creeping into my voice.
“Ophelia,” Annellius’s voice was calming, his eyes understanding. “Think.”
Think. What good would that do me? I looked between the Spirits, attempting to grasp whatever hidden meanings their words held.
This part of the Undertaking was meant to determine your mental strength.
This was neither physical nor emotional, but purely knowledge based.
A trial for your mind, reaching into the depths of your brain to revive the cunning within yourself and hone that skill for any challenge a warrior may face.
The tundra and the ascent of the switchbacks—that was physical. The next portion I could only guess would be emotional. But this phase, this was when the Spirits tested your mental will, dedication, and ability.
I must think.
Anger bubbled up in my chest as I repeated Hectatios’s words in my head.
Hate in my heart…if anyone here had hate in their heart it was the silver-haired Spirit, not me.
The way he watched me with smug eyes and a set jaw, his unrelenting rage poised to tackle me should I fail his test. Fury stirred within my gut, accusations working their way up my throat.
It was a fury I had not felt since…
I looked at the Spirit again. That expression on his face…I knew it well. The narrowed eyes, the angry exhales, the gritted teeth. It was one I had worn for two years.
And I understood Hectatios’s purpose here.
He reflected me. My darkest parts when I walked through the world letting the anger printed on my soul decide my every action.
Rage at the universe for the fate that had befallen me.
Distantly, I wondered what had happened to the silver-haired warrior to damage his heart as deeply as mine.
You face us with a clearer mind because of this.
That was the answer I needed to find. There were endless possibilities, and I considered each as I paced the veined floor of the volcano.
Patience, compassion, strength…they all were solutions to what I had faced.
Each trait flourished in my heart, attempting to repair what was broken inside of me.
It seemed impossible that there was only one answer.
I stopped in my tracks and looked at Hectatios, deciding I needed to start somewhere. “Acceptance,” I blurted out.
His eyes narrowed further if possible. “No.”
“Patience, compassion, strength,” I continued down the growing list in my head.
“No,” he echoed. When I added three more guesses, he continued to deny me.
I threw my arms up. “But those are all pieces of me that got me here. How can none of them be correct?”
Now, a smile cut across Hectatios’s beautiful face, and something shifted in his expression. That was approval dancing in his eyes. “Ah, you are looking inward. Perhaps, try the opposite.”
The opposite, I thought, resuming my pacing. I ran my hands through my hair. I wished I had a rope to redirect the twitching energy within me and steady myself, but I had only my wit to rely on.
If the answer was not something within myself, then it must be something without. Something found in the world…or in others.
I realized there was not only one answer to the riddle. One grace, sure, but it was a result of many lives, something so vast that it took four to show it to me.
The answer came to me like a shooting star across the sky, illuminating everything in its wake and brightening all doubt.
When I was a pit of rage, my heart warped and tainted, my friends and sister had pardoned my worst behaviors.
They waited for me to return to myself, helped me get there through both patience and pushing.
On the journey here alone, they showed endless fortitude and loyalty, and once I had dragged myself from the darkest of pits, they acquitted those worst pieces of me.
Those shadows within my heart faded like dust in the wind.
I returned Hectatios’s gloating smile. “Forgiveness. Not forgiveness of myself, but forgiveness from others. That is what cleared my mind and heart so that I may be here today. I would not be here without the forgiveness of my friends and sister.”
The silver-haired Spirit nodded. The approval in his eyes glinted as he lifted his hands and the veil surrounding us dropped. The warmth of the volcano snaked around my shoulders, but I did not mind the heat this time. It bolstered me, riling my blood.
I turned to the two remaining Spirits, heart lifting in anticipation.
Glawandin’s cheerful voice filled the space. “It is my turn.” She swooped upward and spun in a circle, white flecks raining down upon me.
When they touched my body, my sight disappeared. “What’s happening?” I screamed, turning in frantic circles. There was a roaring in my ears. “Bring it back! Bring my sight back!”
“Hush, child,” Glawandin soothed. “Breathe. It will be all right.”