38 #2
“Happy birthday, Huntress.”
“It’s . . . it’s my birthday? But . . . I’ve already . . .” Words evaded her as she glanced back to the fierce weapon in her hands.
Thirty-six days. The void, Thanos, and the dungeons flooded her. She’d been distraught at how much time had passed, but perhaps Thanos was right, and perception of time didn’t mean anything.
She’d been born on Hallow’s Day. Perhaps that was why she’d been so connected to Thanos lately?
A small smile played with her lips as a tiny fragment of her previous life bled through.
Today was her day, too. Today was a sign of her truth, her reality.
The faintest brush of cold, long fingers trailed across her shoulders and Kora shivered.
“Is that why everyone’s giving me gifts?”
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else. But I thought it was time you had a proper weapon designed for you.
” Raiden’s true meaning lay unspoken. Kora had been using the sister dagger from her past since Aerion’s first lesson with his chakrams. It was a fine weapon, but she knew it wasn’t designed for her, or her fighting techniques.
It had been awkward to wield, the precision and balance not quite melding with Kora.
But this dagger . . .
Her body thrummed with a raging need to use it, to see it slice through Barron’s throat.
“Thank you.” Kora’s whisper was the faintest of voices as her mind raced, her emotions clogging up her throat. Beside them, the gentle laps of ocean crested, the tide drawing in, splashing onto their boots.
“Careful, Huntress. Don’t want to drown the city with that big heart of yours.”
Kora blinked. “My heart is broken and black.”
“Not from where I’m standing.” Raiden tilted her chin up with an invisible brush of wind, whilst his hands stayed firmly tucked under his arms. Behind him, the dimmest streak of silent lightning cut through the sky, disappearing before Kora could register it.
“Remember our training. Take a deep breath, connect to your well within—your essence. Calm the tempest before it rages.”
Kora followed his instructions and slowly, the tide ebbed, slinking away as her grip tightened around the dagger.
“Good girl.” Raiden smiled, his lips quirking as his stare darkened. “Now that you’re calm, there’s one more . . . thing.”
“Another tart?” Kora wasn’t joking, she could survive on those things alone.
“Unfortunately not. You need to know something, and I need you to keep that tempest calm.” Kora already didn’t like where his tone was going.
“There’s a reason why your elemental gift is so strong.
Why you’re the only water elemental around.
But I think I’ve also realised why you’ve inherited divine powers. ”
Kora’s ears perked up. Since reviving Erick, no one had been able to give her an answer as to why she possessed two factions’ powers.
Apparently, her father, Davy, had never demonstrated any kind of divine or elemental power, and the tales of his Locker were just that—tales.
It was Thanos’ job to ferry souls through the Eternal Tryk, which had become lost with history, resulting in pirates weaving those tales of the Locker to assure their crew would be taken care of within death.
Because her father had been formidable, so much so, he’d become a legend.
“You were born on Hallow’s Day. Thanos’ day of remembrance and celebration.” Raiden swallowed, his jaw clenching.
“I don’t see what that’s got to do with my powers,” Kora frowned. Thanos had briefly mentioned Hallow’s Day during their time together. She wondered how civilians would react if they knew he recognised it, and witnessed their prayers and devotions.
“Tell me how old you are.” He surprised her, and Kora’s frown deepened.
“Erick said he never knew for sure, so the current guess is twenty-five. We celebrated my birthday as the day he . . . found me.” She cleared her throat, her scar gently heating with embarrassment.
They’d celebrated the day he’d stolen her.
The day Barron had infiltrated Galen Island, the day the empire had defeated the last stand against evil.
Raiden’s jaw ground, and his folded arms didn’t do much to hide the fists clenched at his sides. “Just add that to the pile of lies he fed you.”
“Okay, I get it. He wasn’t exactly father of the year, but I’m not losing another person. Now what’s this all about?”
“This may shock you, but you’re a bit older than you think you are.” Raiden inhaled. “Well, maybe a lot. Is thirty years a lot?”
“I’m thirty?” Kora’s voice rose.
Raiden winced. “No, I mean thirty more years. You’re fifty-five.”
Kora paused, studying him; the creases around his eyes, the way his lips were clamped together, slightly trembling. “This isn’t a funny birthday joke. You can tell Skylar to give it up.”
He shook his head.
“No . . . I’m not . . . I don’t look fifty-five!
” Kora paced to the ocean, struggling to see her reflection against the Mist. Was her hair truly white, or was it some kind of grey Erick had managed to pass off as unique?
She didn’t feel older, but maybe that was the magic, infusing some kind of spritely youth?
“Well, that’s because we’re not fully human.”
Kora stumbled. Not human? Her breaths came in quick pants and she clutched at her chest, half expecting the talisman to be there to ground her.
“What . . .” She sucked in another breath and Raiden appeared at her side.
“Hey,” his silken voice washing over her, “remember the tempest. Breathe, Huntress.” Kora sucked in deep breaths, her mind spiralling. He chose today to tell her this?
“How . . .” she wheezed as the anxiety grappled within her throat like a multitude of sharp claws, her gut churning in response.
“Any elemental isn’t fully human. No human can be blessed with elemental gifts, like other mages.
The power would destroy them from the inside out.
They can only be passed through descendants, meaning you carry the blood of the gods.
That blood grounds you to your power, to the islands, because the gods made the islands.
A small perk of that is delayed aging.” Raiden attempted a small smile, and Kora tunnelled on the way his hair shone in the warm light instead.
The colour of weapons. Something familiar and grounding, it settled the somersaults continuously spinning within.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m old enough to be someone’s grandfather. Compared to some people in the castle, you’re practically a babe.”
Kora released a small squeak.
“So . . . we’re part god? How does that make me divine?” Her body shook with the revelation. She knew she was distantly somehow descendant of Calypso . . . but to truly carry her blood? To be regarded as part god? Her water beast roared, not in anger, but in pride.
Raiden nodded. “A very small part of a god. I think being born on Hallow’s Day, at the turn of the third millennium, it infused you with more power.”
“Is such a thing possible?” Kora’s scar flared, recognising the conversation, and she winced as icy cold spiked down her cheek and wrapped around her neck. Kordelia lurked within, her haze steaming through the cracks of her prison.
“Divine is a gift that can be blessed, not passed through descendants. The gods can be fickle. Perhaps Thanos had been watching you and blessed you.”
Kora bit her lip. Her connection to Thanos was undeniable.
He’d sought her out in the void, taking interest in recovering her memories, holding her back from the edge of death until she craved life once again.
She’d not once received a sign from Calypso.
She wasn’t even sure if the elemental gods existed anymore, if they could even hear any of the mages praying to them.
Maybe Thanos was the only god left.
“How old are you?” Kora gripped her new dagger tightly as she stepped away. “Is everyone here . . . old?”
Raiden almost laughed. “You’ll get used to it.
We’re all still young in comparison to how long our lives can be.
My father’s age is truly unknown, he could be hundreds of years old.
He’s never told us.” Kora paled. So Zephyr had granted asylum to the pirates when Peril Cove fell .
. . over two hundred years ago. “I’m eighty-four. ”
“And he looks good for an old man.” Aerion sauntered up beside Raiden, his aloof grin stretching from ear to ear. “I’m guessing you’ve told Kora that we’ll all eternally look this handsome.”
Kora spluttered as Skylar and Aryn joined them. “You all knew?”
“Well, sure. None of us are young anymore, K.C.” Skylar fidgeted in her gown.
Raiden’s brows rose at the nickname.
“Rai’s the grumpy eldest one if you haven’t noticed,” Aerion continued, slapping Raiden’s back. “Me? I’ve never looked better at sixty-nine.” He winked.
Skylar faked a gag. “If it helps, I’m seventy-seven.”
Aryn remained silent as the siblings joked with each other.
The realisation settled into Kora’s body, her essence affirming to her that this was true, and it almost felt .
. . right. She’d never been more connected to Thanos, more so than Calypso.
She’d frequently felt there’d been an entire life she’d missed out on.
An intuitiveness she’d possessed that others hadn’t.
“Oh, gods,” Kora moaned. “That means I’m older than Erick!”