Chapter 21
“Are you sure we can trust her?”
Ana’s breaths were shallow in the cool air of the cavern as she whispered, “I would trust her with my life. She practically raised me.”
Ahead, torchlight illuminated the hollowed out space, and a woman came into view. The goddess eyed the three of them, handing the torch to Ana. “You are both sure of this?”
“We’re aware of the risks.” Her voice was firm, Ana giving her a small nod and a nervous smile.
The goddess drew closer, her gaze landing on him. “And you, son of Vulcan, are you quite sure? You risk the wrath of someone who would bring upon you far worse fates than death.”
“Vulcan?” Ana whispered. “You didn’t say he was his father!”
She stared at the goddess, shocked. “I didn’t know.”
The goddess’ smile was cold. “You are still untrained in the world, daughter of Nyx. I sensed it the moment I walked into this chamber, the way the flames flickered and bowed to him.”
“I don’t really give a damn who my father is. All I care about is that you don’t breathe a word of this to a soul.”
The goddess shook her head slowly. “It’s a shame. You could have been many things, Vane Evva, had you not met her, but the fates have had their way. We should begin. The ceremony is rather lengthy.”
Soren rolled over on the sleeping mat, her heart beating so fast, she thought she might pass out while lying down.
The man in the field, the one who had kissed the goddess and ridden dragons with her through the sky…
It was Vane.
She felt as if she was going insane, her mind whirring and her palms sweating under the thin blanket, despite the cold.
There was more too. The woman in the dream, the one named Ana—Soren had recognized her.
She didn’t know why or how, but her features had been familiar enough that she couldn’t dismiss it.
Plus, the timeline of the dreams was becoming confusing.
One moment, the goddess had been leaving Vane behind in that farm field, seemingly forever, and then the next she was riding with him. Then…
The cave.
A ‘ceremony.’
Soren tried to remember what they had been wearing. She could not see the goddess herself, had never been able to, but Vane and the others…
Gods, she couldn’t remember. And besides, Arenean weddings might be different to whatever the gods did.
But if she was right—
Wait.
She forced her whirring thoughts to slow, clouded by the usual haze that set in when she awoke. The goddess, the one with Ana, had said that ‘Vulcan’ was Vane’s father.
Vulcan. The god of fire.
Which meant Vane wasn’t even fully mortal, and if he had come from a time when the borders to Arcadia were still passable by mortals, he was over a century old.
The knowledge was too much, and she shut her eyes tight, wishing for the haze to take with it the realization. But the knowing remained, and with it, a decision to be made.
Did she confront Vane about it?
She couldn’t, not without raising suspicion as to how she knew. Perhaps he would be angry with her, or even kill her. Others must be unaware, for if the King of Aren knew he had a demi-god in his army, he surely wouldn’t be wasting his time training her.
In the end, the answer was clear.
She had to pretend she had no idea.
Soren was awake the rest of the night, rising as soon as dawn was a whisper outside.
But when she slipped out of the tent, she heard running and whooping.
She lingered near the tent entrance as a few soldiers rushed past her, shouting something about ‘those Misean bastards.’ Her throat tightened. Something must have happened.
Arenean flags waved as more emerged from their tents, drawn by the noise. Behind, she heard Cion rasp, “What’s going on?”
Soren took a deep breath and turned to face the princess, who was looking at her with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know. Some victory, I think.”
Cion nodded slowly. “Interesting. Last I heard, Misean forces had pushed us back towards the border, despite Meesling’s recent betrayal.”
Soren shut her eyes briefly then looked at Cion and said, “Princess, I didn’t know… What I mean to say is, I didn’t intentionally hide what I could do. It was out of fear. I never intended to use it. I had vowed to myself I wouldn’t a long time ago, but I was afraid for you—”
“It’s alright,” Cion said tersely. “And…thank you. I would be dead if it weren’t for you.”
Soren looked down. “Right. You’re welcome, princess.”
Cion laughed softly. “It’s odd to see you become yourself after all these years. It’s happening slowly, but I think I’m finally meeting you for the first time.”
Soren wasn’t sure how to reply, or if she even should. Cion sighed and grabbed her arm. “C’mon, let’s see what all the fuss is about.”
She followed Cion through the camp, soldiers eyeing Soren as they went. When they ran into Ilav halfway through shouting something that sounded a lot like ‘Fuck Mise,’ Cion tugged on his arm roughly and shouted in his face, “What happened?”
He grinned, his gaze landing on Soren as he replied, “The Miseans may have spirit, but we have something even more powerful. Mòr Maslach.”
Cion stiffened. “They sent him to push them back away from the border?”
Ilav gave an enthusiastic nod. “He burned hundreds of them. They had no choice. Now, we have our foothold back in Misean lands. Without the aid of the wyverns, it’s only a matter of time before they all burn.”
Soren took a step back. The entire morning had been too much, more than she could handle or bear.
The dream.
Vane.
The demise of so many Miseans in one fell swoop by that monster…
Turning away sharply, she ran, ignoring Cion’s shouts behind her. Her lungs burned and her legs felt limp from the training the day before, but she ignored the pain. She ignored everything, letting the rush of the air past her ears sweep away any thought that tried to overwhelm her.
She didn’t stop when she reached the edge of camp, skirting the dragon field and sprinting towards the creek where she had bathed several nights before.
Sloshing into the water, she collapsed in the middle of it and hung her head.
Her entire body convulsed as a sob tore its way up her throat.
For the first time in over a decade, she wept.
The necessary layer of ice around her heart broke apart under the pressure of it all, her howling cries an outlet for the pain ravaging everything that made her.
She did not stop weeping when she heard someone in the brush behind the creek, unable to bring herself to care what happened or who saw her. Only when she heard the splash of someone stepping into the creek did she finally raise her head.
Vane stood a few paces away from her. His hair was pulled back with a dagger, his jaw tense. She resisted the urge to leap at him and demand answers. Instead, she merely rasped, “Did you hear the news of our victory?”
He nodded once but said, “You care for them. Your people.”
She looked down at her hands, the pale of her palms red now in the icy cold water. “It doesn’t matter if I care or not. I’m betraying them.”
“You’re surviving, Soren.”
Shaking her head, she whispered, “Don’t say my name like you know me. We barely do, and I…” She took a sharp breath. “I know you hide things too.”
She waited, expecting him to become defensive or to threaten her. Instead, he sat down next to her in the water. The tips of his cheeks and nose were tinged pink from the cold, and she hated she found that endearing.
“No more secrets between us,” he said quietly. “What do you think you know?”
She inhaled sharply, looking straight ahead. “You would say I was crazy.”
“Are you?”
Her gaze flicked his way, finding the intensity of his gaze almost unbearable. “I don’t know anymore,” she admitted quietly.
“Tell me, even if it doesn’t make sense.”
She shook her head. “I…I have dreams. I have since I was a child.”
Vane looked tense, but he nodded. “What are they about, the dreams?”
“It sounds insane, but—”
“Stop thinking so much,” he ordered, his breath clouding the air. “Leave sense behind for a moment and tell me what you see.”
There had always been a trace of pain in his eyes when he looked at her. But now, as the water ran past them and he stared at her, she wondered if his mask was finally slipping away. She had no idea why she was the one to shatter through his defenses.
“Fine,” she rasped. “I see… There is a girl. I see things through her eyes. Pieces of her life, from before Arcadia was closed off.”
“And?” he pushed.
Their fingertips under the water were inches away. She glanced down, and a shimmer of gold caught her eye. Normally, he wore gloves, but now that his hands were bare, she saw the thin gold band on the pointer finger of his left hand.
“You didn’t tell me you were married,” she said, eyes on the ring, her chest caving in with a surge of foolish disappointment.
She had suspected what the goddess in her dreams was to him, but seeing it now, in her waking hours, was a sharp punch to the gut.
Vane blew out a breath. “Yes.”
She swallowed, but her throat felt tight. Gods, her people were burning, and suddenly, she was not only crying for them, but for this stupidity with a man who had likely killed them too.
“What happened to her?” The words came out sharper than she had intended.
Next to her, he took another audible breath. “Tell me more about your dreams.”
She had begun to shiver, both from the cold and the confusing emotions sweeping through her.
Rising from the water, she trudged back to the rocky shore.
Vane followed her, and when she tried to look away, he brushed his fingers over her chin, forcing her to see the anguish so clearly written across his features.
“You saw something,” he said roughly. “Something that bothered you.”
She blinked away the burning in her eyes and finally blurted out, “I saw you! Whatever goddess’ life I’m cursed to relive, you loved her.”
He didn’t move his hand from her face as he said, “I never stopped.”
Breath caught in her throat. “Then—why? What… You–you aren’t even mortal, Vane! Does anyone even know that?”
“Very few.”
She ripped herself away from his touch, as difficult as it was. Something was happening to her and to them—except there was no them. He was in love with this goddess who was now somehow gone from his life.
“You never said what happened to her.”
She watched from a few paces away as his jaw hardened in an effort to keep his composure. It was mostly in vain, though, because his eyes betrayed every emotion he was trying to hide.
“She died,” he said.
Soren felt a flood of shame. Just seconds ago, she had felt jealousy for this goddess he loved.
“I didn’t know a goddess could even—” But she cut herself off. It was too harsh to say aloud as he stood in front of her, hands balled into fists.
He smiled, though, even as a single tear tracked down his cheek. “Be killed? They cannot, Soren. Not truly.”
“So…she’s not dead?”
Soren.
She looked past Vane to see Thessa just behind the brush line, her eyes shining with a silvery substance. It took a moment for Soren to realize they were tears, slowly falling to the hard ground and creating small, luminescent pools.
This truth may be too much too soon.
Vane looked at Thessa, eyes narrowing, almost as if he was speaking to her. Gods, could he? It had to all come back to this goddess who haunted their lives.
“Why can’t I hear what you’re saying to her?” she said, stubbornly wiping away the cold tears tracking down her cheeks now too.
Vane’s shoulders rose and fell heavily, his eyes fluttering shut. “Perhaps Thessilnn is right. Maybe this isn’t the time.”
“The time for what?” Soren shouted in his face, pounding her hands against his chest in frustration. “Gods, I don’t understand!”
They were both breathing heavily as she stilled, her hands still splayed across his front. His eyes met hers, and he whispered hoarsely, “I thought revenge could keep me sane, and it did for a time, but I was near the brink by the time I saw you.”
“I still don’t—”
“You are my salvation, Sora. You were then, and you are now.”
She froze as she realized just what he was saying. Shock felt cold before confusion and disbelief replaced it, the emotions like a raging inferno.
She lowered her hands, numbly whispering, “That can’t be,” as she stumbled away from him. “You’re mistaken.”
He shook his head. “I did doubt it for a moment at first. After all I watched… He made me watch what they did to you. Someday, I will tear him apart piece by piece for it, but pure born gods and goddesses cannot truly die. I knew it was only a matter of time and chance that your soul was reborn into this world.”
A memory like a knife sliced clean through her: a vision of Vane on his knees, begging and screaming as they held him with glowing chains, and—
She smiled, her eyes on her husband, a single silver tear tracking down her cheek as Kronos approached. “Don’t look, my love.”
“Sora! Please. Please, kill me. No, not her, you bastard. Don’t fucking touch her—”
She gasped softly. Kronos looked down on her, his face too calm for what was occurring. It was a curtain pulled back on his madness, that he could be so serene as his hand reached directly into her chest cavity.
She was blinded by pain. Vane’s hoarse screams ricocheted off the palace walls. There was a pull and a tear, and then—
Warmth. The void was ablaze as it welcomed Death’s daughter.