CHAPTER SIX
RHYAN
I hoisted Lyr up into my arms and ran, my heart practically beating through my chest. Within seconds, I reached our corner of the cave, Meera trailing behind.
“Can you light the fire?” I asked urgently. Lyr’s skin was so cold. She felt like ice in my arms. I’d only felt her body like this once before. When an akadim had thrown her onto a frozen lake, and she’d fallen in.
Meera’s stave pointed at the small flames that kept our section heated. Within seconds the fires flared, flames licking beyond the stones at its base. The cave brightened, casting dancing shadows against the walls as the air began to warm. But not enough. Not nearly enough for what she needed.
I laid Lyr down on our bed, and hastily dragged her and the blankets closer to the fire. Then I knelt beside her, removing my cloak, and wrapping it around her shoulders. I took her wrist between my fingers, checking her pulse. Normal.
I pressed my ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was fine. She was breathing. And her nose had stopped bleeding. I rolled up her sleeves, my hands sliding and searching, but there were no injuries on her arms. Wanting to make sure I didn’t miss anything, I unbuckled her belt, pushing back her tunic. No cuts or bruises on her stomach.
Meera vanished and I anxiously pushed her tunic past her breasts. The Valalumir star was glowing with a faint golden light between the bindings of her shift.
Shit.
Ever since Mercurial had tricked her into the deal, the so-called contract had been torturing her. We knew it glowed and heated when it met another Guardian for the first time, when it reunited with another reincarnation of the Gods and Goddesses who’d protected the light. It had nearly burned her from the inside out when I’d touched her bare skin that first night. Morgana, the reincarnation of Ereshya, had also caused the light to burn. Though it was Meera who had been the first one to make it happen. Four of the reincarnated Guardians’ identities had been revealed in this way. And as far we knew Lyr was Asherah, I was Auriel, Morgana was Ereshya and Aemon was Moriel. We still didn’t know for sure who Meera had been—which meant three Guardians were unidentified, and two more reincarnations were out there somewhere.
The burning and glowing only seemed to happen the first time a Guardian came in contact with her, that had been Mercurial’s explanation. But I still didn’t fully trust him, didn’t trust that he’d told us everything we needed to know. Because it didn’t just glow the first time she came in contact with me. The light shone from her heart again the first time we’d had sex. I thought it was because of how close we were, how intimate. That had been well over a week ago. The two other times we’d been together in that way, again that same night in the spring, and then here in this cave a few nights ago, it hadn’t happened.
Pulling her tunic down, I drew my cloak and blankets back to her shoulders, anxiously pushing her hair off her forehead. She looked … Fuck. She looked like she’d had a vision. But Lyr wasn’t— couldn’t be vorakh.
Gods. Please, no. Not her.
Meera returned, a small damp towel in her hands, her face contorted with worry. She sat on the other side of the bed and gently dabbed at her sister’s face, wiping away the blood. Studying her closer, I realized Meera also had a bloodied nose.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, opening my belt for sunleaves.
“I don’t know,” Meera said. “I was having a … a vision. And then suddenly, I wasn’t. It was like—” She made a sharp noise. “Like Lyr took it from me.”
I blinked. “Lyr took it from you? It looks like she just had one, too.”
Meera turned over the towel, and continued to wash the blood from Lyr with the clean side.
“Not exactly. She did have a vision,” Meera said, and seeing the look on my face, added, “But …” She took a deep breath, her eyes moving anxiously back and forth. “This is going to sound farther than Lethea, so you have to hear me out. It was my first thought, too. But I don’t believe she has a vorakh.”
But all of her sisters had one, even Jules. It made sense that Lyr would too.
Fuck. Gods, I didn’t want this for her. She had enough to deal with. She didn’t need this. Everyone I knew, everyone I’d cared about who had a vorakh, had suffered so much because of it. I couldn’t bear it for Lyr to suffer, too.
But then Meera’s words sank in. “What do you mean? What makes you think she doesn’t?”
“Because it was mine. I was having a vision. At least, I’d started to. This was unlike any of the others I’ve experienced.” Meera swallowed roughly, putting the towel aside, her eyes anxiously running over Lyr. “Whenever it happens to me, whenever I’m having one—” She bit her lip, shifting her body uncomfortably.
“What? What happens?” I prodded.
Meera took a deep breath. “When I’m having a vision, I lose track of my surroundings, and all sense of time. I can’t tell how long a vision lasts. Ever. To me they always feel like hours. But most of them are barely a few minutes long.”
I nodded, somewhat aware of this. Lyr had spent the last few years dutifully recording every vision Meera had.
“Okay,” I said slowly, absorbing her words. “So this one didn’t feel like hours?”
“No,” Meera said, her voice hard. “This one felt like actual seconds. I felt the cold wash over me like always. I stopped being able to see the cave, or hear Lyr’s voice, all the usual symptoms. And then I was in it,” she shrugged, “in an arena. The Emperor’s sigil was everywhere. And then it was over. I woke up to Lyr on top of me. And then she wasn’t. Some force pushed her back. I went to her, and her body was cold, her eyes,” she shook her head, “she couldn’t see me. She was having a vision. There’s no doubt about it.”
“So she has vorakh,” I said defeated.
“No. I don’t think she does. Because, I felt warm the second my vision stopped.”
I frowned. “Because it ended?”
“No,” Meera said. “Gods. I’m not explaining this well. See, I’m never warm after a vision ends. The way Lyr feels now? That’s how I feel for hours every time it happens. It’s only been minutes. My body temperature is already back to normal.”
I sighed. “Maybe because your vision was so short this time?”
“No.” Meera gently touched Lyr’s arm, the place beneath her sleeve where she currently wore the arm cuff hiding the time logs. “It doesn’t matter how brief they are. The cold remains the same. Every single time.” Her eyes met mine, imploring. “Except this time.”
I frowned. Her logic made sense, at least, I wanted it to, but yet, I’d never seen anything like this before. It didn’t feel like we had enough information to dismiss the idea that Lyr was vorakh. “You revealed your vorakh at the Revelation Ceremony?” I asked.
“Yes. And so did Jules,” she said uneasily. “And Morgs. Didn’t you?”
My jaw clenched. My father had secretly removed my Birth Bind months before the official Revelation Ceremony. But the vorakh was there, ready and bursting to be expressed the moment I was free. I absolutely did not want to get into the story with Meera, but I nodded. “I was there when Lyr claimed her magic. There was no vorakh then, but—I don’t know. It wasn’t a regular revelation. She had some memories of being …” I pressed my lips together, unable to finish.
My chest ached. Ever since I remembered that I was Auriel, I couldn’t say “Asherah” the same way that I had for my entire life. Because it wasn’t just a name anymore to me. Her name felt like more . Underneath all the love I had for Lyr was all the love I’d had for Asherah, the love I had for her before she was Lyriana. I could feel it now, pulsing in my heart. Layers of love, and longing, and heartbreak. Lifetimes of falling in love with her soul again and again, meeting her for the first time, and recognizing her. Knowing her. I didn’t remember the other lives yet, but I could feel them, feel their pulse running like an undercurrent through my veins, connecting us.
My heart was nearly bursting with it all.
I cleared my throat. “The night she claimed her power, she remembered being Asherah,” I said. “But it wasn’t a vision. It was a memory. Still, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a vorakh.”
Meera looked thoughtful. “I know plenty of Lumerians develop vorakh after their Birth Bind is removed. But I don’t think that’s the case with Lyr. We’ll figure out what it means.”
“I know we will.” I tried to suppress a growl of frustration low in my throat. “But I’ll feel a lot fucking better about all of this when she opens her eyes.”
“She will. She has to.”
I nodded, continuing to stroke Lyr’s hand.
Meera made a soft sound with her throat. “You know, she’s the only one whose touch ever really worked, that ever really helped me,” she said wistfully. “Every time Morgana tried to—” She looked away, her aura shaking with a sudden grief. “We always said Lyr had a healing touch. But this time, she really did. The vision didn’t just stop. All my symptoms were taken away, too.” She shook her head, as if in disbelief. “I’ve never felt like this after. It takes hours to feel even remotely recovered. Hours to feel warm again.”
A healing touch?
Something began to stir in the back of my mind as her words sank in. A memory that I couldn’t pinpoint, or even fully recall. I couldn’t quite decipher if it was from this life or Auriel’s. There were moments lately when it all felt muddled. When my timelines felt confused.
“What if she didn’t take the vision from you?” I asked slowly, my idea barely formed.
“What do you mean?”
“What if she healed you?” I started to sift through lines of the Valya my mother had made me memorize as a boy. “Canturiel created a light so beautiful and valiant, it shone day and night. The Valalumir, he named it. Every color of the rainbow could be seen inside, brighter than anything Heaven could hide.”
Meera frowned.
I continued, “It never burned those who touched, nor blinded those who stared. Such was its beauty, the sun felt less fair … it offered heat, but did not burn … restored love, and one’s will ….”
“It removed harm from those hurt, and restored health to the ill,” Meera finished. Her eyes widened. “Lyr has part of the Valalumir inside her now.”
I nodded, my heart pounding as my dream the other night returned. Asherah had died. Asherah had sacrificed herself, healing Auriel. Healing me after the final battle. “The star in her chest was glowing when I arrived. What if … what if when she touched you, she healed you of your vision?” I asked.
“By the Gods. That would be amazing, but look at her.” Meera shook her head frantically. “If you’re right, I don’t think she’s simply healing. Not in a way where she can make the pain disappear. The energy of the thing can’t just vanish. Everything that ever existed still exists,” she said slowly. “According to the Valya, nothing that ever will exist hasn’t already been created. So, the vision and its symptoms didn’t go away. They still had to be expressed, the vision still had to be seen. So to heal me, she took it on herself.”
My stomach dropped. I’d been taught the same philosophies. Nothing new was ever created. Nothing ever destroyed. But the way she was healing, taking it on … I didn’t fully remember all the details yet, but this was starting to feel too close to what had happened before. Asherah had taken on other’s suffering, carrying power and light too big for her mortal body to sustain. Healing Auriel, absorbing his injuries and wounds into herself. And dying. I bit down on my lip, the backs of my eyes burning. Because Meera was right—according to the Valya, my tutors and the scrolls I’d studied—everything that existed would always exist.
Goddesses never die. That’s what Mercurial had told her. And if we were right, then Lyr wasn’t vorakh … but in this moment, she might as well have been. Because she was suffering as greatly as if she were.
Meera leaned forward, tucking the blankets around Lyr’s feet, making sure she didn’t lose any more body heat.
“I should have thought of that,” I said.
But Meera waved me off. “You’re doing a really good job, Rhyan. I see the way you take care of her. You should know, I really appreciate it.”
My throat constricted. “Thanks.”
She gestured to the blankets. “Lyr always did that for me. And it always helped.”
I nodded, tucking her in even tighter on my side.
“She’s lucky to have you looking out for her,” Meera said.
I frowned, my heart heavy as I watched Lyr’s chest rise and fall beneath the blankets. “I’m the lucky one.”
Meera smiled in response, then her face fell as her gaze returned to her sister.
“You know, I’m glad you’re here, too,” I said quietly. A tentative friendship had been building between us the past week. One that came with an awareness that it was our situation bringing us together, nothing more. But the friendship was budding all the same.
Moments passed, my anxiety growing until Lyr’s fingers finally twitched and moved against mine. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. I let out the breath I was holding and squeezed her hand, leaning closer so she could see my face.
“Hey, partner,” I said, my voice gruff with emotion. “You’re awake.”
Lyr blinked rapidly, her beautiful hazel eyes taking me in and then seeing Meera by her side. “How long was I out?”
She squeezed my hand in return, almost as if testing her own strength. She’d squeezed my hand a hundred times before. But never with this much force—this much power. It was almost painful. She didn’t know her own strength yet now that her magic was restored. It didn’t matter. She could squeeze my hand as hard as she wanted. She could fucking break it for all I cared. I was glad to feel it. It meant she was okay. It meant she was stronger than what had just happened.
“Not long. Just a few minutes,” Meera said, her voice shaking. “Lyr? Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Lyr said, her voice shaky. “I think I …” Her cheeks reddened.
“Had a vision?” Meera offered.
She looked away, her lips pressed together. Her panic was rising, her fear of being vorakh. “Yes. Does this mean—by the Gods, am I—”
“No,” I said quickly, wanting to reassure her. “At least, we don’t think you’re vorakh. We’ve been putting the pieces together while you rested. Meera thinks you took on her vision.”
Lyr started to sit up. Quickly I moved my hand to support her lower back, and could feel her shivering.
“Still cold?” I asked.
“Freezing.”
“Sit with me,” I said, shifting closer to the fire and pulling her onto my lap. I drew my cloak around the two of us. Lyr needed more body heat, but I didn’t get the impression that stripping in front of Meera was going to go over well. Settling her between my legs, I whispered in her ear, “Hold the cloak closed in front of you.” She did and I used the opportunity to slide my hands inside her shirt, wrapping my arms around her, giving her as much skin-to-skin as I could. She melted against me, sighing under her breath.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now tell me how exactly I took Meera’s vision.”
“Well to start,” Meera said, “we’re not even sure it was you. We think it was the light of the Valalumir inside you. It has the power to heal.”
Lyr stiffened against me. “And you think that healed you?”
“Not completely. Just this once, but yes, I think so. Rhyan does, too. Our best guess is that the healing properties of the light allowed you to take it onto yourself. After you touched me, my vision stopped instantly, and I was warm. I’m never warm after. You know that.”
“True,” Lyr said slowly. “And I’m still cold. But not from you. I know how that feels.” She shivered. “Or I thought I did. Gods. Meera, I’d felt your cold before, but it was never this intense. Is this always how it felt for you?” Her voice shook.
Meera smiled gravely.
I wondered how cold Lyr had been in the past few years by simply being near Meera, and felt rage boiling inside me. For so long she’d had to deal with this alone. I’d seen firsthand the wounds she’d had to dress by herself. I didn’t realize there was another layer of suffering to what she’d endured.
“It’s okay,” Meera said. “I know what to expect each time. At least, usually I do.”
“But the light was in me the last time you had a vision,” Lyr said. “And I didn’t heal you then, or take your vision on.”
“The light was there,” I said, “but your magic wasn’t. Maybe that activated it.”
“Maybe. Okay,” Lyr said. I could see her mind beginning to accept our words, to rationalize and find the logic behind it as she always did. “Let’s say that’s the explanation.” She shifted in my lap. “How do we know it was your vision that I had? And not my own?”
“Well, was this what you saw?” Meera asked. “An arena filled with the Emperor’s sigil?”
Lyr nodded. “Yes.” Her voice was quiet. Too quiet.
“What happened, Lyr?” I asked. “What else did you see?”
She took a deep breath, thinking for a moment before she said, “I was in the Nutavian Katurium. In the capital. There were three wolves in the arena chasing me.”
I tensed, my blood boiling. “Ka Kormac?” I growled, completely unable to hide my fury.
“No. Actual wolves.” Lyr stilled, her hand on my arm suddenly tightening. “But … Gods.” She moved again, agitated. “Your visions are always symbolic, Meera? Right? I think that’s who they were. The three wolves. The Bastardmaker, the Imperator … and the Emperor.”
Meera looked worried. “What else happened, Lyr?”
“I thought they were going to kill me. I had no weapons, just an old shield I found.” She paused. “It came out of nowhere. It was ancient-looking, round and bronze. Just there on the field.”
Something stirred inside me. A memory. I felt the ghost of a shield in my hands. Large, heavy. And just as quickly as it appeared, the thought was gone.
“So, I ran, and then …” Her shoulders shook and I tightened my hug, pulling her even closer to me. “A lion entered the arena. It went after the wolves, trying to attack. But they caught it.” She trembled. “They … they tore the lion apart.”
I ran my hands up and down her sides. Her aura was pulsating now with distress and grief.
“A lion?” I asked. “If the wolves were Ka Kormac, then, who does the lion represent? Do you know any Kavim with lions on their sigils?”
“No,” Lyr said. “The lion didn’t represent a Ka.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Not what. Who.” Lyr shuddered. “I recognized the lion’s eyes.” She looked at Meera. And then, with a small, shaking voice, asked, “Do you remember her hair? I used to call it her lion’s mane when we were little. In my vision, it was red. Batavia red. Remember the way she’d been lit up by the eternal flame in Auriel’s Chamber? Remember how she looked? Just before? The lion had her hair at that moment. And I heard her voice in my head, for the first time in two years.”
Meera’s eyes searched hers, rapidly jumping back and forth before she cried out.
“By the Gods,” I said, the puzzle clicking into place for me, too.
“The lion was Jules.” Lyr’s voice broke. “She’s at the capital. I know it beyond a doubt. And she’s being torn apart.”
We’d suspected as much after Morgana revealed that Lumerians arrested for vorakh were taken and then enslaved there. The Emperor and Lumeria’s most elite nobility were siphoning off their power, using it for their own benefit. We’d guessed she was being kept in the capital, close to the Emperor. But this felt like the confirmation we’d needed to make our next move.
“There’s something else,” Lyr said. “There were two lights that scared everyone in the audience. One was indigo. The other orange.”
“Moriel and Ereshya,” I said. Aemon and Morgana. Well, that was just fucking perfect.
Lyr nodded. “They’re going after Jules, too.”