Chapter 18
Syrena
The question seemed to still the air between them, a silence settling in the room aside from the subtle buzz of merlights.
This was something Syrena wasn’t sure she ever wanted to reveal to her sister. But once those pesky marks came into play, their hands were tied.
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze flicked toward Azarian lingering on the other side of the room, silent and watchful.
“Azarian is a witch,” Syrena admitted. “Or someone I believe the realm now refers to as a High Priest.”
Esmyra’s head reared back, eyes bulging as they flew to where Azarian stood. “Come again?”
Syrena forced herself to ease her face into a soft smile, instead of showing the annoyed scoff that ached to slip. “There’s still so much you don’t know.”
“Aye, and whose fault is that?” Esmyra shot back.
Syrena’s eye twitched as she tried to rein in her aggravation. “Your darling father’s if you would like honesty,” she growled. “There’s a reason Azarian has remained first in command all this time. And it’s not due to him being an avid warrior.”
She noted Esmyra’s eyes going distant for several seconds, as if she was speaking to Kaelypso the way she did with Naerysa.
Esmyra’s stare drifted to Azarian, her eyes trailing up the fin-like ridges on his forearms. “Were you human before?”
“Remember. You cannot lie about this. Kae will know,” Naerysa reminded her in a hiss. It seemed the goddess also noticed Esmyra appeared to be speaking to Kaelypso in her mind.
Azarian looked at Syrena, and she gave him a subtle nod.
“It’s time she knows.”
He looked back to Esmyra, whose eyes were darting back and forth between the two of them suspiciously.
“At one point, a very long time ago. But it never felt like it was where I belonged.” He paused, a long silence stretching between the three of them. “Now, we know you’ve heard of our Divine, Asyris, but are you familiar with Malya?”
Esmyra’s head tilted to the side. “Can’t say I am.”
“Of course, you aren’t. The gods are the cause of it. They erased Malya from history, just as they tried to do with us. But Malya’s demise was long before even we were betrayed,” Syrena admitted. “Asyris wasn’t always the Divine. There were once two. For light cannot rule without the dark.”
Esmyra blinked. “Like the sea.”
She’s too fucking smart.
“That’s a good way to view it,” Syrena admitted, loathing that she was putting the pieces together so easily. “The light and the dark. The surface and the abyss. It’s quite similar.”
“Indeed,” Azarian interrupted. “Malya once had a loyal following that wasn’t subject to any one kingdom. And that was where witches were bred.”
“And here I thought witches were just myths and legends,” Esmyra said.
“All legends hold truth.” Syrena crossed her arms.
Azarian gave a dip of his chin before turning back to face Esmyra.
“Indeed. Malya was picky regarding her followers. We’d have to work through several tasks to show our loyalty to her and her dark magic, essentially abandoning our kingdom’s ruling god in servitude to her.
Those who passed were granted a subtle power.
Small bits of magic mimicking Malya’s, but nowhere near as powerful.
Those who didn’t pass… well, let’s just say they never left the Underrealm. ”
“The Underrealm?” Esmyra raised a brow.
Syrena let out a low cackle. “Malya was the Goddess of Death, dear sister. She resided in the Underrealm and watched over the souls that were sent there.”
Esmyra’s eyes narrowed as her focus slowly returned to Azarian.
It sent a spark of irritation through Syrena, noting that her sister was too smart for her own good.
Kaelypso’s knowledge certainly wasn’t ideal either.
She never wanted to tell her of Malya, or Azarian’s connection to the old goddess, but if Esmyra was to go along with their plans, she knew they had to give her something.
“So how did you get your power, Azarian?” Esmyra asked with a raised brow.
“Offering our souls to Malya occurred during a sacrificial rite beneath her moon. In today’s world, we believe it is referred to as the Blood Moon. The ritual would rid our bodies of its original magic, of our fragile flesh and bones.”
“But you were human,” Esmyra interjected. “You didn’t have magic to begin with.”
Azarian gave her a coy grin. “Precisely. There wasn’t anything for me to abandon, aside from mortality. Which, who the fuck would care about that?” He let out a few wicked chuckles, and Syrena released one that matched. “Mortality is nothing but a weakness. It leads to one place. And that’s death.”
Esmyra remained silent as she watched them. A curious sadness radiating in her glacial eyes. “And what then?”
Azarian swallowed. “A war broke out among the gods. Asyris feared their sister was becoming too powerful, too out of control. So, one day, they managed to kill her, declaring themself as the Divine, holding the power of both life and death.”
Esmyra’s jaw fell open, and Syrena watched her curiously. “How do you kill… death?”
Syrena’s eye twitched. “Asyris claimed they absorbed Malya’s powers.”
“Which is exactly my plan for us, but with the sea,” Naerysa reminded her.
Esmyra audibly swallowed. “So Kaelypso and Naerysa”—she paused, her eyes going distant for a moment—“you and I… we weren’t the first gods to be killed?”
“No,” Syrena admitted. “We weren’t. Only they failed with us.”
“Malya’s followers were to be destroyed next,” Azarian said.
“But one day, Naerysa found me in hiding. She should’ve killed me the moment she realized what I was, but I offered my servitude to both sea goddesses instead.
The two of you granted me sanctuary in Maerinys, just as I offered you my aid. ”
Esmyra’s eyes narrowed. “So, you were a traitor to Irah for Malya, and then a traitor to her for us?”
Syrena’s jaw tightened in irritation.
The corner of Azarian’s lips curled, but there was no kindness in his eyes when he said, “I evaded death for centuries by then. I wasn’t about to fall to her the same way my goddess did. There was nothing else left for me. It was survive or die.”
Esmyra’s gaze swept over him, sharp and assessing.
“Rumors spread among our lovely counterparts then,” Syrena pivoted the conversation back.
“So, we decided it would be best if Azarian made himself scarce for a while. To be somewhere Asyris couldn’t find him.
We would’ve been labeled as traitors if we were found harboring one of Malya’s Cursed.
He couldn’t be found in Maerinys,” Syrena admitted.
Esmyra’s stare moved to and from each of them as they took turns telling the story, keeping quiet as she listened.
Azarian nodded. “So, in the meantime, I traveled to the other kingdoms, learning lore their gods kept secret from the others, in hopes of bringing you unmatched power.”
Esmyra’s lips parted. “And did it work?”
Syrena cleared her throat. “Well, we were executed for a reason now, weren’t we?”
“Aye. It appears so.” Her brows furrowed. “What did you mean though, by witches being what the High Priests are known as today?”
Syrena and Azarian glanced at one another, realizing they may have said too much.
“The Veil of Visions told me,” Syrena admitted. “When the gods fled this world, they mimicked what Malya had done, renaming them as priests and priestesses.”
“They live their days out in the temples in servitude to them,” Azarian added. “And with their sacrifice, they were gifted that same subtle power connecting them to their kingdom’s god.”
“And that magic is the same as yours?”
“No, it’s not.” Azarian chuckled. “My magic comes from the Goddess of Death, and with it, I have the ability to manipulate such. Hence knowing how to complete the soul bonding ritual along with the merging that took place in the crypt.”
Esmyra’s eyes slowly widened as they darted back and forth between the two of them.
He let out a sigh as he stood. “But I think that’s enough for today.”
Thank fuck, Syrena thought.
“You’ll need to stay here for a while,” Azarian continued. “Your power will get stronger as your strength returns.”
Esmyra gave him a dip of her chin, but she said nothing. Azarian then turned from them and left the room.
Now the twins were alone in the chamber as Syrena played the part of doting, worried sister.
Truthfully, the only thing she was worried about was the possibility that someone could’ve killed Esmyra before she had the chance to.
And all her power would’ve gone to waste—everything she worked for would’ve been ruined.
Syrena sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad that all made sense to you, Sister.”
Esmyra’s eyes flared suddenly, a bit of fire lighting within them. “Is his connection to Malya the same way Draevyn is connected to Irah?”
Syrena sucked in a breath through her nostrils, trying to steady her slipping patience. “No, it isn’t. Draevyn was granted a piece of Irah’s soul, not a subtle magic in servitude. He holds significantly more power than Azarian, or any High Priest for that matter.”
The rage in Esmyra’s eyes settled as quickly as it came, and she let out a low whistle. “A lot of moving pieces.”
“Indeed,” Syrena said before blowing out a breath. “Speaking of that wretched man… I need you to start from the beginning. What happened in Lephyrin?”
She was thankful her sister jumped right in, halting her pestering questions.
Esmyra spoke of how she raised The Night Wraith that had sunk several miles offshore, and her crew was nowhere to be found.
And when she arrived in Lephyrin, it was during their annual tithe, granting her access into the castle by using her shifting abilities.
She recalled killing the king, damning him for murdering her father in cold blood.
But then she paused.
Syrena sucked on her tooth. “So, where do the velsinyte bullets come into play?” It was the only thing reeling through her mind.