Chapter Thirteen #3
“I imagine some may have called them such. They would grow fins—not like a lamaea—” He grinned, and a hint of the dimple appeared. “Their fins were in the right places, but their bloodline also faded out before the war.”
Was it a coincidence that Ian had written a story about two children befriending some water folk? I’d thought it nothing more than a figment of his imagination. But maybe he had discovered the ceeren.
“How did they die?”
“There’s a lot of debate surrounding that one. Some of the older Atlantians say it’s because they fell into a depression once Saion went to sleep, losing their will to live. Others believe that through generations of intermingling with other bloodlines, there simply were no pure ceeren left.”
“I hope it was the latter,” I said, even though that was a weird thing to hope for. “Them dying off because of a god going to sleep is far too sad.”
“That it is.” Casteel turned the page. “You should find this interesting.” He dropped his finger to the middle of the page. “Senturion.”
I refocused. “What is that?”
“A general term for multiple, old bloodlines who were warriors born and not trained.” He placed his hand beside mine.
“There were dozens at one time, each line marked by their own special talents that made them dangerous to face in combat. Many of the warrior lines died out hundreds of years before the Ascended.”
“How?”
“All kingdoms are built from blood. Atlantia is no different,” he explained. “The war that ended most of the warrior lines started with an uprising of elemental against the ruling line.”
Remembering what Kieran had told me, I said, “The…the deities?”
“Someone has been talking with you.”
“Kieran told me about some of them, but I don’t understand. He made it sound like the deities held unquestionable authority—that they were the children of the gods and created the elementals.”
“I’m sure Kieran would say that.” He snorted.
“But, yes, they created the elementals and most of the warrior lines, but there always comes a time when the creation seeks to rise above the creator. The elementals and several of the other lines orchestrated a massacre, managing to kill several deities, which I imagine wasn’t entirely easy.
A few of the warrior lines sided with the elementals, and some with the deities.
The war didn’t last as long as it did with the Ascended, but it was far more destructive.
In the end, nearly all the deities had been slain, entire bloodlines were gone, and a deity still maintained the throne until he was finally cast aside and killed—this time for reasons that went beyond my ancestors deciding they were better fit to rule. ”
“And what was that?”
“I’ve already told you why, once before.” He inclined his head when I glanced up at him. “He created the first vampry.”
“King Malec? He was a deity?”
Casteel nodded.
Good gods, that meant that Casteel’s mother had been married to a deity? “Had he been alive since the beginning? Or was he a descendent of the line?”
“He was the child of two ancient deities.”
I gave a shake of my head, feeling as if my brain would implode. That didn’t stop me from asking more questions. “What kind of talents did these warriors have?”
The dimple deepened as he said, “Some were able to use the earth in battle—summon the wind or rain. They were of the primordial line. Others could call upon the souls of those who were slain by the one they fought. The one listed near the top?” His pinky brushed mine, sending a shock of energy I hadn’t felt when one had passed to Kieran.
“Pryo? They could summon fire for their blades. Underneath that is one of the cimmerian line?”
His pinky slid over mine as I stared at the word written in ink too faded for my eyes. I nodded.
“They could call upon the night, blocking out the sun and leaving their foe blind to their movements.”
“All of that…all of that sounds too fantastical,” I admitted as his finger traced the line of mine, sending a wave of awareness through me.
“It would, but so are wolven to a lot of mortals.” He had a point there. “And I imagine so are empaths.”
“Empaths?”
“A warrior bloodline that died off shortly after the war, but these were even more unique, Poppy. The ones everyone dreaded to face in battle.” His fingers slid over mine, and I looked up at him.
“They were favored by the deities, as they were the only ones who could do what the empaths could—read the emotions of others and then turn that into a weapon, amplifying pain or fear. Sending an army running before a sword was even lifted.”
My breath caught.
“This is the bloodline I believe you’re descended from, Poppy.
Or at least what I’ve been thinking.” His hand returned to the desk.
“Empath warriors. It’s the only one that makes sense.
A few could’ve been lost in Solis, unable to return to Atlantia at the end of the war and therefore presumed dead.
One of them at some point could’ve met a mortal, years and years later, or the child of two of them did, creating either the first generation that gave birth to you or—”
“Or one of my parents was…was an empath warrior.” Stunned, I was unable to move. “Did they have a certain eye color? Because I don’t have gold or hazel eyes.”
“No. Yours are the color of an Atlantian spring—of dew-kissed leaves.”
I blinked.
Casteel looked away, clearing his throat. “Anyway, the warrior bloodlines had no specific distinguishing traits.”
Then my mother or father could’ve been one, or the child of them. “Is it possible that Queen Ileana or King Jalara were so close to them and had not known?”
“It is possible. But they would have known what the Ascended were if they were an empath warrior.” Bracing his weight on his hand, Casteel dipped his head so we were almost at eye level.
“So, I think they were first-generation. And like you, didn’t understand why they couldn’t sense emotions from the Ascended. ”
“But I can’t use it as a weapon or anything like that.”
“The abilities change once mortal blood is introduced.” His gaze flickered over my face.”
“How did they die?” I asked, and then immediately realized the answer. “They couldn’t use their abilities against the Ascended, could they?”
“Either because they couldn’t sense emotion or didn’t know how to. They were still exceptional fighters. It would explain your almost natural talent with weapons.” His voice softened. “Bolder and braver than any of the other lines.”
My gaze fell to the faded ink. Empath warriors.
Could it be that I was descended from a bloodline so powerful they could take out an army before a battle even began?
One favored by the children of the gods?
Could it be that I was a part of this bloodline?
It sounded right. It felt like a final puzzle piece being found.
It felt right . The corners of my lips tipped up, and I smiled.
“Beautiful,” Casteel whispered.
Startled, my eyes flew to his. The moment our gazes connected, I couldn’t look away.
His head was so close to mine, his mouth even closer—close enough that if I tilted my head and leaned in an inch or two, our lips would touch.
My heart started pounding. Did I want that?
Did I not want that? I didn’t move to put space between us. My eyes began to drift closed—
Casteel moved back, his head turning to the door. He slid off the desk just as a fist sounded. “Come in.”
Naill entered, hand on his sword. “One of the watchers signaled that we have company, coming from the western roads.”
“Who?” Casteel demanded.
“The Ascended.”