Chapter 1 #2
“It was not reversed per se, but corrected. See, the gods tracked down the enchanter who crafted Blythe’s prophecy and familiarized themselves with the specifics of its terms. When they learned of you, they declared that protecting you would be a priority, as you were the only solution for their wrongdoing.
You were—are—the only piece of Blythe left. ”
“Damn.” I scratched my head, and for a moment, forgot who I was speaking to. “The gods will be totally fucked if I die.”
“Erm…For lack of better words, yes. They would be totally fucked. Hence Lumosia.”
Removing his hands from his pockets, Archer pushed off the wall and stepped a few paces towards the rounded window, drawing the curtains and allowing beaming, orange rays into the room.
“They built this kingdom from scratch the year of your birth, then placed me here as its ruler. They knew that I was one of the few who could be trusted with such a responsibility, as I would do anything to protect my children.”
Pulling my knees onto the bed, I pivoted my entire body towards his new location in a single maneuver.
“How is a hidden kingdom that I’ve never even heard of protecting me?
I mean, no one has heard of it. It doesn’t exist. Not in a single textbook or manuscript is the Kingdom of Lumosia mentioned. It’s not on any map or globe.”
Archer peered over the bridge of his nose. “Exactly—that is the whole point. The gods built this kingdom as a safe haven for you to turn to when your transition occurred.”
I held a hand up, closing my eyes for a moment to recenter myself. “So let me get this straight: the gods built a hidden kingdom, ruled by an ex-ghost, to keep me out of harm's way?” Sarcasm twisted my words. “Hate to break it to you, but I almost died more than once in the past month alone.”
“The gods will not interfere with the balance of life and death, and on the off chance they do, someone will pay for it. The fact that you survived what you did is pure luck. And I was never a ghost, Maeve. I never died. I have been here ever since the war against Draemor.”
My eyeballs almost burst behind my eyelids from how tightly I blinked.
“And you didn’t think to fucking write?” I snapped, my eyes popping open. Breathing heavily, I jumped to my feet and marched to meet him at the window. “This is absolutely fucking insane,” I muttered, my breath creating a fog on the dewy glass.
“I see you got your mother’s mouth.” Archer chuckled. “I know how it sounds. Trust me, I know. But think about it. Was there ever a grave for you to visit? It was never confirmed that I died, it was only assumed. My body was never recovered.”
That was the truth. There was no headstone or memorial for him. We never had an urn full of his ashes. All we had was the fact that he didn’t come home one day. We grieved silently without a body to mourn.
“So you’ve just been…here? This whole time? Were you actually even in the war?”
Questions were my only means of expressing what I tried to comprehend behind the walls of my skull. My brain was completely overworked by attempting to trust the claims I was being fed.
You let your mistrust of yourself and others get in the way of your excellence. I hope that with what’s to come, you are able to relieve yourself of that agony.
That was what Blythe had said to me. I didn’t understand at the time, but just like that, it made perfect sense.
Archer’s response interrupted my revelation. “I began fighting in the war, but was brought here in the midst of it. Over time, others who were carefully selected to aid in your safety have been brought here, as well.”
“Selected by who?”
“The gods and myself. Until your arrival and the consequential dropping of the wards, the only ones permitted to enter Lumosia were those brought beyond its bounds by myself. Aside from the original civilians chosen by the gods, all those who reside here have been personally welcomed by me.”
“Okay…but how did you get here? How do you even know all of this?” My suspicion and doubt could not be mistaken.
“The gods,” he said simply, the two words acting as the answer for both of my questions.
I wrapped a loose strand of my hair around my forefinger, twirling it around the knuckle in an anxious release.
Archer’s expression softened. “You used to do that when you were a baby. You would fall asleep with your thumb in your mouth and your other hand twirling your hair. One time, you wrapped it so tight that your finger turned purple. Margot nearly broke down, terrified it would have to be removed.” A soft chuckle fell from his lips.
Heedless to the nostalgia, my hands fell to the window sill. The crisp wood beneath nearly splintered as I gripped it, squeezing with my fingertips until my knuckles paled.
I was not trying to appear apathetic, but every fiber of my being screamed with caution—a warning of stranger danger from my childhood that I never quite grew out of.
Although technically speaking, this was no stranger. The man before me was responsible for half of my being.
“The gods? You really expect me to believe all of this?” I prattled off my skepticism, choosing to close off the other unwelcome thoughts.
The gods never allowed themselves to be seen by mortals. Except for Blythe, of course, but that was an entirely unique situation. And that wasn’t even truly Blythe. That was her soul, somehow configured into a sparkly, three-dimensional form.
“Whether you believe it or not, it is the truth. I was seconds away from being a dead man at the hand of a Draemornian when I was transported out of the situation. In fact, I thought that I was dead—everything around me went pitch black, and my body revolved at an incomprehensible pace. But then, I found myself on the footsteps of a white, marble palace. The very palace that you are in right now.” He laid a hand on top of mine, the tension in my fingers easing in response.
“At the top of the steps, staring down at me, were seven of the eight gods and goddesses. Caius, Emrys, Eloise, Thea, Jesper, Sloane, and Zenith all stood there, welcoming me into the kingdom they had created for you.”
For some reason, the roughness of his palm granted me a sense of trust, and instead of fighting it, I allowed the feeling to have space within me. I wanted to ask what they looked like. What their voices sounded like. Did they speak our language? But I had more dire questions.
“So they transported you out of death itself? I thought they refused to mess with the balance of life and death, and if they did, someone had to pay the price.” He literally just said that.
“You know, for the longest time I have wondered the same exact thing. But just recently I realized that someone did pay for this balance.”
“My mother?” I inquired, though the answer was obvious.
“Yes. Your mother,” Archer confirmed softly. “Life and death must always balance each other out, and since I was spared from death to protect you, she paid the price. Years later, but still.”
Out of all those who had died because of me, for obvious reasons, this one stung the most.
My palms scraped down my face, trying to remove the prickle of heartache emulating from my stinging nose as I fought the urge to cry.
I distracted myself with another question. “Was it you who saved me from the castle?”
Archer nodded. “When they placed me here, the gods made sure to inform me of everything I needed to know in regard to you and the battle. I knew when it would begin and when your transition would occur. I couldn’t interfere until the transition was complete, but when the castle started to fall, which I surely wasn’t expecting, I pulled you from the rubble.
I met your friends at the end of the tunnel by sheer coincidence, and took them along. ”
“I’m not so sure that anything truly happens by coincidence.”
“Smart girl.” A grin broke free from Archer's tensed lips.
“Anyway, I’ve been sitting on this information for two decades, and it's been absolute torture. But knowing I would see you and your sister again,” he hung his head, a few tears spilling off the slant of his pointed nose, “has made the wait bearable.”
My formerly empty stomach filled with acidic nausea. I shuffled back towards the bed, my legs suddenly much too weak to continue standing upon. “What about Mom?”
“What about her?”
“Weren’t you hoping to see her again, too?”
“Of course. But I knew the possibility of being with Margot again was slim. I figured she would have moved on since my death—at least I hoped she would. Therefore, I had to move on as well.”
“She never did.” I sniffled, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “She never moved on. Never went on so much as a date with another man.”
Delani and I had often tried to convince our mother to date, but she always said that she had her once in a lifetime love, and even though their time together was short, that love was more than enough.
Archer’s despondent apology was only a mumble to me, thanks to the ringing in my ears.
Gods. I actually wanted to puke now just to relieve the horrific qualm in my stomach.
“Until your arrival, Lumosia has been warded by the gods. Only those who were originally welcomed in by one of the deities, or were brought in by myself, could find the land.”
I forced reality to return.
“Wards? You mean to say that a few iron fences and a gate kept people away?” An audible scoff escaped me.