Chapter Six
T he temple, hidden underground and remaining oddly preserved, was beautiful.
As Gray and I explored it, slipping effortlessly into a childlike giddiness, we left no stone unturned, studying the pillars, illegible scribbles, altars, and half-filled pools.
It was a fitting last day for us. A day of highs I know both he and I will cling to after Gray leaves. And as it draws to a close, we attempt to squeeze out the last remnants of joy the fleeting hours can offer.
Lying on a blanket beneath the crumbling remains of my favorite ruin, a sole lantern our only source of light, Gray and I consume the night sky through the exposed domed roof while waves crash against the sandy shore in the background and the breeze hums through the grass.
I stare up at the glittering sky, feeling a sense of longing in my chest. Though, for what exactly, I’m not sure. “Tell me a story.”
He glances at me, surprised. “It’s been ages since I’ve done that. I think the last time was…”
“It was two years ago,” I finish for him. “When I had a night terror that kept me from sleeping.”
“That’s right,” he murmurs. “Well, what story would you like? One of love? Of heartbreak? Perhaps of heroism or great betrayal?”
“Tell me a story about a beginning, so I won’t focus on an ending.” My voice sounds like nothing more than a soft note in a sad melody.
Gray turns to me, his eyes soft as his face fills with understanding. “Alright,” he agrees. “How about the story of Morwenna?”
I bite down, a laugh on my lips. “Remind me who she is again?”
Gray shakes his head, amused. “You really didn’t ever pay attention in our lore and mythology studies, did you?”
“It’s why I always cheated off you whenever Sterling gave us an assignment,” I coo.
He rolls his eyes, his smile soft. “I’ll never understand why you find such little interest in the lore of our lands.”
I stretch my arms above my head. “I have my reasons. Plus, there’s a lot to keep up with. I pick and choose as I please.”
“I’m sure you do,” he mutters with an arched brow. But ultimately, Gray draws in a breath and begins the story.
“Long, long ago, the gods frequently visited the mortal realm. A goddess, Morwenna, Daughter of the Moon and goddess of water, favored a mortal girl who would sit on a moonlit shoreline and sing. Morwenna, wide-eyed and full of jubilance, loved to dance. She would twirl across the sparkling veil of the sky to the mortal girl’s song.
As she danced, it was said her eyes would swell with joyous tears that trickled from the horizon like scattered raindrops. ”
A helpless smile breaks free while I stare at the colored stars, listening.
I’ve never told Gray how much I love it when he tells me stories. How he’s always been able to soothe any restlessness within me when he does.
“One day, as Morwenna danced fervently to a song of great beauty, her tears slipped from her eyes like a gentle stream. For that night, the mortal girl sat perched on a stone overlooking the sea and sang out a ballad for the one she loved, hoping her beloved would soon return to her.
“Morwenna, stricken of the heart, was moved far greater than she had ever been, and she lost herself to her dance—to the song that became known as the Ballad of the Tides. And as her tears landed atop the mortal girl’s head, the moon stirred, and the tides shifted.
For unknowingly, the mortal girl had suddenly been kissed by the passion of the Daughter of the Moon, resulting in her hair turning stark white beneath the moon’s glow.
“Curious by the shift in the sea, the girl reached her fingertips out to it, swearing she heard the tides singing back to her, responding to her song. The mortal girl never expected the sea would listen to her—that she would move the very water crashing to shore, forever changed by Morwenna’s fallen tears. ”
Gray looks away from the sky and down at our interlaced fingers.
I’m not even sure when I reached for his hand.
“And that,” he murmurs softly. “Is the story of how the first water-wielder came into existence.”
An inexplicably sad feeling begins to form in my chest, but I drown it before it can ever know life. Yet I feel Gray watching me—can sense the sudden heaviness hanging in the air between us.
I squeeze his hand. “What is it?”
He looks at me, and his expression splits apart slowly—like the first cracks in fracturing ice. “I’m not sure if I can do it,” he whispers. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to.” He lifts himself from the blanket, dropping his head in defeat.
I sit up and place a comforting hand on his arm. “All great things must end eventually. Even if we’re not ready to let them go.”
Gray turns his chin over his shoulder, meeting my gaze. “But why? Why must good things end simply because they are good?”
I’m not sure if I smile or frown at him. My lips move in an attempt to smile, yet my heart aches in the way it would when accompanying a frown.
To see the world through Gray’s rose-colored eyes .
“Because if things were good forever, then the world would be a paradise. And sadly, Gray, this world is not paradise.”
He leans his forehead against mine, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the emotion attempting to crawl up my throat, swallowing it back into the abyss from which it came.
“If I stay, we could make it one,” he breathes. “You and me, Lyra. We can carve out our own paradise.”
What I want to say back to Gray is simple: I am blood-bound to the king, forced to serve him for the rest of my life. You are a Nightenjoy who has his whole life in front of him. There is no paradise here for us, because this world is cruel, and you won’t find your idyllic end within it.
Yet instead I force my lips to forgo their confusion and smile, even if they protest, claiming sadness has told them they wish to frown.
I lift my fingers to Gray’s cheek and reply in a falsely promising voice, “Someday, perhaps. But for now, you do not miss your opportunity to become something great.”
Gray pulls his forehead back from mine, his gaze holding steady. “I will come back for you. Whether it’s a year from now or five, I will not leave you behind.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “I know you will,” I say to him, my voice a shade more than a whisper. “And I will count down the days until you return.”
Gray looks as though he is about to speak when a smudge of rosy color materializes in the charcoaled sky, reorienting our attention. The glossy pink expands and morphs into glowing rods composed of teal and turquoise.
It is the Great River of Light.
Gray shifts his gaze from the sky onto me, and he slowly lays back down, stretching out his arm beside him—a silent invitation.
One I gladly accept, taking my place nestled into his side.
We lay in silence, watching the dancing colors zip through the inky blotches of night. Regal blues undulate into jade and lilac as dazzling whites soar through the sky. They move and flow as freely as I imagine Morwenna did as she danced across a glittering horizon.
And for the briefest moment, it almost feels like everything might be okay.
Until a loud crack of magic erupts through the air, and a swirling portal of black and silver opens across from us.
The horses, spooked by the sudden outburst of magic, protest and stomp, and Gray and I scramble upright. He steps in front of me, instinctually shielding me with an outstretched arm.
Klytis, the king’s resident aether-wielder—a type of magic that allows a wielder to create portals to and from places—appears.
“There you are,” he says, breathless. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”
My brows scrunch together while Gray takes a step forward. “Why?”
“The king decided to entertain tonight. He called for Lyra, but when she did not come, he lost his mind . He sent me to find her. She….” He exhales a long and heavy sigh. “Well, she’s been summoned.”
My stomach plunges into a free fall as fear, the resilient spider, keeps crawling into my chest no matter how aggressively I try to keep it down.
Gray turns to look at me, his eyes already filling with a mix of horror, apology, and regret. I know he will blame himself, even if I don’t blame him in the slightest.
How do you teach a wolf who’s never been hunted to suddenly think like a sheep? You can’t.
But I know better. I shouldn’t have acted as though I have such freedoms—I have no true freedom.
Klytis drags out a long breath. “We should go. The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”
I nod my head, glancing at the horses. “What about them?”
Klytis jerks his chin at Gray. “He can bring them back to the stables.”
“No,” Gray counters with a level of force that catches me off guard. “I am coming with her.”
Klytis arches a brow. “That…is not a very good idea.”
Gray folds his arms in protest. “I don’t care. I’m the reason Lyra is being summoned, so I am coming with her.”
Klytis opens his mouth as if to argue further, but just as quickly snaps it shut, clearly thinking better of entering a verbal tiff with the son of Sterling Nightenjoy, who’s nicknamed the wielder of cunning words for a reason. “Very well,” he concedes. “I’ll take care of the horses.”
He throws out his hand, and a portal of swirling black and silver appears. “But for the love of the gods, when your father asks you what the hell you were thinking, please make sure to mention that I tried to talk you out of this.”