Chapter 6
Chapter six
Seren
Silken spiderwebs stretched from corner to corner of the crumbling cathedral, sunlight catching on the fine strands and turning them to silver.
A rainbow of light passed through the remnants of stained glass from many years passed, turning the dusty floor pearlescent.
The chamber was so quiet one might hear the click of insects' legs as they scurried across the forlorn path.
I walked forward on silent feet, the broken beauty unmarked by my phantom steps.
A man knelt in the rubble, arms loose at his sides.
His fingertips brushed the ground, coated in dirt and soot.
Shards of broken stone pressed into his knees painfully.
Silent tears tracked down his face as he gazed upon the altar before him—snow white hair falling across his temples—and his breath fogged as the cool autumn air pressed upon him.
“Please, hear me. Goddesses, grant me guidance.”
His voice brought me back to another day—another dream—so similar to the scene before me. We had been here before. He had prayed here before.
How many times? I wondered. How many prayers have gone unanswered?
The weight of his despair was tangible, thick in the stagnant air.
He ran his fingers along the cracked altar. They came away coated in dust. He rose and drew his pristine white cloak from around his shoulders.
With careful, deliberate movements, he cleaned the stains from the Goddesses faces. He brushed debris from their stone-carved hair. He cared for them as one would a small child—as my parents had once cared for me.
“My parents should have stayed in Daikés…” He whispered. To the Goddesses? To himself? “I should have… It shouldn’t have been like this.”
He closed his pale eyes, stark blue veins visible on his lids. He squeezed them tight, and I was drawn in with him—sucked into the whirlpool of his memory.
Théo had never set foot in Daikés, he had been born in Szrestia, but he felt their memories in his bones. He tasted the stories on his tongue.
A glittering blue sea stretched endlessly to the horizon, star sand crunching beneath his toes. Lush vegetation and pink blossoming trees lined each path. Their petals floated on the breeze, falling to the ground like sweets spun by mágik.
But the image of Daikés shattered.
Graveled words reverberated through his mind. My mind.
We will claim Ordelés soon enough, Théo, and when you have helped me snuff out every paltry human soul… We will celebrate upon their ashes.
When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the forgotten church, and I was beside him once more.
“Goddesses…” I cursed, blinking hard against the dizzying feeling of sharing one mind, of seeing another’s memory—even if it was only a dream.
Théo hauled broken stone from the sanctuary, swept dust from the pulpit, and plucked broken glass from the floor, not caring that it sliced his palms. He murmured to the Goddesses all the while, but there was only silence behind his stilted breaths. “Why am I here? Why did you bring me here?”
Wind slanted through the broken windows, and Théo shivered. He looked at his cloak, abandoned on the ruined floor. The crisp white fabric was stained with dirt and blood.
The breeze shifted, and the church bells clanged a discordant melody.
Théo tracked the ivy strewn walls until he found them, swinging high above in the belfry. A set of creaking wooden stairs beckoned ominously.
“Are you there? Lunanya, Soliana, Stellány? Can you hear me?” Théo sounded so heartbreakingly hopeful.
“There is only you and me… There are no Goddesses here,” I muttered, rising on unsteady legs. But he could not hear me, and he would not have believed me if he could.
The bells rang again, clearer this time, and Théo leapt for the staircase.
I followed, though I feared I should not. When that feeling came again, the tugging in my middle—the pressure on my soul—I wished I had not.
“Please, not again,” I groaned. My head pounded to an aching drum.
But I was already gone.
When you hear the ringing of the bell, deliver their souls to us. Do not let me down, Théo.
Théo thought fighting for Acsilla meant healing their nation. He thought it meant honor. But the queen had died, and the king craved violence.
“Deliver their souls to me,” he said, and Théo did.
He summoned a slaughter.
Ordelésan blood painted the ground red.
The threads of life were vibrant, souls swelling with radiant light. He imagined what it would be like to strengthen them, to watch them glow. He plucked them like flowers from the rotting earth.
“Fuck…” I whined, pressing hard against the well of my eyes. Pain shot through them, sharp and bright. His memories crowded my mind, weighing down my head with every wobbling step.
I collapsed to the floor, sweating and shaking and numb. I wished the rubble would pierce my skin—draw blood—if only to ground me to my own body, but it was not real.
“It is not real,” I reminded myself through every panting breath.
The belfry welcomed us with empty amusement. The bells no longer chimed. They swung, silent and judging before us.
Théo leaned through the louvered windows and looked to the stars. He squeezed his eyes shut then forced them wide open. “Please… I know I am a betrayer of my heritage and my destiny. I have stolen the lives of your children, but I am here praying for mercy nonetheless.”
“They won’t answer,” I told him. “I know that better than anyone.”
I was no better than him—a betrayer of my heritage all the same.
My fellow Guardians in Ordelés would not have forgiven me for this weakness, this desire to pray to the heathen Goddesses, so I had cut it from my flesh—torn it from my heart.
Tears slipped hot over his cheeks. They fell to the altar far below. A salt sacrifice.
I felt their names on his lips. “Soliana. Lunanya. Stellány. Guide my path. Help me break the bonds of a cruel ruler. Help me bring peace to Szrestia. Goddesses, please… I was only a child. I was a child, but I can’t blame my youth anymore.
I need to make a better choice. Help me make a better choice. ”
Théo repeated the words, spilled them out into the night sky. He willed them to the heavens above, but no answer could be heard save for cricket song and the steady pound of his own heart.
“They will never answer,” I resigned, the dream fading into star-spotted mist around me.