Chapter Eleven #2
Letting it take control is out of the equation. Burning through my reduced innate source could land me in very dangerous situations. It’s my only viable defense. I’m proficient enough with small weapons, such as a dagger, but not enough to confidently defend my life.
Yet another hurdle to add to the growing track of them.
As my wings vanish in a billow of shadows, I’m left appearing entirely fae. A touch of sadness spikes through my chest. I’ve never liked hiding my wings. Not even in the hells. My wings are easily my favorite feature. No other demons, including my twin, have wings like mine.
The thought of Vaelyn causes me to wince.
I lack time to mourn our separation right now.
Shoving the feeling into the dark recesses of my being, I take the clothing from Artemise and proceed to dress myself.
The concern on my face grows as I slip on a pair of black, legging-like pants with leather reinforced knees and a black, sleeveless, close-fitting shirt.
Attire entirely different from what I’ve worn for the last twelve centuries.
“Do I not get robes?” I ask, peering down at my body as I tuck my necklace under my shirt.
Artemise chuckles, her eyes gleaming. “You have to earn your robes, my child.”
She sets a pair of tall, black leather boots and a pair of socks at my feet as I tuck the ends of my shirt into my pants. Grabbing both, I move to sit down on the bed. She watches me with a smile on her face.
“Zuriel, did he come through too?” I ask, rolling the short socks over my feet. They barely reach my ankles.
“Who?” Her head tilts with the question.
“Tall, dark skinned, three sets of wings,” I say, pulling on the boots. “A son of Gaia.”
Artemise’s brows shoot high. “No, we have not been blessed with any son of Gaia.”
My lips tighten into a frown.
Where in the nine hells did he go?
Lacing up the last of my boots, I stand and catch sight of myself in a tall standing mirror in the corner of the room. My jaw falls. I look nothing like the creature I am.
Was?
Used to be?
“Come, there are a few others I’d like you to meet.” Artemise’s voice pulls me out of my confused thoughts.
She approaches a door on the opposite side of the room and silently swings it open.
Following her into the hall, I watch her movements with interest. Artemise moves with a grace I didn’t expect from a human.
Her footsteps sound softly against the marble floor, but my own are silent.
Either because I’m fae, or demon… perhaps both.
Lifting my eyes, the marble walls are barren, it feels empty and sterile as we continue along.
Towering pillars, resembling celestial vines, reach toward the vaulted ceiling at least twenty feet above us.
As we walk, alcoves adorned with offerings to Celesta line the hall.
Decorated with subtle silver vases holding bundles of moonflowers—my lip curls with the reminder of Kassil—hanging, shimmering crystals emit a gentle glow, and wooden bowls sit filled with burning incense.
The fragrance of the incense fills the air, a blend of sandalwood and jasmine. I breathe deep, enjoying the scent. It’s musky, but it doesn’t smother me. It’s beyond pleasant to breathe deep and not be choked by the scent of smoke and sulfur.
“You’re welcome to explore the entirety of the temple,” Artemise begins, tossing me a glance over her shoulder, “but I do ask if you decide to venture into Ollora, into the city, that you take at least one other with you. It’s safer to travel in groups.”
Confusion crosses my face. “Is Ollora dangerous?”
Granted, over the course of a handful of visits throughout the centuries, Ollora had always been a peaceful city when I’d been here. And honestly, I don’t foresee many mortals being a serious threat.
Artemise laughs softly. “It’s no more dangerous than any other city in Erus,” she answers. “But you are bound to run into a fae or two who may be able to sense what you are.”
“That I am a Death Bringer?” My voice doesn’t hide my shock.
Her laughter grows louder. “No, Vestaris. Not a Death Bringer. No person will know that unless you tell them. Which I advise against.”
Person, not mortal. People don’t refer to others as mortals.
I am not people. Nor am I sure if I’m mortal. My list of things to learn continues to grow and I sigh. Artemise stops beside one of the offering altars to adjust a candle, pushing it away from the ledge it precariously stands near.
“Some fae will be able to sense the ancient blood in your veins,” she says, continuing down the hall.
Ah, she means winged fae.
Alright. Noted.
“Others will sense the power of your innate. Those given the innate of shadow are rare in Eldoterra. It used to be abundant in Erus, long ago. But not so much anymore.”
Artemise veers left into another hallway, approaching the first set of doors on the right. She pushes the door open, and it gives way with ease. A swinging door, I realize.
Following her, we enter a large dining area filled with various round tables. One human woman and three fae females sit together at a table near the far end. They chatter quietly amongst themselves, all dressed in black robes, their hoods lowered.
The four who stood at the top of the stairs.
Artemise’s Priestesses.
The human woman takes notice first, and she gestures with her chin to the sable-skinned female beside her. The female shifts in her seat, swinging her arm over the back of the chair as she turns at the waist. The other two shortly follow suit.
Artemise leads me around to the other side of the table, pulling out two chairs. She gestures for me to sit as she seats herself. I listen and take the seat.
“Vestaris, meet Eve, Cora, Opal, and Aenwyn.” Artemise gestures with an open palm to each of them as she says their name. “These four are my Priestesses. They help me run the temple. You will be spending the majority of your time with them while here.”
I give a small bow of my head but remain silent. They’re all beautiful. Shining eyes, perfect hair, welcoming smiles. Perhaps I’m staring harder than I should. I lower my eyes to the table.
The human woman, Cora, pushes a wooden bowl filled with a pale grayish matter across the table in my direction. The ice-blue eyed female beside her, Eve, watches my every movement closely.
“Are you hungry?” Cora asks, her voice soft. “I pulled this from breakfast service before it was put away. It’s yours should you want it.”
Lifting my eyes from the bowl to her face, her wavy chestnut brown hair falls to her shoulders, half of it pulled back out of her wide set blue eyes. She smiles, revealing even, human teeth.
The dark skinned fae female on her right, leans close, keeping her ice blue eyes pinned on me. “Does she even eat, Cor?” she asks, her voice low.
Cora nudges the female with her elbow. “Of course she does. What living creature doesn’t eat?”
Returning my attention to the bowl, the smell hits me—a strange concoction of sweet and earthy. My stomach twists and makes a sharp growling sound, and my face pinches with confusion.
Soft laughter rises from the table.
“I suppose that answers that,” the female smiles, leaning back in her seat.
“Your body will tell you when you need to eat.” Artemise explains pulling the bowl the rest of the way across the table and setting it before me. “Meals are served thrice daily. Breakfast at seven, lunch at one, dinner at seven.”
“We served oats with walnuts and honey this morning,” Cora smiles.
I stare at the gelatinous appearing substance. The handle of a silver spoon protrudes from the mass. I never ate in the hells. It’s not required. Eating and drinking in the hells is simply a gluttonous display of wealth and power and status—of which I had none.
“Thank you.” I find my voice as I cup the bowl in my hands.
Its warmth radiates through my palms.
Placing a spoonful of the matter in my mouth, my brows shoot high in surprise. It’s sweet, oaky, and mild with a mush-like texture that emphasizes the presence of the walnuts mixed throughout. I don’t know what I’d expected, but it didn’t look as delicious as it tastes.
“Should you have any questions about life here at the temple, Eve and Cora have agreed to be your liaisons,” Artemise says, braiding her fingers together on the table.
My eyes race to the human woman and the ice blue eyes of the fae female next to her. A small vibration tingles in my chest, stemming from my innate, but I shove it aside. My innate is going to taunt and tease me at every turn, I feel.
“I never would have thought Netharis would agree to give Celesta her daughter,” one of the other fae females says, drawing my attention to the right.
A heart-shaped face brown, almond-shaped eyes framed with blond hair stares at me. Opal, I think Artemise had said.
“A testament to the influence of our goddess.” The female on Opal’s left, Aenwyn, smiles, revealing pearly white fangs as her moss green eyes gleam with reverence.
Smothering the grimace at her open devotion to my mother, I bury the spoon into what remains of the oats and shake my head.
“Netharis did not send me,” I say, my voice quiet. “My escape from the hells was not a sanctioned endeavor.”
Shocked faces line the table.
“You may not want me here.” I stare at my hands, holding the spoon, holding the bowl. I can’t bring myself to look at them.
I shouldn’t tell them this. I should simply take advantage of the safety and protection they’re offering me silently. But, damning others, making them targets of Netharis—it doesn’t sit right. Associating with me comes with risks, and if they decide otherwise, so be it.
“Does he know you’ve come here?” Artemise asks in hushed tones.
I shake my head. “No. I made mention of Lightvale and Elias to the heir of the hells—a lie. But I don’t think it will take him long to figure out I hide under Celesta.”
Artemise purses her lips into a tight line. “No. It won’t.” She sighs.