Chapter 56
EMMELINE
Hurrying down the spiral stairs, I focused entirely on my surroundings. Far beneath the oppressive obsidian fortress the Myriad had built, I used each of my senses to search for the font. When Rain and I had drunk from it, bonding our souls together under the Supreme’s watchful gaze, I’d been soothed by my ability to access my divinity. Perhaps that was only possible in proximity to the divine, life-giving waters. If I could access that deep well of power Hanwen had gifted me, maybe I could stop the Supreme—for good.
Before utilizing Veda’s home, Rain and I had tried to pinpoint the spot where the font bubbled up from a crack in the ground, but it had been too long since our visit, and we were too uncertain about the location to rift. We’d failed, and run out of time. But, considering Veda’s husband planned to leave the next day, it was a good thing we pressed forward. Whatever the Supreme planned, he’d do it tonight.
Now though, as my fingertips trailed along the damp, stone walls, I wished we’d tried harder. Fear and something more insidious crept through me, whispering and watchful.
I had no intention of finding the Supreme and the child—not yet, anyway. I wanted to find the antler god’s tomb.
While part of me thought to hide nearby, lying in wait for the Supreme, another wanted to do more. Why allow the man who had done nothing but destroy and deceive to have a chance at raising the god?
Why not do it myself?
I carried the Supreme’s bones in a pouch around my neck, unbeknownst to my husband, and my own blood pumped furiously through my veins. But without the bloom of the betrayer, was there anything I could do? And more importantly, did I want to? Was it possible to raise Iemis, use his divine power to stop the Supreme and Nereza, and then lock him back within the obsidian tomb?
I knew I shouldn’t try, especially without speaking to Rain. But gods, was the idea tempting.
The antler god was a danger I could not risk. The wars he had waged might have been fueled by vengeance in the beginning, but by the end, no one was safe from his ire. Even Rhia, the goddess he loved, had suffered his rage. All that Iemis had done was sow discord and destruction. Even after his entombment, despite Rhia appointing the forestborn as the Wardens of the font, the damage had been done. Conduit stood against forestborn and seaborn alike, and ordinary humans, untouched by the divine, were left to weather the endless storm.
I wondered if things might have been better when the gods walked these lands—at least before Iemis forged his path of ruin. So many things had changed since the gods lived amongst us. Gone was the large pond that Rhia had rested beside while maintaining her mournful watch over her former lover’s tomb. Lush greenery and tall trees no longer stood silent sentry nearby. The font had nearly dried up, reduced to a slow trickle branching outward from a single bubbling source. The Myriad had changed nearly everything about this land since the time of the elven Warden. The forestborn had once thrived within the shelter of Lamera’s enormous trees—elves and fae alike.
And now all of that was gone.
The font had been a wellspring of life in Rhia’s memories. Brimming with moonfish and large enough to bathe in, it was a far cry from the trickling stream the Myriad had allowed it to become. But my own experience, when I drank and bound my soul to Rain’s, was everything I could have hoped for. Wistfully, I recalled that moment even as I continued down the endless spiral path into darkness. But the soft burble of water wasn’t only present in my thoughts.
I’d found the font. Which meant Iemis’s tomb must be close.
Pausing at the bottom of the steps, I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust. Because the staircase Rain and I had taken before was a different one, I didn’t know exactly where I was.
In the distance, the candlelit pathway from my memories twinkled like summer fireflies. If I wasn’t turned around, that meant the bubbling font we’d drank from was somewhere in between.
So where was Iemis’s tomb?
There was no sign of the Supreme, and my divinity sang within me. I wanted to use it, to hold my divine fire in my palm. To use my shadows to penetrate the cracks in the walls. To make the earth tremble and destroy this entire building. Or the entire city.
Perhaps if the Supreme and I both died, entrapped within an obsidian tomb of my making, there would be no future like Cyran had been shown. But how could I be certain the Supreme even was the Accursed? Perhaps that was the favor he sought from Iemis.
Startling, I whipped to face the low rumbling sound to my left, only barely stopping myself from summoning my divinity.
“The girl fell asleep on my lap,” the Supreme’s voice called—warm and almost friendly. It was unsettling how different that voice sounded to me, now that I knew what he was capable of. “Come and fetch her, would you, dear?”
A thin sliver of light emanated from what I thought was the cavern wall. Soft and blue-green, it was reminiscent of the pond from Rhia’s memories. Cautiously, I approached. The Supreme would hand the child to me, and then what?
I’d take her away from this place, certainly, but could I find Rain and come back before the Supreme did whatever he planned to do?
“Come, now. My legs are getting tired, and I can’t exactly carry her now.”
Because my dragon bit your arm off, you deranged ass, I thought. My heart hammered in my chest, and I did my best to soothe its wild beat. My ability to listen to heartbeats had always been like breathing, and the ability to coax and soothe the thunderous pounding had been like learning to speak. The use of a divinity I knew better than any other calmed the tempest beneath my skin, and I approached the crack with as much serenity as I was able to muster.
Blinking, I tried not to react as I stepped over the obsidian threshold.
Taller than I was, Iemis’s tomb sat in the middle of the smaller cavern. And fed by the source of the font, growing from tiny cracks within the stone and vining over the obsidian casket, were blooms.
Winterfrost roses had grown, devoid of sunlight, in the place where Iemis had been betrayed.
“They get rather heavy when they sleep, don’t they?” the Supreme asked, drawing my attention to where he sat on the lush greenery beside the burbling font. The Supreme ran a hand over the child’s hair, and I contained my nausea at seeing the kindly motion.
I only nodded, keeping my eyes averted. If I didn’t speak, the protection of the novice face covering would make me unrecognizable. It was possible I could finish this—once and for all. I couldn’t use my divinity in this pocket of obsidian, but if I could lure him out to where I had access to my gifts, I had a chance.
The little girl was sprawled comfortably across the Supreme’s lap. With dark hair and rounded cheeks, I wondered if her eyes were the Umbroth hazel like her half-sister. Hurrying forward, I scooped her into my arms, frowning at the cut on her arm. As she adjusted, I swayed to soothe her. It would be best if she continued to sleep.
Hastily, I backed out of the obsidian room before the Supreme could say anything more. I struggled to find the same staircase I’d walked down, not particularly eager to climb all those stairs again. And to what? Leave the child in a cell?
The stone door to Iemis’s tomb rumbled shut, and I cursed under my breath. Would I be able to find it again? Without a thought, I healed the cut on the child’s arm—realizing the Supreme had interpreted the sacrifice as some sort of bloodletting. It made sense, given how the forestborn created their wards. But I didn’t think that’s what Rhia had meant. Maybe that was why the font was so diminished. Though larger than I’d expected, it was still a far cry from the massive pond the goddess had shown me.
After a moment of indecision, I knew what I had to do. Not daring to open a rift directly into Veda’s home and endanger her in the process, I concentrated on the door I’d snuck through with the novices.
As smoke and heat billowed through the rift, I stumbled out, willing it to close before the Supreme heard the screams.