Chapter 78 #3
Ophiucae took it from his hands and held it up, turning the blade so it twinkled in the crimson sunlight.
“You’re right. With this sword, I will end this war.
I’ll end every war.” He lifted a finger and sliced it on the sword’s edge, drawing a bead of black liquid.
“With this sword . . . I’ll remake the world. ”
He smeared his blood across the dark grey gemstone embedded in the blade. It began to glow, and so did he, skin radiating with a light so blinding, I was forced to look away. A chill skittered down my spine as his triumphant laughter filled the air.
Overhead, a gryvern’s wail rang out, then abruptly cut off with a horrifying crack.
I held my breath as two airborne beasts shot toward the ground—one dangling, limp, from the other’s jaws.
In the glare of the low-lying sun, I couldn’t tell which gryvern was which, but the sight of a man caged in the flying gryvern’s talons turned my blood to ice.
Ophiucae’s sword illuminated in a silver corona that filled the golden markings on its blade with a pulsing glow. He held it high, and the world around him seemed to curve, as if existence itself bent beneath its power.
Teller looked at me, his features absent any sign of alarm. “I understand now,” he said simply, “why you did the things you did. I see how far a person will go to keep their family safe.”
“Where is my daughter?” Ophiucae boomed, gazing across the battlefield.
Teller’s eyes stayed on me. “I love you, Mother. I forgive you. I hope someday you forgive me, too.”
I was thrown to my side as the earth began to quake. Two ridges rose from the rocky earth and sliced a route past me into the fighting. Ophiucae’s army split along its line, pushing our troops back to leave the pathway clear. At its end lay my daughter’s body, prone and still.
“Diem!” Teller shouted, racing toward her. He crashed to his knees at her side and felt for her pulse. “She’s alive—”
Ophiucae’s choked sound of relief took me by surprise, matching my own.
“—but something’s wrong. She won’t wake up.” Teller looked up at him. “Can you use your magic to heal her?”
My head gave a slow, terrified shake as understanding dawned.
As a child, Teller rarely misbehaved. When he did, it was usually at his sister’s request. He was her favorite accomplice, thanks to his ability to tell an impeccable lie—in part, because he never lied at all.
He skillfully twisted his words to emphasize the truths that helped them and distract from the ones that didn’t.
While Diem wore her emotions stitched across her chest in vibrant colors, Teller’s cunning composure could fool almost anyone.
The son I stared at now looked scared. His hands were trembling, his voice was shrill. If anything he’d said had been a lie, Ophiucae’s magic would have sensed it. There was no reason to doubt him.
But a mother knew.
A mother always knew.
I thrashed against my restraints as my panic mutated into something frenzied and wild. Ophiucae ran through his shield to join Teller at Diem’s side. Teller shoved her body into his arms. Ophiucae grimaced at the touch of her godstone armor on his skin.
The magic that held me flickered, weakening enough for me to slip away. I tried to run toward them, but Teller shot me a look so grave, it stopped me still.
He looked back at Ophiucae. “Can you heal her?”
Ophiucae dropped his sword and set his palm on Diem’s cheek. “Her wounds aren’t deep. They shouldn’t have caused this.”
Teller’s eyes found mine again. They held my gaze for moment, widened, then darted to a different spot nearby.
I spun toward it, raising my hands in anticipation of a surprise attack, and blinked at the empty expanse.
No soldiers, no gryverns, no threat. Only the rocky Fortos flatlands .
. . and two discarded blades coated in a scarlet paste.
I snatched them both and cursed myself for teaching my children to scheme.
“So it was a magical attack?” Teller asked him.
“My soldiers wouldn’t attack her.” Ophiucae’s hands curled into fists. “She must have been betrayed by one of her own.”
Teller nodded encouragingly. He was toying with Ophiucae’s paranoia, using his distrust of the world against him. “You could look at her memories,” he suggested. “Find out what happened to her right before she went unconscious. Then we’ll know how to help her.”
“And who to kill,” Ophiucae snarled.
Teller nodded again. “Anyone who hurts my sister has to pay.”
Ophiucae fell quiet as his gaze roamed over Teller’s face, and my breath stuck in my throat. For a long moment, none of us moved—then Ophiucae gave a slight smile. He laid Diem’s body on the ground, pressed his palm to her forehead, and closed his eyes.
“Diem was watching the battle from the Lumnos border,” Teller said. “Start looking at her memories there.”
He shot me a look, and I shook my head, silently ordering him to stop.
“Diem wanted to come to me,” Ophiucae murmured. “She was ready to make her choice.”
“Focus on the memories that will help us heal her,” Teller insisted. He beckoned for me to come closer. “Try later—after she joined the battle.”
I crept forward, careful not to make a sound.
Ophiucae hummed. “Yes. The battle. She was looking for you.”
“That’s right,” Teller said.
“You’d done something to upset her.”
“I’m her brother. That’s my job.”
“She was angry at you. Worried, too.”
“She’s my sister. That’s her job.”
Teller laughed.
Ophiucae didn’t.
I neared Ophiucae’s side. Slowly, carefully, urgently, I lifted one knife.
Oh, Auralie, a low voice purred inside my head. Will you never learn?
No.
No.
No.
Compelled by Ophiucae’s magic, my body involuntarily turned toward my son. My legs advanced a step, then another.
NO! I screamed—with my thoughts, with my heart, with my blood, with my prayers.
You raise courageous children, Auralie, I’ll give you that, Ophiucae said in my thoughts. If all mortals shared their valor, this world might not have needed me to save it.
“Diem seemed to think you were about to do something foolish,” he said aloud. “She wanted to stop you.”
“I was coming to see you,” Teller admitted. “She was afraid you’d kill me.”
In the torturous prison of my mind, Ophiucae gave a knowing laugh.
Teller’s hand drifted behind him. Across the chains that bound my mind, I felt Ophiucae take note. He used my eyes to watch, used my legs to walk. When Teller glanced at me with last-minute hesitation, I felt Ophiucae use my head to nod and urge him on.
It was hard to believe that I once thought the worst way I could fail my children was to die.
“Then what happened?” Teller asked.
“She found you,” Ophiucae answered. “You started to fight her.”
“I had to get her sword so I could bring it to you.” Teller fidgeted with something behind his back, and Ophiucae sent me closer to investigate, forcing me to stand behind my son.
Dread iced my veins as my eyes dropped to Teller’s hands, but there was no hidden weapon clutched inside them, only his rumpled, bloodstained shirt.
A tiny mercy, that I couldn’t betray Teller’s plan because I had no clue what it was. Though I fought the intrusion with all I had, I was completely under Ophiucae’s control. I was his soldier. His spy.
And as my hands lifted Teller’s knives into striking position over my son’s head, I realized with horror that I’d become his executioner, too.
Do you think of that day as often as I do? he asked in my thoughts. Our final moment together on that wretched island. The way you looked at me when you saw me with our child.
Suddenly, Diem stirred. Using my eyes, he watched her eyelids twitch.
What do you think she’ll do when she sees you? he went on. Will she believe the worst of you? Will she kill you and leave you behind?
I screamed my thoughts inside my head and hoped he could hear them. Diem knows I wouldn’t hurt Teller unless I was forced by you to do it. And she will never forgive you. Diem’s love can survive many tests, but this will close her heart to you forever.
“Do you see it?” Teller asked him.
Ophiucae was silent. Though his eyes were shut, I felt like they were boring a hole right through me. My fingers quivered on the hilts of Teller’s blades.
“Do you see what happened?” Teller pushed.
Diem let out a soft waking noise, and Ophiucae’s brows drew low. “I do.”
Teller’s hand moved to his side, still clutching his balled-up shirt. “Do you see now who betrayed her? Do you see who has to pay?”
“You,” he growled.
“No. You.”
Ophiucae’s eyes flew open.
Teller glared. “Now get the fuck out of their heads.”
He lunged for Ophiucae.
Ophiucae lunged for the sword.
And I, against my will, lunged for my son.
But the gods had heard my prayers, and Teller had known I was coming.
He flung himself onto Ophiucae, twisting their bodies as they fell, and the knives in my hands sank into Ophiucae’s back.
The flameroot paste on their blades swirled with his onyx blood, and his magic’s grip on my mind faded away.
I let out a sob of relief and struck again, this time with merciless purpose. I thought of the woman I’d been when I met Ophiucae—young and naive, trusting that a man I loved would never hurt me—and I stabbed him again, and again, and again.
I needed to be sure that I stopped him, that the war was over and he couldn’t hurt anyone else. I needed to know that Teller was safe, and that Diem was finally free.
I was so lost in the frenzy, I barely noticed when Luther shoved his way through the soldiers. My hands kept stabbing and stabbing, even as Luther wrapped an arm around me and dragged me back.
Ophiucae didn’t move. His body had gone slack, head drooped over Teller’s shoulder. Luther gripped him by the arm and flipped him over. Teller’s shirt was shoved into Ophiucae’s mouth, its damp fabric draped over his nose.
His eyes were closed. His hands were empty.
And his sword was buried deep in Teller’s chest.