Chapter 21
The warmth of Erich’s hand lingered on Liane’s palm.
As the night passed and sleep evaded her, it felt more and more like a dream.
The right thing to do would be to try to wake the guards, or shout for help.
One thing was for certain—A pure vessel for the goddess’ light wouldn’t long for a man with scales and claws.
Instead of sounding the alarm, she’d watched him flee and then returned to her bed to stare at the ceiling.
Maybe it’d all been a dream, and rather than purifying her, time in isolation was driving her insane.
Or maybe the corruption of her soul had been sealed the moment she’d killed Sylvie.
The thought of it sat on her chest like a boulder.
Her arrogance had killed the girl, and her obsession with Erich would doom the entire continent.
The Avatheos had sent her to the tower for quiet reflection, to help cleanse her of the darkness creeping at the corner of her thoughts, and even that she couldn’t do right.
She bunched up her bedding into a fist and then pulled.
Why had Cyra chosen her? Why not someone beautiful and good like Aristea or brave like her brother, Mathias?
Why her? She was selfish and arrogant and refused to obey authority.
Rather than chase her circling thoughts, perhaps she should ask Cyra directly.
She was her chosen after all, and the Avatheos had said she was the closest to Cyra of them all.
She knelt down beside her bed. Resting her elbows on the edge, she upturned her hands in prayer.
She never prayed, apart from during religious ceremonies and sun rites rituals.
She hadn’t seen much purpose in it. But maybe that was the missing piece.
Maybe she’d been so determined to carve her own path, she hadn’t stopped long enough to hear Cyra’s voice.
But where did she begin? Should she confess her sins to the goddess? Was she listening? If Liane was the vessel, she supposed she was.
“Ah. Hello, Cyra,” Liane started awkwardly.
Talking aloud to the empty room felt silly, so she continued in her head, which felt just as ridiculous, but at least no one could overhear it.
“If you’re omnipotent as they say, you probably know what I’ve done.
.. but I have my doubts about your divine plan. .. What do you want from me?”
There was no answer, of course. Maybe she wasn’t praying right.
Or as the Avatheos had said, she wasn’t pure enough.
Maybe once she cleansed herself spiritually, Cyra would speak to her, but how, through visions?
Or a voice? She wasn’t sure. No one told her anything.
They only pointed out what she was doing wrong.
She’d been in Basilia for nearly a month, and she felt no closer to mastering her powers than when she’d gotten here.
The church had always been cloaked in mystery to her, and its mysticism was something that she hadn’t cared to wonder about.
And even now, when she was at its very heart, she had more questions than answers.
When they’d first met, Sylvie had mentioned to her how the church was meant to save her.
If she had been suffering from corruption all along, were they all suffering in some way?
Was it her destiny to save them all? What if she couldn’t?
The corruption was starting to take over Erich, too.
He’d half transformed before the full moon; shouldn’t that be proof enough that she was better without him in her life?
But why couldn’t she convince herself that was the truth?
As guilty as she felt, when he’d told her she was perfect, she’d wanted to believe it was true—that there wasn’t something wrong with her but the systems in which she was bound.
“Tell me what I’m doing wrong. How can I be good enough?
How can I be pure enough? How can I prevent another Sylvie.
..” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pressed her head against the mattress.
She sat there until her back ached and her knees trembled from kneeling on the cold stone ground. But there was no answer from Cyra.
Sylvie’s death couldn’t be cleansed by ritual, prayer, or isolation. It would remain like a stain upon her soul forever.
Liane sat back on her heels and gave up the pretense of prayer.
There were stacks of holy books in her room.
She’d been trying and failing to read them for days.
Every time she opened one, she thought of Sylvie writhing in agony, screaming as Liane killed her.
Reading religious texts wouldn’t change anything, and reading about the Nameless Goddess’ great betrayal only made her feel as if she were cast in the wrong part of the opera of the betrayal myth.
She picked a book at random from the stack and flipped it open.
It landed on a page about the end of times prophecy.
“A pure life is one without temptation. You should become as the goddess made you, nameless, unattached to this world, and a living vessel for her divine works.”
The words sent a stab of guilt to Liane’s gut, and she shook herself as she set the book aside. Reading wouldn’t help. Instead, she walked over to her open window. It wasn’t much wider than her arm, but it allowed a stream of light in.
The light of the waxing gibbous moon poured in through her open window, and she stared out at the moon.
She hoped Erich was safe and he hadn’t been caught by the Midnight Guard half transformed.
But it’d been quiet across the temple since he’d left, and she hoped that meant he’d left unscathed.
She might have prayed for his safe escape, but it felt like sacrilege to pray that a corrupted intent on warping her mind escape.
The city was quiet. Curfew was in effect, and all the houses had their lights out.
The moon cast silvery light over the landscape, giving it an eerie glow.
In fact, the play of shadows, the light and dark, reminded her of the two-toned stag.
She thought of how it’d lured her through the forest to the pool.
It, too, must have been corrupted and trying to lure her down the wrong path.
The Avatheos and the Church of Sol were meant to be the defenders of light.
Anything that stood against them was evil, wasn’t it?
If only life were as simple, as black and white.
Erich and the stag seemed to think there was some other destiny she was meant for.
But who did she trust? The church and the way of light, or potential corruption and damnation?
It seemed like an obvious answer. If a friend had asked her that question, she would have called them a fool.
But everything about the temple felt wrong.
As if she’d put on a shoe made for a different foot.
What if the Avatheos had misinterpreted his prophecy?
Hadn’t scholars and priests argued about the meanings of the holy books for centuries?
She’d read that prophecies were often vague and obfuscated in rhyme.
It was up to the receiver of said prophecy to decide the truth.
If only Liane could discern what that truth was.
She sighed and leaned onto the windowsill in front of her. She wasn’t a religious scholar. She heaved another heavy sigh just as she noticed a shadow pass overhead.
Liane looked up, expecting to see a dragon, but instead, she saw a giant raven, twenty times the size of a normal one. Its piercing golden eyes sent a chill down her spine as it swooped toward her.
She leapt back as it dove, even though it was much too large to pass through the window.
As it approached, it shrank down and swooped in to land on her bed.
Liane pressed her back against the wall and considered shouting for help.
Though she likely wouldn’t be heard from the top floor of this tower.
She’d seen this raven before—the moment her powers had first flared in the temple and through various visions.
It let out a long, low caw, and as it did, the door to her room swung open.
She rubbed at her eyes. She must be dreaming.
There was no way a shape-changing raven and Erich had visited her on the same night.
When she tried pinching herself, it hurt. Not a dream, then.
“Come. The hour grows late. We’ve not much time,” it cawed before flying down the stairs.
Ludicrous as this was, she felt compelled to follow it.
The raven waited for her at the foot of the stairs, cawing before swooping down the hall, headed for the inner ring of the temple.
The halls were empty, strangely so. Even when the curfew was in effect in the city, many priests and acolytes worked late into the night tracking the stars.
But it was as if she’d stepped into a liminal space between worlds, the light like twilight.
Rather than question it, Liane followed the raven into the inner sanctum.
The high-domed glass ceiling was filled with moonlight, and when she gazed upon the statue of Cyra, she noticed her appearance had changed.
Her golden visage, which sparkled in the daylight, was shadowed and contorted.
Her once-golden hair looked onyx in the moonlight, and her cloak was blanketed in stars.
Liane stared at it for a long moment before it dawned upon her.
This wasn’t Cyra but the Nameless Goddess.
Not as she’d been depicted, shrouded and sinister, but pearlescent and sparkling like the moon and the stars.
“This is Yneas’ true form,” said the raven.
She’d never heard the Nameless Goddess’ name spoken before, but the word sent a ripple through her, as if the name itself evoked her presence.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she turned to face the raven, half expecting to see the veiled goddess beckoning her beyond the veil as she had in her vision.
The raven had grown again and was nearly five times Liane’s height, its head close to brushing against the domed ceiling.
As it moved, its massive talons clacked on the lacquered floor.
“Does your presence here mean I am damned?” Liane asked tremulously.
“You are not.”
“Then why do you keep haunting my visions?”
“Because I am the guardian of the sword that resides in your back,” the raven said.
Her heart was hammering. This all must have been a dream. It had to be. But she felt the sting of her pinch throbbing on her hand, felt the cold breeze produced by the ruffling of the raven’s wings.
“I’ve seen you in the books. You were on Cyra’s shoulder.”
“You’re right. I have been there since the beginning of all things. I watched the sisters turn on one another and have seen their followers bring this world to the brink of destruction.”
“And are we on another such precipice?”
“Yes.”
A cold chill slithered down her spine. “The sword is in my back, but I fear I am not worthy of it.”
“When I gave your mother the sword, I told her the price would be owed. And you are one-half of that price, the wielder who was promised, who can set the world’s balance back in order.”
“That’s what the Avatheos told me. I am doing everything, but I still don’t hear her voice.”
“It is not her voice you need to hear.”
“Then whose? Are you trying to corrupt me, to lead me astray, to unleash the Nameless Goddess?”
“What has been set in motion cannot be undone. You can prevent nothing, but you must end it.”
“How can you say that? I killed a girl. She came to me for help, and I cut her life short.”
“The church killed that girl. She was doomed to death before she ever met you. They filled her head with promises that could not be fulfilled. The sun cult is killing magic. The more they try to control it, the more it withers. When they severed the two magics from one another, they created a rift that grows larger and larger and will swallow the world if you cannot stop its spread.”
“I just want to be good, to follow the light.”
“To magic, there is no good or evil. There is no light without the dark. The doubt that lingers in your mind will be your destruction if you do not accept the path. You know what must be done. You know the answers. Either let magic die and, with it, let the world wither and fade to nothing, or take your first step on the path of your destiny.”
“Then I choose the church and the Avatheos,” Liane declared.
The raven opened its wings and squawked at her. Liane stumbled back a step, catching herself from falling by grabbing onto a nearby pew.
“No! They will bind your power to theirs. To let them draw your sword is not why you were chosen. You do not bend the knee; you do not back down. Why let them cow you?”
She looked at her shaking hands and thought about what Erich had said. The feeling of wrongness that wouldn’t leave her. The lingering doubts in her mind. She’d become someone she didn’t recognize.
“How do I draw the sword?” she asked.
“You know the answer.”
“The pool, back in Artria? I can’t go back there. It’s too far.”
“There is another closer by. Call on your shield to bring you; finish the ceremony that was interrupted.” The raven was starting to fade away; she could see the walls behind it.
“You can’t leave it there. Tell me more. Take me out of this place.”
But it didn’t provide any answers. The shaft of moonlight that had illuminated it moved, and the raven burst into a cloud of mist and disappeared, leaving Liane standing, shivering in her nightdress, back in the tower.