Chapter 30
Liane didn’t have long-term romantic relationships for a reason, and this was it.
Honestly, it was a relief to end things before they got complicated.
She’d be living on the run, fighting the forces of evil.
When would she have time for canoodling and hot, steamy sex?
She and Erich had had their fun; she’d scratched that itch, and now it was time to move on.
It was fine. She was glad, even. She’d never asked him to stay forever.
They’d had a good time, a couple of good times, and that was all she’d wanted.
Right? Sure, Erich had led her to believe he might want more from her, but there’d been plenty of other men who’d done the same.
Besides, there were more important things to worry about.
Like the fact that Ludwig still hadn’t reached them and Luzie was nowhere to be seen, or how she needed to get a literal sword out of her back.
What was some petty fling compared to the fact that she was the goddess’ chosen, who had some undefined destiny to save the continent from darkness and destruction? Those were real problems.
She exhaled out of her nose and tried to untangle the snarled knot of emotions that tightened in her chest. The oracle had given her a brief rundown of what she should expect to face in the pool.
The vein was a source of pure magic; this one was outside the control of the church.
They’d been attempting to tame it for decades, but this pool was stubbornly untamable. A lot like Liane.
“It’s been waiting for you,” the oracle had said. “We all have our parts to play. I’ve done my best to keep this place wild, feeding it what little untamed magic I could, but my time is running out. It’s time you claimed the power and completed the transformation.”
She’d tried to conform to the church’s rules and structures, but it’d never quite fit, like a mismatched shoe. Then she’d met the oracle, and even though she’d just met her, there was something comforting and familiar about her, like a wise grandmother.
A lot of what the oracle had told her mirrored what the Avatheos had told her. She’d step into the water and be imbued by pure magic. What happened within the water was where things differed.
“It won’t be easy by any means,” she had said to her. “Your body has grown accustomed to the sword within its flesh and won’t give it up easily. You’ll have to fight to take control. But the alternative is succumbing to it and the world losing that power forever.”
Compared to the Avatheos’ version of events, which had sounded like being wrapped in a warm blanket, the oracle’s ritual seemed like a battle.
They hadn’t even reached the pool, and Liane was already bone-tired.
And this was just the beginning; drawing the sword was the first step.
She didn’t want to think about what happened next.
She returned to Erich and Fritz, who were standing over the tied-up patrolman.
The man was unconscious, and his horse was busying itself grazing on the long green grass.
In the distance, guards’ lanterns glowed, and a watchtower loomed over the horizon.
She bet they could see all the ruins from there, those last crumbling remnants of a lost civilization.
People whose day-to-day had been so intertwined with magic that pools of magic had been at the town center like a village well.
She wondered what the veins had meant to them for them to build their cities and temples around them.
There wasn’t much time to wonder as they heard horse hooves trotting in their direction.
“Hail!” a guard shouted.
They sank into the bushes.
“Hail, Armin. Answer if you can hear me,” the voice called.
Liane’s gaze slid to the man, who was unconscious no longer. His eyes were wide open and staring right at her. He opened his mouth to answer the call, and she lunged forward to cover his mouth.
Not before he got out a half grunt, “He—”
“Did you hear something?” a voice asked.
Erich knocked the guard over the head, rendering him unconscious once more, but the damage had been done.
The glowing lanterns were drawing closer.
They’d all get caught in a battle between guards on horseback.
Liane didn’t have a single weapon on her, and not a chance of standing up to the guards.
She couldn’t imagine small and slender Fritz the elf was much of a fighter, and she doubted the oracle was one for hand-to-hand combat either.
Which meant they were greatly outnumbered.
Erich had a grim expression on his face as he looked away from her and toward Fritz.
“They must have increased their patrol numbers,” Erich said.
“What will we do? We’re overpowered,” Fritz replied, rubbing his face. There were dark circles under his eyes.
“We just need to keep them away from the pool long enough for her to enter,” the oracle said.
They all looked at her. Had she seen this in a vision? Why not warn them so they could have come better prepared? But then again, that wasn’t how visions worked. Any seeing might branch off in a thousand different directions.
“She’s right; the plan remains,” Erich said. There was a disturbing finality to his tone. As if he were resigned to death. Liane wanted to reach out and comfort him, but held back. He’d drawn the line on their relationship. She wasn’t going to cross it now.
They retreated a few steps and strategized a plan.
“We’ll lure them away from the ruins and send them on a chase. The longer we can keep them away, the more time Liane can use to get in and get out. Fritz, can you use any of your magic at all?”
“Yes, enough for illusions,” he said, gesturing toward his face and rounded ears.
She hadn’t even considered he was maintaining a facade.
Was that for her comfort? She’d never been close to elves.
Three months ago, she wouldn’t have even considered it.
But in her few brief interactions with Fritz, she’d realized he was nothing like the elves she’d been warned about her entire life.
“Can you turn into Liane? If they think they see her, then maybe we can lead them away.”
Fritz’s face turned bright crimson. “I don’t know if that’s appropriate.”
“I don’t mind,” Liane said.
He cleared his throat. “But still. It’s frowned upon to take the visage of another person...”
“We need them to chase after me and Liane. I need you to do this,” Erich emphasized as he met Fritz’s gaze.
Fritz wouldn’t look back at Liane as he wrestled with his own ethics. She didn’t want him to break his rules of magic, but they were left with little choice.
She assured him once again, “Make yourself as close to me, without copying me exactly. It’s dark and you’ll be on the move.”
Fritz looked up at her, gratitude in his gaze. “I like the way you think.”
He placed his hand over his face, and like a sculptor working with clay, he reformed his features, softening his cheekbones, rounding his face.
A more delicate nose and chin, fuller lips, and longer lashes.
It was a surreal experience watching him change from a dark-haired elf to an auburn-haired woman, who shared a striking resemblance to her, though not identical.
It was uncanny and made Liane feel a bit strange.
It explained why the elves frowned upon exact copying.
“We’ll draw them away, and you two run toward the vein,” Erich said.
He turned to walk away, prepared to thrust himself into danger once again, for her sake. And this time, he might not make it back.
She could have let him go without a word, but even as angry as she was, she didn’t want him to die.
“Take care,” Liane said.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment. “I will make sure you escape unharmed. No matter what.”
His words sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”
They stared at one another for a few beats, her heart in her throat. She hated herself for wanting more from him, but knew she had to let him go.
“Keep her safe,” he said to the oracle.
“I will,” the oracle replied.
And that was it. He turned and rushed toward the oncoming guards. The guards saw them and sounded the alarm before turning to chase after Erich and Fritz across a nearby field, leaving her behind with a sinking feeling and a dangerous destiny ahead of her.
The oracle placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come. We should be ready.”
They waited in the bushes as Erich and Fritz, masquerading as her, drew away the guards, then darted out from the undergrowth and into the crumbled ruins beyond.
They took a serpentine route through the ancient city, stepping carefully over vine-covered, crumbling walls and moss-covered cobbled streets, which had been almost entirely consumed by the encroaching forest. Liane felt the pool before they reached it.
It seemed to call out to her, drawing her toward its center and making the scar on her back throb.
Then she got her first glimpse of it, filled to the stone brim with a shimmering void, which seemed to pulse through her, the same way that the other pool had called out to her. Liane stared at it as if mesmerized. Her eyes filled with stars.
“Careful stepping in. It’s quite the drop,” the oracle said.
“What if I’m not strong enough?” Liane asked, feeling less certain than ever before.
“You’ve got iron in your spine. Literally.” The oracle cackled at her joke. “You were chosen for a reason. Don’t doubt yourself now.”
Liane felt the heat of the sword through her skin. She’d lived so long with the pain and the fevers—things she’d thought made her a burden, and undesirable. Instead, they were marks of her divine purpose. She could do this, because she was meant for it.
“I’m ready,” Liane said.
“Then step into the water and prove it.” The oracle gestured toward the pool.
Liane took that leap of faith and felt the water lap over her feet, and then she fell.
Not the slow sink of water, but a free fall similar to what she’d experienced when she’d briefly slipped from Erich’s grasp while they flew.
She was tumbling through an endless void, stars reeling around her, zooming past her like comets.
Panic bubbled up in her throat, and she tried to tamp down her fear, even as the burning in her back, which had started out as an itch, grew more and more intense.
She heard beating wings, and it felt as if something was clawing at her throat, forcing her mouth open.
She was drowning. Water filled her lungs and made her choke.
She kicked her legs, attempting to rise back up to the surface, but no matter how hard she kicked or flailed, she made no progress.
There was no light from the surface. She was merely suspended in time, falling endlessly, while water poured into her mouth, but she never drowned.
Would she die here? Would the gods find her unworthy after all and leave her in this falling void?
No. The oracle had told her to fight. She had to resist the urge to panic.
And though it challenged every screaming instinct inside her, she let go of her fear and breathed.
There was no water rushing into her mouth.
She wasn’t drowning. She wasn’t falling.
She was suspended in a place, outside of time, and immersed in pure magic.
She realized she’d been here before. The memories were hazy, but this was the place where the sword had first fused with her back.
Suddenly, she felt as if her feet were on solid ground, or at least as close to solid ground as she was going to get.
Though the realm in which she found herself took shape and form, her mind knew it was all for her benefit.
The magic was not material but merely thought.
It was a disconcerting feeling. To be suspended in place—there, but not really.
“You came back,” a voice said from within the void.
She tried to turn to see who was speaking. They were both young and old, genderless and ancient. Made of stars and sunlight, veiled as the person she’d mistaken for the Nameless Goddess.
“I have,” she croaked.
“Then draw the sword.”
“I can’t. It’s inside me. Aren’t you going to show me how?”
“You do not need instructions. The power has been within you all this time.”
“I don’t know how. I’ve tried already. It’s trapped within me.”
“Draw it,” the voice called.
Her insides churned, and she feared what would happen if she failed again.
What if she was as powerless, useless, and terrified as she feared?
She was no one’s savior. She was that sick little girl bound to a bed, dreaming of being a hero.
But she couldn’t be one. No matter who she tried to pretend to be.
How could she ever be considered worthy?
“Draw it now. The fate of the continent and the world rests upon your shoulders. Destruction will only continue to spread unless the sword returns to the world.”
“And then what? What do you want me to do?”
“Return to the source of magic; join the two blades. End the rift.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will. Draw the sword.”
The riddles were maddening, but they struck her with a sudden resolve.
Liane reached to her back, which burned against her hand, flaming hot as if she would ignite.
She clawed at her flesh, until she bled.
The pain was unimaginable. It burned and it hurt, and tears were rolling down her face.
But she had to do it. For Erich. For everyone she loved.
Then she felt a bulge beneath her skin pushing against her flesh, before it burst from her—a hilt.
She pulled on it, and every second it was coming from her felt as if it would last an eternity, as if it were tearing her apart from the inside.
Despite the pain, she kept pulling, even as the pain grew so intense the edges of her vision blurred, and her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the ground.
All at once, it came free, and the pressure on her back lessened, but the weight of the blade in her hands was immense.
She held the shining blade. It was so bright it might blind her.
It was there in the flesh, and she felt it pulse in her grip, as if it were always meant to be there, and then she was flying upward, back toward the light.