Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“Your flame wants to show us something?” I glance at Sterling, the curious confusion on his face mirroring my own.
Rose cups her small hands beneath the flame, cradling the air like it’s something precious.
The familiar responds, dropping lower and spreading wider until it’s a floating pool of fire hovering above her palms. Light paints her face in shades of amber and gold, her eyes reflecting twin flames.
Not ordinary fire. Not anymore.
The edges ripple, then still, creating a fiery basin that hangs in the air. Within its depths, shadows begin to waltz, light begins to swirl, and images—actual images—form in the heart of the flame.
“A scrying flame,” I breathe, unable to mask my awe. Such things have been written of in the histories, but no one alive knows how to do them.
Sterling hovers closer, skepticism written in the tight lines around his eyes. “Impossible. Fire can’t—”
“Apparently, it can.” I motion toward the floating basin of flame where shapes are already becoming clearer. It’s like looking through a window into somewhere else. “Rose, how long have you been able to do this?”
She shrugs, her childish nonchalance at odds with the miraculous thing happening above her hands. “I’m not doing anything. But Kin has never done this before.” Her eyes widen, and her voice drops to an astonished whisper. “It’s excited. It wants to help.”
Sterling arches his eyebrow. “Kin?”
Rose rolls her eyes in that particular way only children can perfect. The look that conveys she thinks adults are hopelessly slow. “That’s its name.”
“The flame told you its name?” I attempt to stay calm and collected.
“Like kinfolk. You know, family.” She gestures with her chin toward the flame since her hands are still occupied. “And ‘kindle,’ like a flame does.” Her tone, with such matter-of-fact certainty, makes me wonder how many other conversations she’s had with her familiar that no one knew about.
As if responding to its name, the flame expands even more.
It’s nearly a foot across now. The images within gain clarity.
I glimpse what looks like a doorway but…
wrong somehow. Not built. Torn. A passage hewn into something that bleeds silvery light.
The vision pulses rhythmically, like a receding heartbeat.
Around the ragged edges, shadowy shapes emerge.
Sharp, pointed objects that might be knife tips.
Or mountain peaks. Or teeth. I can’t really tell.
A chill runs down my spine.
“If this is a vision, I’m stumped.”
An expectant sigh parts Rose’s lips.
Sterling’s gaze never strays from the flame. “We need Bastian. Now.”
At his command, Astrid dashes to the door, relaying the order. I lean closer, studying the silvery light that spills from the tear. It doesn’t behave like normal light. It bends in ways that hurt my eyes to follow, flowing rather than shining. It’s more like water.
Bright water? Could this place be in a lake or ocean?
We wait in silence broken only by Rose’s occasional whispers to her familiar that are too quiet for me to hear. The flame continues its display, the vision cycling through subtle variations. The tear widens, then narrows, the silvery light pulsing brighter, then dimmer.
Bastian arrives in a flurry of motion, his tall frame filling the doorway. “What’s the emergency? The page said—” He gasps when he sees the floating fire. “Gods above.”
“Or below. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Sterling gestures for him to come closer. “Look at what’s in the flame.”
My brother gazes into the fiery basin with an expression I’ve seen before. Somewhere between reverence, scholarly excitement, and blissful love. “There are accounts in the old annals…”
He starts pulling books from my shelves while muttering under his breath, his fingertips skimming across spines until he finds what he’s seeking. He flips through pages frantically, ignoring the rest of us.
Sterling catches my eye, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Lark had better get reading her Five-Fold War annals faster.”
I elbow him in the ribs but can’t stop the smile that stretches my lips. It’s the first time in weeks I’ve felt anything like my old self.
Bastian, oblivious to our exchange, continues his harried search. “The light…the way it ripples…just like the accounts…glowing water.” His fingers fly across pages yellowed with age.
“What accounts?” Hearing my own thoughts has my patience evaporating. This is just too exciting.
Startled, Bastian meets my gaze as if he’d forgotten we were here. “There are stories. Legends, really.” He returns to rifling through pages, his movements careful despite his obvious enthusiasm. “About physical pathways to the godly realm. Most scholars dismiss them as metaphor, but…”
He holds up an ancient text, pointing to an illustration with a trembling finger. The painting in the book matches what we see in Rose’s flame with uncanny precision. A jagged tear with mountainous edges and silvery light spilling from within.
My breath hitches. “A portal. An actual portal to the gods.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with possibility. A portal to the godly realm. A way to reach them directly, to demand answers instead of waiting for cryptic signs and portents. My mind spins with the implications.
“Where can we find it?” The practical part of my brain’s already planning logistics. This could solve all our problems.
Bastian points to words beneath the illustration. “Volox. That’s the old name for the continent Tír Ríoga is on. Before it broke up into several smaller kingdoms. And there’s only one mountain range. Though it’s a long one.”
“I told you Kin wanted to help.” Rose is matter-of-fact and not at all surprised by this earth-shattering revelation. Her flame familiar, having delivered the message, returns to its normal size and shape and dances above Rose’s shoulder.
“Some ancient texts mention actual pathways to the divine realm. A physical way to step into their domain. Most considered it blasphemy to even suggest such a possibility, but there are accounts…” Bastian flips to another page to show us a different illustration.
“Pilgrims who claimed to have found such passages, who returned changed. Either blessed or cursed by the encounter.”
Stunned energy zips through the room like a current.
A portal to the gods. A way to reach the beings who have remained so frustratingly silent while our world tilts further into chaos.
A chance to demand answers about the unusual occurrences in Tirene and beyond, about the strange events at the Divine Commons, about why everything is going sideways in the mortal world.
Sterling catches my eye, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “If the gods won’t come to us—”
“We go to them.” My grin matches his.
His expression shifts, his gaze darting over his shoulder.
“What?” My tension returns.
“It just felt like someone was watching me.” Then he shakes his head with a dismissive gesture. “It’s nothing.” His posture straightens, radiating defiance. If someone is watching, he clearly doesn’t care. “Time for an adventure.”
The word breaks whatever lingering hesitation grips us. Excitement takes over, propelling us into action. I hurry to my wardrobe, pulling out my travel pack while Sterling rummages through a chest for maps.
“We’ll need thick clothes,” I call over my shoulder. “The Desolate Lands are known for their barbed plants and fierce animals.”
“And weapons,” Sterling adds. “Gods or not, we don’t know what else might be living near this portal.”
We talk over each other, discussing routes and supplies, our voices overlapping in our enthusiasm.
I track a path on the paper. “We’ll fly north—”
“Then cut northwest, toward the Desolate Lands.” Sterling’s finger follows the sigils for the mountains.
I push books aside so I can spread a map across my desk. “We may have to hit the Withered Undulations.”
Bastian joins the planning frenzy, finger tracing lines on the map. “The Withered Undulations are treacherous. Especially the western edges. There are trenches there that go down hundreds of feet, some filled with poisonous gas from old volcanic activity.”
Sterling nods, writing out a list of necessary gear. “Rope and winches. Some of those trenches run deep.”
Rose perches on a table, swinging her legs and watching us with bright interest. Her flame familiar darts around the room, seeming to catch our excitement.
Bastian points to the image in the ancient text again. “The illustration definitely shows mountainous terrain, although it’s likely to be underground. At least partially. So look for mountains…maybe with extensive roots.”
I mentally catalogue what we know. “If we don’t find anything in the West, we’ll head for the Eastlands.” An unexpected but welcome laugh bubbles up through me. “Maybe I can find out what happened to my wedding flowers.”
I look up to find Sterling crouched, motionless before his pack. A strange stillness has come over him. I follow his gaze to Bastian, whose face has gone carefully blank.
They both scrutinize me with serious expressions.
“What?” I demand, alarm rising.
“You can’t both leave the kingdom at the same time again.” Bastian’s voice is low and measured. “Not when so many blame us for their magic weakening. Not when the other kingdoms are discussing war.”
The words slam me in the gut.
Of course. It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t see it immediately. Tirene can’t be without both her rulers for long, especially not now. Not with such cunning, dangerous strangeness at play. Not when enemies might be spying on us.
One of us must stay behind.
My zest deflates all at once. “Dammit. You’re right.”
Who will stay behind to govern the kingdom while the others search for a way to confront the gods?