Chapter 39 #2
Still, the true meaning remains just out of reach, like a word on the tip of the tongue. “We need to get these journals back to the palace. Maybe Knox can—”
“No.” Agnar slams the box of crystals closed. “He’s got the Champions Match to prepare for. His focus needs to remain there.”
“But this could be connected to everything else.” I gesture toward the mess. “The religious cult, the attacks, all of it. The Devoted wanted this hidden. To keep from us whatever the scientist-priests discovered.”
At the mention of the Devoted, we all instinctively study the signs of violence around us.
Helene gestures to the bloodstains. “You think the Devoted did this?”
“The missing scientist-priests, the destroyed research…” I nibble on my lip. “Who else would want to silence people questioning the nature of divine power?”
“Definitely the Devoted.” Rafe nods, his voice hard. “Without a doubt.”
“Let’s pack everything up. Maybe once we get the papers cleaned, we can figure out what got them killed.” I search for bags, baskets, and anything else we can use. “And maybe find others of their order to give this stuff to.”
We gather what journals and papers we can, stuffing them into bags and cloak pockets. The crypt feels colder, or maybe that’s just the chill of revelation settling into my bones.
As we climb back up the stairs, the weight of knowledge presses down on us, and each step becomes more laborious than the last. So much carnage left behind, and no one to blame for it.
No one to make pay.
Outside, the frigid night air slaps me in the face, and I huddle into my cloak.
I would expand my wings to raise my body temperature and help chase away the cold, but our group forms a tight cluster.
I don’t want to risk smacking someone in the face, especially not while carrying important items. The darkness enveloping the empty street feels watchful, aware.
And not in a divine way either. In a very mortal, very dangerous way.
“We need to move against the Devoted now.” Rafe grinds his teeth, constantly glancing over his shoulder. “Before they silence anyone else.”
“With what evidence?” A shivering Helene hunches into her cloak. “Bloodied journals and crystal formations that have existed in temples for centuries?”
“You saw the remnants of what happened in there.” Agnar gestures back toward the temple. “People were killed for what they knew.”
“Or what they thought they knew.” Helene hesitates, waiting for Bastian to tell us which way to go. “These are theories, not facts. The scientist-priests could be wrong.”
Bastian points down an alley. “Multiple temples, multiple gods, and the same patterns. That’s not coincidence.”
I shake my head, still trying to piece the puzzle together. The scientist-priests came from every temple. Why kill them when at least some must have served Zeru or his allies? “We need to be careful about—”
“Careful?” Rafe scoffs. “While more people disappear? While the Devoted grow stronger?”
Okie dokie then. Good to know Rafe’s gotten over his reluctance to speak freely around me. Oh wait, my bad. That was never an issue.
“And what about Knox?” Agnar tightens his grip on the three worn leather satchels he carries. “Does he need this distraction? Or do we wait until after the Champions Match?”
“If the gods are using us,” Bastian directs us to the right, “using our prayers to fuel something—”
“We don’t know that!” Helene pivots on him, her heavy cloak flapping. “The crystals could be a natural phenomenon of divine presence. They’ve been documented for centuries.”
“Not like this.” While not as well-read on the topic as my brother, I have seen references to them before. Specifically in times of great troubles. “They’re not just growing. They’re spreading to more areas outside of the temples.”
“So, what’s your plan, Your Majesty?” Helene’s eyes challenge me as she over-emphasizes my title. “What brilliant solution does our queen propose?”
The entire group regards me with an expectant air.
Even with their faces shadowed in the dim light I can recognize their fear.
Reading about these problems in reports is one thing, but it’s something else entirely to creep through cramped alleys while carrying bags full of journals soaked in the blood of the scientist-priests we all hoped would provide us with answers.
The fire in my palm flickers faster to match my accelerating heartbeat. “We don’t act rashly. Let’s return to the palace and study what we’ve found. We don’t tell Knox yet because he needs to focus. After the match, we bring our findings to the council.”
No one seems entirely satisfied, but they also don’t argue.
We weave our way to where we left our dragons, the tension between us thick as a blade. The flight back is silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts as we soar above the city. The palace glows against winter’s early sunrise, its spires reaching up like fingers trying to touch the stars.
When we land in the central courtyard, the dragons settle with soft huffs and rustling wings.
I thank Nailah, stroking her scaly nose before she lumbers away to join the others in the paddock. The weight of the journals in my bag feels heavier than it should.
Before I can even take three steps toward the palace, the air before me glistens and warps.
I stop short, my heart leaping into my throat. Dropping the bag, I reach under my cloak, ready to draw my short sword. Behind me, the others chatter, but their words sound like gibberish.
The space in front of me splits open like a wound in reality.
This is how Agnar described Zeru’s visitation.
My hand clenches with the urge to grab my sword hilt even though I know that action would prove useless at best against a god and insulting at worst.
Or viewed as a challenge.
To avoid temptation, I curl my fingers into a fist. Light pours through the slit in the air. But it’s not the radiant white glow Agnar recounted. This blaze is red, orange, and yellow.
Ziva steps through the crack.
My lungs flatten as I gaze at the goddess. She’s fire in human form, her body a constantly shifting flame contained in the rough shape of a woman. Charcoal black eyes settle on me.
“Hello, mortal queen.” Her voice crackles. “We need to talk.”
Power shivers over my skin while I stand frozen, the Goddess of Fire burning before me like a living torch.
As I gape at her radiant image, all I can think is that our troubles have only just begun.