Chapter 32
32
SAOIRSE
A dull ringing began in Saoirse’s ears as she stared at the grinning Sea Witch.
No. No. No.
Every heartbeat clattered painfully behind her ribs. Her tongue suddenly tasted of ash and the already-chilled temperature in the room dropped below freezing. The back of her neck prickled.
“Sweet little Mer,” Selussa hissed. “You didn’t really think you could collect the third Relic before I did, did you?”
“How?” Saoirse’s voice faltered. Emotion thickened in her throat as she realized the truth of what happened.
Selussa had murdered Sloane.
Sloane who was so desperate for freedom that she’d risked everything to aid them in their escape. Sloane who had courageously disobeyed her father and faced his wrath. She was gone now. Her skin had been commandeered by the Sea Witch, a disguise to be used momentarily and then cast aside.
“We’ve been here so many times now, I didn’t think you’d be this surprised,” Selussa chuckled. “Really, I thought you would’ve guessed at my game. But you never were predictable, were you, love? You’ve never failed to be utterly stubborn and staunchly willful, ignoring all the lethal signs in favor of fragile hope.”
“Where is Tezrus?” Saoirse demanded. The old man was supposed to have gone into the Garden of Gods with Sloane to look for the Moonstone Shard. Here was Selussa with the Terradrin Relic in hand, but where was the old stone-singer?
“Tezrus’s magic rooted out the Moonstone Shard easily enough. It was buried in a thick tract of other moonstone, just where he’d hidden it twenty years ago. He heard its call and followed the sound like a hound on a scent. After we located the Relic, I left him for dead.”
Dead ? Saoirse felt dizzy. Her heart lurched as she thought of the old man and his kind eyes. It was her fault. She should’ve been there to protect him. He’d left the Soundless Oasis and sacrificed everything to join them on the hunt for the Relics, and in the end, he’d died alone deep within the Garden of Gods.
“How long were you posing as Sloane?” Saoirse choked out. “How long were you wearing her flesh like a cloak?” Searing anger quickly ate away her shock. Her hands fisted at her sides as her hatred for the Sea Witch flared to life. Selussa had stolen both Sloane and Tezrus’s lives in a callous stride.
“A week or so. I’ll admit that when I arrived on Terradrin’s shores, I wasn’t entirely sure how to find the Relic. I knew you were sailing up the coast in your pitiful little merchant ship and I had to act fast. Fortunately, my beast stalled your progress and bought me a little more time. I would’ve sent more after you if your little dragon hadn’t come along.” A flicker of annoyance flashed in her dark eyes as she spoke of Kaja. She waved a flippant hand, nails flashing in the torchlight.
A week ? Selussa had been parading around as Sloane for days ? Nausea roiled in her stomach. Every secret meeting flashed in her mind. The tribute’s banquet. The stolen whispers in the cell block, instructing them on how to survive the trials. Their hug in the chamber of mirrors.
It had all been Selussa .
“I knew the stories of the Relic’s disappearance long ago, heard the rumors of how it had returned to the place from whence it was hewn. I am extraordinarily powerful, but I am no stone-singer.” Selussa picked at her claw-like nails with chilling nonchalance. “I cannot absorb magical abilities unless willingly given?as you well know?so I wasn’t sure how to steal the stone-singer girl’s power. Larken, I believe she is called. I couldn’t hear the song of the Moonstone Shard without her abilities. But I found my first opening in a lonely girl with hollow eyes.”
The black voids of her eyes flicked over to Sloane’s cold, rigor-stiff body. Faint amusement shone in her gaze. Saoirse wanted to stab those unfeeling eyes out.
“Why Sloane?”
“Grivur’s daughter was all too willing to make a bargain in exchange for her freedom. I took Sloane here at the beginning. I had a suspicion the Relic was hidden in the Garden of Gods. But I quickly realized that I’d be unable to find the Moonstone Shard on my own. We solidified our bargain right in this cave.”
Saoirse’s eyes stung with tears. Sloane had been left in this cold chamber for a week. She never got to taste the freedom that she so desperately craved. It wasn’t fair.
“You know how alluring my bargains are, don’t you princess? Sloane practically forced me to take the vial of her own blood, so desperate was she to be liberated from the confines of Grivur’s stifling halls. And of course, your half-witted band of rebels got themselves betrayed and all the pieces fell into my lap.” She started laughing then, a harsh, grating sound that inspired further rage in Saoirse.
“I couldn’t have planned it better myself. You may be surprised to learn that I had nothing to do with the Barrow boy’s betrayal. You got yourself into that mess all on your own. It was so perfect I almost thought you’d caught on to my schemes. I couldn’t believe how easy you made it?how fortuitous it was that Grivur was on the brink of madness and foaming at the mouth with paranoia. All the pieces were laid at my feet; I merely had to pick them up and arrange them to my desires.
“When your merry band of thieves got yourselves locked up in the mad king’s dungeons, I set my plans into motion. I was the one who suggested a Tournament. It was my voice that whispered of vengeance in Grivur’s ear. The mad king may have been cruel and volatile with his love, but he did love Sloane. Respected her even. So when his ‘daughter’ suggested he recreate the Tournament and force his enemies to atone for their defilement of an ancient tradition, he leaped at the chance. Only a madman would resort to hosting a second-rate Tournament. And I was named Tournament Ambassador, of course. We developed the three trials together. Oh, and I lied about the third trial being held in the Mines of Nerae. The final game was always set in the Garden of Gods. If I had told you ahead of time, you would’ve been suspicious. It would’ve been too easy, too convenient. So I let you think you’d gained the upper hand over Grivur, let you think you’d outwitted the king by hosting the final trial here.”
Saoirse wanted to vomit. There was nothing coincidental or advantageous about the final trial. It had been orchestrated by the Sea Witch all along. She’d purposefully isolated Tezrus and used him to search for the hidden Relic while the four of them were off battling sentient crystals. Selussa had been guiding them down the path like some omnipotent puppeteer, pulling the strings and watching from afar while they faced death several times over.
“Why all the theatrics and games? You could’ve just forced Larken to use her magic to locate the Relic within the Garden of Gods without ensnaring innocent lives in the process. You could’ve had your prize in a matter of hours. Why string it out over days, watching us believe we stood a chance in Grivur’s games?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Selussa grinned, black eyes glittering with ice-cold malice. “Your mortal efforts to stop me thus far have been so pitiful I could spare a few extra days watching you kill yourselves. Besides, Larken?powerful as she is?wouldn’t have been able to find the Moonstone Shard. It would’ve taken her years to isolate the moonstone’s call in this jungle of dissonant gemstones. I needed the man who hid it in the first place.”
Knowing the Sea Witch had been toying with them for sheer entertainment when she could’ve simply stolen the Relic and been on her way gave Selussa’s overwhelming power an even more lethal edge. She wasn’t just a goddess with an unholy objective; she was a monster using them for sport.
“It was much simpler this way. Why settle for the Terradrin Relic when I could guarantee all your deaths at the same time? After all, none of you stayed dead the first time around. Your little princeling should’ve remained dead in the arena. His blood should’ve seeped through the sand, feeding the souls of my siblings, and loosening their bindings. When I stabbed him with his own bloody dagger, that should’ve been the end of our bargain. But that Tellusun girl had to spoil it with her healing magic, didn’t she? I suppose some of the gifts of the sirens have lingered on, even if others have faded from time. We still have an unfinished bargain to fulfill, little Mer. It was your life or his, remember?”
Selussa lurched toward her with terrifying, unnatural speed. Ribbons of shadow exploded around the chamber, blotting out the light from the eternal flames. Saoirse felt her skull scrape against the ground as she was pinned down. The overwhelming scent of rotting flowers and decaying fish flooded Saoirse’s nose, scorching down her windpipe like acid. Selussa stood over her, dark shadows emanating from her palms like torrents of smoke. The tendrils of shadow curled around Saoirse’s limbs and immobilized her completely, pushing her against the rough stone floor like an insect under a boot.
She gasped for breath as Selussa’s shadows coiled around her neck. The Witch leaned closer, black eyes devouring all the light of the cave. Saoirse needed to distract her, needed something to use as a weapon. Her fingers flexed involuntarily, finding nothing but useless silt and dust under her palms. She could feel her vision growing dim as the wisps of darkness tightened around her spasming body. She had nothing to protect herself with.
But she had her words.
“I know who you are,” she choked out. The words wrenched out of her throat like a sob. A half-truth, but hopefully Selussa took the bait. Dark spots danced along the edges of her vision. “I know that you lost your kingdom. Anthemoessa.” Her voice sounded garbled and only half-audible, but this caught Selussa’s attention. She cocked her head to the side, a predatory movement that made her threads of shadow twitch ever so slightly.
“You know nothing , little Mer,” Selussa countered with a scoff. “I can see it in your eyes. Mere snatches of myth and rumor. You don’t know what it all means.”
“I know the truth .” Saoirse twisted against the writhing shadows. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to stay conscious. Her racing heartbeat throbbed in her ears. “I know that you are to blame for your kingdom’s collapse. You failed to protect your people and your divine siblings in the war. You were banished to the Underworld like a powerless Wyrm while everything you loved was destroyed.”
“Stop lying,” Selussa snarled. Her shadows tightened. Saoirse couldn’t even cry out in pain. “You know nothing of truth.”
“You don’t have true power,” Saoirse asserted. The words came out as a whisper between her teeth. The spots hovering on the edges of her sight multiplied, winking like dark stars in her eyes. “Without your bargains and your lies, you have nothing. You simply use others’ magic to your advantage, adopting their flesh and stealing their power so you can bend the world to your warped reality. Without desperate people to sink your claws into, you would have no power. Without Sloane, Yrsa, and me, none of?” Saoirse’s rasping voice was quickly cut off as the shadows constricted around her windpipe.
“I am no liar.” The words were a hiss from Selussa’s lips. She leaned in close, sharpened teeth perilously near Saoirse’s throbbing throat. Her eyes started rolling back into her head, eyelids fluttering.
“The truth is coming to the light.” Her hoarse voice was nearly gone, but she pushed the words from her tongue with the last dregs of breath from her lungs. “The Myths of Old are unraveling. We shall follow the footsteps of the mortals who killed their gods before us. The Titans will remain buried and soon you’ll join them.”
Selussa’s snarling slips quivered, red paint shining like blood. “I may have stolen flesh and power, but I’ve never stolen another’s voice, little Mer. Your beloved Four Kinsmen could not say the same. Your ancient rulers were not as perfect as legend says they were. Then again, they were the ones who wrote the Myths of Old, didn’t they?”
Saoirse’s eyes closed then. Only Selussa’s voice reverberated through her skull. She could feel the life being drawn out of her like poison from a wound. Her body spasmed but remained firmly in the Sea Witch’s chain-like shadows.
“Lies from the mouths of sirens led to my kingdom’s demise. My greedy people cast aside Anthemoessa in favor of power , fraternizing with mortal rulers as though I hadn’t given them everything . You are no better than those deceivers, girl.”
Vaguely, Saoirse felt a claw-like fingernail drag down her chest. The skin split, but she hardly felt any pain.
“You might not have a tail like them, nor a voice that could bring down the heavens and weave the very fabric of magic, but you are hewn from the same lying stock. Mer are not but a shadow of sirens and less powerful by half. You think you know what evil is, child. But I assure you, the worst is yet to come. I will bring forth nightmares from the myths of kings. I will?” Selussa’s words were blunted by a sharp cry of pain.
The ribbons of shadow loosened their hold on Saoirse’s body, finally allowing her lungs to fill. She choked on the rush of oxygen, curling in on herself. There was something hot and sticky on her sternum and she distantly identified it as blood.
“Saoirse!” A voice cried through the fog of her half-conscious mind. It was a thin sound that reminded her of the wind across the desert. “Saoirse, you need to leave. Now !”
Tezrus’s voice snaked through her confusion and pain. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, but she forced her eyes open. He was alive. Relief and terror pooled in her stomach as the realization hit her.
The old man was crouched against a rock, blood spilling down his wrinkled face in a river of crimson. It leaked from an ugly gash cleaved across his forehead. One arm was pinned to his side, bent at an unnatural angle. His other arm was thrust forward, veins and tendons thick under his skin as though he was lifting something heavy. His gnarled fingers flexed and strained.
Saoirse followed the direction of his arm, gasping when she saw what he’d done. A sharpened fragment of rock had exploded from the ground and pierced through Selussa’s hand. Black blood spewed from where the stone had impaled her flesh. Tezrus called forth another slice of rock with a flick of his wrist. It nearly severed Selussa’s other hand, but she evaded the stone at the last second. When the shard didn’t cut her, Tezrus enveloped her hand instead. The pliable rock folded over Selussa’s hand like wet clay and hardened instantly. Selussa cursed, scrambling to free herself from the stone’s hold. With both of her hands immobilized, she couldn’t call upon the shadows.
“You are a fool , old man,” The Sea Witch screeched. “You cannot kill me with mortal magic.”
Selussa thrust her jaw toward the tunnel leading to the chamber of crystal mirrors, eyes flashing with fury. From somewhere deep beneath the chamber, the shushing sound of rising water echoed ominously.
Realization hit Saoirse in the stomach. The pool with the cavefish. Selussa could bend water to her will after she’d stolen Saoirse’s powers in their bargain. The Sea Witch was going to flood the chamber and drown Tezrus if they didn’t move fast.
Tezrus stumbled over to Saoirse and collapsed to his knees. He slipped her arm around his feeble shoulders and lifted her with a groan. Saoirse’s legs trembled, her lungs burning with each shallow breath, but she managed to pull herself into a standing position. Sparks of pain shot up her spine as she took a step forward and then another.
The roar of churning water echoed up the tunnel as Selussa called it through the chamber of mirrors with Saoirse’s stolen power. The rising tide would fill the cave within minutes. Saoirse and Tezrus limped toward a small opening at the far end of the chamber. The odds they could outrun the swelling waters at such a slow pace were low, but they pressed forward.
Tezrus looked like he only had a few breaths left before he’d pass out. He had overexerted his magic far beyond its limits and was losing a startling amount of blood. His face had grown waxen and the blue veins at his temples pulsed under a sheen of feverish sweat. Blood poured incessantly down the side of his face, mingling with the snow-white of his beard. Each step forward was accompanied by a wince of pain and a rattling cough. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was close.
As the summoned flood whispered up through the tunnel and spilled into the room, they limped into the next connecting chamber. Selussa barked out an unsettling peel of laughter as the water rushed at them. For her, this was all just a thrilling game with no real stakes. Selussa would come for them once she’d freed herself from Tezrus’s stone shackles, but Saoirse wasted no time speculating what Selussa would do next. She siphoned every last drop of adrenaline and fear coursing through her blood into staying upright. Tezrus sagged against her, making the task exceedingly difficult.
The cloudy water from the pool bubbled up around their ankles. It surged forward with magical purpose, moving at the behest of Selussa’s manipulation like a living thing.
“I’ll seal this chamber,” Tezrus said in a ragged voice. “It’ll stop the water.” He jerked toward the narrow passageway, lifting one shaking hand to summon the stone.
“No!” Saoirse wrapped her fingers around his wrinkled wrist. “You’ve already pushed yourself too far.”
Tezrus shook his head softly. “Let me do this.” His milky eyes were rimmed with red, but they blazed with determination.
Saoirse’s lips tightened into a line. With the water swirling around their knees now, Tezrus would drown within a matter of minutes. At least he had a fighting chance if he used his stone- singing magic, no matter how depleted he already was. She relented and let go of his wrist.
The old man pressed his palm against the cave entrance, fingers twitching involuntarily. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. The rock obeyed his bidding. A portion of the wall filled up the narrow passageway like a cork stuffed into a wine bottle. The cave trembled as the rock painstakingly rearranged itself. Tezrus’s face twisted with agony, the tendons in his neck straining as he forced the pliable stone into place. Slowly, the rushing water reduced to a trickle as the rock ground to a halt and blocked off the connecting chamber, forming a temporary blockade. Selussa was sure to break through eventually, but for now, they were safe.
Tezrus collapsed instantly. Saoirse caught the old man before his head could hit the ground. His frail body buckled in her arms and his eyes rolled back into his skull. His mouth opened and closed as he gasped for air like a fish on land.
Saoirse sank to the floor, cradling his head as his body thrashed with exhaustion. She wiped strands of blood-soaked white hair from his sweaty face. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”
“I’m not leaving these caves, Saoirse,” Tezrus rasped. “This is where I shall pass into the next life.”
Tears beaded in Saoirse’s eyes as she stroked his now-familiar, wrinkled face. “No, we’ll find Hasana and she will heal you. Just stay awake.”
Tezrus shook his head, blood smearing against her arm. “You must save yourself, Saoirse. The fate of Revelore rests on your shoulders.” With his eyes still closed, he fumbled with a pocket hidden within the deep Elder’s robes.
“I found a vein of Bloodstone only a few chambers above us,” he whispered. “Tear a hole between realms and escape to the Underworld.”
Saoirse blinked in confusion. In his death throes, he was speaking nonsense. Before she could ask what he meant, Tezrus pulled out the obsidian vial of Selussa’s blood from his robes. His eyelids fluttered open, pale eyes staring sightlessly up at her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner,” he continued cryptically. “When you gave me this vial and told me how you had exchanged blood with the Sea Witch, I started putting the pieces together. And when I heard Selussa’s tirade in the cave, my theory began to solidify.”
He stopped speaking for a moment, winded by just a few words. He fought to catch his breath, chest hardly rising at all now. She curled her hands around his as her cheeks grew wet.
“I don’t think the Forge holds true power. It was made up by the Four Kinsmen and written into myth as a red herring. For generations, the Order of Elders has studied the magical properties of the Forge in our ancient tomes and scrolls, but no one has seen it for themselves. I always thought the legends were vague and obscure, like pieces torn out from a page. The Northern Wastes are very real, and perhaps there is a real Forge out there, but the Four Kinsmen did not simply use a magical smithy to enchant the Relics and defeat the Titans.
“I think?I think the Northern Wastes are all that remain after Anthemoessa was destroyed,” Tezrus continued in a whisper. “The Wastes must be the ruins of that oceanic kingdom, the one Selussa once ruled. I always wondered what happened to them, to the sirens. The Myths of Old paint them as deceivers who betrayed the Four Kinsmen, magical lesser beings that devoted themselves to the Titans. Even the Order of Elders have never questioned them to be otherwise. But hearing Selussa’s hatred for the sirens made me question the validity of the myths. Why would she claim her own people aligned themselves with the Four Kinsmen and betrayed her? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Through her shroud of grief and pain, Selussa’s scathing words surfaced in Saoirse’s memory: Lies from the mouths of sirens led to my kingdom’s demise. My greedy people cast aside Anthemoessa in favor of power, fraternizing with mortal rulers as though I hadn’t given them everything.
Tezrus was right. Why would the sirens turn on their own queen and side with the Four Kinsmen only to then pledge their loyalties to the Titans in the end? Each version was completely contradictory. Saoirse’s head was already throbbing, but it began to ache even more as she tried to make sense of it all. The Four Kinsmen deceived us all. Everything we know about the Myths of Old is a lie.
Saoirse’s mother had discovered the truth. The truth Tezrus now pieced together. What really happened to the sirens? Why did the Myths of Old feel so disjointed and half-forgotten?
“I don’t think the sirens went extinct,” Tezrus theorized. A trail of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, staining his colorless lips like wine. “I don’t think they betrayed the Four Kinsmen at all. I think they helped enchant the Relics at the end of the war, but something went wrong in the end.”
“The Four Kinsmen betrayed the sirens,” Saoirse breathed. “ They were the ones who destroyed Anthemoessa, weren’t they?” Her eyes went glassy and unfocused, half from exhaustion and half from the shock of Tezrus’s theory. “But why ?”
In her heart, Saoirse knew that was what her mother had discovered in Cira’s ancient letters. A secret history that not even the Elders knew. The mystery of those letters was why she’d been kept alive all these years, why the Order had tortured and imprisoned her instead of delivering the killing blow. Eleyera was the only one who had read Cira’s secret account. She was the only one alive who knew the whole story.
“That is what you must find out, Saoirse. Now that Selussa has three out of four Relics, you need to uncover the truth about what happened before it is too late. Before history repeats itself. You must save your mother and learn the truth.”
“ You are going to help me find the truth,” she amended. “We’re going to uncover it together. You’ll fill your own scrolls with the truth and generations to come will study your texts instead of the Order’s.” Her tears fell upon the purple robes, each droplet darkening the fabric like ink. “Just stay with me.”
Tezrus shook his head sadly. “You need to finish this journey for me, child. I will join my mother and father in the earth. My soul will sing on through the stone, just like my parents and their ancestors before them. I’ve been running from death for so long, but I’ve finally come home.”
A body-shuddering cough rattled from Tezrus’s mouth as he fought to stay conscious. Flecks of blood speckled the front of his robes as he gasped for air. Saoirse tried to process what he was saying, but a thick wave of grief overwhelmed her. He looked so impossibly frail in his billowing robes, a shadow of the vitalized man she’d met in the oasis not long ago.
Saoirse could hardly see through her tears as she watched Tezrus uncork the vial of Selussa’s blood with trembling hands. An acrid scent filled her nose as the fumes from the vial wafted toward her. She could’ve sworn a wisp of smoke drifted out of the obsidian flask. Tezrus held the vial to his bloodstained cheek, catching a few drops within. The mixture of blood let out an otherworldly hiss.
“There is no escaping the Under Kingdom, I’m afraid. Grivur’s guards are already searching for us in this labyrinth. Larken probably created a new entrance point into the Garden of Gods to avoid entering through the warded gates. These chambers will be swarming with underguards, and you’ll all be executed within the hour. There is no other way out except by venturing beyond the Under Kingdom. A place not even King Grivur and his guards can access.”
Saoirse’s hands stilled at his temple. She stuttered out, “Tezrus, what are you talking about?”
“You remember what I said at the beginning of this trial? I wasn’t lying. Ancient stone-singer folklore says that the fabric between worlds is thinnest where Bloodstone runs through the earth. You can tear open a gateway into the Underworld by soaking the quartz in real blood.”
“How?”
“The legends say that the blood of a dying innocent and the blood of a god can open a gateway between the divine planes. A Blood Gate, they call it. Use my blood to tear open a hole between realms and escape from the Under Kingdom.”
“How do you know it will work? What makes you think that pouring some blood over a bed of crystals will open a portal into the Underworld?”
Despite all the impossible myths she’d seen come to life, Saoirse struggled to believe it would work. Magical artifacts and ancient creatures were one thing. Entering a mythical realm was entirely different.
Tezrus smiled faintly. “I think that’s how the sirens did it. How they imprisoned Selussa all those years ago. They banished her into a purgatory-like prison within the Underworld by tearing open a hole in the fabric between realms. They made a bargain with her, just like you once did. To seal their bargain, Selussa gave them her blood?the blood of a god?and they turned on her. The sirens used Selussa’s own blood to open the gateway and banish their queen for eternity. That must be why she hates her people so much.”
“But they would need the blood of a dying innocent too. Whose blood did they use in combination with Selussa’s?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. But opening a Blood Gate using Selussa’s own bargaining chip was an ingenious idea. She would be sealed in an isolated state of imprisonment, completely alone. She could not escape by making a tear in the fabric between worlds.”
“Because she didn’t have the blood of a dying innocent,” Saoirse breathed. “You need both to open a Blood Gate. She was utterly trapped.”
Selussa’s own distant words fluttered in her mind: I have always struggled to believe promises from the mouths of sirens. If you make this vow, you cannot break it.
All the pieces clicked into place. The sirens must’ve bargained with Selussa. They broke their bargain to banish her from this plane of existence.
Saoirse turned toward Tezrus, a sense of awe in her voice as she said, “You’re brilliant.”
The more she thought of it, the more his theory made sense. The Sea Witch had a bizarre obsession with blood. Selussa had once told her that blood was more valuable than gold, that it could unlock doors and seal promises. After all, she’d been imprisoned in the Fretum for a hundred years using blood magic, sealed behind a barrier that was only opened after Saoirse had offered her own blood during their bargain. When Selussa had been defeated the first time, she’d been sealed behind more than just a slab of stone and an enchantment of blood. She’d been sealed behind an uncrossable divine veil until the Order of Elders finally freed her. It stood to reason they could unlock a door to the Underworld using the same blood magic.
Tezrus smiled weakly at her. “That is another reason why I must die, Saoirse. You need the blood of a dying innocent. If Hasana heals me, then you won’t be able to use it to open a Blood Gate.” He let out another sickening cough, more flecks of blood dotting his robes. He pressed the corked vial in her palm. That familiar thrum of power pulsed against her skin. It felt wrong that Tezrus’s blood mingled with the blood of an evil witch.
“Tezrus…” she trailed off, voice threaded with emotion. His sacrifice was too great a cost.
“I’m an old man, child.” He placed a time-weathered hand on her cheek and wiped her tears. “I’ve lived a full life. There is still much more life to be had for you and your friends. I want you to live a life that is peaceful and abundant. One where our kingdoms do not see each other as rivals. One where souls are no longer taken in the Stone Circle decade after decade. I meant what I said when we left the oasis together: I’m done running. I lived in fear for twenty years, wasting them away in the desert. Here at the end of my days, I finally have the chance to redeem myself.”
His breaths became more and more shallow. Tremors suddenly racked his body, but Saoirse held him tight as he thrashed. After the wave of spasms momentarily receded, Tezrus blinked up at her with pain-glazed eyes.
“You t-told me once that?” he broke off with a chest-heaving cough. “t-that you wanted to remake the world.” He squeezed her hands between his palms. “Promise me you will.”
“I promise,” Saoirse vowed, her vision blurring with tears. “I will remake the world.”
Tezrus nodded, his head lolling back against her arm. He closed his eyes and braced himself for death. Tremors rippled through his frail body every few minutes, but they gradually lessened into a few twitches in his fingertips.
And then suddenly, his hands went limp.
Saoirse stared at him for several long moments. Numbing silence filled the small cave in the absence of his ragged breathing. The taste of salty tears and metallic blood mingled on her tongue. She felt her limbs stiffen against the floor. She was so physically and emotionally drained that all she wanted to do was sink into the cave walls and become petrified into stone.
She looked down at herself, taking in the crimson soaking through her ripped tunic. She couldn’t tell where her blood ended and Tezrus’s began. A fresh crest of nausea broke over her. The vial thrummed against her palm as though it sensed her horror. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t strong enough.
My brave girl. I love you.
As Saoirse stared at Tezrus’s lifeless body, she thought of all the people Selussa had killed in her frantic quest for vengeance. She’d murdered Yrsa and Lorsan a hundred years ago, inadvertently unleashing a brutal war in the wake of their deaths, killing thousands in the process. She’d destroyed Kellam Keep and released hundreds of bloodthirsty monsters into the Maeral Sea. Her people were fleeing for their lives even now. She’d killed Sloane and Tezrus. She’d almost killed Rook. He was alive thanks to Hasana, but he still bore the festering mark of her attempt and he was running out of time.
Blinding anger flooded her veins as she sat in the heavy silence. Her skin flushed with rage. Selussa would pay for her crimes. She would not withstand Saoirse’s fury.
Saoirse laid Tezrus on the ground as gently as she could. She kissed his forehead and prayed he finally found peace within the rock. She rose to her feet and swallowed her tears, clutching the vial of blood in her hand like a sword.
The Sea Witch would break beneath Saoirse’s storm.