Chapter 53
Audra should’ve never returned to Holyvere. She should’ve left with Zhaire when she’d had the chance.
She sat on the stone floor, curled into herself, holding her knees to her chest, locked in a windowless chamber at the heart of the temple.
Her ass hurt, her wrists, raw and red, and rattled with bloodied cuts, burned, though at least they were free from the dreaded timepiece.
There was no escape, no incra that she’d cast that would undo the incras embedded in the very structure of this temple, this room, that would unlock the door and free her from the clutches of the Chorus of Echoes.
The door opened without a sound. In walked the priestess from the day Audra was abducted, a hunger burning in her bright, pale gaze.
“Audra, I hope that you are not frightened of me. My name is Nyrah Autumnborn, and I have not come to harm you.”
Audra remained silent.
“I have been waiting my whole life to meet you, Audra.” Nyrah smiled. “In another life, if circumstances hadn’t been so disordered, I would have been like a mother to you. I would have raised you as if you were my own.”
“Luckily, circumstances were disordered then,” Audra deadpanned. “You are supposed to protect your acolytes, aren’t you? And yet …”
Nyrah didn’t seem hurt or perturbed; she just nodded with all the wisdom of someone who’d lived hundreds of years and was accustomed to dealing with petulant children. “You will be happy to know that your opinante is expected to make a full recovery.”
Audra narrowed her eyes.
“You needn’t be distrustful of me, child. I would not lie to you in the house of our gods.”
Audra snorted, but nevertheless, she hoped that she was being truthful at least in this one thing—that Twyla would live, that she would be alright.
The priestess did not come here to talk about a lowly acolyte though, it was clear.
“I hope you know that you are a gift.” She stepped closer, her gaze fervent, her breaths quick, uneven.
Like she needed to express this to Audra or at least have her hear it.
“You are a gift, Audra,” she repeated. “But you also have the privilege of being the gift. Being the Heir is the greatest privilege one could ask for.”
Audra emitted a dark laugh at the absurdity of it all. “A gift for whom? Your gods?” She pressed a finger to her chest. “For me, this is a curse. I am cursed.”
Twice over.
Nyrah shook her head furiously. “You are mistaken, Audra. This is a most joyous gift for everyone, even you. Finding you at last is a cause for celebration!”
Audra took a step toward the priestess, glaring.
“Enough with the lies! This does not help ‘everyone.’ My sacrifice does not help the humans who were exiled, with their magic and ties to the land ripped from them, who were abandoned by their own gods because of it. It does not help the Veiled Realm, where they toil in the underworld, where no being with a soul is meant to live.” Audra spat on the ground.
“My being Heir benefits the Veridian fae and none else.”
“Who told you these lies?” A scraping laugh like gravel.
“And I was told you had excelled in your history lessons … lessons that were supposed to show you how wonderful it is to aid the Zenaidan nation, to instill within you fidelity and allegiance. One of your ancestors had to have hailed from here.” She spread her arms wide, looking around as though Audra wasn’t trapped in a stone cell and could see the great, wide beauty that Zenaida had to offer. “This is your home.”
“This place will never be home, nor was it ever. No wonder my ancestor chose to travel to the human realm at some point.”
Priestess Nyrah’s severe mouth twisted with distaste.
“As for the Veiled Realm … it is filled with no being who truly lives, nor do they have souls. Demons are not like you or I, both blessed with fae heritage. Demonkind do not possess souls; they do not desire to live; they only hunger for flesh and emotions.” She stepped toward Audra, spreading her arms wide.
“Though humans do not possess souls, regardless, the rebirth of spring will benefit them.”
Audra wheeled back with disgust. Delusional.
The Zenaidan fae were delusional. They truly thought they were the only beings in possession of a soul?
And that Audra only harbored a soul because at some point, one of her ancestors hailed from the Veridian Realm?
And what—spread the gift of a soul through their seed or womb?
She wouldn’t waste her breath arguing against this madness—why waste the energy when the Zenaidans were clearly corrupted so entirely with xenophobic bigotry?
Nothing Audra said or showed could change the priestesses’ minds, nor any Veridian fae.
This land was spoiled not from a prolonged winter, but with the rot of ethnocentrism.
Oblivious to Audra’s repulsion, Priestess Nyrah continued with a smile. “Such primitive creatures, imagine how humanity might thrive in spring and summer and autumn and must only survive the winter as we wait for the next Heir, who will hopefully not be born late, or in the wrong realm next time.”
“Regardless of your … vile, backward, and frankly, insulting views … bringing forth spring … that is not worth giving my life for.” Audra clenched her fists, her fingernails carving half moons into the soft flesh of her palms. “I mean to live as long a life as I am able. I will not have you or anyone, not even your gods, cut it short.”
For the first time, Nyrah let the mask of benevolent joy slip, her frustration showing through the cracks. “We had hoped that your fae heritage might have bred some decency into you, but I see that it has been polluted by too much of your human blood.”
Audra laughed, the sound low and lacking mirth. “This is exactly what I meant by ‘vile’ and ‘backward,’ by the way.”
The mask shattered. “You are as selfish as all humankind. You should feel honored that the gods chose you—a lowly human from some incidental town … filled with despicable scum even by human standards.”
Audra rolled her eyes, checked her nails.
“Forgive me, maybe I am too ‘primitive’ to see the honor in sacrificing my life, something I hold very dear, to gods that have never deigned to lift a finger to help me or any of my kind.” Audra laughed again.
“Maybe that does make me selfish.” A shrug.
“So be it. I’ll be selfish, if it means I’m alive to be anything at all. ”
“Despicable. I am glad my sisters are not here to witness the blasphemy spewing from your hateful mouth. It doesn’t matter that our effort to make this transition easier for you was for naught—that the curriculum and all the effort that went into this …
experiment … failed. We had hoped that you would come willingly, that you would embrace this most holy calling—one life in exchange for hundreds of years of peace and prosperity …
” The smile returned. “But no matter. We will have our ritual either way; you need not be willing for it to work.”
“Oh, you have plenty of experience with that, just as your Veridian fae ancestors helped the gods to take the earth’s agency and choice, so you take mine from me.”
“I only do as I must, to ensure the earth thrives.”
“You call this thriving? The earth itself is held under the knife by you fae and your gods, forced to bend to your will, again and again, cycle after cycle. You uphold this belief, this practice, as though there is honor in it.” Audra raised her chin.
“There is no honor in what you do. You have joined an order of murderers; your entire society is built on the rape of the earth, the pillaging of the demons’ magic, the theft of the humans’ magic, and the relationship with their gods. You are the hateful one.”
“I have a mind to gag you, you insolent girl.”
Audra grinned, feeling every bit as wild and feral as she must look. “Try it, and I’ll bite your fingers off.”
Nyrah recoiled. “Savage beast. I see now why the gods discarded your race like a dirty rag.”
“I see why the demons plan even now to rip away every last bit of power you possess, and I care not if it leaves you all dead.”
Nyrah opened the door. “Sisters, we must do this quickly before her poisonous views spread to the priestesses and acolytes. Tomorrow, midday with the Sun at his highest, we will gift Him his sacrifice, and He will bestow the realm with His blessing.”
The attending Echoes murmured their assent as the door closed and locked once more.
Audra began to pace.
Could Zhaire free her?
Not for the first time since she’d been dragged to the temple, she tried to follow the connection she felt with Zhaire when she was sleeping, dreaming that same dream where she walked toward him, always toward him. But she could not feel it at all, not within the temple.
Finally, she fell into a fitful rest, hoping to reach him that way—but though she slept, she had no dreams; the obsidian temple did not appear.