CHAPTER 28
Where shadows concealed ambition and devotion dictated favor, Threxus Sated descended, and the eyes of mortals turned toward abundance.
He taught that hunger is both law and temptation, that desire for more can rule as fiercely as any god, and that even the faithful could falter when faced with excess.
Those favored by Threxus prospered beyond measure, while restraint became a test few could pass, and moderation a lesson written in longing and envy.
Snippet from “The Book of Natural History” By Priestess Antonella Killoran
Lyra scrambled to stand, the crystal-clear water of the pool warm beneath her feet.
She immediately looked down at her chest, her breath catching in a raw gasp.
The delicate silk was stained with a violent bloom of crimson, the unmistakable signature of the wound.
But beneath the red stain, the skin was smooth, utterly unbroken.
The agonizing, white-hot spear of pain that had shattered her world moments before was gone.
Hesitantly, her fingertips brushed against the skin, a whisper of apprehension guiding their gentle descent.
The air hung still, charged with the unspoken fear of a sharp sting.
Yet, there was nothing. No pain, no tenderness to betray her death.
It was as if the wound had never been; a smooth, unmarked surface meeting her tentative touch.
The old man’s voice, a low, resonant chime, confirmed the impossible. “Your wound was healed as you fell into Aetherfall. The energy of the divine waters mending what the mortal tried to take."
"Oh," Lyra replied, the single syllable barely a sound, her mind struggling to reconcile the evidence of the vivid red stain with the profound lack of pain.
Her heart, which had just been pierced, was now hammering in her chest, a crescendo of raw nerves building inside her.
The abrupt shift from mortal terror and death to this ethereal, glowing chamber was almost too much to process.
The old man’s gentle smile never wavered. “Permit me to properly introduce myself. I am Eldric Aetherwyn.” He paused; his gaze fixed on hers as he let the name settle. “I am the first male, the first to walk the Elyndra, and the first blessed with the divine light."
Lyra's mossy green eyes widened, conducting an involuntary, rapid survey of the male before her—the pale, simple robes, the ancient, flowing white beard, the eyes that held the depth of untold millennia.
The sheer, impossible weight of his claim settled over her.
Alaios never mentioned him. Our history books never mentioned him.
Who the fuck is he? Is this part of the trial?
He continued, his voice a steady, grounding presence. “And I am the one to guide you through Aetherfall and the trials. Follow me to the first door."
Fear, sharp and cold, immediately cut through the shock.
Lyra looked at him, the uncertainty of her position—the fact that she was here, dead, without warning—too overwhelming to contain.
Alaios’s every word about the trials echoed in her mind, a chilling chorus blooming in her chest, like a suffocating vine constricting her breath.
She blurted out the question that was eating at her most.
"Do you think I’ll fail?” The words, choked and rough like sand, barely stirred within her chest, a silent tremor against the lump in her throat.
The question hung heavy, thick with the sadness that instantly followed.
She felt a profound, crushing sense of loss—the raw grief that she would never return to her human life, the life that, for all its flaws, had been hers.
Thoughts of her family, of their political drama and their flawed love, flashed through her mind, quickly followed by the memory of Alaios—his fierce certainty, his dark eyes, the reckless passion.
Will I ever see him again? See my parents?
My brothers? The questions were a painful anchor weighing her down.
And then, a spike of cold, pure rage at Tavian Creed, the male who had so casually stolen her last breath.
She was here, facing this impossible test, because of a fanatic’s delusion.
What the fuck kind of psychotic break did he have to think he was a part of deciding my fate?
Eldric looked down at her and patted her head, stating, “That is for you to decide."
His words did nothing to calm the nerves digging their claws into her. Lyra frowned, her brow furrowing. “How do I decide?”
“By making the right choices.”
“How will I know they are right?”
A warm smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, a silent, gentle gesture. He offered no words.
“Has anyone ever failed?” She asked, the words thick with the weight of her fear.
He nodded, his ancient eyes solemn. “Many have failed, Lyra. Their stories are not recorded in the history books, for the path ended during the trials. Each trial is something you will face alone, without guidance, and you will decide your fate."
“You make it sound easy,” she grumbled.
“It will not be.” Eldric waved his hand, and the shimmering, crystal-clear wall of the ethereal chamber dissolved, replaced by a path that seemed to be woven from pure, swirling light. “After you,” he said, gesturing toward the newly created archway.
Lyra smiled tentatively, walking toward the luminescence. “Where does it go?” she said, her voice barely a whisper against the low hum of the chamber.
Turning, she looked back at Eldric. He merely waved his hand again toward the pathway, his lips sealed in an unreadable expression. Lyra took a tentative step into the swirling light, the air cool and charged against her skin.
Eldric followed her. They walked down a trail of woven light; the path stretching forward into a soft, endless gray. After what felt like hours, he paused. Out of the thin, gray air, a massive door appeared, unadorned and made of solid, polished obsidian.
He looked at her, his expression now stern. “Open the door and enter the first trial."
“What’s on the other side?” she choked out.
“That is for you to find out.”
On shaky legs, she went to the door, her hand pausing on the cold, heavy doorknob. The black surface was chilling against her palm.
Eldric’s voice boomed from directly behind her, resonating with a power that shook the very air. “Before a goddess may rule others, she must survive herself."
She turned to look at him, fear written on her face, but the door instantly vanished, the air around her rushing inward. Lyra felt herself falling, and she plunged into the cold, sudden darkness.