chapter twenty-eight #2
“This path is a path of rebirth. It requires that you enter skyclad, with no more than you had the day you came into this world. It will also require a sacrifice. You can bring one thing, and one thing only, that you believe can help you complete the task that awaits.”
Naked? Sacrifice? Why didn’t they mention this before?
“Please discard your garments and step into the cavern, carrying only your chosen object.”
It’s too late for regrets now. Folding my wet clothes, I place them next to my satchel. Then I grab my shadowshard as my item of choice.
“Destruction is not allowed on the path of the soul.” Given its tone of voice, this is something I should have been aware of.
I curse under my breath and wrap the shadowshard in a piece of cloth before I place it in the satchel.
Should I bring the brace? No, even though it’s great for blocking the use of magic, something tells me that’s not what I want.
My fingers brush against the cool glass jar gifted by the dark-eyed lady.
She gave it to me when she told me to seek out this place.
Maybe it will be of value. It can’t hurt, and frankly, unless I want to bring a piece of clothing, I’m out of options.
I stare down at my naked body, my fingers trailing the silvery scar on my lower abdomen.
If not for the multitude of scars, it would be hard to remember my days in Bronich, covered to my fingertips.
How is it that no more than three moons ago, my blisters and pain were the amusement of the party?
With everything that has happened, it feels like a lifetime ago, if not another life entirely.
With a tight grip on the glass jar, I cautiously make my way toward the open tunnel. Darkness obscures whatever lies on the other side from my view. Stealing one final glance at my belongings, I gather my courage and take a step into the unknown.
THE DARKNESS SWALLOWS ME ONCE more as I walk through the tunnel.
There’s no light to be seen, not even in the distance, but the cave walls are narrow enough for me to graze their edges if I reach my arms out, and so I walk, fingers brushing the rough walls for orientation.
Its resemblance to a birth channel is not lost on me.
Welcome to your rebirth, La?na.
After what feels like an eternity, I step out into a spacious cave.
With one glance around, I instantly want to retreat back into the dark embrace of the tunnel.
Hundreds of candles illuminate the cave, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows across my naked body, but that isn’t what has me on edge. The mirrors are.
I’ve always struggled to face myself, and the endless reflections of the cave walls make me dizzy and sick to my stomach.
Closing my eyes, I shut out the disorienting images, but instead, I end up tripping on the uneven cave floor.
Stumbling forward, I fall to my knees and narrowly avoid dropping the glass jar.
Holding it tight, I let out a curse—then quickly apologize for swearing in such a sacred place.
Way to go, La?na. You’re off to a great start.
On my knees, I study the engravings etched into the cave floor, brushing the glyphs and numbers with my fingertips.
Soft rays of light strike my face as I move forward, and I lift my gaze toward the hole in the ceiling.
The circular opening is small, but it allows some of the soft moonlight to stream down into the cave.
It also lets me know the Mi’Awal Moon is not in position yet.
The way the moon’s rays hit the diagram on the cave floor tells me as much.
It’s close though. There can’t be more than a quarter of a bell left at most. I rub my lower back, trying to ease the sharp, persistent ache. If only I knew what I’m supposed to do.
A fleeting movement in my peripheral vision grabs my attention, and I instinctively turn my head to look, only to instantly wish I hadn’t.
Defeat hits me in my core. I should have known that they wouldn’t just let me walk in and gather my soul shards.
Never mind that the pieces were mine to begin with.
No one seems to pay that little fact much heed.
I want to kick and scream at myself for being so utterly stupid.
How on Reā did I ever believe that I, a human who’s barely made a single decision for myself my entire life, could outsmart a god?
I could have had it all. Life. Freedom. But I made the wrong choice, and now I will pay for it.
“You made it.” Astēr’s voice is soft.
“So did you.” And now I’ll die, and so will Seniia and Vilder. All because of my stupid, stupid mistake. How could I even for a second think that I could have it all?
“I did.” His face gives nothing away.
“Then what are you waiting for?” I scowl at him. Why is he just standing there? “Although I honestly cannot fathom what difference a couple pieces of my soul will do to your power.”
His jaw ticks, but he says nothing.
“Is that how you gods stay alive?” I continue.
“By devouring human souls?” I might as well get some answers before I die.
“And you criticize your brother for drawing powers from the Void. Hypocrites, are we?” I rub my aching back.
Why didn’t I ask Seniia for a healing before I came in here?
Not that it matters anymore. Eternal rest will take care of that.
Astēr flinches slightly at the mention of his brother, but otherwise, he shows no reaction. He just continues to stare at me, his golden eyes locked with mine. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was struggling to contain himself.
“Got nothing to say for yourself?”
His eyes flicker away, only to sweep across my body with a slowness that makes me painfully aware of my nakedness.
Cheeks burning, I do my best to sit in a way that covers me, but it’s futile.
“Who did that to you?” His voice is tight with barely suppressed fury.
“Did what? Took my clothes off? That was me. I’m sorry if my nakedness appalls you, but I wasn’t allowed to enter this cave unless I did so.” I’ve seen his standards. It’s not me.
“Not your clothes,” he snaps. “Your scars.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. Then I glance down at my naked body and the burn marks lining the insides of my arms and legs, where the skin is at its thinnest and hurt the most.
“I’m surprised you don’t know. You have no trouble infiltrating my mind, from what I remember.”
“I don’t—Void!” He shakes his head, exasperated, as if he’s explained this too many times. “You would have had to think about it.”
That makes sense.
“I was property,” I say, unsure why I bother to answer him.
When he just continues to stare at me, I add, “Braced.” I lift my left arm for emphasis.
“My master thought commanding me to burn myself with hot coal was great entertainment for his guests, and it seems he was right, because they kept coming back, and he kept commanding me to do so.” I stare at my hands, my voice thinning to a whisper.
“They would bet money on how long it would take before I would scream out in pain. I didn’t want to give them the pleasure, so I pushed myself until I passed out instead.
” I don’t meet his eyes; I have no need of his condescending sympathy.
He doesn’t reply, and an uncomfortable silence fills the space. Will it hurt to die? My only hope is that he will be quick about it and not let me suffer unnecessarily. If only Vilder and Seniia could still get to live . . .
Clenching my teeth, I dig my nails into my palms. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Our sacrifice will save Reā. That will have to be enough.
“You cannot ask this of me, Father.” Astēr’s voice is barely audible, but the anguish in his tone makes my head snap up. Are those . . . tears in his eyes? My heart aches at the sight, his grief somehow echoing my own. And may the gods help me, but all I want is to wipe them away.
What is wrong with you, La?na?
He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Forgive me,” he whispers. Then he looks at me. “You need to go,” he says, voice firm.
I frown. “Go where?” If he needs me to go somewhere for him to kill me, he’ll have to carry me. I’m not going down without a fight.
He gestures toward the intricate circle, where the rays of the five moons entwine, close to hitting its center.
“Why?” Could that circle be a ceremonial offering stone?
“Stop arguing and do as I say.” He strides toward me and hauls me to my feet, then holds me by my shoulders, his touch surprisingly gentle.
I stare square into his chest, my nakedness and his proximity leaving me speechless.
“Void! I’m trying to save your life, La?na.”
Save me? I glance up. His beautiful mouth is drawn into a thin line.
“Please do not make me regret it.” He runs a hand through his midnight-blue waves.
“Why?” I repeat. It seems to be the only word left in my vocabulary.
He holds my gaze. “I have one million reasons, and they are all utterly selfish.” His eyes are like golden stars in the dim cave.
“When we have more time, I will tell you every single one.” Taking ahold of my shoulders, he turns me around and gives me a light shove. “Now go, or I can no longer help you.”
Stepping onto two engravings that look to be markings to place one’s feet, I close my eyes and lift my chin, allowing the moonlight to wash over my naked body.
What just happened? Why would he save my life?
Is this a trap? My stomach drops. Of course.
I glance over my shoulder, but he’s gone, and I’m left with only the reflections of myself in the mirrors. Maybe he was genuine.
A sudden gust of wind whips across my bare arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake, but I stand firm, holding on to my hope.
“Truths,” the wind whispers. “You are searching for truths.” It twists and turns around my body, gliding across my bare limbs in an intimate caress. “Yet lies are all around you. All that meet your eyes.”
My shoulders sag. Does that mean Astēr lied to me after all? I push the thought away. I will know soon enough.
“I am here for what is rightfully mine,” I say. “My soul shards.” I’m careful to make my voice sound firm, as if I have a right to claim them.
“Mm,” the wind hums, sounding pleased. “The shards are pieces of truth indeed.”
“Then I am here for the truth,” I say.
“But which truths are yours? That is the question.”
“I don’t know,” I say. It never occurred to me that I would have to be more specific.
“Then we shall have to find out,” says the wind. God. Whatever it is.
“How?”
“Why, the way it is always done: through a blood offering, though no skin can be torn.”
My heart sinks. How can anyone call forth blood without piercing skin? The only way I can think of is through magic, but I have none of that. I stare at the small dip in the center, between my feet, and the carving of a palm-size glyph running out from it. Is that where the blood is supposed to go?
“Can you please be more specific?” I plead, but the silence stretches on. I’m so tired of being set up to fail. Void! Why does everything have to be so frustratingly hard? Is this why Astēr let me go? Because he knew I would fail? Why kill me himself when my ignorance will do it for him?
I more sense than see the moment the moon comes into position. Its rays leave a tingling sensation across my body.
I have failed.