chapter thirty #2
Marduk moves his teal gaze to me. How have I never noticed he has the same eyes as Reü?
In an instant, I’m back in the farmhouse.
Tied to a chair. Braced. Ice floods my veins as those same eyes that watched me break my own finger bore into mine.
My hand instinctively goes to my healed pinkie, phantom pain shooting through the bone.
“She, on the other hand”—Marduk points a finger toward me, yanking me back to the present moment—“was born and raised to be sacrificed. For the good of all, she needs to die. Do not interfere with her destiny.”
Llyr still refuses to meet my gaze. Even when he takes a step toward me, he keeps his attention fixed on my boots. “Just do as he says, La?na. It will be easier for everyone.” There’s a slight plea to his voice that I only pick up on because I know him so well.
“Then why did you let me go?” I whisper.
Marduk whips around so fast I’m surprised his neck doesn’t snap. “You let her go?” His face contorts with fury, veins bulging along his temples.
Llyr shrugs, but his jaw ticks with tension that tells me he doesn’t take it as easily as he pretends. “I never thought Zerex would accept her entrance, and even if he did, Astēr should have been there.” His face is back to an emotionless mask.
Who is this man? Have I ever really known him? Were his years of caring for my well-being all pretend, nothing but a means to an end—my sacrifice? Deep down, I know he did it out of devotion to Mah, but Mah wants me alive. Does he know that? The words lodge in my throat like broken glass.
Marduk turns to me. “All of that is true, so why are you standing here right now? Your shards are valuable for a reason, but I doubt you took down a god, let alone two.”
Llyr clears his throat. “Could it be that Mah—”
“Of course not. Do you truly believe Mah guided you all these years only to let this”—Marduk gestures dismissively at my transformed appearance—“be the outcome? Now she is as useless as the rest of us against Casimir.” He throws his hands up in exasperation, his voice cracking with frustration.
“More importantly, Astēr will have no chance of taking control of the weave. Not when Casimir’s powers grow by the day, devouring Reā bit by bit. ”
Ilyana steps up by his side. “He has a valid point, Llyr. You knew the outcome when you agreed to do this.” She places a hand on his shoulder.
“What will it be? We will not repeat our offer.” Marduk turns his attention to Seniia and Vilder.
“As much as we appreciate it, we will have to decline,” Seniia says. “We are with her.”
Marduk’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Your mother will not approve.”
“My mother has long stopped paying attention. I doubt she’ll start now.”
A flurry of shadow and light blurs my vision, and the next thing I know, all three C’elēn are flung through the air like rag dolls, their bodies tumbling end over end, landing with a sickening thud on the frozen ground. I wince, my stomach lurching. Are they still alive?
Llyr sits up and rubs his head, blood running down his forehead, and Marduk jumps to his feet with predatory grace, but Ilyana remains still.
Upon seeing her, Llyr rushes over to her still form, kneeling by her side.
He closes his eyes for a moment, and then Ilyana stirs, blinking her eyes open, and Llyr helps her stand.
She raises a hand toward Llyr’s head wound, but he waves her off. “Later.”
“Astēr.” Marduk’s voice could have been carved from stone.
Frozen bone cracks under Astēr’s heavy boots as he moves across the field toward where he carelessly threw them.
The archers turn toward Astēr, but he barely shoots them a glance before he turns his attention back to the three C’elēn.
“Your strings are as long as a bad year, and unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about it.” He stares Marduk down, death itself written across his features. “Yet.” His voice is tight with barely suppressed rage.
Arrows whiz through the air.
“Astēr!” My scream echoes through the night, the chilling sound barely registering over the thud of three arrows piercing his torso.
I needn’t have worried though. Astēr pulls them out and tosses them aside as if they’re nothing but a nuisance.
His upper lip curls back, revealing his canines as he turns toward the archers and knocks them out with a flick of his wrist. He gives the three C’elēn an incredulous look.
Llyr, at least, has the grace to look sheepish.
“Give us our powers back,” Marduk growls. “Gods, Astēr, we are supposed to be on the same side. Your father—”
Astēr seizes Marduk by his collar and hoists him up. “My father can burn for all I care.”
Marduk’s expression doesn’t shift by so much as a muscle twitch. If he’s surprised by the outburst, he doesn’t show it.
Llyr’s gaze flickers between me and Astēr, uncertainty etched across his ageless features.
“You are willing to give up your elevation to higher god for her?” Llyr’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries the weight of mountains. “How? Why?”
Marduk, despite hanging two feet off the ground, holds firm, his jaw clenched, unyielding. He lifts his chin, his face hardening into a mask of chilling pragmatism.
“I do not know what your objection is—you are only to gain from this, after all—but Ilyana is right. Llyr knew what he signed up for; she was sired to be sacrificed. What is one life compared to the greater good of all?” The callousness in his words is matched only by the unwavering conviction blazing in his eyes.
“I cannot tell you what one life is, Keeper. But I will tell you what her life is.” Astēr tightens his grip on Marduk’s collar, pulling his face closer.
“The loss of her is a constant, soul-crushing agony, a relentless, throbbing ache. It’s a fresh wound, a searing burn that never heals, and it has left me in agonizing pain every single day for a millennium.
I don’t know if your sorry mortal existence understands this, but eternal life means eternal pain, a never-ending misery pressing me down, stealing my breath, and slowly, ever so slowly, driving me into insanity. ”
The fiery heat of his words consumes me, every syllable a brand searing into my skin.
Vilder lets out a low whistle while Seniia sighs softly next to me. I shoot her a glance from the corner of my eye. Her hand flutters to her heart, eyes glazed with romantic longing. I shake my head at her antics.
“Emotions should be controlled,” Marduk says, stepping away from Astēr, who’s finally released his grip on him.
“Being ruled by them? Void! See where that has gotten us!” He narrows his eyes at Astēr.
“So please excuse my lack of interest in your little romance,” he sneers, “because Reā is slowly being eaten by the Void, and you were the one expected to save it!” The weight of the world seems to press down on his words.
When he puts it like that . . .
“I’ll give my life,” I say before courage abandons me. Marduk is right. What is one life if this beautiful planet can survive? If I don’t, a lot more people, humans and Reāns alike, will certainly die.
“Oh no you will not,” Astēr snaps at the same time Marduk says, “Thank Zerex she is coming to her senses.”
Llyr takes a tentative step forward. “La?na—”
“Don’t you dare be a fool too, Llyr!” Marduk throws his hands up in the air. He looks to Ilyana. “Talk some sense into him, will you?”
“If you would shut up for just a moment and listen,” Astēr snarls, his fury radiating like heat from a forge. He pushes a finger into Marduk’s chest. “I could have excused your ignorance since you so clearly do not know that she”—Astēr points at me—“is my mate.”
Marduk’s face remains passive save for the single blink that flashes across it, a hairline crack in his composure. Llyr’s face, however, drains of all color, his skin turning ashen.
“What I have a hard time accepting”—Astēr spins toward Llyr—“is how you, her father, would have allowed her to be sacrificed without a fight. Void, Llyr! As a devotee of Mah, you know how much she values choice—our choices are what make us who we are. Then who are you, Llyr? Someone who acts in blind faith, or someone who thinks for himself? Are you no better than his people? No better than the people of Bronich?”
What? The world stops. My mind goes completely blank, thoughts scattering like startled birds.
Cold sweat beads on my skin as the taste of disbelief turns bitter on my tongue.
Llyr . . . My father? And my mother—did he give up her life too?
No. Not now. I can’t think about that right now.
Icy fingers squeeze around my heart, crushing the air from my lungs.
Not when my own father is willing to sacrifice me.
The ground seems to tilt beneath my feet.
I can hardly make out Marduk’s words as he goes on. “Gods, this is even worse! Postponing this—having her alive—is a risk we cannot take. What if Casimir gets his hands on her again? We will not stand a chance.”
“Maybe there is anoth—”
“No!” Marduk snaps, cutting Llyr off. “The real threat is how he”—he points an accusatory finger toward Astēr—“is willing to give up everything for her. That makes her more dangerous than anything or anyone else. Because to him, she is more important than the world.”
Like mist above a lake, his words hang in the silent night air.
When no one utters another word, I lift my chin, my voice trembling but defiant as I say, “You do not decide for me. None of you do.” The last word escapes as a choked sob. I cannot deal with this right now. I need space. Room to breathe.
Spinning on my heel, I set off across the Plains of Death, bones crunching beneath my feet as I run.
DAWN brEAKS AS I FINALLY slow my pace. Something dark glistens between the windswept trees ahead. I move toward it, my boots crunching over frost-covered ground. As I draw closer, the shape resolves—tall, ancient, its five black facets carved with symbols I can barely make out in the dim light.
It’s a veilstone. I let my fingers glide across its smooth surface.
Was I the one who used the veilstone when we escaped Bronich, and not Llyr, as I thought?
Llyr made it clear that only veilwalkers can use the pillars and that neither he nor anyone he knows had that skill. But what if Nana did? What if I do?
I circle the pillar, studying its different facets. If I can make it work, I can be far away from here in no time. This night has brought more revelations than I can handle, and I need a little time to figure things out—figure myself out—before I face any of them again. Especially Llyr. And Astēr.
My pulse quickens as warmth spreads through my core. I press my hand to my chest, trying to slow my racing heart. No. I won’t let myself feel this way. Love is just another kind of cage, another way to lose control of my own life.
Craning my neck, I squint at the many symbols carved into the dark stone. I understand that its five facets lead to five different destinations, but the names are carved in glyphs I don’t know. I’ll have to take a chance.
Come on, Nana. Why isn’t this part of your memory? I’m sure you could read them at some point. But no matter how much I prod, there isn’t a sliver of recognition.
With my back against the pillar, I slide to the ground, finding refuge from the wind on the sheltered side.
The surrounding windswept tundra is quiet except for the wind and a flock of distant birds chirping as they greet the new day.
I can sense Seniia and Vilder somewhere to the northeast, and although I cannot pick up on their states at this distance, at least they seem to still be together.
Pulling the warm, soft furs tighter around myself, I rest my forehead on my knees, trying to block out the light.
Under my skin, powers course through me, and the buzz is nothing if not intoxicating.
Acutely aware of why others would want to seize it, I rub my temples, pushing back the incoming headache.
Powerful or not, my body is on the brink of giving in.
And although I intended to move, I don’t find the strength to do so as my eyelids slide shut.
I just need a little time to rest. Then I’ll be fine.
THE FIRST THING I NOTICE when I open my eyes is the eerie stillness.
There are no winds stirring the trees. No birds chirping.
In fact, there is not one sound, as if the forest itself is holding its breath.
The spindly leafless trees cast ghostly shadows across the clearing where I now sit with my back toward the veilstone.
I feel . . . different. A little similar to wearing a brace. I stare up at the thick gray cloud cover. It is more or less impossible to discern what time of day it is.
Pushing to my feet, I groan. My muscles are killing me.
There’s a path leading out of the clearing, though I have no clue where it will lead.
I shrug. At least I can use the brace to hide until I’m ready to face life again.
The brace. I rummage through my satchel, relieved to find it still resting at the bottom of my pack.
The soft crunching sound of boots on frozen soil breaks the unnatural quiet, the sound thunderous in the eerie stillness, and I realize—much too late—that it was foolhardy of me to think I would be left alone, even here.
Hand on my shadowshard, I whirl, ready to rip apart anyone who dares stand between me and my freedom, only to have all the blood drain from my features.
Eyes the color of a midnight sea roam across my body. A heartbeat later, they lock with mine, and a vicious smile spreads across his devastatingly beautiful face.
“Hello, Nana, darling.”