Chapter Ninety-Three
Ellowyn
My boots padded silently over the cobbled courtyard at the back of the manor. It’d been over two years since I’d stepped foot in what was once my homeland, and the time away seemed to have taken a toll both on the manor in Katiska and my own soul.
I was not the person who left this place, yet my chest constricted painfully as memories swam like ghosts, recreating both the most beautiful and most painful moments of my upbringing.
Now, though, even the pleasant memories were tainted by the knowledge that my father never truly cared about me, only what I could offer him in terms of power and influence.
I felt no regret in leaving him and my mother to rot in the dungeons beneath the Academy. Cruel? Perhaps. But no less than either of them deserved.
I was not a pawn to be used for others’ whims and personal gain.
I was a queen, a wife, a goddess.
Torin showed me that.
I proved my own worth.
So I moved through the outskirts of the manor with a detached curiosity, noting the dilapidated walls and overgrown flowers without feeling anything toward them. It was no longer my home—Torin held that responsibility now—and I viewed it as simply another house.
One that I happened to know intimately.
I crossed the courtyard quickly, keeping my face and hair tucked beneath a brown hooded cloak lest a servant recognize me. That would derail our plans completely and was not something I could afford.
With deft movements, I quickly called upon my Destruction Magic to eat away at a portion of the vines crawling along the stucco and stones of the manor’s exterior. It was as easy as breathing, my magic responding to every minute thought and gesture without breaking a sweat.
My power receded into my veins, exposing a small section of wall and a tiny square fissure.
I depressed the small square, reveling in my triumph as a hidden door popped open with a dull clunk. Debris and dust fell from the opening, crackling against the ground as remnant vines snapped and dangled loosely.
Clearly, this hidden entrance hadn’t been used in quite some time. Funny, because it was the only pathway I used to visit the lavender fields out back.
Perhaps Dria hated them—or simply didn’t know this existed.
Snickering at the idea that the house kept secrets from its newest occupant, I slipped inside after checking my surroundings to assure myself I wasn’t being followed.
Satisfied, I closed the door with a dull thunk, encasing myself in the darkness of the servant’s passageways that lined the interior of the home.
It took a minute for my eyes to adjust and to gather my bearings, but I quickly ascended the narrow wooden staircase, taking care to keep my steps light despite my speed.
My feet moved with an assuredness that only came from countless years of taking this very passageway.
This—not the manor to my right—was where I always felt most at home, in the shadows and belly of the beast.
I laughed quietly. How could I not see it before, that I didn’t truly belong here? That my mother’s hatred was not normal?
What a fool I was . . . or maybe just a girl who so desperately wanted to be loved by the people who claimed to be blood.
On I climbed, making my way toward the highest floor, where I was certain Dria kept her room.
If I could corner her there, without any prying eyes, then our conversation could be quick and perfunctory.
All I needed was to scare her a bit; flex my powers as the Goddess of .
. . well, many different things, and ensure that she kept Hestin’s borders closed to any incoming force.
I came upon a split in the hallway, the staircase leveling off to a small wooden platform. To my right were the bedrooms for the ruling family, while the left held servants’ corridors. I turned right, but movement to my left caught my attention.
Frowning, I paused to listen and caught a streak of familiar brown hair. Whoever it was moved just as silently as I did, belaying their years of experience sneaking from place to place.
Servants—at least when I called Hestin home—whistled and clunked through the walls, always announcing their presence before they appeared in one room or another. I needed to continue onward, but something in my gut told me to follow the flash of brown hair.
“Really, Fate? Now?” I grumbled quietly, cracking my knuckles and neck in frustration before giving in to the pull and making my way down the left hallway.
There was a faint scent here, almost like the incense that burned in the Temple of Fate, and it only grew stronger the further I walked. I strained my ears, desperately searching for even a hint of sound that would indicate where the mysterious person disappeared.
A soft click from up ahead had me grinning in wicked victory, and I turned just in time to see a door shut.
I approached cautiously, making sure to keep my steps and movements silent, and pressed myself against the wall adjacent, listening for any movement inside.
After a moment, I frowned. The lack of any noise at all indicated that an Air Ward was in effect inside the room, and my hackles suddenly rose.
What is Dria hiding?
With a deep breath, I raised my leg and kicked in the door with one powerful motion. I perhaps kicked harder than necessary, because the door flung open, bouncing off the wall with a crack. The woman with brown hair spun on her heel, eyes wild and wide, Air Magic springing to her palms.
After the initial shock of my intrusion wore off, I dropped the hold on my magic, pushing back my hood to reveal my face.
The woman’s eyes widened with shock as we both recognized each other.
“Goddess?”
“Pip?”
We asked simultaneously.
“What are you doing here?”
She hissed her question, a bead of concern bleeding through as mine was stated in pure confusion.
I paused, raising an eyebrow in her direction. The last I’d seen her was before my marriage to Alois, when she convinced me to sleep with him before disappearing completely. I assumed she’d left out of disgust for my actions, and never anticipated seeing her again, especially not here.
My eyes pulled from her face that flowed between a dozen emotions, her thin lip caught between her teeth.
The room was small, barely larger than a storage room, really. A small cot was pushed against the far wall, a pillow and thin blanket thrown on top almost as an afterthought. What really drew my attention, however, was the litany of papers that adorned the walls.
Every square inch of the sloped ceiling and wooden walls was covered with maps and charts.
I recognized the architectural layout of the manor as well as an artistic rendition of Meru—cracked landscape and fighting magics etched in fascinating accuracy.
Next to it was a similar picture—the mountain instantly recognizable—but instead of the landscape I knew intimately, there was a thriving field with animals I’d never seen before.
The forest was thick and lush, the magic cleared from the heavens.
I squinted, blood running cold at the date etched into the corner of the paper.
That . . . that can’t be.
It was dated thousands of years in the future.
What the fuck?
Pip moved to obstruct my view of the picture, but I simply cast my gaze elsewhere, overwhelmed by the drawings and charts, unease flowing through my veins.
There was an architectural map inscribed with Fate’s Rune, nearly obscured by large pictures of overlapping concentric circles inscribed with names that sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place.
“Who are you?” I finally asked, a new respect and fear erupting in my veins for the woman who stood in front of me.
Her expression was hard, formidable even, and I frowned.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I said, holding my hands up in a placating gesture.
“Then why are you here, Goddess of Death?” Pip asked, hardness in every syllable. Gone was the timid girl—if she was ever truly that in the first place.
“To intimidate Dria,” I responded absently, now feeling incredibly foolish for this little plan in the face of something so very . . . other.
“I have it under control,” she growled back, fingers carving through her messy brown waves. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Why not?”
“It’s messing with the flow of time . . .” She mumbled something too low for me to hear as she began to pace back and forth in the small space.
She almost seemed . . . unhinged.
“Who are you, Pip?” I asked again, softer this time.
“My name is not Pip,” she spat, and I fell back a step.
“I’m sorry. What am I to—”
“Nothing. You don’t call me anything. Acolyte is fine.
” She continued her pacing and muttering, pulling her hair as she walked.
Abruptly, she stopped in front of a chart, finger tracing the mishmash of numbers and runes that made little sense to me but apparently formed some sort of message for her.
Pip quickly smudged one with her finger before procuring a charcoal stick from gods knew where and etched a few other runes and numbers in a line below the smudge.
“You must leave. Fate demands it,” she called over her shoulder.
Suddenly, understanding washed over me, causing my heart to thump loudly in my chest.
“Acolyte. Fate. You work for him. You’re one of his.”
She grunted something as she continued to write, oblivious to how my world just shattered. Years of interactions with acolytes and priests of Fate came rushing back to me, and I tried to discern if Pip was in any—or all—of them.
Was I manipulated my whole life?
“Yes and no. It’s no longer important.” Apparently, I’d asked that aloud.
Pip spun to face me, charcoal smeared across the freckles on her pale face.
Her brown eyes flashed with panic. “What is important is that you leave. Now. You weren’t supposed to be here—none of us foresaw this.
If you stay, Elyria falls. You must leave, now. ”
Pip began ushering me toward the door, and I followed, stumbling in bewilderment.
“But Dria—”
“Is handled. Samyr and Solace will not come through Hestin. Your mission here was wasteful. And dangerous,” she muttered the last part.
“Leave the way you came. But make haste back to Deucena. Without you, Solace will kill Faylinn first. Then turn her ire to Torin. Once they are gone, Elyria will fall in short order.”
I allowed her to push me through the door, pausing on the landing outside.
“Go, Goddess of Death. Live true to your name.” With that, Pip slammed the door in my face and locked it for good measure.
I stood dumbfounded in the hallway before physically shaking myself and replacing my hood.
What in Fate just happened?