Chapter 47
They are coming.
The Black feels them already.
He says they cannot fight in the Sea, but do I trust him?
Why does he not leave the land and stay here in safety, then?
~The Darkness, Words in the Void
Fiona
I whirl around to see a woman who stands shorter than me, covered in a gray, gauzy shroud of a dress. The veil covers her face entirely, and the only skin I can make out are her pale hands that end in sharp gray nails and the skin exposed by the deep v-neckline of her dress.
Instantly, I know this is not some Godforged I’ve never heard of.
No, this is a goddess, and my body freezes.
There is only one who’s ever been described like this.
Saelira, the Goddess of Destiny. Even amongst the gods, there are squabbles, but no one dares bicker with her.
She took no part in the war games of Nyth, never claiming a kingdom as her own.
My mind whirs with any information that I’ve ever heard about her.
“Saelira,” I whisper and kneel to bow my head, acutely aware of my nudity and the situation I was in only moments ago with Azric.
There’s nothing against any of the gods’ rules for the two of us to be intimate together, but being caught in the act still seems like I’ve done something wrong.
The goddess steps toward me, her bare feet making no sound as she steps. “Stand, Fiona Thorne. We must speak.”
I instantly rise and look at the goddess, knowing she can see everything I am, everything I’ve done, and possibly even what I will do in the future. Yet, I can’t make out anything about her through her veil.
“You are in danger,” she says softly. “You and the Prince have both made choices that have solidified the branching of paths within your destinies.”
I frown. “I don’t understand, Goddess. I…”
“Hush and listen, child. I am not here to declare a cryptic prophecy and leave. Your path is important. You understand many have guided your life since before you were born. My brethren and I do not manipulate the strings of destiny lightly. Your life has been of immense importance, and thus we’ve made sure you walked the correct path. ”
I nod in understanding. There’s no doubt in my mind that my life’s been guided since birth.
“Good. And now that your path is set, there is nothing I nor any other god can do to change the choice that lies before you.”
I hesitate to speak, but I’m becoming lost in where this is going again. “What choice?”
“The choice to continue in Nyxthos’s competition. If you compete in the next trial, you will die.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the words. Saelira is never wrong. She can see the lines of destiny as clearly as I see the walls of this room.
“And if I leave it?” I ask.
“You will live. I, and everyone else on Nyth, need you to live, Fiona Thorne. The future of this world depends on it.”
I glance at Azric, who still stands motionless, his hand outstretched. “What will happen to everyone else if I leave the competition?”
Saelira hesitates for a moment as though my words surprised her.
“Another will die in your place. The Kingdom of Dunloch will fall. Thousands will die. The last duskthorn tree will die. The veilrunners will be eliminated. The skryths will become nothing but myth. But you will live, and Nyth may yet survive.”
“There’s no way I will survive if I step foot into the last trial?”
“You will die.” She says it in a flat voice as though there’s no room for argument.
I hesitate for a moment, and then I ask. “What will happen to Dunloch if I compete?”
Saelira’s jaw tightens. “Dunloch will escape. The duskthorn trees will survive. The skryths and veilrunners will continue to hunt in the shadows. The darkness will live.”
I want to turn away from her. I want to hide from the truth.
Saelira is never wrong. But just like so many times in my life, I cannot run from reality.
It’s a dark and terrible world that I live in.
It’s a world where sacrifices are necessary, and I’ve always known that my life would end fighting for others.
Rhaskar Thorne taught me that running when you could save people was always the wrong decision.
Just as I told Thomas Wellen, the Priest in that tiny village on the outskirts of Averna a lifetime ago, a Priest is a brick in the wall against the storm.
A brick may crumble; a Priest may die. It is the brick’s purpose to crumble to keep those inside that wall safe. The brick will be replaced.
I may not be a Priest or be a part of the Order. I may not even see Sylvantia as the only kingdom worth fighting for. Rhaskar might not even be the man I thought he was, but I can’t turn away from the morals I’ve lived by my entire life.
“If it saves Dunloch, I will compete in the final trial,” I say.
“You risk Nyth in its entirety by doing so,” she says with a confidence I certainly don’t have. “Your life has more meaning than a few thousand Godforged and humans.”
I shake my head and face the Goddess of Destiny with certainty in my heart.
“I will never run from a fight to protect people who can’t protect themselves.
My life is not worth more than thousands, and I will gladly lay it down to save them.
Azric Cyrus will find another way to protect Nyth without me.
He is the Champion of Nyth. I’m nothing more than a brick in the wall against those that would try to destroy the goodness of this world. ”
Saelira stares at me for several long moments.
“I cannot make this choice for you, Fiona Thorne. My godhood does not allow me to interfere in the world’s destiny once the path is clear, but I hope you reconsider.
Your life is far more valuable than those thousands.
There is not another alive like you, and there is not time to recreate the path you have walked. Destruction comes for all if you die.”
“Is that a destiny?” I ask, feeling far more confident in my decision with every word the goddess speaks. “Or is it a possibility?”
“A strong possibility,” she says, and I nod to her.
“My decision is made, and I won’t be swayed from it.”
The Goddess of Destiny stares at me for the breadth of several heartbeats before saying, “So be it.”
Then she’s gone, and everything returns to normal.
“Fiona?” Azric says from behind me, and I turn to face him. There’s a look of fear on his face, and all thoughts of what we were doing a few moments ago are gone from my mind. “What happened?”
I feel myself shrinking, but one thing stands out clearly in my mind. The last thing I want to do is tell anyone the prophecy Saelira gave me. If you compete in the next trial, you will die.
I don’t say a word, and Azric is beside me in a moment, his powerful hands pulling me toward him.
I’d felt powerful when I spoke to the goddess.
I’d been the woman Rhaskar had taught me to be, willing to defy the strongest being on Nyth, willing to face my death to save the ones who can’t save themselves.
In that moment, I was what the Order wanted from every single one of their Priests. I was fearless, selfless, and a perfect image of what I’ve always held dear. But now… Now, I’m falling apart.
Azric runs his hand over my back as he pulls me against his chest. Silent tears roll down my cheeks, and there aren’t words to tell him.
I don’t even have words to tell myself. The decision was simple, but acting on that decision is going to be the hardest thing I ever do.
Every Priest expects to die in battle. I was raised with Rhaskar’s teachings in the back of my mind.
There’s a reason there are so few old Priests. We die so others can live.
I just hadn’t expected to know when it was going to happen.
“Fiona, how did you move across the room without me seeing?” he whispers. His hand never stops the soothing movement over my skin. It’s strangely human to feel him comfort me like this.
How do you put words to thoughts like these? How do you give them shape and realness. My mind can’t grasp them completely. Thinking hard about them is like trying to reach out and grab the wind. They’re everywhere, in every moment, but to consider them is impossible.
Because if I could truly see, feel, or accept those thoughts, it would mean I could accept that I have less than a week to live.
Instead, I pull away from Azric and look into those burning eyes. “I think I need to lie down. Will you hold me?”
His gaze lingers for half a breath before he nods. His nails run over my cheek just as they did the first time I met him, but this time, there’s no seduction in the movement. It’s soft. It’s kind. He takes my hand and leads me behind him to the bed where I’d thought we’d be making love.
Instead, as I lie down in it, he wraps his arm around me. A wing made of bone and shadow covers me. He’s everywhere, and I breathe in his scent. I sink into his warmth.
In this moment, I don’t think I could imagine myself anywhere else. Not in Stormhaven or in an embrace with Rhaskar. No, Azric is my anchor. He is the rock I cling to as the storm of fear threatens to sweep me away.
I give in to that warmth and his dark and powerful scent. Because tonight, he is not my enemy or even my ally. He’s the only person in the world.