Chapter 51
I have saved Saelira for last to speak of. We know so little of her. She takes no part in any of the gods’ conflicts. She disappears for years or even decades at a time. But when she speaks, even the gods would be fools to ignore her.
~Cedric Penrose, A Treatise on the Gods and Their Powers
Fiona
Three days have passed, and I have stayed away from Azric as much as possible.
I found another secret place in Castle Lachlan, just like that little prison cell Darian and I had hidden in.
I’ve spent those days staring at the Khorra cards Darian left me, remembering him and the days and weeks we spent together.
Darian’s death is a soul wound I don’t think I want to heal. It will shape me just as his life did. I will carry the lessons he taught me close to my heart, and I will carry his death as a warning of what it means to allow the gods to meddle.
I look at the champion cards and see Echo, the strongest wielder of shadows and greatest Mage.
She was the Queen of Shadows before the gods began their war.
She wasn’t even as old as I am now when she took up her crown, and yet she led an army.
But she was born into a world of magic and knew what her future held.
Then there’s Erik and Rurik’s father, Brandor Halden.
A wielder of lightning that can fire it off as quickly as I can fire my bow.
A man slightly past his prime who had an entire lifetime of ruling humans and had never dreamed of doing anything other than avoiding magic as much as possible.
Yet, he too accepted his role. He should have been preparing his sons to take over for him.
He should have stepped further and further away from directly managing his kingdom.
Instead, he stepped up and became the Champion of Marek, the God of Storms.
I slide the card to the back and look at the Prince of Bones. In the picture, he’s still beautiful, but he’s so young. He’s younger than me in the image, but there’s a strength in his eyes that the artist captured perfectly. It’s the same one he showed me when he began training me.
He was so young, but he already knew he would lead the world against the ones who would come to kill us all.
There was no doubt in his mind that he’d have to do terrible things to accomplish it.
He didn’t know how he’d become strong enough, only that he had to.
His army had already been fighting for seventy years, and he didn’t start as a simple soldier.
No, the first day he took up his title, he became their champion.
He stood tall, not only against his enemies, but also against his own troops.
I will either die, or I’ll have to do the same.
Thousands of Godforged Mages will be under my command; their powers still a little unclear to me.
I will have to look them in the eyes and order them to their deaths.
I will wield shadows like Echo and slaughter hundreds of Godforged, knowing that they won’t be coming back.
Somehow, I’ll have to be strong enough to bear the burden of their deaths. Can I do that? They aren’t my actual enemies any longer. Darian told me we were all pieces in a game, and unlike him, I think I’m beginning to understand the scope of that game board.
There aren’t any enemies on Nyth any longer.
Well, none except the gods. We’ve all been doing what we were forced to do.
Brandor may have slaughtered human villages, but that was to save Nyth and his people.
He accepted his place as the Champion of Marek just as Azric accepted his place as the Prince of Bones.
He did it because he didn’t have any other choice.
His training was just as full of torment as Azric’s.
His soul must be heavy from the weight of all his scars.
I will have to become just like them, deciding whether human lives are as important as preparing to fight the Hunters. Those soul wounds will be mine to bear. I will have to make decisions that will turn me into a monster, just like I thought each of the champions were.
The tears roll down my cheeks as I accept the last thing I ever wanted. I wanted to save people. I’ve lived my entire life with a crystal-clear idea of how to do that. Kill those who want to hurt them.
But I can’t fight this war on my own, and the Godforged require power just as humans require food. I need them to be as strong as possible. I need them to fight and hold their own.
I have to become a monster to save everyone. That terrible question will become mine to answer: will I kill some of the ones I swore to protect to save the rest?
I stand up as the tears roll down my cheeks unfettered. I need to talk to the first one who had to make this choice. Maybe he’ll be able to explain how anyone makes the terrible decision to become the thing they swore to protect people from.
I need to talk to the one who started all of this, the one whose single choice doomed all of Nyth. I need to speak to Calyr the Gold, the dragon who woke the gods.
I step into Azric’s chambers to see him at his desk. He’s holding the feathered end of a quill against his cheek as he leans back in his chair. The soft brown feather brushes the short hair on his cheek as he stares at the wall without making a sound.
“Yes?” he asks as I draw closer to him. “What do you need?”
There’s no anger in his voice, but it’s cold.
Unlike our flight on Inni and the night before, there’s no warmth to his voice.
I’ve tried to stay as far from him as possible, and I’m sure it’s frustrated him with how close we were growing.
It’s better this way, though. I refuse to hurt him for a few moments of comfort.
“I would like to speak with Calyr,” I say formally. “There are questions I think only he can answer.”
Azric turns away from the wall, his chair sliding against the ground with a groan. “What would you speak to him about?”
I take a deep breath. “I need to understand why he made the choices he made. From everything I’ve read and heard, he could have told your mother that he wouldn’t wake up the gods. He could have just ignored her request. She didn’t know how to wake them, and he knew what would happen if he did.”
Azric huffs. “What’s the point of asking him about it? He made the wrong decision, just like my mother did. Isn’t that good enough to know?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not. He’s a dragon, Azric. He stayed behind to protect Nyth when the rest of the dragons left. He’s not an idiot, so why did he do it?”
I pause for just a moment, and Azric’s glare burns me.
“I’m about to become the thing I swore I would kill.
After the trial, I’ll become like you. If the people of Sylvantia see me in a week, they’ll think I’ve betrayed them just as we all see Calyr as the one who betrayed Nyth.
I need to know why he did it. I need to know how he lives with that choice because I’m about to make one that’s very similar. ”
Azric is quiet for a few moments, but his gaze softens. Then he nods. “I’ll take you to the roost, and he’ll meet you there. Inni will tell him to join you. Unlike you, I don’t have any desire to speak with him, so you will need to have this conversation alone. He is not a friend.”
He doesn’t say anything else as he stands up, his riding coat swaying as he moves. The look in his eyes is just as fierce as ever, without a touch of the softness I was getting used to. When he takes my hand, there’s no warmth, as if he’s specifically trying to withhold it from me.
I don’t have time to think about it as he pulls me into the Void.
Then, we’re standing on the hard stones of the dragon roost above Castle Lachlan.
He drops my hand and walks away from me.
I turn to look at him, and I know whatever feelings he’d had for me are gone.
He’s never left me without saying a word like this. I hurt him by distancing myself.
Then I hear massive wings beating above me, and I hesitate for only a moment before turning to see a golden dragon descending slowly. Each wingbeat is a gust of wind strong enough that I have to brace myself to keep from falling over.
Calyr lands only a few feet away from me, his claws digging into the stone with a shrieking sound like a sword being sharpened. A hot breath of air washes over me, the scent of death on it. He must have been eating when Inni asked him to talk to me.
Again, I’m reminded of what Azric told me about humans being like cattle. The thought sends a shiver through me. The golden dragon swivels down to look at me with a single massive eye. “Fiona Thorne. You asked to speak with me?”
I nod to him. “Yes. I… I need to understand why you woke the gods,” I say, not knowing exactly how to phrase my question without sounding rude. He is a dragon, after all, and dragons are terrifyingly large.
“I woke the gods to save Nyth,” he says, his voice making the stones under my very feet rumble. “I did not have any other option.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“You stayed here on Nyth when the rest of the dragons fled so you could save the world. I’m not entirely sure how you did it, but that’s what I’ve heard.
Then, when Maeve came to you to wake the gods, you agreed.
You knew the gods would draw the Hunters, so why would you do it? ”
I look over the ancient dragon. His golden scales are covered in more scars than Inni.
He may be a dragon, but not all dragons are warriors like Inni and Sidon.
Some are slower and more prone to injury.
Hundreds of scratches mar his beautifully golden, glowing scales.
Some are tiny, only a few inches long, but many, many more are as long as my arm or more.
He has fought in this war even though he isn’t suited for it any more than Cedric is.
Sometimes, even the thinkers must use tooth and claw.
Calyr’s body shakes like a wet dog trying to dry itself.
He spreads his wings and stands up taller, making him seem enormous.
“I was not asked to wake the gods, Daughter of the Priest. I was forced. Maeve Arden trapped me in my cave and threatened to send me to the Void with shadow magic if I did not wake the gods.”
“You thought she’d kill you, so you doomed all of Nyth?” I ask, not quite believing that a dragon who had lived for longer than the Fae had even existed would be so afraid of death.
He exhales sharply, a tiny spout of flame escaping his mouth.
“No. I was the last guardian of the Thrones. If she had sent me to the Void, I would not have been able to protect the only things that were keeping the magic of Nyth alive from her. She could have destroyed them, and then there would not have been enough magic for the Fae to survive.”
He moves even closer. “They would have slowly faded and died. No one would have been able to save the Nyth my brethren and I dedicated ourselves to protecting had she done this. I was given the impossible choice of waking the gods and drawing the Hunters to Nyth, or allowing all the magic of Nyth to disappear completely. I chose to protect the ones I had created rather than guarantee their destruction.”
I nod to him and bow my head. Yes, just as I thought. He was trying to save people. He became a monster to protect them. “If we win against the Hunters, the world could be good again?” I ask.
He relaxes some, his neck craning to look at me.
“It could. That is what I hope. That is what I see. The gods will step aside then, as they were when we first arrived here. They will watch from afar, inserting themselves much less regularly. They will rest. The wars will end. People, humans, Fae, and Godforged alike, will live in relative peace. If I had refused Maeve Arden, the Fae and magical creatures would already be dead. Now, they may die, but it is not quite so certain.”
I nod again. “But we have all suffered so much more.”
“Suffering is better than death, is it not?” he responds.
“It is.” I look up at him. “You became a monster to save them. You’ve become something everyone fears rather than reveres, and I will soon have to make that decision as well.
How do you bear that burden? You swore to protect them all, but now you kill them.
Now they tell stories of how terrible you are. ”
He lets out another bout of hot air, but it’s not in anger this time. “Daughter of the Priest, you were not pulled through the tangle of destiny to be someone who is revered.”
His eyes turn a bright and shimmering gold as he pauses for just a few seconds.
“The Lost chose your soul to bear the weight of sorrow, for there will be much in the coming days. While the Prince may be capable of defeating his enemies, he will crack like poor steel when forced to bear the weight of his decisions. You can see it even now, before the battle has even begun. Your soul is stronger than his. Your soul can bear the weight of what must be done. You were born to understand how to hope when everyone else has forgotten that there is anything but darkness surrounding you. The Prince… he clings to hope now, but soon enough, he will forget that there is anything but sadness in this world. You will not.”
He brings his eye ever closer to me, and he says, “You were not meant to save the common people. You were created to save the Prince.”