Chapter 52
I created the Order of the Priests to save humanity.
I was arrogant, yes. I was a little power hungry as well.
But I sought to save my people, and I did.
Now… now, I wonder if I would give it up if I could just save her.
Once, I crushed her hands, and her pain almost swayed me.
Would it be different now that I love her as a daughter rather than a tool?
~Rhaskar Thorne, personal journals
Fiona
Fear is a terrible thing, and as I wrap myself in my Priest’s cloak, I can feel it coiling in my belly.
Tonight, as I stare at the moon rising above the horizon, I recognize that I’m supposed to die.
My hand goes to the ermine pouch with three glass beads in it.
These are the only things that can save me, but when do I use them?
How do I use them? Caeldra’s power to change destiny hides within them, but what does that even mean?
No sound comes from my lips as I lean over the battlement on the wall that rings Castle Lachlan. No one would know the terror that reigns inside me. Every soldier knows they could die any day. They may even expect to die in battle, but no one wants to know the exact time that will happen.
A slightly damp breeze springs up, and it’s as though the air itself is trying to soothe me.
It’s so reminiscent of the way Azric had used shadows to tease my body, slipping beneath my cloak, armor, and wrap to touch my bare skin.
I’d swear there are crimson nails brushing my cheek as the breeze sweeps past me.
I’d give anything to sink into his arms, to let him remind me I’m strong enough.
There’s no one else in the world I’d let myself cling to.
I will most likely die tonight. I’ll save the people of Dunloch.
I’ll save the Mages. I’ll save the duskthorn trees and the skryths and veilrunners, however terrible they seem.
They’re animals, no different from wolves and bears, and they should be given their place to hunt, to be free to survive.
Not destroyed. Not snuffed out like a candle in a storm.
The living should be allowed to live. They should be given the chance to fight for their survival.
The Godforged and the Fae. The humans. Everyone in this twilight landscape should be allowed to fight for the right to continue to breathe, and if I walk away from Castle Lachlan, they won’t be given the chance.
So, I let the fear coil in my belly. I stare at the moon with terror inside me, and I don’t run. I am a Priest. I am human. I am the daughter of Rhaskar Thorne, and I will not allow fear to win any more than he let the fear of Lysara’s fury sway his decisions.
I smile at the thought, and some of the fear fades. Rhaskar would be proud of me. I may still hold an incredible amount of anger toward the man I once called Father for what he did, but he prepared me for this moment in my life in a way no one else could.
Tonight, I am going to defy not only the strongest of the Godforged and become the Champion of Nyxthos, but I’m also going to defy destiny itself. Tonight, I am a brick in the wall against the storm, and if I crumble, I still will have pushed the storm away at least a little longer.
The wind whispers through my hair, and it’s like I can hear Darian laughing.
He should be here with me. We should be facing the last trial together.
We should be playing Khorra by candlelight while we wait for it to start.
He should be making jokes to take our minds off what will happen in the coming hours.
I think I’d have trusted him with Saelira’s words to me. I’d have let him try to puzzle out how and when to use the glass beads because he would never have been more than a friend.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the terror in my belly go back to sleep.
“You are a hard woman to find,” a deep, masculine voice says from behind me.
I turn to see Rhion standing with Ainslee at his side.
She’s glowing ever so slightly in the darkness, and both of them have smiles on their faces.
Unlike me, when the moon reaches its crest, their jobs will be done.
My last task as a human will only be the beginning.
Either I’ll win and become one of the Godforged, or I’ll most likely die.
“That was the point. How have you been?” I ask. I haven’t seen either of them in a week, not since I talked to them about Darian.
Ainslee shrugs, and the smile cracks some. Rhion, though, walks toward me and wraps his massive arms around me. “Don’t worry about us,” he whispers. “How are you doing?”
Rhion is warmth turned into flesh and blood. He is kindness and hope and light tonight, and I need that reassurance. I need to be reminded that the world is not just darkness. It’s something worth saving, something worth dying for.
“Oh, you know. Just considering the fact that by the end of the night, I’ll either be dead or the Champion of Nyxthos, the thing I wanted to murder not all that long ago. Despite that, I think I’m doing okay.”
He chuckles and pulls back. Ainslee moves to his side and says, “Well, you’ve done far better than we ever really hoped. Who would have thought a human, even one like you, would be able to get this far. Your father would be proud.”
I don’t comment on her reference to Rhaskar. “Well, that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. It was just… It was always a hope rather than an expectation, if that makes any sense. Your competition was fierce. Now, you’re down to two competitors.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t have done it alone. Without Darian and Azric… Wait. Two competitors? Elara, Jorren, and Isola all survived along with me.”
“Isola killed Elara,” Ainslee says without an ounce of empathy.
“She killed her? How?”
Rhion says, “No one’s totally sure what happened, but her body was found in a hallway, and it was as gray as the walls. There’s only one type of Godforged who could do that. I guess it could have been a different Undying, but that’s doubtful.”
Ainslee turns the conversation away from Elara. “Other people had help, too, Fiona. You should know that. They also had more than eighty years of experience. You’ve had what? Twenty something? You’re a baby compared to them.”
“Azric isn’t much older than me,” I counter, still reeling from the fact that Elara is dead. At least she’ll return. In a month, I’ll be able to see her again. If I’m still alive, we can be friends without the whole trying to murder each other part.
Rhion chuckles. “Well, Azric is different, and he had much longer if you consider how long he spent in the Realm of the Dead. Enough of that. We just wanted to come and wish you the best of luck in tonight’s trial. I don’t know if we have any words of wisdom, though.”
He glances at his wife and smiles. “That wasn’t ever our strong point. Darian was the motivator of the three of us.”
Ainslee says, “He’d probably tell you something deep about Khorra. Then, he’d probably follow it with a joke about Isola and Jorren. They’re easy to pick on.”
I grin at the thought of Darian’s past jokes. “Then he’d probably flirt with me and suggest that he knew a good way to spend our last few hours on Nyth on the offhand chance we didn’t survive it.”
Rhion’s laughter is deep and heartfelt. “No doubt about that. He was an incorrigible flirt.”
“But how would you have spent the evening if he were here?” Ainslee asks.
I slowly shake my head and turn back to watch the moon rise. “Probably right here with him next to me. We’d talk about the past couple of months. The stupid things. The hilarious things. The things that hurt us both.”
Rhion moves to stand on my right side, and his hand goes to my shoulder. “Then we’ll do our best to stand in his place.” Ainslee moves to my left, and she puts her hand on mine.
I smile. Rhion and Ainslee aren’t Darian, and they certainly aren’t Azric, but they are friends. They, too, share the pain of losing Darian.
I’m not alone, and the last bit of fear that was awake inside me goes back to sleep. Tonight, I’m not alone, and that matters more than I ever thought it would.