Chapter 3
“What do you mean, your magic is gone?”
Trefor’s blurted question rang through the room. Mariah closed her eyes, removing her hand from Feran’s and clenching it into a fist. In the silence there was a low thud and a muffled “ow,” like someone had been elbowed sharply in the ribs.
“Stop hitting Trefor,” Mariah said wearily. Her confession had strangely lifted a weight from her shoulders. The crushing emptiness in her chest was still deceitfully dissociative, but at least now there was one fewer thing she worried about keeping from her friends.
“And I mean just that,” she continued, pinning her gaze on her blond-haired Armature. He swallowed, sea-green eyes wide as he rubbed a spot on his side. Mariah sighed, hanging her head to stare at her hands.
“After…Khento,” she said, choking on the name.
“When we fled and made it to Kreah. I shifted back, and it was like—like when the dragon retreated, so did everything else. I was so upset, so broken, I just shoved it all down so I didn’t have to see it anymore.
That whole night, I let it go quiet. And then the next day…
” She shook her head, that same empty pit yawning open within her, screaming back.
“The next day, when I tried to reach for it, to call up just a little bit, it was gone. Only emptiness.” Mariah lifted her head, sweeping her gaze over her friends.
“It’s just been that same emptiness ever since.
And—and I can’t say I don’t enjoy it. The quietness, this hollow feeling… I’ve come to crave it.”
Ciana rested her head on Mariah’s shoulder, arms again wrapping around her. “I don’t think anyone here would fault you for that,” she said, bright voice uncharacteristically muted.“Whatever this means—wherever it’s gone—we will figure it out. Together.”
The others nodded, and Mariah with them, but she didn’t feel it; not really. Ciana said the right words, and Mariah knew her best friend meant well and spoke the truth. They would try to help Mariah the best they could, would do whatever she asked if it meant their queen could be powerful again.
But Mariah knew the reality. That no matter what they did to help her, this wasn’t a problem any of them could fix.
This was something broken within her. While it was true that most wounds healed, some never did.
Only time would tell which this was. Mariah was too numb and cracked to care.
Ciana released her. Mariah felt the warmth of her amber stare on her cheek. “I know it’s hard,” she said quietly, “but have you thought about looking in the diary?”
The question clanged through Mariah.
Her mother’s diary. The small silver book with Ginnelevé embossed on its cover and magic woven through its pages.
No. She hadn’t looked. Hadn’t been able to do more than clutch it to her chest every morning before she left for her run or rest her head against it when she tried to sleep every night.
Tears again burned behind her eyes. She parted her mouth to speak, unsure of what she would even say. But her words were trapped in her throat as a roar tore through the still morning, rattling the walls of the serekah.
She knew that roar. It haunted her nightmares, lurked in the darkness of her waking dreams. She whipped her attention to the window, to the desert sunlight streaming in through the double-paned glass. Fear spiked through her, a fiery prick in the void of her emptiness.
Two large shapes slowly descended from the shimmering blue skies, membranous wings casting a pale shadow on the city below. One was the color of the brilliant day sky behind her, pale jewel-toned scales nearly blending into the heavens.
Mariah swallowed. She didn’t recognize the other. But she had to trust Rulene, even as the sight of the second dragon’s dark scales curdled bile in her stomach, a mix of fear and hate and rage bubbling just out of her reach.
Kol would not be here. Some instinct, something she tried to ignore, told her that this new arrival was not the fallen god of sun and shadows.
Mariah stood, still staring out that window. “I’m glad you’re awake, Feran. If you need anything—”
Feran chuckled. “Go,” he said. He nodded at the window. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I have an incessantly clingy nurse who refuses to even give me five minutes of peace.”
“Okay, mister ‘I can’t hold a spoon with my left hand so can you please feed me lunch?’”
The visible half of Feran’s face twisted into a scowl, but amusement danced in his eye. “That was low, even for you.”
Drystan smirked. “I can go lower, if you want—”
“Gods, please at least wait until we leave the room,” Matheo groaned, shoving Drystan’s shoulder.
Their banter almost made Mariah smile.
Almost. That hollowness ate any joy she might’ve felt, as if the numbness needed it to stay alive.
She shifted her gaze to Drystan. “Thank you for staying with him.”
The glimmer of humor in his golden eyes faded as he nodded.
“I don’t think I’d leave even if you asked me to, but you’re welcome, nevertheless.
” He glanced out the window again, the whooshes of great wings growing louder.
“Now go, seriously. Rulene wouldn’t have come here if it weren’t important; she knew you needed time. ”
“Who’s the other one?” Trefor blurted. Mariah blinked at him, and he nodded out the window at the approaching dragons. “The light-blue one is Rulene; we know that. But what about the other?”
Mariah again turned to stare out the window. The dragons were almost to Amasis’ serekah, and she could now clearly see the colors of Rulene’s companion.
Scales that were black from a distance were now a deep, rich indigo. Wings and horns shimmered like the void of a starless night. The gentle darkness that settled between the stars, empty spaces that somehow also felt so full.
Ciana appeared by her side, giving Mariah a knowing look. “Delaynie and I know.”
Mariah cut her a sharp glance. “How?”
Ciana grinned. “Time to meet another god, Mariah.”
Winds and sands buffeted their faces, stirred up by great wings. Mariah shielded her eyes against the worst of it and squinted into the bright sun.
Her court surrounded her in a ring as the two dragons—gods—landed in the open space outside the serekah. The earth shook with the thud of their clawed feet, the rustle of their wings, the brush of their long tails across the sands.
They were massive. In the week that had passed Mariah had forgotten how daunting the dragons truly were.
Easily over fifty feet long, and even with their necks and wings lowered they were at least twenty feet tall.
Just one of Rulene’s teeth, visible as she settled into the sands, was longer than Mariah’s forearm.
Mariah had taken on a form that size. She remembered it, so vividly, even when she didn’t want to. How the world had fallen away into something miniscule and inconsequential, how power and strength had coursed through her limbs, flames burning in her belly and crawling up her throat.
So much strength, and it still hadn’t been enough to save those she loved.
Rulene swung her cerulean head to Mariah, fixing her with that yellow-gold stare.
“Well met, Mariah.” The goddess spoke into her mind, the sound reverberating wildly off her skull as if seeking a magical tether that couldn’t be found. Mariah choked back her grimace and answered aloud into the warm air.
“Well met, Rulene.” She suspected the dragons would be able to hear her thoughts, if she could still hear them. But the thought of inviting them in… She shivered. Not yet. She dipped her head once before her eyes darted to the left of Rulene.
To the great indigo dragon beside her, whose depthless, star-filled eyes watched Mariah with interest.
“It is an honor to meet you, Mariah.” The dark dragon’s voice—rich and warm and undoubtedly male—rumbled into her mind. There was something soft about it, something kind, that made a part of Mariah relax.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Mariah said slowly, her words muted yet curious.
“My Consort has told me much about you,” he said with a chuff of amusement. “It was my honor to send my priestess to aid you and to carry your court here to safety.”
Realization struck Mariah like the blow of a hammer. “You’re Callamus. God of the Night Sky and Secrets.”
The dragon—Callamus—nodded his great head. “There is one other I have brought who wishes to see you.”
Callamus lowered his body to the sands. He dipped to the side, a small figure rose to her feet in the space between his wings. She slid down his indigo scales, black hair blowing slightly in the desert breeze as she landed at her god’s feet.
Signe, the cunning and mysterious priestess who had first told Mariah of the gods all those months ago in Verith’s library, met Mariah’s gaze. “It’s nice to see you again, Your Majesty.”
Mariah stilled for a breath before her feet moved, carrying her across the packed sands. Signe wore a soft grin, hesitant mischief and knowing regret etched across her face.
Mariah extended her hand, and the priestess clasped it in her own.
“Thank you,” Mariah said softly. “Thank you.” She turned her eyes up, back to Callamus’s starry gaze. “Thank you.”
Thank you for going to Verith. Thank you for saving my friends. Thank you for helping me when I don’t deserve it.
All the frayed lines in Mariah’s mind had connected, all the missing pieces she hadn’t found slipping into place.
That was where Signe had been headed after meeting them in the inn along Xara’s Road.
With whatever foresight she possessed, she’d been on her way to Verith.
To warn Mariah’s friends, to get them out of the palace, to do what she could.
She couldn’t tell Mariah that at the inn, likely for fear of too many listening ears and watchful eyes. But she’d gone anyway.
When her god had awoken with Mariah’s transformation, he’d met his priestess where she’d needed him most. When he could have gone any number of places—could have gone to Leuxrith to aid his own people—Callamus had chosen to save Mariah’s instead.