Chapter 21 Ordained Fate #2
Zephyr’s mouth twitched into a grimace. Their attitudes surpass mere conceit.
Most gods in Sacra are incomprehensibly and irrefutably arrogant.
When crossed, they unleash tempests more furious than any storms you’ve weathered.
Their tantrums are an eradication-level event.
Be warned: immortal vanity is a force of nature.
You do not combat it. You endure it, and if the fates are kind, you outwit it. ’
Idan arched a brow, his focus narrowing. ‘Then help us craft a snare. Do you possess any intel that gives us leverage over him?’
Zephyr tipped his head back against the divan, his golden eyes fixed on the ceiling as he delved into the archives of his memory.
All of a sudden, he lurched forward, wagging a weathered finger in the air.
‘An old lore exists, buried under the dust of time. If I remember it clearly, it states that the only method to neutralize a God Emperor like Sulfiqar is to bind him with the Obsidian Ligatures of the Cursed Realm, also known as the Chains of the Old Sacran King Saitoni.’
‘The rightful ruler, the one Sulfiqar deposed eons ago?’ Issa asked her father.
‘The same. Legend states these shackles hold Saitoni in an eternal, agonizing stasis.’
The General explained that only the Draquis Order, a clandestine society of Paladian dragon-shifter guardians and shadow kings, retained the coordinates to the Old King’s hidden sepulcher.
‘The universe believes the secretive Dragon Order extinct, but they endure as master jewelers and weapon-smiths, concealing their immortality in plain sight, appearing in humaniform. They are the only artisans capable of forging the diamond masks required to shield your signatures from Sulfiqar’s all-seeing gaze should you decide to fetch those chains whereverthefokk they are. ’
‘Where do we locate the Draquis?’ Molan rasped.
‘In Rhesia. The capital city of Enia.’
Idan leaned forward, his brow furrowed. ‘If they are as reclusive as you suggest, how do we initiate contact?’
Silence settled over the room as the group hit a wall of logistical impossibility.
Then, the air shimmered. Mirage cleared her throat, her translucent form vibrating with a sudden influx of data.
‘If I may intervene,’ she intoned. ‘The Riders have always maintained discrete dealings with the Draquis. Their Synth Assistant, Miko, is a node of mine, meaning she is like a sister to me. I can establish a link and request an urgent audience.’
‘Mirage, you are a dream come true,’ Ki’Remi growled, a grin finally touching his face.
‘I’m well aware you can’t live without me,’ she replied, her eyes dancing. ‘I’ll initiate the entreaty and report as soon as I have a response.’
With a glimmer of light, she vanished into the aether, leaving the group to socialize for a while longer.
Later, as the others chatted, Idan stepped out onto the wraparound veranda.
He moved to the railing and inhaled, his lungs expanding with the mountain’s pure air.
Before him, Dunia unfolded in a magnificence of emerald and sapphire.
Massive, sawtooth peaks carved the horizon, their granite faces softened by thick blankets of lichen and ancient pines.
Between these giants, deep fjords cut into the land.
Cascades of spring water tumbled down the mountain slopes, surging into fathomless stone basins and natural waterholes with a rhythmic, percussive roar.
The landscape hummed with life; the distant, resonant lowing of cattle drifted on the breeze, punctuated by the melodic chime of copper cowbells and the frantic bleating of sheep from the high pastures.
It was a verdant paradise, a stark contrast to the scorched, unforgiving expanses of the Tansinian frontier.
The whisper of a step announced Sheba’s arrival, as she slipped behind him, her arms snaking around his waist.
She pressed her cheek against his shoulder blades.
‘I find myself drawn to this place,’ Idan rasped, his hands covering hers. ‘It evokes the same peace as Tansinia, yet it seems to have a living soul of its own.’
‘Dunia is sentient, and has its own guardian spirit, you know,’ Sheba murmured into his back. ‘I can’t wait to take you to New Malindi, where I was raised by the coast, another magnificent experience. We can even visit a grotto where the presence of the planet is most palpable.’
Idan turned his gaze back to the sprawling orchards and the sturdy farmhouse.
‘Perhaps, when the dust of this conflict settles, we can purchase a spread of our own. A place where the sky is the only thing above us.’
Sheba pulled back, a flicker of pragmatic doubt crossing her features.
‘How? My income and the modest inheritance from my parents would not even afford a lease on a small holding out here, let alone buying a farm.’
Idan spun in her arms, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he faced her.
‘As a warrior-divine of Sacra, I possess a hoard of valuables, some payment, others pillaged, hidden at a secure hold at a secret celestial fold. It contains more than enough to purchase a dozen such farms, and the valleys between them.’
Sheba stared at him, her jaw tightening in disbelief. ‘So you pulled off a poor alpine shepherd vibe when, in reality, you are some kind of arkhein khan?’
At his silent raised brow in question, she clarified, ‘It’s a term from the Kwavi tongue. It signifies a wealthy master, a man of limitless resources.’
Idan’s lips twitched, his eyes ignited with sudden inner luminescence.
‘I am a Sacran immortal, and by our standards of time, we have only just been introduced. There are vast chapters of my history you have yet to navigate. Once this shitshow is over, I intend to reveal every facet of my former existence to you, including my hoard.’
Sheba’s expression shifted into a sober musing.
He caught the swift change in mood and leaned in to her, using a calloused finger to raise her chin. ‘Talk to me, beautiful.’
Sheba took a deep breath. ‘I’m just reminded of how naive I am when it comes to your immortality and past. You’ve alluded to centuries of scorched-earth warfare, the dismantling of empires, and secret treasures that I may never quite get my head around.
She sliced her eyes away to the panorama.
‘Why would a warrior-god of your stature tether himself to a human like me? I’m but a blink of an eye in your timeline.’
Idan reached out, using a single, sinewed finger to hook beneath her chin and tilt her face toward his, gazing down at the shadows of insecurity clouding her eyes.
He forced her to meet his gaze, which burned with a terrifying, absolute conviction.
‘It is fate that ordained us as salkia,’ he declared, his timbre a resonant anchor.
‘Every day assigned to us was long etched into the constellations, before our first breaths ever stirred the air. This connection defies explanation, and you should not exhaust yourself trying to seek one. All that remains for you, and for me, is to surrender to it and find our rest therein.’