Chapter 7 Elena
ELENA
The ancient gods of Sayon oddly have more similarities than disparities. Take, for instance, the Great Serpent and the Phoenix. Both goddesses of fire, both ruthless to the core. Is it possible, then, that they stemmed from the same protomyth?
—from A Critique of the Ancient Gods (note: debunked by historians)
Elena listened to the crackle of the Eternal Fire and felt as if each pop, each spark, was a hot finger stabbing her stomach.
The inferno burned freely, flames swollen and fat.
It lazily tumbled past the pit, feeding on the ruins of the temple, but Samson had created a perimeter, and now, rather than being restrained by the altar created by her ancestors, the Eternal Fire was stayed by a god.
Samson stood beside her, slightly swaying.
His eyes were closed, his head bent, as if he was listening to a sweet song rather than a savage hiss.
Gone were the lines on his forehead, the bags beneath his eyes.
Blue flames spiraled down his arms, so close she could hear their soft murmurs, so close that if she were not of Agni herself, the skin on her elbows would peel.
Elena shifted, not because of Samson, but because of the jittery energy building within her.
Since the coronation, the Eternal Fire had regarded her differently.
It called to her. She could feel it vibrate through the stones, up her legs, to the top of her head.
She felt the vastness of its strength—deep, ancient, powerful.
In a small, secret part of herself, half-crazed, half-formed, she desired its potency.
Like a predator put before a fresh kill, she wanted to feast. To wield the flames and tear through the Jantari, eating, biting.
Come, the inferno chanted.
“Do you hear that?” he asked. His voice was buoyant. “They’re pleased with our presence.”
Elena nearly closed her eyes, overwhelmed. But then she caught sight of the ruins around them. She remembered her father’s terrible scream as he tumbled into the inferno. Once, this place had held the promise of power for her. Now it was a memorial of all that she had lost.
“I don’t,” she lied.
“The Great Serpent blesses us, Elena. She wants us to win this war, and She will help us.” He finally opened his eyes. “And She knows of you. Your Phoenix may be a lie, but the Great Serpent has not forgotten you.”
“Touching,” she replied.
Samson smiled. “You don’t believe it.”
Elena hesitated. Ash still lined her fingernails from the funeral pyres. All night, she, Kruppa, and a few soldiers had dug out the bodies, Ravani and Jantari alike. They had burned the Ravani, buried the Jantari, as according to their different customs, and sung prayers for the dead.
But those prayers were meant for the Phoenix, and the Prophet would have found them blasphemous. She studied Samson, measuring her words.
“I don’t believe the Phoenix was a lie,” she said carefully. “At least, not fully. Not yet. Gods, even fake ones, are hard to kill.”
“Did you sing songs of the Phoenix when you lit the funeral pyres, then?” He was examining her hands, and Elena tucked them behind her.
“We did,” she said. “The Phoenix is our faith, Samson. Even as Prophet, you can’t change that.
Maybe in time, people will come to understand and love your Great Serpent too.
Maybe they’ll find the Phoenix to be a lie.
But they need proof of the lie.” She paused, looking to the Eternal Fire. “I need proof too.”
“Like what?” He gestured to the mountains, the Eternal Fire, the ruins. “It’s all around you.”
“You can’t drag every faithful Ravani here and demonstrate your powers.”
“Why not?” He toyed with the fire on his wrist. “It would be convincing.”
“You need proof for the Ravani. We’re a fervent and religious lot, and simply calling our god a lie won’t be enough.
“My mother studied the Phoenix. And she was a preeminent scholar, far more than any priest. She wrote me a letter saying that Alabore created his kingdom with a different power. A darker power. But she also said the Phoenix would still rise. She believed that the Phoenix would return. Do you see, Samson?” She stepped closer.
“Even after uncovering Alabore’s truth, my mother still believed.
That’s what you’re dealing with. What we’re dealing with. An unshakable faith.”
She did not mention her hope. The hope that if her mother had still believed in the god, then maybe the Phoenix was true.
Maybe her kingdom wasn’t a lie after all.
Elena felt it flutter against her chest, small and fragile, an ember barely given the ability to breathe.
But it was there. Hope is an ember you must keep alive in the dark, her mother had said.
Behind her back, Elena fastened her hands together as if to hold on to it.
Samson sighed. Slowly, the fire around his wrist withered away. “She jumped into the fire, didn’t she?”
Elena nodded, fighting against the sudden tightness in her throat. “She did.”
“Unshakable, indeed.” He ran a hand through his hair, considering. “If you can gather proof that the Phoenix was a lie, then will you reveal what you’ve found?”
“Of course.”
“To everyone. Even your own people?”
“If my kingdom was built on a lie, I want to know why. I want to know how.” She met his eyes. “They deserve to know it too.”
He did not flinch from her gaze but held it.
She wished she could decipher his expression, the deepening of his eyes, the slight tightness in his jaw, but his face was a mask.
Samson Kytuu was a man of many masks. Suitor, soldier—savior.
She had made a mistake by disregarding that earlier, but now, as he stood before her, Elena felt the urge to peel back that mask. To find what truly lay beneath.
Finally, Samson nodded.
“Fine. Saayna is around somewhere. Why not start with her.” He began to turn to the blaze but stopped. “Did your mother mention anything else in the letter?”
“She said there are three types of fire. That I’m one of them.”
“She knew you were of Agni, then.” Samson shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Why do I get the feeling your mother must have run circles around Leo?”
Elena did not reply. Something nagged at her. The Phoenix shall awaken, and She will seek Her Prophet and other brethren, her mother had written. What had she meant by brethren?
But before Elena could speak, a flame of the Eternal Fire suddenly shot up.
It arced through the air, vivid and viciously bright, a weeping scar against the perfect blue skin of the sky, and then whipped around, barreling toward them.
Samson reached for his urumi, but Elena was already moving, curving her arms and framing her hands into lotuses.
She caught the stray flame in her arms, but the impact nearly knocked her over.
She gasped, stumbling back as the flame fought her control, its sparks spitting against her hands as if spittle from a beast. Elena felt its ferocious heat, its burning desire to kill, and for a moment, she was bewildered by the savage strength of that desire.
With a grunt, she threw the flame back. It hurtled straight through the Eternal Fire, parting the flames like a knife, and collided against a broken pillar.
The pillar snapped. A large chunk fell into the Eternal Fire, and the flames swelled forward.
“Get back!” Samson cried.
But she only widened her stance. She was not going to allow it to burn this mountain.
Not again. Elena faced the approaching flames, her heart thundering, her Agni a battle cry in her ears, when Samson whipped his urumi with a roar.
The inferno stumbled, as if hesitating. He slashed down, and with an almost imperceptible groan, the flames rolled back.
Elena stared. “How did you—”
Samson swayed. She caught him by the elbow, and he sagged against her.
“I’m fine, just fine.” This close, she could smell the sweet musk of his sweat, the ash on his skin.
For a moment, he leaned into her, his forehead pressed into her shoulder, his hand curved around the nape of her neck.
He was heavy, warm. His fingers delicate against her skin.
Her heart clattered—in bafflement, unease, and a deeper, darker feeling she could not name.
“Samson,” she said.
He straightened suddenly, pulling away. “I’m fine.”
His face had paled, and she noticed how his hand trembled around the hilt of his urumi.
“I’m fine, Elena,” he said, more forcefully this time.
She nodded, for his sake. “Shall we go find Saayna?”
“You go. I’ll make sure the Eternal Fire is…” He hesitated, as if tasting the word. “Cowed.”
She descended the stairs, and then looked back. Samson stood before the Eternal Fire, his shoulders stiff like a board. Though she could not see his face, she could feel his anger even from here.
Elena found Saayna and Kruppa together, talking quietly in the grove behind the ruins.
Most of the trees were blackened stalks, but the gulmohar tree remained upright, its bright red leaves a shock against the gutted landscape.
“Your Majesty.” Kruppa bowed quickly as she approached. Saayna turned.
They had not seen each other since Elena and the Black Scales had left for Magar.
Somehow, the high priestess seemed to have grown gaunter.
Her skin stretched tightly across her cheekbones, her lips thin and nearly colorless.
She no longer wore the orange sash of the order, which had been dissolved by the Prophet.
Nor did she wear a tilak or any marks of the Phoenix.
But Elena saw how she still grasped the same wooden prayer beads.
Almost imperceptibly, Saayna hid the beads into her sleeve, touching her crimson shawl.
“You recognize this, yes?” she said.
It was a deflection. Saayna smiled kindly, but Elena could see the quick panic in her eyes.
How long will we dance around this? she wondered.
“Is that the one you wore during my crowning ceremony?” Elena asked.