Chapter 24
EMBER
Calling the island had been a mistake. I’d known it the moment I dialed, and yet, I let the phone ring and ring. Maybe it was the homesickness that would never abate, or the feeling that I needed someone on my side, someone to tell me definitively what to do in this situation.
Myrine had not been happy to hear my voice. That much was clear with her sharp hello, and the way she’d launched into the middle of our situation, rather than asking what I was calling for. I’d curled in on myself like a small child, hiding in Amarante’s temple, rather than the grown woman I was.
“She brought the Necroline boy here,” the ancient voice on the other end of a very secure line said.
Why didn’t that surprise me? Rhiannon had always done as she pleased, consequences for me be damned. Did she even think about how I might be affected by such a choice? I let out my held breath as quietly as I could so it wouldn’t sound like petulance. “Of course she did.”
Apparently, my attempt at stifling my irritation had been useless. It slipped out in my words instead. I went ahead and sighed. Why not, at this point?
My superior took a long pause, the years and history between us spiraling out into a web of potential responses…
All of which I already resented. This was simply what was asked of those devoted to the Temple, and I had pledged my immortality to the Maere.
There was no use in saying it wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t.
Finally, Myrine spoke, her voice calm as ever. Never was she outwardly bothered or disappointed in me, and yet, I knew I worried her. “You cannot blame her, Ember. She is trying to help you. She has only ever been trying to help.”
I fiddled with the sequins on a gown I’d worn to a ball seventy years ago, resting my head against the wall of my closet. There was no use in arguing with Myrine. “I am fucking all of this up.”
“My child.” Myrine’s voice was smooth and comforting.
This was the true reason I called. I’d wanted to hear her voice.
To talk to the one person in the world who knew the whole of me, who’d known me all my lives, and who loved me still.
Myrine was more than a friend, more than a parent.
She was my lifeline and mentor. The blueprint for all I wanted to be.
So, when she spoke, I tried to let her words sink into me.
“That is part of things. Amarante gave you different gifts than she did Rhiannon. Do not fight your nature.”
I understood full well that the goddess had given us all different gifts.
It was so hard to trust myself and mine, when it felt like everything I tried backfired on me.
I closed my eyes, throwing my head a little too hard against the closet wall.
Everything felt too small, too constrained.
I knew better than to ask to come home. But I needed help.
“The swords, though…” I faltered. “How am I supposed to fix things without them?”
Myrine hummed a little, as though thinking about her next words carefully. Slow, steady Myrine. This was helpful, even if not directly so. “The swords are important, but they are not all. Balance, child. Balance.”
Her expectation was that I would figure these things out on my own. That we would figure them out as a team. The trouble was that my sistren had left me high and dry. They lied, they went behind my back, they were disloyal. And according to Myrine, I was capable of handling all that on my own.
“Stop grinding your teeth, beloved. Get to work.” The Admiral’s trust in me was comforting, and utterly unhelpful at the same time.
“How am I supposed to do that without all of them?” I growled. “Without more help?”
Myrine was silent for a long time. “Ember, we sent you to Orphium for a reason. We sent your sistren with you for a reason. Are you questioning the Temple’s vision?”
I swallowed hard. In all my long life, since I ascended and remembered the truth about where I came from and what my purpose was, I had not questioned it.
I’d believed, as all Maere did, that it was our calling to be here.
To protect the gods’ children. To find a way forward for the last splinters of magic in this dangerous world.
But more and more, it felt like a losing battle.
That humanity would never accept us. But then, that was not the mission.
The mission was to protect. To help mitigate the harm that the Consulate might do as an entity that had very little choice but to corrupt itself, to make unsavory deals to inch progress forward, little by little.
“No,” I answered. “But I am worried about the way things are coming together here. I could use some guidance.”
I’d already explained, in painful detail, about the swords, all that had happened with Lara and Rhi, the situation with Briony, Fairchild’s actions, and the Ceti.
She’d been remarkably quiet throughout the whole thing.
Her mentorship had always been based on her mentees thinking for themselves.
She’d rarely had patience for too many questions, preferring that we find things out on our own.
But I’d called for real help and I was determined to get it. “Is the one Rhiannon and Lara know as ‘Mother’ one of us?”
To my surprise, Myrine answered immediately. “No. We haven’t sent another since Calypso. She was the last of you.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, something stirring in my gut. It didn’t make sense.
It was Myrine’s turn to sigh. She was quiet, but that didn’t worry me. Myrine had seen me through eons and lifetimes. When she took the time to consider a question, it wasn’t hedging. It was because it took time to sift through thousands of years of information. I could be patient.
“There was a group who left the island before the mists drew closed. Do you remember?”
When the Temple had finally seen that humanity was unable to accept us, the island had taken in as many parapsychs as wanted to stay safe, as wanted to stay cloistered for all eternity.
Some had chosen to leave. For the most part, the Maere had stayed, though in those days we were priestesses.
Our vows to the Temple were clear. We did as the gods asked. We did as the Temple decreed.
But a handful had, and rightly so, argued that their vows had not included reincarnating into the dangerous world we left behind, risking our immortality to be human for twenty-eight years.
They saw it as a breach of contract, a violation of trust—a coercion.
I had not seen it as such at the time. I was young then, and the group that made such arguments was older.
I had not thought of them in an eternity.
“I remember the ones who left,” I answered. “How many were there?”
“But a few,” Myrine answered, vague in that way that told me this information was above my pay-grade. Not that I was being paid by the island, in any way, shape, or form. “Have you ever come in contact with them?”
“No,” I replied. “But that doesn’t mean much. As I remember it, they were not allowed to take their swords.”
Myrine laughed. “As though being swordless has slowed you down.”
She had no idea what it was like here. What it was like to be cut off from the full range of my power. From the gifts that now, only those on the island could use without a sword as a conduit to the Temple’s power. There was no use in arguing, no use in explanation.
So I stayed silent. But Myrine would have the last word. “This was not an emergency.”
I nearly sputtered with frustration. This wasn’t an emergency? Our swords were held by an unknown foe, we were being baited into getting them back, my cohort refused to fully assemble—and some unknown entity had been interfering in our mission here for years. What was an emergency then?
Bitterness seeped through me like poison. My words were petty, sharp as the sword I simply didn’t have. “Is she going to get in trouble for visiting?”
It was forbidden for us to use our doors unless severely injured. Even Sera had not used hers when she’d been burned beyond recognition. But Rhiannon waltzed through with a guest. Myrine did not respond to that, of course.
My temper boiled over. “Fucking princess gets her way every time without so much as a scolding.”
“Princess or not, you are her superior officer.” Myrine’s voice was low and deadly. If I were at home, she’d take me to the mat and work me til I regretted my insubordination. “Perhaps you should give her a scolding.”
Myrine was about to hang up. I’d let my temper get the better of me, but I still needed her help. “Wait,” I breathed. “Wait.”
Myrine did not answer, but nor did the line go dead.
“What about the spirit traps? Do you know of a good way to disable them without destroying the Maere’s souls?”
Myrine sighed. “You have use of the Necroline boy, I assume?”
“Yes,” I agreed. It was a bit funny to hear her call Ares a “boy,” but of course, we were all children to the Admiral.
“Tell him to use one of your auras as a lens to amplify his power. If he does, it should help him calibrate his natural talent to the auric energy of the unascended. It will loosen the hold the traps have enough for them to escape. He will need time, though. Time to get it right.”
Relief flooded me, making me bold. “Thank you. Just one more thing…” Myrine didn’t jump in to stop me, so I continued, “Let Sera use her door. Let Max go with her. We need them at their best.”
“Fine,” Myrine assented immediately. My head spun with the ease of the past few moments. Should I have called sooner? “Do not call again.”
The line went dead, and I had two choices.
Either let my feelings be hurt by the Admiral’s brusqueness, or laugh.
I chose laughter. The whole thing was so utterly ridiculous.
My life felt like a parody of what it was supposed to be.
Still snickering, I crawled out of my closet to find my phone.
It was on the floor next to my bedside table.
First, I sent a text to both Max and Sera, telling them I was going to call them. Telling them it was important. I dialed Sera first, but there was no answer. Then Max. The same, but this time, the phone only rang twice. They were there. They were screening me out.
“Fuck,” I swore at my phone. I so desperately wanted to tell them this in real time, to hear the gratitude in their voices when they thanked me. It was selfish, and I knew it.
I licked my lips, staring at the ceiling. I had my selfishness and pride, but I loved Sera more than just about any person on this godsforsaken planet. My phone was heavy in my hands as I sent the next text.
Sera is approved to use her door. Take her home for healing.
I waited, heart in my throat. The seconds ticked by so slowly. One hot tear fell on my cheek, then another. When my phone vibrated with an answer, it was Max, not Sera. My hand clapped over my mouth to quiet my sobs.
Took you long enough to ask them. Don’t think about using this as leverage for anything. We’re not coming back.
I shook with anger, but also sadness. I couldn’t deny that I’d made mistakes. Too many to count. I’d never wanted to be my cohort’s leader, and when the plan to send the Maere into the open world was conceived, I believed Rhiannon would be chosen.
She was a princess, after all, and I was a mere soldier. But her mother had not seen fit for her to lead. Silea had always been concerned with nepotism, forcing her children to earn their way, no matter how hard that was for them.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging them to my chest, and sobbed. Years of resentment seeped out in my tears. I had to let it go. Accept what was, not what I wished things could be. My body rocked back and forth, soothing the harsh edges of my mind.
There was no way out of destiny. Only through. I would get our swords back, and then, when Sera was well, I would get her and Max back, too. Amarante had deemed me the leader of my cohort, and I could no longer choose against the goddess herself.
Relief flooded my body as I accepted my place in this. My eyelids drooped and my limbs were heavy as I pulled myself off the floor and into bed. My phone buzzed with some alarm, but all I wanted to do was close my eyes, just for a few moments.