Chapter 7
seven
It’s been eight moon cycles since I first brought Thesix to my bed. Each moment since has been spent with him has become a light against the shadows Atlas casts, but now the flicker of that flame feels perilous.
With every passing day, whispers of rebellion spread like wildfire, fueled by Atlas’ fury and ambition.
He’s gathered followers of both Midaeliea and Antalis who believe in his cause.
Convinced that he should be the only ruler of Antalis because a woman is too fickle with their emotions.
The more he rants about me–and Thesix–the more his anger festers.
I never imagined a twin drop could incite such turmoil within my kingdom, yet here I stand at the heart of a conflict I never wanted.
I stand on my balcony, where it all began, looking up at the rainbow circle that surrounds the sun here, contemplating what I could have done differently. What I might have done to prevent my own children from hating me, as some of them do.
“Hēn?” Thesix says from behind me, his voice husky with sleep. The silken sheets rustle as he shifts to sit up more, the fabric falling around his waist.
“I’m here, my love.” I step back inside the bedchamber, trying to hide the fear behind a fabricated smile.
“That’s very fake … but thank you for trying.” Thesix says towards me, opening his arms. “Come here.”
I cross the room, the marble floor cool beneath my bare feet, and sink into his embrace, allowing myself this moment. His heartbeat steady beneath my palm. I breathe in his scent and for a heartbeat; the fear recedes.
“Tell me,” he murmurs against my hair, his fingers tracing circles on my back.
“It’s Atlas,” I whisper, the name itself causing my throat to tighten. “The reports grow worse, and his followers increase with each passing day.”
Thesix’s arms tighten around me. “We knew this might happen.”
A sharp knock at the door cuts through his words. We both stiffen, the brief sanctuary of our moment shattered.
“My Telae.” The voice belongs to Winlow, captain of the new organization called the Ke Neye. “Forgive the intrusion, but I bring a report you must hear.”
I pull away from Thesix, reaching for my robe. “Enter,” I command, my voice shifting from lover to queen in the space of a breath.
Winlow steps inside, his face ashen beneath his helm. He bows stiffly. “Traveallis village, the one that sits between Midaeliea and Antalis, was attacked and burned to the ground.”
My blood turns cold, “Atlas?”
“Yes, but …” Winlow hesitates, “They say he commands the flames with his hands now, my Telae. Fire that burned and consumed everything in its path.”
The words hang in the air between us. No one here has been crafted to hold the power of the flames such as Khaysus did. I have seen the destruction that it could create. The one story I was stupid enough to tell him about.
Before I can respond, a sensation like hooks beneath my skin, pulling, hits me. Souls.
“Hēn?!” Thesix is beside me in an instant, his arms supporting me as my knees buckle.
“The villagers,” I gasp, clutching at my chest where an unfamiliar sensation spreads like an acid beneath my ribs.
One by one, I feel them—pinpricks of light extinguishing inside me. My children. My creations. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever known, each death a small tear in the fabric of my being. I’ve crafted countless souls, breathed life into so many forms, but never have I felt them leave.
“Hēn?, talk to me, baby … what is going on?” Thesix’s voice seems distant through the haze of agony.
My fingers dig into his arm as another soul passes through me. I can feel its trajectory–not a dissolution, not nothingness … but a path. A journey back to Mohasha, my home. The place I fled to create this world.
“They’re dying,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I can feel each one. Their souls … they’re returning to Mohasha.”
Another wave hits me, stronger this time.
Dozens more, their terror still clinging to them.
I see flashes: orange flames licking at thatched roofs, children screaming, Atlas standing amid the chaos with fire dancing from his fingertips.
Creatures I’ve made … wolves that are wicked, mutated by his own power.
“This was never supposed to happen,” I say, trembling. “Death wasn’t a part of this world.” I break off as another soul tears through me.
Winlow shifts uncomfortably. “My Talea …. What does this mean?”
I look up to meet his eyes. The memory surfaces. Khaysus’s face, beautiful and terrible, his last words to me before I fled.
“You will either be with me or I will do everything until I find you again. I will make sure this world is nothing but ash, and any world that you go to.”
My breath catches. “It means Atlas has found a way to reach someone I thought was a distant dream …” I struggle to stand, leaning heavily against Thesix. “And it means Khaysus will come for me.”
The pain subsides momentarily, but I know it’s merely a lull. I can feel souls hovering at the edge of my awareness.
“If the souls are returning to Mohasha …” Thesix begins, his voice low with dread.
“Death will now take our world.” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue. “They are creating a path. A trail of breadcrumbs straight back to me — to Ashonera.” I press my palm flat against my stomach, feeling the echo of each passage.
Another soul tears through me, and I gasp, clutching at Thesix’s arm again. This one carries images: a child with dark brown eyes standing before him as they consume his home. A tear falls down my cheek.
“He’s made a bargain,” I say, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “Atlas has somehow contacted Khaysus.”
“That’s impossible,” Thesix says, but his voice lacks conviction. It wasn’t long ago in this same room I told him the story of Mohasha and how I ended up here.
I straighten, forcing steel into my spine despite the pain. “Winlow.”
The captain steps forward, his face grim, “Yes, Telae?”
“Send a message to Atlas.” The words taste like ash in my mouth. “Tell him I wish to meet.”
“Meet?” Winlow’s eyes widen. “With respect, after what’s done –”
“I need to look into his eyes,” I say, cutting him off. “I need to know how far this goes, what promises have been made.” Another soul passes through me, and I flinch. “And I need to stop this slaughter.”
Winlow hesitates only a moment before bowing. “As you command. Where shall I say you wish to meet?”
“Doorway of Aka. Three moons' time.”
Winlow nods, his armor clinking softly as he bows again. "It will be done." He turns and leaves, the door closing heavily behind him.
As soon as he's gone, I sag against Thesix, the facade of strength crumbling.
"You can't meet him," Thesix says, his voice tight with fear. "Not after this."
"I have to." I look up at him, tracing the worry lines etched around his eyes. "Don't you see? If Khaysus has reached through to Atlas, to give him the power of flame ..."
"Then nowhere is safe," Thesix finishes, his arms tightening around me.
Another wave of souls washes through me, and I bite back a cry. These are different—terrified, confused, their passage violent and unexpected. More villagers falling to Atlas's newfound power.
"I created this world to escape him," I whisper. "I crafted each soul with such care, such love. And now ..." I trail off, the weight of my failure crushing me.
Thesix cups my face in his hands. "This isn't your fault."
But it is. Atlas is my creation. And somewhere in his making, I must have left a door open—a vulnerability Khaysus could exploit.
"If I meet with Atlas, perhaps I can reason with him," I say, though even to my own ears, the words sound hollow. "Find out what Khaysus has promised him."
"And if you can't?"
I meet his gaze, the answer burning in my throat. "Then I'll have to unmake what I've created."