Chapter 35 Aura
AURA
Forest of Fear, Skalor
Asolitary standing stone, weathered over the eras, greets Aura and Calder as they pass through the gate formed by towering evergreens. The wrought-iron fencing seamlessly connects the trees from the ground to the treetops, creating a vast circle around the stone.
Edmund and Argnier are nowhere to be seen.
“What do you think?” She defers to his judgment, still trusting in this man more than anyone else.
He takes her hand, stroking her skin in a focused way as he studies the stone. “My nerves seek to break me.”
His honesty is refreshing and surprising, considering whatever trauma the Norn forced him to relive.
She squeezes his hand. “I am with you, no matter what.”
Calder ducks, even though his head has enough clearance beneath the stone for him to grow another and still walk under it.
She rolls her shoulders back, recalling her mother’s words of wisdom: to appear strong in the face of the unknown.
“Always know your worth, Aurie. No matter what happens, keep your chin up and trust in yourself.” Avina’s words resonate in her mind as she squeezes Calder’s hand and steps through the standing stone with him.
The forest shimmers until the scene shifts to a hamlet encircling a vast clearing.
Dwellings crafted from brick and earth with sloping roofs surround the lushest grass she has ever seen, despite the snowy pines around them.
Vibrant patches of flowers energize the space, sending a tingling sensation along her skin.
Straight ahead, she can see a lake shimmering in the sunlight.
“Where are Argnier and Edmund?” Calder asks.
Before she can consider where their friends have ended up, a man and a woman in flowing robes, the color of the forest, approach them, armed with crossbows.
“CALDER AVARDSSON!” A booming voice shakes the ground beneath their feet, forcing them to brace against one another for support. “YOU TRESPASS UPON MY DOMAIN?”
The ground trembles as a larger-than-life creature, straight from the pages of the myths her mother read to her as a child, stomps into view over the ridge leading to a lake beyond.
The Wicked Wyvern of Skalor! Makt’s ex-wife.
She is more beautiful and terrifying than any depiction of a wyvern Aura has ever seen, featuring ivory scales that glisten like snowflakes in the sunlight and wings that could span the entire expanse of Blackwood.
“I completed my trial through the Forest of Fear and was granted permission to enter.” He stands firm.
The Wyvern’s massive head shakes side to side. “I have eradicated your kind by the hundreds, halvgud. What makes you believe I would spare your life?”
Calder is seized by the two warriors and dragged toward her, where Argnier and Edmund kneel, bound.
“Let them go!” Aura rushes forward, realizing that no one is stopping her progress. “All of them passed their trials!”
Suddenly, Fitz’s words return to her: “You must know that passing the test in the forest gives safe passage to the Inner Sanctum. But she can deny entry if you understand my meaning, halvgud.”
“I will not permit a Gothi, Lavinia’s discarded bedfellow, and a demon to seek solace in my sanctum.” Blue flames threateningly mist around her nostrils.
Aura’s heart races as she glances at the robed warriors, who bind Calder’s wrists behind his back and thrust him to his knees beside Argnier.
A dreadful realization grips her spine.
Their lives now depend on her ability to persuade the Wicked Wyvern to spare them.
“We are on a mission to destroy Lavinia and Makt. Please, great one, we traveled all this way to appeal to you! To join our cause!”
The Wyvern’s feet shudder the ground as her head lowers to Aura’s level.
“You want me to release your cousin? The boy who would enrage you until you turned him into a toad? What about the man who kidnapped you as a child at the behest of his deranged lover, ruining all chances of friendships outside your father’s designs? ”
Aura’s gaze shifts to Argnier and Edmund, who avert their gazes in shame.
Her jaw drops, unable to imagine in a thousand winters that Argnier–the man who embraced her despite the issues with her grandfather–was the one who kidnapped her as a child.
The man who encouraged her to refine her skills as an artist is the same one who nearly delivered her to Lavinia.
Her heart sinks to her boots with a heaviness nearly dragging her to the ground along with them.
“Or what about the man who should never have taken you to his bed?” The Wyvern’s thunderous voice continues. “The one who should have stopped your affections when you naively sought him out back in Salt. The man who carries the darkest secret. For he is not who he appears.”
Aura clutches her chest as the truth wavers before her eyes–the truth she knows deep in her heart. Anguish fills Calder’s features, and her heart shatters in her hands.
“He hides behind ‘Avardsson,’ but I can read the runes surrounding your party. Your bedfellow is the first son of Makt in a millennium.”
The words strike her harder than she expected. Her father’s strength and her mother’s wisdom cannot fill the cold emptiness in her broken heart.
He lied to me.
Worse, neither Argnier nor Edmund react to the Wyvern’s revelation, leaving Aura as the last to know Calder is a halvgud.
Not just a halvgud, but that of Makt.
The earth seems to crumble beneath Aura’s feet.
What if I’m wrong about these men?
“Our mission is greater than their sins.” Aura lifts her chin.
Her mother’s words of support encourage her to straighten her back and lift her chin, even as her heart shatters into pieces within her chest.
The Wyvern considers Aura in unnerving silence. Finally, she shimmies around, inclining a pearly white wing toward her. “Come, little witch. Let us see if you can convince me to spare your companions.”
Little witch?
Carefully, she climbs atop the Wyvern’s scaly back.
As she takes flight, Aura grasps at anything she can, her stomach somersaulting as they ascend above the treetops and soar through the sky. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to stop her belly from fluttering this high above the ground.
At last, the Wicked Wyvern lands, and she can sway onto her feet.
“Your trial was the fastest I have beheld, little witch. It takes much to impress me.”
Aura blinks out at the expansive lake, so clear she can see straight through to the rocks below.
Completing the Trial is impressive enough.
“It's just us, darling.” The Wyvern’s voice is smooth and feminine, rather than a roar. “You don't need to belittle yourself on my account.”
Aura spins on her heel. The Wyvern is gone.
Instead, a tall, curvy woman with soft features stands in her stead. Her thick, red hair tumbles like gentle waves down her back. Her intense, bright green gaze observes Aura as she cinches a robe around her figure.
Wyverns are known to exist, but she does not understand how or why. Legends state that the people of Treland pushed out the last wyvern of her home country centuries ago.
“What do you know about me, little witch?” she asks, as if reading Aura’s thoughts.
“You were Makt’s wife and overseer of the pilgrims venturing to the Forest of Fear.”
She nods. “Did you ever wonder how a god came to love a mortal woman?”
“I fear that simply knowing you exist has left me stunned,” Aura admits.
“Long before Makt found himself sharing living space in the Abyss, he was far more considerate of his country and its people. I was merely a pilgrim in the Forest of Fear, assisting others through their Trials. My abilities are rare, much like yours. Like yourself, I can channel all the powers of the Endless Shore. Except a nautilus shell does not bind me.” She leans against a tree, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
How does she know anything of my powers?
“All until Makt,” she continues. “He guided my powers and encouraged them to flourish. We fell in love…Well, I fell in love. Perhaps he loved the concept of me more than the reality. Regardless, the God of Power elevated me to a lesser goddess. Like any being of my station, I learned to take the form of a wyvern.” Her lips thin as she recalls an unsavory memory from centuries ago. “And then he made me his wife.”
Fury should blind her senses, knowing her friends are bound back in the hamlet of the Sanctum. Yet, her thirst for knowledge overtakes any sense of rage, along with a churning compassion for this mighty woman.
“What happened?” Aura cannot suppress the questions surging in her mind. “Did he fear you becoming too powerful?”
The Wyvern chuckles darkly. “He knew I was too powerful, and I had known of his infidelities for decades. When you stepped foot in my realm, I read the runes on all of you. The perception of me is that of a jaded ex-lover. How sad.” She scoffs.
I have so many questions…
Aura poses a question at the forefront of her thoughts: “Is that why you killed Makt’s children?”
The Wyvern’s laugh resembles a trickling stream flowing over smooth stones. “Oh, gracious, the tales have spun awry, have they not? You and your band of melancholic men believe you know the God of Power.” She tosses her thick red locks.
How could the tales of Makt worsen?
“I hope you are not squeamish, little witch.”
Aura cautiously approaches the Wyvern, acknowledging her desire to learn more about her abilities and the god they hunt–Calder’s sire.
“I will not pretend that my interest in Makt was innocent. His abilities in his bed were life-changing.” The Wyvern’s voice trails off to another era.
“As a younger woman, I was inexplicably drawn to his power. Perhaps my hope for a better life caused me to turn a blind eye to his experiments at first.”
“Experiments?”
The Wyvern exhales loudly, focusing on the lake.
Aura worries she won’t respond.