PIECING THINGS TOGETHER
I slung the stray strands of wet hair back from my face as I strode across the patio of The Keep.
The rain was no longer falling. The sky, or the gods within it, had spent their tears—for now.
The hem of my cloak hung heavy, saturated with water, but I didn’t let it bother me.
I tucked myself under a glamour, and entered The Keep, heading straight for the fireplace hearth at the other end of the grand room.
A few house-fae passed by, oblivious to my presence.
My mother’s glamouring ability was something I was truly thankful for, especially in times like these. Times where I needed a break from everyone and everything around me so that I could get a grip on this new reality.
I unhooked my cloak and tossed it over the arm of a leather chair closest to the roaring fire, then sank into the chair adjacent to it, one with an unobstructed view of the flames.
As my body slouched into the leather, I scrubbed a hand through my beard, which I’d grown out and kept because Auren liked it.
I let out a sigh and forced my jaw to unclench.
Amarna, I called out in my mind.
Good morning, My Lord, the Elder’s pleasant voice responded. What is it you need?
The Seidr, I said. Could you bring it to The Keep, please? Leave it on the table in front of the main fireplace.
At once.
A few seconds later, she manifested before me and gently placed the book on the table.
Her eyes flicked up, searching the nearby space, ghosting right over where I was seated.
She did not sense me—no one would. Not even an Elder.
Not with my glamour. When she noted my cloak on the chair beside her, she grinned to herself and dipped her chin, knowing I was near and remaining unseen for my own reasons.
Without a word, she folded her hands and disappeared.
I sat for a moment, staring at the ancient, leather-bound book.
The flame’s reflection flickered across the black cover that had been worn smooth from time spent in many hands.
Inside was the realm’s history, the workings of Old Magic, the hierarchy of the gods and all their glory—things I thought I was well-versed in before.
After speaking to Sahren and Eathril, I was starting to feel like I knew nothing of what the gods were truly capable of.
Finally, I sat up, and grabbed the book, pulling it inside my glamour so that no one would see it. I dipped into my hidden pocket in space and retrieved Evander’s journal as well. Side by side, they sat in my lap, each of them silently begging for my attention.
I wasn’t sure what I would find in the Seidr that would help me understand any of this, but it was worth a try.
Not only was I seeking answers for myself, but I’d also been thinking of how to solve Aremis’s Aether dilemma.
Somehow, these two books held a missing link to what I was trying to piece together. I could feel it.
I began gently flipping through the pages, skimming over sections about the gods. Detailed sketches of the talismans were depicted, along with the deities that wielded them. I frowned when seeing the rendering of Lyceius’s likeness with the golden band adorning his forehead.
The next page told of how to imbue objects with power, and the following began a new chapter concerning a topic I was particularly interested in: the Alatyrs.
The ancient stones had originally crossed my mind when I’d considered how we were going to help Aremis rid himself of the Aether.
Particularly, the fact that they provided protection for the ones who wore them.
That was what I had been thinking about back in the wraith’s cave.
Ramil had worn Afsin’s Alatyr, and it had kept him youthful—sustaining him, just as it had for the Elder.
If Aremis were to wear an Alatyr while unbinding the Aether, perhaps it would be enough to protect his essence, and allow him to remain unharmed and unchanged in the process.
And if he released the entity in the middle of the battlefield, it could serve as an additional means to wipe out a vast majority of Lyceius’s army at the same time, alongside my shadowfire.
But something else had struck me, something the wraith had said.
The Aether had been bound to its original host with dark magic, and spells of that nature could only be undone by either a very powerful witch, or the witch goddess herself.
The Alatyr might serve as a way to protect Aremis, but he would still need a higher power to break the bond.
That conundrum would have to be tabled for later.
I thumbed through a few more chapters, then, as I went to close the book, a few lines of text on the inside of the back cover caught my eye.
A piece of soft parchment made with thicker fibers than the rest of the book had been glued to the leather.
Upon it, written in a rather elegant script, was the prophecy.
With the coming of the dawn,
the fate of all to the fate of one.
A flame of light, a flame of dark,
a golden shroud brought from a spark.
A piece is lost, and then its worn,
stars and ash bring forth the storm.
Two great powers to bring the change,
the gods will rise upon a new age.
My attention snagged on the words that had been underlined.
A flame of light, a flame of dark . . .
Two great powers . . .
Two. Great. Powers.
Two.
Had the prophecy always spoken of two powers?
We believed that a chosen one would rise to defeat Lyceius, and our assumptions were based on the second line in the prophecy: the fate of all to the fate of one. But no one had ever questioned the fact that the rest of the prophecy referred to more than one power.
If Auren’s power was the “flame of light”, what about the “flame of dark”?
I re-read the prophecy in its entirety again, snagging on a single word that made a pit open up in my stomach . . .
Ash.
Stars . . . and ash.
Auren . . . and . . .
Oh fuck.
I pushed myself up with my elbows, and hunched over the book, staring at the words like they would somehow restructure themselves to say “just kidding,” if I stared hard enough.
Stars and ash. The words glared back at me. Gods . . . had we really not seen it before?
Perhaps it was all a strange coincidence. I was just in my own head, making something out of nothing because I was searching for answers.
Auren was the “light” and the “stars,” as referred to in the prophecy.
It had been confirmed—there was no denying that.
The signs leading up to the prophecy had been ushered in by her arrival.
But why had no one taken into account the “flame of dark”?
Or the fact that the word “dark” was the opposite of “light”?
And two obviously meant more than one.
Stars and ash. Stars and ash.
I gaped at the words, and each time I read them, I couldn’t help but think of Auren and me. We were stars and ash. Our powers were the embodiment of them.
Was this why Erebus’s power mysteriously surfaced again in me? Was I meant to play a part in this prophecy?
In the empty space surrounding the text, a small note had been written, as if, at one point, whoever had been reading this was trying to work through the meaning themselves.
Opposites in power—a balance—something of fate.
The script appeared to be of a female’s hand, and the only other being I knew of that had her nose this far into this book, was Amarna. She was wise beyond her years. If she’d pieced this all together, why not just tell us what she’d suspected?
I closed the book and sat back, staring at the fire once more.
Amarna had never pressured me into reading Evander’s journal, though there were many times she had offered it to me. Each time I’d refused.
So she’d given the journal to Auren.
I’d been so stubborn, and hadn’t wanted to read it on my own, but with Auren, it was easier.
Amarna must have concluded that we were the ones the prophecy spoke of.
The Elder had pieced everything together, and she knew I would need Auren by my side to be able to face what was in the journal.
To face the truth about myself. The truth about us.
I needed Auren, and according to the prophecy, she would also need me.
But did that mean my power was necessary in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled?
What if we were to get separated in the midst of battle, or I ended up wounded and couldn’t use it to the capacity that was needed?
Sometimes I hated being the one who always had to plan each scenario in my head, but I couldn’t help it. The planning was what had saved my ass more than once in the past, and I was not about to let this be the one exception.
I could aim to help her the traditional way—my power alongside hers. But in case something went awry . . . I’d heard it was possible for a mated pair to pull from each other’s power through the mating bond. But it was so rarely done, and those who were capable of doing it were few and far between.
Every time I mind-walked with Auren, and our essences embraced, it felt like I could just transfer my power to her on a whim.
Technically, power didn’t work that way, but I couldn’t rule the option out just because I hadn’t personally known any others who had done it.
Perhaps it was possible in this specific scenario.
Shit. This was getting complicated. I needed to have a conversation with Auren about this.
I closed the Seidr and grabbed Evander’s journal.
Auren had been reading it with Aremis, and filling me in on anything she found to be of importance.
The last thing she’d read about was Evander and Verdi visiting, what we now knew, to be the wraith.
I trailed my fingers over the cover, feeling anxious yet apprehensive about what else I might find inside.
Auren had ear-marked a page toward the back, so I fanned the journal open to that spot.