41. BALANCE
Shadows and ash. That’s what I was capable of. Destruction. Darkness. Death.
Terrible as the darkest storm, the wraith had said.
The information Eathril divulged had been swirling in my head relentlessly. I didn’t want to believe it, even though it made perfect sense. I had mastered the shadowfire, but now, knowing where the power actually came from, and who it came from, I was starting to second guess everything.
Did I truly have control? Were there facets of this power that I had yet to discover? What else was it capable of? I still didn’t know how, exactly, the shadowfire came to be in me, and now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.
I stared up at the charred pillars of the temple ruins on the far side of Calledan.
The remains rose up from the mountain like towering, gnarled fingers, overlooking the snow-shrouded landscape in the distance where Drastia’s border sat.
Somehow, the pillars were still standing after all the years of being torched with my shadowfire.
Verdi used to bring me here to train, or rather, to expel the excess of power that would build up inside me while I was learning to master it.
He always said the pillars were enchanted to endure the test of time, so that even if the walls and roof crumbled, the foundation would remain, to be built upon time and time again.
I didn’t know what this temple had been used for, or who it was dedicated to before it became damaged.
All I knew was that it had been here since the formation of this court, and I’d all but claimed it as my own by adding layer upon layer of soot to its surface.
Perhaps it really was enchanted. My power could turn anything to ash with a simple touch. Yet, for centuries, I’d been unleashing my shadows against these stones, and they had not faltered.
Another enigma, I assumed.
Or it was Verdi. The male did anything he could to help me master my power. If he had set the enchantment on this place, I was forever grateful for it. Especially today.
The stones were mined from the coasts of Vahrenhall, where the rocky, basalt columns jutted out of the sea. They blended into Calledan’s dark mountains—a near perfect match in color.
I placed a hand against a pillar, rubbing the pad of my thumb against its rough surface, caked in hardened soot like it had been dipped in the depths of the darkness that flowed through my veins.
The Asher, they called me, though no one knew it was truly me who had laid waste to those legions at the Battle of Gabbath.
I sighed, pressing my weight into the stone.
It was only a matter of time before the truth came to light.
There would be no hiding my shadowfire this time.
No glamouring myself to keep all its crudeness hidden away.
Once I unleashed it in the coming war, there would be no turning back. But it had to be done.
That was exactly what I’d told Amarna earlier when I summoned her again to get some clarification on what I had discovered in the Seidr and Evander’s journal.
I’d expected her to gloat about having figured it out before anyone else, and then go into an entire saga of how she thought everything would unfold, but she didn’t.
She simply took my hands in hers, told me that she knew my power had a purpose, and that if the prophecy spoke of both mine and Auren’s powers together, it was probably for a reason.
When I mentioned the possibility of using my power on the battlefield again, she hesitated, but agreed that the risk would have to be considered—with great caution, of course.
And as far as Auren being able to harness my power, the Elder confirmed it was possible.
She had heard of it being successfully done once before with a mated pair from another court, in an attempt to heal their young daughter.
The mother had used her healing ability, alongside her mate’s power of fire, which he gifted to her through mind-walking, and they were able to burn out a sickness that had settled into their newborn youngling before it killed her.
Knowing that it was possible for mates to achieve something like that gave me some reassurance, but there were still so many unknowns, and I would need to bring this up with Auren sooner or later.
I closed my eyes for only a moment before someone gently cleared their throat behind me.
“It’s been a while since you’ve needed to come here,” the voice said.
“I thought I’d finally outgrown this place.” I let my hand fall away and turned around to face Aremis. “Thank you for coming.”
“Everything all right?”
I paused, sorting through all the emotions that were pulsing through me. “No.”
He folded his hands behind his back like he always did when he was about to slip into dissection mode. “Tell me.”
Gods, where to start? “I have confirmation that my power comes from Skotos. It belonged to Erebus, just as the wraith said.”
“Who confirmed this?”
“Eathril.”
Aremis’s eyes squinted with skepticism. “How does Eathril know?”
“Because he was Skadi’s general.”
That was enough to shock him. “Fucking fates, Niall. Skadi’s general has been under our noses this entire time?”
“I know. It’s hard to believe.”
“You still trust him?”
“He hasn’t given me a reason not to. And he fled here with Torin. He abandoned Skadi once he saw what she was planning to do.”
“I don’t like this, Niall—”
“He killed Erebus.”
Aremis fell silent.
“Skadi gave the order, and he killed him. And then Skadi seized the throne for herself and laid waste to their world. So Eathril led Torin’s Dionach’s to the amulet and helped them steal it, then fled with them.
Whatever he is, he’s not our enemy. Aleris saw that when he offered him a seat in this court. ”
“So, he’s not our enemy, but that still doesn’t make him worthy of our trust. He never divulged who, or what, he is.”
“We never asked.”
“Niall, he’s been hiding his past.”
“Or he’s been wrestling with it all these years, trying to atone for what he did, and making it right by how he serves this territory. Just because he’s different doesn’t make him unworthy of our trust.”
Aremis tilted his head as he surveyed me. “Are we still talking about Eathril, or are we talking about you?”
I looked away, unable to meet his eyes any longer. “I sympathize with him, Aremis. Living every moment feeling like you owe the world an explanation for who you are . . . like you have to reconcile for every breath you take . . .”
“You’re feeling the same way?”
“I am.” I had to force the words out of my mouth.
Admitting what felt like a weakness was never easy for me.
Especially when I was admitting it to another male—trusted confidant or not.
But Aremis was right. I summoned him here because he was the only other male I knew that would understand.
“When I was in that cell in Benmoor, something changed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ramil fucked with my mind. He triggered everything I’d suppressed. And now it feels like I’m on the edge of . . . something. Eathril’s confirmation only made it feel more prominent.”
Aremis flicked his eyes to my hands which were now fisted at my sides. “That’s why you’re here. To . . . take the edge off?”
I nodded. “I haven’t needed to in so long.”
“Have you ever considered that suppressing your power might be doing you more harm than good? Maybe you should continue to let it out like you used to, even if you don’t feel the need.”
“No matter what I do, it never seems to help. If it does, it’s only temporary.
The one thing I can count on is that I will eventually be back in the same predicament I was in before.
I can’t win with this fucking power.” The shadows writhed inside me, driven by my frustration, making my skin itch.
I lifted my eyes to him. “I bottle it up, and it eats away at me until I can’t stand it.
I let it out, and it threatens to tear me apart.
What am I to do when the leash that holds it back, and my will to maintain control, both grow dangerously thin? ”
Aremis’s gaze shifted to concern. “Niall, you don’t mean—”
“I’m not giving in. I’m just—” I cut my own words short, taking a breath through my nose to calm my rising irritation. “I’m just trying to get a grasp on everything again.”
We were both quiet for a long moment.
“I agree, about the suppression,” I finally said. “It’s always been best for me to let it out. It’s just that . . . when I expend it in that capacity, it’s difficult to regain control.”
“I’m not talking about doing what you did at Gabbath—”
“But I am,” I cut him off. He eyed me with concern, but I didn’t give him time to interject. “Have you ever given deeper thought to the prophecy?”
“The prophecy?” His expression twisted. “What does that have to do with it?”
“A flame of light, a flame of dark . . . stars and ash . . . two great powers? All of that speaks of two different beings, two different powers.” I saw the pieces click into place as the words turned over in his mind.
“You and Auren?” He shook his head. “How did we not see it before?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question.”
“But if it’s true, then that means . . . you’ll need to use your power, alongside hers, to get rid of Lyceius?”
“No, I’m pretty sure only her power can do that.
But mine might . . . give hers a boost? It sounds mad, but based on what I’ve read in Evander’s journal, and everything else I’ve recently learned, I’m starting to think that the reason I even have this power in the first place has something to do with helping Auren.
Like . . . I need to give her my power, somehow. ”
“Perhaps combined, your powers could create something truly catastrophic, making it impossible for Lyceius to recover from.”
“I thought so too—Amarna said it’s possible. But what bothers me is that our powers are light and dark. They couldn’t be more opposite in their nature.”
“But that does not mean they are opposite in their purpose.”
I nodded, letting his statement sink in.