5. Chapter 5 #2
All of these thoughts churned in my mind when I heard boots on the stone floor of the temple. I turned to find that Malik had followed me, his chest heaving with the panting of his breath.
"Allyra," he breathed, relief painting every corner of his face.
I didn't answer him, only turning back around and training my eyes on the roots as I picked them up, their bodies limp, devoid of the life and the power that sustained all of Yllsora, their damp smell filling my nostrils. How would I save them? How would I stop something so much bigger than me?
Malik kneeled next to me, his warmth radiating into my skin, yet I trembled at his nearness, my body becoming alight with the feeling of him next to me.
"How long has it been like this?" Malik asked, observing the rotted roots beside me.
"This is the first time I've seen the rot above the surface," I answered.
"But it has been beneath for a long time.
Ever since . . ." I trailed off, setting the roots back down, not wanting to speak of that night.
It was too soon to mention the Shroud to him, too soon for me to bring it up, that night holding many moments I did not wish to relive.
We sat in silence for a moment, watching as the roots found their way back into the ground as he settled next to me, shriveling as if they were never there.
"But something is wrong," I said, changing the subject. "Something has changed."
"How do you know?" he asked.
Another rumble shuddered deep underneath us then, the tremors making their way up closer to the surface before the ground across the temple split in half, opening up and swallowing anything that lay on its surface.
Malik's arms wrapped around me as we watched the floor crack, pulling me back and out of the way just moments before roots shot from the ground and reached for the sky, stretching nearly as tall as the temple, almost angry in their wild movements.
"That's how," I whispered, my eyes wide at the scene before me. Yllsora spoke to me in many ways, but never quite like this.
Another voice spoke then, this one different from the Mother's—opposite in every way. It was soothing, like icy water on a burn that sends a chill down your spine but mollifies the pain.
The universe demands a balance, whether it be fire to ice, or rot to life.
Everything must have a balance, or it'll all end in strife, the cool, hissing voice whispered in my ear.
The wind howled as this second voice spoke, so loud that I had to clutch my hands over my ears to guard them.
Yllsora is on a path of destruction, just as the Caelium was, and I tried to bring the balance here ten years ago, yet you still defied me.
My heart hammered in my chest, my mind unable to make sense of the words and where they were coming from. What they meant.
You know why the Shroud happened, why the Mother Blessed now struggle with the roots, and now you must contend with the consequences.
"What is going on!" Malik yelled from beside me, the roots still undulated above us, the Astaros now bucking in their wake.
If only I could answer, for in that moment, I did not know either.
Life cannot exist without death, that second, cool voice continued. Do not think that one can exist without the other. They can and they must.
The voice left me chilled and confused, left me feeling as if Yllsora was swaying, rocking back and forth between flounder and flourish. Teetering on confusion and chaos. As the voice continued to speak, I felt what the world could be: a perfect cycle of life, but also much death.
What you feel beneath the surface will continue to spread because of how this world has been treated, but it does not have to be this way. So, yes, do as the Mother says and go to Rida; see what lies there. The both of you. Before it is too late.
The roots above us writhed and convulsed for just a moment more before they returned to the earth, sinking into the ground, becoming one with the soil, taking all the tumultuous noise with them.
The silence of the temple rang in my ears, fear of what I had just heard worming its way into the depths of my being.
"How close is the king?" I asked, unable to take my eyes off where the roots had made their way back into the ground.
"We left only hours before they did."
"I have to leave," I said, moving to pull myself out of Malik's grasp. He gripped me harder, causing me to turn around and look at him. His eyes were frantic, looking back and forth between me and where the roots had just been in the sky.
"What do you mean, leave?" Malik asked.
"I have to go to Rida," I said, feeling the rot underneath me, even with how slow it moved, making its way towards Rida. "I have to go now."
I worked my way out of Malik's arms, standing and making my way towards the entrance of the temple.
"Lyra, you can't leave" he said from behind me. "I just got you back."
I stopped in my tracks then, my gaze hardening as I turned back towards him. "Malik, you do not have a claim to me. I am married."
I could see when the words that I had spoken cut into him, could see when my saying them made the reality of what he had seen in the council room all the more real for him.
"If I had any idea that you were already married—"
"Of course I am, Malik. All women are promised to someone. It was my duty, and it had to be fulfilled."
"But you were promised to me first," he said, his voice growing hoarse.
I closed my eyes and willed all those feelings I had worked so hard to push down over the last ten years to stay there. To not come to the surface at the first moment of vulnerability from Malik.
"We can't talk about this right now," I said, beginning to turn on my heel. "I have to go."
"I'll go with you," he said, stopping me before I could move. "We always talked about leaving Sorrel together, of running away together."
"Malik, I am not the girl I was ten years ago," I pleaded.
"And I'm not the boy who left," he said, coming closer to me.
I looked up into his eyes then and noticed the way they pierced straight through me, but now, they no longer grounded me, only making my heart beat faster.
So many unsaid words hung between us, the threat of them bubbling to the surface making me dizzy.
I attempted to turn away once more, only to be brought back by Malik's hand on my wrist.
"Allyra," he said, the formality of my full name stopping me in my tracks, causing me to turn and look at him.
"What?" I asked.
"Let me go with you and keep you safe, if nothing else. There is no reason for me to stay here if you are gone."
Looking at him, it was obvious that he had outgrown this place, the evidence of everything he had experienced since he left written all over him.
I could see it in the worn leather of his clothes, in the roughness of the calluses on the hands that had held mine back in the council room, in the lines that now graced his face that once were not there.
What would he do if he did not come with me?
The sound of metal on metal pulled both of our attentions away from each other in an instant.
Our gazes moved to look through the open arches of the temple, only to find the village alight with flame, the smoke now making its way through the arches.
I watched as the shadows from the flames cast a silhouette of men as far as the eye could see, swords raised above their heads, sparring with one another, bringing the weapons down on each other in a dance of death.
I heard the sounds of men fighting, of men dying, grasping onto their last shred of life before it was taken from them—something I had hoped to never hear again; the reminder of the sound sending an icy panic through me.
"What is happening?" I asked, my throat tight with confusion, with fear.
I moved to the temple door, only for it to burst open, a billow of smoke making its way through. All I could see was the shadow of the figure that made its way inside, its approach slow and methodical.
I backed up into Malik as the form took shape, dread coursing through my body when I found Therian approaching, his eyes like blazing fire.
"I see old flames never do indeed die," Therian said, a sickening smile overtaking his face at the sight of us.