Chapter 7
Iwasn’t breathing. Or blinking. Or functioning in any useful human way.
How was one supposed to greet a god? Was there protocol?
A divine handshake? A respectful bow? I desperately glanced over at Caelan, hoping for guidance, but he merely stood there like this was normal.
Like I wasn’t standing in front of an ancient being who looked as if he could dissect me with a blink.
Auretheos didn’t move. Didn’t breathe, as far as I could tell. He stared at me with a gaze so sharp it felt like it was peeling back layers I didn’t know I had. It went on long enough that I started to squirm. I considered curtsying. I nearly waved.
And just as I was about to explode from the pressure of the silence, he spoke.
“You are female.”
That was it.
No greeting. No divine wisdom. Just a biological observation delivered in a voice so rich and smooth it didn’t even sound weird until three seconds later.
I blinked. “Uh… Yes. That’s… correct, my Lord. God. Aure-Audrius. Sir.”
His expression didn’t shift. He hummed, like that fact was both mildly interesting and immediately irrelevant, then turned and walked straight back into the temple without another word.
I exhaled. Loudly.
Caelan was already grinning when I turned to him. A smug, ‘I knew this would break your brain’ kind of grin.
“I warned you. He’s… unusual.”
“That was, without a doubt, the strangest and most surreal interaction I’ve ever had,” I said, half-laughing as I tried to gather my scrambled dignity.
Caelan chuckled. “With Auretheos, it’s hard to say what’s random and what’s calculated.
Sometimes both. There’s… a lot I haven’t told you about him.
But that can wait. Now that introductions are over, we’ll head inside, finish the formalities, and then I’ll take you up to the Lodge.
I imagine you’re ready for a proper meal and a long bath. ”
“Desperately,” I muttered, shooting one last glance at the temple door.
I started following Caelan through the big double doors.
As they closed behind us, all natural light was cast out at once.
Before me lay the largest hallway I had ever seen, with endless shelves stacked alongside the walls all the way up to the high stone ceiling.
The shelves were filled with paper scrolls and thick stacks of parchment, their edges yellowed with age.
“Wow, this is breathtaking,” I whispered, not daring to speak any louder.
Caelan looked around, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“It truly is. I have lived here nearly all my life, but I still get excited every time I enter the library. The candles illuminating the place are lit by magic—they burn without heat or smoke, so they can’t harm the paper.
The temple was built into the mountain to protect the ancient scrolls and books kept here from outside influence. ”
My gaze climbed toward the highest shelves, dizzyingly far above us. “How do you even reach the scrolls up there?”
Caelan chuckled softly. “We don’t. The sentinels who serve here simply request the title they need, and the library provides it. The magic isn’t ours, it’s woven into the stone itself. The shelves listen. The books remember. When called, they come.”
As if to prove his point, he spoke a word I didn’t recognize. A moment later, a single scroll slid free from a high shelf, floating gracefully through the air before settling into his open hand. I stared, wide-eyed, as the air shimmered faintly where it had passed.
Priests rushed past us, wearing the same robes as Caelan. While most of them seemed to intentionally stare at the floor while walking past, I couldn’t help but notice that one particularly good-looking chap was openly grinning at Caelan, who cheekily winked at him.
Caelan stopped in front of some double doors leading into a room to the left of the hallway. He knocked, and Auretheos’ deep voice boomed from within: “You may enter.”
We stepped inside and my breath faltered, because before me lay the grandest library I had ever seen.
On my travels around the continent, I had visited my fair share of museums and libraries, but this archive surely held more books and artifacts than all the cultural sights on the mortal continent combined.
While the library in Rivermond had been stuffy and had smelled of old feet, this place was astonishing.
In the heart of this vast library was a grand, circular room. The ceiling arching high above was adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures, celestial bodies, and ancient runes that seem to shimmer faintly with their own internal light.
The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, packed with books of every size, color, and age imaginable.
Ladders on rails provided access to the higher shelves, each one crafted from polished wood with ornate, gold-leaf detailing.
In place of windows, the room was illuminated by large, floating orbs of light suspended in midair at various points throughout the room.
The orbs emitted a warm, soft glow that perfectly mimicked the golden light of a late afternoon.
The floor was made of dark, richly stained wood, polished to a mirror-like sheen but covered in plush, jewel-toned rugs that added warmth and color.
Scattered around the room were several large, overstuffed armchairs and couches, upholstered in deep burgundy and emerald velvet, inviting visitors to sink in and lose themselves in a good book.
Small, elegant side tables stood beside each seating area, some of them with stacks of books atop of them.
The centerpiece of the room was a massive, circular desk made from a single piece of ancient, dark oak, its surface covered in a rich tapestry of maps, manuscripts, and inkwells.
The desk was large enough to accommodate several scholars working together, with plenty of space for books, scrolls, and other materials.
It was surrounded by high-backed chairs, each one carved with intricate designs and upholstered in the same deep velvet as the armchairs.
The scent of aged paper, leather, and a hint of incense lingered in the air. Despite the grandeur of the space, it felt remarkably cozy.
Auretheos was seated at the grand table in the center of the room, surrounded by stacks of dusty tomes and ancient scrolls, all of which made him look…
wildly out of place. His broad shoulders and unfairly sculpted face didn’t exactly scream “bookworm.” Honestly, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a war epic, not elbow-deep in parchment.
Without so much as glancing up, he gestured for us to approach. Then, because apparently he could hear my thoughts or had impeccable comedic timing, he slowly reached for a pair of glasses and slid them on. Theatrically. I half expected him to wink.
I clasped my hands behind my back like a schoolgirl summoned to the principal’s office and tiptoed closer, careful not to touch a single priceless relic.
Then, without a greeting or even a basic “hello,” he stood up and said,
“Can you read, Madam?”
I blinked.
Excuse me?
“Of course I can read, sir,” I replied, keeping my tone on the safe side of snippy.
Caelan, standing beside me, made a valiant effort to contain his laughter.
Auretheos didn’t flinch. “I haven’t visited the human realm in centuries. Forgive me if I’m unfamiliar with the intricacies of your world.”
“The God of Wisdom doesn’t know if humans can read?” I shot back before my brain could catch up with my mouth. “I thought you knew everything.”
Silence.
I would’ve sold my soul to snatch those words out of the air. This wasn’t like me. Not anymore. I knew not to anger a man and surely not a living, breathing God.
Caelan outright snorted now. Auretheos gave him a look so sharp it could have flayed skin. Without a word, Caelan held up his hands in surrender and retreated to one of the sofas lining the room.
Terrifyingly, Auretheos turned his full attention to me. “I have read every book in this library,” he said, tone patient but firm. “I have knowledge of many things. But I will never make the mistake of assuming I know everything. That is true wisdom.”
I lowered my gaze, chastised. I should have kept my mouth shut. “You’re right. That was… impulsive. Apologies.”
For a fleeting moment, something flickered across his face. Disappointment? Amusement? A missed opportunity for debate? Whatever it was, it vanished too fast to name.
“Have you read the prophecy?” he asked me instead.
I shook my head. “I had never heard about the prophecy before, and prophecies aren’t anything humans concern themselves with.”
“We will get to that at a later date. In short: The fact of your creation and my birth was no accident. It is a signal, an omen, that something stirs in the dark. And whether we are ready or not, the burden of facing it will fall to us,” Auretheos clarified.
“These here are maps of our world, unlike anything you have seen. The human maps only ever show their own continent and a few islands, because the other parts of the world lay hidden from them.”
The map indeed exceeded anything I had imagined the world beyond our borders to look like.
The biggest two continents were Sevalis, the human continent and Aerethia, where I stood now.
But between the two of them, there were several smaller islands, some of them connected to each other by stretches of land.
To the north there was another vast continent, interspersed with small lakes.
I suddenly felt embarrassed for all the times I had claimed to be well-traveled because obviously, I had only seen a fraction of what this world had to offer.
Auretheos’ voice pulled me out of my musings.
“For thirty years, my agents have moved in silence,” Auretheos began, still focused on the scroll before him.
“Since the moment we learned of your birth, we have watched the realm patiently. Some of the isles remain unreachable, remote, warded, and fiercely defended by Fae who do not welcome unfamiliar faces.”
He lifted a hand and pointed to a region on the northern map. “The threat remains… unclear. But all signs lead us here. Lacustria. The lakes remain silent, yet the weight of that silence has grown.”
I knew I should’ve been paying attention.
Lacustria sounded vaguely ominous and suspiciously wet, but instead, I was staring at his hands.
They were large, strong, and calloused in a way that didn’t make sense for someone who spent all day indoors surrounded by dusty books.
Either the man moonlighted as a sword smith, or the library had a fight club I didn’t know about.
If he noticed my intense analysis of his knuckles, he gave no indication. His voice remained calm as ever. “Has anything unusual occurred in your realm recently?”
This time, his eyes met mine.
And wow. That look short-circuited something in my brain.
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
“You mean aside from being cornered in the geography department by a shrine rag from another realm, who decided I was destined to fight evil because of some dusty old prophecy? No, all perfectly normal.”
Auretheos didn’t react. Didn’t blink. The man didn’t even twitch.
After a few long, painful beats, he looked back at the map and hummed. Just… “Hmm.”
I glanced over at Caelan, who shrugged and mouthed, “No social skills.”
Meanwhile, Auretheos had already resumed scribbling in some language I didn’t recognize. He paused, then: “One final question before you’re shown to your chambers. What is it that you can do with your heka, Maelis?”
The way he said my name? Criminal. Like the verbal equivalent of whiskey: warm, smooth, and dangerous. I momentarily forgot how to breathe.
What was wrong with me? I blinked, shook my head slightly, and forced myself to focus.
“Ehm, usually, I write my spells down on paper. I invoke the Fates, burn the spell after it works. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t.” My voice softened. “Not all of them come true.”
My mind drifted briefly to my mother. What would she say if she could see me now?
Auretheos studied me again, eyes dragging over me with a clinical kind of interest. “Then you have only tapped into a fraction of your gift. We will begin training at once.”
He turned his head. “Caelan. Contact Lydia. She is to meet Maelis at the Lodge immediately.”
Caelan stood and nodded. “She’s a wordsmith like you,” he explained to me. “One of the best. She’ll handle your training.”
A fraction of my gift. The words echoed inside me.
If what he said was true, if I’d been using only a sliver of what I was capable of, then maybe…
maybe there was still hope. Could I be strong enough to heal my mother?
To undo what years of illness and helplessness had taken from us?
My heart clenched at the possibility, followed swiftly by fear.
Power always came with a cost. I knew that better than anyone.
And yet, for the first time in a long while, the ache inside me felt like something that could change into hope.
Caelan’s tone shifted and he pulled his shoulders back. “Before we go… There’s something you should know.” He turned to Auretheos. “We were attacked earlier. The Heralds found Maelis at the same time we did. Tried to take her. She held them off, giving me enough time to deal with the rest.”
I didn’t like the way Auretheos’s gaze swept over me with a measured, detached look on his face. Like he was inspecting a weapon rather than a person.
“Are you injured?” he asked curtly.
“No, I’m fine. I’m looking forward to a bath, though. And maybe some food.”
He nodded once, already turning to lead us toward the entrance.
I waved awkwardly like the mortal disaster I was and started walking toward the front doors with Caelan. We’d barely gotten a few steps when Auretheos called out behind us:
“Oh, and Maelis… I shall be keeping a very close eye on my cane and my glasses.”
The door shut behind him with impeccable comedic timing.
My mouth dropped open. “He heard that?”
Caelan didn’t even look surprised. “There’s very little he doesn’t hear or see. You’ll get used to it.”