Chapter 11 #2
She paused, her gaze dancing back and forth between his eyes.
An entire bouquet of emotions shimmered over her face—disbelief, anger, panic, disgust—until she finally settled on passive resignation.
“Fine. You don’t believe it. But this whole realm believes it, Sean.
This is the doctrine of Luxoria. Everyone has heard our story.
Everyone knows the tale of the two half-mortal brothers, one fated for good, the other for evil, and the woman who drove them to it.
After it was done, an oracle foresaw Lhynion’s heir righting the imbalance.
The realm was promised a redo, and they’ve been waiting for you.
It’s a bedtime story for the children of this realm.
A religion in want of a god. Folklore still waiting for its ending.
They fall to their knees in your name. They call you Ashanta, the divine light, the one destined to save us from the brink of destruction. ”
His breath came faster, trying to keep up with a heart that wanted to pound out of his chest.
“You have to play the game, Sean. Do you understand? You have to be the man they expected. If you refuse to play along, this realm will fall apart. We’re barely surviving here, persevering with blind faith and the fading Luster. You’re our last hope.”
“I don’t—”
Her voice went razor thin. “So you’ll accept your father’s guidance.
You are Caden Seán Sidera, the only heir of our most noble family.
When you are coronated, you will step into your role as Sovereign.
You’ll pretend that you’re in love with me until you realize that you are.
You will not feed into this animosity with Galadaine’s heir.
You put on a show. Be the Savior they want you to be.
It’s the only way this works. And if it turns out that none of it’s true, then you’ve lost nothing.
You are loved here. Revered. Let them worship at your altar. ”
“I don’t want this.” His words emerged thready, barely more than a whisper.
“Don’t you get it? You are a preordained messiah. No one cares what you want. Saviors aren’t allowed desires. They’re borne out of necessity to fulfill a role. So fill it.”
Sean paced away, staring at the vivid sky, the rainbows that refracted from the floating Luster. “If I’m a Savior, then what are you?”
When she said nothing, he turned to look at her. Her tone softened, as did the look in her eye. “I am Ill?nia. The Martyr.”
They call it a blood debt.
My destiny is you.
“And what do they call David?” he asked.
“He is Djiante.”
The Lux term slipped from her mouth, and Lhynion’s memories roughly translated it to Shadow. The opposite of Ashanta’s divine light.
Sean pressed his palms to his face, rubbing away the headache that pounded in his eyebrows. He’d had no razor this morning, so whiskers scraped at his skin when he dragged his hands down his face. “If they want to worship me, then why did my mother think this place was unsafe?”
Leaves rustled as she stepped closer and set a hand on his shoulder. “Lhynion’s life ended with great violence at the hand of his brother. We believe you’ll face similar brutality, and it’s not known whether you’ll survive it.”
His blood turned to ice, breaking goosebumps across his skin. They thought David might kill him? “I thought your magic ensures I will.”
“Nothing is guaranteed, Sean. If you had a son, would you want this for him?”
No.
He wouldn’t.
He didn’t want it himself.
“I need some time,” he said, suddenly desperate to be free of her. “Alone.”
Troubled lines appeared beside her mouth, but she nodded and let him leave.
His feet carried him through the forest, away from Isobel and her harsh truths. He walked blindly, but he didn’t seek isolation. Instead, he made it back to the Tree and asked around until someone spilled the location he needed.
Aunt Blaire opened the door to her quarters in a wide arc.
“They say I’m a messiah,” Sean said, voice cracking. “Is it true?”
Her face crumpled, and she opened her arms. Sean stepped into them without hesitation.
“It’s going to be fine, Sean,” she murmured. “You’ll see.”
“I don’t belong here. Mom tried to save me from this.”
“She was a foolish woman. She never would have thwarted your destiny in the end.”
A moment passed, and he let slip a truth he wouldn’t admit to anyone but her: “I wish she was here.”
“I do, too.”
After she released him several moments later, they made their way into her modest quarters.
Cole stepped out of one room—a bedroom—a smile lighting his face. “Hey, stranger.”
Better than Savior, Sean thought. “You’ll never believe what they’re saying about me.”
The three of them settled on plush sofas in their sitting room.
“Oh, I heard,” Cole said. “Doesn’t take much probing before they’re praising your name and praying for deliverance.”
Sean rested his elbows on his knees and studied his clasped hands. “What if I can’t be the person they think I am?”
“Meh.” Cole shrugged. “You always find a way.”
A dry laugh rose in his throat. “Easy for you to say when it’s not all resting on your shoulders.”
“Yeah,” Cole said with a brazen chuckle. “It is.”
Aunt Blaire grabbed his hand. “You won’t be alone. We will help you. Kywyn, too. Autumn and Isobel. We want nothing more than your success. You have only to ask for help, and it will be given.”
“What if I fail?” he whispered.
“You won’t,” Aunt Blaire said with absolute confidence.
Sean’s gaze sought Cole’s.
“Then you’ll get up, and you’ll try again,” his cousin said. “Remember Advanced Calc? Or the four-minute mile? Spinning a basketball? The Rubik’s Cube? You sucked, but you just kept doing it until you succeeded. It’s what you’ve always done. This is no different.”
He tried to smile. “It’s a little different.”
“No, Sean. It’s not different. Being this person they want is a skill you can learn.” Cole’s unwavering gaze unwound a tiny knot of tension in Sean’s chest.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Just…learn it.”