Chapter 21 #4
The commanding voice belonged to Xytharia Quellcrest. Her haunting presence brought a hush to the crowd. Even in the diverse city, there were few who looked like the High Priestess.
Blinking against the residual glow clouding her vision, Alethea slowly emerged from the depths of her prophecy, the contents of her stomach threatening to make a reappearance.
The brilliance of the sun returned, illuminating the Aeshlien standing protectively over her, shielding her from the clamor of the courtyard.
Alethea felt her knees weaken, the strain of her powers threatening to crumble her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Xytharia hissed, blood-red eyes narrowed.
“Helping,” Alethea replied, her voice raw.
“You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”
Amidst the chaotic cries and insistent voices, Xytharia hauled Alethea away.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurred visions of concerned faces and desperate pleas, as Xytharia expertly navigated them past the throng, shielding her from the petitioners.
Her grip was firm until they reached the sanctuary of the castle keep.
There, the echoing shouts of the crowd faded into the distance as the heavy doors swung shut behind them.
With the safety of the castle walls surrounding them, Xytharia released her hold on Alethea’s arm, giving her a moment to breathe. Alethea shrank, rubbing her arm.
“It’s true then,” Xytharia stated ominously. “You’re an Oracle. The Truth-Teller.”
“Yes,” she affirmed, her voice a mere whisper in the storm of her thoughts. They stood alone in the dimly lit chamber. The guards were undoubtedly summoning the Great Lord and Lady at this very moment, and she had no doubt Nakir would descend upon them soon.
“Then tell me,” Xytharia demanded, her voice low and intense, her aura pulsating with power as she stepped closer. “What do I need to defeat Roman Kentigern?”
Alethea could hear Nakir’s voice echoing in the recesses of her mind, reminding her she didn’t have to tread this perilous path; she didn’t have to keep giving more of herself.
But that name kept coming up, over and over again, like a haunting refrain. It was familiar in a way it shouldn’t be, like an echo of a dream—or a nightmare.
Alethea took Xytharia’s hands, waiting in the quiet until she could feel the woman’s strong, steady pulse.
The words didn’t want to come. They seemed to coil within her like sentient things, conscious of the peril they could unleash upon the world once spoken.
It felt like wrestling with unruly spirits, each syllable a battleground where her will clashed against an opposing force.
“You must seek the great promised power. You must go to the place that will destroy you. You must enter his Tomb.”
The words, mysterious and cryptic, spilled out of her like fragments of a forgotten language.
“No.” Xytharia’s voice trembled, a desperate plea escaping her lips. “No—not that. Anything but that.”
The High Priestess had seemed so strong and impossible to break, but the pure terror etched across her features painted a clear picture of a woman confronting the unfathomable.
Yet the vision that had gripped Alethea was incomplete. A violent spasm coursed through her body, her muscles contracting involuntarily. Her head rolled back, and her lips moved in tandem with the words that seemed to emerge from a realm beyond her own consciousness.
“Go to the Tomb and bury the part of yourself, or you will behold the end of the Unending, the death of Death himself.”
Alethea’s vision was opened wide, unveiling a sight beyond the tangible world. She witnessed a blinding white life force, radiant with the very essence of creation. This luminous energy held within it the most precious power of all: the fundamental force that shaped galaxies and birthed stars.
Its opposite lived in Xytharia now, swirling around her in a tender embrace. It was a gift born of love. But it would not be enough. It had to be replaced with something else—something greater. Something truly meant for her.
Perhaps Alethea might have recognized the bottom of her well, since she’d been close to it so many times.
It wasn’t like crashing into a stone floor and more like the arrival at another glistening pool, enigmatic and alluring and just within her reach.
The shimmering body before her was not only the source of her power, but also a gateway to creation and oblivion.
The force within it held secrets untold; truths that could reshape destinies and alter the course of worlds.
Maybe with it, she could save them all.
The luminous energy beckoned to her, whispering promises of greatness and transcendence, if she was willing to risk it. If she was willing to give everything.
In the reflection of that pool, she caught a glimpse of those faded visions and terrifying dreams that slipped between her fingers the moment she awoke. She saw that beautiful white light surrounding Xytharia over a battlefield and heard the massive wings beating in the distance.
If she could go... just a bit further...
She reached for that power—
“Alethea.”