Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
-LIL-
The salty tang of the sea rushed to greet me as I stepped through the door.
The beach before me was a hushed, lonely place.
Only the faint outline of sand dunes in the distance broke the monotony of the shore, their shadows lengthening as the tide rolled in and out, kissing my bare feet with a cool, rhythmic insistence.
The sky was caught between day and dusk, painted in hues of violet and gold, while the first stars blinked awake. Their faint, tremulous light held me captive.
The stars were different here—I had noticed that as soon as we arrived in the Home of Souls—but this sky was unlike any I had ever known.
It was a peculiar blending, a marriage of the familiar constellations of Eldara with the alien patterns of this new world.
Atlia, Malize, and the Stag glimmered in their usual places, but alongside them burned constellations I had never seen.
They seemed closer somehow, their light cascading over the empty shore like an invitation, or perhaps a warning.
“Quaint, is it not?” Thetius’s voice broke through my reverie, jarring me back into the present.
“It is.” Slipping into the measured tone I’d perfected under the watchful eye of Thalius, I wondered why Thetius had been able to come here with me, when Dainan was nowhere to be seen. “I was just admiring the additions to your sky.” My words were polite—the kind that deflected rather than invited.
“Ah, yes.” Thetius clasped his hands behind his back and strolled to my side, his presence as unwelcome as the chill creeping up my ankles from the tide.
The mist curling over the water’s surface had thickened, a ghostly shroud that seemed intent on hiding whatever lay beneath.
I couldn’t blame the sea. If anyone tried to look into my depths, I’d hide too.
“Some of them are just visiting,” Thetius said, lifting his gaze skyward. He pointed to a cluster of stars, their arrangement unfamiliar yet strikingly beautiful. “That one, for example, arrived not long before you did.” His mouth curved into a faint, knowing smile.
“The stars change here?”
“They do indeed. That group over there, you see, just to the right,” he pointed to a spot in the sky where four stars shone brightly, “that is the Tetrarchy. The one in the middle there, just there,” he gestured his hand to the center, “will be experiencing great change sooner than it knows.” Thetius replied, his voice dipping into that infuriatingly cryptic cadence he favored.
“Look over there.” He gestured southward, where a familiar pattern of stars hung low on the horizon. “That forms part of the Celestial Huntress. And over there—” he turned westward, “—those are the Twin Flames. They’ve been fixtures in the sky since She placed them there.”
“She?” I prodded, though his evasiveness was already beginning to wear on me. I had a purpose, and it was to find whatever pulled me here. He was the one who had told me my answers were within reach.
“Yes, of course, She. It always starts with a She or a They. Never a He. As a matter of fact, in this case, it most definitely began with a She and They. He came third.”
His words were riddles wrapped in riddles, deliberately obtuse, and yet there was something in his tone that made me wary of dismissing him entirely. “I see,” I murmured, though I didn’t. Not really.
“Are you a test, Thetius?” My hands clasped behind my back as I circled the hideously robed man on the beach with me.
“Everything in this life is a test. Your test began the second you opened your eyes. I know your life has not been easy.” He clicked his tongue, striding toward me.
“There are some who are born to privilege. Those who will never know the ills of their world, or any other. Some may call it a blessing. But are you blessed to remain in ignorance? To never truly experience life—to be bereft of knowledge, understanding, compassion? That is not a way to live.”
“I know people like that.” I mused.
“But of course you do. You are married to one. Although I do question how much and how little he knows. Our viewings have been muddled recently. But that is not why we are here.”
“He has nothing to do with this?”
“This, my dear, is your reason. Not his. I do not believe he will ever be called to this place. He may be drawn here for another reason but that is not up to me to say. We all have roles to play.”
“Am I to believe I was summoned here because my role is one of importance?” Gazing at the sky, I was grateful the flashing images had ceased. Happy to look out at the familiar glow of my stars and to welcome new ones.
“The Dark Lord out there, or whatever you choose to call him, has his role to play. A grand one. But you, my dear…” He trailed off, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made my skin prickle. He gestured for me to follow as he began walking.
“Where exactly are we walking to?” I pressed, eager to know where this strange man in outrageous robes was leading me. My gaze flicked to the offending fabric again, despite myself. I really need to let go of the robes—this is not the time.
My mind refused to cooperate, as it often did. Even when the stakes were high, it latched onto the absurd, spinning thoughts faster than I could keep up. It had been that way since I was a child—an endless stream of musings, memories, and chatter. Seldom silent, even in sleep.
“The journey is often more enjoyable than the destination, Ms. Towler,” Thetius replied at last, his voice carrying a maddening calm that made my agitation worse.
“It never helps to be afraid. Life changes, and we are but mere pawns in its game. There are moments, Lilianna, where we are granted the opportunity to become players, not just the pieces on the board. And fear does nothing but hold us back. My apologies,” he said, pressing a palm to his chest. “Lil.”
“I will allow that to slide… only once.” My lips curved into what I hoped was a polite, diplomatic smile—one I’d practiced to perfection.
Thetius chuckled softly. “I see through that, you know,” he remarked, slipping his hands behind his back as he strolled along the edge of the shore, his pace frustratingly casual.
“You forget, dear girl, you are far from the first politician’s niece I have encountered on my long and winding journey. ”
I raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
His eyes turned skyward, scanning the expanse above. The stars shifted as he walked, their brightness ebbing and flowing like the tide. I followed his gaze, noticing for the first time that we were moving toward a part of the sky that was dark—a void, untouched by constellations.
“What is this realm called?”
“This is an extension of the Tides of Memory. A gateway to the Well. Billions live here, but few of us actually live here,” he added cryptically, his words twisting themselves into riddles as he smiled at me. “All of this will make more sense soon.”
I doubted that.
The further we walked, the more I regretted entering the door.
I need to get through this. I need my answers—as does Dainan—we need a way back.
The pull of this place—the song that had lured me through the door—had been irresistible.
No matter how much I wished otherwise, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to stay away.
“Does time work differently in Ossmera than in Eldara?” I asked, hoping to fill the growing silence between us. The quiet here wasn’t comforting; it pressed against my chest, thick and stifling, like the weight of an unseen gaze. Rai’s gaze.
“What a marvelous question, Lil. It does!” Thetius’s face lit up, smiling the way a teacher might when their favorite pupil offered a particularly insightful answer.
“Would you care to elaborate?” The sky grew darker as we marched toward what, I assumed, would be another door.
“There are many variables to consider. Like who is waiting here, and who is waiting there. You see, time is not as linear as people wish to believe it to be. It is a construct.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I had walked right into this. Dainan had the right idea. Accept the silence, no matter how vexing it was.
“In the beginning, there was no time. Now you might be thinking, the word beginning implies something began, and that implies a span of time,” he continued, warming to his subject.
“Not truly. They didn’t need time. They simply…
were. But She wanted organization. She required it.
It was quite natural when you think about it, it was her essence.
Beginnings do require a time to mark that something has started—an origin point, if you will, and She saw to it.
” Each response he gave grew more abstract, more convoluted, until his words felt like smoke slipping through my grasp.
“They, of course, never required time, as I mentioned. They were happy to simply be, to exist, but not truly exist. That was the point of their existence, you see.”
In an attempt to drown out his voice, I slowed my breathing, a tool I had learned from Brida. I listened to the tides as the sound of the song returned once more, growing louder with each step we took.
The melody continued as we made our way to the darkened part of the sky, the absence of light notable compared to the shimmering expanse of stars that danced around us. It was beautiful. I wish I could show this to you, Kadian.
“But you see, He was there to round out the circle, the closer as it were. For when there is a beginning, there must be an ending. And what an ending it shall be.” Thetius stopped walking as we reached the edge of the beach.
The sound came first—a deep, guttural roar that shook the air around us.
I stopped in my tracks, drawn toward the source even as a flicker of fear sparked in my chest. Thetius continued walking ahead, unbothered, his robes catching on the wind like a banner.
“If you see here, Lil.” Thetius gestured upwards, “The sky is vacant. Her star has been dim for far too long. A forgotten Dawn.”
I followed him, my feet sinking into the sand as we neared a rocky outcrop.
The beach transitioned here, the smooth expanse of shoreline giving way to jagged black stone that gleamed like obsidian under the faint light of the stars.
Waves surged forward, battering the rocks like fighters in the ring.
At the heart of it was a gaping chasm—a hole carved into the earth itself, as if some unseen hand had torn it open. Water rushed into the void, churning and bubbling before exploding back out in a foaming spray. It was a breathing, living thing. Each cycle was both mesmerizing and terrifying
Thetius stopped, turning to look at me with an expression that, for once, wasn’t smug or perplexing. “This is The Well,” he said simply, gesturing toward the hole. “A passage between what is and what could be. What must be.”
I stepped closer, the pull of the chasm almost magnetic. The tide surged again, crashing against the rocks with a sound like thunder. The spray rose high into the air, catching the faint light and scattering it like shards of glass.
“It calls to me,” I whispered, more to myself than to Thetius.
“I should hope so. Or this trip will have been for naught,” he said. “The Well remembers. Each wave that crashes in, each drop of water that fills its depths—it all becomes part of something larger. Something eternal. Water has memories.”
“Why are we here?” I demanded again, louder this time, the edge of my patience fraying. Thetius stood just behind me, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the furious whirl of water below.
“To see,” he said simply, as though the word alone could explain everything.
“To see what?” My face flushed, my temper flaring, “Be honest—is this a place for lost souls. You have us wander here for eternity, under the guise that we are here for a purpose, a reason. A reason we will desperately seek until we drop dead, and become flashing faces in the sky.” I snapped, turning to glare at him.
“Do you know what awaits us back in Eldara? Our world is on the brink of a political collapse, and yet you stymie us. You are preventing me from moving towards the one thing that will give me my answers. You are a Seer—part of the Scala. And yet you refuse to answer my questions. Are you my test, Thetius? Is mine to be one of patience?” My hands moved as I spoke, racing with the frenetic energy that pulsed in my veins.
“I must tell you, I have reached my limit. Now tell me, what’s my reason? Where is it?”
His gaze locked with mine, and something shifted in his expression—a faint flicker of resolve, or perhaps something darker. Before I could step away, before I could even think, he moved.
I felt the pressure of his hands on my shoulders, firm and unyielding. “Some come to their reason quickly, Lil. Others, well, they require a little push.”
And then I was falling.