Chapter 7 #3
“Yes. And he would continue on in the next world as Rhyan, albeit in a less-physical form, but he would have gone to his own realm, his own Heaven you might say, to exist as himself—somewhere that would make him happy, someplace where you could be with him, too. Forever. But at any point if he wanted, he could be … absorbed by me. Or by any of our incarnations. He could even—if he wished— watch what’s happening here.
Watch over you. I’m sure he’d be doing that now if he weren’t—well, where he is.
But he’d always be able to return to himself.
He’d always be Rhyan. With every incarnation—every lifetime lived—my soul only expands. I simply become more.”
“So you all continue to exist?” I asked. “I’m Asherah. But after I … when I die at the end of this life, I won’t just become Asherah again—unless I want to be? I’ll still be Lyriana?”
Auriel nodded. “If you choose, then yes. Imagine if you will, Lyriana at two years old, and Lyriana at seven, at twelve, sixteen … The younger versions of you never died. But none of them exist now. They’re all here—inside of you.
” He gestured to my chest. “In the celestial realms, the other versions can step out of your body, and exist separately on their own. Rhyan would be me, and not me. But he’d be home.
Back in Heaven. And he’s not. If there’s one thing I’m more aware of than of Asherah, it’s all of my lives, all of my incarnations and all of the souls that are born of them.
I know them all well. But Rhyan and I, we were close, and yet, I could not sense him at all.
That’s how I know he’s akadim. Which means his soul went somewhere else. ”
“Somewhere else?”
Auriel swallowed roughly. “Somewhere else.”
“Where?” This was the first time I’d ever heard discussion of souls going somewhere after being eaten.
Of them not being simply destroyed as I’d always been taught.
The idea that Rhyan was just somewhere else, lost, away from me—it wasn’t comforting, but it was maybe better than the idea of him being destroyed, having been eaten, and not existing at all.
Light began to fill the horizon. Sunrise was here, the sky was full of red, golden light. The rain softened, the drops growing sparser. It was letting up, the storm ending. Suddenly, the first warm glow of morning sun was shining across Gryphon Island, illuminating the rain.
“Lyriana, I think that—” Auriel froze. His eyes met mine, moving back and forth, his mouth falling open. “By the realms.” His voice filled with awe. “Your hair. Lyriana, your hair.”
I glanced down. It was soaking wet, plastered to my armor. Under the sunlight bursting through the drizzle, it was bright, fiery red. Batavia red.
But at that moment, I saw what Auriel did.
Asherah’s red.
“You,” he gasped. “You look just like her, like my love. You look just like yourself.” He reached his hand forward, taking a lock between his fingers, examining it with reverence. “Alive.”
I remained still, my heart pounding. Something was happening to me. Something was shifting inside. I was remembering Auriel. Remembering more than a flash of him on a beach, remembering more than just feeling a kind of reverence for his name.
I was remembering that I loved him. And just like he’d explained, that every incarnation made from his soul, expanded him, I felt like my heart was expanding, too. With love.
Auriel wasn’t Rhyan. He just wasn’t. But …
every second I spent with him, he felt more familiar to me.
More … mine, in a way I couldn’t explain.
Our souls were tethered together, and though I didn’t remember most of our history, or even our other lifetimes together, I could feel the weight of it all on my heart.
I could feel our connection to each other like it was a living, breathing thing.
Like our souls had always been in conversation, always seeking the other.
That’s what happened to me and Rhyan. We’d been kids, and drawn to each other even then, never understanding why.
My heart pounded. My body felt lighter.
And at last, the rain stopped.
Auriel released my hair, both of us breathing heavily. And then his fingers, callused and scarred like the rest of his hand, closed around the edge of my chest plate.
“You especially look like her, like yourself, wearing this.” Auriel released a shaky breath.
Asherah’s armor was made up of connecting golden Valalumir stars. What appeared to be diamonds mixed with starfire in the center of each star, was blood.
“By the realms.” His eyes widened, filling with tears, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he stepped back again, both hands fisted. “That’s not a replica. That’s the original. Hers.” He exhaled sharply. “I can feel her energy still attached to it. Sense her blood inside, mixed with mine.”
“And my blood, too. It’s how I’ve been calling on her. Calling on Rakashonim.”
He reached for my chest plate again, his knuckles suddenly whitening as he gripped the edges, shaking it. “He gave this to you. Didn’t he?” His eyes darkened. “Mercurial.”
I nodded slowly. “He made sure it was put in front of me on my birthday. And then he made sure I wore it.”
Auriel hissed. “That traitorous, two-faced, falcon-headed bastard!”
I blinked, surprised at how quickly his anger had flared.
Auriel’s gaze was distant, his eyes watering as he looked away.
“I … I buried her with this. Or I thought I had. I did everything I could to make it impossible to unseal her tomb. Impossible to disturb her, or … the shard she guarded within. Not without being told the secret by me. Without being told where the lock was. The answer to opening it was written in stone that could only be read in moonlight.”
The sun revealed my secrets, so I hid them with the moon.
“And the items needed—those were also supposed to be impossible to come by. A key I’d crafted with my own magic and kept on my person.
Then there was my soul—which I knew was likely to return.
And at last, my blood, which I thought was safe.
But, Mercurial deceived me. He’d kept her chest plate.
And now, Asherah’s tomb has been opened. ”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. I’d seen how Rhyan had been affected by it. How upset it had made him. Because he remembered. Because he was Auriel. And then even after that night, he’d dreamed about it. He’d had nightmares for weeks. Reliving Asherah’s death—my death. “We had to.”
“I know you did.” He sighed heavily, looking defeated. “When my own time came to an end, I designed my tomb in such a way, no one would ever disturb it. I knew I had to find the means to keep what I stored inside safe.”
“Your tomb?” I blinked, and my throat tightened. “Auriel, where is it?”
He swallowed roughly. His eyes moved past me, sliding back and forth. His hair had started to dry, and in the morning sun, the curls shone with gold. His eyes were even more green in the light. More like the green of Rhyan’s eyes. My heart thundered.
“I believe,” he said slowly, his voice shaking, “that you’re standing right in front of it.”
I spun around. The Guardian of Bamaria. The gryphon!
All those years, Rhyan and I had wondered, researched, speculated.
All the theories of what it could mean. I had thought it might be possible last night, thought there was some significance to it, some reason I’d come here of all places.
To the symbol most closely associated with Rhyan, and with the God he once was.
“Auriel,” I said, a small surge of hope beginning to simmer in my chest. “Do you think there’s a reason I came here last night?
” A thousand more questions filled my mind.
But before I could ask any of them, a dark shadow swallowed the sun above us.
A shadow moving fast. There was a screech in the air. A sound I hadn’t heard in months.
A seraphim. It landed not far from us, its golden wings gleaming in the sunlight. A blue jeweled carriage sat atop its back. The bird settled and the carriage door sprung open.
I tensed, instinctively moving in toward Auriel, my hand snaking to the blade at my hip.
Five soturi jumped to the ground, their boots thudding into the sand. The silver armor of Ka Kormac was strapped to their chests. And in each of their hands, a starfire sword flickered with flames.
“What are you doing out here?” came a shout. One soturion stepped before the others, his aura blasting with a predatory viciousness. His beady eyes immediately marked him as a close relative of the Bastardmaker. “We have reports of a disturbance at the Guardian. Hands up, now!
Both of you.”
“Shit! Look!” shouted a second. “Look at the hair!”
The first one’s eyes narrowed. I was sure that he was the leader of the five. The turion amongst them. “Myself to fucking Moriel.” His hand tightened around his sword. “That’s Lyriana Batavia.”
Auriel angled his body protectively in front of mine. His movements were slow and methodical. His eyes never left the five soturi.
“Can I borrow this?” he whispered. His hand was warm on my hip, his fingers closing around the hilt of my dagger.
I was already going for my sword, our hands brushing together.
“Apparently,” he hissed, “this version of my mortal body wasn’t accessorized with a blade.”
“Take it,” I said as the metal scraped against my sheath. “You remember how to use it?”
Something in his aura darkened as he tossed the dagger into the air, and caught it with expert precision, his fingers tightening together as he thrust the blade forward. “I remember.”
“Lady Lyriana Batavia,” barked the soturion, “you are under arrest, by order of His Majesty, Emperor Avery for the murder of Arkturion Pompellus Agrippa. You are accused of orchestrating the murder of Emperor Theotis, for inciting an insurrection, breaking your oath as a soturion, colluding with vorakh, and for a whole fucking list of treasonous acts too long to recite.” He jerked his chin and the others began to stalk forward.
“Don’t even think of running. You’ll be dragged before His Majesty, and may the Gods bring justice upon you.
Now, hands in the fucking air. Seize them! ”