“Nothing that I felt of importance to record.” He eyes her for a moment as if trying to determine if she is trust worthy. This is simply a hand written document by a former priestess. Without the original we can’t verify the validity of it.
As if prompted by the uncomfortable assessment, she continues, “The Vaylors set Varethiel up with a ruling council before any of you were expected. I’m assuming they had never heard of the prophecy and didn’t realize the implications. Halcya instructed me to keep the prophecy quiet after the births so the kingdoms wouldn’t panic about the change that would come.”
She shakes her head, looking down to the floor. “But they never had any intention of you ruling. That was confirmed for me the moment they sent you away. And clearly Gaia realized it too since the storms started soon after.”
I just stare at her, speechless. I had never put together that the storms started after I left. I was so young and lost in my grief of being separated from Nova and Cillian.
“I tried to fight it.I tried, Nissa, I really did,” she implores. “When I continued to question Halyca and tried to go directly to the Vaylors, I was removed from the Priestess ranks. She made everyone think I was crazy. Once you left, I knew the Vaylors wouldn’t let someone who knew about the prophecy live. So I copied the important part and ran. I had planned to come back once you were older but… I was a coward. Then word of yoursister’s death came…” She looks down, tears falling onto her lap. “I knew it didn’t matter.”
Hands fisted at his sides, Cillian continues to study the page. “When did the prophecy surface? Who was the source?”
“I don’t know when it surfaced.” Celyste swipes away tears, gathering herself. “Asteria and Gaia had a hand in the prophecy. I wasn’t far enough into my studies to be sure why the witch Goddess was involved in our politics.”
“My parents knew the whole time.” Cillian grips my hand. “This settles it. You’re not safe in Solevara.” He searches my face with intensity that overflows my heart.
“Halcya met with your mother often back then. It was clear she knew and orchestrated many decisions. Though I can’t imagine your father wasn’t part of it.”
“But this doesn’t explain anything about Nova or help us stop the storms,” I argue. “I can’t fulfill this prophecy, whoever I marry," I wave at the parchment, "since she’s dead. There’s only one of us to rule.”
“The Vaylors”—she spits out the royal name in disgust, glaring at Cillian—"don’t care about stopping the storms. All they are interested in is maintaining their power even if it is at the expense of those they rule.”
“Icare about those we rule.” Ignoring the venom she’s directing his way. “We can’t do anything about the fact that Nova isn’t here anymore. So, how do I stop the storms?” Cillian demands.
He still wants to fix it for the Fae, even though the prophecy can’t be completed.
“How can you be sure it is about the prophecy at all if the storms are still happening?” How can you be so sure?” I challenge the female in front of me. She has a lot of opinions but only one thing is confirmed in the words in front of me. That I am to rule. Everything else is just guessing.
“You’re right, I can’t be sure. But if I were to guess why they are still happening and why they followed you here…” She drops her eyes to our linked hands.
A loud boom echoes through the forest. I look out the window and spot a fallen tree. This forest is being as battered and beaten as Castara and the elemental lands.
Is me becoming Caspien’s queen the key to making the destruction stop…? Has the prophecy shifted now that Nova is gone. Do I just need to be on the throne?
My mind whirls as I try to put the pieces together. “We need to go. We’ve learned all we can here.”
When we make it to the hallway, Celyste’s voice follows us. “I really am sorry, Nissa. For every part that I played and everything that has happened to you and your sister as a result of it.”
I turn back to face her. “Do you know what truly happened to her?”
“I don’t,” she states simply.
And I believe her.
The wind whips my hair around me as soon as we step back into the storm. Cillian turns and pushes both hands into my hair. Holding it back, he tilts my head up and looks into my eyes. I wonder if I look as haunted as he does.
“Where to, Nis? Anywhere you want, we’ll go,” he offers thickly.
“We have to go back.” The words are barely audible over the storm. But as soon as they leave my mouth, the wind disappears and the rain slackens. Thunder still rumbles but only in the distance, a low warning.
Cillian jerks his head around in shock.
“I think that answers one question,” I say, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Gaia agrees. She wants us back in Castara.”
“I won’t just hand you over to Caspien. I can’t.” He is shaking his head, jaw tight. “I won’t.”
“According to Celyste, I was never yours to hand over,” I say. He looks like I’ve slapped him. “I’m not trying to be cruel. I just mean that we need to figure out what all of this means. What the Goddess wants from me. Maybe I’m supposed to marry Aiden? Who’s to say Caspien is the right choice in this? Or that I’m now the Goddess’s chosen princess for him? Nova and I may be the ‘mirrored princesses’ in the prophecy, but everything else is just guesses…” I finally take a breath, wind filling me.
As he digests my rush of words, I heave a sigh. “My point is that we don’t even know what Gaia is truly angry about or how the prophecy changed with Nova’s death.”
