Brockton had died too easily. Too quickly. I’d cried for him after—despite what he’d done to me. I felt guilty that night. Sorry even. I was going into shock over having taken my first life. At least, at having taken my first mortal life.
But now? Now if I could go back, I’d kill him again. And I’d do it slowly. Make it last. Make it painful. Tear him apart limb from limb. Remind him he was a worthless piece of gryphon-shit until he was a crying blubbering mess. I’d torture him until he’d lost all sense of himself. Until he was begging me for mercy, until he was crying out for the end.
But he was dead. And I had to focus on my immediate enemies.
Aemon, Bamaria’s Arkturion, the warlord known as the Ready. He was the man I’d thought of as an uncle, as aprotector growing up. And he was the deadliest soturion in Lumeria: the reincarnation of Moriel. A God. But he was so much worse. He was also vorakh—he could read minds. He’d been reading my mind my entire life. He knew my thought patterns, my darkest secrets and fears—my strengths, my weaknesses. He knew exactly how to manipulate me. And somehow, he could control the monstrous akadim. He’d found a way to siphon their power, to increase his own strength. To allow them to touch me despite Asherah’s blood running through my veins. He was the reincarnation of the most evil of Gods to walk the Earth, one of the seven original Guardians. And he was the Goddess Asherah’s worst enemy.
Myworst enemy.
As soon as Morgana, the reincarnation of Ereshya, handed him the indigo shard, the light of the Valalumir that Moriel had protected, he’d be unstoppable. He’d have more than just his soturion strength and an army of akadim behind him.
He’d have the power of a God. The power of a Guardian of the Valalumir.
The same power the immortal Afeya Mercurial wanted me to have.
I placed my hand on my chest, over the star between my breasts. It was a faint gold, barely noticeable unless I met another Guardian and their touch came too close to the Valalumir burning inside. It was part of the red light Asherah had guarded. The light Auriel had put inside her when he stole the Valalumir and fell to Earth.
But it was also my contract with Mercurial. I was bound to the immortal, forced to carry out his will in exchange for his silence about my relationship with Rhyan. His price: I was to claim my power, and then grant him a favor of his asking. Mercurial would come for us soon. Would offer instructions,would demand I retrieve the red shard, the shard which would unlock my true form. My true power. With the shard in my possession, I would be remade as Asherah.
I rolled the stave up and down my palm. My stave. Asherah’s stave. It was long and made of dark sun wood, unlike any I’d seen before. Starfire diamonds circled the top. After I’d found it in Asherah’s tomb—inmytomb—I’d used the indigo shard to restore it. And now I was not only a soturion, but also a mage.
And soon, I’d be a Goddess.
Soon I’d have to fight Aemon. Fight Moriel reborn.
But Jules … Jules was alive.
I choked back something raw and visceral, emanating from my soul, something between a sob and a scream, just thinking of what she had endured, of what she might still be enduring.
Flames from a nearby torch crackled, and a small spring in the cave was trickling, the sounds echoing against the walls. My aura flared and my skin heated despite the cave’s cold.
I closed my eyes, and I saw her. I saw Jules on the dais of Auriel’s Chamber in the Temple of Dawn more than two years ago. Saw the eternal flame casting red light over her body. Saw her hold her stave for the first time, and the last. I watched as she dropped it and succumbed to her vorakh—as she saw her first vision.
I could still see the fear in her eyes, feel the terror in her aura, and I remembered how I sat there—sat and did nothing. How I let Tristan hold me back and whisper that she had to die, that she was a monster. I didn’t save her. And I couldn’t stop her experiencing years of torture and suffering, alone.
I’d barely rescued Meera from a similar fate when she revealed her own vorakh.
Lying a few feet away, my eldest sister made a small noise, a moan of distress. I opened my eyes, watching as she turned over. Her body stilled, and within a few seconds, her breath evened from inside her small alcove. For some reason, she preferred that to being closer to the fire where Rhyan and I were. I was unsure of the full extent of the horrors she’d experienced in her captivity. She swore she’d just been hungry, uncomfortable, and scared of the akadim. Rhyan had checked her over for any open cuts and injuries, but she was already bandaged up, rather crudely. And she was thin. So, so thin. They’d starved her. Reversing that had been Rhyan’s main mission these last few days. The food he was bringing home to build her strength back up was working, but not fast enough.
I looked longingly down the corridor where he was fast asleep, tucked beneath his cloak in the dark. So close, but so far away.
Rhyan. My love. My best friend. My soulmate.
Gods, I just wanted to go to him. Run down the hall and crawl back beneath his cloak. I wanted to snuggle against him as his arms wrapped around me. I needed to feel his hand find its way to my belly, the way it always did when he was fast asleep. I wanted to feel his comforting weight around me, on me, beneath me. I wanted to inhale his scent. But I couldn’t go back there. Now that I had my magic, my aura was blasting my emotions everywhere without control. If my fidgeting didn’t wake him, the swirling turmoil of my energy would. And Rhyan needed rest. He’d used more energy these last few weeks than he ever had. He was constantly fighting, and using his vorakh to get us across the Empire. Within weeks he’d crossed hundreds of miles, all while holding me. He definitely didn’t need me disturbing him now. If anyone of us needed rest, it was him.
A hot wind pushed against me, hissing violently as it blew out several torches.
It took me a second to realize it wasn’t the wind. It was me. My aura. My emotions were out of control.
Fuck.
I ran for the mouth of the cave, my hands shaking as I crossed the protective wards. For a second, their magic hummed in my ears, vibrating with their strength. The wards had been the first spell I’d learned. I’d walked around the perimeter of the cave, my stave in hand with Meera by my side. She’d instructed me on exactly what pressure to apply with my fingers as I turned my wrist, helped me say the words with the right inflection, and focused my magic. I’d cast the spell twice. Partly to practice, partly because I didn’t trust our enemies not to find their way through our gates.
Outside, the gryphon we’d acquired from the Allurian Pass opened one eye to watch me, making soft growling sounds as his chest rose and fell. One enormous wing shifted as he scanned our surroundings, and with a huff, he returned to sleep.
I stepped forward onto one of the few patches of ground not covered in snow. The wind blew through my hair, biting my cheeks. The wards of the cave continued to hum. Not knowing what else to do, I picked up a rock beside my foot, and with a cry, I threw it at a tree, listening for the sound of the crash. Then I found another, and another. I kept throwing them, hot tears in my eyes, my body shaking with rage.
“Lyr?” Rhyan’s voice came from inside my shirt. A small blue light emanated from the vadati stone I wore on a necklace. “Lyr, where are you?” There was obvious worry in his voice.
