Her eyes scanned the room, and then she nodded. The blue light of her magic sparked forth, followed by a glow of red. Asherah’s red, the light of the Valalumir she still possessed.
Shiviel’s eyes widened, his power momentarily weakened.
Asherah rushed forward with a war cry, her stave replaced by a sword gleaming with starfire that she lifted over her head.
“Now!” she yelled, giving the command I’d been waiting for.
I readjusted my fingers along the hilt, my grip finally tight enough, as the fires spread to my sword. Our eyes met, and together, Asherah and I plunged our blades down through Shiviel’s body, cutting through his armor, slicing him in half.
Light exploded in the ruins, blinding me.
My body was flung backwards and Asherah screamed in agony, her cries like a knife in my heart.
I was about to hit the ground and then, something caught me. Stopped my fall.
I gasped, rolling over onto the temple floor, not even bothering to look as I crawled to my knees. Asherah. I needed to find Asherah.
She lay on her back, her arms outstretched, her eyes closed, and her chest plate askew. Her sword lay beside her, just beyond her fingertips.
“Asherah,” I roared. “Asherah!” I crawled forward, my knees, my hands, everything in agony. But I wouldn’t stop until I reached her side, until I pulled her against me, holding her, hugging her. “Asherah! Wake up. Wake up!” I searched for her pulse, the beating of her heart.
She coughed, her eyes slowly opening as she blinked up at me. “Auriel,” she said, her voice weak.
I stroked the side of her face, pushing her flaming red locks from her forehead. “I’m here. I’m right here. You saved me. Again.”
“Rakame.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Always. I’ll always save you.”
“And I you,” I said, my voice breaking. “Mekara. Always.”
“Did we do it?” she asked, her hand brushing against my face. I closed my eyes, relishing the feeling of her, and her touch. I’d missed that—missed her.
But there’d be time for that later. Fires crackled around us, and a strange aura was filling the temple. An uneasiness wrapped around me, a force of wild magic, all at once ancient and new. Gingerly, we sat up, still holding onto each other, assuring still that the other was all right.
Looking ahead, Asherah gasped, taking my hand. And then I saw it.
What we’d done to Shiviel.
He lay on the ground where we’d attacked him, unconscious. His body was whole, but diminished. He was smaller than he’d just been, as if the sword had taken inches from his height. His eyes opened slowly, blinking in horror. They were still yellow. But the fires inside them had vanished. The light that had shone from his skin, from his soul, the markings of a Guardian, of a God, the feel of his celestial aura were gone. He looked … human. Mortal. Weak.
On the other side of the ruins was another body. Small. That of a young child. This was the source of the unfamiliar energy I’d felt. It was growing stronger, filling the temple, replacing that which was gone. Shiviel’s celestial aura had vanished. But the energy that made him who he was—the part of him that I’d known for centuries, that contained his essence and personality, that still existed.
Asherah let go of my hand, and crawled forward, moving slowly, gingerly toward the child. And as I turned my attention to them, I could feel that this body was both Shiviel and not-Shiviel. My old friend, my brother, and fellow Guardian—the God I’d lost in this war, almost felt like they’d returned. And somehow, despite the history I could sense, the child’s aura felt as if it had just been born.
I suppose it had. It was a piece of Shiviel’s soul that now lived.
Naked and shivering, the child quickly wrapped itself in a discarded blanket, pulling it tightly around their shoulders.
I stared at the cherubic face, the large brown eyes. The child was innocent, so young it was impossible to see if they were a boy or a girl. My stomach turned with guilt. We hadn’t known this would be the result. That an innocent would come from our magic. But we’d had to do it—Shiviel had to be stopped, weakened.
The child cried out, then shook their head in disbelief. “I … I can feel it. My death. My birth. All at once.” Their breath came in short, panicked gasps. “It’s so much.”
“We had no choice,” I whispered.
“It must feel so confusing” Asherah said gently. “But you’re going to be all right. I swear. You don’t have to be alone in this. I know the role I played. And I’m sorry for it.”
A tear rolled down the child’s cheek as they stared at their feet, poking out from the blanket. Their hands opened and closed in their lap. Eyes widening, they lifted their arms, looking at their skin. Almost pink in its newness. Unscarred, unblemished. Perfect.
“Are you hurt?” Asherah asked. “We can’t stay here. But we’ll take you with us. Protect you. Can you walk?”
