“Not the cure itself, but it speaks of it, yes.” He took a deep breath. “The truth is that Canturiel was asked to create the Valalumir by the Council.” He closed his eyes, like he was trying to remember carefully. “It was designed as a kind of weapon. One that did not harm, but one that restored our enemy, banishing the evil from their hearts. The Valalumir itself was the cure.” His green eyes blazed now, full of determination, his hand taking mine. “It was created for this very purpose.”
“By the Gods,” I said.
Auriel nodded. “But the akadim immediately recognized how powerful it was, and tried to steal it. See, they had been corrupted, but they weren’t interested in returning to goodness, only in increasing their power. Their souls twisted until only their base needs remained. Hunger. Lust. Violence. They had no interest in returning to their former states. They made a plan and nearly stole the light from Heaven. Once that happened, we were summoned. The light was taken to the Hall of Records. The Guardians were selected to watch it. And the akadim were banished to Earth.”
“And then no one else was allowed to go down there,” I said.
“No. No one else. Until us. Untilwehappened. We were chosen to guard the light, to spend eternity protecting it, never to fall in love, never to take our attention from it. But … well you know how that ended. We tried for a long time to ignore it, to ignore our feelings. But love won over duty in the end. I couldn’t stay away from you—it didn’t matter what oath I’d sworn. And we were caught, and you were banished.” Auriel’s voice cracked, the pain of Asherah’s fall still affecting him. “I watched you from above. I watched mortality make you ill. And I watched you recover your strength. You did the impossible. You renewed your purpose and continued to fight—leading the charge and diving into the battle against the darkness. You were so brave, and so strong. But so was the enemy. And I couldn’t stay away. Not from you. And not from the true purpose we’d served. The light. It was never meant to be locked away or hidden. Kept from those it could help. Those it could heal. The Valalumir was always meant to save akadim. So we did what we had to.”
“Wait.” My eyes widened. “Are you saying—Auriel, are you saying we fell on purpose?”
But the truth of it was already in my heart. Yes, we’d been betrayed. But we’d also allowed it to happen. Had been willing torisk eternity to do so. We’d risked everything to be together, and then risked that to save who we could.
“We did.” Auriel shuddered, exhaling. “We did. We were brought before the Council to be punished. But they banished you, only you.” He blew air out of his nose. “See, they understood how to actually hurt us. By keeping us apart. I begged them. I beseeched them on your behalf. On everyone’s. But they denied me. So I had no choice. I waited as long as I could for the right moment. I watched over you, and when the time had come, I stole the light, and I fell. For you. And for the world. For every soul that had been lost. To show the Council they had been wrong to lock it away. That they were wrong to let humans suffer for their own cowardice.”
I could barely breathe. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it thrumming in my ears. “Then what happened?”
“The light couldn’t handle the atmosphere. Couldn’t sustain itself in the material realm. It turned into a crystal. And I panicked. I only managed to save one sliver of light. Yours.” He reached for my heart, his palm gently resting above my breast. “I placed it inside you.”
I rested my hand beside his, feeling my heart beat. Feeling the ghost of another heart. Another life. The same light pulsing inside it.
“I made a mistake,” he said. “And I’ve been paying for that mistake for a thousand years. What I did fractured the Red Ray. The part of the Valalumir that held the power to call their souls back. I separated it from the part that could heal the body.”
“You said the other night that I was meant to heal. That’s what the Red Ray does.”
Auriel nodded. “I did. And youaremeant to heal. Heal the world. But I made the work harder for you—for everyone. Every day we went into battle together, and we fought, and everychance you had, you would use your strength, and you would use the Valalumir, and the light you carried inside to heal akadim.”
“How?” I asked.
“With the Valalumir itself,” he said. “After the Drowning though, when it shattered into seven pieces, that was when we learned it was the red shard that was most important. But it had weakened. When the light was whole, it could heal hundreds at a time. It restored thousands of souls. Anyone could wield it. But when it fractured and became crystal, and the light became part of you, it made you part of it. You became the only one. You became the fire.”You’re the fire.
“And if I had the red shard now?” I asked. “Could I heal the akadim? Could I heal Rhyan?”
“Yes,” Auriel said. “You could.” “Do you know where it is?” I asked.
Auriel nodded. “I do.”
I started to stand—ready to go get it this second. Wherever it was. I didn’t care.
But Auriel held my hand, and I sat back down.
“It’s not that simple. I gave it away. Before I died. For its protection.” He sighed. “After I buried Asherah, I knew Mercurial had betrayed me.” He stood and walked over to the small table, picking up Asherah’s chest plate, staring intently at the linked Valalumir stars made of gold. In the center of each star was a diamond mixed with blood inside, giving it the appearance of starfire. It was my blood—Asherah’s and Auriel’s.
“No one should have been able to open your tomb,” he said, his voice shaking. “Tombs were never meant to be opened.” He shook his head, his eyes on me now, green and full of fire. “But more importantly, you were guarding the indigo shard—even in death. I was positive when I’d constructed the tomb that no one could unlock it. I expected that my soul would reincarnate. Butno one would have a drop of my blood. Nor would they have the key.”
“Except Mercurial,” I said.
“Except Mercurial. Because he stole this.” Auriel held the chest plate up, then cradled it to his heart, his eyes sad and wistful. “Every precaution I took was to prevent this day from coming. To stop what I’d foreseen. I didn’t know when. I didn’t know how long it would take. But I knew one day, Moriel would return. I knew his soul would reincarnate, and he would remember. And when he did, I knew he’d allow nothing to come between him and the indigo shard.”
“That was my fault,” I said. “We opened the tomb. We thought the red shard was inside.”
“I know you did. I know,” he said quietly. “That was also because of me. When I left the North, I knew I needed to find another way to protect the red shard. Your shard—the most precious to me of all. Tombs could be opened. Items stolen. I wouldn’t bury it with me. My only other option to guarantee its safety was to hide it somewhere, and with someone who would never die. Someone strong. Someone who would never ever hand it over to anyone else—whether they asked, begged, pleaded, or bargained. Even if they were an incarnation of my soul in the future.”
“Who?” I asked. “Who would agree to such a thing?”
“The Queen of Khemet. Queen Ma’Nia.”
“The Afeyan Queen? The Queen of the Moon Court?” I asked.
