I reached the front of the tomb, standing between the gryphon’s massive front claws, and stared up at its taut muscles, leading to a neck without a head.
Auriel joined me a moment later, his face drawn as he looked up at the statue he’d created. At the place he’d chosen to make his final resting place a thousand years ago.
I placed my hand on Auriel’s shoulder. He startled, as if he’d fallen into a trance. Then he shook his head, like he was attempting to clear his mind. “I didn’t recognize it at first. When I had you—” he looked away, embarrassed. “When I had you pressed against it.”
“Too dazzled by my beauty?” I teased, trying to keep things light.
He chuckled. “I was. But, also in my defense it was dark and raining for the most part. I can feel it now. I feel this void, the absence of where my soul once dwelt. I didn’t feel it before, everything was too muddled.”
“You can feel that now?” I asked. “The void?”
Auriel nodded. “I would have known immediately if I felt it that first night.” He coughed uncomfortably. “But also, and perhaps most importantly, I wasn’t expecting the gryphon to be headless.” His eyebrows lifted. “The tomb was made to be indestructible. Of course, leave it to you, the newest one, to rip its head off.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. My hand slid down his arm, taking his hand in mine again.
“I carved this myself, you know. It took days.” He turned to me, one side of his lips lifting into a chagrined smile. “I really should be keeping a list of the ways you’ve offended me,Meka.”
“Auriel, you know I didn’t mean to?—”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about it.” He leaned in closer, our foreheads almost touching again. “I have an eternity to get back at you.” He winked. Then he stepped back, surveying the tomb, and holding up his hand above his eyes, blocking the sun. “And truth be told, you did us both a favor.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, you’ve already taken care of step one. Removing the head.”
“Removing the head?”
Auriel nodded. “Very few could have done it. I’m not sure if I would have had the strength in the end.” His eyes dipped to my chest. “But you did. The head is what sealed it together, kept the tomb from ever being opened.” He swallowed. “On Asherah’s tomb,” his voice cracked, “I left the keyhole exposed. That was a mistake. So I did things differently the second time. Though I must say, you seem to have a real talent for breaking into impenetrable tombs.”
“Well everyone needs a hobby.”
Auriel chuckled, but I could see beneath the surface what this was—a distraction. He was struggling, trying to build his own courage. It might have been a thousand years since the construction of the Guardian—since his death. He might have been in the Celestial Realms with his immortal body for a thousand years, spending all of his eternity with Asherah. But he was alive once. Mortal. And attached to this life. To this earth. This land. This was hard for him.
And for me. No amount of time would heal the wound. The forced separation of death. Even if we were successful with this, with the Moon Queen, with Rhyan—I wasn’t sure if anything would fully heal me. Losing him. Watching him die.
My stomach was starting to twist. A new sensation washing over me. I hadn’t been here when Auriel came to his final rest. I’d died first.
But suddenly, that no longer mattered. A memory washed over me. Quick, and bright. Like a flash of light.
“You were crying,” I said, though I hadn’t planned to say it out loud. “You thought you’d failed me. That you failed the cause. But you didn’t. You never did. Not once. Not in my eyes,Rakame.”
Auriel stilled, his eyes watering. “Asherah?”
I stepped back, suddenly shaky. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I don’t know—” I’d felt that line blur before. Brief moments, where I wasn’t sure if I was her or myself.
A shadow crossed the sky. A seraphim.
Fuck. We were out of time.
“Auriel! We need to open it. Now!”
A sharp, salt-filled breeze blew icily against my back, and the water began to rush at my heels. The waves were growing higher, moving faster. Like a storm was coming. Another seraphim flew overhead.
“Can you give me light?” he asked. “The lines are faint after all this time, and difficult to see. My fault—I made it that way.”
I reached for the leather scabbard at my hip, and removed the stave inside, fully aware of how Auriel’s eyes tracked it— how they darkened. It was Asherah’s stave, and I knew he recognized it. Just as he’d recognized her chest plate. “Ani petrova vala.”
I leaned in, our shoulders touching. And right where the head had come off, there were a series of words in High Lumerian carved into the onyx, much as there had been on Asherah’s seraphim.
