“I could do no such thing,” Auriel said. “Not when it comes to you. Lyriana, that’s not why you, why Asherah, first came here a millennia ago. And it’s not why you came here again, why you came this time as Lyriana,” he said, his voice gentle. “This is not who you are. This is not the work of the soul I have known for an eternity. You were not meant to destroy.” His eyes blazed. “Asherah, you were meant to heal.”
My blood heated. I was so Godsdamned sick of being called Asherah. Of having to put my life aside for the one she had lived. Of having to be here now with her love, her soulmate. And not mine.
“I am not Asherah!” I yelled. “Not anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time. Do you hear me? I’ve changed. We all have. So who the hell are you to tell me what I was or wasn’t meant for? You don’t fucking know me!”
“I do.”
“You don’t?—”
“I DO!” he roared, his face reddening. “You seem to think that just because you’re not currently Asherah that it doesn’t make you her. Did you forget that her soul and her light are connected to and bound to your body? That those are the essences from which you were born? That your fate is connected? She is informing your heart, and your mind. She is your soul, and she is influencing, in every second and every way, the very being who calls herself Lyriana! You think that me being here now, isn’t proof of that? Isn’t proof to you that Rhyan isn’t completely gone either? That he’s not completely lost? That the part of him that was made from me still survives because I do?”
“Part of him? Part of him! A part of him isn’t enough. A soul isn’t enough!” My hands fisted, punching my knees. “Neither is an incarnation. Or you! Just him. Him! And he’s not here,” I cried. “He didn’t survive. I can’t touch him. Smell him. Kiss him.” My voice cracked. “I’ll never hug him again. Hold him. Be held.” I shook my head. “And I’ll never talk to him! Never see him smile, or hearhislaugh. I’m not going to see him heal and grow and live his life. I’ll never get to see what he might have become.” This feeling that had begun to grow in my chest, intensified. More painful than a tightening. Sharper than the shards slicing. My heart was tearing itself into pieces, ripping apart bit by bit. “I don’t care if you’re connected. I don’t! Becauseyou are not a replacement for him. And you never will be! Not for me. Not ever! I don’t want you.”
“Well, you’re no replacement for her either!” Auriel yelled. “But I still came here. I came here foryou, Lyriana!”
“Why?” I cried. “Why would you do that?”
“Because, you called out to me. Because I heard you, heard your cries. Your distress. I heard them from worlds away. From another time. And when I sensed your despair, I didn’t hesitate to act. To risk everything. Because I felt your pain, too. I felt your heart breaking like it was my own.” He slammed a fist to his heart, his voice shaking. “I don’t know how I did it. Because it shouldn’t have been possible. But I did. My heart broke. For you. So I came. Somehow, I traveled through a dozen celestial realms. I broke the laws of time and space to reach you. To stop you from ending it all. Because of you—just you—I did the impossible. I took on my body again. Pushed my way through Heaven and Earth, just to stop you. To help you. To be here with you. Again.”
I gritted my teeth. “Gods. You sound just like him.” I pulled my knees into my chest, burying my head against them. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Fuck. I can’t … I can’t do this. I can’t be near you. I can’t talk to you, or listen to you.” I was barely getting the words out, I was choking on them, crying out every syllable. “Every second is a reminder that he’s not here. Every second is a reminder that I failed him. I failed him in the worst possible way! I swore to him I wouldn’t, but I did. I lost him. I wasn’t strong enough. And he suffered because of it. Because of me. And now he’s gone. And it’s my fault. And nothing I can do will fix it, nothing will bring him back,” I sobbed.
Even before tonight. I’d dragged him into this. Into going after Jules. Into making a deal with his father. Into working with him. Playing the game until the very end.
I’d killed him. And there it was again—the panic, my chest collapsing in on itself, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. And itwasn’t just my heart ripping apart that would kill me this time, or the way my lungs had forgotten how to work. I felt like the walls of the cave were going to close in on me. Crush me. Suffocate me.
I needed Rhyan. I needed Rhyan.
“Lyriana, listen to me, and listen carefully. I see where your mind is going. And I know, because mine has done the same in the past. You need to stop. Right now. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do this to him,” Auriel said. “None of what happened last night was your fault. Nor anything that happened before. My memories are hazy, but this I remember. I saw it all. I saw what it was like between you two. I saw what happened in the arena. And I swear to you, I know you did everything you could, I know you pushed yourself beyond your limits. And, I know he knows that, too. I promise.”
“But I didn’t. I didn’t. I could have made better choices. I could have been faster. I could have?—”
“He remembered,” Auriel said, suddenly looking distant. “He’s been so connected to me these last few months—more than any of my other incarnations. After he learned the truth of who he was, it was like a bridge opened between us. He remembered the pain. Our pain. My pain. What it was like to lose you. To lose Asherah. Even after all of this time, it doesn’t go away. The memories. The hurt. They … leave a scar on your soul. And you were in danger, so he did what he had to do to save you. To stop the threat. If you could talk to him now, he would tell you the same thing. He would tell you he’d save you again, knowing the outcome, knowing what would happen—he’d still do it. Still save you. Every single time. If he could, he’d tell you he has no regrets.”
“But he can’t tell me. Not anymore. He’s …” Not alive. Not dead either. “He’s …” My throat dried, my hands shaking. “He’s akadim,” I said, finally looking up. The word was like acid in mymouth, every syllable burned as I said it. I could taste it, feel it crawling over my tongue. I wanted to vomit.Akadim. Akadim.“He is. Isn’t he? I saw it happen. Saw his soul being eaten.” A weight settled over me, crushing me. “Surely, by now the transformation’s complete.”
The muscles in Auriel’s jaw flexed. “He is.”
More tears fell. “How long?” I asked. “How long has he been akadim? How long have I been asleep?”
Auriel coughed. “It’s been a few hours. I think that … the shock of seeing me didn’t help. And you had overused your magic, yourRakashonim.It made you pass out. It was too much. The magic is delicate, but volatile on its own. And it had been called on too many times. You had no more power in you by then, no energy left. After I reached you, you simply fell over.”
“I hardly have any energy now.” I barely even felt like I could stand. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t … don’t care. I wish I’d gone with him,” I said, my voice a whisper.
“No,” Auriel said. “No, you don’t. And don’t you ever say that again. However much you love him, he loves you more. I would know. I felt it. I still feel it.” He pressed a fist to his heart. “He wouldn’t want that for you. Everything he did, every choice Rhyan made in his life was to protect you. You must believe me.” His eyes fell to my hands again. “Now enough of this. Fight me if you have to. Insult me. Hit me. I don’t care. But I’m not sitting idly by and watching you bleed. Whether you like it or not, I’m cleaning up your hand.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling so fucking weak. I wanted to fight, and yet, there was no more fight inside of me. “Do what you will to me,” I said. “I don’t care.”
“Well, luckily for you, I do. Don’t move.”
I lifted my head higher, numbness seeping through me, as Auriel held his cloak out of the cave, letting it collect rain. Thunder clapped in the distance. Lightning illuminated his bodyfrom behind. His hair seemed like it had curled even more from the humidity—just like Rhyan’s did.
When he decided that his cloak was sufficiently wet, he returned to me, kneeling at my feet, and gently washed the blood from my knuckles before going into his belt and miraculously pulling out a sunleaf. He popped it into his mouth, chewing until it was paste—his eyes on mine the whole time, as if daring me to rebel, challenging me to refuse him.
Then he spat out the leaf, now cured, into his palm, and gently rubbed it onto my skin.
I’d barely been aware of the sting, of the pain, even as he washed my skin. But the relief I felt was instantly palpable.
I stared at the floor, at the blanket he’d scrounged up, and at the small piece of cloth he’d ripped from this cloak to bandage my hand. When he was done, he sat across from me, his back to the wall. A long silence passed between us. Our breaths mingled with the sound of the rain, the crackling of the fires, and tinkle of water dripping into the cave.
