“And some, back then,” the Queen added, “lived centuries. So to stop the cycle, and save more from falling, from suffering through an eternity of this fate, Canturiel created the light. And it healed them, restored their souls. Granted what they most wanted. To be whole.”
I nodded, desperate for the Queen to continue.
“But some of them did not wish to go back to the way things were. Some disagreed with the rulings of the Council. Some were simply drunk on their power. Others had simply fallen too far. Become too corrupt and monstrous to seek redemption, to even desire it. And so they tried to steal the light. To prevent it from taking any more of their army. The light remained untouched, unused for years, sitting under your watchful eye. And Auriel’s. Until the day it wasn’t— until you both were banished, the light stolen, the light no longer unbroken. You tried to continue with the original mission as Asherah. You didn’t want to kill. You didn’t want to further trap souls in the cycle of reincarnation. So you used the cure. Auriel would fight in battle, as would you, but your main mission was to use the Valalumir to heal as many akadim as you could.”
I gasped. “I was healing them in the war. Restoring their souls?”
The Queen nodded. “It was honorable work you did. I will not deny that. You saved many. Restored families, lovers, mothers and fathers. But the work is difficult and slow. And without its strongest warrior in battle—you—in the end, you were losing the war. Losing too many of your kind. When you should have killed, you tried to save. Many defected, many saw the lost cause for what it was. So, in the final battle before the Drowning, we refused to fight with you—because we could see the outcome. See the loss you refused to acknowledge. We could not promise you our people, nor send them off into what we believed to be a massacre. We honored life. Not death. Our intention was to protect those who’d sought safety with us. Seeking refuge in our lands, our kingdoms. And still, Auriel cursed us for this. Cursed us for trying to save lives.”
She pointed at the pool, at the image in the water of me and Auriel together. With a wave of her hand, the pool rippled,distorting our image, and something resembling a ghost of Auriel rose above the water.
He was furious, his face red. He wore his armor, and there were open cuts and bruises along his muscled arms. Mud coated his boots.
“I curse you,” the ghost Auriel yelled in High Lumerian. “I curse you to immortality. To an eternity of remembering what you did, and of facing its consequences. You will live forever. Until you step foot once more on dry Lumerian land. And as you can see, that will never ever happen. You did not honor our agreement, you did not answer our call, or come when asked, though you swore to do so. Therefore, you will never do anything again without first being asked. Without permission. Your magic that you used so freely is now only yours by request. You’ll be forced to serve others, to answer their calls, to honor your agreements, your bargains. You have an eternity now to answer the call of others in need—your fate for your refusal to answer mine.”
The ghost of Auriel faded, and his likeness returned to the pool, along with mine.
“That’s why you asked him to destroy any mention of the cure?” I asked. “Because we’d lost in battle while using it.”
The Queen nodded. “And now, I fear you’re going to do the same thing as before. Damn us further. Mercurial may wish for you to have the shard returned to you for his own purposes, and you wish to have it to heal your lover.” Her eyes flicked to Auriel. “That is—your current lover. You are consumed by your desire to restore the soul of Lord Rhyan Hart, Auriel’s current incarnation.”
“I am,” I said.
She waved her hand in dismissal. “And will you heal others?”
“Of course,” I said. “How could I not? The akadim are victims of their circumstances, like Rhyan. There’s not one who wished for this, or asked for this fate.”
“You speak the truth,” she said. “But what I need to know is if you’re strong enough to do both. To heal as you always meant to—to remember the innocence of the souls when weighed against the evils done by their monstrous counterparts. And, I need a further guarantee. You may heal with the shard, restore akadim. But you may not do so at the expense of other lives. Moriel already has his shard, as does his lover Ereshya. And if they acquire more, you and your people are doomed. One more shard between them, one more ally gained, and the world will end.”
I shook my head, and felt Auriel move before me, his body tensed.
“You may save Rhyan’s life. Restore his soul. Heal him. And you may do so for others if given the chance. But akadim breed more akadim. Every akadim you allow to live kills another. Makes another. Eats another soul. The cycle is endless, and completes itself faster than you think. You must stop the threat as you’ve been taught. And whether that is by taking the akadim’s life, or restoring it—you must stop the threat. Do you understand me?”
“I do,” I said. “Of course.” My heart was thundering.
“Your words are quite as pretty as they always were,” the Moon Queen said. “I’ve known your soul a long time. So I know, like Auriel, you keep your word. But you can also be soft-hearted. If Lord Rhyan Hart’s soul cannot be restored, he will prove to be one of the most dangerous, and destructive forces the Empire has ever seen. Worse than the rise of Moriel. A prophecy exists even now. Visions shared by three. He has the power, as do you, to destroy our world. To cover Lumeria in fire. You must not let him. And your feelings for him must not cloud your judgement.”
“They won’t,” I said.
“We shall see.” The Queen clapped. “We shall find out through some play.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“No!” Auriel threw his body in front of mine. “Your Majesty! Don’t do this!”
And from the endless balconies above, Afeya leaned forward, their eyes wide and excited. And completely focused on me.
“You shall pass a test, Lady Lyriana,” the Moon Queen said, sitting back on her throne. She lifted her feet back up to rest.
Ramia’s eyes darted to me, her expression full of fear.
“But you already gave your word to Auriel! And I’ve already made a bargain. Your contract sits inside me.”
“I didn’t say those were my requirements. I warned you. I am doing my part. I have invited you inside for negotiations. Auriel may take back what he gave. But I must first know you’re strong enough to do what must be done. What must ultimately be done if it comes down to it. And the only way to know for sure is through a test.”
“What kind of test?” I asked.
“Before I agreed to bargain with Auriel.” She waved around the throne room, “I made him do the same—prove his word and his worth. He had to survive my playground. You survive now, and I shall trust your word. You survive, and my contract with Auriel shall be fulfilled tonight.”
