“And if I refuse?”
“Refuse a chance of being in the same room with my generals and important people to the Sidhe King? I doubt you would want to miss out on such an opportunity.” His gaze slid to me in challenge. He knew I wished to see him crumble, yet he had no concern about that possibility coming true.
I did not rise to the bait and remained silent.
He led me up higher until we found ourselves in a long hall. Window archways opened one side to the outside, the city on full display below. Torches lined the other wall, which was solid stone. A beautiful array of rich colors painted the rock with images, drawing the eye stronger than even the city and mountain views on the other side. The pictures told a story.
Clause paused at the first image. The painting was of two beings floating above thousands of people, one swathed inblack, the other in white. Both of their faces remained obscured by the shadows of their hoods.
“There were always two Spirits,” Clause said. “One, the Spirit of light. The one everyone thinks of and worships. It is the one that brought us the gifts we typically think of with conjuring. The various effects on elements such as mist.”
Gray eyes drifted to me before turning to look at the floating figure wrapped in darkness. “The other is the Spirit of darkness. It also gifted conjuring, but a different kind. Its gifts spanned the shadow world, not something you can touch, but something still very real. Conjuring in the form of Seers, Dreamers, Telepathy, and Empathomancy came from this spirit.”
Clause took a few steps to the next image, and I followed at his side. The picture portrayed the two Spirits holding blades at each other’s throats. “There was a rift that formed between the two gods. The history books and sacred documents are not clear what it was. But their division was the reason the great war broke out.”
The next image was of people slaughtering each other. Rich red paint coated the base, as if the earth flowed with blood. “Each Spirit tried to squeeze the other’s control out. The Bavadrin’s harbored the most people with the gifts of the Spirit of darkness, and they found themselves surrounded by the conjuring of the Spirit of light, the Lysian and Sidhe strongholds.”
“But I conjure with mist, the gift from the Spirit of light,” I said.
“One does not exclude the other.”
“I am Bavadrin.”
“Your people harbor both gifts, more so than any otherrace,” he stated and nodded for me to move further down the hall.
The image painted mothers holding their dead babies. Fathers mourning the loss of their families, children crying. “The spirit did not make the treaty. At least not alone.”
I looked at him in shock, yet his attention remained on the painful image before us. “The tears and sacrifices of your people formed the treaty.”
“The Bavadrins?”
“Those with the most powerful of conjuring gifts came together. They made a deal with the Spirits for protection. They laid down their lives to put a stop to everything. To protect the lands. Their sacrifice was so profound that the spirits stopped their feud and agreed to a truce.”
“They killed themselves?” I looked at him in shock.
Gray eyes flickered in my direction. “No. They did not simply take their lives. They sacrificed themselves. To protect the unborn, to protect the lands from more death. To protect all people of our world.”
I shook my head, looking at the images lit by flickering flames before me. “Why is this story not told?”
“The Spirit of the light always searched to be seen in a positive view. It controlled the narrative. And the Spirit of the darkness simply stepped back, heartbroken by the pain brought on by their decisions. It allowed itself to disappear from most of the history told in our lands. However, the sacrifices drew together the spell and the so-called curse which would protect the lands for generations remained.”
I turned to him once more. “When I ascended, I saw a Spirit. It wore dark robes.”
“It was a Spirit of darkness.” He answered my question without my having to fully ask it.
“Why not the one of light?”
“The Spirit of light set loose its narrative for history and then left a long time ago. Darkness still lingers, call it sentimental. It also favors those who still possess its gifts. You may conjure mist, but if you saw that Spirit, then you also have a gift from the dark.”
“It doesn’t care that I assumed it to have been the wrong Spirit?”
Clause laughed. “Its mind is of another world. The Spirit does not care for things the way you and I may. It likely could not care less about that.”
The wind picked up, tugging my hair wildly, causing the torchlight to flicker. Though it was not the breeze that sent a chill down my spine, but a thought triggered by a reminder of that time I shared with the Spirit. “When did the Sidhe cross the border for the first time?” I asked, uncertain whether he would answer.
Clause reached out, brushing my hair back over my shoulder and out of my face with the back of his fingertips. As if he wished to see me clearly.
“The day you were born,” he answered.
