But would it be wise to just walk around the park by herself? Wouldn’t that be exceedingly suspicious?
“I’ll escort you if you like.”
That offer again. Another chance to see him. To talk to him. She knew she should say no, but the next words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “I’d love that.”
“And I’ll bring our secret weapon,” he said as he opened the carriage door for her, and she stepped in.
“I’ll see you in a few days then.” Aristea nodded and closed the door. She couldn’t help but peek out the window one more time as they drove away. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies.
She was going to see him again, soon.
17
Back home, Liane had loved discovering hidden passages and forgotten corners of the ancient structures. She’d enjoyed unraveling a mystery. But rather than examine what Erich had told her, she spent her days exploring the temple grounds—the halls, towers, and sanctuaries—three times, seeking distraction from her storm cloud of thoughts. Could she trust the Avatheos’ intentions? The best way to get answers would be to ask the Avatheos himself. But during their increasingly frequent meetings, he’d evaded her questions until he started snapping at her to study the text and meditate to better understand Cyra’s will. Liane tried to accept the church’s truth. But her doubts were piling up.
Those questions drove her to the library, where she pulled down a multitude of books. They kept records of almost everything. They charted the stars’ movements, deaths, and births of the nobility and royal family, but records of the past lives of priests and priestesses were murky at best. Oracles’ prophecies were almost never recorded, but in a few cases, she found old journals belonging to priests long dead. If the Avatheos had seen a dire prophecy for the kingdom, surely, he must have told someone. Or recorded it somewhere. Or someone else had seen as he had. But she could find no evidence of it. That didn’t necessarily mean he was lying, but it didn’t prove his intentions either.
After days of fruitless search, she was back in the library again. Words were swirling around in her mind, and she wondered if she’d ever be without questions lingering at the back of her mind. There were only three archivists working, while dozens of other desks lay empty. The archivists recorded all the portent star movements and sent out messages to the regional dukes and vice premiers with instructions or warnings. The ceilings were high and vaulted, and the bookcases that lined the room reached from floor to ceiling. Ladders leaned against them, and a few late-night working priests pushed carts, returning tomes to their places on the shelves.
She strolled along the aisles, and the familiar scent of ink and paper comforted her. Liane ran her hands down the spines, surveying titles. They were mostly theological texts debating the intricacies of religious dogma—the types of books the goddess’ chosen should gravitate toward. But she was sure that if she even attempted to read them, she’d be snoring in minutes. She turned a corner and found an aisle of books with dates printed on the spines. When she pulled down a book at random, she discovered it was a history of Neolyra from a few years after the Corruption.
So much had been lost after the Corruption, but perhaps not everything. The Nameless had caused it, and according to the Avatheos, she was trying again. But maybe it hadn’t been the first time. And if that were true, there’d be some record of it, surely. Perhaps there even were other avatars before her who’d fought back the darkness. Maybe that would assure her the Avatheos wasn’t using her, that she was destined for something greater and not a pawn in a political game. Liane went to the desk where an archivist was scribbling on a piece of paper. They looked up as she approached.
“Are there any books I might read on past avatars?” Liane asked.
The archivist paused a moment. “I can look. But I’m not sure I’ve heard of another one before you?”
“Nothing? What about the rise of the Nameless?” she asked.
They frowned at her and said, “Why would you want to read about that?”
It would be blasphemous to say she wanted to prove the Avatheos’ prophecy was true and not an elaborate manipulation meant to entrap her. Plus, she doubted there were books like that. “What about books on Neolyra’s history?”
They sighed. “What era?”
“All of them since the Corruption?” she asked, tone rising with uncertainty.
“Take a seat, and I’ll bring you what I have.” They waved her away impatiently.
Liane thanked them and wandered over to sit down at one of the desks. The last rays of light from the day were falling through the window, and she had a view of the city beyond. Golden-red light warmed her skin and made her back tingle pleasantly.
A few minutes after she’d sat down, three priests and an acolyte brought over towering stacks of books. They set them down on the table around her with loud thumps. She looked up at them all realizing what a daunting task she’d set out to accomplish. But she needed to prove to herself that Erich was wrong. She picked up a book at random and started reading, but it quickly became apparent that this book was a dry account of wars fought and won after the Corruption. There was nothing about the church. No problem. She skimmed over the titles, searching for books that mentioned the church’s history. She pulled out three more books from the stack, only to be met with the same problem. None of the books gave an unbiased history, but were rather full of theological allegory—the same stories she’d been hearing her entire life.
She sighed and closed the last book, setting it atop her teetering pile of rejects. She was ready to give up when she noticed a book at the bottom of the pile. It was titled Lyra: Before the Creation of Neolyra and the History of the Ancients. It was much older than the others, and the author’s name had nearly faded away.
Touching the book gave her pause. It sent a jolt up her arm. On the cover were illustrations of the two-toned stag and the black raven she’d seen in her visions. She remembered a similar book she’d read back in Artria and was immediately intrigued.
She cracked it open, and the pages were brittle. This didn’t seem like the sort of book she should be reading. It felt more like a book that should be locked in some scholar’s private study and only looked at and never touched.
She glanced around the room at the archivists who’d delivered the books and saw they were preoccupied. She was turning the pages when she saw a page with a golden sword crossed with a black blade.
Two swords for two sisters. Divided, they fight. Together, they strike. Liane frowned.
She turned the page, expecting to find more, but instead discovered a drawing of Cyra standing in front of the blazing sun, a black raven on her shoulder. On the next page was a woman veiled in black, her pose the mirror of Cyra’s, and coiled around her shoulders was a white dragon.
Liane’s fingers traced over the dragon.
She flipped a few more pages. The dragonborn, beloved of the Moon Goddess’ and protector of her temples. She recoiled. Then the Avatheos was right. Erich was an agent of the darkness, just like the elves...
