The morning of the fall equinox, the priestesses came to dress Liane. Before she stepped into the water and sealed her power, the Avatheos wanted to parade her around the city. It would inspire the faith of the people. They put on her ceremonial robe and headpiece, and she stood passively as they worked. There was no fight left in her but for one thing. If her power was to be stripped from her, she wanted the people to know the truth. As they dressed her, she ran through the plan in her head. They wouldn’t return her sword to her until it was absolutely necessary. Before her procession through the city, she’d address the crowd on the temple steps, and she’d tell them the whole truth—The church was hoarding magic, to the continent’s detriment, and she was going to seal her power to save them from the destructive tide of dark magic.
Either the people would rise up against the church and join her side, or the church would turn against her to silence her. It was a reckless plan, but there was no Ludwig or Luzie here to talk her out of it.
They passed through the halls of the temple and made their way to the outer ring. And then up the stairs to the balcony, where she would look down on the people of Basilia and address them before her procession. Her stomach was twisted up in knots, but she kept moving forward. The guards were outside the door that led to the balcony, and they opened it to let her through. A priest was waiting in the outer ring with the Avatheos, the sword in their hands.
The sun was high in the sky, and it nearly blinded her. Liane raised her hand to block it out.
This was the moment where she either rose to the occasion or failed spectacularly. And maybe this was the destiny she’d been designed for. Not all heroes had to fight epic battles or topple nations. Sometimes it took one person brave enough to stand and face evil. She wished Erich were here. She held the memory of him tight and took a deep breath before she stepped out onto the balcony. The sun warmed her face, and the crowd down below roared with approval. Their excitement and energy gave her courage and hope for a brighter future.
The priest holding the sword handed it to her. Liane’s hands were slick with sweat as she reached for the sword. And she tightened her grip upon the hilt. Its weight felt right in her hands, and for a moment, she thought she heard the beating of wings in her ears, as if the raven were there with her.
The Avatheos addressed the crowd. “On this day of balance, we thank Cyra for her avatar, who will conquer darkness as the wielder of her holy blade.”
He grasped hold of her wrist, a show of power and dominance, but rather than let him make her small, Liane stepped in front of him and raised the blade to the sky. A burst of light came from her and the sword.
“People of Basilia, I have drawn the Golden Blade. The goddess has given me a divine mission, one that will heal this empire,” she cried.
They roared back at her, and she waited for it to die down before continuing, “And I am here to tell you the church has lied to you. Magic is not dying, but has been systematically destroyed by the very church that swore they were protecting it.”
There was a shout, and a confused murmurer moved through the crowd. The Avatheos tried to pull the sword from her hand, but she turned and pointed the blade at his neck. His throat bobbed.
“You are not worthy enough to touch me,” she snarled, infusing all her power into her voice.
The Midnight Guard were hovering just out of sight of the crowd, poised to disarm her. But she felt the pulse of magic coursing through her and knew that if they tried, she would cut them down as if they were stalks of wheat. The Avatheos signaled for them to stand down, and all of them inched backward.
Then she turned to face the crowd once more.
“They are stealing your children, your family, your loved ones, and sealing their power so that it is under the church’s control. But it ends with me. It ends now. Today, I will enter the source of magic and seal all magic to prevent the rise of a greater evil. And though I will sacrifice my power, it is you who must fight to break down the bricks of your oppressors and free the empire.”
The words hung in the air, and Liane felt the threads of magic that carried her voice, and stopped the Avatheos from approaching her, begging to wear thin as the light around her began to dim. Pain bloomed behind her eyes and traveled down her back. She’d given it all for this moment, and she hoped it was enough.
A slow ripple moved through the crowd, a buzz of conversation that built into an unintelligible shout. Either they’d sensed the wrongness about the church, or they despised her for her blasphemy. Regardless, she’d thrown a match on kindling, and it had caught. The crowd rushed the guards at the foot of her balcony, pushing their way in. Panic ceased as she watched the chaos unfold. Scuffles were breaking out.
Liane threw her head back and laughed. Whether she was remembered as a saint or a devil, at least she had done something. She’d exhausted her power, and she collapsed onto her knees as the light faded for good. The Avatheos marched toward her and grasped hold of her neck and squeezed.
“I will delight in sealing your power. Why Cyra chose an insolent worm like you, I’ll never understand. This display of yours will do nothing; you’ve sullied your reputation for nothing.”
“Perhaps, but I’d rather be known as a heretic than a coward.”
He squeezed harder as she clawed at his wrist, trying to break free. The edges of her vision were growing dark, and her grip on the blade was slipping. When suddenly he let go.
Liane gasped for air, and when she looked up, she was shocked to see Erich alive, straddling the Avatheos as he punched his face repeatedly.
“Erich?” she croaked, half crawling to reach him.
He turned from the Avatheos and strode toward her.
He cupped her face. “I told you I would never leave you.”
Tears burned the back of her eyes, but there wasn’t time for a tearful reunion when the Avatheos was getting back to his feet and raising one of the fallen Midnight Guard’s swords over his head.
Liane screamed and held up her hand, shooting a burst of light from her palm, which knocked the sword from the Avatheos’ grip. The Avatheos’ hood had fallen back, and he stared dumbfounded at his empty hand, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Ludwig rushed onto the balcony, his face splattered with blood.
And Liane started to cry. By some miracle, they’d both survived, and they’d come to save her. Erich stalked over to the Avatheos and lifted him off the ground by his neck. The Avatheos grabbed onto Erich’s wrist as his feet kicked in the air.
“Your tyranny ends here,” Erich said, before tossing him over the balcony.
Down below, someone screamed. She didn’t want to see it. But she knew she had to confirm with her own eyes. She peered over the side and saw the spreading stain of blood on the marble floor; his limbs were turned at odd angles, and his skull fractured beyond repair. He was dead. The Avatheos was dead.
