“All right,” Irie said. “All right, I… understand. Iya is a problem that has been plaguing us for longer than you have been alive. We’re determined that his next defeat be his final one, no matter the cost. But we must respect that, for you, the cost is too high.”
“The cost would be too high foranyone. Being the Empyrean sounds like a losing game,” Elara pointed out. “You named Faron your Empyrean, and she went to war for you. Now you want her dead. Your first Empyrean was corrupted by a creature that you sent him to battle against. Then you locked him up for centuries. I’m sorry, but that’s… that’sawful. That’s not the Irie I was raised to worship.”
Irie’s lips thinned. “The goddess you worship is a sanitized version of me, invented by devotees who need to believe in ultimate good and ultimate evil. There are gray areas.”
“Doesn’t that mean that Iya should have a gray area, too? If yours ismurder.”
“His gray area,” Mala said, “is his love for your sister.”
For the second time, Elara froze. “His… his what?”
“His incarnation, Reeve Warwick, is in love with your sister. Even though Iya wears his face now, he still feels that love because their souls are now intertwined,” Mala explained. “He’s keepingher from us in the hopes that he can turn her to his side. That is why we said you might have to kill her.”
Elara frowned. “Faron would never join up with him.”
“They are connected,” Irie said, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “That’s all we’re trying to say. Whether she realizes it or not, whether you accept it or not, they were able to bond because their souls are made of the same celestial material. At this point, she will either save him or he will damn her. And it’s too soon to tell which it will be.”
“Faron,” Elara repeated. “Would. Never.”
Elara knew her sister better than anyone—even the goddess who had created her world. Irie didn’t know Faron. She didn’t know Faron’sheart. But Elara did.
“Make me your next Empyrean,” she said. “I won’t kill her, but I know I can help her. I’ll save her if I have to. If what you say is true, I’m the only one who can.”
Irie said nothing, but her gaze turned thoughtful. “The decision to become the Empyrean is not one to be made lightly. Your sister was very young when she made the choice, and she has resented us for it ever since. It is not, as she thought, a one and done. If your world is threatened again, you must rise to meet it.”
“I’m eighteen years old. That makes me an adult on my island. I’m doing this first and foremost for my sister, but… it was my dream to join the Sky Battalion. To defend San Irie whenever war came to our shores. That wasn’t a decision I made lightly, and neither is this.”
A pleased expression flashed across the goddess’s face, but then it melted into a more wistful one. “You sound so much like she did back then. The two of you…” Irie placed a warm hand on Elara’sshoulder and squeezed gently. “Words cannot express how sorry I am.”
Sorry about what?Elara wanted to ask, but found she couldn’t speak. Irie’s hand had gone from warm to blazing hot, the fire cutting through Elara’s body until she couldn’t do anything but scream. Her throat ached by the time the pain faded. She was still in the sunroom, Irie, Mala, and Obie standing in a line before her. All three of them were smiling as Elara fought to catch her breath.
“Hello, Childe Empyrean,” Mala said, sticking out a hand.
Elara took it, her entire body shaking. “No. My sister was the Childe Empyrean. She’s no longer a child, and neither am I.”
“Maiden?” Irie suggested.
“The Maiden Empyrean,” Elara echoed, loving the feel of the words on her tongue. The sound of her new title seemed to quell her trembles, her strength returning all at once. She felt determination pulsing through her blood as she smiled at the gods. “Thank you. Now, please… Lend me your power, and let me show you what I can do.”
CHAPTER FORTY
FARON
FARON FOUNDIYA IN THE THRONE ROOM THIS TIME, SITTING IN THEqueen’s chair.
It was carved to look as if he were cradled by fire, scarlet and gold wound together into arcs of flame that stretched toward the sky. But Iya sat on the throne as if it were nothing more than a fancy stool rather than the symbol of a nation. He had one leg thrown over an arm, his chin propped up on one hand so he could watch her lazily as she approached. At some point, he had partially shed his military jacket. A white button-down was revealed while the jacket sat across his shoulders like a cape of shadows.
“I remember it, you know,” he said idly. “The time when I was like you. Chosen. Gifted. Beloved. I was a Knight of the Empire, yes, but I prayed for the power to stop the dragon terrorizing my home. And, like you, the gods answered my prayers. I became the first Empyrean.”
Faron stopped in the middle of the room. “What?”
Iya’s mouth tipped into a cruel smile, but the words continued to flow as if he needed someone, needed her, to hear them. “Did they not mention that, either? I was not merely the first dragonRider, and you were never their first champion. That was me. All I wanted was to protect my home. But Lightbringer showed me the truth the gods had kept hidden from me. I didn’t have to listen to them. They wanted to use me as a tool while keeping me from reaching my true power. Together, Lightbringer and I became Iya. Together, I tasted that power, if only for a while. And now that I’m free, I am so very loath to give it up.”
“Gael,” she said, hoping what was left of that boy could hear her. “Gael, you were a Knight of the Empire. That means you wanted to help people, right? But look at you now. All you’ve ever done with your incredible power is subjugate others. Power like this… It should be used to make the world better.”
“Oh?” Iya shifted in the chair so that both feet were on the floor. “And how have you made the world better since the war ended, Faron?”
“That’s not—” Faron began before the words caught in her throat.
