Vi looked at the scythe as she took a long sip of the liquid. It was cloyingly sweet and as thick as honey—perhaps it was just honey with herbs and salves swirled within. But there was a distinct medicinal aftertaste that was so bitter on the back of her palette that Vi was glad for the sweetness.
“I wish I knew,” Vi murmured. She was staring at a crystal weapon. A real, complete, legendary crystal weapon. She could feel its power, even now, thrumming quietly. It whispered secrets to her, inviting her to uncover them. Yet it spoke in a language she couldn’t understand. Perhaps Arwin was right and there was some way to change the weapon. There was so much potential waiting to be unlocked, but Vi didn’t even know where to start. “Unfortunately, the only people who may be able to help me are the Faithful.”
Arwin leaned against the wall, an almost lazy, deadly smile playing at her lips. “Suggest going to the Faithful in my presence again and die.”
“Why do you hate them so much?” She’d asked Sarphos. It was time to hear Arwin’s answer… and hope it was something more significant than “because they’re monsters.”
Arwin searched her face as if Vi was hiding the answer to her own question somewhere on it. Finally, “You truly know nothing of the morphi and Meru, do you?”
“I imagine I only know slightly more than you know of the Dark Isle,” Vi lied. She would bet she knew vastly more than Arwin knew of the Dark Isle, thanks to Taavin and Sarphos’s information. But in the grand scheme of things, that was precious little.
“Fair.” Arwin sighed, closing her eyes. When she spoke, it was the first time Vi didn’t feel as though she was being spoken down to, or threatened. “The seeds of the hatred were sown about a thousand years ago, not long after the Great War between the entities they call the Goddess Yargen and the God Raspian.”
“Entities?” Vi interrupted quickly. “So, you don’t think they’re actually divine?” Arwin surprised her with a shrug.
“Don’t know. I’ve never seen them. They must be powerful if all the stories are true… But I could be a powerful goddess to a beetle.” Her eyes drifted to the scythe. “That weapon, however ill designed it is, combined with the tears and the plague—it all makes a compelling argument for these supposed gods’ might. But I don’t know if I could confidently say something is divine when I saw it. So how can I trust someone else’s claims?”
Vi hadn’t considered it that way, and it was almost painful to do so. Some things about her world vision weren’t ready to be challenged. Especially not when so much was already cast in doubt. “Well, that being what it is… you were saying? After this great war and the morphi?”
“Yes, well… Yargen and Raspian are said to have battled countless times—starting different eras of light and dark. After their last row, Yargen won dominion over the world—so the Faithful claim—and was seated in Risen for a time. In the aftermath, the elfin’ra were exiled from Meru and locked away on their island as punishment for their support of Raspian. Much like the morphi, their magic was seen as fundamentally twisted. The race of the draconis were eventually cast off as well… though that didn’t happen for a couple centuries.”
“Did the draconis help Raspian?” Vi had yet to hear of this particular people.
“Some did, some didn’t. Find me a whole race of people who’s entirely good or entirely evil and I’ll eat my boot. But it didn’t matter what theydid. It mattered what peoplesaid. And people say a lot in the years following world-changing events.
“The core of Yargen’s followers, the early Faithful, claim the draconis are descended from Raspian’s great dragon, crafted by the god himself. They also say the morphi are tainted by Raspian as well, since our magic is said to derive from twilight—neither here, nor there—the moment when the sun gives up its hold to the darkness where Raspian thrives.”
“But the twilight could also be the dawn,” Vi contested.
“Thank you!” Arwin threw her hands in the air. “I’m pleased to see you have some sense. Certainly not a Faithful after all.”
“So that’s why you hate the Faithful? Because they have unfairly labeled your people as allies of Raspian?”
“If only that was the extent of it.” A frown lined Arwin’s face. “Around twenty, thirty years ago, the Faithful grew bolder and far more wicked. They were always bad, but they didn’t have the power they have now. They increased their hold on Meru—on Queen Lumeria herself. They justified their actions by saying the word of Yargen had changed, and the people believed them. They were the first ones to say the end of the world was coming and, as a result, they were more active in cleansing those who would seek to aid Raspian.”
“Cleansing?” Vi said the word slowly. It had a horrible taste.
“Their words, not mine. They’ve slaughtered innocent morphi and draconis under false trials in Risen. Really, it was all a display of power. The Lord of the Faithful knows no limits to his cruelty. The draconis don’t leave their island just as the morphi can only exist safely here—that’s why my father carved out this place for us using the royal family’s knowledge of the shift.”
“That’s horrible,” Vi whispered. The potion she held in her hands had been forgotten. No amount of balm could soothe the ache she felt for the people of Meru. “Why does no one stop it?”
“Like I said, their actions supposedly come from the goddess herself. Though I have my suspicions…”
“You don’t think they’re acting on Yargen’s orders?”
“I can’t imagine the goddess being quiet for hundreds of years and then suddenly demanding blood. Can you?” Vi shook her head and Arwin continued. “No, it’s all the depravity of two power-hungry men.”
“Who?” Vi whispered. She didn’t want to hear the answer, because she already knew it.
“Who else? Lord Ulvarth wields the sword, but the one who gives him the orders and the power—the real evil—is the Voice of the Faithful.”
Chapter Fourteen
The real evilis the Voice of the Faithful. The words rattled in her ears, drowning out the buzz of magic from the scythe. The conversation took a blessedly lighter turn as they walked back to Vi’s room, but the weight of earlier revelations was heavy on her mind and shoulders.
“Leave the blade here, we’re going to Sarphos,” Arwin commanded. Vi was too tired to argue.
Leaving the scythe without so much as a lock on her door didn’t feel like enough. But it had been safe and hidden in the Twilight Kingdom for hundreds of years now, so Vi could only trust it would be safe for a few more days.
