Equality through the destruction of all things… Vi certainly didn’t agree with the notion. But as the Champion of Yargen, she wasn’t supposed to. Perhaps, as he said, all she was meant to do was understand it.
They ascended an endless flight of stairs to a ridge. On the other side, a pathway sloped toward the sea. It ended on a plateau where a lone altar stood. Vi glanced behind her at the red-eyed men and women who had followed them to this point.
All these people were willing sacrifices for Raspian.
She wanted to tell them that their lives still meant something. But in their eyes, their greatest purpose was the one they stood ready to fulfill. She could see it in each one of them, how they walked with relaxed faces, as though in a trance. The closer they got to the altar, the more the elfin’ra moved as one unit, breathing together, marching together.
The moon was high as Vi crossed the threshold of the stones that surrounded the altar. At the center was the relief carving of a dragon, curling around on itself to form a perfect circle. A line had been drawn through the middle and cleaved the whole image in two, off-setting the halves. The image was meant to represent Raspian’s dragon breaking free of its lunar prison, ready to reap chaos on the world.
All those assembled moved around the symbol. The formed a second row, then a third. When everyone was in position, five complete circles of elfin’ra stood shoulder to shoulder around the altar.
The head priest positioned himself at the center of the circles, before the altar.
“Bring me the ashes,” he commanded.
Vi opened the box. This was the moment she let go of herself. Yargen had made her body with the intention of its eventual return to the goddess. Fulfilling that intention wouldn’t hurt. Yargen had told her that much.
Bringing the box to her face, Vi tilted her head down and inhaled deeply. The ashes filled her nose, mouth, and eyes. The magic they contained blinded her and burned her from within, singeing every corner of her body. But there was no pain. She felt only warmth, like sinking deeply into a familiar bed, the blankets layered so high, she never wanted to escape.
Her inner organs seared away. Underneath the once-tender flesh was crystal, and more crystal. Just as she had been in Taavin, the crystal was alive in her. It had always been.
Yargen?she thought. Vi’s existence was more inward than outward now.
I am here with you. Iamyou.
Vi coughed and a waterfall of ash cascaded from her mouth and back into the box. Slowly, the world came back into focus. She could see and hear, but her body was fully in Yargen’s control. She thought she’d been ready to fully relinquish control, but being a mere observer in her own skin rattled a corner of Vi’s consciousness that she thought had been long smothered.
“Summon him for me.” Vi felt her mouth form the words, but she did not feel herself say them. Her arms stretched outward, carrying the box forward. Her arms were awash in light, every color swirled atop them, settling into her skin before shifting again. Judging from the reactions on the elfin’ras’ faces, this was not her vision alone. This was her new body—the body of a goddess returned.
Together, Vi thought frantically.
A subtle hum was her reply.
I want to take this final step together. I can help you.
How?Yargen demanded. Vi could feel the rest of the unspoken question. How could a mortal help a divine being?
You have fought him as yourself, time and again. He knows you, Vi insisted.He does not know me. Let me help you end this.
Eternity drifted through her mind as the goddess debated her proposition.Very well, mortal. So it shall be.
The sensation of her body returned to her with tingling waves of magic. In her mind, she stood side-by-side with Yargen. It was not the same control as before; Yargen was not forfeiting out of necessity because her essence was not complete. Yargen wasallowingVi this final act.
“Scatter the ashes on his mark, and we shall begin,” the priest boomed.
The elfin’ra parted so Vi could enter the symbol. She did as instructed, scattering the ashes all around her. She stepped back out of the symbol, discarded the box, and watched as the elfin’ra closed back the circles again, all looking to their high priest.
The head priest raised his arm and drew a dagger from his belt. He sliced himself from forearm to palm. He held his wound over a stone chute that directed his blood into the carving of the split dragon below. The crimson river flowed unnaturally fast down the carved channels, filling in the outlines. As soon as the symbol was drawn in blood, it began to glow a bright red.
He began chanting, words fast and low that Vi barely recognized. She understood them though Yargen’s ears as the language of the gods, but trying to comprehend them with even a fraction of a mortal mind was impossible, so she didn’t try. She was beginning to learn the limitations of her shared space—what she could and couldn’t control, how much Yargen would let her understand and do.
The men and women of the circles raised their arms, joining their voices with their leader’s. The chanting grew louder and louder; some were wailing the words by the end. They threw their heads back in what looked like ecstasy, eyes rolling back.
Dark, ominous clouds rolled in overhead. The wind picked up around them, swirling to this spot, as though there were a void before her, sucking in the air. Vi widened her stance, bracing herself. Even in a place of darkness, her magic connected with the earth. She felt Yargen’s powers grounding her, connecting with the land beneath her feet.
The head priest descended from the dais with a purposeful stride. His face was red from shouting, and his eyes glowed a brilliant vermilion. He stared at her issuing a silent challenge; Vi readied herself, allowing ripples of magic to pulsate from her form.
When the man reached the center of the circled zealots, everything reached a crescendo in a bolt of blood-red lightning.
