“To understand what we will demand of you, you must first understand the ancient truths of how this world came to be…”
CHAPTER44
Lord Krokan spins a tale.Much like the anamnesis that guided me here, the story is not words but an ancient song that paints a picture in my mind that’s so vivid it’s like I’m living every moment—like the memories are my own. However, unlike the wavering anamnesis, Krokan’s hymns are strong and even. Where Lellia’s memories are splintered and faded, Krokan’s are a portrayal that’s as clear as daylight.
The world is young.
All the old gods are present in their might. Even through the eyes of Krokan, the beings are beyond the realm of my comprehension. They are both large and small. Infinite and finite. But, through his words, I feel as if I know them. We are kin.
Among these eternal beings are offshoots, spirits that structure the world—from water to fire and air. They walk with mortals, the latest exploration in divine carving.
The Veil is erected.
Lellia refuses to leave. Her people are here—her mortal children. They need Krokan as well. For Death is much a partner to Life. He will not leave her, cannot. He will not leave them.
So the two gods stay, right on the edge of the Veil from which their kind depart. Krokan ushering the souls of those lost to the Beyond. Lellia seeing to safeguarding the budding new life of the realm she helped make. And, for a time, it is peaceful.
Warmth floods me with the making of the early sirens. Creatures strong enough to touch the depths of her beloved. Their cousins, creatures of the land, the dryads. More. So much more.
Time passes. Both impossibly fast and slow. I see the centuries as a mortal that are mere blinks as a divine, otherworldly creature.
The first peoples die and Krokan ushers them away. Their children die. And their children. The cycle is unbroken and effortless. But it also begins to put distance between those alive and their divine caretakers. Their stories fade, lost. Every generation is less and less able to stand before the old ones—to comprehend them.
The magic wars begin.
Humans are hunted. Lellia bleeds for them—kin fighting kin. She can no longer find the right words to communicate with her children. They cannot—or will not—listen to her begging for peace.
The Fade is erected.
A heartbreak with all the ferocity of an earthquake that can rattle the foundations of the world. A song that is more akin to screaming. Pain that is only lessened some by a Human Queen returning to the world where Lellia resides. With her hands, a tree is planted at the base of Lellia’s altar. A home for her heartbreak. For a weary goddess whose children no longer sing to her as they once did. For a goddess whose voice has become frail and tired. She retreats into the tree, if only for a moment, to nurse her wounded heart.
The roots grow ever deeper.
She sinks into the earth. Into the rock of a mortal world. It anchors life and nature and magic. But her own strength begins to wither.
Come with me, my love,Krokan begs.This is no longer a place for us.
They still need me. A little bit longer, she replies. Fainter, and fainter, each time more than the last.
Their duet continues. He sings for her up from the darkness. Yearning for light. Yearning for her. Krokan sings with all the voices who have come before and Lellia responds with all the voices of those yet to come.
But it grows weaker and weaker. Fainter.
Soon, the duet is a solo.
Come with me, my love,Krokan begs.There is little time left.
There is no reply.
The song fades.My chest is tight and throat is raw. My eyes prickle. Three millennia of longing. Of service to people who can’t remember, or comprehend their words any longer.
Next to me, Ilryth doubles over, one hand covering his mouth, the other clutching at his breast as if he could rip out his heart. I throw my arms around him, alleviating the spine-breaking burden of loneliness with our touch. He lets out a long, sorrowful note. One I can’t help but echo.
The song we sing has shifted. It is still our own, but forever changed with the burden of what we have seen. With what we now know.
“I was wrong,” I rasp. “I was wrong, about you. About it all. I had thought you were perhaps enemies. I thought that you kept her captive. But she was the one whochoseto stay, even knowing what it might mean for her to continue pouring her power into this world… All you wanted was to free her and return to your kin—to save her.” I straighten to look at Krokan. His emerald eyes shine in response.
There is good love out there. True love. Love that will go to the highest mountain or to the depths of the deepest sea. I know it before me and know it beside me.
