I kiss him with all my might.
His arms around my waist, he opens his mouth, deepening the kiss. His hard body presses into mine and for a moment the raging of the sea, the shaking of the earth, and all the uncertainty all fades away. When we break apart, all I see is him, framed by a shower of silver leaves, falling like a heavy rain.
“I love you, you know,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“I really,reallydidn’t want to.”
“I know.” He smirks. Somehow the arrogance suits him.
“I don’t know what the future holds. If we can even be together at all. And if we could, I doubt I will be good for you and—”
He kisses me firmly, silencing me. “Stop worrying so much, Victoria. If we can manage to undo thousands of years of history, free an old god, andnotbreak the world in the process, I’m not too worried about anything else we might have to face in our future.” Ilryth releases me. “Now,go. Free Lady Lellia.”
We part and I race back toward the Lifetree, hoist the axe, and swing again. At the same time, Ilryth races toward the commotion of more sirens exploding from the tunnel. Fenny throws Dawnpoint to him, and he catches it. All the while, I keep swinging.
The sirens wage a war of song against each other. Krokan rumbles from the depths. Lellia screams. Altogether, it’s a cacophony. Horrible, loud and wrenching.
Ignoring the voices, I keep swinging, keep pulling away viny bars. My axe strikes to the rhythm in the tree. Time and again. Relentless. The battle rages behind me. But I keep going until…
Until the last vine falls away.
For the first time in centuries, the door is exposed and, for a moment, the world is still as the axe slips from my fingers. The seas are calm and the wind no longer howls. The singing has silenced, and everyone and everything collectively holds their breath in a thrall as I pull open the door to what had become Lellia’s unintended prison.
CHAPTER52
I am blinded by light.The slab of wood peeling away after ages upon ages hisses like the last exhale of a tired, wounded beast. Strings of membrane and goop cling between the door and the bark of the tree trunk as I continue to pry it open.
The blinding light fades and reveals the small, frail frame of an old god. Lellia is almost childlike in size, though she has the same air of timelessness about her as Lord Krokan. Her four arms are curled around her knees, three fingers on each hand clutching her sides, as she slumbers in the fetal position. She has two eyes, but they are large and circular, as a dragonfly’s would be. Wings of gossamer gold feathers have broken away from her shoulders, fusing with the cocoon she has been encased in. Leaves coat her forearms and hands like gloves. Woody antlers extend from her temples, connecting her with the tree itself.
There is no movement. She doesn’t rouse or open her eyes as the first breezes brush her cheeks. The world remains in an eerie state of calm. Even her song is silent and my heart pounds with fear that in my quest to save her, I created the shock that was the killing blow.
The sirens behind me murmur.
“Lady Lellia.”
“… Lellia…”
“Our Lady is dead…”
“We have killed her.”
“The rot came from her decay…”
I glance over my shoulder. Every warrior has dropped to their knees mid-fight. The chorus as well. All heads are bowed to the sand in reverence. A lonely, sad song of mourning rises from them. I can feel their worry and grief in my core, lamenting what they see as the death of all they knew and loved.
But they don’t see what I see. They’re too far. This close, I can see the twitching of the nubs on her back where her wings once connected. I can see eyes moving under the lids, as if she’s trying to rouse. I breathe a soft sigh of relief that comes out as a hum.
She’s not dead and gone. She’s fighting with all the tenacity life fights with. Life is both a graceful and an audacious thing. Life does not relent. It can be broken, time and again, without relenting. Quivering and weak, her song persists. She holds on, waiting to be reunited with her husband. Waiting for peace.
I reach in.
In the heart of the tree, the wood is soft and has a slight give to it. She’s suspended in the thick silver membrane that my hands plunge into. It’s as solid and temperate as warm tallow. Like reaching into a beam of sunlight.
Lellia’s body is solid silver, but surprisingly light. Her weight and size make it easy to cradle her in both arms. Leaning back, I free her from the godly plasma, holding her to my chest. She still does not stir, but I can feel her heart beat against mine. Her head is heavy on my shoulder, body stiff and cooling with the sea breezes.
I turn and, for the first time in thousands of years, mortals lay eyes on the goddess.
