Her fingers tangled in her hair as she raked them through her strands. ‘What does thatmean?’
No different. She was no different from the Diaforaté the realm condemned today; from the practitioners who had caused the destruction of peace centuries ago.
Perhaps this power hadn’t come from the gods at all. Perhaps she had done this to herself, had somehow corrupted her affinity and created … this.
Because her gods … her gods would not condemn her in this way.
Gianna would not accept this.
Shewould not accept this.
Not when she had been so close.
So close to what?that voice inside of her whispered.You’ve known this truth all along.You will never be their saint.
Natali tilted their head, a mournful look passing across their face as they watched her. ‘Whatever you’re holding on to … it will destroy you.’ A heavy sigh left their lips. ‘You may use the library for research. Perhaps there is still information there that can aid your armies.’
And then they departed.
Aya swallowed, the silence in the training room more like a defining roar.
I thought it was the Enforcer affecting you.
Not his darkness.
Hers.
It’s not light that drives you.
Was she really surprised? Natali said that the Decachiré practitioners were rumored to have an inherent darkness. Perhaps Aya had begun the descent into hers thirteen years ago.
For centuries, people had expected a second of Evie’s kind. A Saint of Light. But now, what were they left with?
Whatever you’re holding on to … it will destroy you.
It had been hope.
Hope that had wedged its way into her.
Hope that people had clung to for centuries.
And Natali was right. That foolish hope would destroy them all.
39
Thirteen years before
She was going to erupt. The hot, raging feeling within her was growing, boiling her very blood until she swore she could smell fire as she fell to her knees in the clearing.
Dead. Her mother was dead, and Aya …
Aya wrapped her arms tighter around her, the rage building and building and building until she couldn’t take it anymore, until she bowed over her knees and screamed, her throat searing with the intensity of her cries.
Her head swam, her vision blurring with tears and a heady haze that had her slumping to the ground, consciousness sliding from her in one fell swoop.
When she awoke, she was on a hard cot in a small, sparse room she had never seen before. A woman towered over her, her face stoic as she stared down at Aya.
Galda. Trainer to the Dyminara.
