“Asha could never have Colden Moeshka,” he says, “and Colden Moeshka could not enter the City of Ruin, but who would stop Fia Drumera from leaving her throne and seeking the man of the North? So Neri made Asha a deal. If she gave him her heart once again, this time for eternity, he would do the thing she could not. He would make Fia Drumera immortal as well, but worse, he would cast within her the element of fire and in Colden Moeshka the element of frost, that they may never—for all their infinite days—come together again.”
I sit back, saddened for these people I’ve never met. People who have lived only as legends to me. Does my sister know this story of her lover? And if so, does she not care that his heart once burned so brightly for another? That it might still? Or has too much time passed? Enough that he could love someone new?
“The Eastlanders have finally learned this tale,” Alexus says. “It’s been kept secret for over three centuries. It’s the reason the gods destroyed themselves. Thanks to Thamaos’s influence, Neri and Asha were condemned and buried at Mount Ulra, where they might spend eternity together in their shame. After their deaths, Thamaos wanted to claim their lands, but the one decent god of Tiressia, Urdin of the Western Drifts, saw the plan that was in the making. Thamaos knewUrdin would be a problem, so he did a thing that you and I may regret, even three centuries later.”
“What? What did he do?”
A solemn expression falls over Alexus’s face. “Thamaos, unlike Neri, was a believer in choosing a king or queen to rule his lands. He treated them like servants, their purpose to deal with the pathetic Tiressians standing in his way. He put a man named King Gherahn in power over the Eastland Territories.”
I narrow my eyes. I’ve heard that name from lore.
“And King Gherahn,” Alexus continues, “employed the sorcerers of the land for the Land Wars. His pre-eminent sorcerer was a young man from the Tribe of Ghent. They called him Un Drallag.”
Again, I nod, more urgently this time, recognizing the name from my father’s stories. I’m beginning to see the different tales weaving together.
“Un Drallag.”I spell the name in Old Elikesh, though I also never imagined him being a young man.“The sorcerer who created the God Knife,”I add.
Alexus’s eyes light up. “Yes. You know this part?”
I shrug.“Father told me a little. That Un Drallag fashioned the knife from the bone of a long-dead god. Thamaos?”
“Yes, but Thamaos was very much alive when the knife was made. He cut himself open and tore out his own rib, offering it to Un Drallag for the creation of a weapon, so that he might defeat Urdin when the time came. But he failed. A battle ensued along the Jade River, close to Fia Drumera’s gates. Thamaos took Urdin from behind and drove the God Knife into his chest. But before Urdin died, he shoved his fist and the blade through his own body, driving it out through his back and into Thamaos’s heart. The last two gods of Tiressia died that day. Summerlanders came, and the final deities of our lands were buried at the Grove of the Gods.”
A gasp leaves me.“The Grove truly exists? I thought surely it was a myth. Many of us did.”
Alexus runs a hand over his beard. “It’s a very real place. Ancient as Loria. Gods of other lands are even buried there. The Prince of the East knows this, as have other eastern rulers before him, but Fia Drumera hasmanaged to keep the Eastlanders at bay. Now, however, they’ve learned that the queen’s greatest weakness might just be the isolated King of Winterhold, who will turn to nothing more than desert sand if they bring him across the Jade River and into her city. This is why I’m so selective about who I collect from the valley, and it’s why they don’t return home. They have a choice, but once they learn this story, they know it’s best for all of Tiressia if they stay and learn and protect. After they’re told the importance of guarding Colden, they understand why we cannot tell the whole vale. Some secrets can change the world, and those we love most can be terribly tempting given enough curiosity.”
I curl my fingers tight as my throat closes. I can’t say I would be so noble, but knowing this gives me some sense of peace about why Nephele never came home.
“Colden Moeshka is his own force to be reckoned with,” Alexus continues. “As restitution, the gods gave Colden and Fia a certain degree of command over their elements. He can breathe an icy fog. Freeze an enemy with a touch. If the Eastlanders somehow manage to take him, I worry they will use him against the Fire Queen, so they might access the Grove and the magick she has protected for so long.”
“What could the Prince of the East even do?”I ask.“The gods are dead.”
Furrowing his brow, Alexus switches to speaking with his hands.“At Nephele’s refuge, you asked me what the prince wanted with the knife. It is said that a god can rise, Raina. Remember what I told you about resurrection?”
So many things rush into my mind at once. Alexus’s words about resurrection, yes, but also my father’s words about the God Knife.It can kill anyone and anything, the blessed and the cursed, the forever living and the risen dead—even other gods.
The risen dead.
“A resurrection was performed with an Ancient One centuries ago,” Alexus says quietly. “The story tells of rituals and healers, not unlike yourself, using the hair of a dead god to bring them back from the afterlife. Some worshippers saved locks of the god’s tresses, not realizing their treasure could be used in a rite to restore life. All that was needed was a god remnant, an intact grave, and the right prayer.”
A chill runs across my skin as I glance at the God Knife strapped to his thigh.“Are you saying that…Thamaos could be resurrected?”
“I fear that is exactly what the Prince of the East plans to do, especially now that the knife has been found.”
My mind pitches from thought to thought.“What does that mean? For us? If the prince succeeds?”
“That depends on the prince’s plans. What I do know is that, when he lived, Thamaos wanted absolute rule, and he did not care how many lives were destroyed for him to attain it. I am certain he is even angrier than before, having spent centuries in the pits of the underworld. If he is brought back from the grave, he will not stop until every person living in this shattered empire bows to him. He would start a war in Tiressia first and foremost, to bring down Fia. After that, I do not know. The world is much bigger than Tiressia. There are plenty of other lands to conquer, other rulers to dominate, even living godlings. He could change the entire world as we know it, unless I stop the prince from taking Colden to the Summerlands and keep this”—he pats the knife—“safe.”
A sudden feeling of loyalty washes over me. For Tiressia and its people. For Alexus. Even for parts of our world that are only stories to me. Can I find my sisterandhelp Alexus? Help him save Colden Moeshka and protect a queen I’ve never even seen?
“When the god battle was over,” Alexus continues, “King Gherahn demanded that Un Drallag travel to the Summerlands and retrieve the God Knife. It was said to be lost in the Jade River or in the sands where it might never be found again. The sorcerer went to the Eastland coast, but in truth, he was tired. He had a wife by then, a child on the way. He wanted a life that was more than the one he lived under the king’s thumb as a spy, an assassin, a weapon. So he abandoned the only home he had ever known and fled to the Northland valley, where he’d been a spy once upon a time. The God Knife was never located, but Un Drallag felt it calling to him for many years after. There is such power in this knife, Raina.” He touches it. “It would be better if it didn’t exist, but there are no gods left to destroy it.”
Dread pools in my stomach.“My father said that the blade harkensto the one from whose body it was made. Is the blade calling to Thamaos now?”
That thought terrifies me, that I might’ve been carrying around a relic that summons a dead and dangerous god.
“No, that isn’t true,” he replies, tilting his head, looking at me like he needs his next words to sink deep.“Perhaps your father was confused. Because the blade calls to its maker, Raina,”he signs.
