Completing the Trial is impressive enough.
“It's just us, darling.” The Wyvern’s voice is smooth and feminine, rather than a roar. “You don't need to belittle yourself on my account.”
Aura spins on her heel. The Wyvern is gone.
Instead, a tall, curvy woman with soft features stands in her stead. Her thick, red hair tumbles like gentle waves down her back. Her intense, bright green gaze observes Aura as she cinches a robe around her figure.
Wyverns are known to exist, but she does not understand how or why. Legends state that the people of Treland pushed out the last wyvern of her home country centuries ago.
“What do you know about me, little witch?” she asks, as if reading Aura’s thoughts.
“You were Makt’s wife and overseer of the pilgrims venturing to the Forest of Fear.”
She nods. “Did you ever wonder how a god came to love a mortal woman?”
“I fear that simply knowing you exist has left me stunned,” Aura admits.
“Long before Makt found himself sharing living space in the Abyss, he was far more considerate of his country and its people. I was merely a pilgrim in the Forest of Fear, assisting others through their Trials. My abilities are rare, much like yours. Like yourself, I can channel all the powers of the Endless Shore. Except a nautilus shell does not bind me.” She leans against a tree, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
How does she know anything of my powers?
“All until Makt,” she continues. “He guided my powers and encouraged them to flourish. We fell in love…Well, I fell in love. Perhaps he loved the concept of me more than the reality. Regardless, the God of Power elevated me to a lesser goddess. Like any being of my station, I learned to take the form of a wyvern.” Her lips thin as she recalls an unsavory memory from centuries ago. “And then he made me his wife.”
Fury should blind her senses, knowing her friends are bound back in the hamlet of the Sanctum. Yet, her thirst for knowledge overtakes any sense of rage, along with a churning compassion for this mighty woman.
“What happened?” Aura cannot suppress the questions surging in her mind. “Did he fear you becoming too powerful?”
The Wyvern chuckles darkly. “He knew I was too powerful, and I had known of his infidelities for decades. When you stepped foot in my realm, I read the runes on all of you. The perception of me is that of a jaded ex-lover. How sad.” She scoffs.
I have so many questions…
Aura poses a question at the forefront of her thoughts: “Is that why you killed Makt’s children?”
The Wyvern’s laugh resembles a trickling stream flowing over smooth stones. “Oh, gracious, the tales have spun awry, have they not? You and your band of melancholic men believe you know the God of Power.” She tosses her thick red locks.
How could the tales of Makt worsen?
“I hope you are not squeamish, little witch.”
Aura cautiously approaches the Wyvern, acknowledging her desire to learn more about her abilities and the god they hunt–Calder’s sire.
“I will not pretend that my interest in Makt was innocent. His abilities in his bed were life-changing.” The Wyvern’s voice trails off to another era. “As a younger woman, I was inexplicably drawn to his power. Perhaps my hope for a better life caused me to turn a blind eye to his experiments at first.”
“Experiments?”
The Wyvern exhales loudly, focusing on the lake.
Aura worries she won’t respond.
At last, the Wyvern parts her lips. “Halvguds were not always a rare find. A millennium ago, the gods discovered that halvguds represented an extension of theirseidr,in a sense. Your dear grandfather bore several children with abilities like your father's, but more for his enjoyment in having a family than for any real enhancement to hisseidr.Most gods had a collection of halvguds that spanned the centuries. Except Volund and Noxumbra, of course, as that was beneath them. However, it was Makt who took the concept to an unnatural level.”
Aura’s blood runs cold as the vision takes shape in her mind. “Did he breed them?” she whispers.
Her words cause the Wyvern to flinch. A disgusted expression spreads across her lovely features. “That was the least of the concerns. He commanded an army of male halvguds across the continent, responding to his vile bidding. Yet, it was the Daughters of Makt–as they were called–who fell to his depravity,” she clutches her mouth, shaking her head. “He thought he could extend hisseidrfurther if his halvgud daughters produced another by his sire. He kept those poor women locked in the bowels of Nightwall Keep, visiting them in hopes their children would be more powerful.”
Aura pales, swallowing the sickness brewing in her gut. “What happened to the children of his daughters?”
“A halvgud rebellion arose that divided the loyalties of the pantheon. Children of all the gods united, led by a son of Makt, to seize the afterlives. I sided with the gods defending against them. I killed each and every one of Makt’s children, mistresses, daughters, and his army. All to ensure no descendant of Makt could ever rise again.”
