Araes chuckled, the sound sending warmth up her veins. It was a gruff, sleep-heavy sound, and Tethys found herself desperately wishing to hear it again.
“Given your track record, my queen, I don’t believe you’re trustworthy,” he replied, cracking a smile. His casual kindness was disarming to say the least.
“Was that a joke, Lieutenant? I didn’t realize you had a sense of humor,” Tethys said, her lips widening into a matching grin.
“There’s plenty you probably don’t think me capable of, my queen,” he said, sipping the freshly poured coffee before him. Tethys arched her brow and returned to the stack of messages Arissa placed beside her plate. The matron circled the table and placed a message beside Araes as well.
“Mail from a secret admirer, perhaps?” the old woman snarked, before returning to the kitchens. Araes snorted at the matron’s remark. It would seem everyone in the manor used humor this morning to forget last night’s horrible ordeal.
“Still nothing from my sister. Or Messene for that matter,” Tethys sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m at my wit’s end. How much longer do we wait before taking matters into our own hands, Lieutenant?”
“Well, you could always travel to Ursae yourself. I’m sure the northern city folk would be thrilled to see their most beloved goddess’s sister,” Araes replied, flashing a sarcastic half smile. Tethys straightened, a bold, goldenglint glistening in her eyes.
“What an excellent idea, Lieutenant,” she said, rising from her chair. “It’s not like those fools on my council would even notice my absence.”
Araes didn’t offer a protest, his gaze now caught on the message beside him.
“Who is that from, Lieutenant?” she asked, feeling his aura shift.
“Another soldier of the 15th. There’s been another attack at the border…no casualties, but a few of the 15th sustained injuries,” he replied, loosening a breath. Tethys watched him carefully, searching for any sign of contempt or uncertainty. She supposed it nearly killed him to sit across from her, enjoying imported coffee and fruits, while his unit held the front line. Araes pocketed the parchment and returned his attention to the goddess though, and so she focused back on their present obstacles.
“I’m not going to rely on others anymore to solve Venia’s problems,” she said, glancing out of the window. The morning sunlight trickled in from behind a thick grey blanket of fog stretching across the horizon. The realm was nearly halfway through the dry season, and the city’s reserves were dwindling dangerously without the Canissaen trade routes reestablished.
“I don’t like the look in your eye, my queen…” Araes said, meeting her beside the windows. His fingers hovered close enough to hers she could feel the residual warmth emulating from his skin.
“With the rebels still a threat to our border, my husband will have his hands full in Canissa. We’ll leave for Ursae as soon as possible,” Tethys said, placing a hand to the chilled glass pane. “And before you protest, Lieutenant, I’ve made up my mind.”
“Goddess, you can’t be serious? Ursae isn’t safe anymore. Not with death wielder hoards making it as far as the Venian border. Who knows what those roads are like?Especially the un-patrolled ones,” he argued, turning to face her.
“Lieutenant, don’t press me on this. Please. I can’t wait any longer just sitting here. In this house.” Understanding flashed across his face. This proposed journey wasn’t just for Polaris’s message—it was an escape.
“When do we leave, then?” he asked, his voice softening.
She threw him a haunted smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ll have Arissa send an urgent message to Ophis this afternoon. I’m sure his shades have a more than discreet route out of the city. We’ll leave in the morning,” she said, returning to her seat at the table. “Now, why don’t you take some time this morning to open the message you slipped into your pocket.”
Araes’s shifted his weight. “Goddess—”
“It’s fine, Lieutenant. You’re exhausted, I can tell.” Her eyes softened. “Get some rest before Euda’s lesson this afternoon.”
† † †
“Now, General Galaxya offered her armies to the Ursaeans to face the legendary beasts of the northern realm, but in doing so left Venia unprotected from the threats to the eastern shores. All the while, Aquilae and Canissa with their significantly smaller armies couldn’t offer help as they faced their own prehistoric threats from the sea.” Euda, in the midst of her history lesson, spoke with a tone that reminded Tethys of a simple, single note on the piano played over and over again.
She’d heard the story a million times over. The dark age of mortal history, as it was referred to, was a time of violence, bloodshed, and near human extinction. Phosphora and Obscuros realized they needed to intervene or else witness the fall of humanity entirely. So, they banished thecreatures of old to the Rift.
The Rift, created with a slice of Astraeus’s blade at the beginning of time, was described as a blackness, void of all time and space. The two worlds ebbed and flowed around each other, but never intersected. Time, like a roaring river, flooded from one to the next through a singular gateway, but so long as Obscuros and Phosphora maintained their wards, that gateway remained locked.
The Rift, even now, was just a whisper in back alleys, and soon enough, without written history, the mortals would forget the magic keeping them safe. They’d remember their armies and the legendary generals who led them as their glorified saviors. Not the gods. Nor the shadows where demons lurked.
Without Darkness and Light’s ever-flowing balance, the entities banished to the Rift could tear a rip in the shimmering curtain that kept them separate and once more cross into the mortal realm.
Or so the fable told.
“Yes, Euda, I know and then the mortals lived happily ever after,” Tethys sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Preparations for their midnight journey to Ursae were well underway, and with only a few more hours in the suffocation great hall, Tethys felt the spark of nerves spread like wildfire through her body.
“My lady, this history isn’t something to simply brush aside. It’s what shaped our very world,” Euda cried, rising from her stool. Her delicate little heels clicked as the mouse of a woman approached Tethys.
“Euda, I know who and what and how our world came to be, please. Let us discuss something new,” Tethys said, grumbling as the copyist outstretched a palm. She took it reluctantly and allowed Euda to lead her to a dusty shelf of ledgers and leather bound texts.
