I could not stay by your side as there was a meeting with the other champions that I had to attend. You will be safe in my room. No one would willingly step foot into my bedroom because, other than you, no one has ever left it still breathing.
Stay as long as you’d like. There will be food just outside the door. I’ve put your things beside the bed. If you’d like to leave, be safe. Remember, your allies are now your enemies. All of them know you are human, and you do not have any allies now that Darian is gone. Be safe, Fiona. I cannot stand the thought of you dying.
I will be back in a few hours, and you are more than welcome to stay until then.
~Azric Cyrus
I fold the letter back up and press my head against the headboard as memories of last night come to me fully. Death is coming for me in a week, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
It’s the right decision. I will not run from it. Instead, the only thing I can do is pretend Saelira never gave me that prophecy. Ifsomething is going to kill me when I join the final trial, then I’ll be as ready as possible for it.
For the first time since I arrived in Castle Lachlan, I realize something. I am a Priest whether or not I’m ever allowed into the Order. I have acted as Rhaskar, Cedric, and Bram taught me. The morals and teachings of the Order ruled my actions at the most important moment of my life. No one could tell me I don’t deserve to wear my cloak or armor.
I feel a desperate need to feel them against my skin, and I stand up. As Azric’s letter said, they’re neatly folded on a chair near the foot of the bed. I pull the linen wrap out and twist it around my body as I’ve done since I first wore armor. The ritualistic nature of it is comforting. This is the first part of what keeps me safe from everything, and I don’t mean the physical protection.
It’s my teachings, my training, and the world I grew up in that’s kept me safe. I’m not Godforged. I’m a human. I’m a Priest. Priests may die, but they don’t give up. They don’t fail even if they give their lives in the process. We are all bricks in the wall against the storm. We accept the pain and suffering so that the rest of humanity doesn’t have to. Now, I’m not only protecting humanity, but all Nyth.
The cloth that has held tight against me for my entire life is a reminder of that. Then comes the armor, the thin leather plates created to help defy the very gods themselves. It’s protection against magic without hindering our Marks. It’s protection in a world where we are the weakest and most vulnerable. Yet, we alone stood against them all. We fought against the army of theUndying, and we won. Many lives were lost when we refused the gods, but the wall has never fallen. We adapted as only humans can.
I put on the tunic, the boot lace still holding it together, and I smile. I’ve survived when all but three Godforged have died. I’ve had help, but I was not carried. I’m the reason we weren’t killed by Nyxthos’s shadow creatures. I killed an Abomination. I killed Serica. I killed demons.
Then comes the cloak, the truest mark of the Priest. As I pick it up, a small ermine fur pouch falls out of it. The sound of three little glass beads clinking together echoes in the otherwise silent room.
I blink at the sight of the pouch. The beads. Caeldra’s god-touched gift to Azric when he was a baby. She, of all the gods, can break destiny, and my smile grows even wider as I pick up the pouch.
Saelira may have given me a prophecy, but prophecies mean little when you can reshape destiny. This pouch and the glass beads it contains mean there’s a possibility I won’t die in a week. Yet, even as I hold the key to Saelira’s prophecy, I know there’s a good chance I won’t be clever enough to use it at the perfect time.
Then again, hasn’t every day been the same thing? I wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, or experienced enough to survive the last trial when I first got to Castle Lachlan. I wasn’t even experienced enough to survive the first night when I arrived. If Azric hadn’t protected me, I don’t know that I’d have made it through that night. If Ainslee hadn’t found that first room we’d hidden in, I doubt I’d have made it to my second trial.
But I’d survived each of those, and I’d learned. I’d adapted. I’d been a Priest. I may not know how to change destiny today, but Rhaskar Thorne didn’t know how to wield lightning before he did it.
I pull the cloak over my head and tie it, the smile never leaving my lips. “I am a Priest, and we make our own destinies.”
Chapter 49
“The time is approaching. I can feel it, but I cannot see it.”
“You will know. You always have before.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Well, that would be very inconvenient.”
~Conversations between Caeldra and Marek
Fiona
I can feel Azric’s eyes on me as I stand in front of him on the dragon’s roost. The dragons are on the other side of the rooftop, far enough away that I don’t know if they can hear us. They watch as he creates a flying horse out of shadows and mounts it. A ten foot long lance made of shadows appears in his hand, and he takes to the air. My daggers are in my hands, and I’m in a crouch.
The Infusions of the Cat, Bear, Falcon, and Boar flow through my veins as I prepare myself. I don’t have to hide my powers any longer. Once the final trial begins, I can use my Marks. I can use Infusions that transform my body. I can wield the full powers of aPriest, and nothing the crowd watching sees matters. They can’t do anything. If I win the trials, I’ll become Nyxthos’s champion regardless, and I’ll be untouchable by everyone. If I lose, I’ll almost certainly die within the trial, so it won’t matter.
He swoops down, the lance directed straight at my chest. At the last minute, I take a step to the side, and the lance slams into the stone, but Azric doesn’t seem fazed at all. I try to leap at him, but I’m too slow, and he circles for another pass.
“Damn it all. How am I supposed to attack you when you can fly?” I call out to him.
As he’s diving again, he yells, “I let Inni deal with Riders, so I couldn’t tell you.”
I slip a dagger into its sheath, and I raise my hand. When he’s twenty feet above me, I activate the Mark of the Phoenix on my left breast, right above my heart. Heat flows through my body and explodes from my fingertips in the form of dragonfire.
