Again, I’m reminded of what Azric told me about humans being like cattle. The thought sends a shiver through me. The golden dragon swivels down to look at me with a single massive eye. “Fiona Thorne. You asked to speak with me?”
I nod to him. “Yes. I… I need to understand why you woke the gods,” I say, not knowing exactly how to phrase my question without sounding rude. He is a dragon, after all, and dragons are terrifyingly large.
“I woke the gods to save Nyth,” he says, his voice making the stones under my very feet rumble. “I did not have any other option.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You stayed here on Nyth when the rest of the dragons fled so you could save the world. I’m not entirely sure how you did it, but that’s what I’ve heard. Then, when Maeve came to you to wake the gods, you agreed. You knew the gods would draw the Hunters, so why would you do it?”
I look over the ancient dragon. His golden scales are covered in more scars than Inni. He may be a dragon, but not all dragons are warriors like Inni and Sidon. Some are slower and more prone to injury. Hundreds of scratches mar his beautifully golden, glowing scales. Some are tiny, only a few inches long, but many, many more are as long as my arm or more. He has fought in this war even though he isn’t suited for it any more than Cedric is. Sometimes, even the thinkers must use tooth and claw.
Calyr’s body shakes like a wet dog trying to dry itself. He spreads his wings and stands up taller, making him seem enormous. “I was notaskedto wake the gods, Daughter of the Priest. I was forced. Maeve Arden trapped me in my cave and threatened to send me to the Void with shadow magic if I did not wake the gods.”
“You thought she’d kill you, so you doomed all of Nyth?” I ask, not quite believing that a dragon who had lived for longer than the Fae had even existed would be so afraid of death.
He exhales sharply, a tiny spout of flame escaping his mouth. “No. I was the last guardian of the Thrones. If she had sent me to the Void, I would not have been able to protect the only things that were keeping the magic of Nyth alive from her. She could have destroyed them, and then there would not have been enough magic for the Fae to survive.”
He moves even closer. “They would have slowly faded and died. No one would have been able to save the Nyth my brethren and I dedicated ourselves to protecting had she done this. I was given the impossible choice of waking the gods and drawing the Hunters to Nyth, or allowing all the magic of Nyth to disappear completely. I chose to protect the ones I had created rather than guarantee their destruction.”
I nod to him and bow my head. Yes, just as I thought. He was trying to save people. He became a monster to protect them. “If we win against the Hunters, the world could be good again?” I ask.
He relaxes some, his neck craning to look at me. “It could. That is what I hope. That is what Isee. The gods will step aside then, as they were when we first arrived here. They will watch from afar, inserting themselves much less regularly. They will rest. The wars will end. People, humans, Fae, and Godforged alike, will live in relative peace. If I had refused Maeve Arden, the Fae and magical creatures would already be dead. Now, they may die, but it is not quite so certain.”
I nod again. “But we have all suffered so much more.”
“Suffering is better than death, is it not?” he responds.
“Itis.” I look up at him. “You became a monster to save them. You’ve become something everyone fears rather than reveres, and I will soon have to make that decision as well. How do you bear that burden? You swore to protect them all, but now you kill them. Now they tell stories of how terrible you are.”
He lets out another bout of hot air, but it’s not in anger this time. “Daughter of the Priest, you were not pulled through the tangle of destiny to be someone who is revered.”
His eyes turn a bright and shimmering gold as he pauses for just a few seconds. “The Lost chose your soul to bear the weight of sorrow, for there will be much in the coming days. While the Prince may be capable of defeating his enemies, he will crack like poor steel when forced to bear the weight of his decisions. You can see it even now, before the battle has even begun. Your soul is stronger than his. Your soul can bear the weight of what must be done. You were born to understand how to hope when everyone else has forgotten that there is anything but darkness surrounding you. The Prince… he clings to hope now, but soon enough, he will forget that there is anything but sadness in this world. You will not.”
He brings his eye ever closer to me, and he says, “You were not meant to save the common people. You were created to save the Prince.”
Chapter 52
I created the Order of the Priests to save humanity. I was arrogant, yes. I was a little power hungry as well. But I sought to save my people, and I did. Now… now, I wonder if I would give it up if I could just save her. Once, I crushed her hands, and her pain almost swayed me. Would it be different now that I love her as a daughter rather than a tool?
~Rhaskar Thorne, personal journals
Fiona
Fear is a terrible thing, and as I wrap myself in my Priest’s cloak, I can feel it coiling in my belly. Tonight, as I stare at the moon rising above the horizon, I recognize that I’m supposed to die. My hand goes to the ermine pouch with three glass beads in it. These are the only things that can save me, but when do I use them? How do I use them? Caeldra’s power to change destiny hides within them, but what does that even mean?
No sound comes from my lips as I lean over the battlement on the wall that rings Castle Lachlan. No one would know the terror that reigns inside me. Every soldier knows they could die any day. They may even expect to die in battle, but no one wants to know the exact time that will happen.
A slightly damp breeze springs up, and it’s as though the air itself is trying to soothe me. It’s so reminiscent of the way Azric had used shadows to tease my body, slipping beneath my cloak, armor, and wrap to touch my bare skin. I’d swear there are crimson nails brushing my cheek as the breeze sweeps past me.
I’d give anything to sink into his arms, to let him remind me I’m strong enough. There’s no one else in the world I’d let myself cling to. I will most likely die tonight. I’ll save the people of Dunloch. I’ll save the Mages. I’ll save the duskthorn trees and the skryths and veilrunners, however terrible they seem. They’re animals, no different from wolves and bears, and they should be given their place to hunt, to be free to survive.
Not destroyed. Not snuffed out like a candle in a storm. The living should be allowed to live. They should be given the chance to fight for their survival. The Godforged and the Fae. The humans. Everyone in this twilight landscape should be allowed to fight for the right to continue to breathe, and if I walk away from Castle Lachlan, they won’t be given the chance.
So, I let the fear coil in my belly. I stare at the moon with terror inside me, and I don’t run. I am a Priest. I am human. I am the daughter of Rhaskar Thorne, and I will not allow fear to win any more than he let the fear of Lysara’s fury sway his decisions.
I smile at the thought, and some of the fear fades. Rhaskar would be proud of me. I may still hold an incredible amount of anger toward the man I once called Father for what he did, but he prepared me for this moment in my life in a way no one else could.
Tonight, I am going to defy not only the strongest of the Godforged and become the Champion of Nyxthos, but I’m also going to defy destiny itself. Tonight, I am a brick in the wall against the storm, and if I crumble, I still will have pushed the storm away at least a little longer.
The wind whispers through my hair, and it’s like I can hear Darian laughing. He should be here with me. We should be facing the last trial together. We should be playing Khorra by candlelight while we wait for it to start. He should be making jokes to take our minds off what will happen in the coming hours.
