“The gods can’t hear us here. The gateway is too loud, magically speaking. They couldn’t find us if they wanted to because no matter how much magic we used, nothing we could do would drown out the scent of Nyxthos. Our voices are a whisper against a waterfall of power rushing from that river. It’s one of the few safe places in all the world. No walls can keep them out if they want to listen in, but here, the only way they could hear us is if they were standing in this very room with us. Which they aren’t.”
I look at the side of Azric’s face. Sadness covers him from the roots of his raven hair to the tip of his chin. The familiarity of it strikes a chord in my memory. This sadness is what’s hidden under Rhaskar’s expression when he’s sat coldly across from me at his worktable. I’ve heard the stories of what he’s done. I know the cruelty that this world requires.
But Azric isn’t eighty years old. Somehow, he still has the same look, that of a man who has done things that tore at his soul. Tonight, Azric isn’t hiding those wounds from me as he normally would. Tonight, he’s showing me the side of him no one else sees, the side that acknowledges the pain that lingers in his soul.
“Darian isn’t coming back,” I say softly.
“I know.” The words come out flat. “I watched you draw the arrow. I saw the yellow fletchings in the wrong section of your quiver.Theydid this to him. It’s not your fault, nor is it his.”
“They?”
He turns to me. “The gods. They killed Darian, and they knew he wouldn’t Return. I don’t know why they did it, but it was intentional. Maybe it was to hurt me. Maybe it was to hurt you or Aunt Ainslee. Maybe it was to cause a rift between us. I don’t know their reasons, but I know what they did, and I won’t forget it. One day…” He takes a deep breath, and in no more than a loud whisper, he says, “One day, all of them will be punished for what they’ve done.”
I want to swear, to curse them all. I thought it had been an accident. I’dassumedit was just a terrible mistake, but I’m not used to expecting the gods to meddle in my life. I should be used to it since they’ve maneuvered every step so far. Why wouldn’t they be the reason that my only real friend would be taken from me?
Instead of cursing, I nod slowly. “But how do you punish a god?” I whisper.
This time, Azric is quiet for a long time. “I don’t know, Fiona Thorne. But unlike the rest of the world, I believe all things are possible. One day, I will find a way to make them hurt just as badly as they’ve made every person on Nyth hurt, and I will smile with every one of their screams.”
We linger in those words for several moments as they sink in. Instead of responding, I reach for his hand and take it in mine. “I think I would give a great many things to see that.”
His gaze goes to my hand in his and then to my eyes. “It’s my second greatest desire, but it will have to wait until after we save everyone else from the Hunters.”
My eyes open wide as I make the realization. “The Hunters know how to kill gods,” I whisper.
Azric smiles cruelly. “I know. Why else would I have to wait until after our fight with them?”
He’s really planning to turn against them. It’s not just some words whispered in a tavern amongst those hurt by them. His words aren’t curses said in mourning. He means them just as much as he means to lead the fight against the Hunters.
I squeeze his hand tightly. “Once upon a time, I thought you were my greatest enemy. Did you know that?”
He chuckles softly. “I assume everyone believes I’m their enemy.”
“You’d have been right about me. But Azric,” I whisper, “I was wrong. I think everyone’s wrong about you.”
He shakes his head slowly. “They’re not.” He turns back to the dark water running through the room. “You weren’t either. Not really. I will hurt whoever gets in my way. Just like I killed Echo, someone I deeply cared for. Just like I would have killed Darian myself if he’d gotten in the way of you winning the trials.”
He drags his hand away from mine and says, “You need to know that about me, Fiona. I can’t care what happens to anyone. If they stand in the way of saving Nyth from the Hunters or me forcing the gods to atone for their evils, I will do whatever I have to do to remove the obstacle. Iamyour greatest enemy if you stand in my way.”
I frown at him. “But Darian wouldn’t have tried to stop you. I don’t want the Hunters to destroy the world.”
He turns away from me again to look at the gateway between Nyth and the Realm of Night. “Not today, you don’t. But tomorrow? A month from now? When I need to destroy a village full of children? What if I had to go to war with Sylvantia, or crush Stormhaven, or murder your father? Then you would stand up to me. Then you would call me enemy, and I’d be forced to bring all that I am against you. You would die just as quickly as the others. Just as quickly as Echo.”
There’s a hardness in his eyes, but the sadness hasn’t left his face. It’s an overwhelming emotion that he probably doesn’t even truly recognize. The wounds of the soul, the ones that have built a person, aren’t like a sword cut. You don’t scream in pain. You don’t bandage them and coax them to heal.
Because soul wounds like his, like Rhaskar’s, don’t ever truly heal. They simply become a part of you. They shape you. They turn the boy who laughs into the man who frowns.
They’re still wounds, though, and the man I’m staring at has more than anyone thirty years old should have. “You can’t expect to do it all yourself. You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s what I was made to do. Yes, others will take up the sword. Others will follow, but my place is at the front of it all. If I’m not strong enough, if I make the wrong choices…”
I move toward him, stepping between him and the river. “No. No single person can carry that weight. I may not be Godforged, and I’m certainly not the Prince of Bones, but I might end up being the Champion of Nyxthos in a week. You cannot expect yourselfto stand all alone against what’s coming, Azric. Not even the gods expect to do that.”
“The gods are cowards, Fiona. They don’t think they’d win a fight with what’s coming. That’s why they hide. That’s why they plan to let us fight this war. They’ve set up the board, and now they’re going to sit and watch as we play our parts. Except that the game of Khorra isn’t lost when you lose a set of troops. It’s over when you lose the champion, which happens to be me.”
I run my hand over his cheek, and instead of pulling away from me, he softens. “Fine. But you can’t stand alone. You have to find people to trust to help carry the weight of those decisions and actions. Otherwise, the weight of it all will crush you regardless of how strong you are.”
He stares into my eyes, those bright orange eyes burning into me just as they did the first time. “And if I have to burn all of Sylvantia to save Nyth?” he asks.
