“Something that started many lunar years ago,” I whisper, my fingers tracing patterns on the table. Unconsciously, I leave faint trails of moisture – the small amount of power I still have even though magic has vanished since I banished Atlas. A small amount of it remains in me, even after being re-birthed.
“I wasn’t always Iviolan, the baker’s daughter,” I continue, my voice falling into the rhythm of waves against the shore – a cadence I can’t shake, even after decades in human form. “Before this life, I was Drahenå or as you know her … The Goddess of Ashonera.”
I see disbelief flash across Natala’s face. Of course she doubts me. The stories of The Goddess are taught to every child in Antalis. I’ve heard the tales they tell – simplified versions of my true history, legends that barely capture the weight of creation. But I always tell Carnaxa more of the story.
“I know how it sounds,” I say, my gaze drifting to Carnaxa, who now builds a castle from wet sand. The boy, Thylas, once again right beside her as he smiles down at her. I tried to ignore the look of him, I tried to ignore where I know, in my soul, he comes from. The darkness that surrounds him. I turn my attention back to Natala. “Two hundred years ago, I was reborn … to start the cycle again because I was losing. I walked among the mortals.”
The memories wash over me: the ritual of rebirth, the agony of compressing all I am into a more mortal form, the slow awakening in a human body with only fragments of my power remaining. The joy of finding Thesix again, my twin drop, now reborn as Clennom. The miracle of bearing a child together – something I thought impossible for a creation of Tiyo.
“And Clennom, the King of Antalis, he was once Thesix, my twin drop.” A genuine smile touches my lips, warm with the love that has spanned centuries. “We found each other again, as we always will.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Tala asks, her voice sounding less of disbelief.
I feel my expression darken as a chill runs through me, one that has nothing to do with my fading connection to this world. “Because … the soul of Atlas, the King of Shaston, has beenreborn in a new body time and time again. Until now. Now, his body is once again the same as the man I knew. He carries the same obsession, the same desire to possess what isn’t his.”
“Khaysus?” Tala whispers, proving exactly why I wanted to trust her with this. She knows the stories better than most.
My eyes snap to hers. “He didn’t make it to this world, thankfully. There was a sacrifice – Kya, a friend of mine in the end. She sacrificed herself to contain him, leading to the southern continent’s formation.” This was something I watched above, as Kya gave au?ji tu?ru?as the Minasians now call it. When I changed, she felt him approaching – and then she shut the doorway. But even that, one day, will wear out with Atlas still here. “The price of creation is always high.”
I notice Natala studying my face, perhaps seeing how the blue of my eyes seems to fade. My hand trembles slightly on the table – another sign of the sickness taking over me.
“Carnaxa doesn’t know yet,” I continue looking down at my daughter with a fierce love that makes my heart ache. “But she is the one who will finally finish what began with Khaysus and Atlas. The last piece in the puzzle I’ve been assembling unknowingly.”
“What do you mean, ‘finish’?” Natala asks, dread creeping into her voice.
I reach beneath the table and pull out my leather-bound journal – the same one I began when I first created this world, its cover worn with age. The cover still bears the symbols of the elements that started this world, only now a divot has been formed. A divot to unlockhermagic, her memories. To help her connect to me. The magic I took to reforge the world buried inside the stone – a stone her guard now carries.
“This contains – everything. My memories as Drahenå, the proper history of our world, and the prophecy that Carnaxa must fulfill.” I push it toward Natala, feeling the magic that she holds– that earth magic waiting to be awoken. “Keep it safe until Carnaxa is ready … I trust you to know when. Then, she will have all that she needs.”
“Upon the day the moon turns bright, the loyal heir’s death awakens eternal night. The waters will rise and the fires will blaze, then only the sacrificed can save. That prophecy?” Natala asks, as I simply nod in agreement. “But why can’t you tell her yourself?”
I smile sadly, accepting what I’ve already known. “Because … I will not be here much longer.”
Soon … so soon.
“Does Clennom know?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No.” My voice remains steady, though my eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Things must happen as they will. But I know she will do what is necessary. I know because I put the protections in place.” I think of the young boy I met from Shaston that was not Atlas’s heir … and know exactly how she must have two to hold her heart … a fail-safe for one another.
Below us, Carnaxa laughs as she shapes her sand castle, adding shells for windows. My beautiful daughter, unaware that herAtais slipping away. That her destiny is now written in the ancient journal sitting between Natala and me.
“The cycle is completing itself,” I say, unable to look away from Carnaxa. “Shaston grows stronger daily. I know magic will wake because soon … Carnaxa will have to go to that dreaded place, setting everything into motion.” I feel it – the weakening of the magical barriers that have held Khaysus and Atlas as his puppet at bay. “When Shaston comes for her … you’ll know it’s time.”
Natala places her hand on the journal, and I see her shiver slightly as she feels the vibration beneath her fingertips.
“I’ll keep it safe,” she promises.
sixteen
Shæmi Moon in The Lunar Year 3504
Thylas stands at my door, his back rigid in the newShayiuniform that gleams gold in the fading light. How quickly he’s risen through the ranks. The Captain believes he’ll become one of Antalis’s greatest soldiers, but when I look at him … I still see the small, trembling boy Carnaxa found washed up on our shores. I blessed him the best I could.
My daughter sits beside my bed, her fingers entwined with mine. I can feel her pulse against my skin – so strong, alive. Unlike mine.
“Carnaxa,” I whisper, my voice a mere shadow of what it once was. The sound scrapes against my throat like sand. “Hunny, I need to tell you something.”
I squeeze her hand, but there’s hardly any strength left in my fingers. This illness is consuming me from within. I’m realizing now that it will be a plague set across this world I never expected, but it’s too late to stop it now. I can feel it eating away.
