The leather armor over the midnight blue uniform and black cloak should look out of place on my body. But somehow, it feels more like me than the dresses I’ve worn my whole life. I don’t have time to dissect that sentiment because, as I stare in the mirror, red eyes appear behind me, peering out from beneath a black hood.
I jump, but I don’t cower. This time, I’m tired—of having no answers, of being in pain, of missing Neris and Father. “Who are you?” I ask aloud.
The eyes blink once, twice, then an ethereal voice fills my mind:I am the Forge. I am Fury. My patience grows thin.
“What do you want from me?”
I want you to assist the Heirs of Dusk and Embers. I want you to smite the oppressors.
“Who are the oppressors?”
The red eyes morph into slits like shards of ice. The voice that fills my mind is hollow and feels like spiders walking down my spine.The gods cannot rise if the Heirs remain.
An infuriated growl makes the hair stand on the back of my neck as the harsher voice speaks up again.The gods must die!
There’s a conflict of ice and lava within me. I speak directly to the eyes like ice, my voice shaking as much as my hands. “And who are you?”
I am Winter.
The younger, flaming voice laughs.You are nothing.Then to me:Stop the oppressors who seek to return the gods to their former glory. It will destroy the mortal realm.
It will refresh the mortal realm,says the icy voice.Balance will be restored.
Save the Heirs.The fiery voice reverberates, and I swear heat singes my skin.
I wrap my arms around my body as the fingers of Winter caresses my face before heat streaks across it.When the time comes, Winter cannot save you, mortal. It is Fury that will give you strength. And when the time comes, call to me.
“Stop!” I shout, turning to face the ever-changing figure. But there’s nothing there.No onethere.
I stumble over to my desk and open the drawer, grabbing a vial of clear valbane with shaky hands. As it slips down my throat, I try to forget the voices. I have a mission to carry out.
Bring back the Shadow Wielder.
My heart catches in my throat as I remember the curly-haired woman from my dreams. She doesn’t seem evil, but she terrifies me nevertheless. She knows about the stone. She knows about the calling that I constantly push away.
The guards in the hallway ignore me as I hurry through the corridors. I don’t stop until I’m standing outside a door with goldlettering that spellsLibrary. I push the door open and stand there, staring. I’ve seen many luxurious private libraries, but this one is far grander than any of those. My eyes roam over the floor-to-ceiling shelves and the foliage painted high up, close to the domed ceiling. Once I’m able to snap myself out of the awe, I move farther into the library. I browse the shelves, looking for a book about the pantheon. Until, at last, I find one and pull it from the shelf.
I flip through the pages with the book braced against my forearm until I land on an illustration of a figure in armor, a fiery axe, and eyes that seem to blaze despite it being drawn only in black ink. Below the image is a word written in bold lettering.
Damarlach. The goddess of war and blacksmithing. Of revenge and fury.
I flip through a few more pages and come upon the image of a cloaked figure.
Magdin. Goddess of winter; the veiled one.
What do the gods want with me? Cold terror wraps around my throat, squeezing, and it’s as though I cannot breathe. I drop the book and run out of the library, needing to get outside, needing the grass beneath my feet to ground me. Two damngoddesseshave been speaking to me? Fighting over me? I’m stopped as I make it to a door that leads outside.
The guard stares down at me. “Sorry, Miss, we cannot let you out of the fortress.”
I can’t seem to calm my breathing as I turn away. I’m not even sure where I’m going until I’m nearing the infirmary. Neris. I just need to talk to Neris. But as I barge into that room, I nearly run into an older woman with dark eyes and greying hair. She steps back, and my knees weaken, forcing me to press my hand against the wall to remain upright.
“Radika?” I whisper.
She holds a finger to her lips, then studies me for a moment before she says, “Ah, Gwyneth. I see you’ve joined the Zenith.”
“What are you doing here?”
She winks at me and steps toward the door. “I gave Neris one last healing before she was discharged from the infirmary.”
