“And if the results are promising, then yes,” Seren adds. “We want you to bring back a god. Arawn the Mighty, specifically.With his power, we could fight back the human armyandfinally overcome our long-standing enemies. It would end to the war. All of it.”
Stunned, I sit back in my chair.
An end to the war.
I have never allowed myself to imagine such a thing. There are a few constants in this world. The sun rises in the east. The wind blows across the hills. The rebels attack the city on the anniversary of our gods’ deaths.
And we are at war.
It began long before I was born, and I’ve always assumed it would rage long after I’m gone. If it ever ended, I thought it would only be because there was no one left to swing a blade.
The possibility stirs something in me.Hope.But that hope is tangled in brambles.
Osian made me swear that I would never use my magic on him. And now that I have, he’s being poked and prodded like some rare specimen, denied even the comfort of his own bed. He did not agree to this.
Guilt floods over me.
“Can’t you research all this without keeping Osian trapped in the lab?” I dare to ask.
“We do not know how long your magic can sustain him,” Lowri replies. “It’s essential he remain under constant supervision.”
“Is there no other way?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
Seren and Lowri are not wrong. With a living god on our side, a god who was once renowned in battle, we might survive. Without him, our destruction feels inevitable.
“Well,” Seren says slowly, exchanging a glance with Lowri, “it’s interesting that you ask.”
“We do hate to experiment on any member of the Order,” Lowri continues for her. “The well-being of you all is, of course, our priority. So there is…an alternative.”
A small pause.
“But it is dangerous. And we cannot guarantee success,” they say in unison.
I sit a little straighter. “I’ll do almost anything to get Osian out of the lab.”
“We suspected as much,” Lowri says with a small smile. “Which is why we’ve drawn up an assignment for you. If you accept, you’ll need to leave immediately.” She turns to shuffle papers on the desk, exceedingly calm, as if this moment has been planned for months.
It annoys me more than it should. The High Swynwragedd do not play games, especially not with matters of this magnitude. And yet I still feel as if my puppet strings are being tugged.
“I trust you know of the exile living along the coast,” Seren says without preamble.
“Taliesin Wynn,” I reply automatically. He’s the one who threatened to bury Caer Draen in ice if we refused his demands. And he has the magic to do it. A chill snakes down my spine. “Why?”
“We would prefer to experiment on him rather than on your Osian,” Seren says, far too calmly for the horror her words suggest. “To do so, you would need to go to him, kill him, and then resurrect him before bringing him to us.”
Silence crashes down around me. Surely I am still sleeping, for her words are as nonsensical as any dream-addled babbling. And yet when I blink, she is still there with her hands laced on the table and an eerie smile curving her lips.
If it’s not a dream, it’s a nightmare I can’t escape.
Not that I’ve dreamed in years.
“Excuse me?” I manage.
“I know it sounds mad,” Seren continues, “but we have long hoped to use him for something useful. We simply weren’t certain what that would be until now.”
I open my mouth, then snap it shut.
“If you’re concerned about his power, you need not be. His location is heavily warded,” Lowri adds.
