Tristan grimaced. “An attempt to suppress the Creator’s influence, if this report is to be believed. It says here that Adelphinae is the Mother of all life on this planet—including both Fae and humans.
“The Goddess possesses not only the power of creation, but also the power of destruction. She can see into the past and future, occupies a plane of existence in which linear time does not exist. Ethyrios is her greatest experiment, an amalgamation of the sentient life she’s observed on other planets throughout the cosmos. It says here that she modeled Ethyrios after one called Gaia, set in motion a similar process of evolution but with a few extra magical touches. And that she has created—and destroyed—entire worlds in her quest to achieve utopia.”
A bone-deep shudder rocked through Cassandra. The destruction of an entire world? She suddenly—though only briefly—sympathized with the Empire’s quest to suppress the Goddess’s influence.
Tristan continued, “Adelphinae gifted elemental magics to the Fae upon their creation. The ability to manipulate wind, water, fire. Lightning.”
“Maksym,” Cassandra whispered. “What happened to the other powers?”
Tristan flipped to a new page. “Before the war, they had been fading for centuries. The last Fae to possess elemental magic besides wind—a fire-wielding Deathstalker—died nearly seven hundred years ago. A group of powerful Fae families—mine included—started chafing against the notion that humans were their equals, as Adelphinae’s dogma suggested. They raised up their own deities, the High Gods, and Adelphinae’s believers suspected that the disappearance of the other elemental powers was her punishment. Said the Goddess was angered that her creations would dare turn away from her.”
Cassandra frowned. “If she created both species, what gifts did she bestow upon the humans?”
Tristan turned to the end of the book. “Here. Humans once believed that mortality itself was a gift. That the Creator had blessed them with heightened emotions due to their shortened lifespan. In Ethyrios’s earliest days, that was why the Fae consumed human emotions—to commune with the Goddess, honor her gifts. It was a mutual act between the species, one of divine worship. And it only occurred on a few holy days throughout the year with willing human participants.
“But in the centuries before the war, as more and more Fae turned away from Adelphinae to worship the High Gods, the justifications for the practice shifted. Emotion feedings became less of a religious act and more of a means for the Fae to assert their dominance over humans. Many Fae had become addicted to the euphoria they experienced during the ritual, and decided to take it whenever they wished. They were careless about the safety of their prey. Scores of humans perished, even before the war. The death rate only dropped after the Accords were put in place, when Trophonios invented Delirium and peace was once again restored.”
Cassandra toyed with the end of her ponytail, a thought gnawing at her brain. “If the disappearance of elemental magic was Adelphinae’s punishment for the Fae, why didn’t she take awayallof them? Why leave the wind magic intact?”
Tristan chewed his lip. “Those families claimed it was because Windriders were the superior Fae sub-species, and that they weren’t beholden to the Goddess’s influence. They used it as an excuse to divide the continent into the six territories and establish themselves as the leaders.”
Cassandra’s gaze swept over the delicate pages. Though she recognized the swooping Aramaelish letters, she’d never learned the language of the Fae. “Is that what Adelphinae’s supporters believed?”
Tristan shook his head. “Her worshipers claim that a Windrider is the key to her return. There’s an allusion here to a prophecy that foretells her restoration.”
“Don’t suppose the prophecy is outlined in there, is it?”
Tristan closed the book with a frustrated grumble. “That’s the end of this text.”
Cassandra crossed her arms and sat back against her chair. “None of this explains how the other elemental magics are starting to appear again. If the Fallen Goddess has something to do with it, how have Maksym and his minions regained her favor? They don’t exactly share her beliefs that Fae and humans are equal.”
Tristan dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know.”
Cassandra plucked up the book she’d been perusing before Tristan’s interruption. She turned a page, then gasped.
“What?” He leaned in closer.
“Look at this illustration.” She pointed to a richly-detailed rendering of several Fae females dressed in white robes gathered around an obelisk carved with a familiar symbol—a circle bisected by a vertical line. “This young female, right here. Recognize her?”
Tristan bent over the book, squinting. “Is that—”
“Reena.” Cassandra ran her fingers over her friend’s face. “The caption says these are priestesses of Adelphinae. Did you know?”
“She’s never mentioned it. Hard to imagineReenaas a priestess. Even harder than imagining you as a Sister.” He traced a finger over her tattoo.
She snickered. “This was drawn during the early years of the war, before the Empire forced the priestesses to preach faith in the High Gods instead. And that symbol on the obelisk? The Windrider who burned the ship down marked it on the wall. Any idea what it means?”
“No clue.”
Cassandra flipped through the remaining pages in the book, but other than that single image, there was no more information on the symbol, the Fallen Goddess, her prophecy, or her priestesses. She expelled an annoyed grunt.
Tristan stroked her spine with his wing. “Guess we’ll be paying a visit to the Fang and Claw when we get home.”
Home. A complicated word for Cassandra these days. Wherewasher home?
The little house in Thalenn’s southern suburbs that she’d shared with her parents as a child? The dilapidated apartment in the slums that she and Mama had lived in before her mother’s obliviation? The Temple Cloisters?
None of those places felt like home in any real way. Merely random stops along her life’s journey. She hadn’t chosen a single one; they’d all been chosen for her. Even Tristan’s comfortable bungalow, with its enticing scenery, was more of a last resort than a conscious choice. Shaking off the rising anxiety inspired by her untethered lifestyle, she closed the book.
