“Much of what you desire will hinge on the Rite of Judgment. In a few weeks’ time when you stand before the city to fire the arrow into the Destroyer’s arms—and if you succeed—the Council will have no means to deny your credibility.”
Until they find the next Rite to throw into your path. Fire enough arrows and one is sure to strike home.
Auryn’s could still taste the ash of the Council’s “gift” in her mouth—the massive, clumsy bow meant to humiliate her.
“Then I will stand,” she said. “But on my terms.”
Shu’Khan’s fingers stilled. “The terms are not yours to set.”
“Aren’t they?” Kailorien’s voice was low, but it filled the hall. He emerged from the darkness like a specter of vengeance, clad in full aethersteel, his long hair bound in a war knot. His footsteps rang on marble until he came to stand at her side. The air shifted, crackling, as two vast powers filled the same space.
The Sovereign Flame and the Resh’Agar.
Kailorien’s hand came to rest on the bow at her back, fingers brushing the Roanwood as his gaze locked on Shu’Khan. “You will not interfere with the ceremony, brother. I will invoke the Rite of Scars again, if I must. The Council’s decree will be void. She will fire with her own bow—not the one they chose for spectacle and humiliation.”
Auryn's heart leapt into her throat. She whirled around, her entire body breaking into cold sweat at Kailorien's threat.
No, Kail! I will not allow you to—
Easy, starlight. Breathe. Trust me.
The air tightened like a drawn string. Shu’Khan’s eyes narrowed, but his hands stayed steepled. Auryn turned back to face Shu'Khan, fighting to maintain her composure. She was not alone here. Not this time.
“It was never Our intent to interfere,” Shu’Khan said. “Our Sovereign Star knows she could have come to Us for such approval.” His gaze lingered on Kailorien. “To invoke the Rite of Scars for this is… premature.”
“How so?” Kailorien asked, voice flat.
“We grant her the privilege to use the bow of her choice. Keep your Rite, Iridias. It is a blade that may be drawn only once in a century. You may find the next cut the Council demands… drawsdeeper.”
Kailorien’s scowl darkened, but Auryn’s hand found his arm. “You are generous, Father. Your foresight may yet serve us.”
Shu’Khan smiled—a rare and terrible thing. “You see how Ourilpharadefers to Our wisdom, Iridias? You might learn from her.”
He turned, floating back to his seat. Before settling, he cast one final glance over his shoulder.
“We endure your temper because it can be turned upon Our enemies,” Shu’Khan said, gaze narrowing. “But rage does not make a ruler, Iridias—it makesa weapon. And weapons do not lead. They arewielded.”
Vargrún cackled in Auryn's thoughts.
Until they tire of that fate, and they use the edge they were given to cut a new path. Even more amusing when that cut cleaves straight through the flesh of its creator.
Without intending to, Auryn leaned until her shoulder brushed Kailorien’s arm.
You arenota weapon to be wielded. Neither am I. Let his words echo, but do not let them linger.
Kailorien leaned. Just a breath to the right. Just enough so she could feel his arm brush back against her shoulder.
His words ring true. I was forged to be a weapon and a vessel for the Shields. I lived as such until you opened my eyes to what I truly wanted. Though I am a weapon,I have grown tired of that fate…
Auryn’s heart skipped a beat. Unable to check herself, she glanced at Kailorien. Had she imagined it, or had he just used the same words as Vargrún in her mind? A tremor rippled through the Bond, and for a moment she could not tell if it was Kailorien’s warmth or Vargrún’s claws scratching against her awareness.
She turned back to Shu’Khan quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed her lapse in control.
“What is your will, Father?” she asked, raising her chin.
Shu’Khan did not look at her again. Still silent, he smoothed his robes to perfection.
“Leave Us,” he said at length. “Prepare for the Path of Fire, Sokâr. That should be your sole focus now. If any mistakes are made in the ceremony, the Rite of Judgment will not proceed.”
