Page 42 of Fate

“Speaking of this ritual, you never really explained why we need to reach Askepollo instead of performing it in Hecalon.” Helia nods thoughtfully and looks around, wary of being overheard, before answering.

“No, I haven’t. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure except I know it is the ancient seat of Lunos. Her power will be greater there; as will yours. I assume that’s a part of it.” Helia’s tone goes as quiet as doldrums at sea. Is she contemplating her own future? An unknown abyss at the end of the path. I scoot around the fire and sit beside my commander. The bustle of camp fades into the background and I slip a hand on top of hers and squeeze.

“Helia.” My voice is quiet as I speak her name. “Do you know what the ritual actually is? You’ve alluded to sacrifice and having no purpose after.” I squeeze her hand again, giving us both courage. “Are you the sacrifice Helia?”

She doesn’t answer me. She stares deeply into the meandering flames, seeing something no one else can. Finally, a stony nod, jaw tight and muscles clenching. I have my answer.

Before either of us can say any more, Olena approaches bringing two bowls of stew, with only an arched eyebrow directed at our hands. Frankly, I could care less about decorum at the moment. She hands a bowl to each of us with an unreadable look, waiting expectantly.

Helia and I exchange glances, my eyes flicker toward her bowl, deferring to my commander. With an awkward smile Helia scoops some stew with a piece of flatbread and takes a bite. Chewing with no reaction, I shrug and follow suit, immediately choking on the food. Charcoal sludge coats my tongue as I struggle to down some water from a skin. Laughter erupts from the two women watching my plight, though Helia’s is tinged with the somber revelation a moment ago.

“I forgot how horrible your cooking is Olena. I thought you would have picked up a few things from Itho.” I watch in horror as Helia scoops another bite, Olena laughing as she walks off, though not before throwing me a look that says we’re going to talk.

“How in all the gods’ names are you eating that?” Helia continues to laugh around her third bite, drawing it out to enjoy the look on my face. Wiping the back of her hand across her smile, Helia gestures where Olena had been.

“When anyone joins us, we start them on cook duty and keep them there for a while. They meet and interact with everyone immediately; helps with any initial awkwardness. Olena’s cooking never improved though, so after two weeks we pulled her from that duty.”

“Two weeks?! You ate that for two weeks?” Helia chuckles, her mirth regaining a modicum of truth. A small smile creeps onto my face despite the disgust at imagining eating burnt sludge for that long. “Wait, if you knew how it would taste, why did you eat it? Why even let Olena cook again?” Helia’s temporary joy settles as she raises an eyebrow.

“Well, we should strive to improve ourselves, even if just to try. But to your question about eating her food, I’m their commander, their leader. Sometimes, you need to be the one leading the charge into the enemy lines and sometimes, you need to eat a disgusting bowl of stew.” Helia pushes herself off the ground and strides out into the camp to do her nightly rounds, pointedly ignoring our conversation from before. I lay out my bedroll next to the fire and slowly drift off to sleep, Helia’s words turning in my head.

She’s used to leading from the front, no risk nor sacrifice too great. Yet now, I’ve created doubt and fear. There must be a way.

***

The familiar pulse of water tickles the edge of my consciousness. Sure enough, I open my eyes to the lake—my mind’s lake I suppose. Or is this place an extension of Lunos’s power? Dusting off the sand, I rise, water gently washing my feet. There’s too much I don’t know. I am a field of wheat in a windstorm, caught up in a battle of divine proportions. Perhaps I can get some answers tonight.

I look up into the inky blackness of the night sky and see a sliver of the moon. I take in the surrounding and unease begins to worm its gnarled fingers into me. Fallen pines dot the forest tree line, with many others decaying or dropping their needles. The sand of the lake is no longer radiant and reflective of the now sparse moonlight. Only the water itself is seemingly untouched.

I turn inward to summon Lunos to this dying dreamscape, except, nothing happens. No rustle of wind or crack of thunder. No ripples across the silky surface of the water. My unease only grows with time as I wait in eerie silence, reaching out, knocking on the void.

A twisting shudders through the space, quicker than a breath, yet stretching out to infinity shooting nausea through me. The creaking of bent wood buffets me from the tree line at my back. The sand beneath my feet floats into the air suspended by some invisible force. The lake, normally calm and serene, whirls at the center creating an impossibly deep vortex. The moon, or what’s left of it, vibrates, hurting my eyes to follow its movements. Pressure clamps onto the sides of my head, forcing me to my knees.

Everything stills suddenly, returning to its previous state in the blink of an eye, the pressure at my temples subsiding. I open my eyes and I see Lunos before me, standing knee deep in the water, leaning heavily on her staff. No, not Lunos, but a desiccated husk of her former silvery luminance.

Her hair, once brushed and voluminous now lay matted and frayed, as though she had been through a storm. Her tall and full figure now hunches over, her bones showing where muscle and healthy curves used to lay.

I wade into the water quickly, surging to her side and taking her weight on my shoulder. With her staff as a crutch we slowly cross to the lakeside and Lunos collapses to the sand before pulling herself into a sitting position. I crouch in front of her, resting on my heels, trying to process the sight before me. Lunos catches her breath before meeting my eyes, the silvery luster now duller than a dirty pearl.

“Are you okay?”

Lunos croaks a laugh and arches an eyebrow at me while gesturing to herself; quite human of her. I blush, realizing I had just carried a goddess to the shore.

“I do not think I need to answer, but I appreciate your concern. I will not be able to stay long, much as I would like to.” Her wain laugh dies as she looks at me, question clear.

“We are marching to Askepollo. To your temple.” Lunos’s eyes close in relief, my words a balm for her aches. “We have some priests of yours along with us too. But I need to know; what is the ritual we must perform?”

Her eyes slowly open and meet mine; unreadable and abyssal. “You must hurry Skion. I am not sure I can hold out much longer.”

Fear threatens to wriggle into my heart; if a goddess as powerful as Lunos is struggling, I will be swept away in the wake.

“It’s Itho now. I am Skion no longer.” The strength in my words surprises me as Lunos offers a wan smile. She didn’t know did she? Not as omniscient then as we all are led to believe. Lunos’s definition of power rings true again. As my words leave my mouth, a subtle twisting ripples through the space again. Not as strong as before, but still nausea inducing. Lunos pulls herself upright with the aid of her staff and I follow suit.

“My time here is short. Heed me; you can return here to train more, but I will not be able to visit. You are on your own now.” She pauses closing her eyes and turning inward. Flickers of silver threads shimmer from her body, summoning what energy she can. Her eyes snap open with the speed of lightning, the familiar sheen of power blazing in her eyes, a measure of strength returned to her body.

“Come find me.” With a flash of silver power, Lunos vanishes, leaving a shockwave in her wake, pushing me backward.

I stay there, back flat on the sandbank, staring up into the unnatural sky trying furtively to wrap my head around the chaos I find myself in. True power is belief. The thought nags at me, poking, twisting, eating away at the back of my mind. Right up until it hits me. A single, simple thought. Basic, easy, obvious, and yet, terrifying. I close my eyes to return to the waking world, the beginnings of a plan forming.