4. Danai

Chapter 4

Danai

M y eyes roamed along the golden doors, taking in the detailed etching of the Phoenix that dominated their mirror-like surface. No one tended this chamber, yet the doors remained as shiny and perfect as the day they were laid on their hinges. I traced a finger along one of the Phoenix’s talons. I couldn’t remember touching the engraving before, and despite centuries of work with magic, it brought a boyish grin to my face.

Finally, tired of my rumination, I reached up to the plain metal plate on the wall and spoke the words, “E vesh Irina,” Take my life, Irina . As the doors swung open, I made a mental note to find a way to change the words required to enter this chamber. Irina was dead to me now—at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

I slipped inside, impatient for the doors to open, and was shocked to find a cloaked figure kneeling in prayer before the altar. As I stepped closer, the outline of a mask, feathers protruding where ears would normally be on an animal, marked the man as one of the Children.

“Child, turn and face me. What are you doing in this sacred place?” I demanded.

The figure didn’t move. The incessant muttering of the man’s prayer grew louder as I approached. When the prayer ended, the Child rose and turned to face me. The mask was of a snarling bear with what appeared to be an eagle’s wings for ears.

Lifeless eyes widened with recognition. The man bowed at the waist.

“Forgive me, High Lord. I did not know you would arrive today.”

My impatience grew. “I asked you a question, Child. Who are you, and why have you disturbed this place? None of your Order should even know of its existence.”

“Do you not know me, High Lord? I am the Elder of the Children.” The man’s head cocked to one side in confusion. “I felt our Mother’s passing and returned to her stone to mourn. It is a grievous end to our cause.”

Is that sadness in his voice? Can Children feel sadness? Or anything, for that matter?

“Irina failed us all,” I said with indifference, causing the Elder’s eyes to widen at my sacrilege. “I have come to release us from her grip.”

I brushed past the Elder and beyond the altar to stand before the onyx monolith that loomed over the chamber. Its lettering glittered in the magical light of braziers standing throughout. I reached into the pack I carried following the siege and removed a coil of thin rope, wrapping one end around the stone and tying it securely. I then walked back around the altar, releasing more rope with each step, until I stood inside the edge of the pool, again facing the monolith. Finally, I reached into my pack and removed the crown.

The Elder gasped and fell to his knees. “High Lord! How? Why do you have her crown?”

“ My crown,” I corrected, then placed the ancient relic on my head.

An intoxicating wave of power coursed through me, and the Gift of Enhanced Strength contained in one of the diamonds answered my call. I gripped the rope, braced my feet against the inner lip of the pool, and pulled with all of my magically enhanced might. By the fourth draw, sweat beaded across my brow, and the pulsing crimson of the diamonds flooded the room with an eerie, bloody glow. On the tenth pull, the monument teetered until it fell with a crash against the altar.

Both shrines to Irina’s legacy cracked and shattered.

The golden script burst into flame.

When the last of the fires died, once-majestic words were replaced by charred remnants.

I dropped the rope and wiped my brow, smiling at my handiwork. There would be no second return of the Empress Irina.

“High Lord, what have you done?” the Elder sobbed. “Our Holy Lady is lost to us now.”

I pitied the fool.

Even in his hollowed-out state, the man felt the loss of his mistress, the loss of his purpose.

In that moment, a brilliant idea struck.

“Elder, what do you know of the prophecies of the One?”

The man looked up. “Irina was the One foretold, and now she is lost. By your hand.”

“No.” I tilted my head. “You believe Irina was the One. She would be standing at the center of the continent, triumphant, had she been the One foretold. Clearly, she was not.”

“High Lord?”

“She was a false fork in the prophecy, however compelling we both may have thought her to be.”

The Elder blinked, pain and grief pouring through his masked face. But there was something else in his eyes, as well. Curiosity?

“What if the One returned, but he wasn’t Irina?”

The Elder staggered back, propping himself against the shattered altar. “High Lord, what you say . . . I . . . we would follow the One into the abyss, should she, or he , return.”

“Good. I will need your support, especially in the months to come, if we are to unify this land and fulfill the prophecy.”

The Elder’s eyes bugged out of his mask. “You cannot mean—”

“I mean exactly what you are thinking. I declare this to you, Elder of the Ancient Order of the Children, Keeper of the Flame: I am Danai Thorn, the One Returned , the One prophesied to unite these lands and people. Kneel before me and pledge your fealty.”

I called my Light, and the diamonds on the crown flared to brilliance. I hadn’t known that would work but figured the dramatic flair was worth a try.

The masked man threw himself to the floor and pressed his forehead to the stone.

“High Lord,” the man whispered.

“Enough of that. Address me properly,” I commanded, having no idea what title I should use but understanding the need to conform to the people’s beloved prophecy.

“Emperor Thorn,” the Elder muttered into the stone. “Your Most Serene Excellency.”

Hmm. Not what I would’ve chosen, but it does have a ring to it.

“Rise and remove your mask. The time for skulking is over. The Children will continue to wear the holy robes, but your masks must be cast aside if the people are to accept you as their Priests.”

The Elder rose and removed his mask. His hands moved so deliberately that I thought the act might have been painful for him; but what surprised me more was the smooth, unmarred face that stared up once the mask fell away. The Elder appeared to have seen only thirty winters. His skin was pale and smooth from years hidden beneath the bear’s snarl.

I nodded once in approval. “Elder, I name you leader of the Temples across my lands and charge you with preparing the way for my return. Spread word of the prophecy’s fulfillment, and ensure the people know the One will restore order and might.”

The new High Priest bowed low. “It shall be done, Excellency.”

I made to leave but looked back and scanned the room again, intending it to be my final farewell to Irina’s resting place. A glint of silver from the monolith’s rubble caught my eye. I climbed across the broken stone to discover an unbroken silver staff embedded in the heart of the black stone.

Irina’s staff?

I reached out and touched the ancient weapon my protégée had crafted a thousand years ago.

How many times had I seen her wield that staff?

How many times had I wondered at its power?

She never told me its purpose, or what Gift might have been Enchanted into its length, but I planned to find out. A grim smile curled my lips as I grasped the metal and it slid from its hiding place.

Without thinking, I turned and pointed the staff at the High Priest.

Calling my Light, magic flowed from my spirit into the cold metal. A thrill of life coursed through the silver staff. Unable to contain the raw energy, the staff bellowed white flame that engulfed the man. Living fire crawled up and down his body, yet he did not burn. His lips parted as if to scream, but the magic rushed in and swelled his chest. When his mouth closed, no trace of the magical flames remained.

The man blinked up at me and quirked a brow, as if something perplexing was taking place.

I took a step forward. “What are you feeling? Speak to me!”

The man opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged.

And then it started.

I staggered back a step.

Understanding replaced terror, understanding of the true Gift that rested in my hands, the Gift that would place me on the throne at last.