Chapter 37

Karys

Sunrise finally came.

I rose to greet it alone. Dravyn's side of the bed was cold, his scent faint. But I could still feel his magical energy nearby, so I knew he remained in the palace.

I cleaned myself up and dressed quickly, trying not to dwell too much on what the day held. I would get through it one step at a time, by only focusing on one step at a time—starting with leaving this room.

Easy enough.

Except, I froze at the threshold, overcome by a sudden compulsion to get every step between now and my meeting with my sister correct.

In the past, I could usually shake this sort of fear off by being careful about how I stepped into certain places, making sure to lead with the correct foot, to hold my body in the correct posture.

But now a new, even more ridiculous and illogical fear consumed me: What if I needed to change the way I moved between places? What if that was the first step to fixing all the things I wanted to fix—through this meeting with my sister and beyond—and I got it wrong?

The questions kept repeating, growing more complicated, spiraling into a paralyzing chorus of what ifs.

What if, what if, what if…

Sweat beaded on my forehead. The floor was rising up, threatening to tip me over. I wanted to crumple to that floor, but I braced an arm against the door frame and I made myself stay on my feet.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, or how long I would have stood there if Dravyn hadn't found me.

I heard his voice say my name. Felt him stepping closer. I couldn't seem to shake my paralysis and look up to meet him, though; I was completely frozen. The only thing I could see were blurry, horrible images of all the wrong choices I might make, and what devastation might rain down on me because of them.

"Left," Dravyn said, softly.

My rushing thoughts slowed to a gentle whirring.

"Every time in the past," he said, "it's always been left."

I managed to blink away some of the horrid images flashing through my mind. To lift my eyes and see what was directly in front of me instead. And what I saw was Dravyn staring back at me, clutching a pewter mug full of what smelled like some sort of herbal tea.

I swallowed hard. "And what if I'd gone right?" A mere mention of the possibility sent another thread of fear spiraling through my gut. "In the past, what if I hadn't led with my left foot?"

He considered it—truly considered it, where so many in my past had merely laughed at me when I started asking questions like these. "Then maybe you wouldn't be here. Maybe we never would have met. Maybe everything would be different."

The thought of us never meeting sent a shock straight to my core—a visceral feeling even stronger than the fear currently rooting me in place.

"But you've survived every moment up to this point, even if you set out on the wrong foot," he pointed out.

Yes.

I had.

I stood up a little straighter, prying my hand from the door frame, finger-by-finger. Dravyn offered me the mug he held, and I managed to make myself take it. The solid warmth of it helped ground me more fully in the present, allowing me to finally step into the hallway.

My fear didn't fully subside as we walked. I found myself wanting to count everything we passed—the light fixtures, the floor tiles, the busts of famous Galithian leaders—to make certain the number of them was correct.

I didn't even know what the ‘correct' number of these things was. I just needed to double-check things. To control, to hold on to something this morning, before I fully stepped into this day where it felt like so many things could slip from my grasp.

I finally found solace by counting the paintings we walked by, then going a step further and organizing them in my mind according to the style they represented. It calmed me enough that I was soon able to manage more coherent, purposeful thoughts, and, eventually, a conversation.

"You're up early," I said, glancing toward Dravyn. "A sunrise breakfast with your brother?"

He smiled wryly at my hopeful tone. "Sorry to disappoint you, but no."

"Where were you, then?"

"I went to check in with Mairu before she started to worry about us too much. And also to remind Valas that we needed him to be paying attention in case we needed his help. And after that…" His voice trailed off. He took a deep, steadying breath.

Curiosity ignited within me, but I didn't want to pry my way into his mind for answers.

Luckily, I didn't have to; his thoughts became clear a moment later—so clear that I suspected he wanted me to see them. That he was showing me what he couldn't bring himself to speak of.

And what I saw was an image of polished stones bearing the crest of the Galithian royal family. They stood on a hilltop dotted with trees with long, flowing branches. A breeze stirred through the memory, swaying the branches and fluttering the navy and silver-colored banners that were planted in an even line behind the stones.

"You went to visit your siblings' graves, didn't you?"

"And those of my parents."

"Alone?"

"You were finally resting well. I didn't want to disturb you."

I frowned, even though the answer was expected. It was who he was at the very core of his being, after all—he would carry the weight of the entire world alone if given the chance.

But the fact that he'd actually gone to visit those graves…it was surprising. A step forward, I wanted to think. Maybe he'd laid some of that weight on his shoulders down while he was there.

I desperately hoped so.

"I did speak briefly to my brother as well," he added after we'd walked in silence for some time. "Not a cheerful breakfast conversation, however. I was curious about what became of the other elvish prisoners being kept alongside Cillian."

"And?"

"None of them survived."

A cold sweat washed over me.

I went back to counting and organizing the various works of art we walked by until my pulse stopped racing and I felt like I could speak clearly again.

"It wasn't your fault, you know. What happened with Cillian."

He said nothing to this.

He had apologized over and over again about it already. Now that we were here, staying directly in the shadow of his family's lives and deaths, it occurred to me that he was probably struggling not to draw parallels between what had happened with Cillian and what had happened with his siblings.

He hadn't been able to save them from death by elvish poison, either.

He was the one who kept apologizing for Cillian, but I was the one who felt guilty now. Powerless to undo the deaths he'd witnessed. To unbreak his heart. All I could do was forgive him and hope it would be enough.

I said none of these things out loud. I only took his hand as we walked, squeezing it as tightly as I could, as I thought of our conversation from the other day. Of what I'd told him, whether he was listening or not—that he was worthy of forgiveness.

You have to forgive yourself for the ones you couldn't heal, I thought. The ones you couldn't save.

If today went well, if we could somehow kindle the start of a peace between all the realms and races, then we would end up saving far more than we'd lost.

His hand eventually squeezed mine back; hopefully because he was listening.

We said nothing else until we reached the small office where Fallon had stationed the soldiers who would be helping to facilitate our meeting with Savna. After a brief exchange of information, our helpers filed out of the room, most of them grim-faced and looking less-than-enthusiastic about having been selected for this mission.

I tried not to let their expressions get to me.

I didn't need enthusiasm today; just cooperation.

Dravyn pulled me aside before we left, directing my attention to a small box perched on the edge of a desk, beside the city maps we'd been poring over during our planning.

"The other thing I collected this morning," he said. "It's a gift that Mairu brought me—given to her by the Healing God. Rieta helped fashion it, so it should fit as well as the other things she's made for you."

Inside the box was one of the most beautiful pieces of armor I'd ever seen—a coat of mail that shimmered between shades of white and gold, much like the Healing God's eyes. It flowed as easily as water between my fingers, weighing next to nothing at all, yet I could sense a mighty power radiating softly from it. The same quiet, understated power Armaros carried into every room he entered.

"It will offer protection against any weapon that might try to pierce you, obviously, but more importantly: it's infused with the Healing God's magic—specifically with spells that will help counter the effects of anti-divine venom. The same spells he used to reverse some of the damage I sustained in Mindoth." He rubbed his shoulder. The marred skin there was fully covered by his shirt, but I still winced at the memory of the way his scars had looked in the moonlight last night.

"Hopefully you won't have to make use of this gift," he said. "But I'm not willing to take any chances."

We reached the gatehouse I'd chosen for our meeting point after a quick horseback ride through the waking city.

Even as we left the more crowded areas behind, I could feel all the stares of that city against my back. Could hear the people's whispers, the foundational blocks of rumors being laid. No one had approached us—they didn't dare, given the royal livery of our horses and the small army of guards accompanying us—but the weight of their attention weighed heavily.

Fallon's words echoed in my mind.

If you are wrong, you will have put my city and its people in a very dangerous position. I just hope you realize that.

I gripped my horse's reins with sweaty palms, leading her to the hitching post behind the gatehouse. My lungs could not seem to inhale enough air no matter how hard I tried to focus on my breathing.

The guards were now a quarter mile behind me, forming a barricade to ensure this meeting would not be interrupted. No city folk would leave through this route. No one would enter through it.

The guards remained close enough to intervene quickly, if needed—and Dravyn was even closer—but the gatehouse itself was secluded, neutral ground that only Savna and I would step into.

Exactly what I had requested from the King of Galizur.

The only problem was that my sister was nowhere to be seen.

The messenger who had delivered the particulars about our meeting to Savna was here, however. And after interrogating him several times, I finally concluded that he'd done his job adequately. The meeting place and time had been made clear. Savna knew the way, she knew the stakes, she knew my expectations.

She would be here.

I just had to be patient—not a quality I was known for.

How many times had I waited for her to show up, only to be disappointed? Of course that was what my heart wanted to retreat to—that feeling of disappointment and betrayal. I hated that feeling. But it was familiar. And so it was comforting.

I forced myself to keep still, to sit in the discomfort for once and simply… wait .

And to my surprise, she actually showed up.

She rode into view just as the sun slipped behind a mass of gathering rain clouds. Two riders accompanied her, each one bearing a small white flag.

It took everything I had not to break into a run to immediately go greet her.

That was not the plan.

I held my position, merely watching as the two flag-bearing riders dismounted and held perfectly still next to their horses, their symbols of our temporary truce clutched tightly in their fists.

Savna stepped forward alone.

This was what we had agreed upon—me and her and no one else.

Dravyn was less settled on this plan than I was. He was out of sight, but still close enough that he must have seen Savna arriving, because his voice was suddenly in my head, as loud and clear as if he was standing right beside me.

If any part of this starts to look threatening to you, I am intervening. I won't be separated from you again .

I nodded. I'm fine. My magic is fully recovered. Ready to carry me away quickly, if need be.

I held out my hand and summoned a tiny, perfectly controlled flame into my palm, hoping he could see it from wherever he stood. Hoping it would reassure him.

Be careful .

I nodded and started to walk toward my sister.

We met before the barred door of the gatehouse—a door that had been left partially ajar for our use. I didn't go inside right away. I couldn't.

I was too busy staring.

The first thing I noticed were her eyes. The dark circles underneath, the way their usual bright blue had dulled to the color of murky water. She hadn't slept since we'd parted ways. I was certain of it.

The second thing I noticed was the bruise around her neck.

I had a vivid memory of the other night—of Andrel's hand grabbing her throat as she tried to protect me from him.

It took everything I had to keep from igniting more fire in my hands—enough fire to swallow us both up, along with this stupid gatehouse and all my stupid plans for peace talks that suddenly seemed pointless. Impossible.

Are you okay? Dravyn's voice somehow cut through the fury that was slowly encasing me, suffocating out all other sound and sensation.

I had to answer quickly, or I knew he would intervene—which would likely be disastrous.

Yes, I lied. I'm fine.

Then I noticed a third thing: A fresh scar ran along Savna's face, slicing across her jaw and dipping down toward the hollow of her throat. The slash stopped just short of the life-giving arteries of her neck. As if he'd been aiming to kill.

"I know what you're thinking." My sister gave me a grim smile. "But it's not as bad as it looks."

The rage that overtook me was so intense, so all-consuming, that I didn't trust myself to speak through it. I closed my eyes and willed another wave of calmness to overtake me.

I'm fine , I assured Dravyn, before he could ask.

"You've been bearing countless scars and bruises on your own for years," Savna said. "Now we're a bit more even, that's all."

"That doesn't make it any better," I said, fiercely. "How could you think I would—"

"Is this really what you summoned me here to discuss?"

I snapped my mouth shut.

"It's not, is it?"

"No."

"Focus, then."

It irked me to be ordered around by her—like I was still just her kid sister, nothing more—but I also knew she was right. There was no shortage of things we could spend the next several hours raging about. This wouldn't fix anything, however.

"So here I am," she prompted. "But why am I here?"

I jerked my head toward the gatehouse. She moved first. I managed to follow her lead, and once we were inside, I took a deep breath and rattled off the speech I'd rehearsed before I had a chance to freeze up and overthink it.

"The King of Galizur is planning something," I told her. "Retaliation for Mindoth, and for all the transgressions the elves have made against this kingdom before that. A battle to end all others. And Andrel led me to believe he has something similar planned from your side of things."

She neither confirmed nor denied the last part. She was listening intently, though, so I kept talking.

"If we let these sides clash, I fear there will be no coming back from it. This realm will be devastated by such a war. Elves, humans— both sides will be ruined."

The room felt small, cramped and dark as it was with all the uncertain, heavy things between us. The only light came from a single square, barred window. Savna moved toward this broken sunlight, but stopped short of it, as if she didn't want to risk being seen by anyone outside.

She lowered her voice when she finally replied—even though we were surrounded by thick stone with no one close enough to hear us. "What do you want from me, Karys?" Exasperation filled her voice, yet there was a genuine plea underneath it.

Tell me what to do.

Tell me how we can fix this.

"I have the king almost willing to listen to my advice," I said. "And he may be willing to reconsider his plans for attack, too, if I can convince him that you might do the same. But I can't do it on my own. I need you to speak to him."

She shook her head, unconvinced.

"I know you, Savna," I pressed. "I haven't been there to watch it happen, but I know you have followers who would march with you to whatever ending—you were always the one who could rally others. You have as much control over the rebellion factions as Andrel does."

"I don't think we have enough to stand against the ones who are more loyal to Andrel."

"But you have me, too." I stepped closer, effectively cornering her. "And the divine court I belong to as well—"

She scoffed at the mention of the gods.

"The king is a potential ally, too," I insisted.

"Yes, but Andrel—"

" He killed Cillian ," I blurted out, frustration taking hold of my tongue and turning it sharp. "He killed every hostage taken that night from Mindoth. Snuck poison into their water so they couldn't spill any secrets. Does that not make you want to at least try to stand up to him?"

Her gaze was wild as it fixed on mine, flashing between fear, grief, anger—all the emotions I'd felt since learning the news, all at once.

The one emotion I didn't see was shock.

She didn't look as surprised by the news of Cillian's death as I thought she might be.

Realization crawled over my skin. I barely resisted the urge to try and claw the needling sensation from my body.

"…You were already aware of what happened in Fallon's dungeons, weren't you?"

She averted her eyes.

"The sister I knew would have already done something about it."

"It's more complicated than all the things you once knew."

"But you know something has to change. You're destroying each other. Whatever grand plans you all had for reshaping this world are gone."

She shoved past me, making as if for the door, but stopped at the sound of my voice.

"You fought against him once already. You risked everything to help me escape from our house the other night. What's changed in the days since then?"

"Yes, I fought." She threw a glare over her shoulder at me. "But that was for you . And it was a moment of desperation. I don't know if the others will fight as I did. Even the ones loyal to me…it's a risk. One that might not pay off for either of us."

"Will you keep fighting, at least?"

She seemed startled by the question.

"Savna." Her name cracked as it came out. My throat was so brutally, painfully dry.

Slowly, she turned to face me once more.

"Just answer the question."

She breathed in deep. Exhaled. Over and over. Finally, she whispered, "I want to fight with you. For you."

"You want to. But something is holding you back."

"I want to," she repeated, looking me dead in the eyes with a haunting sort of focus. "But I haven't been able to get the taste of smoke from my tongue. I still smell it whenever I breathe in too deeply. I see it when I close my eyes—the land outside of our house, our childhood home, all of it… burning ."

"They were empty fields."

" This time. But fire spreads if left unchecked."

"They were fires he sent to help guide me back home."

"…Home?" The word rolled like a boulder from her lips, heavy and clumsy, hitting the ground between us and cracking it open. The start of yet another chasm between us.

I'd realized it months ago: That Dravyn was home for me now. This was the first time I'd ever said it out loud to her, though—or to anyone, maybe.

It was painful to watch the way my sister shrunk away from my words. But I didn't take them back. I wouldn't apologize for moving on. For changing. Not anymore.

She collected herself and calmly asked, "Is that how you were able to vanish into the flames? You really are a divine being, now, aren't you?" Her eyes glazed over, as if she was reliving the memory as we spoke. "There one moment, gone up in smoke the next…it was…frightening to watch."

"Burning yourself away can be surprisingly therapeutic," I muttered.

"Fire spreads," she said, again. "And it destroys things." She blinked back into awareness, and her gaze jumped to the burn scars covering my face. She looked away just as quickly, as if she hadn't meant to let her eyes wander so carelessly over this ugly reminder of our childhood games and mistakes.

Months ago it would have been me looking away first, trying to keep her from staring.

Now I kept still.

I called attention to those ugly marks, even, effortlessly flexing my magic enough that it brought divine symbols to my skin and set the old scars alight.

I was no longer ashamed to let these things burn brightly.

Proof of my power, not my mistakes.

"It does destroy," I agreed. "But it can also forge and reshape things. Weld them back together. And there is more to me than the fire he gave me. More to my power, my plans, my story—all of it. And I can prove it; I just need you to trust me."

Her eyes slowly returned to mine. She stared at me and my glowing scars for a long moment. Inhaled deeply, and said, "You've changed." Her lips quivered with emotion before splitting into a crooked smile. "When did you become the brave one, while I became the coward?"

"You aren't a coward. You've only been doing what you thought you needed to do to survive." I fought the urge to reach for the scar near my heart—the one scar, the one mistake I was still struggling to make peace with. "I know the feeling. It takes courage to survive that. And it will take more courage to change things."

The clouds outside moved, more of them sliding over the sun, taking away what little light we had. The birds chattered louder in the sudden shadow, and a breeze stirred—everything felt like it was shifting.

Whether for better or worse, I wasn't sure.

"I'm trying, Karys," she whispered. "I am. I just don't know how to start. How to see beyond surviving the next battle, or trust your gods the way you do."

The chasm between us was cracking wider—dangerously wider—while the edges of it threatened to cave in.

I leapt across it anyway, taking her hand as I said, "You could just…meet them. Meet the God of Fire, at least. Maybe that would help."

She was quiet for a painfully long moment before she replied. "He's close by?"

A corner of my mouth lifted. "He's hardly let me out of his sight since everything that happened at our old house."

"Well," she said after another pause, forcing an obvious lightness into her tone, "I suppose it's a good thing you have someone looking after you, if I can't be around to keep you out of trouble." Despite her light tone, her expression remained wary, her eyes darting to the window over and over as if anticipating a fiery entrance from the god in question.

"He isn't going to smite you," I said dryly. "I won't let him."

"As if I'd let him," she said with a smirk, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and striding toward the doorway without hesitation. Back to her usual confident self, just like that.

Once outside, she surveyed the companions who had ridden in with her—both of whom remained on the distant hilltop—and she gave them a signal of some kind.

Then she whistled low, calling her horse.

I watched her adjusting the saddle and headgear with an anxious ball growing in the pit of my stomach; she hadn't really given me an answer, had she?

Was this it?

Were we done, just like that?

She swung into the saddle. I trailed to her side, staring up at her just like I had so many times when I was young. Only, I wasn't begging her to me with her, now.

She looked ready to bolt. To set off on whatever mission awaited her.

I tried to make peace with the possibility, to steel myself against the oncoming hurt.

But she didn't leave.

"This God of Fire…he was the younger brother of the king in his mortal life, wasn't he?" She spoke without really looking at me, and continued without giving me a chance to answer. "So I likely would have met him eventually, anyway, as long as I have business with Fallon. We might as well get it over with."

The knot in my stomach loosened a bit.

I focused my thoughts in Dravyn's direction once more, summoning him as calmly as I could.

Almost instantly, he emerged onto the road in the distance, on foot, leading both of our horses. A burst of warmth flared through the air as our gazes met, causing my sister to gasp.

"You'll get used to that," I said.

Dravyn cooled the air as quickly as he'd heated it. He'd once again attempted to look more human than usual, too, but the rising sun at his back—even as diluted as it was by the gathering clouds—ruined any chance of that. He was power and perfection in this realm and every other, and everyone present knew it.

My sister drew in a long, shaky breath as she watched him approach. Her horse nervously stamped its feet and attempted to turn them once more toward the other elves, but she refused to let it. She sat tall, her shoulders drawn back, her chin lifted.

I stood perfectly still, watching the meeting with a mixture of hope and horror.

I had faced the wrath of gods. Solved their sadistic trials and tests. I had traveled between worlds and battled against armies of all shapes and sizes. Had flown with wings made of fire, wielded weapons of the same flame, endured betrayal and poison and countless other things…

But this.

This was the most anxious I remembered feeling in a very long time. Maybe because my hopes for this meeting were so high that—should this experiment fail—I felt like the fall back to earth might kill me.

Savna spoke first, kicking her horse into a trot and riding closer to appraise the deity approaching us. " Dra' Zerachiel , God of Fire and Forging, Destroyer of Worlds and—" she threw a glance in my direction "—Captor of Innocent Elven Maidens."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

I held my breath.

He rolled the tension from his shoulders and said, "Just Dravyn will suffice."

The breath left me in a soft, slow sigh.

My sister glared at him in much the same way I imagined I had done during our first meeting. A glare full of complicated, conflicting things—a generational hatred and fear tempered by a need to cooperate for the sake of bigger, more important things.

Finally, a corner of her lips edged up in that confident, familiar way of hers. "Dravyn it is, then."

Dravyn gave her a cordial nod before letting his gaze shift to me, searching my face for signs of anything amiss, still questioning whether I was truly okay after the tense meeting I'd just endured in the gatehouse.

I hurried forward and took the reins from his hand. "Our royal guard awaits us," I reminded him as I swung onto my horse's back. "As does the king."

Both he and my sister still looked wary of one another, but neither one objected.

And somehow, despite all the forces battling against it, the three of us set off together toward the palace.