Chapter 39

Karys

The fields outside of my old home were burning again.

And this time, I had set the fires.

I'd needed to release. To get rid of some of the magic eating away at my insides—or else I would have done far worse than the small massacre I'd committed back in the tree-lined grove in Altis.

We'd ended up back at my old house because it was the easiest place to go. Because it was in the mortal realm and still blanketed in the magical residue from the fires Dravyn had set days ago. Despite how passionately I'd sworn to myself that I would never return here, there had been no better choice; I wasn't sure how Savna would fare if I tried to carry her into Nerithyl, especially now that she was injured.

Injured.

Not dead.

Over and over, I kept reminding myself of that. Telling myself that it was not over. They had not killed her. They had not killed Dravyn. They had not killed me. They wouldn't kill me. I was a goddess. I was fire and fury, perfection and power, and this was not my ending.

But my sister…

Of course they had gone after her.

I should have known I was putting her at risk, asking her to meet me. I should have been better prepared to protect her.

But no.

I was a fool who couldn't even protect my own flesh and blood, much less save the realms from the wars threatening them, as I'd hoped to do. I'd only ended up killing more. Causing a bigger mess.

I took a deep breath.

Tried to focus on the things that weren't a disaster.

Dravyn was safe. I was safe. My sister was barely conscious, but still alive. Injured . Not dead.

This is not an ending.

But I had never felt so ready for everything to be over.

I wanted to collapse to the ground, yet I kept moving. Weaving through the flaming fields on my own, letting the tendrils of heat scour my skin. Mentally sinking into the magic within that heat. Bolstering the magic where it felt weak, sending some of the flames so high they could likely be seen for miles around.

I wanted them to be seen.

I wanted them to serve as a warning to all our enemies. To one enemy in particular.

Come close to this house again.

I fucking dare you.

A reckless challenge, I knew, when we were better off lying low while my sister recovered. Which was why I wasn't surprised when I looked over my shoulder and saw a section of the distant field barely smoldering, the roaring blaze I'd set reduced to nothing more than charred and smoking ground.

Someone was putting my fires out.

I felt a cool breeze caress my skin moments later, pulling my attention away from my broken and battered thoughts. I didn't have to look in the direction of that breeze to know it was Valas approaching from the east. His power preceded him, countering and starting to calm my own just by its mere arrival.

"Sorry to undo your impressive work," he said, flashing me a crooked smile, "but it was getting a bit warm for my taste."

I folded my arms across my chest and simply nodded. I didn't want to argue. Or even talk. But I was not entirely ungrateful for his company, either, so I kept silent when he fell into step beside me.

Together, we walked the perimeter of my family's land. I continued to occasionally set fires whenever I grew restless. He never asked me to stop. He only put out the worst of them with simple flourishes of his hands, gestures that filled the air with sparkling crystals that hissed into steam as they clashed with my power.

"I've just come from Altis, if you're curious," he said after a few minutes of walking. "The city is secured. The fires in and around it have all been put out."

"And the king?"

"Not thrilled with how things unfolded, as you probably guessed. Rumors are he's mobilizing troops at Mindoth and elsewhere, preparing to march northward."

"Toward the Hollowlands? Toward Ederis?"

"One assumes." He sighed. "He already had these forces lined up and ready, but now…"

Now he has no reason to believe peace is an option.

Because I'd failed to hold up my end of the deal.

He was surely furious at me, at my sister, at anything and everything associated with us. Angry that he'd taken a chance on me. How many of his people had the elves killed to get at my sister?

I thought of Dravyn, of the complicated tension between him and the king, and my heart sank even further.

I'd made things between them worse instead of better.

He had to be worried about his brother. Yet he wasn't in Altis. He wasn't here, either—he'd traveled back to Nerithyl, to the territories of the Stone Court, in search of Armaros. He was on better terms with the Healing God than any other member of our own court, so he'd gone to him on my behalf—or my sister's, rather—seeking something that might help claw Savna back from the deathly edge she balanced on.

Mairu had arrived in his place; she was currently watching over my old house, and over my sister, while I walked through my fires and tried to decide what the hell I was supposed to do next.

Everything I came up with felt wrong.

My very existence felt wrong—like I shouldn't have been here at all. Like I'd taken a thousand wrong turns; my obsession with maps and charts and patterns had not protected me from getting lost the way I'd so desperately wanted it to.

I'd stopped walking without realizing it. Tears tickled the edges of my eyes. I blinked them away and jogged to catch up with Valas, who gave me a long, searching look.

"I told the King of Galizur I could fix things," I said, eyes straight ahead, focused on putting one foot after the other. "A ceasefire. I wanted that more than I've ever wanted anything."

The Winter God continued watching me closely, his magic rising, settling over me and my simmering rage and grief like a comforting, weighted blanket.

Quietly, I said, "I thought I could fix it all."

"Bit of a lofty expectation for yourself, wasn't it?" I glanced over to see him smiling, as usual, but his eyes were sad.

I scrubbed the heel of my hand across my own eyes, swiping away the tears before they could fall.

"It wouldn't have been such an impossible task if I hadn't gotten it so wrong from the very beginning," I said, voice tight with the fury I felt toward myself. "I've had so many chances where I could have undone mistakes I made, but instead, I only made more. With my magic, with the gods, with my sister. And with Andrel." I couldn't help the shudder that rippled through me at the mention of him. "With my sister out of his way, there will be no opposing voice within the rebellious ranks he leads. I was so desperate to pull my sister away from him that I didn't think everything through the way I should have. I should have been smarter. Instead, I've given him more power. I've given him entirely too much power for years, now, and all he's done, and all he will do—"

My throat swelled with emotion, choking me into silence. The rage building, filling up my heart and lungs and everything else, ensured I didn't find my voice again any time soon.

Valas was quiet for a long moment before he said, "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, but you are not responsible for anything he's done. Not to you or otherwise."

My heart thudded painfully hard against my chest.

I didn't know what to say to this.

It didn't undo any of the things that had happened, but something in the words soothed some of the rage building in me—or maybe it was his magic at work again, breathing cold, fresh life into that rage, turning it into something new.

Still anger, but a more purposeful kind.

He was primarily the god associated with Winter, but I was reminded now of the other things that fell under his domain. Like a certain kind of death—that which led to rebirth, just as the dark days of winter made tired hearts reach more eagerly for spring.

It was interesting, all the different powers of this divine family I'd found myself a part of, and how they conflicted and complimented one another—particularly when it came to different echoes of death and rebirth. Mairu, the Goddess of Change. Dravyn, whose fire could destroy, but also scour things clean. Zachar, who could suspend death and shepherd souls through it. And, of course, the god who walked beside me now…

It made me wonder once more at the depths and shades of my own power, and think again of the conversation I'd had with Zachar about letting things go.

I'd crash landed in the middle of them all, and in some ways, I'd been stumbling around ever since, trying to discover where my true strength actually was.

The words Dravyn said to me soon after I'd emerged from the Tower of Ascension played in my head again, as they so often had over the past weeks.

Fire will be the magic that comes most easily…but there's more to you than what I gave you. The Moraki granted you power in addition to mine, and it's impossible to say how much, or what you might shape that into.

I walked on with all these thoughts tangling up tight in my head. My feet were numb, my chest tight, my skin burning.

Valas stayed close, the cool weight of his power continuing to soothe my aches, both physical and otherwise.

"I may not be responsible for the things Andrel has done," I said, eventually, breaking the silence, "but I still want to fix things. Heal things."

Deep down, it was all I'd ever wanted to do.

I just kept getting it all wrong.

I choked back a sob at this last thought. The tears still trailed silently down my cheeks, but I managed to keep my breaths and words relatively steady.

"I don't think I've ever told you this," I said as my old house came into view once more, "but I used to have actual healing magic, when I was a mortal. Or, at least, I could sense the places where healing power had pooled, and I could draw it from those places. From the very earth, sometimes. I created recipes for all sorts of ailments, too, and everyone swore that when I made them, my touch infused them with extra healing power."

Valas tilted his head toward me, his attention clearly focused for once.

"And I always thought the Marr became exaggerated versions of the beings they'd been before they became divine—but then I ascended, and I think I lost whatever talent for healing I possessed."

"Did you?"

I gritted my teeth. "My sister is dying. The world is splintering. Everything feels broken beyond repair, and I don't even know what piece to reach for first. And even if I did, things will never go back to the way they were—so I can't fix anything I set out to fix."

"What if they aren't meant to go back to the way they were?"

I opened my mouth to argue.

Then I realized I once again didn't know what to say.

Valas didn't elaborate. He was uncharacteristically quiet as we reached the house. While I went inside to check on my sister, he stayed in the yard, pacing and occasionally kneeling in the overgrown grass, swiping through it as if searching for something.

Mairu met me at the door of my sister's room—or ran into me, more like, as she was so lost in thought that she didn't notice me until it was too late.

She quickly transformed her distracted expression into something more optimistic. "She's resting easier, I think. The pain medicine you gave her earlier helped."

I could tell she was forcing the words, the smile.

"Tell me the truth." I braced myself against the doorframe. "You can sense energies of living creatures, so you know better than most how Savna is truly faring."

She hesitated.

"Just…tell me."

"Her life force is very faint, Karys. It's getting fainter."

I swallowed hard. "Thank you."

She tried once more to press her lips into an optimistic smile, but didn't quite manage it. "Dravyn will be back soon, I'm sure."

My magic swelled at the thought, giving me courage to move.

As I stepped into the dimly-lit room, it was impossible not to draw comparisons to that fateful day over five years ago, when Savna had disappeared. When I'd stumbled into her room and found her bed coated in blood.

I'd changed her blood-soaked clothing earlier. Made sure her sheets were clean. Wiped away all the drops that had gotten on the floor.

Yet the stench of blood lingered.

Whether from the most recent wound in her back, or a trick of my memory, I wasn't sure.

I pulled up a chair next to her bed and numbly lowered myself into it. My hand fumbled for her wrist, feeling for her pulse.

So, so weak .

I slipped from the chair, dropped instead to my knees. Buried my face against the mattress, my fingers clenching the sheets next to my sister's still body.

"Please don't leave me again," I begged, softly. "Not now."

Not when you finally started to come back to me.

I couldn't stop thinking about her hand reaching for mine just before the arrow struck it.

Every time the scene played in my mind, I felt a little more sick.

I kept vigil by her bedside for as long as I could bear it. Then I stood, moving around the room, tidying and organizing, humming softly to myself. Trying not to think of the past. Not five hours ago. Not five years ago. Just…now.

I only needed to survive this moment.

One breath in, one breath out.

One foot after the other.

I went outside once more, and I found Valas close to where I'd last seen him—in a wild, overgrown section of the yard.

The area was filled with trash and debris. The remnants of the old storehouse that had once stood in the corner made up most of the junk; there were splintered, weathered boards, rusted nails, bits of broken jars that had lined the building's shelves.

Valas held two pieces of those broken jars, studying them.

I gave him a curious look, and he gestured for me to follow him as he walked over to a clearer section of the yard.

He leaned against a stretch of rundown fencing, dropping the shards onto the ground next to him, and said, "Did you know, in the mortal kingdom I was born in—Olithia—they have a tradition of never throwing away broken things if they can help it? It's considered bad luck to do so." He pointed at the jagged pieces beside his boots. "So they keep shattered bits of jewelry, pottery, decor—anything and everything. They collect it in ornate boxes and put them on display. Like shrines to mistakes, almost. And they often forge these pieces into something new, binding the brokenness in all sorts of creative ways. There are regular festivals to celebrate the remaking of these objects, even, that most of the royal city participates in."

He took the golden bangles from his wrist and placed them on a nearby stone paver.

"Melt them," he instructed.

Still curious about the point he was making—and happy to have another target for the still-smoldering fire inside of me—I did so without questioning him.

As the bracelets turned to liquified metal, he nudged the broken pieces of the jars closer to me. Understanding, I took one shard and pressed it into the sticky glob of molten material, then grabbed the other and affixed it to the same stickiness.

"The masters of this art form have other tools and materials they use, of course, but this is essentially the same thing." He cooled the melted gold with a gentle, icy wind as he spoke, fastening the shards of ceramic more permanently together.

I leaned against the fence beside him, holding up the still-fragile, but now singular, piece. It wasn't a perfect match. Even with his aid in cooling the adhesive, the shards continued to slip and slide and settle against one another. It looked messy. Crooked. I kept waiting for one to break off, fall to the ground, shatter.

Yet they never did.

"A disastrous first attempt at the art of it," Valas said, grinning his usual teasing grin, "but my general point still stands. And you'll get better with practice, hopefully. I mean, you can hardly get worse ."

I aimed a punch at his arm, which he avoided with a graceful little spin. He danced out of my reach and moved back to the long grass, gathering up more broken things.

Fighting the urge to both smile and roll my eyes, I went back to studying the joined shards.

The two pieces were not from the same jar, I noticed—they could not have been more different in terms of their designs. I didn't know if Valas had chosen them on purpose or not, but I couldn't stop staring, comparing the two patterns.

They complimented one another, I decided.

And something about the shining gold in between them brought me a sense of peace as I stared at it.

I was still studying it when I sensed movement in the bushes behind me.

Strange energy accompanied what sounded like a small, rustling creature, but by the time I turned and pinpointed where that sound and energy was coming from, the creature causing it was disappearing into thin air, leaving nothing but swirls of sparkling, purplish-black residue in its place.

"We've had an audience," Valas muttered, sauntering back to me.

I took a few cautious steps toward the bushes, running my fingers through the magical residue, which clung like ink to my skin for an instant before evaporating. "I've seen one of them before."

Valas didn't seem particularly surprised by this. "A tellesk ," he informed me. "They serve the Moraki. Usually the God of the Shade, to be exact—the creatures share his power to read minds, emotions, and the like."

"He's been watching me through them over this past month, hasn't he?"

"Through them and who knows what other methods."

I stared at my fingers, now completely clear of the ink-like substance. Nothing to see, yet my skin still shivered.

My entire body shivered—not with fear, but with possibility.

These creatures showing themselves now, of all times…it seemed almost too obvious. Too coincidental. Impossible to ignore.

As I lowered my hand, I looked to the sky, thinking of the heavens I'd become familiar with over the past months. And then beyond Nerithyl—higher than that place I'd started to think of as home .

A plan started to form in my mind.

But could I manage it?

There were no maps to where I needed to go.

No clear guideposts.

And I would go alone—I needed to go alone. Too long had I spent looking to other people, to other powers to hide behind. My sister's rebellious dreams. Dravyn's fire. I loved them both, but I couldn't exist merely as a shadow or an extension of either one of them anymore.

If I was going to bring balance to all these different worlds I had tethers to, then I was going to have to forge a new path through them.

My own path.

"I know the look of someone considering a chaotic decision," Valas said, "and you have it."

I gripped the fused shards of ceramic tightly, bringing the shivering in my hand to a stop.

"Come on. Out with it."

"…The tellesk share his power," I recited, lowering my gaze back to the bushes the creature had been hiding in. "So does that mean focusing on the energy this creature leaves behind might help my own magic carry me to wherever the largest concentration of that energy is?"

Valas considered the question. "…Yes," he answered, carefully. "I would think so."

"And that place is the dwelling of the upper-gods themselves."

The Winter God's brows rose, but he didn't reply.

"I'm not wrong, am I?"

"It's… possible for us to visit those upper-heavens, at least for a short amount of time. Usually only when we're invited, though."

"I'm not waiting for an invitation," I said, fiercely. "I think a certain upper-god owes me a conversation."

Valas fixed me with a familiar look—one that was part exasperation, part admiration, part amusement.

"If the God of Fire asks, I tried to talk you out of it," he said, dryly. "And I thoroughly warned you about the consequences of not treading carefully where the Moraki are concerned."

"He'll understand why I needed to go," I said, more to myself than Valas.

Dravyn would be worried, but in the end, he wouldn't stop me. He would empower me. It was what he'd been doing all along, after all—he had given me fire, showed me the way to unfold my wings…but then he'd let go and let me fly on my own, stepping in only when it looked like I might crash to the ground.

If I wanted to soar to the highest heavens, he would be there to catch me whenever I came back down, I knew. However I came back down.

But this was a dangerous new game I was thinking of playing.

And even if I won it, deep in my heart, I knew there was a chance I wouldn't come back to him at all.