Chapter 40 | Ravinica

Chapter 40

Ravinica

“ That is the Runesphere?” I crowed, walked in a circle around the dais. “The object of all our troubles? It’s not even a sphere! More of an oval.”

“Rune-oval sounds a bit lackluster, eh?” Elayina chuckled from behind me. “When you say ‘troubles,’ child, it depends who you ask. To humans, it was the beacon of your power. Yes, your people no longer possess it, but the magic of the Runesphere has passed through enough generations of humans to make it a permanent fixture in your runeshaping world. Still think it’s an object of troubles , knowing that?”

Brow furrowing, I shot her a look over my shoulder. She seems to have quite a lot of reverence for it. I probably should too.

Then again, Elayina was around when the Runesphere was at the height of its power, not pushed away in some box to be forgotten like an artifact in a museum.

It baffled me that the Dokkalfar, humans like Frida . . . everyone wanted this thing, because of the power it supposedly held. The ability to wield it as a weapon.

“If this thing is so grand,” I said, pointing toward the glass, “why is it stuffed in a tiny side-room like this? Shouldn’t it be given, uh, the respect it deserves?”

Elayina walked up alongside me. “Should we broadcast its whereabouts and importance in the largest, grandest hall available, with thirty guards watching over it at all times? That would not alert suspicion or ask for trouble, now would it?”

Her last sentence dripped with sarcasm, and had me nodding along with a cringe. Playing down its importance. I get it.

A question popped to the front of my mental list, out of nowhere. “Do you know how much elvish blood is inside me, Elayina? For my ears to be half-tapered like they are? I feel my elven heritage must be more recent than, say, a distant ancestor like Solzena, for me to keep these ears and this hair.”

With a sharp smile, she shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, child. I understand what you are trying to do. You are trying to solve the mystery of your lineage by reason of deduction, and wondering if your father is an elf.”

I shrugged. “Is that so wrong?”

“Nay, but you will bury yourself in circles doing that. There is a reason I have brought you here. Not everyone gets to even see the Runesphere, as you well know. I have brought you here for the same reason you are pondering: to gauge my theory of your inheritance.”

I scratched my head, running a hand through my hair nervously. I abruptly felt overwhelmingly anxious, because this “history lesson” had become more than just a simple talk.

“What . . . must I do?” I asked.

Lady Elayina strode forward to the glass. At the same time, I took two big steps back, putting it ten feet from me.

The ancient seer wrote a complex spell in the air around the box, surrounding the air with motes of ancient script that faded within seconds. When she had completed her circle of protective magic around the dais, she lifted her hand and the glass box magically floated into the air about three feet.

I went taut at the sight of the uncovered Runesphere. The object many, many people would kill to be so close to, practically within arm’s reach.

Without the protective glass around it, the stone began to shimmer. It was dim at first, hardly recognizable. Within seconds of being revealed to the open air, the gray rock turned to silver, still glittering brighter as the moments passed, until I had to squint to see it.

I shielded a hand in front of my face. “E-Elayina?”

“All you must do, child, is reach for the stone.”

I shook my head. “It’s glowing like it’s about to explode!”

Behind, at the end of the twenty-foot corridor, I heard Corym’s voice call out, “ Lunis’ai ? Is everything all right?”

He could surely see the reflection of the illumination permeating the room, and I heard footsteps sounding down the hall, headed our way.

Elayina frowned. “The glass will lower once your mates step into this room.”

I had to make a decision. I wasn’t going to tell them to stand back, because I knew they wouldn’t do it—not when they thought I was in danger.

My mind spun, a thousand things running through me at once. Intense need to solve this mystery, if such a thing could be done. Greed, somewhere in the deepest regions of my mind, wishing for the Runesphere to be mine. Anxiety over what might happen to me if I touched it. Trepidation and hesitance for the same reasons. Excitement.

That tangle of emotions began to swirl with other, more solid feelings I recognized: fear, happiness, sadness, pain. Stepping stones of a life well-lived.

Yet I had no idea where these big feelings came from. Staring at the bright stone, fragments of pictures and scenes played in my head I couldn’t understand. Nothing made sense anymore.

“Ravinica!” the seer shouted into the sunlight at me. “You must make a decision !”

Elayina’s voice ripped the timidity from my flesh.

Soaring confidence, bordering on arrogance, took its place. My heart lodged in my throat and I strode forward with purpose, as the footfalls of my lovers pounded the hallway behind me, getting louder.

I drew closer to the Runesphere—ten, seven, five feet away. I put my hand out, fingers trembling—

Reached out with a sound of despair and sweltering heat passing through my lips, almost like a moan of regret and acceptance.

Not able to handle the pressure, the intense aura of this magical relic enveloping me, I screwed my eyes shut.

I did not know if I ever managed to touch the Runesphere.

One minute, the world was spinning, bright and luminescent, eerie and powerful.

The next, I was . . . screaming.

Pain wrenched through me. A hissing, buzzing sound filled the room. I felt shapes around me then, looming, protective, scared for me.

Doubling over, I clutched at my belly, mouth wide in a shout of pain and confusion. Pressure built, knotting inside me, and then reached to the far corners of my limbs, until my toes and fingers and the very hair on my head felt electric and combustible.

My spirit shattered from the wave of magic that rolled over me, blackening my vision for a split second—

And then there was the sound of ripping flesh.

My scream became tortured, cracking my voice just as something broke my skin.

The pain. It was coming from my back .

A sob wrenched through me, tears spilling down my shut eyes, past the wrinkles of my twisted face as I hugged myself to try and hold on to whatever sanity I could.

The strange ripping sound molded into agony of its own, as if my bones were rearranging and moving in my body, under my skin.

I was not sure how long I screamed, or how long it hurt.

I only knew that afterward, there was complete silence in the room. Darkness, as the magic of the Runesphere faded once the glass fell over it once more. Only a dim blue light from the wall lanterns, and me, on my knees, leaning with my forehead to the floor.

I felt . . . heavy .

Something was weighing me down, and it wasn’t my damned spirit. It was something tangible, real .

I finally opened my eyes, wheezing in a shallow breath, my heart hammering in my chest. Slowly, I lifted my face—

To find my four mates staring at me. Aghast. Blanched faces, the lot of them, eyes huge in their heads.

“B-Boys?” I croaked. “What’s . . . what’s wrong?”

“Holy shit, Vini,” Arne croaked first. He pointed at me like I was a circus freak. The silver-tongued iceshaper didn’t have the words to explain.

Corym made a strange gesture over his body, perhaps the elven version of praying. It seemed spiritual, if not bordering on religious.

Then he kneeled.

Slowly, when I started to stand, I struggled.

Grim and Sven rushed to my aid, breaking rank.

I put a hand out, determined to get up on my own.

“Check yourself out, little menace,” the wolf shifter whispered. He pointed, like Arne, past me.

That’s when I turned—

And discovered wings had sprouted from my back. My shadow was larger than before. The heaviness I’d felt, the feeling that something was different, wrong, and that my body had changed—it was all true.

The wings were dripping with fluids and blood from where they’d torn free from my shoulder blades, like a newborn. I didn’t know how to lift them. They stayed slumped behind me, closed. I could see the bright amber-hued scales in the dim blue light—black scales that glittered different muted colors when the light hit them.

Consumed by nerves, I screamed. It ripped from my throat on its own, no thoughts to control it.

Then Grim and Sven were beside me, helping me stay standing while my knees buckled and I nearly toppled over.

I looked back again, an ugly sob ripping past my throat again, and cried harder. I looked . . . inhuman. Disgusting.

Despite my outward appearance, I also felt rejuvenated and stronger. My blood flowed with energy I couldn’t explain. Sniffing, I could smell scents I’d never smelled before, mixing with the musk of my men and the dustiness of the room and the sterile motes of Elayina’s magic. My vision was razor-sharp, taking in tiny details that would go unseen before, like the pores on my mates’ faces.

Corym remained kneeled, bowing his head with a fist on the floor. Clearly, he knew more about this transformation I’d gone through than I did.

I spun around, nearly smacking my new wings against Sven and Grim—

And found Lady Elayina, ancient half-elf seer and daughter to Queen Amisara of legend, also kneeling before me. When she lifted her face, tears trickled down her cheeks and got caught in the divots of her wrinkles. Her chin trembled. She said something in Elvish, then stared into my eyes. “Lightbearer,” she croaked in a weak voice. “The prophecy is true.”

I breathed heavily, shaking my head. “H-How?” I asked. “What . . . what am I, Elayina?”

Corym finally rose, walking past me to help the old elf up on creaking knees. Arne joined my side with Sven and Grim. The three of them stayed huddled by me.

“You are the Winged One, child,” Elayina said. She rattled off the other names from her prophecy. “The one who flew. The enemy of our enemies. The one we have waited for. Ser’karioth. The last dragonkin.”

At mention of the final title, my mouth dropped. I was sweating. My eyes burned from tears and perspiration dripping into them. I felt exhausted yet stronger than I’d ever felt, as if the Runesphere had truly awoken something inside me more than just the physical wings.

I knew Elayina spoke the truth. It was written on my back, on my face, in my blood. I could deny it no longer. I was not a simple half-elven bog-blood born to a destroyed family line. I was important —more important than I could ever fathom.

Why me? I wondered.

The question never left my lips.

A new question formed, fit to match the new appearance I sported and was trying desperately to figure out.

Why not me?

“There is a lesser-known name among your people for what you have unveiled, Ravinica.” Elayina clasped her hands in the sleeves of her cloak. “Floating around the secret halls of your academy, matching the grit of your people.”

Her face was brittle and leathery—nearly as leathery and waxy looking as my new dragon wings—as she smiled roguishly at me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“The Last Valkyrie.”

My mates let out sounds of shock and concern.

We all knew the valkyries of myth and legend. The warrior maidens who traveled the sky on winged steeds down from the heavens, to gather the dead soldiers of battle and bring them to Valhalla. The most well-respected and admired host of our pantheon.

I blinked at her. “W-Why? What do valkyries have to do with an elven prophecy?”

“Our people have always been closely aligned, lass, despite our differences over the past thousand years. Our gods and goddesses, the Aesir and Vanir, have intermingled just as often as elves and humans themselves.” She swept a hand out at me. “The proof is on your face—in your ears, your silver hair. The question should not be why is this so, but what does it mean?”

I tilted my head. “Care to venture a guess, Ancient One?”

She squinted at me through baggy lids, taking a long gander. A minute of pin-drop silence passed . . . and then she started chuckling. She palmed her forehead in disbelief, looking away, and her chuckle turned into a roar of laughter—so loud and cackling it made me and my mates exchange worried looks.

Our looks said, Has she finally lost it completely?

Through her laughter, she turned away and tapped the glass holding the Runesphere. “Oh, but the spirits are tricksters and jesters, aren’t they? Damn the gods—they have a sense of humor!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Recall the prophecy, lass.” She spun to me and paced in front of my group. “‘Fly me to on wings of leather, not feather .’” Then she pointed at my wings . . .

Which had the scales and leathery musculature of dragons, not the feathers of angels or gods—the kind of wings valkyries had always been associated with.

“It is a prophecy of valkyries bringing the dead to the golden shores. The pearly gates. Whatever you want to call it. The afterlife.” She shook her head, sighing. “It’s a theory many academics have had: The valkyries were actually dragonkin bringing their carrion from one field to their feeding grounds. But people looking up from the ground, at a distance, simply saw women of great splendor riding winged steeds. The valkyrie must have been serpents themselves!”

She looked to the floor, still pacing, and I wondered about all this insider talk—what it meant, and if there was any relevance other than completing an age-old myth in Lady Elayina’s mind.

She barked another laugh, making us all recoil in surprise, and clapped. “And the other part? The Lightbearer will be both and neither. Look at it now! You are both elf and human, yet neither at the same time, because there is dragonblood inside you. It had nothing to do with being a half-blood! I fear we’ve misinterpreted the prophecy all along. This will set us back generations of historical learning.” Tutting, she shook her head, drowning deeper in the semantics of her tale.

“Elayina!” I called out, ripping her out of her dazed headspace. When she looked up with wide eyes, apparently shocked we were still standing there, I said, “What does this mean for the present ? For all parties involved? I’m the Lightbearer? Great. What does it mean?”

The woman had the audacity to shrug . “My foresight never gets that far, child, because I’ve never seen the Lightbearer before in my mind. Otherwise this entire mission would have been much easier.”

Corym took over, sighing. He had always been skeptical of the legends and the “serpent’s shadow” prophecy, but now it was hard to deny at least some of it, when I was standing here like a gods-damned half-dragon legend.

“The scripture speaks of the Lightbearer bringing the people together—Ljosalfar and humans; light and dark elves. It talks of unity being the strength that tethers us.” Casting a sidelong glance at Elayina, he added, “It’s notoriously undetailed about how that is to happen, however.”

I nodded slowly, mulling over his words. In a low voice, I said, “That’s . . . been my mission all along. Unification.”

“Now you’ve been presented with the means to do it,” Elayina said with a smile. “At least symbolically.”

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to fight off another bout of overwhelm. I figured the best way to do that was to change the subject. So I asked another question. “How did you know it would work? Lifting the glass. How did you know it would change or reveal me, or confirm your theory?”

“Because there was a part I left out in my history lesson.” She waddled away from the dais. “The man I mentioned, Azerot the Wrathseeker, who mated with Syndriel and birthed your ancestor Solzena. He was dragonkin.”

I gawked.

“I wanted to see if his blood still ran within your veins. If it did, it would prove you are truly the last dragonkin. Or at least that you’re related to him in some form.”

Never mind the fact Elayina had left out that incredibly important tidbit about him being dragonkin before showing me the Runesphere’s power.

It tasted a bit like betrayal, yet I also understood it: Tell me my ancestor was a dragon, and I might’ve run away in disbelief. Tell me after and, well, it was hard to deny now.

“Why was Azerot called the Wrathseeker?” I asked.

“Because Azerot is the man who slew King Dannon, child. For revenge against killing Lord Talasin and betraying the Ljosalfar.”

Behind me, my Vikingrune Academy mates gasped in horror. Everything they’d been taught—that a mysterious illness had felled our “glorious” King Who Saw, was unraveling before their eyes.

I nearly forgot Grim, Sven, and Arne had not been able to hear that part of Elayina’s story, so it was news to them. Well, maybe Sven heard it, with his damned wolfish hearing.

“That checks out,” I said in a droll tone.

Azerot and Syndriel, dragonkin and half-elf. Lovers, fighters. One was a vengeance-seeker, the other was born from a human king and elven queen. Three races, all melded together, eventually leading to my father and . . . me. The last dragonkin.

The Last Valkyrie.

I blinked, staring down at the shorter seer. “What now, Lady Elayina? What comes next?”

She smiled sadly at me, a twinkle in her eye, yet spoke without reluctance, fear, or emotion in her voice.

“Well, Ser’karioth , now I die.”