89. Arran

I had not been to the temple in Eilean Gayl since before my powers had manifested. My devotion to the Ancestors had always been nominal at best. After my beast took over, and I began that killing rampage, coming here seemed like a slap in the face. Though I wasn't sure to whom.

Most of the castle had been rebuilt after the Great War, including the temple. It was small, in keeping with the power allotted to the priestesses after the Great War. The history I'd been taught was that the priestesses had sided with the elementals in that nasty, protracted period of hate and bloodshed. The dismantling of their power had been a terrestrial condition of the hard-won peace.

But now, after everything we'd found out about the succubus and the true causes of the Great War, I could not help but wonder… what role had the priestesses truly played? What crime had they committed to see them so denigrated?

Before the Great War, entire palaces had been erected in their honor, for their work and study. Places like Avalon had existed throughout Annwyn and the human realm. Now, no more than two were allowed to dwell in a place at any one time. Priestess and acolyte, and not a soul more.

Just then, the temple was empty.

Priestess, acolyte, perhaps even the half-human prisoners, all tucked away elsewhere. I'd never seen the priestess' quarters; never had a need.

For now, I was alone.

Me and the Ancestors.

Even three hundred years later, I remembered the ritual.

The room was dark, without a single window. In the temple, it could be any time of day, and day of the year. It was meant to deprive the senses so that one could more easily hone their focus on the Ancestors. Only one candle danced with light, just beside the arched doorway I'd entered through. More than enough light for sharp fae eyes.

There were six altars—four elemental and two terrestrial. One for each of the elemental powers—wind, water, fire, and ice; as well as the two terrestrial gifts—flora and fauna. Here in Eilean Gayl, the four elemental altars were bare. I did not even know what praying or offering to those Ancestors would look like. Did not know the names of the Ancestors who stood for each of the powers.

I knew mine.

First, to the flora altar. The pedestal was carved with various plant matter, so worn away by the centuries that it was hard to distinguish. In the center of the shallow bowl, a single shriveled leaf waited.

A flick of my hand, and it uncurled, emerald life spreading through it until the leaf looked like it might have been plucked from its tree just a moment ago.

But I did not linger at the flora altar. I'd never felt drawn there, though I always performed the ritual. I stepped up to the fauna.

The bowl was dark, stained with the blood of all those that had come before. I quickly drew my knife across my palm, spilling several drops into the bowl. A few seconds, and my hand was already healing, the blood I'd spilled absorbed by the dark stone.

I was the only terrestrial who had ever worshipped at more than one altar.

But perhaps not the only fae.

My eyes traveled slowly over the four elemental altars. Nimue had been an elemental. I tried to recall what her power had been, other than the legendary power of void. Had she had any other magic? Or had all power slumbered within her until her mating, like Veyka?

I almost asked myself where Veyka would choose to worship, were she with me. I knew the answer immediately—she'd probably kick over the altars for spite. For the lies that had been told to us about Accolon and Nimue, about the succubus and the Great War, lies that we just now were beginning to unravel.

But that was not why I had come.

I waited another few moments, the only sound in the dark temple the beating of my own heart. No one came. I sank to my knees.

"Sacred Ancestors. Accolon. Warrior King." The words were hollow on my tongue; words that did not belong to me, but to the ancient priestess who had first taught me these rituals. Long dead.

This was probably a waste of time.

I had never prayed to the Ancestors, not truly. What good could beings dead seven thousand years possibly do for me?

But something kept me on my knees. Not quite a compulsion the way the mating bond was, though this also felt internal. Like the echo of a memory.

Accolon.

I sucked in a breath of dank, dark air and tried again. "I suppose we are the only two males to have ever loved a female with the power of the void." I sighed, only because there was no one around to hear it. "Not exactly an easy path."

No answer. No response. Not even a memory. But I did not get up.

"I love her," I breathed, so quietly. I was not afraid of the words. But I was afraid. And once the words started, I could not keep them in.

"I love her. But… I am hurting her. Every moment I cannot remember is a knife in her heart. Even if I tell her, I am afraid… that it will not be enough. That it is not what we had before, and that even what I can offer… it will carve her out until there is nothing of the female she is. The one she deserves to be."

Veyka was trying. So was I. But maybe it was not enough. Maybe…

"Maybe it would be better to let her live with the memory of what was, rather than to have that memory constantly mocked by comparison."

There it was. The thought that had haunted every breath since I acknowledged to myself that I loved her, and had lingered unseen even before, a dark, ever-present specter.

"Maybe she would be happier with the memory than with the male."

My beast growled. I growled. There was no delineation. We were one, male and beast. And we loved Veyka. But loving her… it might mean letting her go.

There was nothing more to say. No answer came from the ancient Ancestors. I had not expected one.

But I lingered on in the darkness and wondered when, or if, I would find the strength for what needed to be done.