38

I’m ready to find my pendant.

A new morning has come, and the forest looms before me.

As the light from the daystar disappears behind the trees, the thorns of underbrush grow powerful and claw at my ankles. The uneven ground slows my pace. I’m overly cautious, not wanting to injure myself simply because I’m rushing. I run my bare hands over the fallen leaves—combing the earth for the smooth onyx stone in the moth’s thorax, the bumpy red and gold jewels that make up her wings. But I’m touching only dirt, leaves, and an occasional centipede.

I don’t feel any particular pull toward anything yet. And my hands aren’t hypersensitive.

Stop doubting yourself, Kai. You just started.

“Compassion suits you.”

The woman’s voice causes me to startle and topple forward, landing facedown in the dirt. At first, all I see are the tips of boots covered by mail. I follow the draped chainmail up to find Sybel standing before me, her face as sharp as an eagle’s and as soft as a lamb’s.

I scurry to my feet. At the sight of her, my chest loosens and my breath flows freely from my lungs. The trees now have space between them, and their vines keep to themselves. We are no longer in the woods near Veril’s cottage.

“I’m looking for my amulet.” My pulse bangs against my neck. “Am I in the right area? Are there other clues you can share?” I hear my desperation.

Sybel touches the top of my hair. Something in me stretches toward something in her, like one of these vines curling around a log, like one of the vines of my tattoo. The force of her touch makes me shake even more, and I don’t have the strength to fight it. Whatever she’s doing to me, I pray she just does it quickly. Let it be done. I’m so tired.

Instead, she says, “You’re just like her. Your mother. Her name was Lyra.”

Sybel’s words make me dizzy, and that dizziness rushes from my head to settle in my heart. A dollop of joy chases that bout of vertigo, and I want to respond to Sybel, but joy sweeps away all my words, all my thoughts and questions. I’ve been so hungry for this information, desperate for it. I lift my head to face her, eager for more.

“Lyra was lovely,” Sybel says. “Not just her countenance but also her spirit. She was a romantic at heart. While that—being a romantic—became a shard of glass in her eye, that infinite well of love made her a wonderful steward and guardian of her realm.” Sybel’s smile grows distant for a moment, and her focus falls as she whispers words that I can’t hear—a prayer?

She takes my hands and pulls me to stand. “She loved you so very much.”

This time, Sybel’s touch is more than just her skin against mine. It feels like a cool draught alleviating fever and pain, a tonic that seeps through my skin, bones, and heart to purge all the bad things. And as all those bad things bubble to my surface, a sob erupts from my gut, and tears spill from my eyes like a stream. And that vine-like tugging between us becomes more insistent—poison being drawn from my spirit.

My weeping eventually softens into hiccups and sniffles, and my breathing normalizes. The sharp burrs behind my eyes, the constant ache in my shoulders, stomach, and neck, and the taste of copper dissipate. The pain of every injury I’ve endured since my first day in Maford fades like snow melting beneath a sweltering sky.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

“My job.” Her face shines like diamonds and starshine. “Tending the forests and animals in this realm. Helping heal the land and the creatures who live upon it. You are one of my charges, Kai, and I’m bringing you peace. Lyra had a similar job. She was a daughter of the Eserime.”

Is it possible for breath to leave your body and fill you up at the same time? Because that’s how I feel. The exhalation of solace and satisfaction and the simultaneous inhalation of wonderment and revelation. My knees weaken, not because I’m weak but because my thankfulness weighs so much.

I am just like my mother.

I am loved.

I belong to someone.

Finally!

Finally.

A daughter of the Eserime.

Immortal .

I’m more than human. I knew it. I felt it.

Wait.

“You speak of my mother in the past,” I say, my neck prickling now. “Why?”

Sybel’s face dims. “Because she was taken from us long ago. Her realm, Ithlon, was destroyed. She, along with it.”

My face fills with blood, and my periphery darkens. “Who did it? Who destroyed Ithlon?”

“What would you do if you knew that answer?”

Kill them.

Sybel waits for me to say that, but I don’t, because that isn’t the answer she wants. So I stay silent and let my heart burn—that fire will fuel my search for the dead man who killed my mother. But my anger, and even my sorrow, feel unmoored. How do I begin to mourn a woman I can’t remember, gone from a realm I’ll never know?

At least I have her in me—her Eserime spirit.

I think about Veril’s comment while he prepared my bath. It benefits me to have a goddess using my soap . Frankly, I thought he was simply flattering me. I didn’t believe a word he— Wait .

Does Veril know that I’m a goddess? He must. No, he would’ve told me, and he didn’t tell me because, yes, flattery. Do goddesses have headaches or creaking arms or scabs on their legs? Do their toes feel like they’ve been caught in a vise, and do the smalls of their backs feel like termites have chewed through the band of muscle there? Do goddesses feel like they’re infested with termites? Because I feel infested with termites. Phenomenally.

My mood has shifted from jubilant to heavyhearted.

“What are you thinking, Kai?” Sybel whispers.

I swipe a tear slipping down my cheek. “That nothing has changed for me. That I’m lost.” I slowly drop to the ground and rub my face with tired hands.

“You are not lost. You simply need to be true to your purpose.”

“What is my purpose?”

“You must discover that yourself.” Sybel takes a breath and slowly exhales. “Have you heard of the One? The Destroyer?”

I shake my head. “Did the Destroyer kill my mother?”

“That is no simple question,” she says. “The Destroyer became the destruction of Ithlon.”

I furrow my brows. “ Became . What does that even mean? Are you talking about fate?”

“Purpose,” she corrects. “The One would have always been, but their purpose changed. Understand?” When I shake my head, she says, “An ax in the hand of a builder cuts down trees. An ax in the hand of a murderer cuts down people. In both instances, the ax remains an ax. Only its purpose has changed. Understand?”

This time, I nod and say, “Yes.”

“And because their purpose changed, the One is now a threat to the entire realm. Their power is growing—which would’ve been a blessing had their purpose remained true. But now, this power has become a danger, and soon, Vallendor Realm will be no more. That is, if the One is not stopped. If that power goes unchecked, the One will move on to the next realm, growing more powerful still, and on to the next realm, and on and on until…”

“Until?”

Sybel lifts her hands and shrugs. “It won’t matter to me, after this world is destroyed—I will be gone, since I am its Grand Steward. And so will the other Eserime of Vallendor—”

“Including myself?” I ask. “A daughter of the Eserime?”

Sybel pauses before she shakes her head. “Your task is different. Yes, part of your heritage as Eserime is helping and healing. Listening to the thoughts of others, helping people achieve those things that improve their world, that keep them whole and healthy.”

“I haven’t helped anyone so far,” I say, feeling defeated. “I haven’t known enough about myself to bring anyone any good.”

“But you have,” Sybel assures. “Jamart and his daughter. And then you helped Tazara even after enduring an attack by creatures who were just trying to exist in a place they weren’t meant to be. Sometimes, it’s as simple as listening and holding your tongue. Other times, it’s more complicated. Healing. Righting wrongs. Protecting those you don’t even know. Eserime don’t help only those who love us. We help all who need us, and that’s the entire realm, Kai.”

“What about my other skills?” I ask. “The wind from my hands—”

“That is not a power gifted to the Eserime,” Sybel interrupts, her voice colder.

My breath catches. “Then who is it from?” The answer forms in my mind. “My father? He wasn’t Eserime, was he?”

Sybel hesitates; her entire demeanor has shifted.

“What is it?” I demand.

“Your father is of the Mera.”

My eyes widen. Mera—the warriors and protectors. That makes sense.

But Sybel’s obvious anger toward my father? That doesn’t make sense.

Unless—

Fear curdles in my stomach. “He wasn’t the Destroyer, was he? He didn’t kill my mother, did he?”

“No,” Sybel says. “The Mera are also protectors. They do not choose violence.”

“You told me that I destroyed Chesterby,” I say. “My wind powers, my skill with a blade. Isn’t that a part of the Mera way? Destroying? Executing? Fighting?”

“You must be balanced,” she says, “and right now, you aren’t balanced and you’re losing control, letting one side overtake the other. Even Mera show restraint, and you’re showing more and more that you don’t have that , either. You are even failing as Mera. What you don’t understand, what you refuse to accept, is that your job combines the entirety of your heritage. Helping. Healing. Guarding. Protecting. Strength and compassion, neither stronger than the other. You are phenomenal.”

I scoff. “I am not that.”

“You have a job to do.”

“And what is that job?” I ask.

“You are the one to stop the One.”

Now this is too much.

I snort. “I don’t think so. Why me? Why not you? Or some other…?”

“That is not my purpose,” she says, “nor is it anyone else’s. This is your purpose. Just as a hammer cannot fulfill an ax’s purpose, another Eserime or Mera cannot take your place for this task.”

Task . This is no mere task. This… This is madness . I place a hand over my hammering heart. All I wanted was to know who I was. My name, where I came from, my parents. If I’d known I was a dying realm’s salvation, I would have kept my mouth shut.

“Kai, we can’t run from this,” Sybel says. “We can’t surrender. The One will not stop at Vallendor but will go on to poison another realm and then another realm.”

She holds out her arms. “I don’t have the power to stop what’s coming—that is not my purpose. And I don’t know exactly how long we have, but I know it is not a lot of time.” She offers me a sad smile. “There are those who have tried to stop the One, but they’ve failed—and Eserime died alongside their charges.” She waits a beat, then adds, “And if you refuse to do what is needed, I, too, will die. As will the others you care for. Is there at least one person who matters to you, who you wouldn’t want to see perish?”

Jadon. Veril. Philia. Olivia.

Jadon…his kindness and care, the way his lips feel against my skin. Veril’s rapier-sharp jokes and effortless skills with lentils, mortar and pestle, his home my refuge in the past days. Then there is Philia, so brave and compassionate. And Olivia, who has grown on me. I care more for her than I did before simply because someone I care about loves her.

And it’s more than that. My eyes skip around the forest. There are plants and trees—morning glory, lilies, basil, crabapples, so many others—growing across the sky and stretching up to the clouds. They are beautiful and healthy, and their beauty has offered me joy over these last hard days.

But that’s just it—these days have been so hard. How can I face a battle bigger than the realm if I’ve barely survived this? “This is too much to ask of one person,” I say. “I hardly know this world. How can I save it?”

“If you choose not to be the ax,” Sybel says, “then be the shepherd. Be like your mother, be like Lyra, with her boundless stores of love. Fight to the very end for those you love. You must fight for all of us with all you have, Kai. You must save Vallendor Realm. This realm, this land, every forest and glen, the mountains and desert, every piece and parcel is yours—and you must heal it and you must protect it.”

You are so much more. The angel on their shoulder. The shepherd. The ax . Goddess.

Since waking up in that forest and chasing Olivia to Maford, everyone except Elyn has called me everything except a child of Supreme. Certainly not goddess . And yet, despite their ire, I still tried to save their village—including Jadon, Olivia—and I tried to save them without hesitation, because that’s who I am. Being a sword and shield—that is my nature. Making sure my companions are safe—I am their shepherd’s crook. Despite my wounds and weakened muscles, that word— goddess —feels… right.

“All that you need already lives inside of you,” she continues. “Powerful forces are already after you, Kai, and they will try to influence you, lull you into slumber, trick you so that you never defeat the One.”

“Elyn,” I whisper. “Is she the powerful force you’re speaking of?”

“Why do you suspect her?”

“Because she’s tried to trick me, and she’s sent sunabi after me. She tried to turn Maford against me. And the battaby attack—according to Veril, his part of the forest had never seen a battaby. She may have even sent the burnu.” I shrug. “How do I protect myself against them?”

“You’ll need more than armor,” Sybel says. “You need your amulet. And you need to wear your original clothes—they’re your protection from those who hunt you and from the elements killing Vallendor. That was no mere cloak you wore. The vest, the pants, the amulet in particular—every item you donned was consecrated by Supreme, and all of it works together to shield you and galvanize your core. But you’ve been without it all for too long, and now you are vulnerable to the forces of evil.”

Olivia—she stole my belongings and has yet to express true remorse. In that dream I had while recovering, she hid in the oleander, wearing my pendant around her neck. Was that more than a dream? Was that a vision? I place my hand on my neck where my amulet should hang. Do I know something deep within that I’m reluctant or unable to acknowledge? Could she be a part of the forces trying to stop me?

“You’re speaking to me as though it’s possible for me to find my amulet,” I say.

“I speak as such because it is possible,” Sybel says. “I am not lying or being hyperbolic when I say that your amulet is a part of you, Kai. You will always feel it calling, especially if it’s near. Open your eyes, and you will see. You must see. Because without that pendant, your stores of strength will continue to drain, which means that you can’t give this realm and its creatures all that they need to survive the war that’s coming. You could stand before the One right now and that wouldn’t be enough, not anymore.”

The war that’s coming .

“Is Emperor Wake the One?” I ask.

Sybel curls her lip. “The one who calls himself Supreme? He is only a consequence of the One, but he is a force working against you. The One is far more powerful.”

“How will I know the One? I can’t stop something I don’t know.”

“Had you met Wake’s men before they invaded Maford?”

“No.”

“Did you stop them? Permanently?”

I say, “Yes,” but then sigh. “If you can’t tell me who the One is, can you at least help me find my amulet? Anything will help, even if it seems unimportant. It’s more than what I know.”

Sybel takes my hands. “Just as forces of evil are out to get you, forces of good will help reunite you with what is yours. The realm speaks to you, Kai, and its creatures will guide you.”

I squeeze her hands and offer her a clumsy smile. “The only creatures I’ve met have wanted to eat me or rip me apart. Wait.” Moths .

My amulet is in the shape of a moth.

I gape at Sybel, blood thrumming. “Moths have been batting against the windows of Veril’s cottage, even during the daylight, which struck me as odd.”

“Then your amulet is nearby,” Sybel says, releasing my hands.

I take in the forest around me. “I was right. My amulet is not here in these woods.”

It wasn’t that I failed to pay attention as I searched the forest floor or that I didn’t sense what belonged to me because of my cynicism. It was because my amulet wasn’t in the woods at all—and my senses were telling me that. The moths are swarming back at Veril’s cottage. My amulet is there.

And I think I know where it is. And I think I know who has it.

“Thank you, Sybel.” I feel stronger, like I’m already holding my amulet against my skin.

“Kai,” she says, watching me carefully.

My prickly shoulder blades are back. My hands may not burn, but my heart does. And by the way Sybel’s eyes widen, I can tell that my eyes are gold. Yes, I’m angry, and I don’t care if Sybel sees that. I want my eyes to burn the brightest, hottest gold right now.

“Mercy, Kai. Choose mercy,” she whispers, her voice fading like the last star at dawn.

“Mercy,” I repeat, assuring her, assuring myself, standing tall amid the wreckage of my doubts. For the realm, for Jadon, for myself.

“This is the last time we’ll meet.” Sybel grips both of my shoulders. “At least here in Vallendor. That was the agreement I made with the Council of High Orders. Lyra was my dearest friend, and I asked to make one last appeal because I loved her, and by extension, I loved you . But you are to keep your own counsel now.”

She releases my shoulders. “Always, always choose mercy, Kai. You are Eserime. You choose peace and caring. And you are also Mera, and Mera destroy only that which is sanctioned by Supreme. Even with their swords and strength, Mera show restraint.” She touches my cheek one last time and steps away. “And that, in itself, is choosing mercy.”

I nod as she turns away. “Wait!” I shout.

She stops in her step but doesn’t look back.

“Veril told me they call you the Lady of Dawn and Dusk,” I say.

She nods. “Yes.”

“Was my mother the Lady of the Verdant Realm?”

Sybel looks over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling. “No, Kai. You are the Lady of the Verdant Realm.”