Page 121 of Anathema

“You asked for the vision and wisdom of the ancient gods. I understood the words.” I rubbed my brow and shook my head, forcing myself to remember the details of what felt like a dream.

Dolion’s brows winged up. “You must have an impressive education system in Mortasia to know Primyria.”

“I never learned it. Where is it from?”

“It’s believed to have been spoken by the gods, thousands of years ago.”

An ache throbbed at my temples, and I pressed my fingers there. “How would I know that? In fact, how would I know Nyxterosi, which I swear is Vonkovyan, a language I’ve spoken my entire life!”

“It is quite a mystery, I’ll admit. Primyria is said to be one of the most difficult to learn.”

Allura added, “I’ve studied Vonkovyan, and you are definitely not speaking the dead language now.”

I let out a strained chuckle. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Or maybe … maybe I’ve hit my head so incredibly hard back in those woods that I don’t remember and I’m lying unconscious. And this? This is just my head trying to reconcile the pain.”

“You certainly have a vivid imagination, if that’s the case, because I feel quite alive.” Dolion sighed. “And quite old.”

Palms pressed to my face, I took three deep breaths. “I saw my sister.”

“Just now?”

“When I apparently lost my senses and fell from the chair. I saw her lying beneath a pile of blankets. There was a fire burning.”

“Did she look to be in pain?” Dolion asked.

“Not at all.” Staring off brought the image to mind again. “She looked to be at peace.”

“Then, the gods shared their vision, after all.”

Snapping out of my trance, I shook my head and frowned. “How can I trust that? You said the image would be in the mirror, not in my head.”

“The gods do not abide by the rules of what should be, Maevyth.”

“Is it possible, then? Is it possible that she’s alive?” I wanted to believe with every fiber of my being that Aleysia had found safety somehow.

“If her spirit is as stubborn as yours? I would say so.”

Eyes screwed shut, I willed my head to accept the vision, to convince my mind that what I’d seen just now wasn’t made up. “I saw her, though. Moros, he …. He dragged her away.”

“Perhaps she escaped.” Dolion offered, but he hadn’t seen the way that creature had hunted both Moros and Uncle Riftyn. He hadn’t watched how easily it had torn the flesh from Uncle Riftyn’s body. Even then, I had to shake my head of the horror, the efficiency in which it had killed. What reason would it have had to spare her?

“I can’t begin to express how badly I want to believe that.”

A hand gripped my shoulder, and when I looked up, it was Allura staring down at me. “Then, believe it.”

Allura sat beside me, as I opened the puzzle book to the first page I’d unveiled. Across from us, Dolion sat scribbling in a leather-bound journal, the bones that Allura had analyzed earlier strewn about the table. She’d determined that each had belonged to a different person at some point. Which meant the bones of at least a dozen deceased individuals had shot from my hand, and I still struggled to wrap my head around that.

He lifted one of the specimens, studying it before placing it back down and scribbling again.

“It appears to be the story of Deimos and Morsana,” Allura said, yanking my attention back to the book.

I ran my fingers over the figures, spurring them into motion again, just as before. “Who are they?”

“Morsana was a death goddess. It was said that her eyes were so strikingly silver, no mortal creature dared to look at her. Except for Deimos.” Her amethyst eyes dulled with concentration as she stared down at the page. “He was a feared warrior for an ancient tribe who conquered lands and killed without remorse. Some believed the God of Chaos inhabited him, and Morsana was said to have sought him so relentlessly, she followed him into every battle, disguised as a flock of ravens. With every victory, her endeavors to claim his soul withered. And soon, she fell in love with the brave mortal who did not so much as flinch in her presence.” She peered down at the painting, her hand hovering over the shadowy figure trapped in flames. For her, the images didn’t move, but remained static. “He offered his kills as a gift to her, and his people worshipped the once-feared goddess. But Magekae, the God of Dark Alchemy, was obsessed with her. Had been since the dawn of time. And he was furious over her love for a mortal. So, he took matters into his own hands. He armed the enemies of Deimos with a powerful magic that turned them immortal. Strengthened them by daylight, which made them undefeatable for the mortals. And so, the Solassions came to be. And they conquered the lands that Deimos had claimed for his people.”

She shifted her focus to the woman bathed in a silver glowing light. “Unfortunately, Magekae and his immortals prevailed. They casted Deimos into sablefyre, to burn for eternity, and slaughtered his people. Magekae imprisoned Morsana for many years. Determined never to marry the corrupt god, Morsana took the form of a raven and escaped. That is why it is believed the raven carries the souls of the dead to Nethyria.”

Still staring down at the page, she placed her palm over the bones on the spine of the book. “We were never taught about the Corvikae people. All of these stories were nothing but fables of gods and mortals.” Shifting her attention to me, she smiled. “But they’re not, are they? If you exist, they must be real.”

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