Page 43 of The Last of the Dark Lords

"I found your mother with a knife to Cyrus' throat. She was about to murder a ten-year-old child."

I stepped back unconsciously, my back slamming against the desk behind me. The desk hit the wall with a bang. It hurt, but the pain didn't break through the swirl of thoughts in my mind. The sense that Manod was telling the truth, that he was sharing a deeply painful event from his past, was at war with my belief that my parents would never have done such a thing. I may only have a few memories of them, flashes of comfort and love, but I couldn't believe that my mother would attack a young boy.

I didn't say anything. What was there to say? Manod continued.

"I managed to fight her off and get Cyrus behind me, although only because I caught her by surprise. She was a fierce fighter. I held her back until the guard arrived. She wouldn't surrender. They had to..."

Manod stopped. Even as upset as he was, he wouldn’t describe my own mother's death to me.

"Cyrus was safe, but that was overshadowed by the arrival of horrible news. The Lord of Ashfuror was dead. Your father had attacked in the night. He'd fought back. The clash had ended in both of their deaths."

He flexed and unflexed his fingers, trying to purge the recollection from his mind.

"I could understand the attack on Oswyn. It seemed foolish to throw away the chance at peace, but he could be a harsh and ambitious Lord, and there have always been tensions between Ashfuror and Greatfalls. But I couldn't forgive them for going after a child."

This couldn't be possible. If this was true, then everything I knew about myself, my family, my home...it was all a lie.

"How can I believe you?" My voice came out in a ragged whisper.

"Ask yourself what is more likely to be true. That all of this is an elaborate staged hoax? That Cyrus' affection for you isn't real, that your marriage isn't real, that we've somehow staged all this. Isn't it more likely that your grandmother sent your parents here to topple the Lord of Ashfuror's reign? The same as she sent you."

I couldn't deny the old priest’s words. After all, Grandmother had lied to my face, no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise. She had made me believe that Cyrus would live, that being separated from the crown would prolong his life. She had kept the existence of the treaty from me.

But Cyrus and Manod had also lied, or at least omitted vital information. They misled me about the timing of the wedding. They’d left me in the dark about the nature of the crown. They could have been truthful, no matter what the God of Fire and Metal wanted, so that Cyrus’ life wouldn’t be in danger.

Instead I was left weighing the piles of deception against one another. I was mired deep, and tired of being a tool of ancient ruling families and the gods themselves.

A pained moan came from Cyrus' still body. His face was even paler than before.

"I thought we had time,” I said, turning to the priest for answers.

"I can only hold it off for so long." A maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirled on Manod’s face. "You have to decide. There is danger, but...it's the only chance he has."

My new husband lay before me. His lips were speckled with blood, and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. The gravity of it settled on me like a great weight on my shoulders. No matter what lies had been told to me, I had been the one to do this. If there was no one left for me to trust, I could trust in myself, in my own integrity, my own sense of responsibility. This was my fault, and it was my job to fix it. There was only one answer.

"I'll do it."

Wasting no time, Manod sprung up and took the obsidian circlet in his hands.

"Once this is set atop your head, you will come face to face with Stahkla. Only he can bind you to the Crown of Seeing. You must convince the god of your worthiness."

I nodded. There was a decent chance this would end in my death, but that was the risk I had to take to right my wrong. At least I’d die with my honor intact.

Manod lifted the artifact above my head and chanted in a low voice. "This one offers himself to your service, God of Fire and Metal. May you accept his sacrifice for the good of all Fyr."

Manod brought his hands down, and the Crown of Seeing settled on my brow, heavy and cold. For a moment all was quiet, as if time itself had been suspended.

Then the room was ablaze.

Chapter 13

Fire filled my field of vision, consuming everything around me. All of it burned, the furniture and Manod and Cyrus and the stone walls themselves. It disintegrated into flame and ash, until the only thing left was the inferno. I sat at the center, clenching my jaw as I endured the pain of the heat.

I didn’t make a sound. I could not show weakness in this place, no matter what tortures were to come, I was certain of that. After what felt like an eternity, the conflagration died down. I floated alone in a black void.

Then it came. It did not appear. There was no moment of arrival. It was simply there, as if it had always been so, a titan, a creature of molten rock, the magma flowing and swirling on the surface of his body.

You have betrayed your oath.

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