Page 407 of Of Empires and Dust

Aeson just nodded as he stared out at Achyron’s Keep. Verma had been there through centuries, right from The Fall. She knewAeson better than almost any soul that drew breath. Not just Aeson the Draleid, or Aeson the Rakina, but Aeson the man. She knew his truths and his lies, knew his fears.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “You cannot keep them strapped to your side forever, my friend.”

“A little longer would have been nice.”

Verma gave him a soft smile. “She is proud of you. I know she is. They both are.”

He met Verma’s gaze. “Should I have gone with Erik?”

“Perhaps,” Verma said with a shrug. “We’ll never know the outcomes of the decisions we do not make. Which I suppose is a good thing, because otherwise we’d all be driven mad. You have raised them to be each other’s shields, to put one another above all else. You either trust them to do that, or you don’t. You are one man, Aeson. You must do what you can and accept what you can’t.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I must check in with Fearn and Ildur to ensure we are ready for tonight.”

Verma turned and walked back into the woods, and Aeson’s thoughts fell to Naia and Lyara – his heart and his soul, shattered and broken, pieced together by his sons.

“To survive is not to live,” he whispered, repeating Naia’s words from the night before Heraya took his beloved into her arms. “I miss you more each day, my heart.”

In his mind, he stared into her eyes, felt the touch of her skin, the warmth of her love.

And the question that had plagued Aeson in the years since Naia’s death lurked behind those eyes. What if he had let go of his pain? What if he had burned the loss from his heart and instead focused on the things he had before him?

What then? If he had abandoned the rebellion and set free his burning need to see Eltoar and the others suffer for what they had done, perhaps Naia would still be alive. Perhaps thegods would not have chosen to take her from him. For the gods controlled all.

Aeson had stopped praying the day Naia died. At least with thought. By reflex he prayed to Varyn to watch over his children or to Neron for a safe journey, but they were empty prayers. He never expected the gods to answer. There were only three reasons men and women truly turned to the gods: hope, purpose, or absolution.

Hope that the ones they loved would not be taken from them and that if they were, there would be a place to find them in another life. Purpose so that a life might have meaning, something worth living for. And absolution for the dark deeds already committed and those yet to pass.

Aeson’s hope had cracked with Lyara and died with Naia. And he would not leave the lives of his sons in the hands of absent gods. He would not leave something so important to the whims of creatures who clearly cared so little for what they claim to have created.

Aeson had no need for divine purpose. His purpose lay in Dahlen’s and Erik’s beating hearts and in the fires of vengeance.

And absolution? Not only did Aeson not seek it, but he did not deserve it either. He was happy to pay for the blood he’d spilled. All actions had consequences.

Aeson hoped that in the next life, or in some world beyond, or whatever awaited him, his soul would find Lyara and Naia once more, but he did not pray for it.

The only person Aeson prayed to was his wife. She would watch over them, as she always had.

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath boots at Aeson’s back. He turned to find Alina Ateres, another woman, Dinekes Ilyon, Savrin Vander, and five of the queen’s personal guard emerging from the trees.

It was strange to see Savrin after so long. Last Aeson had heard, the man was presumed dead. Apparently not. If nothing else, he would be happy to fight alongside Savrin in the battle for the Keep. He had never met a man or woman more gifted with a blade. Perhaps Atara.

Savrin inclined his head to Aeson.

“I was told I could find you here,” Alina said, gesturing for Savrin and the guards to stay by the trees. “I realised you were not formally introduced last night. This is Mera. Mera Ateres.”

“Mera…” Aeson whispered. The woman’s eyes were blue as sapphires, her hair shaved at the side after the Valtaran fashion, and three pale scars ran from her forehead, across her left eye, and down to her jaw. She looked as fierce as Dayne. “It’s good to finally put a face to the name. Wait, Ateres?”

Mera inclined her head. “Right before he decided to throw himself into Loren’s arms so we could come and save him. Typical Dayne. Always living for the dramatic moments.”

Aeson laughed at that.

A shriek sounded above, followed by screeching. Aeson looked to the sky to see four of Alina’s wyverns chasing a fifth through the sky. He watched as a wyvern large enough to be a small dragon – Alina’s wyvern, Rynvar – crashed into the fleeing creature and vanished from view. A heartbeat passed before something crashed down somewhere in the trees to the right.

Sounds of crunching leaves and snapping twigs erupted in the forest as soldiers moved like wolves through the brush.

“Loren knows we’re here,” Mera said, squinting through the trees. “But he need not know our number, nor that of the Arkalens and the Narvonans you have brought to our cause. The Andurii prowl the forest. The Wyndarii keep the skies empty.”

“Why is it again you wish to wait until nightfall?” Aeson asked.

“Because they are scared of the dark,” Alina answered, looking down at the keep. “Dayne made sure of it. Now all we need to do is wait for Belina Louna to give us the signal that the gates have been opened.”

---