Page 22 of Flight of Fate

“Careful what you’re saying,” Royad hushes, even when I’m not using words—not even in my mind—and he can’t understand them. It’s the way the air in the room seems to grow denser and the smell of dust and blood and melting candle wax is turning thicker, almost tangible?—

Until the form on the wall—the one whose shoulder I’d sat on a moment ago—starts moving and peels away from the carved rock to melt into a nondescript shape that’s neither human nor fae or bird but rather wind and darkness and the void between the stars.

Royad is on his knees so fast I can’t even turn my head to see it happen. Even Kaira is sinking to the floor, one knee touching the hard stone, head lowered and hands on her daggers.

I have the distinct feeling I should be terrified, but there’s something familiar about the smoke coiling and wafting around the edges of the creature.

“You have come to ask questions, mortal,” a deep, male voice reverberates through the temple, and I gasp for air as I recognize Shaelak—darkness given form.

“I have come to demand answers,”I blurt.

Behind me, Royad half chokes on a cough at my tone.

“Demands, Ayna, are for immortals. Who are you but a human stuck in the body of a bird?” Like ink in water, his voice carries on the dark smoke, quivering and spinning before it dissolves on a phantom wind, but the creature before me is sharpening, growing. He’s half the height of the temple now, eyes of onyx peering down at me like pits of eternity.

“You sounded a little different last time you reminded me I’m the Queen of Crows. Mate to an immortal king.”

Is it stupid to provoke a god like this? Absolutely. But I can’t help it. I need answers. Ineedto turn back into my human form.

“Queen of Crows, indeed. But still mortal.” He bends forward, bringing that otherworldly focus closer until I’m gobbled up in that darkness and Royad’s shout of warning frays like ash on a gust of wind. My heart leaps into my throat, beating so violently my little bird body might fall apart, but I hold my ground, staring down the deity who has forged my path as much as the Sister Guardian—Vala.

“Mortal or no, you’ve gifted me your power. You’vemadea Crow. It’s not you who got me stuck in this form; it was your sister.”

Perhaps a little quarrel among siblings might help him make up his mind.

In the background, Kaira’s calling my name, but I can no longer see beyond where Shaelak ends. I’m not even in the same room as I was before. The night sky stretches in the god’s eyes, silver stars glimmering in the darkness like beacons, and I understand that the power the Crows wield is the light of those stars given form.

“My sister didn’t get you stuck as you call it. You made a choice to use her power while in the form I gifted you. It’s the law of nature that requires balance. Only true immortals can wield their powers as they wish. Unless you step into your destiny, you will remain in this form. You will age in this form and die in this form, and your immortal mate will die of a broken heart once you do.”

My throat is too dry to even whimper a caw.

“My sister cannot help you, neither can I. You need to find your path on your own.” The darkness flickers around us as if Shaelak is beginning to withdraw back into the carving of his form, but I find my voice.

“So is this my destiny then? I need to become truly immortal?”However that is even possible. I hadn’t allowed myself to ponder the implications that being a Crow might haveon my lifespan. Perhaps I’d assumed that already made me Myron’s equal in every way. That I’d at least have an extended lifespan if not immortality.

Apparently, I was wrong.

“Not wrong, Ayna. Youarehis equal in every way that counts, or I wouldn’t have made you into what you are. But it’s only you who can take that final step. It’s onlyyouwho can choose to leave the mortal world behind.”

His words clang through me like iron chains in a bucket of water, spilling and splashing and taking up entirely too much space in my mind.

As fast as he appeared, the darkness withdraws, and the candles wink out, leaving behind the thin afternoon light filtering in through the slits high up in the walls. I don’t even get to object before the carving of the male with whorls of what I now know to be the blackest night reappears on the wall, and the temple turns silent except for my thundering heart.

Fourteen

Ayna

Immortality.

“One doesn’t simplychooseimmortality.” Royad is brushing the settling dust from his cloak with his free hand, but in the other one, he’s tucked me to his chest in a copy of what Myron would do after the God of Crows, of Darkness, and whatever else anyone wonders Shaelak could be the god of, swallowed and isolated me in his cocoon of night.

I could swear, beneath his composure, he’s shaking.

“Especially not if two deities are refusing to actually help with it,” Kaira seconds his sentiment.

We still haven’t fully recovered from the shock of Shaelak’s presence, but apparently, I’m the only one still shocked enough not to have words to contribute to the conversation. Kaira and Royad are already in full-on troubleshooting mode, talking through eventualities.

If I age in this form and die… Myron will die. His life is tied to my lack of immortality. Of course there is a price for what I’ve become. He was willing to lay down his life for me when I broke the curse on his people. Of course now his life is tied to mine, if only in its mortality.

---