Page 106 of Destroyer

Underneath the illustration was a caption:

The ancient god Festra, symbolized here as “Infinite Night” (c. 840, Mekyan archives) visits fiery destruction upon humanity. No longer worshiped by any structured religions, some Mekyan folklore traditions believe that the Destruction of Ordellun-by-the-Sea was brought about by Festra himself, in the form of the traitor Taryel.

She read the caption several times, her sleep-addled brain taking far too long to grasp it. Meaning fell into place with a rush as she realized with a start that she had seen this image before, somewhere else. Fingers shaking, Ru pulled open her desk drawer.

Careful not to make too much noise, she fished around in the drawer until she found what she was looking for: the pamphlet Simon had sent from Mirith. Heart in her throat, she turned it over to the back. And there, just as she had remembered, was the same illustration from the book.

“What are you looking at?”

Gwyneth’s voice nearly startled Ru out of her skin.

“Gwyn!” she gasped. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Ru had been so engrossed in her discovery that she hadn’t heard her friend come up behind her in the darkness.

But Gwyneth was distracted, peering over Ru’s shoulder at the leaflet in her hands. “Praise the Destroyer, for He anoints with His cleansing fire,” she said slowly, sounding out the words. “That’s a bit grim.”

Ru was already scrambling to her feet, pulling Gwyneth with her. “That’s what the caption says? You can read it?”

“Well, sort of. Everyone unfortunate enough to be born in a noble family learns all the ancient languages,” said Gwyneth. “But I’ve mostly forgotten them, just like everyone else. Why, what is it? Are you all right? Ru, yesterday, the artifact, it knocked you out again.”

Ru paused, the leaflet still clutched in her clammy hands. “And?”

Gwyneth’s face fell, her expression fracturing. “It’s just that… Ru, you’ve been sleeping for a day and a half. You can’t just leap up and start wandering around at night, you have to take things slowly. You don’t know what it’s been like for Arch and me, we’re…” she paused, her voice faltering. “I’ve been so worried.”

Gwyneth shuddered with a quiet sob, tears streaming down her face, and Ru realized with a growing horror that this was her fault. She had allowed her repeated failure, her loss of Fen and the artifact, to overtake her mind and body until she’d become something like an empty shell. She had become so self-obsessed, so overcome with the indulgence of her own misery, that she’d spoken directly to the artifact again. It hadn’t evenaskedher to. She had simply done it out of spite.

Ru gathered Gwyneth in her arms, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed into her friend’s hair. “I’ve been a rotten friend. Rotten.”

“You haven’t,” Gwyneth sniffled, pulling away at last. “I understand. We both do, me and Arch. We’ve just been soworried.”

“I know,” said Ru, a pang of regret twisting in her gut. “I knew it the whole time and didn’t care. I put all of you in danger,twice.”

“We understand,” said Gwyneth. “Truly. I’m just glad you’re alive and awake, and… Hartford said this last time you fainted… that it might have taken a toll on your sanity. I couldn’t leave your side.”

“You’re a better friend than I could have asked for if given the choice,” Ru said and meant it with every piece of herself. “But Gwyn, I have to show you something. Come sit with me in the moonlight.”

Ru showed Gwyneth the two illustrations, explaining how she came across them. How she’d found the book, flipped through it almost at random… how Simon had sent the leaflet as some kind of clue. He had overestimated her ability to draw connections, and more than anything, her ability to read ancient languages. But Ru now finally understood.

When Ru was finished explaining, Gwyneth’s expression was incredulous. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger, silvery in the moonlight. “Praise the Destroyer, for He anoints with His cleansing fire,” she said, reciting the caption again. “How could we have missed something like this? The Children … they worship Festra?”

“They worshipTaryel.This illustration is from the Mekyan archive, and look — some Mekyan folklore traditions equate Festra to Taryel. You said this word means Destroyer? That has to be a reference to Taryel. Who else do we call by that name?”

Gwyneth frowned. “But why would they worship someone who destroyed an entire city? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe the illustration is a warning.”

Ru shot her a meaningful look. “Read the description again. Festra visits fiery destruction upon humanity. Why would they print this specific image on their leaflets? He anoints with Hiscleansing fire? That doesn’t exactly sound promising, Gwyn. Fire doesn’t cleanse, it burns. It destroys. Like what Taryel did to Ordellun-by-the-Sea.”

“That seems like a bit of a leap to make,” Gwyneth murmured, peering at the leaflet and frowning. “And I told you, my languages are rusty. It’s probably one of those ancient religious things, frightening people into submission with grim rhetoric. Nobody’s actually going to be cleansed with fire.”

“Is that much better, in our particular circumstance?” Ru asked, jabbing the leaflet with a finger to emphasize her point. “Would you be more comfortable with Lord D’Luc poking and prodding at the artifact — atme —now knowing the questionable basis of his spiritual doctrine?”

Gwyneth said nothing.

Ru folded the leaflet and held it in shaking hands, speaking her thoughts aloud. “You’re probably right, Gwyn. The Children are probably just harmless oddities with outdated notions and antiquated practices. But I don’t like it. I don’t trust the Children, I don’t trust the regent or Lord D’Luc. What he pushed me to do this past week, he was relentless, he…” She paused, shaking her head, willing away the bitterness that gathered in her like a storm cloud. “All I know is that I don’t trust him. Whatever he wants from the artifact, from me, it’s more important to him than I had thought. More than I can understand. The way he looks at it…”

“It’s all right,” Gwyneth said, “we won’t let him push you anymore. The demonstrations are over.”

Ru nodded, blinking back tears of anger and shame. She had trusted Lord D’Luc so fully. And now, looking back on the way he’d spoken to her, the way his eyes glittered in the lamplight of the dungeon… he cared only for himself, for the artifact and what it might give him.

And with a sickening realization, bile rising suddenly in her throat, Ru grabbed Gwyneth’s arm. “Gwyn,” she breathed. “The artifact.”

---