Page 57 of The Shadowbound and the False God

Eventually, Raif joined them beside the fire. He sounded withdrawn when he asked, “It’s true?”

Aisling kept her gaze locked on the glowing embers at the base of the fire. Despite how long she’d been there staring at it, the flames hadn’t gotten any lower, nor had the logs crumbled away. The flames licked and leapt in the same patterns, repeating over and over in an infinite loop.

“Yes.” She paused, then added, “I guess I could have broken the news a little more delicately, though.” It wasn’t how she’d intended to tell them. She wanted to be gentle. Empathetic. But in that moment, the last small bit of restraint she’d been clinging to had broken. Anger had sapped the last of her dwindling patience, and the words had come tumbling from her mouth unabated. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Kael—hadn’t wanted to hurt any of them—but she’d done so anyway.

Raif nodded. “Likely so.”

“What did He tell you?” Kael’s voice from the chamber’s entrance brought all three to turn. His expression was cold and devoid of emotion; his eyes betrayed none of his thoughts. But Aisling knew—could feel—exactly what he felt. He thought hera fool at best; a liar at worst. She dug her nails into her palms. Before she could bite back, Sudryl stepped around his legs and gestured toward one of several openings in the chamber wall.

“The story of Elowas—of the Silver Saints and the Star-Eater—was recorded here in Antiata long ago. I can show you.”

Wordlessly, the group followed the alseid through the doorway into a smaller chamber, lit by two torches wedged into the roots that snaked between the stones.

Aisling felt it again—that profound sort of rightness—as she stepped into the center and turned in a slow circle. Every inch of solid surface was marked with faded ink that swirled with the grain of the stones as though part of the rock patterns themselves. Amongst the depictions in the mural, her eyes found Yalde instantly. He held open his cloak to show the galaxies he hid beneath.

Aisling moved closer and pointed to him, careful not to let the tip of her finger touch the image. “Here—this is him. Yalde.”

Sudryl shook her head. She took hold of Aisling’s wrist and led her to the other side of the chamber, near the door. Kael, Rodney, and Raif all moved out of their way.

“Start from the beginning,” she said, pressing Aisling’s palm to the wall. The version of Yalde there lacked the blindfold he wore when Aisling met him. His eyes, even painted as they were, made her take a step back and withdraw her hand sharply. The artist had captured so much cruelty there. It was a cunning sort of cruelty; more insidious than plain evil.

Sudryl began to speak then, quietly. Reverently. “The gods came before the Fae—they walked freely between Elowas and Wyldraíocht. But they grew tired of tending to both realms. So from the stars, they created the first Fae race in their image to care for Wyldraíocht in their stead.”

“Light Bringers,” Aisling whispered at the same time as Rodney said, “Tuatha Dé Danann.”

Sudryl nodded. She continued to move her hand across the mural as though she were reading it. “The Tuatha Dé Danann worshipped the gods, and the gods grew stronger as a result. More powerful.”

“But not all, correct? You said Orist never needed worship.” Raif had moved closer, examining the art for himself as Sudryl told the story. She shot him a withering look.

“Would you like to tell our history, or shall I continue?” When he gestured apologetically, Sudryl nodded and said, “The god Yalde—your Low One—never cared to remain in Elowas with the others; he preferred to walk amongst the Fae, cultivating their piety in any form he could. He fell deeper and deeper into corruption. The more he was worshipped, the more worship he craved. Thedarkerworship he craved.”

“Sacrifice,” Aisling murmured. Though she had already scrubbed away the markings on her stomach with the sleeve of Rodney’s sweater, her skin burned faintly at the thought. She was to be sacrificed—Kael, Shadowbound though he was, was meant to sacrifice her. Unconsciously, her hand slipped up beneath the fabric to rest against her skin. It was hot to the touch, but still she felt chilled.

“By that time, many of the first Fae had intermarried with other Fae races. The Seelie and Unseelie Courts began to take shape, and Solitary Fae withdrew further. It was amongst the sects formed within these three groups that Yalde found his footholds. He became whatever they sought: guidance. Light. Shadow. He took on new names, new forms.” Sudryl’s tiny, pointed nails scraped against the stone surface. It was the only sound in the chamber besides her thin voice as the rest of the group had fallen silent. Aisling had to remind herself to breathe.

“But the last of the original Tuatha Dé Danann saw through his tricks—and Yalde took notice. He wiped many of them out until only three remained: your Silver Saints. In a great battle, theystole Yalde’s eyes, thus gaining their Far Sight. With it, they saw their own demise and the end of their race at his hands. So they imprisoned him here in Elowas and went into hiding, returning to the stars.”

Their likeness was there on the wall, faded but unmistakable in the way they glowed. The Silver Saints stood together, hands outstretched to a Fae female kneeling at their feet. They held a small orb of light between them; the faerie reached up for it with both hands.

“When the Silver Saints closed the door between realms, the lesser gods became trapped here in Elowas with him. And it was not long before they fell prey to Yalde’s darkness. He weakened them, stealing their worship for himself until, to protect Orist from his reach, they gave all that was left of their power to create Antiata and brought what remained of the realm down around themselves.” Sudryl’s voice dropped, and her eyes glazed over. She remembered this part of the history for herself, Aisling understood. She’d lived it. It took the slight faerie several beats before she was able to speak again.

“Except even the collapse of Elowas was not strong enough to keep Yalde imprisoned. Though he could no longer traverse freely between here and Wyldraíocht, he learned to send manifestations of his power through his footholds, as many of the lesser gods had before. As Orist still does.” She gestured towards the roots overhead. “The continued worship he received kept him fed, and his ability to give seeds of his own magic to those Fae who would be court royals—who then maintained their connection to him through that magic—kept him alive.”

Sudryl twisted around to face Kael then and said, “Youkept him alive.” The statement wasn’t one of accusation, but of fact. Even still, Aisling noticed the way Raif bristled. Kael didn’t react; he just stood, shoulders rounded, gazing at the mural. His icy expression had melted into one of defeat, of despair. Aislingconsidered going to him, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Instead, she watched quietly the look of painful understanding deepening in his eyes until she had to avert her own.

“How is it that this was not known?” Raif demanded. “In every book, in every library across our realm—surely it is written somewhere.”

“The story of Wyldraíocht was not recorded until long after Yalde was banished to Elowas. History is written by believers; truth is too often lost to time.”

It was Rodney who finally cleared his throat and broke the heavy silence. “Ash…what did he say to you?”

Aisling kept her eyes trained on the dirt floor, on the mud that caked her boots. She couldn’t stand to look at any of them. When she spoke, her voice wavered around the lump that had formed in her throat at the knowledge of how much more it would hurt Kael to hear the rest. “Having Kael here changed something. I don’t fully understand it—he said that he’d collapse Elowas and Wyldraíocht into each other, and he’ll do to the Fae what he did to Kael. He said they’d serve him.”

“They’ll be Shadowbound,” Kael said flatly. His hand flexed at his side as though he still felt the remnants of Yalde’s possession there. Aisling could have reached out to take it in her own. She didn’t.

The weight of the revelation seemed to suck the remaining air out of the room as they privately contemplated what it all meant, each one of them undoubtedly evaluating the personal implications. Raif would be picturing Elasha, her bright eyes turned black. Aisling thought Rodney would fear the same fate for himself, losing the freedom he so valued as a Solitary Fae. Kael…she wasn’t sure what he was thinking of now. He might have been considering the fall of the kingdom he’d given his life for, or a return to the darkness she’d pulled him from with his name.

Aisling saw beings slithering out of the old mine, slipping into human skins like whatever had inhabited Cole. Yalde would bring a return to the old ways of worship, and the Shadowbound would use those stolen, familiar faces to lure in humans to sacrifice.

---