Page 15 of Queen of Legends and Lies
“Your Highness, would you like us to accompany you?” A guard materializes from nowhere.
For a soldier of such high status, he has a young face, but his shoulders are broad. He’d moved so smoothly, I wouldn’t have known of his presence without him speaking. I’ve never seen this man before.
“No, thank you.” I dismiss the offer with a wave, showing him the jar I brought with me. “I’d like to pray to the goddess Nyc.”
“May your prayers reach her ears and no others.” He bows, retreating without question.
Alone at last, I kneel and set the jar on the ground, then I reach for the satchel of ash I’d brought for this occasion. Dipping my hand in the bag, I smudge the ash over my eyes, forehead, and ears. Doing so symbolizes my desire to see, hear, and learn from the darkness.
Ready, I open the jar and whisper my prayers to Nyc as I set the claw inside. Then I carefully close it again, draping my handkerchief over the top to ensure no light intrudes.
I sense her arrival in the subtle atmospheric shift, the charged air a silent acknowledgment of my plea. Living darkness surrounds me, muffling the rest of the world.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to summon me.” Nyc’s presence swells around me as she shrouds me with her impatience. Her voice reminds me of a frigid breeze. “Narc’s strength and his all-consuming desire to be reborn grow with each drop of dragon blood spilled upon the field.”
My stomach knots. “How? I thought I freed all the dragons Xenon was bleeding.”
“You did, but the Aclarian king is no fool. He has plenty of dragon blood stored. With each day that passes, Narc’s body reforms. He is a nightmare coming to life. Quite literally. We cannot allow Xenon to spill your blood on Narc’s bones. My son must be stopped.”
My heart squeezes at the sadness in the goddess’s tone. Is she asking me to destroy her son? I swallow hard. “How?”
She doesn’t answer, and for a moment, I worry it’s because she doesn’t have one. If the gods knew this could happen, would they have left Narc’s body under the eyril field in the first place? Or are they simply not allowed to intervene?
Finally, Nyc says, “It’s best that he comes back to me.”
What does that even mean? “Explain. Please.”
There’s a pregnant pause, and I’m almost certain the temperature drops a degree or two. “Just know the best thing you can do for your people, for the world, is to make sure his body isn’t resurrected. You must stop him from waking to the mortal realm again. Must burn his bones. Large armies are growing even bigger across your little earth. You must move faster. And do better.”
Her rebuke smolders, the sting of divine disappointment mingled with urgency.
I open my eyes, aware of the expectation, the threat of war looming like storm clouds on the horizon.
The council may not agree with my methods, but I know this much is true. If we don’t act—ifIdon’t act—our world will crumble under the shadow of Narc’s resurgence. “Torching the eyril field didn’t work the last time I tried, so I don’t know how I’d burn Narc’s bones. What exactly do I need to do? Can’t you just tell me?”
The goddess grumbles. If I could see her, I’m pretty sure I’d witness a stellar example of a death glare. “I cannot.”
Fierce frustration blooms within me. “Why?”
For a moment, silence is my only answer. Then Nyc’s voice flows through the stillness, as if carried on the wind itself. “It is not permitted. You were given free will. With that comes responsibility. Gods are not allowed to interfere with the free will of mortals.”
Her words hang between us, an invisible barrier I can’t breach.
That was Narc’s sin. What led to his death. In his mad quest for perfect people who would do no wrong, he removed their free will.
The free will the gods had promised to all living creatures.
The goddess of darkness will not defy her fellow deities, not even with her son’s soul and the entire world at risk.
Nyc slips away, her presence receding like a tide pulling back from the shore, leaving me stranded.
Alone, I stare out across the garden, lost in thought. The information, or lack thereof, that Nyc graced me with swirls in my mind.
Is it even information when it breeds more questions than answers?
“Gods.” The word is part prayer, part curse. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.” The irony isn’t lost on me, but it brings no smile to my lips, only a deep-seated resolve.
I push to my feet. My wings fold against my back, reminding me of the strength they hold. A strength I need now more than ever.
