Page 56 of Return of the Darkness
“Soren Mordane.” She opened her eyes at the parting crowd andimmediately knelt, bowing her head. He wore a deep green jacket, crisp trousers, and freshly polished shoes. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned from the crowd, heading down a street that led to the edge of Hybrooke Forest. “Walk with me,” the God of Earth, Garridon, called in a rough accent. Soren wasted no time in rising and hurrying past the crowd behind her god.
He was taller than she remembered, his stance wider and presence more demanding. Soren recalled their last meeting, the way he sensed Caligh’s presence in her mind and stopped her killing Caellum. In a clearer state of mind, she realised how grateful she was for his interference. She could not bear to think about the look on Sadira’s face had she followed through with it. It was not what Soren wanted. Caellum protected her sister and made her happy when Soren could not.
“You seem in calmer spirits,” Garridon said, slowing his pace for Soren to catch up as they exited the city and strode for the forest.
“There is something about this place that repels the darkness in my mind,” Soren said, stealing a look at her god.
“That does not surprise me. Caligh may hate me, but power has a trace, Soren. It remembers things, and his darkness in you remembers the past. Being here, the darkness is both curious and scared.” As Garridon walked, the trees shifted for him, clearing a path as a hawk landed on his shoulder, watching. Soren tilted her head and smiled. Before Caligh, she always had a natural calling to animals.
“My guardian. Pay him no attention,” Garridon said, stopping in a small clearing in the woods. Moss coated the floor and ivy climbed up the tree stump in the centre where Garridon perched on the edge and crossed his legs.
“If I may, how did you know Caligh?” Soren asked, bowing her head. Garridon smiled and glanced down, tapping his thigh.
“Caligh was a friend once. Well, he was more than that at another point in time.” Soren raised her eyebrows at the thought of being romantically involved with someoneso evil. Garridon patted the spot on the stump beside him, and she hesitated. It seemed so informal to sit next to the god she had been raised to respect. Yet when Garridon paused his story, she sat. “We have a long and sordid history—I will spare you many of the details. But I discovered Caligh was using my people in ways I did not condone. It divided us and my lands. The Wiccan people, once a great race, have since halved and are now embroiled in war.”
“War? Where?” Soren asked, oblivious to any discontent between the Wiccan she had known. Wolves howled in the distance, and Soren straightened, searching for Seiko or Varna.
“They are not your wolves,” Garridon said, ignoring her question. “They are my first wolves, the oldest.” Garridon tapped his fingers again. “Where was I? Ah! Yes. When I found out he was using my people, I banished him from my lands and cut off his access to thethingshe had created. He never forgave me; he has a bitter heart.” Garridon turned to face his descendent, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “It is sadly why he targeted my realm for his corruption and why he targeted you. I am sorry for that, Soren.” Emotion overcame Soren, who swallowed her tears at his sincerity, surprised he would care for one small person in the blip of his existence.
“Is that why you stopped me in the temple from killing the king?” Soren asked. “You knew it was not truly my action or will.” The god nodded and extended his arm for the hawk. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I would have ever come back from that.”
“Eventually you would have, especially if you ended up here. But your relationship with Sadira would not have survived.” Garridon whistled, and the hawk took off. A lump rose in Soren’s throat at the idea of never making amends with her sister.
“Why do you care about me?” Soren asked, and the god chuckled. She hoped she had not offended him.
“Besides feeling a sense of duty to you after Caligh’s revenge, I am also the creator of life,” he said, letting a flower blossom inhis palm. “It is natural I should care about my creations. It is why I tethered past souls here.” Soren frowned, recalling the bodies drifting through the city.
“There are no souls from the other realms?”
“Not a single one. It took a great deal to get away with this, but there are some people who are not ready to move on, people I allow to stay until they are ready to leave.” Soren peered down at her hands; anxiety sat in her stomach as she tried to voice her next question. Garridon patiently waited and tucked a flower behind her hair.
“Are my parents here? My grandmother?”
He smiled. “Perhaps. If you journey further through the forest, you might find them.”
“I do not know if I can face them after all I have done,” she murmured. Garridon squeezed her knee.
“I can take it away, if you wish.” Soren stilled, watching him. “I can remove the remnants of his power lingering in your mind, the power that resurfaces and strangles your spirit. I can take it away, but heed my warning, it will worsen before it gets better. It is the consequence of disturbing such power.”
“Do it,” Soren said without a single doubt in her mind. She wanted it gone, no matter the pain or hallucinations she might experience in the meantime—none of it mattered if it meant ridding his power completely.
“Very well.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Nyzaia
The air rushed out of Nyzaia’s lungs as someone yanked her back with force, gripping tightly to the red sash wrapped over her chest. She only had a second to comprehend what had happened before opening her eyes, peering down into the depths of Nefere Valley—a treacherous drop of jagged rocks which levelled out into the dry cracked earth with nothing to cushion her fall. Rock crumbled at her toes and were it not for the hand pulling Nyzaia back, a second later she would have tipped forward and plunged to her death. She spun as the hand released her, finding Farid surveying their surroundings, confusion underlying his stoic assessment of any threat.
“Perhaps our shared destiny means I’ll always be here to save you from plummeting to your death.” Farid kept his face neutral and his hand on the pommel of his sword as he stepped back towards the edge. Nyzaia stood by his side, more cautious this time, firmly keeping the toes of her boots a step behind Farid’s as they stared out across the realm. Despite the odd brown tinge to the sky and sun, the heat of the realm beat down on their necks with its usual ferocity.
“If the celestial tie would just grant me access to your power and the ability to have wings, I wouldn’t have a problem,” Nyzaia grumbled, crossing her arms and peering over the drop. The corner of Farid’s lips quirked, watching her from the corner of his eye. Nyzaia was reminded of Lord Israar’s reaction to his wings.Nefere.He had called Farid the same name as the valley they now stood before, a valley Nyzaia had been shown in a different form duringher drug-induced dream. The many references left her wondering if there was something greater about Farid, something key to helping them understand the different people and lands, especially as his wings were so unique in Novisia.
“This is… different,” he said. Nyzaia frowned at the valley before glancing up at the sky. “Keres isn’t exactly a vibrant place, particularly across the sands and canyons, butthisfeels drained,” Farid continued, and Nyzaia nodded. The path through Nefere Valley, the surrounding canyon rock, and the sands of the deserts, had always been varying shades of brown-tinged orange. Yet here, the sky matched it, and the trees in the distant oasis were tinged the same shade. Something was wrong.
“Where exactly are we?”
“It appears to be laid out like Novisia, but something’s off.” Farid turned and spun slowly to look in every direction. “Everything is flipped. From where we stand, Tabheri should be on our left, the Neutral City on our right, and Vala behind us. But from here, I can see the mountains.”
