Page 49 of Of Vows and War: Special Edition
“Pause. What is a seed?”
“That’s what we call the magic that is passed down from one high demon to the next. It’s what gives our magic color. Like the core of an apple.”
“Then why not call it a core?”
“Fine, like the seed of an apple being replanted into a demon of one’s line that is strong enough to ascend.”
“Shut up and let her tell us the story, Noe.”
“She took my chocolate,” she whined, letting her head fall off the edge and draping her arm over her eyes with a groan of false pain.
“You will live,” the prince retorted, kicking her foot off of his.
“Anyways, when Asta refused to come home and marry Padon, Stella let her remain here on Alemthian. Padon was enraged, and after he killed Asta’s lover, he banished Stella. Which means we are now missing two seeds of magic.”
“How weird that the story became so skewed over time,” Noe commented as she pouted. I wondered if that was because few demons had access to the journals, or if it was because the journals simply held no relevant information. Silently, I prayed to Eternity that it was the former.
“What is so special about the seeds?”
“Our world needs them. It is the only one that we have found that can sustain so much magic, but it requires us to feed that same magic back into it.”
“Like an offering?” Bellamy asked, his eyes wide in wonder.
“Sort of. Our great ancestors crafted the gems, one for each of the ten high demons. The gems hold the magic we siphon into them, and then they feed the world itself. But, with two seeds being gone, we don’t have enough to feed the gems. Not only is our world slowly dying, crops and animals and even low demonsperishing because of it, but the magic itself is volatile. It rebels against us, sometimes not working at all.”
“So you seek Stella’s seed to restore balance, but how will you find the Time and Void seed if it has been missing for so long?”
“Well, nosy prince, Stella searched for a very long time with no luck, but she was in mourning then. Plus, if I can convince Padon to stop being an idiot, then I am positive he can help. He is just quite set in his ways at the moment.”
“His ways being Ash,” Noe interjected, peeking at me from beneath her arm.
“Currently, yes. Before it was bitterness that stopped him. Stella and Achari, the holder of Time and Void, were not just our rulers. They were the oldest of us. And their daughters, Solana and Asta, were close in age to Padon and I. We had all been friends—family. Plus, Padon and I had been forced to ascend far earlier than normal, so it was nice having both mentors and parental figures in the Empress and Emperor. But when Padon didn’t get his way with Asta, he rebelled against the being who practically helped raise him. He didn’t want to look for Achari or Solana. All he wanted was the throne.”
I fiddled with my fingers, suddenly so unsure of what I was meant to be doing. My entire existence had been inconsequential until now. Nothing was ever expected of me. This task was the exact opposite. Everything came down to me finding Stella.
“But if I can find her and get them to talk, maybe I can change his mind and stop this ridiculous war before it starts. We have enough problems without making you lousy creatures another one of them.”
“You are pretty rude for someone who came to us for help. Speaking of which, we had three journals locked away in the royal library’s vault,” Noe said, pointing to a spot on the bed beside her where black shadows writhed. I stood, hastily makingmy way to the small pile of worn leather books that now sat to her left.
“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that for the sake of convenience,” I muttered, snatching all three journals up. Sitting next to her, I slouched into the flat pillows and readied for answers.
The two of them watched as I opened the book to the final entry and read, my eyes watering as I heard Asta’s low and enchanting voice narrating the words in my head.
I dreamt of Zohar and Zayan again. Or perhaps it was a nightmare.
They died in my arms, just as they had all those years ago. I think I deserve such a fate. Choosing a mortal does that, tortures and maims the heart. When I first kissed Zohar, I thought the universe itself had shifted somehow. As if suddenly, everything was him—us—our hearts. Now I think I realize that it was just my own selfishness swaying me. Yes, the nightmares are my payment.
In my sleeping moments I see Death and Creation. I see my husband’s blood on the hands of my old lover and wish for nothing more than to tear his soul straight from his body. If only he had one.
Mother says I can’t do that. She swears that it would be a waste of precious time. She sounds like Father. Always on about the importance of time and its finite treasures.
Tomorrow I meet with the one called Oracle. She says she can give me better answers. I’m sure it’s going to be nonsense. Everything always is.
I think I’m ready to say goodbye. I wonder if Mother will help.
A tear dangled on my lower lashes as I finished. She had been so broken.
The Asta I knew had been vibrant and happy. The Asta that had died upon this soil had been shattered and bruised. I slammed the book closed and grabbed another.
