Page 80 of The War of Wings
I knew this. I knew this already. But… “You took the other baby.”
“I did. And there was one family who’d prayed to me fervently for years, asking me to end their pain. They desperately wanted to start a family, and none of the healers had been able to help them. So I left her at the gates of their kingdom and waited in the shadows for her to be found.”
I gasped, shooting to my feet as my hands flew to my mouth. It all made sense — the icy blue eyes, the blonde hair, the almost identical features. “Cielle.”
Tyrak nodded, his shoulders falling a bit, as if that fact had been a weight on his shoulders since the day he’d switched us. “Yes. Cielle.”
Fucking Saints.
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“I’m telling you this because no part of your life has ever truly been yours. And you do, in fact, have a choice.”
I straightened in my seat, my eyes narrowing on him. “What are you talking about?”
I could feel the turmoil coursing through him. “Malosym is of the Old World, and so much is unknown of his origin and his power. We suspect he can’t actually kill a Saint, but we don’t know with certainty. If it’s true, if he could kill Rhedros or Katia–” His voice broke on my mother’s name as pain creased his face. “The results would be catastrophic.”
“Yes,” I said with a slow nod. “I’m aware it’s unknown whether he truly has the power to kill a Saint. The Benevolent Saints informed me of such. But what does this have to do with me having a choice in all of this?”
His eyes closed for a brief moment as he whispered to himself, “Katia forgive me.” And when his eyes opened, resolveglimmered from within their depths. “Malosym is the son of two of the Forgotten Saints.”
I blinked for a moment, my mind suddenly blank. “Okay…”
“The Forgotten Saints had dozens and dozens of children with each other, and the children of the Forgotten Saints were called Extos.”Extos.I tumbled the word around in my head, and it seemed to wriggle its way into my brain. “Extos had their own powers, usually some weakened derivative of their parents’ powers, though they were nowhere near as powerful.
“Eraura, Saint of Love, and Shovhor, Saint of Loss, only ever had one child together, and that was Malosym. They did not have any other children because they quickly realized something was very, very wrong with him.
“To the outside world, Extos were essentially human until their powers developed in early adulthood. They may have shown some minor traits of magic, slight healing abilities, for example. But until they came into their power, they were just as susceptible to injury and death as humans were, by any force.
“Even before Malosym came into his power, it was plain to see darkness had taken root within him. It wasn’t long before the other Saints were calling for him to be culled, to put an end to any chance of that darkness growing before it had the chance to grow stronger. So, as a young child, he escaped to the forest and spent his youth there, killing small forest animals.”
I winced, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. “Shit.”
“But then he realized…” Tyrak inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth, as if he were trying to calm himself. “The longer the suffering, the more power he gained. And so came the realization that he fed on pain. Forest animals were no longer sufficient, and as his powers developed, he needed more. We were told he claimed his first human victim the day he came into his full power, solidifying his status as an Extos, and the first Occulti demon sprang to life from the chest of that victim.”
“What?”
“Now,” Tyrak continued, “whether Malosym’s power had grown so great it gained a physical form or this human somehow had this evil festering inside them that Malosym happened to free, we’ll never know. On his own as an Extos, he was powerful. But that first Occulti made him unstoppable. The world had never seen anything like the new demon. And with Malosym’s dark power that was so different from that of the other Extos, he quickly became an outcast, of course. With no full-blooded brothers or sisters of his own and two parents who wanted nothing to do with him, he was always on the outside. He was reprimanded for killing humans, but there was no punishment that would hold him down for long. Somehow, that single Occulti demon split, creating two, then four, until the realm was overrun with them. And humans were no longer enough to satisfy Malosym’s craving for pain.
“Until one day, he invited the Forgotten Saints and all of the Extos for a feast. He claimed he wanted to change his ways and invited everyone to help him on his newfound path.”
“That’s not what happened, is it?” I asked carefully, though I already knew the answer.
Tyrak shook his head, swallowing hard. “No. In front of everyone, he killed Eraura and Shovhor, his parents.”
I should’ve gasped. I should’ve been surprised. But I wasn’t. “He could kill Saints in the Old World?”
“An Extos could kill a Saint in the Old World, yes. But the Holy Beings of the Old World could only be killed by their own bloodline. And with no brothers or sisters, from that point Malosym was completely unstoppable.”
Every one of my muscles went slack with defeat. “So we’re fucked.”
“No. Not necessarily.” Discomfort was evident in his features, as if every word he spoke felt like a betrayal. Maybe that was the case. “You are aware Rhedros was intended to be a force of good, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he is the son of the Forgotten Saints Aislar, Saint of Grace and Fasios, Saint of Clemency. Which means Rhedros is an Extos, just as Malosym is. Which means you…”
The words should’ve elicited some sort of response from me, but I was numb. “I’m an Extos?”
