Page 11 of A War of Embers

“Tell me, immortal, what has made your life so tragic you wish to seek counsel from beyond your veil?” Sereia asks without turning around.

“That’s none of your business.”

“A fool led you here, into my sea with the hope of my aid, yet I do not get to know what drove you here?”

“No.”

“Did this fool tell you to go to your Godlands or to speak with the monks and spiritualists who work at the Tower to the High Gods? Or did the fool only lead you here?”

Suspicion snares my mind. The Godlands are off limits to everyone, including the District gods. Only the original gods are permitted to be there. Not to mention they’re deep in the mountains over rugged terrain, capped in snow and ice with monsters acting as guards. There’s no telling if a High God, the parental figures of the gods who dwell in the mortal world, would see someone like me.

From my understanding, High Gods came here long ago from another place, another realm almost, through some portal to escape war and strife, and live here. They copulated with mortals, creating their godlike children, but left them in the mortals’ care while returning close to the portal. Supposedly they draw their magic from it, but it’s only a rumor. So many rumors, there’s no telling what possesses a kernel of truth.

The Lords and Ladies here act as our governing body, while the High Gods could care less about what their offspring are doing. Enslaving the mortals? Probably just another afternoon to them.

Something tells me on this side of the sea, these people would bat an eye. They already went to war once to maintain their way of life.

“I had no reason to doubt him,” I lie. I feel so stupid looking back, letting Justin get into my head. Of all people to listen to, he never should’ve made the list.

“Then that was your mistake.”

She doesn’t need to rub salt in the wound, but I glower at her back nonetheless. This entire lifespan has been nothing but one shitty thing after another. There’s no moment of peace, of tranquility. All the things you supposedly receive when you die.

“Here.” Sereia stops walking, the mist before us clearing the way until there’s a rocky looking mountain leading upwards out of the sea.

“We walked the entire sea floor that fast?“ The skepticism is clear in my voice. Will this lead me back to Tellus?

Sereia chuckles, a rusty sound if I’ve ever heard one. “The sand moves with us. I do not let those unwelcome in my home run amok on the seafloor. Magic is everywhere, in everything, even what the eye cannot see. The sand guides us, pushing us towards our path without judgment. It will lead you where you wish to go. And you, immortal, wish to die. The sand delivers your death.” She gestures towards the rocks. “Climb your way up. Someone will be waiting for you. I hope we never meet again, Keres Anderson.”

The sand before me begins to swirl and rise, the mist quickly sucking in Sereia’s body as it takes her back out to sea. Maybe another fool jumped into the water and is drowning, needing her attention. Either way, her quick departure only leaves me with one option.

I stare upwards, at where the water thrashes above my head, reminding me there is land and people waiting for me. What if this is a trick leading me back to Cinnabar? There’s only one way to find out.

Curling my fingers over the rocks, I begin to climb. My muscles protest, my body tightening as my lungs feel as though a pressure is squeezing me tight. Water suddenly rushes in around me, trying to pull me back down into its depths. I cling to the rocks, fighting to continue upwards.

You do not possess the ability to fear, I remind myself. You do not possess the ability to die.

My head suddenly pushes above the water, my ears popping as my vision dims and tilts the world around me. Still, my fingers, now bleeding from cuts from the rocks, feel numb in the cold sea air. Tilting my head back, the rocks continue to climb towards the gray sky. And just on the cusp of my vision, where the rock and sky meet, I see a sparkle of gold.

My body shakes from the cold water clinging to me. Even as I maneuver my limbs closer to the top of the rocks, something feels off inside of me. Perhaps the souls are reacting differently to being beyond the veil. To where they supposedly come from. Or maybe this is the punishment I get for jumping into the Blood Sea like a crazed woman.

A few passing moments slip by before my hand finds the smooth surface of the top of the rocks. Bracing my forearm, I haul my body up and over, rolling onto my back as I stare up at the sky.

Gold.

A city of gold stretches before me like nothing I’ve ever seen. The buildings are thick marble in various shades, all boasting gold roofs at varying heights and slants. There’s an aristocratic ambiance to the view, yet eerily deserted of people.

Until a hand suddenly dives into my field of vision, grabbing at my chin to twist my gaze off the beauty of the buildings to the man now crouched before me.

His ebony skin is littered with white ink scrawling up and down his arms. A gray shirt and black cargo pants give off a typical military vibe. Maybe the Blood City has their own version of Royal Guards to keep their populace in line. Still, his brown eyes aren’t hard as he looks at me, but they’re not kind eyes either. Militant. Assessing. Not cruel but not merciful.

Jerking my chin out of his reach, I twist the opposite direction and push upwards until I’m squatting in a crouch to match his own position.

Silently we stare at each other, the waves cresting and crashing against the rocks, the only sound to be heard. My heart still beats wildly in my chest, the cold dissipating as my focus turns to the stranger with white ink.

“She must like you if she didn’t peel your body from your soul,” the man comments with a lazy drawl. A dark eyebrow presses upwards. “The Blood Witch doesn’t typically allow someone to pass so easily.”

I’m not sure easily is the word I would use when describing dealing with Sereia. “She told me to find her son.”

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