All the Tides of Fate

by Adalyn Grace

  I can’t turn back, now. Not when he’s within my reach.

  Father’s back is to me when we find him, his body made from the red flames he shares with his own steed, a giant elk with silver antlers. Together they charge through the mountains, weaving around geysers that burst into a sky thick with shooting stars, their mist spraying down upon my skin and making the beast beneath me sizzle and steam.

  “Look at me,” I whisper, urging Father to turn and face me. Urging him—begging him—to show me his face and prove it’s him, but fearful I’ll wake up the moment he does.

  But as I urge this to happen, Father turns and the fire around his body fades. For the first time since I watched him burn, I see his face.

  There’s his suntanned skin, wrinkled from years at sea. Warm brown eyes that glow with pride as they look me over. And a smile. Wide and wondrous and beautiful.

  “It’s you. It’s really you.”

  Father doesn’t respond. Instead, he lifts a hand to the sky, using magic I’ve never seen to draw a string of swirling constellations into his palms. They wrap around his hands and dance their way up his arms and shoulders, swirling between shades of pinks and blues and green. Again he laughs, stretching his hand to me. This time, the constellations swirl between his fingers and through my hair. I laugh as they sweep around me before exploding back into the sky, swallowing me in a sea of magic and stars.

  I barely notice my cheeks are tear-soaked as I tilt my head back at them, and I don’t care.

  Though I’ll have to wake from this dream, I pray to any god listening that reality will not come for me soon. I want to stay in this moment for as long as possible. Listening to his laugh. Seeing his smile.

  All my life I’ve wanted this adventure with Father. Now that it’s here, I pray it will last forever, until the galaxy swallows us whole and our world is no more.

  But even the gods have their limits, and they’ve been too kind to me already.

  Father’s body begins to smoke at the edges, and with one swift kick to his steed, he’s charging forward again. Only this time he’s lifting higher and higher, as if racing into the sky. I lean into the wolf beneath me, clutching its fur tight in my fists as it charges forward, following.

  Every second, more and more smoke fizzles from Father’s body. It turns the air around us hazy, constricting my lungs and searing my throat. But still I follow, because there’s no way he’s slipping through my fingers a second time.

  “Don’t stop,” I whisper into the wolf’s ear, flattening myself against it as the smoke begins to shroud us. “Get to him.”

  The beast burns brightly against the haze of smoke, warming my fingers as it charges forward, stopping only when it stands before Father’s halted form.

  He sits tall before me, a gleaming light among smoke and shadows. He’s stolen the moon and wears it as his smile.

  “You certainly did get my sense of adventure.” His words swell with a pride that pierces through my chest with a might more fearsome than any blade.

  “Gods,” I whisper around a mouth thick with cotton as I dismount. My throat scorches with every word. “I miss you.”

  There’s so much I want to tell him. So much I want to say. But Father’s fading into smoke that’s dissipating into the air too quickly. I reach out for him, desperate to find a way to keep him here with me, but he doesn’t reach back.

  “I miss you more than you could ever know. But I need you to be brave, Amora.” His body is fading like smoke into the stars. “Be brave, my girl, and do what I could not.”

  I try to call out. Try to grab for him again. But my hand falls through empty air, and every ounce of my breath falls with it.

  As quickly as he came, Father is gone. And yet wisps of smoke still linger in his place, taking shape into something that waits behind where he’d stood only a moment earlier—something he promised me the two of us would one day find together.

  Something with large, blood-red eyes.

  So the child has finally made her appearance. Welcome, Little One. I’ve been wondering when you would arrive.

  I stumble back as the shadows stir, taking shape into a massive creature that slinks closer. Only then do I realize where I’m standing, and that Father’s body wasn’t purely responsible for the smoke surrounding us.

  He’s led me to the base of the volcano, where the deity I’ve been searching for waits.

  He’s led me to the godwoken.

  But how? It should have taken hours to get to the volcanos from where we were staying. And yet my moments with Father felt like seconds.

  The serpent’s sleek body towers over me as it straightens itself. It’s as though it’s built by the night sky, growing and stretching and shrinking as the shadows ebb and flow from the glowing lava light of the volcano. Scales of onyx glisten as I stare at the slithering form, up and up until two piercing red eyes blink down at me, more curious than threatening. The serpent slithers forward, power radiating from it in waves so extraordinary I struggle to gather myself. Every limb in my body is numb; it takes excruciating effort to move even my hands.

  My trembling fingers grip Rukan, and the serpent’s eyes flicker to it before it hisses, forked tongue grazing my cheek.

  I see you’ve been doing some hunting.

  I force myself to look back into its eyes. The snake’s mouth never moves, and yet I swear I hear those words clear as day.

  Keep that weapon sheathed, or I’ll make a meal out of you, Little One, destiny be damned.

  I sheathe the weapon at once, quicker than I ever have despite the trembling. “You can use mind speak?”

  Lowering itself, the beast coils tight, head poking out to set upon its body as it observes me. I am a creation of the gods, Little One. I know all magics that were, are, and ever will be. You dare question me?

  I swallow, an apology hot on my tongue until I realize that the serpent is smiling. Its tongue forks out in what can only be described as amusement, and I grit my teeth.

  “How am I here?” I ask, unable to stop my voice from trembling no matter how hard I try. “Was that … Was he real? Was that really him?”

  He was as real as he could be, the serpent answers, voice a slow, lazy drawl. You wanted to see him again, didn’t you?

  I clench my fists, trying to will some sense back into my limbs. “Then why did you take him from me, again? There was more I wanted to say! There was more I needed to tell him—”

  I have seen your burdens, Little One. Alone as you think you are, we have watched, and we have known. Tonight was the gods’ gift to you; a kindness, for all the burdens you have been born to face. You were given what those who grieve often seek—one final moment. Why waste that moment with words?

  “So you conjured a vision of him to lure me here?”

  It was no vision. Your father’s spirit lives within you, Little One. All I did was give it shape, if only for a short time.

  I want to cry. I want to brandish my dagger once more and drive it into the beast again and again until the godwoken gives Father back to me. But it’s right. I wouldn’t have changed a single second of seeing Father tonight; it just wasn’t long enough. It could never be long enough.

  But it was something.

  It was a chance to see that Father is not surrounded by the dead. That he’s not reaching out, begging me to save him.

  Father is still having his adventures; only now they’re among the stars.

  “Which godwoken are you?” I ask, finding my trembling voice.

  The serpent appears to consider this for a moment. Well, I’m not the one guarding the sanctity of the heavens, nor am I the one who guards the wrath of the tides. Perhaps I guard the wrath of the flames? Or perhaps it’s the innocence of humans I protect? I am one of those.

  My eyes sink to Rukan, thinking of the Lusca, and the snake hisses again with distaste.

  That beast you killed was no guardian. If it had been, you would not be standing here before me today. Now tell me, Little One, w
hy have you come here? I have seen you in my head for years, but I do not know what it is that you seek in this moment. This is no place for your kind.

  The serpent’s right. Already my chest is getting tighter and my breaths shallower. As a thin haze forms over my vision, I suspect the only thing keeping me standing amid these fumes and smoke is the beast’s magic. If it wanted, it could let me die on the smoke at any moment. But this close, there’s no way I’m giving up without trying. “I’m here to borrow the magic of the gods.”

  The serpent slithers closer so that the glossy scales of its body brush against mine. I try to reach out to them, or to grab for my blade so that I may cut one off, but the overwhelming power of its body keeps me knocked back.

  What do you wish to do with such power? There is a fork in your path; which road is it that you plan to take?

  “As queen of this kingdom, I’ll do whatever I’d like with it. My answer shouldn’t matter to you.”

  I am favored by the gods. What use have I for the construct of queens? Though it doesn’t physically laugh, its voice rings in my head with dark amusement.

  Construct? I bristle, though the serpent couldn’t care any less. It presses against me, body coiling around mine.

  I have watched you little ones since the dawn of time, and every queen and king I have ever known has cared more for themselves than any other. You were given a gift tonight, and still you are greedy, wanting more. But ah, I see you know that already, don’t you? I see you imagine how thriving the world and its magic might be if not for your greed. You imagine what a different world this place could be. There are many possibilities; I find myself curious what the world will look like, as well. Perhaps one day I will know.

  “Not everything the Montaras have done has been bad.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. It’s like the serpent is echoing my own inner thoughts, and it feels futile to debate a deity. But I push myself from its coiled grasp and spin to face it all the same. “There’s been at least some good.”

  But which outweighs the other, I wonder? The wrongs, or the rights? Because all I see when I think of that answer is the possibilities. I see the “what could have beens” for this world, but never the “what will be.” The new magics that could have been discovered by now, but not the ones that will be. I see the changes your kingdom could make, but know not which changes you will choose. I can only imagine the world you dream of, Little One. And I hope for it just the same as you do.

  The serpent’s voice grows thick and melodic. I fall into it, lulled by its words. I drown out the heat. The smoke. The sting. And I envision what the serpent wants me to: a world not built by the division of magic, but by growing with it and adapting. Expanding. I imagine a world bursting with magic—a kingdom that was allowed to spend centuries building and exploring their magic, rather than a kingdom restrained by greed.

  And it’s beautiful.

  I see magic in the form of flowers growing from the tips of fingers. In a young man who sings songs to the birds, and who understands every word they sing back. It’s a world full of color and magic I’ve never seen, and the beauty of it stings my eyes, making fresh tears burn within them.

  I see it so clearly that my heart aches. This “could have been” world really might have been, if not for my family.

  “I’m trying to make up for it.” My voice is faint, grating against my raw throat. “I will make up for it.”

  What the world becomes is in your hands, you are right about that much. But one does not change the future by altering their past.

  The serpent’s voice is a coolness that spreads through my veins, freezing me in place. “If you didn’t want me to bring Father back, then why show him to me? Why tell me it’s possible?”

  We are not so cruel as you believe, Little One. You did not ask to bear these burdens you were chosen to carry. For them, you were given a gift. Is it not enough to see him? To know that he is still here, still watching?

  Even though I’ve seen him at peace, it still doesn’t feel like enough. Unless Father’s standing here next to me, it will never be enough.

  Once again, my hand finds its way to Rukan. This time though, I undo its sheath, summoning every ounce of courage I have to keep my body from shaking.

  “Since you seem to know everything, then you know I’m not leaving without that scale.”

  What I know, Little One, is but a few certain things. The first being that you and I were fated to meet; there is no timeline in which you do not seek me out. And the second being that you have a choice ahead of you—one that, no matter what you pick, will alter the fate of this world as we know it. One that will bring it into chaos, and another that will be its salvation. Choose wisely.

  I know the choice it must mean—it would mean putting the power to bring Father back and change Visidia’s history there in my hands but telling me not to use it. To choose to move forward, rather than try to change the past.

  “So you want me to say goodbye to him again.” It’s not a question. “That’s a cruel punishment, even for the gods.”

  I do not want you to do anything, Little One. There is no right or wrong answer, there are only possibilities. The serpent blinks its beady red eyes as if to study me. That naivete is the thing I admire most about you little ones. For even if I told you the choice you should make, you would do whatever you wanted in the end. It would matter not what I say. Besides, I am no god. I do not fully know whether destruction is what this world needs, or salvation. But I will tell you this—the gods do not take kindly to those who try to steal back their dead. It’s only wise to move forward, never back.

  “Tell me,” I demand, trying to still my trembling hands. “Did I do something to deserve this?”

  You did nothing but what you were created to do. That is your fate, and it is why you were given that gift, tonight. Your journey is one I do not envy. It is one that will leave many scars. But those scars will heal, and in them you will find yourself. You will find what you are supposed to do. The serpent’s body turns another full coil around me. Remember that all beings have their time, even myself. You are the queen of Visidia, and with that title, you bear a responsibility no one else will ever know. As you said, it is a cruel fate, but it is yours. And what you do with it will determine Visidia’s future forevermore. This goes beyond you. Remember that.

  Remember that. Remember that?

  I don’t need a reminder when all I do is remember. I remember the way magic used to fill me; how it was a mighty flame in my soul, inextinguishable. I remember a time when most of Visidia wasn’t living in fear. When I wouldn’t need to distract them in order to pass a new law. When I wouldn’t have had to travel to each of the islands with my guard up, fearing someone might try to kill me.

  I remember a time when I could kiss whomever I wanted without doubting my feelings.

  When Father’s laugh would boom across the bay as we stood at the helm of The Duchess. The way so many trusted him, before Kaven ever became a threat.

  I remember the ghost of his kiss on my forehead. The memory of blood draining from his body as life dimmed from his eyes. The sword speared through his flesh, buried deep in his belly. The nightmares of his hand reaching for me, and a face shrouded by smoke.

  I remember everything.

  I squeeze my fists tight and lift my chin to the serpent. “I won’t leave here without a scale.”

  It dips its head, tongue forking out. I am not the guardian who will try to stop you from getting it. I am only tasked with protecting the earth.

  My balance sways as the ground trembles beneath me, but I will not go down so easily. Clutching Rukan, I bring my blade down upon the serpent, slicing through its skin and ripping off a piece of it, scale attached. The beast hisses but doesn’t jerk away, almost as though it wants me to take it. The scale comes off easily in my hand.

  I curse and nearly drop it when it sears my skin. But the longer I touch it, the more power sinks through my skin and deep into my bones. For the fir
st time since losing my magic, I find myself trembling beneath the weight of power, having to steady myself before I’m brought to the ground. Just one scale and some skin from this beast contains more magic than I’ve ever felt in my life.

  I’m quick to tuck the scale close, backing away from the serpent that coils back, lifting its head to watch me.

  As I said, I am not the one tasked to protect it, Little One. They are. The serpent’s eyes flicker to the volcano behind me as lightning strikes the sky above it. Clouds black as tar billow from its mouth as the volcano erupts, white-hot magma pouring from it and bursting into the sky.

  In the middle of that magma, a strange form takes shape as it stretches into the night, growing bigger and bigger until breath flees my lungs, and I understand.

  There is not one guardian deity here; there are two.

  This is the fire serpent.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Unlike the earth deity that slinks back and coils tightly into itself to watch what unfolds, the fire deity does not speak before it bares its fangs, hissing steam against my cheeks. Its entire body is made of fire; lava burns hot around it, melting everything in its path. Magma drips from its fangs, and its eyes are the heart of a fire, white hot. The heat radiating from its body is stifling, nearly suffocating me.

  You are a fool to allow this girl to hold so much power. Have you not learned from the past? This guardian’s voice is booming as it condemns the other, whose blink is slow and calm.

  The little ones will do what they want, says the earth deity. Her being here was fated.

  The fire deity’s tongue lashes out in distaste before it slinks closer. I choke on its presence, smoke gripping my throat as I stumble back in search of the fiery wolf that brought me here. Miraculously, it still waits for me, curling its claws into the ground and flaring a bright white. As I reach for it, it heeds my call and helps me onto its back, taking off down the mountainside as I clutch the snake scale to my chest.