by D A Godwin
Eluria’s helplessness washed over him.
~ You must not. The cost is too great ~
The calmness of his reply surprised even himself.
No. Not really.
Shalindra felt Tormjere’s mind as it latched onto hers, supplying an anchor on which to focus within the incomprehensibility enveloping her. She clung to him, the only constant in a consciousness that was multiplying at an incomprehensible rate. Something pushed her towards him even as he pulled her closer, and the swirl of chaos receded briefly.
Eddies of what could only be described as raw energy whipped around her. She experienced the ultimate rapture as Eluria’s mind touched hers, and suddenly she could comprehend fragments of what she was witnessing. With a new frame of reference, one no longer bound by mortal limits, Shalindra opened her eyes and began to think like a god.
She maintained her anchor to Tormjere as chaos sorted itself into order. Memories were arranged into complex, multi-dimensioned structures that began to align themselves in predictable ways, like a tapestry that had been burned full of holes but which could still be read. Her efforts were disrupted when a sharp pain sliced its way across the threads she was weaving.
What was that?
She sought the source of that feeling, for it was somehow far more familiar than the others. She discovered new images flowing into her, of demons and dark ceremonies. Of torment and agony. Of fighting in a barren landscape. Of things that were not of Eluria.
Why are you giving this to me?
You’ll need… it.
I have more than I could have ever dreamed. You could simply have told me what I needed to know.
It… isn’t the same. This way… is better.
He was holding something back, but she did not know what. Was he in pain? She reordered the layers of consciousness to make it less difficult to focus.
She sought the line that tethered her to him, seeing it as a red-tinged rope stretched tightly between their minds. But there was movement, a directional flow to that tenuous link by which she grounded herself. She examined it closely, allowing it to solidify into a series of images and scenes. In one, she saw a youthful Blackwolf as a puppy, and she smiled at his mischief. Then another of her brother sitting on his favorite rock in the creek.
But I do not have a brother with dark hair.
The image was gone before she could examine it, replaced by the burn of demonic flesh as she feasted on the dying creature. Different, more cosmically divine experiences sought to interpose themselves, but she forced her way past them. With some effort, she narrowed her thoughts to only those along the tether while storing the others for later. His memories seemed to follow the same pattern as those from her goddess yet felt subtly different, becoming her own as surely as if she had lived them herself.
She felt his hands contort on her shoulders. What was he doing that hurt him so much? Something was not right, but she could not even begin to identify it amidst the unfamiliarity of her own senses.
A memory of the demon ceremony was thrust before her from an unknown direction, and she watched, as he had been forced to relive it moments earlier. There did not seem to be any pain for the participants, beyond that which they inflicted on each other. She shuddered with the realization that he was taking parts of Eluria and giving them to her in the same way that the demons had, yet did so with Eluria’s blessing. She cast her gaze up within the memory and saw the demon goddess, snarling in pain, fighting as each drop of power was torn from her body. She watched as the mightiest demons slaughtered thousands of lesser creatures to gain that power which fell from her torments.
If Tormjere’s memories were mixed in now, then… Another scene flew past, of a young girl with long blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes running after a dog towards her, and…
Shalindra knew. She knew with horrible certainty what Tormjere was doing.
No, you must not!
The prophecy’s right.
It is not—we can find another way. Not like this.
She felt his hands begin to tremble.
I did find a way to you.
No…no…no…
The memories of a lifetime that was not hers came pouring in faster. She sought to sever their connection, to push them away, but it was like fighting a waterfall.
You are meant to go where only one may walk.
No, no, please, no.
Shalindra clutched frantically at his hand, wanting it to stop. She tried to rise but could not. It was never supposed to be this way.
The final wall between them shattered, and his consciousness merged with hers like never before.
The burning pain of a million cuts swept over her, tearing a scream from her mouth that obliterated the fragile reality she had constructed. Cast helplessly into a swirling void of impossibility battling with insanity, her skin was peeled from her body only to regrow and be torn from her again as she tumbled down an infinite hill of razor-sharp blades, slicing her into endlessly smaller pieces.
Then a different pain, a physical pain, forced its way into her mind. She focused on it. It was a grip, a squeeze, a… hand on her shoulder. His hand on her shoulder!
She struggled to form an image of what a hand might look like, or her shoulder.
What was a shoulder?
Why was she standing in the ocean?
It is being torn from me.
Who is me?
A silvery shape of mist and light slid through the torrent of pain and chaos of her perceptions. But she was ephemeral and had no means to reach back.
Her shoulder!
She focused on that again. Arms attach to shoulders. She had little sense of what a shoulder might connect to, but she produced one anyway. A stream of black goo appeared and swirled around the shoulder. No, that was not an arm.
She searched helplessly for something called an arm.
Another appendage appeared, covered in hair—no, fur—and oddly angled. It dissolved to dust as the pain swept it away.
The thing coming towards her, reaching towards her—a hand! On an arm, and… her left arm shot forward and locked wrists with it. Its grip was weak, but energy pulsed through it.
Reality lurched.
She slammed down on the floor, cracking the marble tiles as if they were eggshells. She grabbed the edge of whatever was beside her and forced herself to her feet. Around her, in every direction, swirled the red torrent of his pain.
You… must…
Shalindra knew what she had to do. She knew how to do it. She allowed her perception to shift, and through her tears she saw the embers of him spinning away.
No.
Darkness exploded from her, casting aside the chaos, the pain, the floor she stood on, even her connection to Eluria. She forced everything away until nothing remained.
Nothing but embers of red floating in the infinite darkness.
All that I am, all that I will be…
Her soul screamed in agony as she drew them towards her, one by one.
I love you.
And then he was gone.
Epilogue
And it was that Eluria staggered against the side of the floating, marble-edged pool before losing her grip and collapsing heavily to the floor. Her eyes, completely black and dotted with stars, and with irises white in the shape of the full moon, lost focus as she fought desperately against the all-consuming pain that enveloped every part of her being. Dull and torn were her shimmering silver robes, a once magnificent garment which now fell haphazardly about her shriveled skin. Such was the illusion, the projected reality that she displayed, for even the gods needed a frame of reference to communicate.
Willingly, even eagerly, had she participated, yet her essence had been violated to an extent undreamed of. She hurt in ways that a god should never hurt, and her luster lay tarnished in ways few could have imagined. The others looked on with varying degrees of concern but offered not their assistance.
Such was not their way.
“S
o much was taken,” came the delicate words of Amalthee, lady of wealth and wisdom. She brushed aside a ringlet of shimmering golden hair and wrote with a purposeful and graceful script upon the pages of a large tome held open in one arm.
It was Lithandris, slender and alert as a cat in the woods, who responded. “Yet so much more was given. For a mortal, I would never have thought such a thing possible.”
Eluria summoned to herself a chair and struggled upon it, frail and weak, a mere shadow of her former self.
“So well were they chosen,” observed Amalthee.
Remulus, Lord of Battles, loomed half again taller than the others as he rose scowling from his seat, and, in a booming voice that would make craven the bravest of men, flung his words like stones at an enemy. “This is not what had been agreed. Repercussions of the most dire nature shall emerge from this course of action, most especially given your current condition.”
Eluria’s sense of herself remained vague and distorted, but well aware was she of his implied meaning.
But it was Amalthee who replied with a calm accounting. “And yet now we have been presented with even greater advantage. Many and varied are the tasks which shall be made less exigent.” And she thought for a moment, then continued her writing.
Hers was an attitude which angered Remulus, who stomped his foot and tossed his head so violently it shook fiery embers from his beard. “Will they? In all of time and across creation beyond measure, such as this has never been conceived! And for sound reasoning! The consequences—”
Eluria’s brittle voice cut through his words and brought them all to silence. “I am most aware of the issues now arisen, particularly those with which I influence my own fate. That which cannot be undone is now done, and, therefore, adjustments shall we make.”
The god of war scowled at her with a fury of such potency it could have laid waste to an empire, but his bitter retort was held fast behind clenched teeth.
Eluria drew herself upright, seeking to regain a flicker of her composure before she continued. “Each of us here has a part still to play in this. I have done… mine, as you must all continue to do yours.”
Silent condonement was given by those around her, some more reluctantly than others, before each disappearing as they set themselves to their appointed tasks.
Lithandris held back, as was his wont. The misty white void that surrounded their gathering place eased closer to the pair, until at last they stood alone on a fragment floating in the nothing.
It was with no small curiosity that he asked of Eluria, “What did you take?”
This gave Eluria pause, for she had been apprehended and could no longer withhold her prize from him.
She stretched forth her left hand, slowly uncurling her fingers. Above her ravaged palm floated a small, bluish pearl that glowed and pulsed as fiery swirls of crimson streaked across its surface. It possessed at the same time both a manner of insignificance and an aura of vast determination.
Intently did Lithandris study this peculiarity. “Long have I wondered what that would resemble. It is a wonderous, if dangerous, thing.”
“Could you have done it? Could any of us?”
Her questions amused Lithandris, who raised an eyebrow. “Of course not, for it is not in our nature.” The god of the forest took fresh appraisal of her distressed state. “And its affect upon you appears… unsettling.”
The orb floated towards Eluria’s chest, passing into her with an unfamiliar sensation. Her breath came quickly as her lips parted, and the stars in her eyes flared with insurmountable resolve.
“No, not really.”
Witness the thrilling conclusion to
the Guardian’s Prophecy series!
GUARDIAN’S PROPHECY: BOOK FOUR
NEW MOON RISING
Arriving Fall 2021
Meet the Author
David A. Godwin was born in Tennessee, during a simpler era when daydreaming was still allowed. Though successful in a number of more practical pursuits, he prefers to spend his time exploring made-up worlds filled with magical creatures
and endless possibilities, and is often observed in deep conversation with his imaginary friends.
VISIT THE AUTHOR AT
www.dagodwin.com
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By D.A. Godwin
Guardian's Prophecy
Book One: Eyes of the Blind
Book Two: Hunter's Moon
Book Three: Weaponforger
Copyright
Text copyright © 2020 by D.A. Godwin
All rights reserved.
Published by Conclave Publishing LLC.
All characters and elements are trademarks of the author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, by any means natural, unnatural, or electronic, nor stored in a retrieval system, nor transmitted by any method, without written permission by the author. The reader is, however, encouraged to memorize passages and recite them appropriately at social gatherings. For information regarding permissions, please write to D.A. Godwin at [email protected].
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FIRST EDITION
Edited by Marissa van Uden
Cover and Interior Art by David Godwin