Tides of Fate

by Sean J Leith

  Crack. A spiraling column of lightning crashed down upon his hand that touched the blade. His markings shone bright red and blue all around him as he was coated with powerful electricity. Saul roared in pain as his skin felt aflame, and he fell to his knees in agony. His vision flashed to his father burning, then to a Terran with the blade atop a massive demon, and a violet orb above a sea of Broken galleys.

  His body shook wildly as the electricity passed through his veins, but he refused to give up. He had one final vision: a woman with yellow and blue markings coated in flame surrounded by shadowy figures, calling for help, and then a storm of lightning striking all within.

  He wished to release the blade. He wanted the agony to stop. No, I won’t let go. I must claim the blade. A storm is coming, Gadora had told him. The nightmares trained him for this moment. His blood boiled, his brain felt to burst, and his eyes bulged out.

  “Gadoras faust!” Saul roared, rising again to his feet. Heroes rise. The electricity flowed from black cloud to hilt, burning him like all the others that came before him. He could see the skin of his left hand begin to crackle and blister. The white bolts splayed out from the hilt, connected with his arm, and seared it black all over. The blackness crawled up his arm as he slowly pulled the blade from the Spire.

  He growled, building up to a guttural roar, slowly gaining strength as the burn reached his shoulder. With a violent scream, Saul brought the blade out from the stone and pointed it to the sky with its fire-orange steel burning bright like the sun.

  The black burn reached his neck and part of his face, but he felt no more pain.

  Energy surged from the blade—the blade that carves the skies—as the lightning above cracked again and again into it. But with every strike, Saul felt more powerful.

  Saul heard the chants of the crowd from afar, in unison yelling, “The Soldier of Storms, The Soldier of Storms!” They yelled it over and over, with arms thrusting into the air.

  Saul gritted his teeth, knowing his destined path. As the storm raged around him, he roared to the sky, echoing through the hills and lands beyond. “I am coming, Obelreyon!”

  He was an inexorable storm that would sweep over Kathynta, and Renalia was next.

  “I shall give you something to fear.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  Queen, Knight, Pawns

  Domika Mirado

  Night took the camp, and it was under Dom’s watch.

  Every moment since she arrived in Wolf Camp for the first time, her soul bled. But she had to persevere.

  Lira tossed in her sleep, writhing each night since her brother died. Each thrash reminded Dom of their own decision. Her own motives.

  Family—or part of it. Lira chose her friends and sacrificed family. Dom did the the very opposite. The one who raised her came before all others. Her mom came first.

  It was the first time Kayden slept in days since Vesper died. Finally alone on watch, Dom crept out of the clearing. The wolves howled in the distance as if warning the others.

  She knelt in a small clearing of dirt and spoke the incantation to activate their connection with the one she obeyed.

  They slowly scraped each symbol in a circle around her as instructed. Placing the deep violet crystal into the dirt, a vision appeared before her.

  “I have awaited this report for days,” the Cardinal hissed. Her fiery orange hair felt aflame itself, and bright green eyes grew more vicious by the moment.

  “The harbinger was banished, your eminence,” she stuttered. “The girl and the magician. He cast a spell of annihilation, and she banished it while it was weak.”

  “Don’t act as if I have not heard this from the brothers. The foolish boy summoned it too early in a panic.” The cardinal shot up from the broken throne of Amirion, her dark armor casting a shadow over her despite it being magical communication. “They, along with the puppet king, have informed me of their failure—and that the girl somehow absorbed the essence in the altercation, and that you helped the rebels.”

  Dom shuddered at the Cardinal’s sharp tongue. Fearing what awaited her. “I’m sorry, your eminence,” Dom whispered. She assumed death came next. Or torture. Or worse. “I could not reveal myself. I felt it was too risky.”

  A deafening silence took them. The traitor’s eyes stayed at the ground. Dared not look into the cardinal’s eyes now. It was said the Cardinal’s gaze could steal one’s very soul.

  “Look at me, Domika,” the Cardinal snapped.

  A rush of ice charged up Dom’s spine. She drew her eyes to her leader. If only she failed by mistake. But she didn’t. She wanted to help. Part of her wavered from her path.

  The cardinal looked down at her subject. “Remind yourself of why you took your pact. We have all made one.”

  Family. Something Jirah never understood. He left and never came back. Dom took a pact to save the only family she had. Mom. If she betrayed it… She didn’t want to think about that.

  “The brothers and king are not pleased.”

  A test. “They are pawns, your eminence.”

  A smirk crept across the Cardinal’s lips. “Quite right. It is good that you know their place—and your own.” Her expression returned to absolute ice. “Do you have a plan to correct these mistakes you have made?”

  It was far worse of a plan than she wanted. It bore a battle of morals within her. But her decisions were beyond good and evil.

  “Domika.” Her tone was laced with poison. The Cardinal’s cold voice drew quiet. “Do not make me ask again.”

  When one would normally ask a second time, the Cardinal brought forth the lash instead. Or the sword.

  “I do, your eminence.”

  “I will grant you this chance. Should you fail, I should not need to remind you of the consequences. I would not want to send Cloaker to assist you. He has been—occupied.” After a brief moment, the Cardinal waved her hand across her form, whispering an incantation under her breath. As the vision faded, she said, “Do not disappoint me again.”

  The mountain on Dom’s shoulders vanished, and she took the first breath in a year, it felt. Dom wretched and heaved, and finally, threw her stomach contents upon the dirt. She slowly drew her hands into fists, breathing heavily, trying to keep her composure. She would not sleep tonight, even after her watch ended.

  “Domika?” Lira’s kind, but horrifying voice called out from behind. “Are you okay?”

  Looking forward to the darkness, Domika spoke between heavy breaths. “I’m okay. Just—feeling sick after what happened.”

  As a hand touched her back, Dom shivered. Lira said, “I understand. I’ve felt awful since Vesper’s passing, and—” Her voice cut off, but her eyes said, my brother.

  A tear crept from Dom’s eye. “You did what you had to do.”

  Just like me.

  A brittle smile grew from Lira’s somber expression. “Thanks, it’s been hard.” She looked up to the stars above, and her posture relaxed. “It helps knowing I’m with people I care about, and trust.”

  Dom’s heart shattered in that moment. Trust. Care.

  Dom trusted them. She cared about them.

  And she betrayed them.

  “Lira, can I ask you something?” Dom said, rising to her feet.

  Lira tilted her head in response. “Sure, what’s the matter?”

  “If—if you chose your brother, and we—” She paused for a moment. “Died—would you feel you did the right thing?”

  Lira watched Dom for a moment with eyes that glistened in the moonlight above. It wasn’t regret in her gaze. It was a strange sense of sadness—and confidence. “There was no right answer.” She slowly shook her head. “I just have to live with my decision.”

  Me, as well.

  Grey. It’s all Domika saw in life.

  Good and Evil were constructs made up by those with excessive pride. Every evil decision had an outcome that some would see as good. Every good choice came with a consequence that had evil results.

 
; At least, that’s what Dom told herself to stay sane.

  She walked the line between savior and horror. Should she fall, it would mean her soul—or that of the one who keeps her alive. She only wished her friends weren’t caught in the balance under the blade of the executioner.

  Under her scythe.

  “All beings make mistakes.

  In the span of my existence, I have made one.

  What a grave mistake it was.”

  - The Forgotten One

  Sean J. Leith is the author of The Origins of Life and Death series, beginning with Tides of Fate. He writes both fantasy and science fiction, with many stories to come. When he isn’t writing books, he can be either found in a biochemistry lab, or playing D&D through homebrew campaigns or character classes he creates.

  For maps of the world of The Origins of Life and Death, visit: https://www.seanjleith.com.