by Ali Winters
She pulled back, releasing the Guardian. The snap back made her stumble a few steps, panting.
Jewel lay on the table, still. Then slowly, from head to toe, everything about her faded until all color had drained and she was no more than a granite statue.
Yeva took two steps closer to examine what had happened. She breathed softly, but it was enough. The Guardian crumbled into dry ash.
Yeva cried out and jumped back as the girl’s body seemed to dissolve right before her eyes.
The door slammed open then closed. Two sets of footsteps ran to her side. She didn’t have to look to know it was Jack and Taliha.
“What happened?” Jack asked, breath coming quickly and betraying his panic.
Yeva blinked once. Twice. Then she turned her head to take him in. For several heartbeats, she struggled to find her voice. His dark eyes bored into her, questioning, almost accusing. His chest heaving slightly. Oh, he felt the break.
He didn’t understand it, but he felt the ache of the bond that had existed so briefly, and the snap of it severing when Jewel had been destroyed.
She felt for her Watcher, less so for the Dark Guardian.
“Where did she go?” Taliha’s soft voice asked.
Yeva whipped her head to Taliha. She wasn’t looking at her, but at the table, her mouth forming a small O. She traced a finger along a groove across the polished surface then examined the smallest trace of ash left on the table. Taliha was as astute as ever.
Yeva straightened her spine and cleared the surprise from her mind. “She was weak. I barely touched her power with mine and—” Yeva shrugged as if what had transpired meant nothing, “she became no more than dust.”
“Destroyed?” Jack asked, flicking his brows upward.
Yeva dipped her chin then dragged her gaze to his. “It was not my intention.”
“I know,” Jack said. He understood. He always did.
Thoughts ticked across the plains of her mind. The Guardian had given her nothing. It was not possible for them to know nothing about their creator, nothing of his plans, of what he spent his time doing. Jewel had to have known something. And, for some reason, rather than tell her, the Reaper had lain upon the table and let Yeva send her opposing magic into her.
Thunder cracked in the distance. Seconds later, rain pinged off the single window of her dwelling. Just a few drops at first, then more and more until it became white noise blocking out the sound of breathing in the room.
Yeva looked down at her hands. She had no idea she possessed such a power as to tear them apart like that. She could destroy one with the snap of her finger if she wished. But this? This had been something else entirely.
A chill tingled up her spine. She could still feel the Guardian in the room. Impossible. And yet… not destroyed, just no more than dust. She was aware, not dead, not destroyed, just void of life. A contradiction. Yeva’s eyes glinted with golden fire.
She was more powerful than she was ever led to believe. She could create life, bring it into the world, and now she had the ability to take back that gift when and if she so chose. All her existence, Silas had made her feel weak compared to him. In reality, it was the opposite. He could only destroy. But she… she could create both life and destruction.
“Did she tell you anything?” Taliha’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“No,” Yeva said. “She claimed to know nothing.”
Taliha crossed her arms and scoffed, rolling her eyes skyward.
“I believe she was hiding something.”
“If the Reapers are hiding things, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Jack leaned forward on the table, hands splayed. His face was inches from hers. “Is this a play for power?”
She thought the same thing, the way the Guardians numbers always seemed to grow steadily. It was something most Watchers suspected at some point during the last several decades. At first, Yeva dismissed it, having nothing but complete trust in Silas and in their mission. Lately, though, it seemed more and more likely.
“I believe there is a good chance for it to be so,” she answered quietly.
“What can we do to help you?” Taliha asked.
The two Watchers looked to her, and she felt every bit the Guardian of Life. She pulled her shoulders back, lifted her chin, straightened her spine, then said, “Bring me another Reaper.”
YEVA
YEVA PULLED IN a deep breath of fresh air. The faint fragrance of autumn flowers lingered on the cool breeze. She stretched her arms out to the sides and closed her eyes, reveling in the life that surrounded her. Long stocks of grass swayed back and forth, nearly up to her waist, their dance creating a sound that mimicked the ocean waves.
The droplets of water from the recent storm clung to the hem of her dress. Mud splashed up with each step she took, and the material stuck to her legs, but she didn’t care.
Gaia, she felt… amazing. Invigorated. If she didn’t know better, she would have said her power felt even stronger than before. Sure her first attempt at finding out exactly how those Reapers ticked had failed. As had her second.
But she was closer.
Though, a sour note tainted the edges of her newfound task. Destroying them had not quite been her goal, but in exploring what made the wretched things tick, she had discovered a new power within herself. Something Gaia had never told her, something only Silas claimed to possess.
“Yeva.”
Silas’s deep voice startled her, and she spun to face him. The beat of her pulse kicked up and the blood drained from her face. The look in his eyes darkened as he closed the distance between them. She swallowed and fought to keep from taking a step back.
“Silas,” Yeva said, looking around. “What are you doing here?”
Silas’s head tilted to the side, just a fraction, and his brows furrowed. “Have you not felt it?”
Clasping her hands behind her back, Yeva shook her head. He reached out, his fingers grazing down the skin of her upper arm. Usually, she would allow him to take her by the hand, but that night something dark and unidentifiable flickered in his expression.
His movements hesitated at her reluctance, and he let his hand fall limply back to his side. “There has been a shift in the balance.”
A prickling broke out across her chest as panic seized her spine. “I-I did not feel a thing.”
The stormy infinity of his gray eyes clouded over at her words. Silas took another step forward, and she, another pace back. Finally he halted, the corners of his mouth dipping into a frown. He looked hurt, and she hated that she’d caused that. She loved him—he was the night to her day, the moon to her sun, the cool to her warmth.
But there was something about him that worried her. Something that looked an awful lot like suspicion.
Could he sense the lingering traces of the Reapers' dark power on her. Yeva dropped her hands to her skirts and began fussing with them, as though the dirt and dampness of the cloth bothered her.
“Did you not hear me?” he asked after a long moment of silence.
She stilled but didn’t look up. “I did. But… are you sure? I have not noticed a thing.” Though she tried to keep a lightness to her voice, the words came out strained.
“Yes, I am sure of it,” he said. Silas let out a long, deep sigh she was sure she was not meant to hear. A sigh that meant he was trying to keep his emotions in check.
If she kept up with this, he would grill her until he found out what she had done. He wouldn’t understand, that much she knew.
She had only wanted to find a way to keep their respective powers even. Not to become weak next to him. But rather to be his equal, as they were always meant to be.
Yeva straightened her spine and lifted her head to meet his eyes.
“Then something must be done about it.” She punctuated her declaration with a curt nod.
Silas let his shoulders relax. He took a step forward, ready to gather her in his arms. She wanted his embrace. Longed for it. But, still, she could not bear
to have him so close, lest he realize—
“There is something wrong,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement with the barest hint of a demand to know why she kept putting distance between them. She could pretend to misunderstand, but he would see through that. He knew her too well. She could only get away with so much before something about her posture, expression, or tone, gave everything away.
But she couldn’t bear to have him touch her now. He, too, was keeping secrets of his own. Did he know more than he was letting on? Did he know the cause of the imbalance?
“I am only concerned for the shift in the balance. We must right it as soon as possible.” Yeva faced the setting sun then asked, “Do you know what the cause is?”
When he didn’t answer, Yeva peeked up sideways through her lashes at him. His face was an emotionless mask, and he still wore his hood over his head.
Her throat tightened and her mouth felt unbearably parched. Why was he looking at her like that? Yeva had the sudden urge to turn and run from him, but she forced herself to remain exactly where she was.
She’d done nothing wrong. She was entitled to as much power as he was. It was what Gaia wanted. What she had done had been out of pure necessity. Still, the taint of guilt lingered in her heart.
“No, I have no idea what it could be. But I do know it is not a lack of reaping, or too many mortals being reaped. It is strange and disconcerting.”
Yeva ran a hand through her hair and pushed the dark auburn strands off her shoulder. So it seemed he couldn’t tell just by looking at her.
“I see,” she managed to croak out.
“Yeva,” Silas started. “Are you sure there is nothing wrong? You have been acting unlike yourself.”
“Like you, I am worried about the balance.” Her words came out faster and harsher than she’d intended.
“I hate to ask this of you,” he hesitated a moment, and Yeva knew she would hate the next words out of his mouth. “It does not feel like a shift a mortal could cause—”
There it was. His suspicion put to words. He always blamed her Watchers, though his Reapers were the more common threat to the balance.
“I would know if my Watchers were up to something that could jeopardize the balance. Perhaps you should take a look at your little Reaplings, they seem to be growing in numbers by the day.” Yeva crossed her arms and glared.
He stiffened slightly, then gave her a single nod. “Very well. Caspian and I will search out the source. I will let you know what we find.” Silas turned away and took two steps before looking back at her. “I suggest you do the same.”
“Of course.”
“I did not mean any offense, Yeva.”
She barely managed to keep another biting remark from slipping out. She needed to cool her temper. Taking a few seconds, Yeva brought forth the calm and gentle exterior he expected from her. “I know, but you must understand that my Watchers are slowly dwindling in numbers, and it is not possible for them to partake in any deception behind my back.” She dropped her arms to her sides.
“You will let me know what you find?” he asked.
“Silas,” Yeva chided gently. “This is not the first time the balance has shifted, and it will not be the last. We will find the cause.”
Again, he seemed to study her as though he was keeping something from her, knowing he should speak the words out loud and yet… refusing. He had looked at her as though he wanted to accuse her of something, yet there he stood with secrets of his own.
She let out a slow breath and, in the next second, Silas was closing the distance between them. She didn’t have time to react before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. He placed his mouth over hers and kissed her fiercely. One arm around her waist, his other hand tangled in her hair.
When he pulled back, she was left breathless.
His warm breath caressed her cheek as he whispered, “Yeva, I know there is something going on. I do not know what, or why you feel that you cannot tell me, but I love you and I will be here should you ever wish to confide in me.”
Then he let her go and strode away, transporting to somewhere she could never follow.
Yeva stayed where she stood for a long time after Silas left and the traces of his power faded on the breeze. But, even then, her pulse refused to slow. He might not have accused her outright, but he’d suspected her Watchers of foul play.
Gaia! He was acting as if he alone deserved more than his share of the power. As if a slight imbalance that could easily be fixed was some offense that needed to be dealt with immediately.
Perhaps her study of a few of his Reaplings had effected the balance a touch. It could easily be rightened. It was not as though shifts were unheard of.
Yeva pressed the pads of her fingers to her lips. That kiss had not just been one of affection, but it had also been meant to throw her off guard. If he was trying to deceive her in some way, then she needed to take action in order to protect herself, to protect her Watchers, and to protect the legacy of her power.
She turned and hurried back toward her dwelling. The sun had set as they had talked, and now the rain water her skirts had soaked up now chilled her skin. Exhaustion seeped into her bones, and she wanted to sleep, but there was still one more thing she had to do before she could surrender to it.
Yeva tore her soiled dress off, as soon as she closed her door behind her, and quickly changed into a new one. Being in dry clothes made an immediate difference. Even if they were drab and not befitting one of her status.
She grabbed a dark brown cloak, from the storage room near the back, and threw the hood up over her head, then hurried out the door and through the small space between the dwellings until she came out at the far side of the Watcher’s village.
She kept her pace even as she headed toward the human city.
Yeva wrinkled her nose. Halfway there and she could already smell their mortality. Still, she pushed on.
At the edge of the city, she could hear the din of chatter flowing out of the open tavern door near the heart of the market area. Many of the booths had closed for the night as soon as the sun had set. Though a handful of those selling baked goods and meats remained open for those few drunken customers who would be loose with their coin.
Yeva pulled her hood lower over her eyes and walked swiftly into the center of the humans milling about. The majority of them were men, already reeking of spirits that mixed with the sweat of the day.
It wasn’t until she stood, practically invisible and unnoticed, in the center of things that she hesitated. It was her job to take care of these mortals. But what she needed from them made her stomach twist into knots.
Though what choice did she have? Silas would never understand what it was like to watch as his equal grew in power almost daily, leaving him to become useless. He would never know how much it hurt to see the one who held his heart increasingly treat him as though he were the inferior.
Yeva squared her shoulders and passed into the space between buildings. The voices grew louder from within the tavern as the stench of spilled ale and the lingering hint of waste overpowered her senses. She hurried past the doorway and waited in the shadows for the perfect humans to stumble her way.
She quickly grew weary of the noise and environment and was about to move on when a group of three men with their arms around several women stumbled out of the door, kicking it open with an over-abundance of force. The door’s glass rattled as the wood cracked against the stone. Yeva flinched.
The group moved toward where she stood, and as soon as she set eyes upon the face of the man leading them, she knew Gaia had sent them to her.
They were perfect.
Yeva’s hand shot out and landed on the man’s arm as he passed. He stopped in his tracks and swiveled to face her. Though the sun had dried his skin over the years, and several days' worth of stubble dotted his jaw, stealing the last remnants of his childhood, she would know him anywhere. The dull eyes were the same as always.
“Ohh, ohh!” he jeered, far louder than necessary. “What do we have here?” His words came out slurred as he scrunched up his face to lean in and examine her with squinted eyes.
“I have come to make you an offer.” Yeva lifted her chin. He was several heads taller than she, but she was the Guardian of Life, and his size meant nothing compared to the power she held in her little finger.
“And what could a pretty thing like you offer a man such as myself?” He released the woman he’d been holding and stretched his hands out toward Yeva, ready to gather her up and—
She stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding his touch.
“Mind where you place your hands, lest you lose one to unfortunate circumstances,” she said coolly, so only he could hear. His face contorted as he opened his maw of yellowed teeth. Yeva held up a hand to halt him. “I come baring a gift from Gaia. One that will turn you and your friends into gods.”
His face fell, and he stared at her with dumb shock before guffawing. The reek of his breath seemed to coat her skin in a layer of grease.
“Do not mock me, boy. You would do well to respect your superiors, Merek. Your mother would give you ten lashes for such behavior.”
The man sobered and glanced nervously behind at his friends, then back to her. “What do you know of my mother, and how do you know my name?”
Yeva pushed her hood back just enough to expose the color of her hair in the dim torch light. The rich red was not a common color found in this part of the world.
Confusion, awe, then recognition, dawned on his face. “I haven’t seen you since I was a babe, but I would know that red hair anywhere.”
She adjusted her hood back in place and spoke before he could bombard her with asinine questions she did not have the time, nor the care, to answer. “I come to offer you the gift of eternal life.”
“How is that even possible? The fountain of Nathka is nothing more than legend.” Marek moved a little closer, and it was all Yeva could do to avoid pressing her back against the grime covered building.
“The fountain is just as real as we are. I can take you and your friends there if you wish,” Yeva said in a honeyed voice that hinted at the things that awaited him. “You will be untouched by time or death from tonight forward.”