The Eye of God (The Fall of Erelith)

by RJ Blain

  “I don’t understand. He’s not…” Aria murmured, her brow furrowing.

  “That’s what makes him a vessel, Aria. You know that. Anyone else would be dead or devoured. Obsessed.” Blaise rubbed at the bridge of his nose and tried to will away the ache in his head. It didn’t work. “If he does decide to return to Horthoe, I’ll have to kill him, Aria. I don’t dare let the Emperor control him, not now.”

  “But why?” The anguish in Aria’s voice caught Blaise’s attention. Tears gleamed in her green eyes, and streaked down her cheeks.

  “Remember Westoran?”

  “How could I forget?” she whispered.

  “You’ve endured a few hundred lives since then,” he replied and sighed. “I hadn’t meant to bind you so.”

  It was the closest he’d ever gotten to being able to apologize to the woman. He didn’t know if he could ever bring himself to truly look her in the eye and say he regretted forcing her soul to reincarnate, time and time again, to keep him company through the ages.

  He was worse than any of the Citizens. They only bound lives.

  He’d taken her soul and made it his.

  Aria pushed away from the door and sank down to the floor at his feet. Her back pressed against his legs. “I don’t remember much of it. I don’t mind.”

  It was the same conversation, one they’d had hundreds if not thousands of times before, in this life, and all of her numerous previous lives.

  Blaise reached down and squeezed her shoulder. For her sake, he’d step a little closer to his regret. “Well, I do.” He let her think about it and the dual meaning of his words. “Mikael saved their souls by killing them all before the Hand could be used. Without the Eye, if the Hand is used, there won’t be enough left of their souls to send to the Garden.”

  And it’d be Blaise’s fault.

  “I know that, Blaise.”

  “Then why say it’s impossible?”

  Aria wiggled against him and rested the back of her head against his knee. “Can I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can the Eye—can Mikael—be the vessel for Lucin? It’s not impossible, is it?”

  Blaise shuddered. He tightened his hold on Aria, not liking where his thoughts wandered. Alone, the Eye and the Hand could destroy entire cities. Mikael had split an entire continent in two, and left a scar on the land which would never heal.

  He couldn’t imagine what they could do if they worked together.

  “The thought alone is terrifying,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to be the vicious one, remember? Not you. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even the Emperor. It’s my hope to stop that sort of thing from happening.”

  “What if it already has?”

  “Aria, we’d be dead. Not even I would survive it if they clashed. They hate each other more than anything. They’d try to kill each other if they were contained within each other—or even within the same vessel. I don’t think anyone could have stopped them.”

  “Aurora could have,” Aria whispered.

  Blaise closed his eyes and fought the tightness in his throat and the burn of tears. He ran his fingers through Aria’s hair. No matter how often her soul returned back to the mortal coil, she never forgot her sister. No matter how many times Blaise prayed she would forget, for Him to leave her be, Aria returned to his side.

  Over, and over, and over, until his guilt choked him.

  Everything had happened because Blaise had failed to stop Lucin and Mikael the first time.

  “They didn’t mean to do it, I know that. It was an accident,” the woman whispered. “They were trying to protect her from each other. I believe that. She loved them both, and they her.”

  That love—that human, short-lived emotion—had destroyed all three of them, and Blaise with them. Yet, he couldn’t blame them. His regret was the one thing unchanged through the ages, and Aria lived to witness it, time and time again.

  “I know,” he murmured.

  “He’s just like her, that boy.”

  Blaise froze. “What?” When Aria didn’t reply right away, he held his breath.

  “It’s not just his eyes. Oh, oh blessed God, I thought I would die when I first saw his eyes, Blaise. It’s not just that, but this girl. He’d go so far just because she’s here. Just like Aurora would do. He’d sell himself to save her, just because she’s in front of him. I know he would. He will. He’ll decide to be yours, all because she’s here.”

  “He’s not that fickle,” Blaise muttered.

  “It’s not fickle,” Aria snapped. “Isn’t it obvious she needs to be saved? Look at her.”

  Blaise glanced out of the corner of his eye at the still figure on the bed, at the dark bruises, and the pained expression that didn’t ease even in sleep. He shook his head.

  Bruised, but not broken. Not yet.

  The slave girl and Terin were kindred spirits.

  “Her heart was too big for her tiny chest,” he observed, running his hands through Aria’s hair once more. “Far too small for her soul.”

  “Can you really save them this time?”

  Blaise dropped his hands to Aria’s shoulders and rubbed them. “I don’t know, but I’m going to try.”

  “Mikael’s here, Blaise.”

  “I know.” Blaise couldn’t stop his smile. “We’ll find him.”

  “It’s really begun again, hasn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so. There won’t be another chance. Not this time. So sayeth He.”

  “God can kiss my feet and get kicked in the face by a mule. May he fall in the mud and swallow worms.”

  Blaise snorted. “You need to work on your insults, Aria. Just don’t let Him hear you say that.”

  “If he didn’t hear me, I’ll be disappointed.”

  ~*~

  Terin listened to the murmur of conversation in the other room while staring at the collar in his hand. Without its pressure around his throat, all of the thoughts and desires he’d never dared to believe in tumbled about in his head and left him breathless.

  He could die.

  He could live.

  He could run away.

  He could hide.

  He could go anywhere, do anything, all without the threat of punishment looming over him. Limitless choices were before him, and each one tempted him.

  The choices he’d believed whittled away to nothing were there. The choice was his, and his alone.

  A shudder ripped through him. There were things Terin could do beyond what had been offered him. Without the collar, he could escape on his own. He could find a way to set the girl free as well, one way or another.

  If she was returned to Zurach and Emeric, her death wouldn’t be pleasant. Terin shuddered again, unable to imagine what the two men would do to her before they killed her.

  No one deserved that.

  It shouldn’t have bothered him. How many other slaves had he failed to save before? She’d survived the arena, though he wasn‘t sure how. It hadn’t been because of him.

  Terin still wasn’t sure how he’d survived or how Zurach had taken him from the arena. Like the memory of escaping the two brothers to fall into Lord Gabriel’s hands, the memory was gone.

  He could still feel the warmth of the man’s hands on his throat. Unlike Zurach, Lord Gabriel’s hands had been gentle. Firm. Comforting.

  ~Father,~ the voice murmured to him.

  Terin stilled at the warmth infusing the word and he couldn’t help but smile, even though he didn’t understand why.

  He’d never had a father.

  Shaking his head, he turned his thoughts back to the problem. Back to his choice.

  Alone, he might be able to escape from Erelith. All he needed to do was reach out and set the pieces on the table. If they slipped through his numb fingers, he didn’t know what would happen.

  Everything he knew was in his hands, bound to the collar he’d always worn, even when it’d been so large on him he’d worn it as a necklac
e.

  It’d been with him for as long as he could remember. It was the only thing left familiar to him, but if he wanted to do something—anything—he had to let it go.

  The presence within Terin watched and waited. ~Father,~ it said, and the reassurance didn’t quite manage to chase away the cold of his uncertainty.

  If he wanted to save her, he had to let the collar go. At first, he couldn’t force his hands to move at all. He stared down at the gold. The inner ring was stained brown with blood. His blood.

  If he let it go, it wouldn’t hurt him anymore. He could help the girl.

  He could be useful to someone. Wanted.

  The collar slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

  ~*~

  It happened faster than Blaise expected, and before the clatter of metal on the floor faded, he was out the door and headed to Aria’s workroom, leaving the woman sprawled on the floor in his wake. Her curses followed him. He managed to weave his way through the dolls without knocking any of them over in his haste.

  Terin was still on the stool, but the boy’s face was so white Blaise feared he would fall before he could make it the few steps to his side. He slipped one arm behind Terin’s back to prevent him from sliding to the floor. Reaching up, he pressed his other hand to the bandage-wrapped throat. Even through the cloth, he could feel the fast and erratic heartbeat.

  How much had it cost Terin to let go of the symbol of his slavery? Blaise couldn’t even imagine it. “You’re fine,” he whispered. The green eyes remained fixed on the pieces of the collar on the floor. With one sweep of his foot, he kicked them toward the door. “Aria!”

  “Yes,” the woman replied in Erelithian. Blaise breathed a sigh of relief when she stooped to pick up the pieces.

  “Out of sight,” he snapped.

  “Yes,” she replied, and her smile was radiant.

  Without the collar in view, the boy blinked, but Blaise doubted the unfocused stare saw anything at all. Reaching up with his free hand, he patted the pale cheeks, a little harder each time, until the green eyes snapped to him.

  Terin’s right eye was rimmed in divine red, while the other was tinged with blue. Blaise sucked in a breath.

  Mikael’s eyes.

  When he’d saved the boy, the colors had been the reverse—Lucin’s eyes. Aria’s question rang in his ears and Blaise’s blood turned to ice within him.

  How could Lucin’s vessel have Mikael’s eyes? Had Aria known something he didn’t?

  If that were true, how could he have not noticed it?

  Blaise took a deep breath, but he couldn’t catch even a hint of the divine’s scent. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

  Still, he had to ask. “Mikael?”

  Solemn eyes stared at him, but silence answered him. It filled him with terror and hope. The red and the blue faded away to nothing, leaving him with unconfirmed suspicions and fears. Was the color a trick by Lucin? Was it the unspoken desire for what had been and could never be again, or did Mikael reside somewhere within the boy with bright green eyes?”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Terin asked in a trembling whisper.

  Blaise swallowed and tried to ignore his thoughts for the sake of the boy—no, the young man—in front of him. “Rest. When you’re well, I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

  “My name is Terin,” Terin mumbled, and flinched as though expecting to be hit.

  Blaise smiled and ruffled the short-cropped, black hair. The wide-eyed expression almost made him laugh. “And I’m Blaise. Welcome to House Rafel. May the light of His Garden shine down on you, son.”

  Puzzlement darkened the boy’s green eyes. Then, Terin smiled.