by Lucy Smoke
I shoot through the dark, my body sore, my head pounding. When I open my eyes and find myself back at the Holy Order's Sanctuary, I release a pent-up breath of relief. Still, though, my body is shaky and cold. I'm drenched in a layer of sweat that soaks through my clothes and as I sit up, I have to reach out and grasp onto the side of the bed before turning to face the wall.
A figure steps into my view and I pause, fear ricocheting up my throat, thinking that it must be him. But no, it's not. I stare in shock as the familiar woman waiting for me in the shadows steps fully into the light of the morning dawn filtering in through my window. She is tall and lithe, a tigress in human skin. Her smile is warm, though, almost maternal in nature. Unable to stop myself, I stand on shaking legs and take a step towards her. She circles me once, curiosity in her eyes. Her limbs move with an ethereal gracefulness that I watch with fascination.
"I do apologize for the abruptness of your removal," the woman says, "but I worried that you would not be able to do so yourself before it was too late. Not in your condition."
"My condition?" I echo.
She nods and her smile this time is sad, regretful. "The unbinding has left your body open to...dark entries." She says the last bit through gritted teeth and her gaze strays away.
I shake my head and stare at her until it finally hits me. I know where I've seen her before.
"I know you," I say. I tremble as her eyes meet mine.
She's so beautiful, so perfect—in skin, in movement, in the musical sound of her voice—it makes me want to cry. She reaches up, touching my cheek. "You really are so full of potential. That's what all humans are, you know?" She smiles and the whiteness of her teeth against her ink colored skin is a startling contrast. "Humans have so much room inside of them to become more," she says. "That's why those that have the ability to host a spirit guide are called potentials; because whether or not they receive the gift, they have the ability to open themselves up and take in magic—to hold within them power beyond their wildest dreams."
"Who are you?" I ask. I want to hear her say it. I need to know I'm not crazy.
"I am Ngame of the Soul and Spirit."
I suck in a breath. Nope. Not crazy. I was right. I slowly move my arm closer to my side and quickly pinch myself. When she doesn't disappear, I squeeze my eyes closed for a split second and reopen them. Nope, she's still there. Somehow, her stunning smile brightens even more and the edges of her lips crinkle in amusement.
"No, you are not hallucinating, Nerys Newblood."
Good to know, I think as a kaleidoscope of emotions roil inside of me. Ngame's silken dress swirls around her ankles like water as she moves impossibly closer. Along the shafts of her braids, precious metals in the shape of animals—a snake, a panther, a dove—curl, circling the strings of her hair.
Ngame pulls her hand away from my face and stops at the edge of my bed, turning and seating herself upon the corner of the mattress. She crosses one knee over the other, the fabric of the dress rippling across her skin. She smiles again before patting the coverlet at her side.
"Come," she says, "sit with me. We will talk, you and I. We have much to discuss."
I don't know what to say, but one does not refuse an audience with a Goddess.
And she did just save your life, Obidian says.
Obidian! I physically pause, mid-movement, relief pouring through me at the sound of his voice so clear in my head once more. Thank the Gods!
Yes. He sounds almost sardonic. Quite literally.
"Nerys?" I jerk at the sound of Ngame's voice.
I inhale and exhale and approach slowly. I sit on the bed, a bit further away than where she indicated, but I'm still within reaching distance. Silence stretches and Ngame reaches for my hand. I almost pull away at the first touch of her skin against mine. She doesn't feel real. My eyes widen as her fingers slide over my wrist, touching my pulse point.
"He's still lingering." I don't know what she means at first, but when I figure it out, I stiffen and finally pull away.
I rub my wrist. "How is he..." I'm not exactly sure what he's doing.
I glance at her, watching her face in my periphery. Her mouth firms, her head turns. "Nerys. I did not come here to save you. I was already on my way to pay you a visit when I realized what was happening."
"Why are you here then?" I'm almost scared to know the answer. I can feel the pulse of Obidian in the depths of my mind, comforting me in the only way he knows how—in the only way that he can—by just being there.
"I am here because darkness has come to the world. A danger threatens the people that look up to me—to all of the Gods."
"Edwin," I say.
She nods.
"What is he?"
"He is that danger," she replies. There's a graveness about her features, a stillness about her body.
"Despite how some of the minor Gods may feel, I am not afraid to admit that we are not all powerful," Ngame says quietly. "And though I am included among the originals, I was once human. I recognize that all beings have weaknesses. We all have limitations. A part of being a God is remaining separate."
"But what about Amoni and T'skan—they said—"
"Yes," she cuts me off, "I visited them. I warned them. I couldn't tell them what was coming, though."
"How did you know?" I find myself asking. "Can you see everything? Do you know how it will all happen?"
Her smile is tinged with a sadness that reminds me of the first time I realized I wasn't like other children. I didn't have parents. I didn't have a family. The echo of a responding sorrow rings in my chest. I was different. I was separate. I didn't belong. No one cared about me and I regretted that I had ever been born. That is, I had...until Coen. Then Obidian had come to me. When I met Titus and Holden and Booker and Luca, the feeling lessened. Each time I gained a loved one some of that sadness was erased.
"No," Ngame finally answers, "I cannot see all. But there is a God who does. Queen Jiang sees all that has been, all that is, and all that will be. In this, I asked for her help. We create, and can only step in when an original law has been broken. Otherwise, the point of this world is free will."
I look down at my hands. Never in a million years would I have considered something like this happening to me. It still feels so surreal. There's a real goddess in my room, sitting on my bed. And she's telling me secrets of the Divine. I shake my head. Why me? I think. I'm just Nerys. I'm not incredibly smart—in fact, I barely paid attention in school. I'm not all that strong. I'm not—
Ngame grabs my face and turns it towards her. My eyes widen at the ferocity of her expression. "You have bravery and loyalty," she snaps. "Anyone can have intelligence. Anyone can educate themselves. They should. You may be completely ordinary in some ways, but Nerys, you are extraordinary in many others."
I gape at her. "Y-you can—"
"Hear your thoughts?" she finishes my question as she releases my chin and stands up, turning to face me.
I nod, numbly.
"Yes," she says. "Don't worry, though, I'm the only one with the ability. Apil took the gift from himself to give to me. He no longer possesses the ability at all."
"It's definitely a helpful ability to have," I say awkwardly.
"It can be," she amends. "But, as of now, it's not so much that I am peeking into your private thoughts, but that you are shouting them at me."
"Sorry," I mumble, looking away.
The blossoming light from the window glimmers over her skin as she tilts her head back and to the side. A collection of her braids slide off of her shoulder. She doesn't respond to my apology as she continues speaking. "We—the Gods—watch, observe, and record," she states. "Like ancient, ever-living, historical scribes." Her eyes meet mine. "We rarely intervene. And in this instance, we cannot. No original law has been broken. But you, Nerys. You can. I have a plan for you. I need to know one thing though. You ask 'why you?' Well, this could be the reason you're seeking."
"Okay," I say hesitantly,
curious and also a little scared.
"My question is this, Nerys Newblood: Are you willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people that you love?"
"Yes." The answer is out before I can even think. That's not even a question. I have no doubt. I'm almost shocked by how easy it is to answer.
A smile blooms on her face, brilliant and ethereal. "That is why you were chosen," she whispers into the air between us. "You are special in ways you can't even comprehend, little one." She closes her eyes for a brief moment and the softness of her expression morphs. When she reopens her eyes, her face is strained. She turns her body fully towards me and takes both of my hands in hers, lifting them. She speaks again, her words taking up my entire focus.
"He is dangerous, Nerys. You must understand that the free will we give, we give to all. Even minor Gods."
"He's a God?!" Panic edges into my tone.
She quickly shakes her head. "No," she replies. "Not exactly."
"What does that mean?" I ask. "Coen..." I trail off, the memory of seeing him so pained and tortured ricocheting through my chest like a rogue bullet, shattering into my ribcage and splintering me apart.
Ngame nods her head, knowingly. "He is changed, I know," she says.
"Coen?" I clarify.
She looks at me but doesn't answer. It's answer enough. Coen is changed. I won't ever get the old Coen back. But maybe I can do something to keep this Coen and help him heal.
"How do I defeat Edwin?" I say, spitting his name this time, pain and rage combining in a maelstrom of fury and dread.
"He is the product of the minor God, Death, and a human conception," Ngame says slowly.
"Death is a woman?" I ask, incredulous.
She shakes her head, squeezing my hands gently as if to offer some relief. "No, no. It is not that simple. Nothing ever truly is with the Gods." She sighs with impatience and I can see the humanity within her. Though I know it must have been centuries ago that she was of the flesh and blood, it still clings to her like a layer of wisdom she has that other Gods may not.
"Death is not defined by sex or gender," she explains. "Death is man, woman, child, animal, and yet none at all. Death is not so much evil as she—in this instance—is necessary. Without Death, there would not be Life."
I frown. “And Edwin is a child of Death?” I repeat. She nods. I straighten my shoulders, pushing them back as I narrow my gaze. I debate on telling her that it doesn’t matter what Edwin is to me. He hurt Coen, I’m going to kill him. Her lips twitch.
Shit, why do I keep forgetting she can read my mind?
It would likely not matter, Obidian replies to my question. One cannot stop the thoughts that come to mind. Especially one such as you.
That was a rhetorical question, I snap at him.
There's a ruffling in the back of my mind, almost like a disgruntled motion from the crusty old spirit.
“I don’t mind it so much,” Ngame says. “It’s actually quite endearing coming from someone so determined.”
She thinks I’m endearing...at least I have that going for me. No godly smiting of Nerys Newblood today.
She shakes her head, lip still twitching. But when she speaks next her face falls back into a more somber and serious expression. “We would not smite the one we are going to ask a favor of,” she says.
“A favor?”
She takes a breath, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she reopens them, they are glittering with untapped power. I feel the electricity of her gaze arch over my skin. The sheer amount and pressure of it rattles my bones and sends my heart sprinting.
“We need you, Nerys Newblood, to kill the child of Death.”
Well, I suppose I should have expected that. "How?" I ask.
Ngame releases my hands and steps back. "Obidian," she says.
Obidian's spirit moves in my mind and his voice comes through clear. I know, he says.
"You will tell her?" Ngame asks, speaking to him directly. It's a little odd having someone hear him and speak to him instead of through me.
Obidian is quiet.
Obi? His silence is disturbing. In fact, he's been quiet for most of this conversation. At first, I assumed it was because he wasn't comfortable speaking to the goddess. She had helped in binding him before. But now, I have to wonder if it's something else. He doesn't respond immediately.
Ngame sighs. "You know it may be the only option," she states.
Only if she agrees to it. I will not have her coerced. Obidian's growl rumbles through my mind, echoing loudly between my ears. He speaks with such harshness, it stuns me. Who speaks to a Goddess like that? I jerk my gaze to Ngame, but she doesn't look offended. In fact, her eyes avoid mine.
She looks, instead, towards my bedroom windows and out beyond where the fingers of dawn stretch across the sky and snow covered mountains. "You have my word—the both of you do," she finally says. "No coercion will be used. Free will is in all things. We will not manipulate her into making the choice. She will choose without our interference."
I will...tell her, Obidian responds.
When Ngame finally tears her gaze away from the window and looks at me, her smile edges into a region of anguish that I find myself reaching out to her before I know what I'm doing. I want to comfort her. To assure her that whatever it is, it will work out. All will be fine. How can I know that, though? She is a Goddess and I'm just mortal.
"For what it's worth, Nerys," she says, "you are special. You are loved. You belong. I'm sorry to have to ask this of you. I hope you'll forgive me."
"Ask me what?"
Ngame shakes her head and then turns and fades into the strands of light that pour in through my window—her form growing more and more blurred until there's nothing left. I continue to stare at the light that remains behind until I can take it no more.
Obidian, I say. What do I need to do? Whatever it is, I'll do it. I'll make sure Edwin pays for hurting Coen. For threatening my guys. For terrorizing them. For Madam Armaita. For Booker. Luca. Titus. Holden. For them all. I'll give up anything.
Die, Obidian answers. You need to die.
Apparently, I'll even give up my life for them.
11
Passing Time
Breakfast at the Sanctuary is a somber affair. Well, it is for me since no one else seems to realize how hard my whole existence has hit me in the last few hours, after Ngame disappeared—supposedly back into the realm of the Divine...or wherever Gods and Goddesses go in their downtime...you know, when they weren’t telling you to kill yourself.
You will not remain dead, Obidian reminds me. I will ensure your survival, Nerys. You have my oath.
I watch as Holden and Titus head up to the table that I’m sitting at with a plate of bread and cheese in front of me. They both throw me wide smiles—appearing far more relaxed than they have since I met them. It’s like the sanctuary has given them back a piece of themselves. A warm body slides into the seat next to me. I glance up and into cloud gray eyes. I pause, the whole world falling away, as I let myself just fall into the depths of Coen’s gaze.
It takes all of my strength to finally tug myself away. I have to focus on something else. I have to come back to reality. Around us, more and more holy men and women fill up the tables of the long stone feasting room.
Remind me again, I say to Obidian as I tear off a hunk of bread and stuff it in my mouth.
He sighs. You will go to the cave at the highest point of this mountain, he begins. Inside the cave, there is a spring. It is the spring of Queen Jiang’s tears.
The Goddess of the moon? Are they real tears? That would be weird, taking a bath in some lady’s tears.
No, it is simply a spring enchanted with her powers. It is the reason the Holy Order’s sanctuary was built upon this mountain. It is believed that to be closer to the spring is to be closer to the next world.
Is it true? Is it like a portal?
In a way…His voice is tight as he continues. For you, it will be a portal for yo
ur spirit. For the body, however, it is simply another spring. Queen Jiang’s enchantment keeps it from icing over. It will allow you to access the other world—the world between here and the Divine.
Like the afterlife? I ask.
No. The world between worlds. Where restless souls wait to be taken to the afterlife. You will submerge yourself in the spring. The cold will freeze your body and in a near state of death, I will be released. My spirit will return to my original form.
I note how he specifically emphasizes the word near. Dragon bodies don’t decay? I ask.
No, they do not. My body is buried beneath another mountain in the distance.
How far? I demand. Too far and he won’t reach me in time. Too far and when I die, that’s it, I’ll just be dead. I’m scared. I don’t want to die. But...I look around as Holden steals food from Titus’ plate and Titus punches him in the arm as Coen watches with passive quietness, fatigue etched into his features. I’ll do it. Even though I’m scared, I’ll still do it.
It is far, Obi admits. My heart plummets. I will make it in time.
“Nerys?” I look up as Titus says my name. “You’re quiet. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Holden leans forward, eyeing me. “I thought you’d be happy we made it here. We’re safe now.”
Before I can formulate a reply, Coen grunts. “For how long?” All eyes turn to him. I look down as his arms fold across his chest. His plate remains untouched. “How long are we going to be safe here?” he asks. Cool eyes meet mine. “You heard what the priest and priestess said, he’s still coming.”
Bitter quiet falls around us. The realization of our impending circumstances seems to sink into the atmosphere. Titus’ lips tighten, but he doesn’t speak. Holden pushes his plate away just a scant inch or so, but for him—it’s a sign. I tear my gaze away. “We’ll figure out a way,” I say, hoping I sound confident, “to defeat him. Things will go back to the way they were, you’ll see.”
“No, Princess,” Holden says with a sigh. “I don’t think they will. Coen’s right. There’s going to be a battle.”