Mother Dryad stood some feet from Nara, smiling kindly upon the one who was of her own. Nara heard her heart, could feel her pull when the dryad moved forward in fluid motions, tiny beats in her feet that sent pulses through the earth towards Nara. Taking Mother Dryad’s extended hand, Nara became as light as she had been on the dragon, ecstasy pulling at her senses. As though floating off the ground, Nara followed the dryad, watching the forest’s edge come closer with the throbbing of the dryad’s heart. The dragon, still tied to the tree, bowed in their procession, long neck bending in grace while wide eyes like orbs kept a close watch.
In the forest, Nara heard the sounds that none knew to be the dryads. In awe, they swayed, watching their mother wrap her long arms around Nara and pull her farther into the forest. Aside from Mother Dryad, these dryads were unfamiliar yet knew Nara intimately through the whispering of the world.
Nara felt at peace, at home when they reached a grove. Beautiful scatterings of light drifted through the air over the small pool of water at the center while the fae flitted around, coming to the edge of the water. It was calm and untouched by the many that moved closer.
The dryads came to watch, standing at the edges of the trees with fae resting on their shoulders like oversized insects. When Mother Dryad led Nara to the pool’s edge, she helped her gently to her knees. The forest stilled in anticipation.
Look, the dryad said, and she did.
Images flashed in the shallow water, ones of death through immortals and mortals alike, of fire and portals raging across Arlania. It was the death she had seen once before, only now it appeared more intense. Creatures she had never envisioned shook the very core of Arlania. And with each passing fight of death, Nara’s mark burned. The light of gold shone from where the mark wrapped around her arms. The burning slowly intensified, causing her to feel the pain of death that had yet to happen.
When it ended, tears streamed across her cheeks and fell into the pool.
Mother Dryad spoke again. Through anything you might endure, my child, you must know and remember… You are a bearer of peace, a harbinger of love to this beautiful world. Stay in this position offered to you and do all that is required of you, all that you know to be right. Stay near him, near to the throne.
She swallowed hard before she could speak, eyes looking at the still silent waters. “I can’t.” The words caused a shooting pain to run through her mark, her head falling back in a silent scream.
You must. You are the beginning of this world’s end.
Hearing her name, Nara whipped her head around to see Castien nearby but no others, dryad, fae, or elf alike. Curious eyes fell on her when he approached, but he made no mention of her disappearance when he led her away.
One final warning drifted through the air, one that still only she could hear.
This war begins with you and your lover, Nara; your decisions are crucial and unavoidable.
CRAITH
Craith endured torture every day since her arrival.
Though he knew it caused her great discomfort, Craith could not help but gaze upon Maida while they rode towards Choráis. He should have known better than to barter with Eusa. He had not listened to her words well enough before agreeing to help her in exchange for Maida’s presence. Although she had told him what their father planned, confirming his suspicions of both war and distrust, she had knowingly tricked Maida into following her to see Craith with another in his bed. Something that he swore to Maida would not happen as long as she held his heart.
He made himself out to be a liar and oath breaker.
Still, the lingering thought had not left. If she truly hated him, why had she reacted so strongly? Why did she need the constant barrier of her family if she was so hardened to him?
Maida’s brothers warned him to keep his distance, and Craith did. Under his father’s direction to appease the others, he kept his distance. None knew the torture of having her so close and being unable to speak with her had become insufferable.
Eusa, who took to spying on Maida, amplified Craith’s torture by telling him that Maida spoke about him. But Eusa would not say what she said. Eusa knew Craith’s desire to speak with her again was so strong that he had not taken another to bed since Maida had seen him. Craith wanted to make amends with his one-time lover, and he knew that would have to start with silent offerings to a woman who was a goddess in his eyes.
When they stopped for another night somewhere in Katharos, Craith sent Vari off to scout and trudged up a nearby hill to relax and reflect, not desiring the noise and excitement that all seemed to partake in despite being enemies, despite the death. No one knew what Thaos was truly capable of. Even if Thaos ordered his people to slay Elona’s, both sides descended from the same territory. They would always be considered kin, and they would always meld easily with one another.
Save for those few who were always cautious.
While Craith stood staring out over the wide expanse of land, Eamon broke the peace of his rest, the immortal’s voice calmer than the other night yet dripping with venom. “Stop watching Maida. She can feel you and your twisted thoughts breathing down the back of her neck.”
Scoffing, Craith glanced over his shoulder. “You would know what my thoughts are, human?” Flexing under his leather guard, Craith turned to Eamon. The scar that marked Eamon from the corner of his brow to his lip shone bright in the moonlight, stretching like thick veins. Craith wondered if it still bothered him both physically and mentally. Before Elona granted Eamon immortality, Thaos had matched him against Craith. Eamon, young and as hot tempered as he still was, fought better than anyone imagined. The man had studied under his god Darsus, but it still surprised them. However, even though Eamon had thrown Craith to the ground, Thaos ordered Craith to teach him a lesson, to show Eamon he would never be above a god. Thaos had berated Craith with both words and violence until Craith scarred Eamon with his poisoned sword, causing him to fall ill before Thaos gave permission to ease the festering.
Maida understood why Craith followed Thaos’s direction then. She forgave him when the others would not. He knew she’d understand if he told her the reason he helped his father rape her, the threat Thaos gave him. But under threat, he could not tell her.
“Tell me when it happened that a man became able to hear a god’s prayer?” Craith pressed on with his lip upturned when Eamon would not answer. “If you can hear my prayer, please grant it.” Eamon continued in his silence, eyeing the god from the safe distance he kept. Craith, intending to cause the man discomfort, shot forward, stopping only a foot from the immortal. Seeing a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a sharp turn in his shoulder, Craith scoffed. “It has not happened, has it, Eamon? It has not happened that you and I have switched lives, and you can feel the hurt, hunger, and desire of thousands weighing down on your feelings. Your sister is as beautiful as the day I met her. If I stare, my apologies, but it cannot be helped.”
“You wounded her—”
“And I would rescind that if I could,” Craith interrupted, staring down at Eamon. In an attempt to turn the conversation to something less painful, Craith inquired without missing a beat, “Tell me, where is the one that you answer to?”
Eamon narrowed his eyes, answering inquisitively, “Elona oversees the camp.”
Craith shook his head. “Not her; the one that fills her bed.”
Eamon’s jaw hardened from taking another shot at his ego. Craith never thought himself a cruel god, never did he instill distress on another unless it was a necessary act or ordered by his father. Yet, he woefully admitted to himself, it had become an art to do so against The Chosen. Still, in Craith’s mind, he knew there was a point to this, despite the discontent he hid well.
“We rule equally beneath Elona’s godhead,” Eamon replied, taking a step back. “That was the arrangement we made when we gave up any rights we had to our land, when we left Darsus behind.” Eamon took another step backwards, making it clear he was ready to leave, to not engage in s
ome truth he could not face.
Craith was quick with his words now. “Then why is it that Drudan holds more sway over Elona than any of you? Do you and your siblings not turn to him when you need a decision made?”
Eamon closed his eyes for a moment. “We deliberate and have him convey our decision to her.”
“Is that why Elona is marching alongside Thaos again, Eusa and Hathus are having their way with your people, and I am breathing down your sister’s neck?” Craith advanced on him. “Is that why Arisa is missing? Who decided these circumstances, Eamon? The last I recall before Father blasted a permanent hole through the realms was that the Thrasons wanted nothing more to do with demons.” Raising his hands in front of him, he added, “Yet here we are.”
Eamon stood perfectly still, the discipline stronger in him in this instance than it had been over the past few days. Eamon had put himself into a dangerous position, something they both knew. Craith could now see his frustrations boiling through the clouds of his eyes. He could now see that Eamon knew his anger had been misdirected at Thaos and his brood. It was true that Thaos led them all astray and that deception was the cause of Arisa’s disappearance coupled with a few hundred deaths in its wake. But none of that could have happened if only Elona and Drudan had not given Thaos another thought. Craith knew it had not been a unanimous decision.
Eamon spat at his feet, muttering, “Stay away from Maida,” before he stormed away over the hill.
Despite what Eusa had done with Maida, he still felt the desire to cause Drudan pain. In that moment, Craith knew he had worked his words well, turning the direction of hate and betrayal away from where it would have otherwise strengthened their bonds.
NARA
On their flight back to Ionus, Nara half-heartedly listened to Castien speak of all the things he desired to show her, of the life he lived, and of what awaited her. He told her of a feast being prepared for her. Though she was happy there would finally be an intimate setting with her family, Nara was focused on what she had seen in the forest. She compared it to what she saw when she received her mark. Everything said was vague, and she felt lost trying to make sense of it.
Holding tightly to Castien, she watched the skies melt from the bright of day to the many pinks and oranges of the summer sunset. While a dryad had told her the decision of war started with them, Nara considered the possibility that a demon was tricking her. Lore stated that no demon would enter their islands. Nara now knew that to be false, and the feeling the demon had filled her with had not yet vanished even with its disappearance. She worried her mark had been gifted to her by a demon...or even by the Father of Demons. With that shattering thought, she held more tightly to Castien, not wanting anything to do with those who divided the world so long ago.
However, Nara couldn’t believe something so beautiful had been made by such a tormented soul, and if something were amiss, surely the High Elder would have known. Even if her deviance from the old ways had remained unseen, surely such a dark power would have been noticed.
Still, there would always be clouds of doubt after what she and Castien did, especially after seeing the demon that night. Nara allowed that fear to follow her.
Spotting the city rise into view, Nara placed a gentle kiss against his neck before withdrawing from him, relaxing into the seat while he pulled at the reins to safely land in the stables. She struggled with herself, not knowing whether she should tell him what had happened or not. The dryad told her to stay in her arrangement and that Nara and Castien’s decisions were significant. Until Nara had met Castien, she never thought herself very important at all. Not even in the eyes of her friends.
After handing their riding gear to a stable hand, Castien gently pushed her in the back and led her through the streets. The night was warm, a stark contrast from the wind that had been rushing by them in the air. A sudden thought came to her as she looked towards the edge of the city and across the red and orange painted sky and ocean. How was it that Mother Dryad came to her across the water? The dryads held many secrets that Nara doubted she would ever fully know.
“You are quiet,” Castien remarked, leading her into the castle.
Nara glanced at him. “I’ve been thinking,” she replied. After a moment’s silence, she looked towards a passing horseman and asked, “Have those on Ghela heard of the prophecies from the time before the sundering?”
Castien did not respond as they ascended the stairs.
“Castien?” she prodded, taking his hand.
“We have, of course,” Castien replied at last, lifting his hand from hers as they passed others. “With a prophet, it is usually the first prophecy they speak of, it has not changed. This war is a future that is unavoidable so far.”
Fire casters were lighting candles throughout the halls, flames sparking from their fingertips, and she stared wide-eyed. The tiny flames danced from one holder to the next, willed by their owner until ending at each corner.
Castien spoke with much restraint. “Why do you ask, Nara?”
Nara looked at him, eyebrows falling heavily when she thought of the dryads. Her lips parted as shouting echoed around the corner. A deep, angry voice caused Nara to slow as they came closer to her chambers.
Peering around the corner, Nara saw an elf taller than she standing in front of her room, the guards keeping the position Castien had told them to. Light brown hair flipped past his shoulders when he tried to push his way through the guards. “I am your prince, and I demand you allow me through!”
“Again, our apologies, Your Highness,” one guard said, staying close to his companion and blocking the elf’s path. “We cannot. We were given strict instruction to not allow any disturbance of Her Royal Highness, by anyone.” The guard cleared his throat, his eyes shifting. Nara’s hands kneaded one another, anxious to do something.
Feeling a tight squeeze on her arm, Nara looked at Castien who spoke quietly, “We should return later when—”
The prince marched towards them, anger weighing heavily in one name spoken, “Castien.” The guards swayed on their feet, and Castien had yet to release her arm from the vice-like grip, which caused her hand to tingle. The closer the other came, the harder Castien gripped, and though she was sure he was going to bruise her, she would not pull away.
“These men are lying,” her brother snapped, pointing back towards the guards. A spark of anger flashed like wildfire through his deep forest-colored eyes. “Are they are lying for you, Castien?” Those eyes darted between them, the beast in him ready to rip into their flesh.
“No, My Lord,” Castien said, tugging Nara closer. “I found her wandering about. I was escorting her back to her room. The king does not want her lost, after all.” When he finally released Nara’s arm, she winced and rubbed it. Castien lowered his head towards her. “This is your brother, Prince Sudriel.”
Nara smiled, but, despite a small sliver of happiness forming in her chest, the temper Sudriel showed made her wary and quiet. Standing still, she allowed Sudriel to drink her in while she too absorbed his features. They had similar features and hair, but he was much taller, had a longer nose, and his eyes were of their father.
“Into your room, dear sister, I wish to speak with you.” Sudriel spoke sweetly with a hint of a smile that made her stomach lurch. Nara glanced at Castien, and he nodded, indicating for her to do as requested.
Hesitation in her step, Nara ambled forward with Castien close by her side. When they reached the guardsmen, who opened the doors, a nearly unnoticeable slip of the hand passed between Castien and the guards when he handed them coins. Nara remained silent. Whatever reason Castien had for lying to Sudriel or to anyone, Nara trusted it.
Nara flinched when the door slammed shut behind them, and not a second passed before Sudriel demanded, “Show me your mark.”
Nara blinked and shook her head, setting her feet hard against the floor. “I don’t want to.”
Sudriel scoffed. Taking Nara by the arm, he forced her to face away from hi
m. The shock of it lit the fire of her anger, sending a coursing, thoughtless blaze through her. In a swift motion, she whirled around and cracked the back of her hand across his face. His cheek blazed red and the shock caused the aggression to deepen in his eyes. He grabbed her by the arm again, this time she could feel her flesh bruising beneath his iron grip.
“Sudriel, let her go!” Castien bellowed, though he had not yet acted.
“I want to see her mark!” Sudriel fumed. Grabbing her by the back of her neck, he slammed her against the wall. One hand holding Nara in place, he ripped the lacing of her bodice. Nara, with fists pounding into the stone wall, screamed and tried to wrench her body free.
The door creaked, and the guards rushed in, the sound of metal scraping before they, like Castien, hesitated. Now charring cloth brushed Nara’s senses while heat churned against her back. Sudriel commanded, “You men will wait outside unless you hear me scream.” Nara, still unable to see anything but the chamber walls, waited and hoped that they would not leave, she prayed someone would take action against the brother she just met.
To her disadvantage, she heard the door close again, quietly and without alarm.
“I do not intend to hurt you,” Sudriel muttered, freeing the bodice from around her. “However, if you continue to struggle, if you scream again, or if Castien so much as takes a step towards me, I will. Father is forgiving of blood, and I only wish to see the rumored mark. Why do so many know about it yet you refuse to show me?”
Nara heard the ripping of cloth before bare fingers skimmed her naked back. Unable to call through to her blood crystals for anything but the mundane, Nara squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he spoke words of truth. After her gown and chemise fell away, ripped off her and left to the ground, Sudriel put explorative hands on her back. Long nails traced her mark. Fingers trailed along her skin until he cupped her buttocks with one hand.
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