Mwyr - Chapter Ten

[lady_mab]

 

The landscape was as colorless as the night she had woken beneath the tree. Grey, no light but what filtered down from the two full moons and the ring that cut through the sky. Arika glanced to the side, expecting to see the tree, or even the distant mountains. 

Instead, all she saw were indistinct mounds that indicated graves. 

Her feet carried her at a slow pace down the barely-visible path. There was no breeze to stir the hairs that clung to her neck. It took a second before she realized that she once again wore her jeans and sweatshirt. The clothes she had woken up in. 

Still she walked, footsteps rattling on the empty walkway. The sound ricocheted off the walls, folding back on her and pressing down until she drowned in the waves. Her breaths struggled in the oppressive atmosphere that didn't even exist. She didn’t quite know what she was looking for until a statue rose out of the shadows before her. 

Her gaze slipped from the winged beast on the podium to a small white stone protruding from the ground. Curious, she dropped into a crouch and started to brush away the dirt. The motions were distantly familiar. She longed for a brush that she could use instead of the tips of her fingers. She kept dusting, and the stone grew larger, until she realized it wasn’t a stone.
It was a set of bones.

She brushed away the dirt to reveal a knuckle joint, on to the claw like tip of the thin finger. Further up there was another finger, and another, until she revealed a whole hand. Her stomach clenched, and she jerked back to her feet. A scream lodged itself in her throat but wouldn’t work its way between her clenched teeth. 

The shadows of the statue flickered. When her attention shifted to it, the characteristics were far more concrete than what she remembered. It looked like the beasts from beneath the tree or from the grass field. The longer her attention lingered, the more detail it took on. 

A breath of life shuddered through the stone chest and it unfurled. Its head lifted, but the black eyes did not turn in her direction. “Do you know what happened the last time the Goddess visited Mwyr?” 

Arika held still, watching the creature shift and stretch wings toward the stars. “What?” 

“She fell in love. She died.” 

“Are the two related?” 

“The two before her died as well. All following the first -- the true Goddess.” Stone claws scraped over the podium beneath it, and it crawled down to be level with her. It didn’t answer her question. “You will die. As will those who follow after.” 

“I will not.” 

“That’s what they all said.” It sidled closer, still unable to meet her gaze. “And I watch them die every time. He will want to stop you, and he's powerful enough that not even your good intentions will save you."

She straightened her spine. “I do not need saving.”

The creature laughed, and for a moment, it sounded like Chan. “That's how it goes, Goddess. One by one, they come and they fall. You're just the next in the long line. Our Mother couldn't stop it when she first walked across Mwyr, and you will not be the one to finish it."

When Arika breathed in, she tasted metal on her tongue and felt her blood shift in her veins. “I will end this curse.” 

It laughed again, and when it looked at her, its eyes were deceptively human. They belonged to a face that a distant part of her recognized. “You -- who rejects what is inside of you? The Church and Her followers were waiting for the Goddess, and you happened along. Broken, ill-conceived. You will die like the rest. A victim to your own powers--”

Wind swirled at her feet and thunder rumbled in her bones. Her voice was the roar of a summer storm. She lashed out at the creature, but her fist hit smoke. 

Only its laughter remained, echoing the way her footsteps did in the empty valley. 

Above, six bright stars twinkled and watched on a backdrop of galaxies. 

Arika stumbled a step forward and caught herself on the edge of the empty podium. The stone burned cold beneath her grip, but she didn’t let go. Her scream turned into the howl of winds, and the magic surged around her. "I won't," she said to no one. "I won't be like the others. I am nothing like them."

"No, sister, you are not."

Arika's head snapped up. A man several years older than her had taken the statue's place atop the podium. His eyes were the color of poison. 

He grinned the moment their eyes locked. One moon crowned either side of his head, and the ring speared his skull straight through. "You are better than those imposters."

"Fuck off. I don't care who you are, just get out of my head." Her fingers raked back through her hair, gripping at the roots and pulling until tears came to her eyes. "I am nothing." Her voice dropped to a whisper, the words more to herself than the stranger. "I am nothing..."

He swung his legs around the podium, forcing her to stumble back. Planting his hands on his knees, he leaned in toward her and smiled. The expression cut across his face in a crooked line, and the poisonous eyes held her captive. "If you’d like... I could help you change all that, little sister."

"Stop calling me that."

“I would, would it stop it from being true.” 

“Who are you?” 

His head tilted to the side, eyes wide and unblinking. She couldn’t look away, hypnotized despite herself. The strong, heavy tang of magic leaked from him. As he spoke, the grin spread until it became a jagged tear in the fabric of his presence. “Don’t you recognize me, little sister? Don’t you recognize your own slow, agonizing death?” 

He lurched from the podium, teeth turning into fangs, and Arika threw her arms in front of her face. Her scream was lost in the wind, but it followed her out of the dream. 

A hand gripped her wrist. It was cold and clammy, and held on despite the way she tried to shake it off. “Arika... Arika! Calm down, it was only a nightmare.”

She struggled for breath, free hand clutching at her throat. There was poison in her blood, closing down her airways, making it impossible to breathe, making it--

“Arika...” Another hand landed on her head, fingers brushing hair away from her forehead. The touch was a balm against the venom that still haunted her. “Shhh you’re going to be alright. You were having a bad dream.” 

The tension eased from her limbs and she relaxed back into the mattress. Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself staring up at a strange, low ceiling that was somehow comforting. “Where...?” 

“You came home from the hospital yesterday... Don’t you remember?” 

Her head rolled to the side, and a young man with sharp features and soft eyes sat watching her. His expression flickered as his fingers combed through her hair. “Who--” 

The smile came easy, though tinged with concern. “It’s me, you idiot. Did you hit your head that hard? You hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep, even before the accident.” 

Arika closed her eyes and enjoyed the touch in her hair. “What happened?” 

“We fell down a cliff, how can you not remember?” She could hear the smirk in his voice without even having to look. It was familiar, although she couldn’t remember what he looked like the moment her eyes slipped shut. “I got three bruised ribs and a twisted ankle, and somehow all you managed to do was hit your head and get a concussion. Talk about unfair.” 

When she breathed, the air was cool and unburdened. “I was having a weird dream...” 

“You seem to be full of those lately.” He didn’t look up as her gaze focused on hm. His long, slender fingers spun a small stone coin between them with expert grace. 

She pushed herself upright and reached for it. “What is that?” 

He pressed it into her palm, but still didn’t meet her gaze. “I made you one a few days ago, but I didn’t know if I wanted to give it to you. Seemed fitting now after all the trouble we went through. On the brink of despair, one finds Hope.” He laughed to himself as she studied the etching on the stone coin.  “Or I guess, as you said, one finds Mwyr.”

Arika’s head jerked up, and amber eyes settled to meet with hers. For a moment, she saw someone else -- someone as sharp and cold as the stone in her hand. “Mwyr...” 

“A Goddess should wear her own symbol, shouldn’t she?” he said with a shrug. He reached out and closed her fingers around the stone, and she noticed the one that he wore on a thin cord around his neck. 

“And you, Philip?” His name came to her lips before she could even think about how she knew it. “How do you fit in?” 

He didn’t respond, but his hands remained cupped around hers. “How indeed, Arika?” 

She awoke slowly this time. Her hands still tingled from the memory of his touch. Her fingers unfurled, one by one. A stone sat in the middle of her palm, a diamond speared through by a line angled at either end carved into the middle of it. 

A sigh left her lungs, and her eyes slipped shut. Her thumb ran over the etched rune, finding comfort in the familiarity of the symbol. 

The rune of Mwyr. 

#

Loki held the diamond between his thumb and forefinger. The candlelight flickered off the wooden walls, reflected by the faceted surface of the stone. The memory of the Goddess echoed through the tips of his fingers. The fear from her recent dream still coursed through his blood. 

Her residual magic would have shocked anyone else. It would clash with their touch. He alone was lucky enough to hold it, though luck might have little to do with it.

The diamond had been lost since the Goddess first walked across Mwyr. It returned to him for a reason, and it was up to him to give it back to her. As much as he despised the cyclical nature of his role, he knew the importance of his presence. 

Murmured voices floated through the stillness of the abandoned cabin. The Ti’Corrah must have returned from one of their many ‘scouting missions’. He couldn’t tell who it was in particular. They all sounded the same to him. 

He returned the diamond to the thin silver chain and clasped it in place at the nape of his neck. It settled beneath the high collar of his coat. 

He stepped into the other room. The three Ti’Corrah looked up from where they lurked out of reach of the light from the fireplace. They stopped talking immediately, even though he couldn’t understand their guttural tongue. “So nice that three of you have returned from your personal tasks.” He offered a thin smile.

Caelie straightened her shoulders as Ignus ducked his head. It always fascinated him to watch the creature’s shift in his presence. “Master.” She moved to stand before the crippled Belal, placing herself between him and Loki. “Where are the others?” 

A part of him wanted to ask what they had been talking about. His fingers twitched against his thighs. The spell came to mind and hesitated on his tongue. He could compel them to tell him -- he had that power over them. 

But if he wanted their trust, as feeble as it was, he couldn’t push. “They are finishing up their own missions. I trust your errands went well, then?” 

Belal said something he couldn’t understand, and it drew a snort of amusement from Caelie. Her reptilian lips curled into something resembling a sneer. “Yes, quite well.”

He turned toward Ignus, who refused to meet his gaze. “I see you spurred the prince into action.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Interesting choice. Out of everyone, I would have thought he would be the most dangerous to approach face to face.” 

This time, the Ti’Corrah’s dark eyes swiveled his direction. The scaled brow twitched and furrowed. “Are you suggesting I shouldn’t have?” 

Loki was not suggesting anything, but they wouldn’t have believed him either way. He shrugged in response. “What you do on your own time is of no consequence to me. Your actions inevitably play into my hand in the grand scheme of things.” 

“Then why not just command us the way you want to?” Caelie challenged, and his hands twitched again in response to her words. She was right. He could. Remove any of their agency and leave it to his own designs. 

He waited until the words of the spell left his tongue. It would only taint his attempts at being civil. Perhaps it was a bad idea to wear the Goddess’ diamond. It burned against his throat, eager to be used. “Magic is best used when all participants are willing,” he said, wondering how much of a lie it was. 

The three Ti’Corrah exchanged glances, and a distant part of him knew what they thought. How willing had they had been when they first tasted magic? Belal’s crippled leg was testament enough to what happened to those who were unwilling, regardless of the circumstances he had been under. 

Besides, threats worked best that way. 

A flash of heat echoed through the stone. Loki winced and did his best to disguise a grunt of pain behind a cough. Even thinking about the original followers of the Goddess made her memories stir. Her confusion at their absence, struggling with the denial of the betrayal. 

It took longer than he would have liked before he could be certain of whose thoughts were in control. No wonder the Goddess couldn’t keep straight who she was. He could still remember the wide-eyed look she gave him that night in the rain. Complete ignorance behind those dark blue orbs. Not a single spark of recognition -- not for him, nor for her situation. It would all become clear once he gave her back the diamond, though. 

She wouldn’t be able to question her powers then. 

Ignus was the one to break the silence. “Master?”

His gaze darted to the timid Ti’Corrah, the scaled creature flinching beneath the attention. “What is it?” 

“Do you have any orders for us?” 

He hated giving orders, especially in such an open-ended situation. From what the others told him, the Goddess was getting ready to leave the old farmhouse and travel to Hullenscir. He couldn’t touch her there. “I need to devise a plan to get her to Gi’Han.” 

Belal spoke again in the guttural language. He half wondered if the injured Ti’Corrah even knew the common tongue anymore, or if he had simply left it behind with his humanity all those centuries ago. 

Caelie translated. “What do we need to get her there for?” 

“Despite your visit to the Church, we are far from welcome there. The Goddess will be under heavy watch, and not allowed to see anyone outside of a set schedule. There is no way that I will be able to approach her.” 

“Why not?” 

Loki’s hand lifted to his throat, the tips of his fingers grazing the exposed skin. He had been absent through most of Tallah’s illness. The Deacon and the members of his congregation did not know him. That meant he couldn’t walk up to the Goddess and set his plan into motion. “They say the feet of an unholy person will burn if they step on consecrated ground,” he said instead, trying to sound as cryptic as possible. 

Caelie rewarded him with a snort of laughter. “Aye? I suppose you would be worse off than us. You are more of a monster than we are.” 

He wanted to tell them that he wasn’t who they took him to be, but that would have been a lie. The problem was remembering that himself. He received a poor lot in life, learning that he would follow in his sister’s footsteps. 

That he would be doomed to repeat the past unless he made a conscious effort not to. 

Every single choice he made weighed heavily against choices made for him in a past life. 

“Perhaps,” he finally replied. The word left his lips with a heavy sigh, but he squared his shoulders against the temptation to slouch. “The point remains that I need her outside of the Church walls. We have allies in Gi’Han. It will be best to bring her there.” 

“Allies,” Ignus repeated, drawing out the syllables. The word rolled off his tongue with a strange, stilted accent. It wasn’t a word meant for their cursed mouths.  

“Come now, you can’t be bitter at them on the princeling’s behalf.” Caelie might have been teasing. It was hard to tell. Everything she said sounded sarcastic. “He is merely filling your void. You owe each other nothing.” 

Belal spoke to his sister, but Ignus was the one to reply. He fired off the words in rapid succession, anger flaring in his beady eyes. It was the most emotion that Loki could remember him ever displaying. 

Loki saw the look in Caelie’s gaze and cut her off before an argument he couldn’t understand erupted. “Is this something I should be aware of?”

“No, Master.” She ducked her head in a rare show of submission. It must be bad if she couldn’t even look him in the eye. 

He didn’t have the room in his head to allow it to bother him, though. There were so many other things racing around. An argument in a language he didn’t speak couldn’t afford any space. He would have to ask Adil about it later. The budding argument would undoubtedly return once he turned his back. 

They spoke freer around each other when they thought he couldn’t hear. Even if he couldn’t understand a single word. 

“Continue to keep an eye on the Goddess as she travels.” Loki resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. The budding headache wouldn’t back off that easily. “I will wait for Adil and the others to return before journeying onto Gi’Han myself.” 

He turned to head back into his study, a chorus of yes, masters at his back. A thought gave him pause, and he twisted around. “Ensure you keep your distance. She will meet with the envoy from the Church soon, and we cannot run the risk of them learning about you.” 

“You do not think someone else will tell them? The prince, or the Goddess herself, for instance.” 

“No, Caelie, I do not. There are few who know of your existence in the first place. Those who will take your places at her side will keep that secret close to their hearts.” When he breathed, the diamond pulsed in time. 

The distant part of her that lived within the stone heard his words. She stirred at the mention of her companions. 

The Ti’Corrah were not supposed to exist. The pieces in this new game were all supposed to be echoes of the past, but he had found the originals. Or, more appropriately, they had found him. Back when he was young, before the orphanage. Before he knew anything about the Goddess and her first visit to Mwyr. Before he knew of the companion that traveled with her from their divine home. 

He carried that story in his blood, and they had smelled it on him. The magic that coiled dark and deep in his bones. They cursed his name before he even knew that it was his.