Mwyr - Chapter Nineteen

[lady_mab]

Mica and Mina camped in front of Hullenscir for the next handful of days. The flat land turned into a forest of tents and campfires by the end of the week after the Goddess arrived. 

People flocking to the city were not allowed inside. The guards said it was for the safety of the Goddess until she was ready to see her people. Mica wasn’t too sure that he believed it, but staying outside Hullenscir did not bother the twins. They were used to sleeping outdoors. 

Luckily, they still had their pass that allowed them access into the city. Mica fetched their belongings from the hotel and they joined the people squatting before the gates. 

Ten days after the Goddess arrived, Mina woke him up before the sun had even crested the horizon. “We have to go,” she whispered, tread careful and soft as it always was. “Something is calling me.” 

Mica grumbled, but rolled out of the sleeping bag and onto his feet. He was awake the moment her fingers landed on his arm, but it never hurt to pretend to be frustrated with waking up early. 

She picked her way around smoldering embers and sleeping faithful -- ready for a glimpse of their Goddess. Mica snorted as they passed. What kind of Church kept their people from the object of worship? 

If Churmani or Darvanu appeared, the Rotia would not hide them behind stone walls. They would be able to move as they pleased, just like the way of the people. 

And here these faithful were, locked out of their own house of worship, because ‘she was not ready’. 

Ahead of him, Mina’s braid flashed an unnatural amber in the light of an early-riser’s breakfast fire, and he hurried to catch up. “Where are we going?” 

Her fingers drummed above her heart, following a rhythm that he couldn’t hear. “Something happened to her in the city today. And something is happening to her now.” 

“What sort of something?” 

She hesitated, a shrug catching onto her shoulders. “I don’t quite know. It was a painful sort of tug, like a bunch of her threads gathered together and then--” Mina mimed a sharp yank of her arm. “It doesn’t hurt as much now.” 

He caught onto her elbow, pulling her to a stop as they passed the last of the fires. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Her eyes turned toward him, unable to reflect any of the lights. “There is nothing you could have done. I handled it.” She couldn’t go hunting with him and their father, but she was far tougher than he had thought to give her credit for. That was their mother’s strength -- an unwavering heart and power to forge through even the toughest situations. 

“I know, but still. You shouldn’t have to suffer in silence if something is bothering you.” 

Mina ducked her head to hide the hint of a smile. When she looked up again, it was a blank canvas. “Someone is going to be here this morning. I want to see who it is.” Ambiguous as always, she turned back to the darkness and resumed her walk. 

He sighed and kept pace alongside her, finding his way without the dim fires to guide them. They both crept around the far wall of the city proper. The northern wall was lined with wheat fields, and the stalks rustled gently in the breeze.

Mina picked a spot and stared at the distant ramparts where guards patrolled at all hours of the day. “Do you think they’re keeping her safe?” she asked suddenly, pointing up. 

Mica rubbed the back of his neck and offered a noncommittal grunt. “They might think so. Wasn’t the last avatar killed? This could be stopping people from trying to sneak in and get her.”

She snorted in response. “If they wanted to, they could get around these guards. Every defense has a weakness. They are just making themselves more paranoid closing her up in an ornate box like this.” 

“Are we here to free her?” 

She snorted again, and this time it was coupled with a hint of laughter. “We are not her knights in shining armor. I have the feeling that there is another who would fit that role better than us, anyway.” Her hand lingered over her chest. 

That was his way of knowing she was reaching for the invisible threads that tied them all together. There must be one that coiled around the Goddess to protect her. 

“Then who are we waiting for?” If she couldn’t tell him why they were in Hullenscir, then perhaps this person would have another clue. 

That’s all that seemed to happen, anyway. One place to another, vague clue after vague clue. Whoever showed up would be no more help than the Benghri, he was certain of it. 

Mina squinted into the darkness, then drew back with a sharp breath. “They’re here.” 

Mica’s hand twitched in response. He had left his short bow back at the camp. All he had was the small hunting knife he kept on his person at all times. The hilt fit comfortably within the palm of his hand as he waited. 

The shadows peeled back to reveal a man as pale as bones, long white hair tied back in a braid that posed an odd mirror to Mina’s dark strands. He wore all black, or at least, the shadows clung to him in a way that only his paper-white hands and face were visible. 

At his side, Mina’s breath caught in her throat and she stumbled back even further. “You--” 

The man tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he noticed the two of them standing there. “Me?” 

“You’re him.” Her words were soft, breathless. Her eyes went as wide as saucers, and he wondered what she could see that he couldn’t. 

All he could feel was a heavy discomfort in his chest, a pain in his leg that seemed to echo up through his spine, and a sinking in his stomach. It reminded him of the time he came back from his first hunt, and the terror of staring down the snout of a boar as it towered over him clung to every inch of his limbs. 

“You’re Tursha.” 

Fear. That’s what he felt. Fear flooded his body as he stared at the strange man who could be death personified. “Blessed Churmani,” he muttered. His hands trembled at his sides. A dagger would be useless against the Devourer. 

Mina clung to Mica’s arm as he pushed her behind him. “So you do walk on Mwyr.” 

The man tilted his head to the side, lips moving as he repeated the words back to himself. “Tursha, the Demon. I see. You are the siblings from the plains, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you.” 

Useless or not, the dagger at least made him feel a bit safer. Mica shifted his grip on the hilt to something more offensive. “What do you want here?” 

He might have smiled, but it was hard to tell from the distance between them. “What I want is merely an end result. What I need is to find a way to get the Goddess to trust me.” His amber eyes flashed to the top of the wall, and his chest heaved in an oddly human sigh. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to them. “But that is a little difficult when I cannot even reach her. And when he is so close…” 

Mica longed for his short bow -- able to maintain some distance when attacking. He could always throw the knife, but it would likely be deflected before it could reach. “Why would the Goddess ever trust you?” 

“Because she knows me,” he replied with a shrug. “We have a shared history.” 

“A jealous older brother attempting to usurp her power? Yes, that is a splendid way to gain her trust.” Mina snapped from over Mica’s shoulder. “She would never trust you!”

His head tilted to the side, and once again he considered the words thrown in his direction. “Her brother… That would be one of the moons, correct? Giltine, the red moon.”

The twins exchanged an uneasy look, and Mica knew that she thought the exact same thing. “Shouldn’t you know this…?” 

He frowned, really looking at the two of them for the first time since he appeared. “I am not your god Tursha. I am like you.” 

Mica’s brow pinched, and he didn’t realize that Mina was stepping away until it was too late. “Bambvari phrei!” he hissed, reaching out for her. “What are you doing?” 

She stood halfway between them, colors as washed out as his as the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn. Her hand extended toward him, and after a slight hesitation, the man reached for her as well. “I was wrong… you’re not one of the Tiria Onori.”

“I am like you, as I said. I am not one of you.” Being cryptic apparently amused him, and a twist took over his lips. “Good luck finding him, though. Perhaps we shall unite on that front, children of the plains. You gave me something to think about.” 

Without warning, the long, pastel shadows crawled up his legs and over his body. The hand extended toward Mina vanished beneath darkness, and his image unraveled before their eyes. 

Mica swore under his breath, even though his sister stood her ground and watched the last of the shadows return to their rightful places. “What was that all about?” 

“The Benghri,” she replied, a vacant look covering her face. “I’m not entirely too sure what he meant, but it has to do with the Benghri, and why I can see us connected to the Goddess.”

He turned his attention to the tops of the parapets. No one up there even noticed their little meeting down by the fields. The guards didn’t care about what went on outside the walls. They were protecting the Goddess from whatever was already inside. 

“How are we supposed to protect her if we don’t even know what we are protecting her from…?” Mina moved back to his side, and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. 

He didn’t have an answer. She was always the one with the answers, and he had no idea how to fill that role. 

#

Arika sat hunched over a desk in a room that was far less ornate than the one she had at the Church. Plain white walls, two twin sized beds, and tacky dark green carpet. A piece of paper with a scrawled note was pinned to the surface of the table by her hand and someone else’s. 

The series of runes ended in the Goddess’ Eye. Beneath it read At the brink of death, one finds ???. 

“Þā weg tō hopa,” she said, the words flowing from her tongue with an ease she couldn’t remember. 

“The way to hope,” the young man next to her said. 

Arika turned, and her eyes settled on the pale-haired man from before. His eyes studied the words, serious and bright behind the thin rim of his glasses. “Philip.” This time, his name came far easier, and her heart jumped as he turned to look at her. 

“Yes?” 

The response she wanted to give didn’t come right away. She sat there, heat rolling off of him despite the chill of the late winter that permeated the room. A sense of nostalgia that didn’t fit in with the setting overwhelmed her, pulling her apart, and for a moment she was afraid that she would wake up and everything would be gone. 

But the moment passed and he still stood there, an annoyed tick to his eyebrow when she took too long to reply. 

In the end, when she failed to find the proper words, he turned back to the paper and reached for the dark blue journal on the other side of the table. “I still think that ‘one finds the way to hope’ makes far more sense.” His fingers flipped open the cover, and he thumbed through several pages. “Facts and figures on a page don’t exactly mean you made an entire world.” 

She found her voice, and the familiar burn of an argument flared to life in her chest. “I think we could take it literally. When I slipped and fell off that ladder, I woke up to find myself somewhere else. Let’s say Mwyr.” 

“What even makes you think that you landed there?” He warmed to the topic just as quickly as she did, shifting to lean against the edge of the table and placing one hand on the back of her chair. “It could have just been some illusion brought on by your brain. An ‘am I in heaven’ moment right before you woke up. You hit your head pretty hard, after all.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Don’t be so full of yourself. Just because you were right before--” 

“That’s just it, Philip!” She leaned forward into his space, pushing herself to her feet to use her meager height to her advantage. It meant that he didn’t have to look quite so far down his nose to see her. “I’ve been detailing this whole adventure--” He snorted at her choice of word, but she forged on anyway, reaching for the black journal sporting the university logo on the cover. “And it’s playing right into my favor. If I think something, then it has been true.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Arika--” 

“I’m being serious!” 

“So am I!” He slapped his hand against the table, and the two journals jumped at the same time she did. “You’re giving yourself too much damn credit. You have to think logically about this. Get down off your little ‘I’m God’ high horse and realize that you can’t always be right.” 

The insult stung, as much as a part of her agreed with his words. How was any of this logical in the first place? She couldn’t always be this lucky -- it would run out in the end. One couldn’t simply write up details that made a planet habitable and then expect it to be so. 

But at least she couldn’t exactly be proven wrong. Just as there was no way to prove that Mwyr did exist, there was no way to prove that it didn’t. 

And, somewhere, deep inside of her, in a way that resonated through her body, she knew that it did. If nothing else was real about these journals and that vision of hers, then at least she knew with every fiber of her being that she was right about this one thing. 

“Don’t you see?” Her voice dropped to a soft, barely audible level. She stepped closer, their feet pressed toe to toe. “Philip,” she said, and she watched the expression flicker over his face at his name. 

He refused to match her gaze, though. 

“Don’t you think that everything is happening for a reason? That if anyone else had found these, it would mean nothing. But because it is me, that I am the one doing this, that it is working?” Arika reached out and touched the cover of the dark blue journal. 

Philip’s hand moved toward hers, but not close enough to make contact. It seemed involuntary, as if he didn’t mean to. 

So she closed the distance, covering his hand with her own, and forced him to look at her. “I can create worlds.” 

Two thudding heartbeats was all that it took before he broke away from her with a derisive snort. The moment shattered, and the unease sank back into the pit of her stomach. What if he’s right. What if I am just fooling myself. 

What if I made a mistake? 

Philip gave her a look that she didn’t know how to interpret. “Just think about it,” he said, though it could have been meant for himself as much as it was for her. “Just… think about the possibilities.” 

He turned and left her standing there by the desk, suddenly so much more aware of the chill in the room without his presence. 

The slamming door woke her up. When her eyes snapped open, the ornate ceiling of the Goddess’ private chambers greeted her. 

Arika groaned as a headache flooded into the space behind her eyes. How had she gotten back to her room? 

The last thing she remembered was being surrounded by a crowd of people, everyone yelling and accusing her. Hundreds of hands -- reaching for her, grabbing her hair, pulling the magic straight out of her body by touch alone. 

She rolled over on her side, and a cloth slipped from her forehead onto the mattress. 

“You’re awake. I was beginning to worry.” 

A crick in her neck made it difficult to look at the source of the voice. There were only a few candles lit on the opposite end of the room atop her dresser. “Taen…?”

The blind prince offered a small smile and tilted his head in her direction. “I am honored that you remember me, Lady.”

“One doesn’t often forget a prince.” 

The smile broadened, and he rose from the low chair he had been sitting in. “I was hesitant to wake you. Did you have a good dream?” 

A flush washed over her body, though she wasn’t too sure of its source. “I don’t know.” She pulled the cloth from where it draped halfway over her shoulder and folded it into a neat little square. 

A shallow bowl filled with water rested on the table next to her bed, and she draped it over the lip. “Did I have a fever…?” 

The corners of his mouth tightened, and she wondered what sort of expression his brows were making beneath the cloth bandages. “You used a lot of your power today, Lady. I’m not certain if going out on your own was a wise idea.” 

Anger replaced the embarrassment, and a swirl of magic circled through her fingers. “If I had been on my own or not, it was something I needed to do. They are angry with me, Taen. They need to know that their Goddess has not abandoned them.” 

“But at what cost, Lady?” He ducked his head as soon as the words left his mouth. “Forgive me, I spoke out of turn. But know that I am glad you are well.” 

Before she could get the chance to figure out what he meant, he scooped up the bowl and held it against his chest. As if it could shield him from her inquiries. “You should let the others know that you are feeling better.” 

“Others…?” 

His only reply was a slight nod and the hint of a smile. “I will leave you so that you can get dressed.” 

She waited until the door to her room slipped shut, and she finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Somehow, after passing out, someone carried back and dressed in her nightgown. The pins in her hair had been removed, and the dark brown locks brushed over her shoulders. 

Still unfamiliar with the requirements that came with the fancy dresses, Arika searched through the wardrobe until she found a dark blue robe and pulled it on over the white shift. She shoved her feet into white slippers and took a moment to study herself in the mirror above her dresser. 

A young woman she couldn’t quite recognize stared back. Her shoulders were straight, and her head held high. She looked far more confident than she actually felt. A sense of pride stirred inside her chest and brought a brief smile to her face. 

She had walked among the people of Hullenscir, and she had felt the memories inside of her line up. Everything aligned. For once, she knew that she could believe in the idea of her being the Goddess as well. 

Muffled voices worked their way through the door separated her bedroom from the rest of the rooms. When she pulled open the door, Cairo’s voice carried down the dark hall. 

“The outcome does not matter. It was something that she needed to do -- for herself, as much as the people of Hullenscir.” He was talking about her little foray into the city. Perhaps it was to the Deacon, come to scold him for not taking care of her properly. 

Arika drew herself up to her full height, hoping that she exuded a Goddess-y aura to make up for the lack of inches, and stepped into the main room. “It was my idea. Don’t blame him--” 

Cairo glanced back at her, the annoyed frown twitching into something that resembled relief.

But the other figure, perched on the edge of the couch and looking like he might bolt at any second, was not Deacon Paol.

Her breath caught in her throat as Sera jerked to his feet. Wide, tawny eyes met hers, and his mouth dropped open a bit with a half-formed word falling from his mouth. “So I did hear you out there…”

A slight, strangled noise left him as they stood across the room from one another.

And then at the same time, they moved toward one another.

They met in the middle, his hands grasping hers and laughter tumbling from both of them as he pressed her fingers to his lips. Arika wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a fierce hug. 

“I’m sorry I left without a proper goodbye.” She pressed her forehead to his chest as his arms curled around her. His heartbeat rose to meet her touch. “I should have known.” 

His laughter filled her with a sense of warmth that she hadn’t realized she had been missing. “You should have. Since when did I ever like to do what I’m told?” 

It took a long time for her to be able to pull herself away. A part of her still clung to him, his familiar warmth, remembering someone else that was no longer there. “I’ve missed you.” 

Sera’s hand hovered next to the side of her head, not quite wanting to touch -- even though his other hand curled around the back of her head and neck. “I didn’t think I would get to see you again. Or if I did, it would just be as part of a crowd. And yet, here you are.” 

“Here I am,” she echoed and pulled him in for another hug. 

Behind them, a cough echoed through their personal little bubble and they jerked apart. Cairo lifted an eyebrow, though the rest of his expression remained blank. “I’m not too sure it’s a wise idea to get so familiar with the Goddess.” 

Sera’s touch sprang away from, and an embarrassed flush took over the swell of his cheeks. “Sorry,” he said to Cairo, then turned to her. “Sorry. I just… It’s good to see you again.” 

“It’s fine.” Arika waved off the concern. “I’m glad you’re here. Truly, Sera.” When she took his hand, it felt more like the Goddess reaching out to thank one of her supplicants. She didn’t know if that was a good thing. “Will you be staying in Hullenscir?” 

“As long as I can.” The familiar crooked grin formed on his lips. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed that -- missed him -- until that moment. “I’m pretending to be Lord Taen’s valet for the time being.” 

As if summoned by his name, Taen stepped out of one of the halls with a dark skinned woman dressed in servant’s garb following behind him. “It was the only excuse I could think of while traveling. I did not think that they would allow just anyone into the city. Especially someone claiming to know the Goddess personally.” 

Sera frowned, and his shoulders moved in a heavy sigh. “It worked either way. And it looked like we arrived just in time.” His gaze slid back to Arika, and he squeezed the hand that still gripped his. “Do you know what happened back there?” 

“She lost control of her powers.” Cairo crossed his arms over his chest but otherwise remained unimpressed. “Too many people approaching her at once, and they demanded something of her. You need to be more careful, my Lady.” 

“I know--”

“This is serious, Arika.” Sera’s voice brought her attention back to him. 

The flip that her stomach did was far more unsettling than excited. “What do you mean?” 

His expression pleaded with her, asking her to understand so he wouldn’t have to explain. It was that look that told her it was something to do with Tallah, and her skin began to crawl with the thought. 

Just after she thought she could become comfortable with her body, and the version of her that inhabited it. 

Arika didn’t even notice that her hands strayed to her arms, skin crawling, until Sera gently pulled them away. “What don’t I know?” 

He sat her down, still unable to figure out his words. He glanced to the two others for help and she hated the idea that even he knew and never told her. How long had he known?

Taen spoke up to break the awkward silence. “I know I’ve told you that I can see you, bright as the sun. It’s a reflection of your powers. I believe by now you have started to realize the limitlessness of them, haven’t you?” 

She closed her eyes and stretched out the invisible fingers of her magic. It swirled to life at the thought, far easier now than four weeks before when she and Cairo left Wellfox. It was like Sera had told her -- she felt like she could move mountains if she wanted to. 

He must have sensed her testing her abilities. He held out a hand to the woman at his side and she guided him over to the couches where Arika sat. “As you are aware, you use a body that has already died to inhabit. That gives you a limited amount of time. Even your powers aren’t enough to keep it working for an extended amount of time. Eventually, you will start to burn through that body, ” 

The uneasy chill that had lurked just out of reach finally draped itself over her shoulders. She shivered, hands straining against Sera’s grip. Her fingers clenched and unclenched, trying to find purchase on her skin and claw at the slimy sensation that coated her arms, her chest, her face--

Sera’s hands shifted to her head, and he forced her to look at him. “Arika.” He brushed his hand back through her loose hair, smoothing it away from where it clung to her forehead or her neck. 

When did she start feeling dizzy again? His touch soothed the churning in her stomach and the invisible hands crawling on her arms. For a moment, she remembered someone else, long and slender fingers cool against her burning skin. 

Her hands fell limp in her lap. An exhaustion born of regret spanning back four lifetimes settled deep into her bones. “So the reason they never let her walk among the people…” Inside her, the other avatars spoke of time behind stone walls and guarded walks. Not allowed to see anyone not appointed by the Church. 

Not able to help the people who truly needed her. 

“You felt what happened to you when you fainted. They were pulling the power straight from you by touch alone.” Taen reached out for her, his hand landing on the cushion alongside her knee. 

Sera maintained his grip on the sides of her face to keep her grounded, so Arika took Taen’s hand in her own. “Then am I supposed to just go along with it? Existing until I ruin this body a second time?” 

The three avatars went quiet, and Arika felt her heart ache for the young man that stood awkwardly before her in clothes that did not fit. Vida… 

She nearly missed the way that Sera looked away, or that Taen shifted uncomfortably. Betrayed, Selphie whispered, remembering. I’ve been betrayed. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” 

Sera opened his mouth, eyes pleading with her to understand, but Cairo cut in before he could get the chance. “Someone killed her before she could succumb to the fever.”

A flood of emotions drowned out the rest of the world -- the others didn’t know. Selphie knew, Vida had told her, begging for her forgiveness, but the others didn’t know. Rosalyn had been an accident in the Church’s eyes. A group that did not believe she was the real Goddess, that her words and prayers were nothing but lies. Henna almost died from the fever. The Church considered sanctioning her death a mercy killing. 

But Selphie was supposed to be a sacrifice. Do you know what happened the last time the Goddess visited Mwyr? Vida was the one sent to kill her, but then the unexpected happened. She fell in love. 

So they were both killed.

She couldn’t remember how to breathe. Her vision swam before her with flashes of the lives that were once hers. 

The next thing she knew, she was lying on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lungs heaved, struggling to pull in as much air as possible. 

Sera crouched over her, repeating her name. His eyes were wide and afraid, though a tinge of guilt hid in their bright depths. 

Behind him, Taen spoke to the dark skinned woman. His words floated down to her in a haze. Steren, fetch her maids. We cannot let the Deacon know--

Arika didn’t even notice that words were coming out of her mouth until Sera waved a hand to hush the others. They tumbled from her lips in a constant stream, and like the tears, they weren’t hers alone. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to--” 

Sera gathered her into his arms. She could feel herself trembling, despite his warmth and comfort. His hands tightened against her as her sobs continued. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want it hanging over your head. I won’t let it happen. I won’t, Arika. We will make sure that nothing happens to you.” 

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. Her breathing settled, and her heartbeat slowed. But a part of her, older than the rest, older than the original, still didn’t believe.