Eira took out a piece of paper and a charcoal stick from an inside pocket of her tunic and drew me a rudimentary map of the area. “This is the prison,” she said, pointing the charcoal tip at her raw doodle. “You go right down this road, then take a left turn. You take another left turn, and, at the end of the street, you’ll see the library. It’s where we keep all our Hermessi worship records. Parchments, journals, printed tales, and so on. You’ll need to sneak into the third level, in the Perissacius Wing. There are signs inside that will take you to it. Just follow the cross-shaped symbols.”
I nodded and stuffed the piece of paper in my pocket. “You two look out for each other. I’ll see you later.”
I didn’t follow the directions precisely, but I did use the markers—the street corners I needed to get to in order to reach this library. I teleported myself out of the prison first, then worked my way uptown until I stood in front of my destination.
The library was a superb building, on six levels and with a modular roof, each section facing a different part of the city. Small towers rose from the middle, round and made of reddish bricks. The windows were all wide and made of stained glass. There were plenty of Cerixians around, but, with my hood on, they didn’t pay much attention to me.
Careful not to be spotted by any of the soldiers patrolling these streets, I thinned myself into an almost invisible state by one of the decorative trees, before teleporting myself onto the third level, inside the library. The interior was even more beautiful, with books lining every single wall and partition, from top to bottom. They were all neatly labeled and categorized.
It didn’t take long for me to spot the cross sign. I stuck to the shadowy parts of the library, moving around when there were no Cerixians nearby. It was a quiet place, and my boots were muffled by the thick, scarlet-colored carpet.
By the time I reached the Hermessi archives section, my heart was filled with hope. It was a dangerous feeling to have, but, as I repeatedly switched between looking over my shoulder and flipping through various ancient books, I was thankful to experience it. It fired adrenaline through my veins, as I felt one step closer to finding out the truth about the Hermessi.
The fifth book I was about to peruse had the stylized flames embedded into its leather-bound cover. This had to be about the Fire Hermessi. My logic rarely failed me on this stuff.
The name “Brann” occupied the first page, written in black ink. The characters were artfully executed, with elegant swirls. I ran my fingers over it. My breath hitched, as fire seemed to spread through my hand, then up my arm. It burned—and I’d never experienced such a sharp sensation before.
I stepped back but couldn’t shake it off.
Everything went black.
I was weightless. A mere particle drifting through the nothingness. A spark in the middle of the cosmos. I was a star, burning brightly across an entire galaxy. I was a chunk of pink stone, left wandering on the wings of stardust.
I was everything. I was nothing.
Looking down, I tried to come to my senses. But there was no body for me to see. Whatever this was, it went beyond the physical plane. I’d left reality behind, for sure. There was no point in panicking. My brain had already stored memories of Vesta’s accounts, of her experiences when she reached out to the Hermessi. This was eerily similar, so I decided to focus on what I was about to see.
I figured this was merely the beginning of a very strange journey.
Indeed, moments later, I looked down again and saw my fiery limbs. But I wasn’t floating about in space anymore. I was on solid ground. Before me, the world of Cerix rose proudly. I recognized the architecture, the manicured trees, and the flying ships they called bombardiers. This wasn’t Silvergate, though. The towers were slightly different, slimmer and pointier than what I’d seen. And the masonry wasn’t red, but rather sandy.
This was another domain, I realized.
As I walked across a seemingly endless green field, I saw a Cerixian male headed toward me. He was confused by my presence there, but not scared. No, he was… surprised. He said something, but I couldn’t hear him. He kneeled before me, his rich auburn head bowed in reverence. I saw my burning arm reach out.
I touched his face, but it didn’t burn him. It didn’t leave a mark.
I felt the longing and the anguish—not his, but mine. I was reliving someone’s experiences. Brann. The name made more sense now than ever. Brann. The Fire Hermessi of Cerix. I was him. I was Brann!
A second passed, and the Cerixian man smiled at me, then nodded. We became one. I entered his body and brought my hands up. Five fingers. Skin, flesh, and bones. My veins glowed amber underneath, but I knew what this was. A possession. I was using this Cerixian man as my conduit. I was on a mission. My heart was pounding.
The world warped around me. I lay in bed, in semi-darkness. The most beautiful creature was in my arms, naked and loving as she covered my face with kisses. She, too, said something, but I couldn’t hear her. I was too preoccupied with claiming her, with loving her until the end of time. She welcomed me, and we swayed like trees in the wind. Our bodies merged. We were one.
It felt right.
I raised my head so I could lose myself in her deep brown eyes.
Oh, crap…
She seemed familiar. Too familiar. The brown eyes. The bright red hair. The petite figure and porcelain skin… God, she felt amazing under my touch. But this wasn’t me. This was Brann, the Fire Hermessi of Cerix. And she was… she was Inalia’s mother.
Holy mother of…
I knew then what I was witnessing.
I fell backward and hit the floor with an unpleasant thud. I’d been cast back into reality, surrounded by old books and wooden shelves. Sunlight breached through the multicolored windows, warming me up.
Panting, I took a moment to gather myself and my thoughts from the floor.
I’d just been sent a vision. The Fire Hermessi of Cerix had reached out to me. Brann. He’d shown me a snippet of the past. Of the day he and a Cerixian woman conceived Inalia. A Hermessi child.
Eira was right, and it made sense. This was friggin’ unbelievable and mindboggling and every other superlative available to describe the magnitude of this discovery. The Hermessi could conceive, if they occupied a willing body. Their offspring were gifted, like Inalia. Like Eira. I wondered… was that how the fae had first come to be? From Hermessi children?
Raphael
Amelia’s natural scent was pummeling my senses into oblivion. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate while I sat so close to her—and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to move away from her. I also enjoyed pushing her buttons. Maybe a little more than I should’ve. But I simply enjoyed watching her blush. I couldn’t get enough of those rosy cheeks and pouting, perfectly plump lips.
When Taeral reappeared in the middle of the cell, I gasped.
A full-on, ladylike gasp. I’d been so fixated, so obnoxiously fixated on Amelia, that Taeral’s sudden presence had caught me unprepared. Herakles stifled a chuckle, and I shot him the kind of glare that promised him a world of pain if he dared to follow up on my reaction. My face burned.
But no one else seemed to notice. Not even Amelia. Thank the stars.
“Boy, have I got some news for you!” Taeral exclaimed.
“Where were you?” Varga asked.
We all gathered around Taeral as he relayed the conversation he had with Eira and Inalia, including the initial part about them being Hermessi children. Needless to say, we were all stunned.
