But first: “Why would I have to go to Eminence?”
“A fire resides in you, child. A fire that will need further stoking. A day of reckoning is nearly upon us. You are the blood of Nightingale, the first of us. Of the First Wife. That is why I’ve come to you now. The time is no other than when you are needed.”
The first of us? “I don’t want it.”
“Regardless, you have the blood in you. Chosen you’ve been.” He motioned toward the bangle on her wrist. “The Eye has sought you out. The first in half a millennium to be chosen.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The worlds of Life and Death are not meant to be understood by us mortals. Only the Divines.” Canlon leaned toward her, mass of white hair flowing in the rippling dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream. “You are special, child of Nightingale. Always have been. You refuse to be cowed and caged by the truth.” There was pure masculinity in the Last Godsking’s languid pose, it was very animalistic, pure and serene. Grace and holiness. “The mist that has spawned from my failure is growing stronger. I can see it within you. Aether fights inside of you, begging for release.”
With that, Ashe coughed. Her fingers were wet with blood as she touched her mouth. Real in the mirror world of the Meadows. “But… how? Are you?”
Canlon lifted his hand and a tendril of the mist curled around his open fingers. The diamond crystal upon his neck flashed. “This poison is the price. You must beware. The Divines have marked you of Eminence, as Godsblood. And potentially so much more. A seed may yet still grow from a prophecy passed down since my fall.”
“Prophecy? I don’t believe in prophecy.”
“And wise you are to not, for prophecy is not meant to be understood by the faint of heart. You are about to enter a world unknown to all but a few. Your blood is powerful, bound in truth, bound in secrecy.”
“I don’t want this.” Ashe balled her hands into fists as she looked at the runes inked upon her arm. “I never did. If I could give it up, I would’ve long ago.”
“Not all which we want can be given. It has to be, child of Nightingale. You were born to this fate. The mist is your element, don’t shy from it. Duty is all we must know. It is all I knew.”
“I’m not a fucking child!” The anger building inside her. The mist from the Meadows grew surly. “That part of me has been forever burned away.”
“And why do you think I chose now to come to you? I tried to hide you for as long as possible. To shield you from those who’d use you elsewise. But with you crossing the threshold of both Life and Death, you’ve opened yourself to the Fallen. The Seals will call to you now.”
A coil of anger rising. Too many unanswered questions. O Zenith, the anger was raging. She wanted to scream something primordial.
“A child you aren’t any longer,” Canlon continued, “this is true, but you’ve got a path to tread now. Taking a life and sending a soul to the void has spurred your gift into full force. But you’ve also given into the designs of the flesh, of creation.”
“You mean Wren?”
A nod. “You’ve played with the aether in the mist like a child who sticks their hand in the fire knowing naught of the consequences. The mist is not to be trifled with.”
Another cough. “The mist is killing me already. I won’t last much longer.”
“Until you learn to master the mist, to truly dominate everything within its aether, it will kill you. Master it and it will be your weapon. Harness it, be it, and it will serve you. That is true Soul Form.”
The mist gurgled, almost like a feline purring when rubbed. Her father’s words, as well. How?
“I’ve had visions. The mist showed me a throne dripping blood. A polished sword. War.”
“Beware of what you think you know. Especially about the Pentax. What you’ve seen is the aether showing you your fate. One possible fate. Destiny has bound you to Eminence. You must go there. Be wary. A face in the crowd may not be the face you expect. Not all faces are real. Even the ones you wish to be true. Not all visions will come to pass.” Canlon shifted, his body began to scintillate, becoming tiffany.
“Zenith’s cock…”
“Only you can reopen Eminence. All others have been false. You have been deemed worthy by the Divines to rebirth the Crystal and use the Hymn of Soul to finish what I started with Zenith… Three trials await you. One of heart, one of body and mind, and finally, one of soul. A price to be paid for each. Four Seals to Eminence. Godslayer you must become. Lu Har seeks to break the Seals and plunge the world of Life into Nocturne’s Pit. The Mistlands that was, the Mistlands that is, the Mistlands that might be will forever fall into the depths of the void if Eminence is not revived. It is the only way to become all once more.”
“I don’t want to slay any gods,” Ashe said. “There must be others.”
“You can, child of Nightingale. You must. The Fallen, he comes. Soon.” Canlon’s gaze drifted. “Yes. Tonight it’ll be. They will hunt you now that you’ve crossed the threshold. It was the only thing veiling you from them.”
“Tonight? Bugger me.”
Canlon gestured to the bangle on Ashe’s wrist. “It seeks the Seals. It seeks its sight.” He lifted the diamond eye at his neck. “Go. Seek me in Eminence. The door has now been opened for you to walk through. The journey you were born for.”
“Wait, you still live?”
The Meadows shimmered, pulsed, agitated, and quailed. Ashe called out, reached for the Last Godsking, but the darkness, the shadows grew. Canlon Carr disappeared.
XXX
Emre
THOUGHTS WANDERED THROUGH Emre’s mind aimlessly like a listless summertide breeze off the VVyrm Ocean as the gondola rose toward Gargantua.
Val’s head lay upon his shoulder, veil askew, her breathing shallow. Napping. Emre was equally exhausted but the adrenaline in his veins wouldn’t allow him to doze. The convergence of all his plans lay ahead, and yet, he wasn’t prepared.
O Cad, I should have protected you better.
The Cadrianna he’d married had been a sweet, if not slightly shy, young woman who was quick with a quip but just as quick with a lash of anger if crossed. He had loved her from their first meeting.
The Cadrianna they’d captured was not the same woman; as hurt, anger, sorrow, zealousness, pain, aloofness were specters around her. A territorial spark of aggression swallowed under a sea of suffering.
He couldn’t help but bear the brunt of it all.
