Page 70 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame (Fated for Hael #1)

Once Luminaux’s army vanished into the distant Wilds, Cahra surveyed the gate to the capital of Hael’stromia; her capital, it seemed. Opening soon to every kingdom, every person in their long-surviving realm.

What do I do now?

She glanced to Wyldaern. The look on the Seer’s face – the Oraculine’s face – seemed to be asking the same thing. Wyldaern rubbed her eyes, no longer peridot, but the amethyst of a High Oracle of the Order of Descry.

Cahra reached out gently for Wyldaern’s slender arm and asked her, ‘Are you all right?’

She knew it was a stupid question, but it was a quiet acknowledgement of their shared pain.

Wyldaern had lost Thelaema today, her mentor, as Cahra had lost hers in Lumsden.

That loss, they would carry with them. Hael had retrieved Lumsden’s body, and though the customary rites awaited, it was a task for another day. When hearts and minds felt steadier.

Wyldaern faced the dark city. ‘There is much to do. Much to think on.’

Cahra’s gaze flickered beyond the gate to Hael’stromia’s sands, barren as they were. She knew gardening would be the least of her problems.

‘Yes,’ she admitted.

‘Then, we begin.’ Hael strode to the gate, twirling Cahra’s great-hammer in the air. She eyed the vast pack of skeletal Nether-hounds trailing behind him.

‘Really? Well, while I appreciate the enthusiasm, how are the three of us supposed to clean up the capital for a party? Including the pyramid’s hallways,’ Cahra added, shuddering at the idea of carting the dead from the temple; or maybe it was those hounds.

‘Perhaps we can request aid from the kingdoms?’ Wyldaern suggested.

Hael was silent, a playful tilt to his lips.

‘What is it?’ Cahra asked him. His inky hair and coat were so striking in the daylight against the luminous skin of his face and chest.

‘There is less to be done than you think. Yet there is much for us to discuss,’ he said, reaching the gate. He gestured for her to go first.

From the corner of her eye, Cahra noticed Wyldaern watching them, her gaze distant. There was a tightness around her eyes, a stiffness in her stance that had not been there before. Unease gnawed at the edges of Cahra’s happiness, a worry she couldn’t name.

Brow furrowed, she took a step. ‘Okay, but I don’t really understand—’

The words died in Cahra’s throat as Hael glided from behind her and, together, they crossed the capital’s threshold.

And the world around them began to bloom.

With each step Hael took, seedlings sprouted and flowers grew from the desert sands in exotic shades of flaming red and orange, jewel-like blue and purple.

The ground pulsated, returning to life, all because of him.

She watched the spectacle in awe as Hael kept walking, the habitat reacting to him passing, trees and shrubs shooting from the ground to thrive anew in shimmering shades of black, gold, copper and richest brown.

In minutes, the capital had transformed from a barren wasteland of sand and stone to an idyllic oasis, a sanctuary, the city’s black buildings that had lain empty but intact for years erect and proudly polished, resplendent in the sun’s embrace.

The capital had become a different place.

Hael had breathed life into Hael’stromia again.

Looking out over the expanse of her new city, Cahra felt a sort of vertigo, like she’d stepped off a cliff’s edge and was free-falling into the unknown.

Was this really her life now? She was no Thierre, born and bred for royal rule.

She was just Cahra, a girl from Kolyath and a village in the Wilds, who’d somehow found herself carrying the weight of an empire.

A girl who had wielded extraordinary dark magicks, and felt their absence keenly.

She couldn’t shake the shadow of longing that coiled itself inside her as she gazed out at the wondrous vista unfolding before her very eyes.

For a fleeting moment, Hael’s powers had been hers to command, a dark and supreme force that had given her a taste of something she’d never known before: power, not to mention near-invincibility.

But now that she was Empress, the prophecy fulfilled, she was expected to just relinquish that strength.

Cahra was meant to be grateful, to entrust Hael to protect her in his role as champion.

To accept her human vulnerability, her human helplessness.

Except… Cahra was tired of being helpless.

But these were thoughts for another time. There was so much to do, and she had to focus on the path ahead, magick or no magick. Cahra took Hael’s hand.

He watched her carefully, as if the flames in his eyes sought the source of her tension. Finally, Hael said softly, ‘Is this to your liking?’

Cahra dragged her gaze with effort from the dark paradise awaiting her to settle on the wine-red of Hael’s billowing flames.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she breathed in astonishment, in spite of the thoughts that swirled inside her. ‘How did you…?’

Hael picked a tiny bud from the prickly shrub at Cahra’s feet. Placing it in her cupped hand, he touched it, watching as one by one the petals unfurled, shimmering, opening to reveal a ruby-red rose blossoming in the centre of Cahra’s outstretched palm.

Hael retracted his hand and she looked up at him.

‘You were right, to say that I was more than simply the weapon. Legend knows me as such, a creature of destruction, yet my Nether-magicks are also born of creation. They are the dual aspects of life,’ Hael said.

‘This is your seat of power, now, Cahra.’ He gestured to the glorious capital around them.

‘I can shape it to whatever you may wish.’

She gazed around, taking it all in. ‘I love it. Exactly as it stands.’

Love .

She remembered her bizarre conversation with the figure on the River Tenebri.

Before, love was a word that had never carried any real meaning for Cahra.

She’d never been in love, or been loved that way, not until she left Kolyath.

Even her feelings for Thierre had been infatuation more than anything else, she’d come to understand.

While he’d been the first to show her attention, affection, maybe even something deeper, it had not meant the Prince was the one for her.

It just meant he’d been the first. Not good, not bad, just first.

But first hadn’t been enough. Not once she’d realised how little she knew of Thierre, of his whole self when it came to trust and love.

Somewhere along the way, she’d known she needed more, from whoever might occupy her heart, if one day at all.

Someone who could, would, not just see all of her, but share the same things.

Someone who wouldn’t keep secrets. Someone Cahra could be herself with, and simply be.

She’d once seen herself as someone who hid and ran.

After all, it had been her life. But with Thierre, she’d opened up.

She’d dared to step up and trust someone.

Now, she craved someone who would bare themselves to her in kind.

Someone brave enough to try. Someone she could not only love, but also respect.

Was Hael it?

She stopped looking at the lovely landscape and gazed up at him, smiling. They had time, she thought, to find out.

Then Cahra asked, ‘Hael, who is Andruit?’

Hael paused, his face giving away nothing.

‘That is a name that I have not heard in a tremendously long time. A name that belongs to a life past, to a human man who once was and, I suppose, in some ways, still is now. A name that belongs to a long, complicated story. However, I will tell you about it, later… if you like.’

Cahra’s smile widened. ‘I would, very much,’ she said. Then she turned to Wyldaern. ‘So you and I have new jobs now.’

‘We do,’ Wyldaern granted, softly.

‘I was thinking… maybe we could both learn together?’ Cahra blew out a breath. ‘Because honestly? I’m going to need all the help I can get.’

‘I would appreciate that,’ Wyldaern said in earnest. ‘Thelaema left so quickly, and her memories – there is a lot of history to sort through.’ The Oracle glanced to Hael.

‘There is a lot of history I’d like to change,’ Cahra replied, frowning. ‘Scions to improve on. An Oracularus whose actions cannot be allowed to happen again.’

‘Well, I, for one, am certainly not about to misappropriate the Reliquus’ magicks, of that you can be assured.’ Wyldaern inclined to Cahra. ‘You have my oath, I swear it.’

‘This time will be different. That’s what I can swear,’ Cahra told her. ‘For me, that’s no bowing, no curtseying, from either of you. Never from you, and never to me.’

‘I…’ Wyldaern looked at Hael, as he nodded. ‘As you wish,’ she said.

‘Good.’ Cahra paced a few steps. ‘And no titles, no—’

Wyldaern laughed, taking her arm. ‘As Hael said, there is much for us to discuss.’ The Oracle stilled then, staring up at Hael’stromia’s pyramid, the palatial temple.

Their new home, the three of them: Empress, Oraculine and Reliquus.

Cahra looked at Hael, the immortal weapon, whose life was inexplicably bound to hers; then at Wyldaern, her Seer friend who’d walked alongside her through trials and triumphs alike.

Cahra wasn’t alone. They would face any challenges as they had today.

Cahra smiled. ‘Then let us begin.’

And with that, Cahra, Wyldaern and Hael continued onwards through Hael’stromia to forge a new path, a new era. A new alliance. Together.