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Chapter nine

Seraphina

O f course, the very next day would be a petition day. She hated petitions.

They were a monthly duty. Utterly tedious. And they made Seraphina feel as though she and her chief councilors were exotic beasts in a menagerie, seated atop the dais.

But they were necessary all the same.

Still, the air within the throne room was stifling. Every inch of the vaulted chamber was packed with courtiers and commoners alike—anyone at all who could have weaseled their way inside for a glimpse at their queen. Velvet ropes segregated the two groups, with the noble-born crowding the front of the room and the common-born crammed into the back.

She spied several children perched upon shoulders, craning wide-eyed looks at her from the far side of the room. She tried to conjure up a smile for them whenever her attention drifted that way, but she was sure all her smiles looked as strained as they felt on her lips.

She had barely slept the night before.

Tiberius’s proposal still stained her thoughts.

Broad swaths of sunlight spilled in through the stained glass windows at her back, leaving her and the throne illuminated in a halo of colorful hues. No doubt it was an awe-inspiring sight, as her ancestors had intended.

But for the one actually sitting the throne, it was a fairly miserable affair. The warmth of the sunlight scorched the back of her neck, and sweat pooled uncomfortably beneath her corset. Already, she had been sitting there for some hours, passing judgment on the various civil disputes brought before her.

And still, the petitioners came.

“How many more are waiting to be seen today?” Seraphina asked under her breath. She flashed sidelong glances toward both Father Perero seated at her left and Duke Percival seated at her right.

At their feet lounged Rogue and Alyx in a pile of fur and scales; at least their pets were enjoying the warmth of the day. They soaked in a pool of sunlight.

Seraphina counted the moments until she could whisk herself away and return to the cooler dimness of her private quarters. She still needed to prepare for her private dinner with the Ambassador of Drakmor, Lord Ezzo, later that evening .

The very thought of her pending meeting saw her gaze flitting of its own accord toward Lord Tiberius where he stood near Sir Tristan, Duchess Edith, and all the rest of her court. But the moment their eyes locked, she swiftly looked away.

She wouldn’t have an answer for him until after her meeting with the ambassador.

Duke Percival sighed. “I believe we have five more petitioners left, Your Majesty.”

She pursed her lips. “Are any of their grievances a matter of life and death?”

It was Father Perero who answered with an observation of, “Though their grievances may seem of little importance to us, Your Majesty, we should remember that those grievances can certainly seem like a matter of life or death to the ones living them.”

Now it was her turn to sigh. Father Perero had a point.

But if she had to listen to one more farmer try to convince her he owned his neighbor’s cow simply because the cow in question had been grazing off of his pasture through the fence, she might very well go mad.

“We will see the ones who journeyed the furthest,” Seraphina decreed to the two men. “Anyone still waiting to be seen who lives within Goldreach can wait until next month.”

Duke Percival was quick to lift a hand and announce to the nearest herald, “Her Majesty will hear only those petitioners who have journeyed the furthest. The rest will be seen at a later date.”

No sooner had such words departed her godfather’s lips, though, than there was a commotion outside the great doors leading into the throne room. At the sound, Alyx lifted her head from where she lounged atop Rogue and looked that way. After a moment’s pause, the usuru took to the air with an excited chirp.

Frowning, Seraphina craned her neck and tried to catch a glimpse of what all the fuss was about. From her current vantage, all she could see were several of her guards in animated discussion with another of the court heralds posted by the door.

“What is it?” she asked both Duke Percival and Father Perero, though they were surely just as much in the dark as she was. “What’s happening?”

“I know not,” Father Perero murmured.

But Duke Percival called out on her behalf, “What is going on?” as the herald posted by the door began forcing his way through the crowd.

The herald paused and bobbed into a low bow. With his head lowered, he gestured wildly toward the doors and called back, “Begging your pardon, my Lord Chancellor. But there’s…it’s…”

“Out with it, man,” Duke Percival snapped.

The excited murmurs ghosting about the edges of the chamber rose to a fever pitch, leaving the herald having to shout, “It’s an Oracle , my Lord Chancellor. Here to see Her Majesty.”

At her side, Father Perero jolted to his feet. His eyes desperately searched the open doors of the throne room. “An Oracle?” he whispered. “Bless my stars. An Oracle? Here?”

Seraphina barely dared to breathe. An Oracle? Truly? An Oracle there to see… her ?

“Please,” she called back to the herald, not bothering to wait for Duke Percival to shout on her behalf, as would have been proper. “Please, show her in.” As the chatter within the throne room swelled to a roar once more, Seraphina pushed herself to her feet and all but screamed to be heard over the noise, “We will see her.”

An Oracle. Never had she been so blessed as to see an Oracle in the flesh. They were so very rare, and growing rarer by the generation.

Only three remained in all of Avirel. And yet, one of those rare and extraordinary women had journeyed all that way. Just to see her.

Seraphina trembled while she awaited her first glimpse of one of the Lord’s chosen.

Both royal heralds frantically rapped the floor with their staves, calling for order with the thud of wood on stone. Finally, a tense hush fell over the throne room.

The melodious tinkling of bells shimmered through that silence as a figure swathed in white and gold appeared in the doorway, flanked by seven men armored in crimson, with the golden sun of the Lord painted upon their breastplates. Three walked on her left and three walked on her right.

Her seventh Redguard walked in front of her, always a few steps ahead, as was custom.

Her Shield, Seraphina eagerly recalled from the Chronicles of Raena —the account of the first Oracle ever born, as documented within the Scriptures .

So many Chronicles had been lost during the dark days of the Sundering, when Avirel had stood on the brink of destruction by the hands of the Enemy himself.

But Raena’s had survived.

Draped head to toe in gossamer veils with only her eyes visible to the world, the Oracle glided through the throne room like a gilded wraith. The many bells encircling her wrists and ankles punctuated her every step with their song. Small of stature, she would have been easily lost within the pack of red-clad men were her Shield not just as short as she.

But despite the Oracle’s lack of imposing height, there was still something about her, something that drew Seraphina’s eye and stole her breath.

Something… more .

The march of booted feet and the whisper of tinkling bells ceased in unison when the Oracle and her Redguard paused before the dais. But while the Oracle’s Shield immediately dropped to his knees, the other six men took a single step backward to leave the prophetess and her seventh guardsman alone before the throne.

Seraphina looked on with wide eyes, absolutely mesmerized as the Oracle sank to her knees in turn amidst a further shushing of her many bells. The other woman was grace personified, although absolutely nothing of her form was visible beyond a glimpse of her eyes where one veil ended and another began.

But her eyes in and of themselves were undeniably breathtaking. As bright and pure as moonlight, they shone with all the brilliance of the finest Elmorian silver .

“Oracle Tsukiko, the Star of the East,” the Shield announced, his voice echoing from within the confines of the helmet still atop his head, “presents herself before Her Majesty Queen Seraphina, the First of Her Name. She brings well wishes from the Holy Lothmeeran Empire and hopes Her Majesty is in good health and high spirits.”

Tsukiko? Seraphina recognized the name. Tsukiko, the Star of the East, was the only Kunishi Oracle ever to have been born within the recorded history of Avirel.

She was the only Oracle born to Seraphina’s own generation, in fact.

Never had a child of Kuni set foot upon Elmorian soil. But now, Seraphina could see they were being honored with not just one child of Kuni but two, when the Oracle’s Shield removed his helmet to reveal that he bore the telltale bronzed complexion and canted eyes of a Kunishi himself.

But he had no clan tattoo on his cheek.

A great murmuring erupted within the throne room again, curiosity and excitement buzzing together into a singular hum that threatened to swallow all other sound.

Even Seraphina herself felt ready to burst from the sheer enormity of the questions she wished to ask them both. Aside from the obvious question of just why they were there within her court at all, there were so many other things she had always longed to know about the mysterious little kingdom of Kuni that was nestled so perfectly in between the much larger nations of Drakmor and Lothmeer.

Was it true all Kunishi children could ride a horse by the time they were four? Was it true some Kunishi were even born with the innate gift to speak with animals? Was it true all of Kuni—men, women, and children—were taught the ways of the warrior from the moment they could walk?

Her curiosity threatened to get the better of her, a desire to know burning upon her tongue. And yet her silence stretched and yawned into something awkward and lingering. She stood there, still struggling to grasp the reality of the situation: there was an Oracle kneeling before her.

Swallowing all her many questions, Seraphina left them unvoiced as she sank back into her place upon the throne. Father Perero remained standing, though, as if now frozen.

“My court is honored to receive Oracle Tsukiko, the Star of the East,” Seraphina called out. “Truly honored. But…Sister.” She fought hard not to worry her fingers against the grooves etched into the arms of the throne when she looked down at the gold-draped woman before her and asked, “Why are you here?”

Seraphina could have so easily become lost within the depths of the other woman’s quicksilver gaze, swept away like a leaf floating upon the surface of a tranquil pond. Even from that distance, she could feel the peacefulness the prophetess exuded.

And when the Oracle spoke for the first time, that tranquil pond was still not disturbed. Her voice was but a murmur, a shush of gentle sound—like the rustling of the wind through a tree’s boughs. And yet it somehow filled the entirety of the vaulted room when she declared, “I have come with good tidings, Your Majesty. And a gift from the Lord on High Himself.”

“A gift?” Duke Percival echoed, leaning forward in his seat. “You honor us beyond measure, Sister.”

A gift from the Lord Himself.

Such news should have filled Seraphina with awe. But rather than awe, she found her heart flooded with a sudden sense of dread when she heard the Oracle’s strange voice unfurl forth yet again. Though this time, it did not ghost through the air between them. This time, the other woman’s voice was… elsewhere .

It was within Seraphina’s very mind.

All of Avirel is in grave danger, Your Majesty.

A ragged breath shuddered its way into Seraphina’s lungs as she flicked a sidelong glance first to her right and then to her left. But both Duke Percival and Father Perero had eyes only for the Oracle. They did not seem to have heard.

No one seemed to have heard.

She didn’t know an Oracle could do that. The Scriptures made no mention of it.

Mysai will soon be lost, and all of Avirel after, if we do not act…

Mysai? Seraphina dug her blunted fingernails into the arms of her throne. Still, Mysai lay quiet. It had now been weeks since last she'd heard any news.

Until now.

“I also wished to beg leave of Your Majesty to reside here in Goldreach for a time—” Oracle Tsukiko continued aloud, even as her voice still skimmed along the outer reaches of Seraphina’s thoughts.

But do not be afraid.

“—so that I and my Redguard might then journey with you to the peace summit you are planning.”

The future is never written in stone.

Seraphina’s heart thundered within her chest as the throne room erupted into a cacophony of yet more whispers. She had yet to announce the peace summit. She had yet to even invite Drakmor to take part in it.

And yet, the Oracle had known.

But of course she would know. She was an Oracle.

Swallowing hard, Seraphina continued to stare at the Kunishi woman. She struggled to think of what to say for all of a moment before she finally asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

Duke Percival flashed her a queer look. The question surely made no sense to one who had not heard the warning delivered up to her own thoughts. But she had to know. She had to know why the Lord had sent the Oracle all that way to tell her all of Avirel was in danger.

What could she possibly do about it?

It was the Oracle’s Shield who next spoke, though, when he announced, “Oracle Tsukiko requests permission to approach the throne, to bestow her gift—a blessing from the Lord.”

I will show you, the Oracle answered the posed question within her thoughts instead. If you are willing to See.

Again, Seraphina tried to swallow against the rising lump in her throat. Her mouth was dry. Her fingers shook. “I don’t understand,” she admitted aloud.

To which Duke Percival immediately muttered, “Neither do I.”

Now her godfather was watching her rather than the Oracle before the dais.

She could only shake her head at him, though. How could she possibly explain to him what was happening when she herself didn’t know?

With a renewed shimmering of bells, Oracle Tsukiko rose to her feet. “I will bestow upon you a blessing of knowledge,” she explained.

So long as you understand that all such knowledge is a double-edged blade.

“But you may refuse, Your Majesty,” the prophetess reassured. The woman’s strange silver eyes seemed to glow with some hidden power when she further promised, “It is your choice.”

A soft fluttering of wings heralded Alyx’s approach as the usuru finally stopped flitting about the rafters and settled herself into her usual place about Seraphina’s shoulders. The familiar weight of her winged companion was enough to soothe some of her rattled nerves.

But only some.

Why me? she wanted to ask again.

But if this danger truly concerned her people in Mysai, then that was answer enough. Unease prickled the hairs on the back of her neck as she considered the matter further .

A double-edged blade .

What did that mean? Would the knowledge wound her in some way?

But how could she possibly refuse a gift from the Lord Himself?

“I accept,” Seraphina finally whispered, the words so quiet she feared no one had actually heard her speak.

But clearly the Oracle heard, given how the Kunishi woman stepped forward and mounted the dais without further pause.

Those bells about the prophetess’s wrists and ankles, so soft and melodious before, were now like the ringing of a death knell as they rattled within Seraphina’s ears. But she knew, somehow, that it was too late to turn back. She had already agreed.

The gift could not be refused now.

Alyx’s purr rumbled against her throat when Seraphina reached out her hand toward the Oracle. She offered her arm as she always did when receiving a blessing from Father Perero.

But rather than gently touching her wrist as the Shepherd was wont to do, Oracle Tsukiko offered a soft, “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” before seizing her hand with a strength Seraphina would not have expected from so small a woman.

The pain which followed was agony beyond any she had ever known.

A great heat burned its way through her fingers and up her arm, rapidly consuming the entirety of her form. The throne room melted away. A dark smog took its place. She heard screams in the air. She tasted death on the wind. Usuri fell from the skies, the messages they bore lost within the haze .

The world spun, the vision shifted.

She saw Goldreach ablaze. Corpses lined the streets. Her stomach churned at the sight of so much death. It surrounded her on all sides.

Fire and ash and the bodies of her people.

Her people.

Seraphina writhed upon her throne. Her throat burned with the force of her own scream. From far away, she heard her godfather shouting. But none of his words made sense.

Nothing made any sense.

Stars fell from the heavens. The earth cracked open beneath her feet. The seas swelled. Mountains dissolved into dust. And all around her spread a great, impenetrable darkness that swallowed all until nothing was left. It was gone.

Avirel was gone.

I don’t understand , she screamed within that void. Why are you showing me this? What could I possibly do to stop it?

But the Oracle was silent now.

No voice greeted her in that void.

There was only darkness.

There was only pain from the inferno still blazing through her.

Please…please show me how to save my people…please…

She felt the world shift again. The darkness receded and the stars returned. One by one, they winked back to life, though now she saw delicate threads burning between them, linking them all together in an intricate web she had no hope of comprehending.

A great roar sounded from the depths of one star, so loud it nearly shattered her into a thousand pieces. Within yet another, a purple light thrummed with an inviting glow, like the beating of a heart. But it was toward the one black star shining within those new heavens she felt the strongest pull—an incessant desire to know what secrets it might hold.

When Seraphina reached for it, the star drew near. Faster and faster it approached until it was all she could see. At its heart stood a strange crow—a crow far larger than any bird should be.

Its ankles were shackled.

Its feathers shimmered with blood.

She flinched away, seeking to flee from the chained bird’s gruesome appearance. But it was too late.

It had seen her.

When its head turned to look at her, she saw it only had one eye. One eye intent on boring straight into her soul. And shining within the depths of the crow’s one-eyed gaze, she saw the image of a woman. A woman wreathed in golden flame.

It was her.

The woman wreathed in light was her .