Page 31 of Acolyte (Tempris #2)

Taly turned to study the central altar. The Sacred Six stood in a perfect semi-circle, their bodies lithe and nimble and draped with wings that, even carved in stone, looked to be made of gossamer.

They were beautiful—familiar and yet so utterly other that no one could mistake them for anything but what they were: gods—beings of supreme and absolute power and grace.

“I don’t know much,” Taly admitted. “Ivain only took us to temple on the high holidays, but I do know the standard story. Before the Fall, there were six great kings and queens sent by the Magnus, blessed father of all, to rule over all that is, all that was, and all that ever would be.”

Fingers still glowing with magic, she pointed to each of the statues in turn, reciting the stories she had learned as a child: “Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Shadow, and Time—the Magnus gave each of his children a kernel of divine power and commanded them to go out into the cosmos and multiply, to spread and fill all of the worlds with life. They fashioned creatures great and small, each of a single divine element, but to the fey, their most beloved creation, their true children, they each gave a piece of themselves.”

Azura nodded. “And what of the central figure?”

Taly looked at the seventh statue that stood in the center of the semi-circle beneath a shroud of velvet black. “He is the Judge, the Magnus’ eldest son, the god of Death.”

“His face shall never be seen,” Azura said softly, quoting a passage from the Book of the Faera so well-known that even Taly recognized it, “and his name shall never be uttered. For his betrayal, he shall sleep until the stars fall and the heavens shudder.”

Taly took a breath when she felt her aether begin to dip, and she closed her eyes, teasing out a bit more power. To her great relief, the spell never wavered. “What does this have to do with crystal- based magic? If I wanted to learn about religion, I’d go to temple.”

“You’re in temple, dear.”

This time, Taly did roll her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Religion is history,” Azura replied simply. “Not always accurate, but history, nonetheless. And since crystals derive their functionality from the Shards, it’s directly relevant to today’s lesson.”

Azura sighed, fluttering her fan against the summer heat.

“No matter the realm, no matter the species, the Sacred Six are there, hidden in myth, their stories twisted by the passage of time. We know that ancient race of gods as the Faera, but to the Nephilim, they are the Aerin; to the Draegon, the Xolos. Humans simply called them Titans . Every story has its distinctions—none of them get it completely right. Nevertheless, one thing rings true: the Sacred Six were very real, as tangible as you and me.”

Taly’s brows rose. Though she had never considered herself religious, she did believe that the Genesis Shards held power, even if she wasn’t sure that power heralded from the soul of a slumbering god.

But to hear that the Sacred Six had been real—actual people that lived and breathed, ate and slept… She wasn’t sure why that surprised her.

“Spell, dear.”

Taly yelped when a broken piece of beam crashed into a row of pews across the room, and she pulled on the spell, tightened the web before anything else could drop.

She looked to the Queen, and her heart gave a tiny skip when Azura nodded her head, not quite pleased but, at the very least, not dissatisfied .

“The priestesses of the Faerasanna,” Azura continued, “have made the Sacred Six out to be these all-knowing, all-powerful beings of good and light, but it’s all superstitious nonsense.

Yes, they wielded power that we’ll never begin to be able to fathom, and yes, they could be kind, but they were also capricious, self-serving, and, at times, foolish.

They were, in many ways, just like the creatures they created.

Imperfect and subject to the whims of folly and chance.

They had an entire universe of possibility at their feet, and yet they still squabbled like children. ”

“You’re talking about the war.”

“Yes.”

“So, the Judge and his Sickness—was that real as well?”

“Also, yes.” Azura let her eyes drift to the veiled figure. “The Judge was sent down to watch over his brothers and sisters, and when he saw that they were growing too powerful, he created an equalizer—a balancing force to their divine gifts. He created death and unleashed it upon all of creation.”

Azura paused momentarily, pressing her fan to her lips.

Then, Taly felt it. A sharp tug on the spell, as though the Queen were trying to wrestle pieces of the wreckage away from her and speed them along their path toward the ground.

The attacks came from all around, like a million tiny taps on the inside of her mind.

Gripping the edge of the pew, Taly shoved at the presence.

Shoved and pushed until her body began to ache and sweat soaked her collar.

Seconds passed, or maybe it was minutes—she couldn’t be sure.

But eventually, bit by bit, thread by thread, she picked her way along the web of magic and regained her grip on the spell.

There was another sharp snap of magic, but Taly held onto every piece of damned debris.

Held them and yanked , shaking off that invisible hand.

Azura gave a satisfied nod. “The Judge’s plague,” she continued, “planted within us a seed of mortality. It gave us the ability to die, and for that, the Sacred Six went to war, or so the priestesses would have you believe.”

“You don’t think it’s true?” Taly asked, her eyes flicking from the Queen to the cloud and back again.

“Oh, it’s true.” A pause. The Queen amended, “In a way. You see, like most fables, the truth of the war that heralded the Fall of the Faera is distorted. History is shaped by those that live to tell it, and once you’ve been around long enough, you’ll see that the victors always find a way to absolve themselves of any true blame. ”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying the Judge didn’t create death?”

“I’m saying that nothing is ever black-and-white, and there are very few things about the Faera that anyone can say with any certainty. What we do know is that they quarreled with their elder brother, and as a result, all of creation began to die.”

“Because of the Sickness,” Taly said softly. Even those that debated the origin of the Shards’ power agreed that the Sickness had been real—some unknown plague that had crossed worlds and species, eradicating everything in its path before disappearing back into the pages of history.

“Yes.” Azura fanned herself, considering her next words.

“The Sickness spread from person to person, race to race. The Six tried to combat its effects. When they failed… well, there are some stories that say they went to their brother and begged for mercy, others that say they threatened him. Either way, the gods went to war, and the Age of the Faera came to an end.”

Taly shivered despite the warmth of the sun streaming down through the wreckage above. “Why didn’t they kill the Judge?” she asked. “The stories say that he was never going to give up until every living thing had been snuffed out, so why didn’t the Six just kill him when they had the chance?”

“Because they couldn’t. After so many centuries of fighting, it took all their remaining power to banish him and his plague to the dark pits of Maluum, and without magic to sustain them, their bodies turned to stone.

Which, in case you were beginning to wonder, is how we come back to the subject of crystals. ”

Taly’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Azura reached into her pocket and produced a time crystal as big as her palm.

“Whether you choose to believe that the Magnus, in his great mercy, took his children’s remains and spread them to all corners of the world or that they were dispersed by more scientific means—one thing stands true.

The bodies of the Sacred Six broke apart and were eventually scattered to all corners of the universe.

They were buried and overlooked, regarded as little more than pretty pieces of stone until a man named Jyn Frano discovered that these crystal remains could focus and refine aether. ”

Taly blinked. But that would mean… “No.”

Azura chuckled softly. “Yes. ”

Taly touched a tentative finger to the surface of the crystal. “You’re telling me that’s a dead god?”

“A piece of one.”

“I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“What would I gain from that, dear?”

Taly pulled her hand away, wiping her fingers on her trousers. “I don’t know. Just to mess with me? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“As much fun as that sounds, I’m telling the truth. This time,” she added, laughing at Taly’s answering grimace.

“Even with their bodies shattered and dispersed,” Azura continued, not even trying to hide her smile, “the souls of the old gods still lingered, tethered to the bit of rock that used to be their hearts. The day the war ended—that was the day the first Council was formed. The six fey generals that fought side-by-side with their gods made one final sacrifice. They joined their souls with the Sacred Six, giving their creators the ability to watch the world through the eyes of their most beloved creation.”

“So, wait…” Taly hesitated, trying to piece together the bits of information. “If you’re a Genesis Lord—”

“One day you’re going to stop stating the obvious, and oh what a day that will be. I think we’ll throw a party.”

“If you’re a Genesis Lord,” Taly repeated, purposely ignoring the Queen, “and you bonded your soul to the Time Shard…” Taly’s eyes went wide. “Are you telling me that in all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve been carrying around the calcified heart of a god in your pocket? ”

Azura gave her a flat stare. “Don’t be silly. I don’t carry the Time Shard in my pocket. That would be terribly inconvenient. The humans weren’t exaggerating when they called them Titans . It’s very large.”

Taly slouched down in the seat, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? If we were truly using our fossilized gods to power our technology, surely, that would be public knowledge.”

Azura gave a noncommittal hum. “The ‘shattered god’ theory isn’t widely accepted. And even though the members of the Genesis Council are in a unique position to set the record straight, we decided as a group that it was better not to endorse an official theory.”

“Why?”

Azura shrugged. “Many reasons, the primary being that we need crystal-based technology to sustain our way of life. Can you imagine the backlash if the Faerasanna discovered that the remains of their gods were being used to power an oven, or an aircar, or, Shards forbid, a tavern toilet? It would be far more trouble than it’s worth. ”

That’s fair , Taly thought. The Faerasanna had become more political in recent centuries. Their influence was far from absolute, but if they challenged the orthodoxy of crystal-based technologies, it would be a difficult battle, even with the support of the full Council.

“And so, the time crystals going dark…?” Taly looked to Azura. That was one thing that still didn’t make sense. If the Queen was here, and if the Shard was still bonded to her—

“ Spell .”

Taly’s heart lurched. The spell. She’d forgotten about the spell, and now it was unravelling, allowing beams and other debris to come crashing down.

She managed to grab some of the wreckage, slowing the descent of some of the larger pieces directly overhead, but splinters and chunks of stone still bombarded her.

“Azura,” she pleaded, trying to reshape the spell, throwing more aether into it as the it continued to fray. “Help. I need help!”

The altar toppled, the statues shattering as one of the largest beams hit the ground with a mighty boom .

There was a loud sigh as the Queen held up a hand, and Taly felt the enchantment rushing past her. But not to stop time.

Instead, the debris began to lift into the air, spiraling and spinning as pieces came together and beams reformed. Cracks melted and dissolved into nothing, and stones fitted themselves back into walls.

A moment later, the beams were once again crisscrossing overhead. The altar had been righted. The temple was pristine, the same as when they had first walked in.

Azura leaned back, rubbing at the bridge of her nose as though she were trying to ward off a headache. “That’s good enough, I suppose. You pass.”

Taly was still gaping at the scaffolding above, trying to figure out the magic the Queen had used. The fairies were once again bouncing off the shimmer of air magic just beyond. “What?”

“ You - pass ,” Azura repeated, enunciating each word as though she were speaking to a small child.

Taly finally managed to pull her eyes away. She stared at the Queen, confused.

“Daft girl,” Azura muttered. “Your exam. This was your second seal assessment, and you passed. You’re a Neophyte now.”

Taly went still. It was as if a hand had reached up inside her, slowly squeezing her heart as the realization began to sink in.

A test .

This had been a test ?

“But…” Taly rasped. “But you didn’t tell me this was an exam.”

She hadn’t studied, hadn’t prepared. What if… what if she had failed? How long would that have set her back? How much longer would she have been stuck here?

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Azura said.

“You either know a thing, or you don’t. And true, you likely would’ve failed if I had held you to Guild standards, but we’re on a schedule, and I figure you can sharpen up your skills during the next seal.

It’s more hands-on, and we’re far past the point of you accidentally getting yourself locked away in your own little loop. ”

Leaning forward, Taly placed her head against the back of the pew in front of them and resisted the urge to scream.

She hated time magic. She hated the Queen. She hated feeling so horribly out of her depth, and she absolutely loathed that part of her that was starting to crave this woman’s approval.

“Come along.” Azura rose from the pew. “It’s almost time for tea. ”

Of course, it was. It was always time for tea , and Taly—well, if she was being honest, that didn’t sound all that bad right now.