Page 18 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood (Dragons of Tirene #3)

Chapter Eighteen

As if answering my prayers, a building of black glass-like stone begins to take shape ahead of us. The temple of Nyc, goddess of night and mistress of the dark lands where the souls of the dead go once their link to the light is cut. Her house of worship blends in with the shadows of the trees, disappearing into the darkness.

It’s a consolation that this temple resembles the ones I’m used to in Aclaris. In a world of constant changes, having something solid and simple is reassuring.

The temple is vast. So large, I’d imagine every dragon in Tirene could easily fit. The facets of the chipped stone blocks used to create the structure seem to repel the light.

Approaching the temple, I am acutely aware of my white attire, a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness. Pulling the veil from my head, I leave it on the ground. It feels almost sacrilegious to wear such a thing inside to address the darkness herself.

We approach the threshold, stopping in front of the box mounted by the door. Lifting the lid, I find it filled with black coal dust. Releasing a sigh of relief, I press my hand inside the box, covering it in black. Not only are our gods the same in Tirene and Aclaris, but so are our customs regarding them.

I step back to allow Sterling to gather his while I brush my blackened thumb over my eyelids to honor the goddess, as is expected when approaching during the day or when it’s not possible to wear all black.

With measured movements, Sterling and I smudge the darkness upon our foreheads and lips, to not just “see” the dark but to “know” it and “be heard” by it. Refreshing the coal on my hands, I brush my ears as well, showing my need to “hear” from the darkness.

It’s akin to donning a new identity, one that belongs in this shadowy realm.

Raising an eyebrow in silent question, Sterling places his hand on the door. After I nod, he pulls it open for us.

I take his hand, needing the warmth and strength of his touch.

His eyes meet mine, so soft and understanding.

For a hot second, I toy with the idea of running back to the palace, to his room. No. Better yet. Running into the forest. Hiding in the trees, curling up in Sterling’s arms, and getting so lost in each other’s bodies that nothing else in the world matters.

Just fantasizing about it has my pulse speeding up. Sterling pauses. The heat in his gaze nearly burns me, and I have no doubt he’d be more than happy to indulge my whims.

He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “Keep looking at me like that, and we’re going to be naked in about thirty seconds. Something tells me the goddess wouldn’t be too thrilled if we desecrated her temple. So unless you want her to hear you screaming my name as you come on my?—”

I clamp my hand across his mouth before he can say anything else.

I’m here to talk to the goddess. Or at least one of her priests or priestesses. Not to get my rocks off to forget my problems.

What is he anyway, a freaking mind reader? And what the actual fuck is wrong with me? With both of us?

Setting aside that thought for later, I lower my hand. “Behave. I mean it.”

His lips tilt up in a sexy smirk, but he stays silent.

We step into an antechamber barely large enough to fit us both. He pulls the outside door closed behind us, bathing us in the darkness. The door is tightly fitted to keep the world of light outside this sacred place. Roaring silence fills my ears, courtesy of the thick, soundproof walls.

Reaching forward blindly, I find the second handle. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Sterling shifts beside me, his fingers wrapping around mine.

Pushing in the door, we step into the temple.

It always strikes me as slightly strange that the darkest part of the temple is the antechamber and not the temple itself. In contrast, the interior of the temple glows faintly, illuminated by a single candle that flickers and dances on its short wick. Though the entire structure is massive, this room alone feels as though it might be cavernous.

A cool breeze blows as if from the depths of the earth, chasing the light around the room. Rejecting it. The altar sits close to the door so those who aren’t acolytes to the dark might easily find it, but light is otherwise unwelcome in the temple.

A voice echoes through the chamber, emanating from the shadows on the other side of the candle-lit altar. “You’ve come seeking answers, young one.”

A figure draped in robes as dark as the night sky emerges from the black void. Her obscured features blend into the shadows as she glides over to me.

It doesn’t escape my notice that she is nearly the exact opposite of me in attire. Head to toe, she is swathed in black, including a veil that covers her face.

I shift my weight. “Please pardon the white. I mean no disrespect.”

The priestess laughs. “You’ve just come from a funeral. It is to be expected. Where no offense is meant, none is taken. All colors lose their meaning in the dark, regardless. What troubles your mind so strongly it brings you directly from Peru’s ritual to Nyc?”

“I lost my father before I knew his name.” The words rush out of me as a knot of emotion forms in my throat. “How will I find him in the next world?”

Sterling jerks, turning to stare at me. All traces of his earlier teasing are gone.

I don’t know what he expected me to ask, but clearly this wasn’t it. If all the other things happening in my life didn’t make me constantly question everything, losing Mother certainly has.

“The bonding sacrifice is not the only way to find your loved ones who journey through the dark lands, simply the easiest.” Though the priestess’s features are mainly hidden in the dark, her voice has me speculating that she’s at least my mother’s age, if not older. The soothing, somehow maternal tone echoes with wisdom I can only envy. “You can simply look for them as well, but it will take time. Envision the darkness behind your eyes. The darkness of sleep. Of the womb. The darkness that cradles life. Doing that should help bring you closer to Nyc.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. I will at least have a chance to apologize to him in the next world, something I wasn’t able to do in this one.

“However…” The priestess shifts closer, and I’m surprised that she stands several inches above me. Behind her black veil, her eyes are mere glimmers, and they burrow into me as if seeking my soul. “You have shared kin. A sibling. Once you are bonded, if they bonded to your father, then you can find your father through them.”

Confusion engulfs me. “I don’t understand. The only sibling I have is my sister, Leesa, but she isn’t a blood relative.”

The priestess pauses with her head cocked, as if listening to a voice no one else can hear. “Not a sister. A brother. One who shares the same father.”

My heart stills before erupting into a frantic rhythm, pumping hope through my veins. I believed that all my immediate biological family was dead. If the priestess is correct, that’s not true.

I have a biological brother. Now, it’s just a matter of finding him. “Do you know where my brother is? Is he somewhere in Tirene?”

“He’s close. You merely need to open your heart and trust your instincts, and he will be revealed.”

I huff an annoyed puff of air. That sounds like the same type of vague nonsense you’d hear from a phony fortune teller, but I tamp down my frustration and table the subject. I can’t afford to piss off the priestess before we get the answers we seek.

“Praise Nyc.” I force the prayer from my mouth. “And thank you.”

“Indeed.” Her teeth shine for a moment in what I think is a smile. “Are there any other questions weighing on your minds?” She slowly cocks her head at Sterling, and his fingers tighten around mine.

“Can you tell us any information about the drachen? Or of phoenixes?” His urgent, rushed voice cuts through the quiet.

The priestess shakes her head, the motion poking holes in my hopes. “The drachen are not of our scriptures, nor, as creatures of fire and light, are the phoenixes.”

“Oh.” Sterling deflates next to me, his white-clad form easy to identify in the meager candlelight.

“I was not there the night of the attack, but I have heard the tales, as well as descriptions of the drachen’s appearance. They remind me of the stories about Nyc’s son, Narc.” Her whispery voice seems to bounce off the very walls. “The god of nightmares.”

A shiver runs down my spine.

Nightmares.

That does sound like the drachen.

I lick my bone-dry lips. “Could you…tell us more about him?” I keep my voice low as well, part of me scared that Nyc will overhear me asking for gossip about her son and strike me dead on the spot.

“Narc was Nyc’s second child, her first son. While her eldest daughter Mar was the goddess of dreams and visions who blessed people, Narc punished those who deserved it by bringing them nightmares that fed on their fear.”

While the priestess delivers the story with obvious familiarity, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard of such a god.

Judging from Sterling’s expression, he’s never heard of such a god either. “What happened to him? Why are there no temples to Narc or clerics who speak his name?”

“Narc…” For the first time, sorrow tinges her voice. “The god of nightmares was tormented by his own existence. His job required him to punish those who committed wrongs, whether it was a small misdeed committed by a child or depravities reveled in by the truly evil. He began spiraling into darker acts in an attempt to correct human behavior. That is, until he found a method to force humans to behave in such a way he would never have to punish them again.”

“How?”

“He managed to cage free will.”

But…the gods never force us to do anything. They only inform us of what we must do to gain their favor and relay the consequences of certain actions.

“How is that possible?” Sterling sounds as shaken as I feel. This is world-changing information. Why isn’t it better known?

“I am but a simple priestess and do not know all the secrets kept in the dark. You may find better answers from a high priestess or an archivist. I know it was considered a crime so heinous the gods themselves intervened to stop him and restore free will to all.”

Sterling’s hand finds mine, a steady warmth as we listen.

“By the end of the battle, Narc was no more. And the gods who fought against him were lost to the void, their very names forgotten. Those of us who search the dark for answers only know there are blank spots where gods should be.”

“They disappeared?”

It seems impossible.

My mind churns with the implications. Could the drachen be Narc’s nightmares still hunting for those to punish after the god who created and controlled them was lost? “How does one fight creatures that could do that to the gods?”

“Carefully.” Sterling tightens his grasp on my hand, his warmth a reassurance against the fear creeping into my mind. “Together.” He nods to the priestess, then starts heading for the door.

“One moment.” I extract my hand from his. “I have one more sacrifice I’ve prepared for today.”

The priestess steps back as I approach, leaving me to the sanctity of the altar.

Jars of all sizes surround the stubby candle. Each one is capped with a cork and draped in black leather.

Reaching forward, I find one of the leather-clad lids. Using my hands, I ensure the container is the proper size as I reach for my pocket.

I close my eyes and envision the void like the priestess told me.

Envision the darkness behind your eyes. The darkness of sleep. Of the womb. The darkness that cradles life.

My prayer is silent, spoken only in the darkness of my mind.

Please, guide us. Lend us your shroud to obscure their gaze, your silence to deafen their cries.

Blindly, I withdraw the feather I found in the Lost City from my pocket. I didn’t know why I brought it with me this morning, but now I know there’s no better offering for Nyc than a feather from one of her own sacred animals.

Using both hands, I tuck it into the jar, then lift the lid to the mouth. Ensuring the leather wrap lays flat, I press the cork down, sealing my sacrifice in darkness, where no light can find it.

As my lashes slowly lift, the darkness around me unfolds like a bottomless pit that surrounds me from all sides.

I have a fraction of a moment, barely enough time to understand what I’m seeing. Then, like the segments of a dragon’s wing, shadows snap out. I’m cocooned before I can move.

Every mote of light that tries to pierce through is mercilessly snuffed out, devoured by an insatiable void. Looking up and down changes nothing. I start to reach out, then snatch my arm back in fear when I cannot see even that. I can feel my muscles contracted tightly in my bicep, and my knuckles pressed against my chest. That is the only way I can be sure of where my limb is.

Panic grips my chest, but as I take in my blank surroundings, I realize this is not blindness. Nor is it a void.

This is living darkness.

It surrounds me with a comforting embrace from the depths of obscurity. There is a weight to it, pressing gently all around me. I reach out again, and I can almost swear I feel the darkness slide between my fingers as I wiggle them.

“Darkness sees you, mortal.” A voice—not the priestess’s—echoes all around me, omnipresent and resonant with power.

I’m not startled as it seeps into the cavernous spaces within me. Spaces that have been hollowed out by loss are warm again. Tears burn my eyes, held in place by shock.

Should I kneel? Should I curtsy? Throwing myself prone on the floor seems a more fitting alternative.

Too stunned to move, I do nothing.

“Your sacrifice pleases the shadows.” The voice is ethereal yet intimate as it brushes my ears, eyes, lips, and still echoes as if from a great distance. “Nyc heeds your call.”

A reverence-induced sigh quakes through my body.

Blinded by divine attention, my heart beats to the pulse of the night.