Page 13

Chapter 13

Secret Revealed

S ylzenya had known the cut would hurt, every girl’s first always did, but she’d been foolish to believe it no worse than that of a bee’s sting. While she’d never been bitten by a serpentum, its fangs sinking into flesh, thick and sharp, ripping at her without promise of release, she imagined this to be similar.

Everything within her begged surrender.

Instead, she dug her fingers deeper into the damp soil, the golden light of her goddess’ power trailing wide circles around her wrists, up her forearms, and slicing deep into the soft flesh of her back.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

A heartbeat. She’d heard of this before, how Aretta’s life continued to live on through the soil.

The dirt between her hands shook. Crumbling earth sifted this way and that until a tiny green sprout broke in between her fingers. Eyes wide, Sylzenya leaned forward. The sprout grew rapidly, the golden power of her goddess wrapping itself around what had become a thick tree trunk. Taller it grew until it towered over her. Bright excitement tingled her hands as tree limbs unfurled from the soft brown trunk, leaves blooming like crowded grapes on a vine. The willow tree cast a cool blanket of shade over her heated skin.

“Careful, child,” a commanding voice ushered from behind. “That’s enough for today.”

Sylzenya meant to obey the command, but then a gray and white feathered bird landed on one of the willow’s branches. Its bright eyes found hers, an unfathomable blue that pierced deeper than the cut spanning her back. Something about it seemed… familiar. The golden light tightened around her arms, squeezing as the bird continued its unruly stare.

“ Sylzenya ,” her mother’s voice called.

All in one breath, Sylzenya released her hands from the dirt and fell back, elbows sinking into wet earth. Her goddess’ power retreated into the dirt in one quick blink. Head tilting back, she searched the newly created branches for the bird.

But it was gone.

“You have a gifted child,” the High One announced.

He approached the willow, his white hair drifting in the breeze with his white robes. His warm yellow gaze found hers. He brushed the back of his hand against the bark, surprise lighting his face. She’d only seen the High One once before, and she’d been just as intrigued by his ageless face then as she was now.

He smiled. “She will make a powerful acolyte in the years to come.”

A loud shout of praise to their goddess rang through the ancient Willow Grove. Sylzenya gathered herself as she peered at the all the women lined side by side. Each was draped in shining white robes that wrapped around their bodies in intricate designs, accentuating their curves and exposing part of their chest, stomach, and legs to the warm sunshine overhead.

The Kreenas of Aretta’s Temple.

But then she found the gaze of her parents. Her father’s dark blue eyes matched his tunic while her mother’s ash-colored hair blended in with her white linen dress.

Both wore a sense of pride shadowed by sadness; it felt as if vines twisted around Sylzenya’s throat, choking her.

“You may have your final words with her,” the High One said.

Just as Sylzenya refused to succumb to the pain, so she refused to shed the tears that formed at the corners of her eyes. Her mother whispered her name, the familiar grip of her father’s calloused hand resting on her shoulder. Sylzenya willed herself to breathe.

“It’s beautiful, my flower bud,” her mother whispered as she crouched next to her, “Your power is greater than we could’ve hoped for.”

Clenching her jaw, Sylzenya shut her eyes tight. “It is.”

“Darling, you need not fear,” her father voiced, his hand squeezing gently, “I know you worry for us, but we’ll be taken care of, as will you. It’s best this way.”

Her knuckles turned white as her fingernails dug into her palms. Their lives had been difficult. Her father was a lowly guard with such limited power from their goddess that most places of occupation dismissed him after a month or two. And her mother’s power only allowed her to keep their naturally grown produce fresh for a single day, unlike most women who could do so for three or four. They didn’t make much of a living, but they did it together, relying on their own hands to feed themselves.

But now that she’d proven her affinity to Aretta’s power, all of that would change. She would become an apprentice to a Kreena, living in the temple until her dying days while her parents watched from afar. At least they would have access to the temple’s plentiful foods, the same kind Sylzenya would be producing for her people in the years to come.

She should be grateful; this day meant her parents would toil less and live more.

And yet, sadness filled her heart.

“Not a day will pass where we won’t be thinking of you,” her mother spoke, “You understand why this must happen, don’t you?”

“I do,” Sylzenya whispered.

They’d discussed it extensively. If Sylzenya held great enough power, then she would be needed to keep her kingdom safe. She’d agreed to it then, but now everything felt different.

It felt real.

“Let us see your stone,” her father said.

Sylzenya obeyed, pulling away the dirt that surrounded the willow’s trunk. A yellow glow fought through the soil, lighting her eyes once she dug far enough to retrieve it. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around it, the once clear white crystal now pulsing with a yellow light at its center. The orodyte was no larger than a ripe apple.

“Do you understand what this is?” her father inquired.

“Dynameis wear it on their armor,” Sylzenya answered. “It’s where their power comes from, so they might defeat the monsters of Lhaal Forest.”

“Your studies have done you well,” her father said, “But there’s more. The only way you could create life through the earth is by gathering its impurities and sealing it in this piece of orodyte. In turn, Dynameis can wield the impurity held in this stone through their connection with Aretta’s powers, using what was meant to destroy the earth to instead kill those monstrous creatures that threaten our borders.” He paused, sliding a finger down the stone. “You’ve gifted our people a chance to survive in more ways than one.”

Sylzenya couldn’t stop her hand from shaking.

“Flower bud,” her mother whispered as she softly folded Sylzenya’s hand into hers, “It’s a responsibility that will come with time. You’re only a sapling of fourteen years. A Kreena will be your guide these next ten to perfect your skills. You needn’t fear this.”

Her parents thought she feared the power she held, but they couldn’t be further from the truth.

She feared a life apart from them.

“I’ll do my best,” Sylzenya said as she forced her hand to cease its trembling, “for Aretta, for our people...”

For both of you.

“We know you will,” her father said with a gentle voice. “We look forward to the day we see your beautiful, shining face again.”

Her mother and father embraced her. Sylzenya dug her fingers into their arms, their warm, familiar scents causing the sobs in her throat to well inside of her. The orodyte slipped from her fingers.

“The time has come, Sylzenya,” the High One proclaimed, his voice deep as the thrum of her own heartbeat.

Her parents let her go.

She clung to them, digging her nails into her father’s tunic and her mother’s dress.

“Please,” she whispered, “don’t leave me.”

Her father’s eyes turned glassy, brows dipping as he caressed her face. Hope lit her chest. She knew this face. He would take her back, tell the High One this was a mistake. They wouldn’t leave her here unless she wanted it. They loved her too greatly to let her go.

“We’ll see you soon, Sylzenya,” he whispered, kissing her forehead in goodbye, “I promise.”

No.

The High One carefully pried Sylzenya’s hands off of her parents. One of the Kreenas came to their side, her long black hair plaited in two strands down her back.

Suddenly, the ground quaked, and Sylzenya’s willow twisted into itself.

She backed away, tripping over a rogue branch, hitting the dirt as the tree grew without her power. Horror filled her lungs as she opened her mouth in a soundless scream. The sun disappeared, casting the grove in darkness. Every tree and person disappeared into shadow, everything except her willow. Instead, the tree grew taller and wider.

Blinding light erupted from the tree. Sylzenya covered her face, tears staining her cheeks as she tried to run, but her muscles refused.

“For life there is a price, and only in pain is it made whole, Sylzenya Phatris,” a loud voice echoed from the glowing tree— Aretta’s Willow , “Your choice has been made, and so your consequence is set in blood and stone.”

Pain shot up her back as the gray and white feathered bird flew to her, landing at her feet. The memory of her dedication to the temple had vanished.

“ Please ,” Sylzenya yelled at the bird, “I take it back. I don’t need the compass. I don’t need Aretta’s Willow!”

“If you’re to restore your power and protect your people, then Aretta’s Willow is the only way,” the bird said, “Was this not what I told you, Sylzenya Phatris?”

“I found a cure,” she replied, “I don’t need the tree.”

The bird cawed with laughter. “You found a cure, then where is it?”

Sylzenya gulped. “The High One’s almost done making it. I’ll have it soon and my power will be restored.”

“ Be wary of who you trust .”

“I should’ve never trusted you .”

“I told you you would regret this path.” The bird continued, “What has been sealed cannot be undone. Find the compass, Sylzenya, or all will be lost. Find Aretta’s Willow, or more than just your power and people will be taken away.”

A flower broke through the ground and bloomed, its petals twisting and glowing until it turned into the golden compass, its center glowing with the single piece of bark pointing to the glowing tree. Another flower tore through the dirt and transformed into a golden ring. It shone like the sun, only to turn crimson, melting into blood. An orodyte emerged from the ground, the blood filling the stone until it pulsed a glowing red.

“ The price for life will always be pain .” the bird echoed, its body snatched by a claw of twigs, its blood and feathers swirling into the darkness.

Sharp pain ruptured along Sylzenya’s back as everything around her swirled into a blinding white. She screamed louder, begging the bird to come back and tell her what it all meant?—

She jolted awake, sweat dripping down her face. Gulping thick spit down her throat, she remembered herself; she was in the village, following through with the High One’s orders, sharing a room with?—

“Did you have a nice dream?” a deep voice asked from the darkness.

Prince Elnok. Sylzenya turned to find him sitting on the floor next to her bed, holding a candle, his face tossed in light and shadow.

“My apologies,” she said, “Did I wake you?”

She lifted her hands, only to find she couldn’t. Confusion pulled at her mind as she tried again only to realize they were secured to her bedpost.

With rope.

“Like I said, my rope isn’t made for decor,” Prince Elnok said, motioning to the bed sheet no longer suspended between their sides of the room. “Now,” he continued, tilting his head, “Tell me everything you know about Aretta’s Willow.”

Blood raced through her heart and veins, her breaths uneven. She tried to stay calm, but this man’s unwavering gaze had her shaking. Wrists chafing against the rope, she wondered why she’d thought to stay in this room with a man who had been claimed dead for ten years.

Be wary of who you trust.

“I don’t know what you’re going on about,” Sylzenya replied, trying to keep her voice even, “I had a nightmare, that’s it. Now let me go, or I’ll tell the High One about this.”

Prince Elnok stood up. Setting the candle on her bedside table, he took hold of the rope and tightened it. She winced, the rough material biting into her wrists. She wanted to scream for the innkeeper, but the woman might believe this prince was cursed.

Rumors would start. She’d fail the High One’s tasks, and then he’d withhold her cure. She needed to get out of this as calmly as possible.

Elnok ignored her words, “The issue here is that if you don’t tell me what you know about Aretta’s Willow and this compass you screamed about, I might just let your little secret slip with one of these villagers. I’m guessing rumors spread fast in this kingdom.”

Sweat poured down her aching back. “Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“ The villagers would be less frightened if you were to demonstrate your power, ” he said, mocking the innkeeper’s voice, “What’d you tell that sweet old lady, again? Something about how the cure hasn’t fully developed in your body or some bullshit?” He crossed his arms. “How do you think your kingdom would feel knowing you’ve been lying to them about this cure ?”

Her stomach dropped. Everything she’d said in the dream, she’d said out loud.

He had heard everything.

“It isn’t a lie,” she seethed.

“Gods, your trust in your ‘blessed’ High One is remarkable. So, according to him, you’re going to receive a cure. Why not just tell your kingdom the truth, then?” He leaned forward, his green eyes shifting in the candlelight, “What do you think your leader is hiding?”

The blood drained from her face. She yanked against the rope only for it to tighten more. She cursed.

“He isn’t hiding anything,” she muttered.

“I’m sure.” He smiled. “Now, what do you say? Tell me about the healing tree and compass, and I’ll keep this secret tucked away nice and tight? I’d say it’s a pretty generous offer.”

Sylzenya gritted her teeth, snarling at him as his smile grew.

“Why do you need the tree?”

“Now that is privileged information.” He leaned even closer, her body shivering as his breath brushed her ear, “And I’d be careful if I were you. I’m exceptionally clever when it comes to identifying lies. So if you choose to do so, I’ll know.” He leaned back. “Although you can certainly try.”

Sylzenya surveyed his face. A roguish grin with severe eyes.

“You’re bluffing,” she said.

He raised his brows. “An interesting assumption. Would you like to test that theory?”

No, she wouldn’t.

“You forget the piece of leverage I still hold against you.”

“Ah, yes, how I’m here to curse your kingdom. Very well, you tell them I’m cursed, and I’ll tell them you don’t have any power to save them. Then we’ll both lose.”

“You’d risk that?” she asked. “Being arrested and thrown in our dungeons for a life sentence?”

“Maybe they’ll let us share a cell. Then we can be miserable together.”

“A punishment far worse than death,” she muttered.

“I’ll have you know I make a great cellmate.”

“Not surprised to hear it wouldn’t be your first time. Are you even a prince?”

He grinned. “I’m what people might call a man of many trades.”

“So you’re a liar.”

“Oh, I’m very much a royal by blood, although my lifestyle may not be a reflection most people expect from a man entitled to a crown.”

She stared at him in silence, the single flame burning to its final moments as she cursed this man and his godsdamn rope.

“So,” he said, stepping back, “What will it be? Tell me about Aretta’s Willow and its compass, or inform your people that their holy chosen one is a fraud?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she stared into the prince’s green unwavering eyes. There wasn’t much he could do with the information regarding Aretta’s Willow, the excessive amount of willows in the temple making the search for the compass impossible. The consequences were minimal, if any at all, but if the truth about the cure got out… her people could lose their faith altogether.

She’d fail her task.

“Untie me and I’ll tell you,” she said, her arms no longer shaking, her heart having slowed, “But you’re not going to like it.”

His confidence didn’t waver as he released her from the ropes.

“Try me.”