Page 47

46

ORIGINS

CEDRIC

With a nod and another clearing of his throat he’d hoped would nudge some of the nervousness from his body—even though he didn’t quite know what he was nervous about—Cedric began.

“As Elyria said, after the Shattering?—”

“Ah-ah, I said to start at the beginning, ” Nox interrupted.

“This is the beginning—what led to the creation of the Arcane Crucible.”

“Not just the beginning of the Crucible.”

“You want an, ‘In the beginning...’ type of tale here? Don’t you think there are better things to be doing with our time?”

“I don’t see anyone coming to rush us out of here, do you? We have nowhere to go, no one to see. Not until the Crucible shows us what comes next, or we all go mad—whichever comes first.”

Cedric sucked in a breath, tempted to roll his eyes at the nocterrian. But alas, they weren’t wrong. In the hours that had passed since the confrontation with Evander, the Sanctum had been eerily quiet. Until the next chime blared or glowing doorway appeared, they were stuck.

“ In the beginning, ” Cedric affected a deep, booming baritone, eliciting a chuckle from Elyria that pulled a smile from him, “there were the Five. Solaris, the Sun Goddess, Lunara, the Time Keeper, Noctis, Warden of Shadows, Earth Mother Gaia, and Aurelia, Guardian of Balance.”

At the mention of Aurelia, both Thraigg and Elyria huffed in unison. Cedric ignored them.

“Through the celestials, Arcanis flourished. Though they had taken oaths never to interfere directly with the affairs of the mortals that populated their world, their benevolence”—another huff from Elyria—“led the peoples of Arcanis, human and Arcanian alike, to prosper. There were periods of unrest, disputes that arose between races, to be sure. But for the most part, we all lived our separate lives on our separate sides of the continent. Until, eventually, came the rise of the fae queen, Daephinia. And with her marriage to the human king, Juno, the disparate realms were connected, made into one.”

“And here is where I suspect the accounts written in your history books may differ from Arcanian ones,” Nox mused.

“Why is that?” Cedric arched a brow. “Do the Arcanian texts paint prettily over the misery that humankind went on to suffer under Queen Daephinia’s ironfisted rule?”

“Ain’t a damn thing wrong with being an Ironfist,” muttered Thraigg, at the same time Elyria said, “What suffering?”

Cedric answered Thraigg first with a sidelong look. “You know very well I meant nothing to do with your surname.” He then turned to a bemused Elyria, equal confusion on his own face. “Surely you are not serious.”

“Queen Daephinia and King Juno’s rule was star-blessed,” she said, brow furrowing. “Arcanis prospered, cities sprouted, and the birth of the princess heralded the arrival of many other babes born.”

“Mixedborn babes,” Thraigg corrected sullenly, “and look how well that all turned out. ”

All four of them fell silent for several moments, and Cedric couldn’t keep his mind from conjuring a memory of that human woman, pregnant with a mixedborn child, wailing as if her life was ending while Cedric and his fellow knights hauled away the fae father. Perhaps her life did end that day. Perhaps she refused to allow her baby to be taken from her after it was born, as all mixedborn babies were upon discovery.

Perhaps she shared her child’s fate.

“Yes, well.” Cedric cleared his throat again. “I wouldn’t expect any of you—any Arcanian—to think otherwise. But even with a human king ruling at Daephinia’s side, it was hardly rainbows and roses for us. Humans may outnumber Arcanians, but with your magic, your physical advantages, and a fae queen ruling over all, we were never going to come out on top.”

“But there was peace—” Elyria protested.

“Peace was an illusion,” Cedric said, and it was as if a chill fell over the entire Sanctum as the words escaped his mouth. “There was much unrest. There was misery and pain.”

“There will always be misery and pain,” Nox said thoughtfully, and while Cedric didn’t disagree, that was hardly the point.

“I cannot say I’m surprised by the inaccuracy of Arcanian accounts of what life was like before the Shattering,” Cedric said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “After all, it isn’t as though it affected you.”

Elyria pressed her lips into a flat line. The group lapsed into a tense silence. “Regardless,” she finally said, “what does any of this have to do with the Crucible or the Arbiter or Ev—or any stars-damned thing relevant to our present situation?”

Cedric did not miss the way she stopped herself from saying Evander’s name aloud. How she hadn’t said it at all in the time since the Crucible claimed his body.

“I believe we were just about to get to that, weren’t we, Sir Thorne?” said Nox. “You did just bring up the Shattering, after all.”

Cedric grimaced. “Right. So, the humans were unhappy. The realm was technically united. But in reality it was nearly as divided then as it is now. And the celestials, for all their original intentions for a happy, whole, and prosperous Arcanis, turned a blind eye to the suffering of more than half its people. All but one of them. ”

“Aurelia,” Elyria whispered.

“Yes. The Guardian of Balance was not blind to the injustices happening in the world, to how distinctly un balanced its people had become. And so, she broke her oath. She interfered.”

Elyria’s eyes narrowed. “She sided with you.”

“She wanted to give humanity a leg to stand on,” Cedric shot back, voice insistent. “She granted us knowledge of how to wield the land’s mana.”

“How to leach it, you mean,” Elyria grumbled.

Cedric rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but Nox beat him to it. “Thus, she earned humanity’s devotion. Now, if nature would not bless humans with magic, they would bless themselves.”

“Yes,” said Cedric, nodding. “And it worked. Things became...better, for a time.” He bit the inside of his lip, something akin to shame bubbling up from his gut. “But though Aurelia sought balance, eventually some would— one would—take advantage of her gift. Would twist it for his own gain. For it was not balance that he sought, but power.”

“Malakar.”

There was something about the way Elyria said the name that made a shiver run down the back of Cedric’s neck. Not reverence. Not fear. A quiet rage; something that felt a little bit like vengeance.

But before he could call it out, her cool mask slipped into place. It was the first time she’d donned it since before the third trial, and something about it made a sudden, bone-chilling cold take Cedric over. Like even the kernel of heat kindling in his own chest was sucked away by her veil of indifference.

Cedric took a breath before continuing. “Yes. A trusted advisor to the king, Malakar could wield mana like no other human. More than a sorcerer, more than a sage, it was like mana filled his very veins. And eventually, he came to wield what did flow through those veins as if it was mana.”

“Ye speak of blood magic,” Thraigg said, and though he didn’t mean to, Cedric found himself rubbing idly at the spot in the center of his chest where Belien had struck him.

Nox ran an indigo finger along one of their horns, nodding thoughtfully.

“It corrupted him,” Cedric continued. “And soon, even as powerful as he became, as his followers became, it wasn’t enough. Most humans resented Arcanians and their innate magic, but none more than Malakar. He considered King Juno a traitor for having married Daephinia. Thought their mixedborn daughter’s existence made a mockery of our suffering. And so, he plotted their fall.”

“And started a war.” Elyria said it matter-of-factly. Emotionless. Her detachment only made shame burn hotter in Cedric’s cheeks. She’d fought in the war. Had killed many in the war. Had become “the Revenant” because of the war.

It was the Revenant who spoke now, Cedric was sure.

He swallowed hard, determined to finish despite the knot forming in his stomach. “Technically, the war came after. Malakar plotted against the crown. He assassinated the king and the young princess. And in her grief, Queen Daephinia’s rage split the realm in three. That marked the beginning of the War of Two Realms.”

“Which you lost.” Again, spoken in that detached, emotionless voice. Nothing haughty or proud about it—it was not a boast.

Cedric almost wished it was.

He forced a laugh in a desperate attempt to pull some of that quickfire wit he felt he knew so well from her. “Well, not me , of course. I didn’t lose anything. Not even my grandparents would have been alive at this point.”

She blinked at him.

He blinked back.

The tension in the air pulled so taut, Cedric half wished he would combust again, just for the distraction.

It was Thraigg who finally snapped it, his voice gravelly and rough when he said, “I still don’t get what the bleeding fuck this has to do with anything.”

Nox smiled—a sharp, catlike grin. “We’re almost there, but if it would help, I can speed the rest along?”

“Gaia’s tits, yes. Please .”

“Fine. As Malakar’s power rose, Aurelia realized her mistake. Saw what had become of her generosity and sought to fix it. So, for the second time, she defied her fellow celestials and interceded—this time, for the other side.”

Cedric’s ears perked up. This was one aspect of the story he was not as well versed with.

“As the ultimate symbol of balance, she crafted an artifact, fusing it with her own power, as well as that taken from Arcanian and human alike.”

Nox paused, as if for dramatic effect, and it took all of Cedric’s willpower not to roll his eyes. He glanced at Elyria, hoping to see a similar expression on her face. But she simply watched the nocterrian, expectant but patient. Cedric frowned.

“The Crown of Concord,” Nox finally said, “designed for just one person. A gift for the living proof that harmony between the peoples of Arcanis could exist.” Another pause. “The mixedborn princess, Selenae. Prophesied to bring everlasting balance—true peace—to the land.”

“The crown is a celestial-forged artifact?” Cedric clenched his teeth to keep his jaw from going slack.

“Indeed. Something that was only discovered at the culmination of the final battle between Daephinia and Malakar, when the queen’s sacrifice revealed its true nature.” Nox’s crimson gaze narrowed on Elyria, appraising her. “You were there, were you not? You should know better than anyone that the kind of power that burst from the crown upon its Shattering could only have been celestial in origin.”

Elyria was still as a statue.

Scratching idly at their horn, Nox continued. “What do you think made the other celestials so angry they would banish Aurelia from their ranks?”

Cedric drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I thought she was exiled for siding with humans in the first place.” He didn’t give voice to any of the other dozen thoughts running through his head, starting and ending with what either the humans or the Arcanians could do—would do—after winning the crown. What might happen if either side wielded celestial power. What might happen if that power fell into the wrong hands.

Nox shrugged.

“How do you know all this?” Elyria asked, a bit of that familiar color returning to her voice, to Cedric’s relief .

“How does anyone learn anything?” Nox said.

“That’s not an answer,” Cedric grumbled.

Elyria stood. “Well, thanks for the history lesson, Tenebris, but I still don’t see how this has anything to do, nor how it will help, with our current predicament.”

“Do you not?” Nox looked amused.

“Spit it out.”

“Where exactly do you think Aurelia was banished to ?”

“I don’t?—”

“I believe it was a rhetorical question,” came a chorus of voices, speaking as one.

Cedric nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound. The voice was not ringing in his mind. It was in his ears. It was in the room.

He turned toward the source of the noise. To the white-robed figure standing directly in front of the doors at the far side of the chamber, hood no longer drawn, face no longer hidden.

“Hello, champions,” she said, something forlorn folded into the layers of her voice.

Zephyr gasped. Thraigg’s mouth dropped open. Elyria had frozen mid-step.

Tenebris Nox smiled. “Hello, Aurelia.”