Page 56 of The Garnet Daughter (The Viridian Priestess #3)

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

I step into the temple of Omnesis, still permitted into its invisible borders. The air smells like rain and the incense feeding the fire basins, which crackle in steady orange flames between the ornate pillars.

Omnesis stands with her regal back to me, wings tucked and gaze turned outward to the valley below her clifftop temple. I approach her slowly, taking measured steps as to not startle, but her ears twitch with each of my movements, likely alerted to my arrival the moment I folded here.

“How great the scales of the three worlds tipped when your name was called to be the next highest priestess,” she announces, still looking out into the darkness.

I carefully step to the ledge where her talons dig in and keep her balanced. “That is not my path.”

“What is your path?” Still, she does not meet my gaze as she addresses me, speaking in riddles and with condescension in her flat voice.

“Ferren is the second daughter . . . and I am the third,” I say without hesitation.

Her head finally tilts in my direction, her illuminated, floating eyes watching me, blinking and reflecting in the pool below them. “Is this the reason for your return? For worldly confirmation?”

“You said you could not tell me things that will tip the scales from the knowledge of knowing, but I am certain.”

“Before I do, tell me how you have come to this.”

“The voice I heard, Ferren has heard it too in a way, felt it. It is a god speaking. She does not know the language of the gods, but I do.”

“Rare among your kind.”

“I do not have a kind.”

“Humans,” she clarifies as if humoring me.

“I thought the voice was calling out to me on Frith, but it was luring me here, herding Ferren and me together.”

She sighs and looks back out at the vast, inky landscape. “You have your answer.”

It is the confirmation I require. I held a small hope that she would deny my claim, but it is undeniable. The restlessness I felt, the desperation to find purpose, to fill a need I did not know I had, those feelings were imprinted on me.

I wipe away tears. Suddenly, the words I said to make Ferren feel better about where she received her gifts fall to ashes at my feet.

“What now? Do I become something evil? A daughter in his image?” I plead over a gulping sob.

Omnesis observes me again with fascination.

“There have been many daughters of First Son, as he tried during each conjunction, but none of them were evil. I have not met one touched by his darkness until this one, and you certainly are not. First Son needs his three daughters for a purpose, a way of life he and his followers believe in. Each side sees the other as evil. Truthfully, it means very little, fox and hare, dawn and dusk, both serving an opposing purpose.”

“You will not help us?” I set my jaw, hearing how apathetically she is speaking of both sides, to her we are drops in a bucket, sloshing back and forth.

“I cannot take a side, only right the tilted world after a war is over. I can only maintain the rhythmic ebb and flow.”

“And if it tilts too far in one direction, an irrevocable shift, what then?”

“Hear me, I do not desire peace. I am the push and pull between the balance and imbalance, the dance that sways between them, ever correcting its course. If peace fell upon the three worlds, I would have very little to do.”

“I freed you, Omnesis! Surely, you can aid me. Your own scales tilt in my favor.”

A slow smile slashes across her face, exposing sharp, amused teeth. Even if she agrees, I can’t trust her. The veil she walks behind does not work in my world.

“What does my liberator request?”

“For you to consider how imbalanced the world will be if an entire city is leveled because First Son’s regime is looking for his daughters.”

“Leave the human city. First Son needs two more daughters and is drawn to the signal you give off when you are united, just as the stones.”

“Separate,” I whisper.

“I will help in ways I am permitted, but you must be willing to fulfill your own destiny, Calliape of Frith. I glimpsed your emptiness when you knew it was Ferren, too blind to see it was you as well, the one who travelled across the sands of the birthlands for answers. Despite whose daughter you are, if you knew who you truly were, what was written in stardust long before the first of your line, you would be dancing under the moonlight like a child.”

August hasn’t let go of my hand since I folded back to the fleet ship.

I trace the lines of his knuckles and the silver scars that cover the top, calloused and warmly grounding.

The first time I visited Omnesis’s temple, she made sure he came with me, revealing to me how every cell in my body was calmed by his presence.

It must be true because holding his palm firmly prevents me from floating away, or rather dissolving into the space between.

Both Ferren and 99 pace the living space, going over the voice we both heard, when and what it sounded like. I run through every detail of what Omnesis said, but still they pepper me with questions, all pointing to the same thing but asked in various ways.

“Is it possible our gifts will fade after the conjunction, if they are not of First Mother?” Ferren asks, kicking out the skirt of her black dress as she crosses the room.

“That, I am not certain.”

“Will all of this end when the conjunction does?”

“Omnesis did not say.”

“You didn’t ask!” she snaps, but then a betrayed look crosses her face from her own doing. “I’m sorry.”

“Omnesis doesn’t answer questions like we do. Only divulges some information.”

August lets out a rumbling sigh. “Are we still under the assumption it is lying? Because I have to say, I saw the thing. It went through a lot of trouble and dramatics to let us into its temple just to lie. Doesn’t seem likely.”

Ferren nods. “When Calliape showed me the voice in her mind’s eye, any doubt I was clinging to faded, and I don’t think 99 had any doubts to begin with.”

He shakes his head to confirm his unwavering stance then says, “First Son has secured one of the women he is seeking already. You said Omnesis claimed both of you give off some sort of signal.”

“Like the stones do when they are together, a beacon of sorts, I believe.”

“We are luring him in?” Ferren looks horrified.

“He knows we are here. He could level the city to get to us.”

“We won’t let that happen,” August tells me firmly.

“How many Viathan commanders, Estate guards, and priestesses will die ensuring that?” I direct my question sternly at 99.

“Our intel on First Son’s motivations has only pivoted. There was always going to be a battle.” He positions himself with his back against a metal support beam, giving Ferren free range to pace and worry as he stands with his arms crossed as if hoping his stillness will calm her.

“But now it’s personal, my friend. You feel it and so do I. It changes the way we fight,” August says.

“I am afraid you are correct,” 99 agrees.

Ferren steps in front of him, silently communicating through their tether, a habit they both use to filter each other’s thoughts before speaking aloud.

I have never minded. The moments they have gone silent and spoke through their unique connection has always been an opportunity for August to speak to just me.

Many times, he has pulled me in closer and whispered what he thinks about the past problems we have faced, being sure to ask my opinion and carefully consider it.

But right now, he is as quiet as the others, worry plastered between his brows, perhaps thinking this is another dangerous impasse and I will retreat from him, so I squeeze his hand to capture his attention.

When he looks at me with inquisitive, bright eyes, I forget how to speak eloquently. “This doesn’t change anything . . . between us. We stick together.”

He brings the back of my palm to his lips, peering up at me through thick lashes. “That is good to hear, but I only have your safety on my mind. We’re not leaving each other’s side, but you and Ferren . . .”

The sudden sound of Ferren halting in the middle of the metal floor captures my attention. She is wide-eyed and glaring at August as if he has struck her.

“Ferren,” August starts gently and reaches out for her hand. “Please sit.”

“I can’t.” She looks between us. “Is that what you all think? That we should separate?”

“Omnesis said it would be safer if we left the city,” I explain again carefully. “She said First Son has been drawing us together.”

“No, you are my friend, not because he has forced us together, Calliape. We are family because we choose it.” She points an angry finger downward to accentuate her point and waits until I nod my head in agreement before she resumes.

“He will try to take you both during the conjunction, when his power is greatest and his followers the most devout,” 99 states.

“His people love him, but they might hate us more,” August mutters. “I would bet his allies joined his cause because they want the Estate toppled. He is using their hatred to get what he wants as well.”

“If he is coming here and we leave, what will happen to the city? Will it still be attacked, or will he go after our ships?” I ask.

“We can defend ourselves in the sky. But we have better prepared for a land battle, using the Estate’s ward as part of our defense. One of you should leave, disperse the risk.”

“One stays as bait, and the other could be attacked in the sky?” Ferren finally sits. “I can’t leave you, 99, and I know you have to stay, so I will too.”

“If we need bait, then I should stay. I’m the only one who can fold to safety at the last moment. I could draw him in. Perhaps he wouldn’t even know you were gone, Ferren.”

“Neither of you are bait,” 99 cuts in harshly.