Page 48 of The Sins of Silas (The Otacian Chronicles #2)

Chapter Forty-Eight

LENA

A fter my talk with Dani, I strode over to my father, who said parting words to his men before approaching me.

“We did it,” he said breathlessly. “So many years has this kingdom been corrupt…I can't imagine how it will grow.” He paused. “How are you doing?”

I smiled at him. “I'm holding up.” I nervously pulled at the hoop earrings in my ears, still awkward in his presence. My hand drifted to my side. “I’m going to attempt a spell…one that will bring some of my people to a place where others reside.” I paused. “My mother is there.”

His smell fell, his mouth parting as he exhaled.

“Would you…would you like to come with?”

He blinked rapidly, his eyes filling with tears as he smiled, nodding his head. “Yes, I would like that very much. ”

I beamed back at him. “Well then, fetch your things. We leave tonight.”

I wandered through the kingdom by my lonesome, wishing to get some answers to a question that had plagued me ever since I arrived. I angled my head toward the sign looming above an oak door.

The Artist's Guild.

I strolled in and was met with a smile that quickly vanished at the sight of my appearance.

I didn't care. I wasn't going to hide my ears here. I walked forward despite the woman's wide-eyed stare, scanning the various paintings, sculptures, and drawings displayed.

The worker—or owner, I supposed—crossed her arms over her chest as if she was cold. “What can I do for you?” she asked nervously, tucking her green hair behind her rounded ear.

I kept my eyes on the paintings as I wandered around the spacious room. “A friend of mine had a piece commissioned here. It was called 'Rebirth'.” I turned to her, noticing her flinch.

I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“D-do you know the artist's name?” she asked.

I shook my head, eyes trailing over the masterpieces once more. “Unfortunately, no. I only remember the description: Death by a lover's fire. ”

To that, her caramel-colored eyes grew even more expansive. “Oh…oh Gods.”

I cocked a brow at her just as she rushed out from behind her desk. “The piece you speak of…my brother painted it.”

“Your brother?” I asked, unsure why she was acting panicked.

She nodded toward a room in the back. “Follow me.”

I hesitated but decided to obey. There was nothing she could do to harm me. She'd be a fool to try.

I followed, keeping a tasteful distance until the woman stopped. She pointed her delicate hand to a painting before her, one hung higher than the others.

I glanced underneath at the engraving. ASAEL NEFELI was listed as the artist.

The painting was nearly identical to the one in the castle, although instead of orange and red hues surrounding the dark smoke, the flame was white. Silver sparks appeared to be shooting out from the chaos, sparkling like starlight.

White flame and silver sparks.

My eyes flickered to the name of the painting, and my heart ceased beating when I beheld the description.

Purification: The rise of the phoenix.

“What the fuck,” I breathed, then shifted toward the young woman, narrowing my eyes. “Why did your brother name his painting this? What does this all mean?”

“I don't know,” she said calmly. “A dark-haired man came into our business fifteen years ago. I was just a little girl at the time—my brother was only fourteen. He was a prodigy, far more skilled than anyone his age.” Her weary gaze flitted to the artwork. “It was his first major commission. The man said it was for his daughter: The Queen of Otacia.”

My mind reeled, remembering Ryia's words from all those years ago.

“ This piece was gifted to me by my father. He had it commissioned by a talented painter in Faltrun. He named the piece Rebirth.”

He named the piece.

“Who was the one who named the pieces?” I asked.

“Ramiel, the father of the Queen, named them. Asael was just told what to paint.”

My brow furrowed, bouncing back to the sister painting. “Why aren't they together?”

She shrugged. “He insisted one stay here—paid quite a bit of gold to do so. Said it was never to be sold.”

I studied the painting, searching for a sign, anything.

“Where is your brother now?” I pressed.

“He lives in Halsted…gave up painting to join their forces last year.”

That caught my attention. “He gave up all of this to be a soldier for another kingdom?” I asked skeptically.

Her whisky eyes remained on mine. “It makes no sense, does it?” Her eyes flitted back to Purification. “ My brother loved painting. It was his passion, but when Ramiel returned last year, asking to speak with Asael privately, my brother returned pale-faced and trembling. Something he had said rattled him enough to have him packing for Halsted that evening.”

Ramiel…it sounds like this man knows something.

My head spun as I tried to remember the kingdom Ryia hailed from. Was it Halsted? No…perhaps Kalrael?

Silas would know this information. He never spoke to me of his grandfather, but any knowledge would be beneficial at this point.

“What is your name?” I asked her, softening my tone.

She hesitated. “Dagne. Dagne Nefeli. ”

I nodded, eyes sliding to the painting one last time.

Death by a lover's fire…rise of the phoenix…

“My name is Lena Daelyra,” I told Dagne after a moment of pondering.

“I know.”

My brows knitted together, and I looked back at her.

“The Queen's father—Ramiel—told Asael of your name.”

“How? I've never spoken to the Queen's father before.”

But perhaps Ryia had told him about me…

“What did he say about me?” I urged, stepping toward her.

“He said you’d know of the paintings.” Her hands clenched the fabric of her dress. “And he told Asael to save you.”

I froze, my face dropping. “Save me? From what?”

She swallowed. “I don't know.”

“You can do this, Lena,” Dani assured.

I took a shaky breath, then began to draw the pentagram that evening. I etched the words Accipe corpus meum alibi in the Titharan language on the ground with chalk, and our destination, Mount Rozavar, written in the same language at the bottom of the circle.

After the bizarre experience at The Artist's Guild, I began my search for Silas, only to give up shortly after.

I still wasn't ready to face him. I knew he would persist, demanding I tell him what was wrong last night, and I wasn't ready for that conversation just yet. I wanted to be as emotionally stable as I could while attempting a type of magic I'd never used before.

He told him to save you.

It sounded to me like Ramiel was being spoken to by a seer. Perhaps Kayin? Then again, she would have told me if she'd spoken to him or warned me herself of a danger…right?

My stomach sank, thinking about how Igon had led Torrin to danger. Sent him to a place where he was enslaved for a year. Perhaps I'm supposed to suffer…perhaps Kayin knows that.

Godsdamn seers.

“So, she draws some symbols, says a few words, and boom, we’re there?” Waylon asked suspiciously, pulling me from my thoughts. Torrin, his parents, and several Mages watched as I drew.

Dani snorted. He was in male form this evening. “If only it were that simple. But, yes, in terms you’ll understand…something like that.”

“You have to draw from your magic,” I described, still working on the design. “Teleporting…it’s a type I’ve never done before.”

“And a Warlock taught you this?” His face paled as Dani smirked at him with his pupilless eyes, his arms crossed.

The Mages here stared curiously, having never seen a Warlock and a Mage working together. Certainly, never having seen a Mage utilize what was always believed to be Warlock magic.

I huffed when the design was complete, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand and then placing the chalk back in my bra. “Are you sure you’re comfortable trying this?”

He answered immediately. “I need to see her.”

I inclined my head, then situated myself inside the circle of symbols I drew, dusting my hands on my pants.

“Whoever wishes to travel with needs to be in physical contact with the spellcaster.” Dani grasped my hand, stepped into the circle, and then lifted a brow at my father .

Catching on, Waylon grasped my other hand. It was strange…his touch. Comforting, yet foreign. Familiar, yet not.

Torrin placed a hand on my shoulder, his parents following suit on my other, and a handful of others stepped inside the chalked symbol, putting their hands on my arms and legs wherever they could.

“Focus your magic and your energy toward Lena,” Dani instructed.

“H-how do we do that?” someone asked.

But I felt it, felt their energy transfer from their touch, the symbols below us, now glowing purple.

We were ready.

I took a deep breath, squeezing Dani and Waylon's hands, before reaching deep within myself.

I gave it my all as I chanted, Accipe corpus meum alibi.

The feeling of teleportation was like no other. I felt my power spike, felt the energy surge through me in an overwhelming rush. But in seconds, the grassy fields on Mount Rozavar were beneath my feet, the warm wind whipping around me and those who traveled with me. The sun was setting, the sky a bright orange.

The wind was knocked from me, and I gasped for air, falling to my knees. Torrin was instantly there, along with my father, making sure I was okay.

“It drains your magic significantly when traveling. She just needs a sec,” Dani said simply, stretching his arms .

Torrin rubbed my back and lightly patted it as I choked on the air. “Are you alright?” he asked nervously.

“Super,” I rasped, then laughed when I finally got my bearings.

Torrin chuckled, then helped me to my feet. The Mages of Ames examined us with widened eyes, in silence, before one of them cheered, “Our Supreme has returned!”

The crowd on the mountain bellowed with joy, and I grinned as I saw all of them appearing well and content. People I'd grown to care for over the past five years ran forward, hugging me, hugging Torrin, and gasping when seeing Tobias and Josie Brighthell after fifteen years.

Thankfully, because it required a portal to reach this mountain top in general, no one seemed surprised we just appeared, though looks of skepticism began to appear when people realized a Warlock was in their presence.

“Lena? Torrin?!”

I turned to my left to see Mother attempting to push through the crowd, teary-eyed with a grin. Sensing our impending reunion, the crowd parted, and we ran to each other, nearly crashing into one another as we hugged.

“My daughter,” she cried. “I have been so worried about you!” She pulled away, holding my face and checking for anything amiss. When satisfied, she looked at Torrin, who was now beside me.

“Hi, Minerva.”

She grinned widely. “I have so many questions.” She let out a winded laugh.

I bit my lip. “I think you’re about to have a lot more.”

Her brows furrowed at my comment, and I stepped away so she could see who stood just a few feet behind me.

My mother's jaw fell open, and a moment later, a whimper escaped her, her face crumpling as her hand shot over her mouth.

My father’s face mirrored hers. “Minerva.”

She choked on a sob. “Waylon.”

He rushed to her and pulled her into his embrace. She froze for a moment in utter disbelief before she wrapped her arms around him tightly, weeping into his chest.

“How?” she cried, pulling away after a moment. She turned her face toward me. “How?”

“He saved my life,” I said softly. “In Faltrun. It’s a long story.”

Her teary eyes went back to my father, craning her head to gaze up at him.

“I have spent the past twenty-four years missing you,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her pointed ear. Tears streamed down her face as his finger traced the pointed cartilage. “This would’ve never scared me away,” he whispered.

Her face crumpled again as she brushed her hand against his cheek. “I have missed you, Waylon. I am so sorry…” She began to cry again.

“We’ll give you some privacy,” I said softly, and Waylon gave us a grateful nod as we walked away, the two of them roaming off in the opposite direction.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Immeron striding up to greet us.

“Lena! You're back. Sooner than I imagined. It's perfect, though! I have a little something for Merrick.” He paused, his brows going together. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I beamed. “Gods, do I have much to catch you up on.”

It was comical watching Immeron's face shift and contort as I told him all of what had occurred in the past couple of months as we sat at his dining table. I told him of the Vampire encounter in Half-Life Pass and introduced him to Dani, telling him all about the Warlocks in Forsmont and how Mages could utilize their magic as our own. I told him about the apparent evolution of the Undead and the encounter with The Lord of the Shadows, including his desire to acquire the Weapon. I finished by telling him of the prophecy in Potestas Verae Maleficis , and how the Otacian crest and Asael's painting all pointed to it. By the time I was finished, the moon was high in the sky.

Immeron just stared at me with his jaw on the floor.

I rolled my ear piercings between my fingers. “Crazy, right?”

“I'm going to have a Godsdamn panic attack,” he muttered, and I chuckled. “One thing stuck out to me about this prophecy, though—specifically the painting.”

“Oh?”

He stroked his beard, eyes lost in thought. “You said white flame. That is Azrae’s power.”

My brows drew together. “Azrae? The God of Vengeance?”

“Indeed. All of the Gods and Goddesses had a special type of magic that belonged uniquely to them. Azrae’s was white flame. Valor was shadow manipulation. Celluna could bond souls, hence the Soul-Tie bond. Tithara had the power of chronokinesis—the ability to alter time. Ravaiana’s was always a secret, however. Or rather, no one had witnessed it to document it.” He shuffled in his seat. “Each God has their opposite. It’s a balance. Ravaiana is life, and Valor is death. Celluna is Love, and Tithara is Wisdom.”

“Mind versus the heart,” I mumbled.

Immeron nodded.

“But who is the opposite of Azrae?”

“Azrae is the most fascinating God, in my opinion. Other than Ravaiana’s power being unknown, more is unknown of Azrae than any of them. Some call him the God of Vengeance. Some the God of Justice.” He inhaled. “Some say the God of Balance. Which would make sense, considering his lack of a counterpart.”

“Yes, but the opposite of balance is chaos. There is still an opposite to that.”

Immeron shrugged. “We only know a mere fraction of the truth, I imagine.”

Withdrawing Potestas Verae Maleficis from my crossbody, I flipped to the pages containing the Warlock prophecy. Pointing to it, I handed it over to Immeron for a closer look.

“Purification…Rebirth…I feel as though those must be counterparts, considering how often they've been symbolized among one another,” he mumbled, brows drawn tightly as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Something about this all seems so familiar, yet I can't place why.”

“Igon gave me his compass,” I added, fetching it from my bag. “A pelican is engraved on it, and according to this book—" I plopped the other book Leroy gave to me down. “—pelican symbolizes sacrifice. And the spider…the symbol that the necromancer has begun etching on his victim's forehead…it stands for deceit.”

My thoughts wandered, going back to those damn paintings.

Death by a lover’s fire.

The rise of the phoenix .

Only through fire can the phoenix be reborn from the ashes.

It’s clear it is no regular fire, but Azrae’s fire. Who is his lover? The Goddess of Purification?

And where is the Weapon?

I scrubbed at my face, and Immeron chuckled. “Imagine what it was like for me all those years with a seer brother. Never fully saying what he meant.”

I laughed softly, but the sadness reflected in Immeron’s eyes made my smile fall.

Igon was dead, and Silas was the cause. Even if he knew it was coming, it was still a tragedy.

I swallowed, having one last thing to tell him about. “Ramiel—Ryia's father—apparently told Asael to save me. Sounds like a seer's message, no?”

“Indeed,” he replied, eyes scanning the Warlock text.

“As far as I'm aware, Igon hasn't been in Otacia…but Kayin has.”

“Kayin? Kayin…” His brows drew together tightly.

“Do you know her?”

He blinked, then shook his head. “The name sounds familiar, but I'm afraid not.”

“Igon told Torrin and me she was also a seer.”

I quickly gave him the rundown of my relationship with Kayin, telling him how I last spoke to her on this very mountaintop.

Immeron rested his elbows on the table. “So, you think Kayin and Ramiel are in cahoots?”

“Unless there's another seer I'm unaware of, which I suppose is possible. But considering Kayin is currently in Otacia, perhaps they are working together.”

He rubbed his jaw. “What is their end goal?”

I shrugged, falling back to rest on my chair. “No clue. At this point, I feel as though we are all pawns in a very complicated game.”