Page 42

Kiara

The moon is seen as a beacon of hope, yet it rises at a time devoted to nightmares and brutal truths. And the sun, while it provides a sense of safety, shines a light on the humans when they’re at their most cruel.

Excerpt from Asidian Lore: a Tale of the Gods

The world was white and bleached of all color.

Fog swirled around my boots, around my silk-clad trousers. I took a step, peering at the ground, trying to discern what I stood on, but I might as well have been walking on a cloud.

I could see nothing but the white glow surrounding me, and the only sounds were the whispering of prayers, the words too light and airy to make out.

Five more steps and I saw a staircase. The steps led up, higher than I could see, so steep it might as well have been a ladder. Wind whistled in my ears, the lilting melody a taunt of Dimitri’s lullaby. I began the climb, feeling adrift and numb.

Whatever this place was, it robbed me of a clear head.

I rose, higher and higher into nothing. I had to make it to the top, to the end of this stairway. To the possibility of saving Jude and myself.

Kiara. My name was whispered on a breeze of cloying blooms, rising above the gentle prayers, the thousands of voices all morphing into one lyrical song.

Gradually, the dense fog cleared.

A landing opened to a wall of purple stones, all crushed and glimmering, sparkling like vivid flames. It was stunning, otherworldly, but my focus lay on what hung before me.

An intricate silver mirror was affixed upon a wall, reflecting my wonder. Reedy vines and thorns wound around its frame, all twisting together seamlessly in an endless loop.

My breath caught. I looked…different. Not myself.

While stained, the silk corset and matching trousers hugged my frame, the material tailored specifically to my figure. My face belonged to that of a stranger, all made up and smokey, seductive almost. The girl in the glass smiled, seeming to like what she saw.

Yet I knew I frowned. Could feel the tug of my lips.

Enchanted , I thought. It had to be spelled, and I trusted nothing but my own magic.

On either side of the oval mirror hung two smaller replicas.

The one on the left appeared older, the material tarnished and the surface mottled. On the right, the looking glass shined too brightly for me to see clearly. My eyes straining the longer I stared. I had to look away lest it blind me.

My name sounded again, and I spun around. No one was there. Just the fog.

As if drawn by an invisible thread, I wandered to the mirror on the left, craving to look upon its faded surface, to peek beyond the speckled silver, and discover what truths it hid.

Before my eyes, a scene played out, wisps of smoke slithering around a lone hooded figure in the night. Atop a cliff, he stared out over a modest village, his back to me.

The moon was his sole companion, even the stars not deigning to come out and play. I couldn’t help but feel his melancholy as I looked at him, steadfast in his watch, like he aimed to protect the people sleeping soundly at his feet.

The image shuddered and blinked out, replaced by a new one, of the same broad-shouldered man. He must’ve waited until dawn, because when the orb I knew to be the sun rose in the sky, his shoulders slumped, and he tilted his chin down, away from the village.

A whirl of smiling faces flashed, leaving the man and his lone watch behind. I witnessed people from all over Asidia, their eyes twinkling as they mouthed Raina’s name. They loved the sun and felt safe below its welcoming presence.

The next scene was the man once more, his features still obscured, night cloaking the realm and drowning it in darkness. He clenched his hands into tight fists, and I recognized the power emanating from him, shadows curling up and along his back. They formed the prettiest wings I’d ever seen—glittering black that quivered and swayed, a metallic sheen giving them a dreamlike quality.

Silver and purple light seeped from his form, trickling down into the slumbering town, through windows and under the cracks of doors. Instead of bright faces, I saw sleeping forms, soft smiles on their lips whenever a spark of the man’s power graced them, soaking into their skin.

Dreams . He was granting them dreams.

Night transformed to day, and the sun appeared, the people shucking off sleep and rising to praise the sun once more. They bowed to statues of Raina, praying to her, lending their devotion.

This cycle repeated, and it felt like years until the man returned and despondency shrouded his entire frame, his wings drooping and dull.

I sensed his grief deep in my bones, his loneliness. He wasn’t appreciated for the comfort he provided. The dreams he gifted. The man was overlooked, every night, and still, he sought to bring the people peace once their eyes had fluttered shut.

The image on the mirror’s surface fell away, and now only my face stared back at me.

The God of the Moon was misunderstood. From what I’d seen, he cared deeply for the people, only to get nothing in return. Over the centuries, he had grown bitter, and a part of me didn’t blame him.

I traveled to the mirror on the far right, yet no images played out like before, the glare it cast too bright. It forced me to return to the center.

Coils of black shadows circled behind my back, my face growing into a distorted blur.

Squinting, I stepped closer still, nearly nose-to-nose with the glass. Something was taking shape alongside me…or rather, someone .

I jolted backward. The hooded man had replaced me, his imposing figure taking up the entire frame of the mirror. He wore a cloak of satin, soft blue threads decorating the hems. I ached to see his face, but he never turned, just stared out into a growing sea of night, and while I sensed triumph radiating from his every pore, there was also a sense of fear. His neck tilted back as he gazed up at the sky, but it wasn’t the moon he sought…

Whispers belonging to a thousand voices—nearly identical to the ones flooding the temple now—all spoke at once, and the man raised his arms high, embracing them all. He captured them—even the ones speaking the names of the other gods—the incandescent luster he radiated growing more and more potent.

“He’s stealing prayers,” I murmured, confirming what we already knew. Seeing it before my eyes was another thing entirely.

And yet, he didn’t feel evil. Not in the way that Patrick had once he revealed his true self.

This enchanted mirror bestowed emotions, not merely images, and this enigmatic god emanated a true sense of purpose and love.

I tore my focus from the mirror’s surface. The Moon God wasn’t set on harming us. He thought he was going to save us all, and in the process, he would finally be loved.

Something glimmered just out of sight.

A single black gem. It stood out among all the purple stones and glass embedded in the wall. Without thought, my fingers traced its smooth facets, and a shudder worked its way through me, the hairs on my nape rising.

The scars spider-webbing my hands and arms matched the otherworldly gem, and my blackened fingertips flashed with an iridescent hue as I dug my nails around the edges, trying to pry it from its rocky prison.

Powdery dust flew, and I inhaled a lungful of silt, but I pressed on, cursing until I yanked it free.

I held the peculiar stone that called to me in the most frightening of ways.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Shoving the stone into my pocket, I whirled around, adrenaline freezing my blood.

The King of Asidia stood five feet away, his silken white robes lending him an air of false purity. The notorious silver mask curved about his face, his pointed chin and thin lips the only visible features aside from his dull, clouded eyes.

I stifled a gasp, my pulse hammering at my throat.

Cirian may have been a pawn of the Moon God, but I hadn’t expected him to be here . In the god’s innermost chambers, hundreds of feet beneath the temple.

“King Cirian,” I snarled, his name like poison. “What are you doing here?”

His presence sharpened my thoughts, my true mission returning to me in a rush—this man aimed to kill me. To kill Asidia’s hope.

The king took a languid step in my direction, his narrowed eyes drifting to my pocket, the black gem concealed within. He tsk ed .

“That doesn’t belong to you,” he said, his voice colder than steel. “And here I thought you’d have died long before you reached this point. A shame, really.”

I advanced, my blade out and at his throat in the blink of an eye.

A twisted smile prospered on his lips.

“So quick to anger,” he chided. His voice sounded muffled now, as if he spoke from a distance. “What would your dear grandmother say if she saw you now? Aurora, I believe it was? Such a duplicitous traitor. If only I had gotten ahold of her before death took her soul.”

I flinched, but my grip didn’t waver. My grandmother hid many things from me, but I had to believe she’d done so for a reason. That she was fighting for the right side.

“What are you?” I didn’t need to clarify; we both knew what I meant. He could try and distract me with my grandmother’s name, but I wasn’t that naive.

“Are you asking if I am him ?” Cirian canted his head, dark hair tumbling over the silver of his mask. “I thought you already knew the truth.”

His arrogance made me want to carve out his larynx.

“Tell me the truth , then,” I seethed, my temper rising, my shadows slithering across my hands, winding around the fingers guiding the knife at his throat.

Whoever he was, this man had tortured and tormented Jude, and for that, he deserved an excruciatingly slow death.

I would deliver it. After I got answers.

“I am everyone and no one at all,” he replied. “I am a product of a dream.”

When his cackle rent the air, I lost the little control I had. My blade slipped, nicking the fragile top layer of skin. But he didn’t appear to care.

Or bleed.

“Don’t speak in riddles,” I snapped, eyeing where blood should be trickling free. “We’re well beyond games.”

Cirian made a thoughtful noise, a humming deep in his throat. My blade shifted deeper. Still, no blood rose.

“You know, it’s better this way,” he said, glancing around the room as if seeking an invisible audience. “He actually listens to the prayers and has answered more than any other immortal. Since Raina fell, he’s risen to the challenge, though all his hard work has hardly been appreciated. I hope that given time, the people will embrace the night as they should have ages ago. They’ll see all its beauty and the peace it could bring.”

“Peace?” I asked, my hand beginning to tremble. The sense of wrongness seized every muscle as his words settled over me. Cirian admitted my fears—he was a pawn. Just like me.

For some ridiculous reason, battling him felt safer. Easier than an unknown face hiding in the shadows.

“There hasn’t been a single war in decades,” Cirian continued. “Since he took control, the people have settled. The sun brought the humans delusions of power, whereas he brings them calm.”

How absolutely deranged. “It’s been peaceful because we’ve all been working to bring back the sun.”

Cirian sighed. “If that’s what you wish to believe.”

I shoved the blade farther, the skin beginning to flay at the edges of the incision. I pressed until black rot oozed, the viscous liquid trickling from the cut and bringing with it the aroma of death.

Flashbacks from the Mist and the masked men flooded my mind, my knees growing weak.

“R-raise your mask.” My command echoed…as did his ensuing laughter. “I said, raise your damn mask!”

When Cirian’s bitter laughter grew shrill, I made the decision for him, thrusting the gaudy silver from his face.

A scream ripped free from my throat as my nightmares became my reality. He had no face .

A black void of swirling ash churned where the mask had lain, the rest of his skin cracked and fractured. He was like a clay pot in an oven, the temperature too high. He chuckled still, as bits of himself fell to the ground, crumbling to even tinier pieces.

“I’m only the beginning,” he warned, his voice hollow.

He laughed while his torso splintered in half, one side sliding to the right. Black rot dripped to the floor, a squelching noise filling the air as his arms split off at the elbows.

His lean fingers creaked as they snapped off one by one, the sickening popping noises causing nausea to churn in my belly.

It was as if the mask was enchanted to keep alive the illusion of a living man. Now that I’d removed it, the twisted spell holding him together had been broken.

I watched in disgust as the King of Asidia disintegrated into a cloud of dust and brittle bones. Only foul-smelling black smeared the ground, covering the gray splinters of bone, the blood as foul and pungent as the masked men from the Mist.

A flare of searing hot light flashed behind me.

Spinning around, expecting another foe, I found only my own reflection. I stared into the largest mirror, my features stretched in horror. The silken clothes clinging to my body were drenched with black blood. It trickled down my cheeks. Slipped from my eyes. My ears. The corner of my mouth.

A soundless scream parted my lips. The girl wearing my face was a nightmare.

It’s not real , I thought. It’s not real.

The amber of my irises evolved into silver. Blood oozed from the corners of each eye, rivulets of black glancing down my cheeks.

It’s all in your imagination . You aren’t that thing .

I couldn’t turn away. My limbs were frozen, my stare held in place, unable to leave the polished surface and liberate myself.

The prayers I’d heard earlier came back in a nauseating rush, the cacophony of voices prompting me to thrust my palms to my ears, where that viscous blood flowed. The louder the voices became, the more my body trembled, and I fell, plummeting as an ear-shattering scream pierced the air.

I drowned in an overwhelming wave of prayers, and soon, I couldn’t separate one voice from the other. I suffocated in the thousands of pleas sent to the gods who couldn’t hear them even if they wanted to—

Because they’d been delivered here , to the Moon God’s temple.

People didn’t realize how precious a simple prayer could be. The unspoken words cast to the skies in times of need were born of pure and raw human emotion. They came from a part of a person’s very soul, and in that way, they maintained a life all their own.

Right then, staring into this mirror, it felt like I was peeking into a side of my soul that frightened me. And yet I couldn’t seem to gather the strength to muster a prayer myself.

A dull ache throbbed in my ribs, my chest, up to my shoulders. Night cloaked everything, and soon I was falling deeper into an abyss where my shadows lived and breathed.