Wings of Fire (The Obsidian Order Book 4)

by Katerina Martinez

  What the fuck have I done?

  “What you were supposed to do,” came a voice, soft and feminine, distant but also close to my ear.

  My heart lurched into my throat, and I stopped walking. “Mother?” I called out.

  “Come closer, Seline,” she said. “You’re almost there.”

  I wanted to ask her more questions. I wanted to figure out where I was, what I was meant to be doing, and whether she was real or just a figment of my imagination. Instead, I kept walking, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. If following the sound of her voice was something I would regret doing, then I was sealed to that fate.

  There was no going back now.

  I kept walking, only now it felt like I was floating. The curtains fluttered as I sailed past them, the air felt warm and smelled like the summer, somehow. And at the end of the tunnel, someone was standing there. Someone lithe, and slender, and draped in sunlight. Someone wearing a long, white dress. Someone with a set of gorgeous white wings at her back. Someone who looked a great deal like the person I saw when I stared into the mirror. Someone I’d lost a long time ago and never thought I’d see again, except for in painful dreams.

  The last few curtains parted, and I saw my mother standing before me. She was radiant, a vision of the divine. There wasn’t a single hair out of place, not a blemish on her skin. She stood in the center of a circular room, with a huge, vaulted ceiling held up by massive, white, marble pillars. Behind her were five chairs, although they were more like thrones.

  These gargantuan golden things were arranged in a half-circle along the far side of the room. Each was identical to the other, except for one feature. On their crowns, each throne had a stone; one blue, one green, one was purple, another gold, and another blackened red.

  My mother smiled at me from where she stood and stretched her hand. “Take it,” she said, her voice a delicate whisper, as if raising it would cause offense to the world itself.

  I couldn’t believe my own eyes. Was I dead? Had it finally happened? This place looked a lot like the heaven humans were always talking about; all brightness and gold, and people with massive wings at their backs.

  Hesitantly, I reached for her hand and took it. It was real. Warm. Soft… everything I remembered. A shudder moved through me. She was there, standing right in front of me. My mother, the woman who gave birth to me, who raised me, who taught me to be strong and find my calling, my place in the world; whatever it was.

  “How is this…?” I said, my words trailing off.

  “You said the words,” she said.

  “I… did. Am I dead?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “No.”

  “Are you… real?”

  “I am real.”

  “I don’t understand. Rey said—”

  “—Rey told you the truth.”

  “So, you’re…”

  Her eyes saddened. “I have moved beyond the mortal plane and come here, to this place.”

  I had to skirt around the issue of her being dead. I didn’t think I could talk about it without breaking down entirely. “What is this place?” I finally asked.

  “This is the chamber of the Gods… and it has been waiting for you.”

  “Waiting for me to say the words.”

  “Yes. I could not have known the rift would seal your memory away when I relinquished my power and begged the Gods to send the stones to you. I had hoped you would come to this place much sooner, before…” she paused, but I could sense the words hanging in the pause she’d created.

  “Valoel.”

  My mother lowered her head. “My poor child. I took the shame of what I had done to my grave. Nobody but he and his father knew the truth. I wanted better for him… I could not have known what would happen to him.”

  “I’m sorry… I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through.”

  “It’s because of me that he’s in pain, and it’s because of me that he’s using that pain to hurt others.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I wanted to help him.”

  She turned her bright blue eyes up at me. “He is beyond help. The Wrath stone has entirely consumed him… whatever was left of my son died long ago. Now the thing that is Valoel will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

  “What does he really want?”

  “To burn everything to cinders. If you do not kill him, countless people will die. No one will be safe, not even the divide between worlds will stop him.”

  Saying the words was painful for her. I could see it on her face, the hurt, the deep regret at knowing what had to be done. She was talking about her own son, a child she’d carried in her own belly, a child she’d given birth to and brought into the world. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through… at the same time, I also couldn’t truly believe it was her I was talking to.

  Was this really my mother, or was I inside of my own head, telling myself things I already knew?

  My mother shook her head. “No, dear daughter,” she said, “This is real. This is where you will come when it is your time to join us.”

  “Join… us?”

  She made a soft, sweeping gesture with her hand and, moving around the thrones, I saw more winged women. They were all dressed in white, all wearing gold necklaces, rings, bracelets… and they all had the same color hair. It was as white as snow. My mother’s hair. My hair. I’d never seen these women before in my life, and yet in some way they all looked familiar.

  They all felt like… family.

  “Are they?” I half-asked the question.

  “Our ancestors,” she said, “My mother, and my grandmother, and her mother, and her mother beyond her.” Each of the women arranged at the foot of the thrones smiled in turn. “We all said the words, we all pledged ourselves to the Gods, and so we all are graced with the opportunity to live out our afterlives here, together…”

  I hadn’t noticed, but my mouth had fallen open slightly. I closed it. “So, you’re saying… when I die…”

  “You’ll get to see us all again. You’ll take your place here, with us and the Gods… but right now is not your time. You have been brought here for two reasons. One, so you may see what has been promised to you; your ultimate reward for the responsibility you have chosen to take. And two, so that you may sign your name there, beneath mine, and inherit your rightful power. You are a child of the Gods, Seline. Their blood runs in us, in you.”

  “What will happen to me? After, I mean…”

  My mother gave me a smile I hadn’t seen with my own eyes in over a decade. A smile I’d forgotten for the longest time. “Come,” she said, “The Gods are waiting.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  My family, my extended, ancestral family, all stepped aside as I approached the thrones. There were so many of them present, maybe a hundred women, maybe more. Each had a smile and a comforting nod for me, some sign of encouragement, some offer of reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

  As my mother approached the thrones, the stones on their crowns began to glow, and hum. That hum became a melody that slowly rose high enough to move through the open chamber and touch every corner of it. The stones weren’t only singing, they were harmonizing with each other, creating a beautiful ballad of sound no human instrument could ever reproduce.

  Shimmering orbs of light descended on the thrones, each in a color to match the stones attached to them. I watched the balls of light expand and shrink, expand and shrink, getting larger every time they grew in size. Slowly, these incredible, glittering orbs began to take shape, filling the seats they were descending upon.

  My insides shifted and twisted. My entire body warmed at the sight of these half-invisible creatures, these Gods, as they slowly pushed themselves into existence, becoming more and more real with each passing second. My mother knelt, as did all of the women in the room. I followed them, kneeling and dropping my head low enough that I wouldn’t be able to look at them directly.

  I could hear my mother speaking,
praying to the Gods, thanking them for being here, for blessing us with their presence. I almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. I remembered clearly hitting my head and passing out. Did that mean I was still lying on the vault floor, unconscious? Was all of this going on in my own mind? Or had I disappeared the moment I hit the ground, only to be flung across worlds to wherever this place was?

  What was Draven thinking? What was Rey thinking? Neither of them could reach me, wherever I was. Draven had promised he would be there, by my side, no matter what. But he wasn’t here now, when needed a little reminder that I was, in fact, still alive—still with them on Earth.

  The ground started to vibrate, like it had its own electrical current. I wanted to turn my eyes up, but instinct told me to keep them low to the ground—keep them down until my mother stopped talking. She was praying, I could tell; being reverent to the Gods. When she said my name, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing up slightly, casting my eyes across to the other side of the room.

  There were beings sitting on those thrones, now. I could see their legs, some slender, some muscular. My heart started to race, my palms started to sweat, and my chest tightened.

  “Rise, now, child,” a deep, booming voice called out, a voice so powerful I wouldn’t have been able to resist it even if I’d wanted to. Not that I did. That would’ve been dumb.

  I got to my feet, slowly turning my eyes up at the thrones, and there they were, these larger than life beings surrounded in shimmering auras of light and color. These were creatures that looked like Aevians only because it was going to be more comfortable for my mind to accept them as such, rather than to see them for what they really were.

  Wisdom, Hope, and Tenacity appeared to me as women; gorgeous, stunningly perfect women wearing elegant, silken dresses to match the color of their stones. The wings at their backs were long and tall, full, and shivering with pearlescent colors. Their eyes blazed with the light of a thousand suns, one green, one blue, one purple—and they were all fixed on me.

  Courage and Wrath, however, were muscular men, though the word muscular probably didn’t cut it. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen real men with bodies as exquisitely toned and muscle-bound as theirs. Courage had long, flowing, golden hair, while Wrath wore jet back locks that hung around his shoulders. His eyes blazed deep red, his face was twisted into a scowl, and around him, the very air itself seemed to vibrate and shake, like his very skin was scalding hot.

  My mother stepped aside and asked me to walk toward her, extending her hand toward me. I approached and then took it, standing beside her in the middle of a large circle at the center of the room. The circle lit up around me, symbols and sigils glowing up from out of the ground. I couldn’t help but look at them as the light cascaded around me; looking up at the Gods was too much.

  “You have said the words,” Courage said.

  “Go on…” my mother whispered.

  I turned my eyes up at him, but it was like staring into the sun itself. I couldn’t hold his eyes. “I have,” I said.

  “But you do not possess all of the stones.”

  “I don’t. Two of them were stolen.”

  “Brother…” Wrath’s voice was forced, like he was speaking through gritted teeth. “He defiles the power of my gift as we speak, desecrates the stone’s true purpose. What have you to say for yourself on this?”

  “I… I don’t…” I was pretty sure I was about to start arguing with a God. I hesitated at first, but then I decided to call on a little courage of my own. “He took it,” I said, “I couldn’t stop him.”

  “Because you are weak. Too weak to wield the stone. What makes you think you can sign your name here, next to us?”

  “I’m not weak,” I snapped.

  “You dare speak to me like that, insolent child?”

  “Let her speak,” came Wisdom’s voice, cool and calm, but authoritative. “Tell us, child… tell us what you intend to do.”

  I looked up at her, and immediately found myself awestruck at how perfect she was. She looked like every beautiful woman I had ever seen, and also like none of them. It wasn’t that her features would change as I looked at her, but more like my mortal brain couldn’t fully process what I was seeing.

  “I have to find him,” I said, “I have to find him, and then I have to take the stone back. Both of them.”

  “He is powerful, your half-brother. He possesses the Wrath stone. With it alone, he is strong enough to defeat you, if you were to be given our blessing.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I have to… what?”

  “You must prove yourself to us,” Courage said.

  “But… I said the words?”

  “Saying the words brought you here, but now you must earn the right to wield our power.”

  “If you had all of the stones, it would be different,” Tenacity finally spoke, her purple eyes boring into me. “But you do not.”

  “I have three,” I said.

  “Three is not enough,” Wrath hissed. “You must have all five stones. Only then can you sign your name here.”

  I shook my head. “No…”

  “No?” Wrath stood, now, and the entire room quaked. “No? You dare stand before a God and say no?”

  “I do,” I said, though my hands had started to tremble a little. “I have been through all the hells and back to get here. I’ve done everything that was asked of me, but I can’t finish this until I have your blessing. I need your power if I’m going to retrieve Wrath and Tenacity and bring them all under my protection again.”

  “You should have thought of that before you wasted our time.”

  “Settle down,” Courage said. “There is no need for this.” It was difficult to keep my eyes on him, but I almost sensed something of a twinkle in his burning, golden eyes.

  “She comes to us with only three stones,” Wrath growled, “We cannot give her our blessing. There are rules.”

  “Rules are meant to be broken,” Wisdom said, “In breaking them, new, better rules can be put into place.” She looked at me. “Child, do you think you are up to this task?”

  “I know I am,” I said, “I can get the stones back.”

  “The last time you faced your half-brother, the confrontation did not go in your favor.”

  “That’s why I need this blessing, this power. I’m begging you. I know I can put everything right again if you’d only believe in me.”

  I’d never said those words aloud before; I’d never asked anyone to believe in me. Saying the words made me quake harder than being scolded at by Wrath itself. I was shaking. My knees were getting weaker by the second. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stand for much longer. And then, Hope spoke.

  “I believe,” she said, her voice low, and innocent. Almost like a child’s voice. “I believe in you, Seline. I believe in your own, inner power. Your strength. With our blessing, I believe you will achieve what is required of you, and more. I believe you will truly be a great custodian of these gifts we have imparted upon your kind.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you for your kind words,” I said, “I don’t know how… I fit into any of this. For the longest time, I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know where I came from. I now know I have a duty to you, to my mother, to these stones, and I accept it freely. I will take this responsibility back with me, and I will make sure your gifts are not misused any further.”

  “That is all I needed to hear,” Courage said, raising one of his hands. “Come forward, child, and write your name where it belongs.”

  My mother handed me a feather quill. “It’s time,” she said.

  Nodding, I took the quill and walked toward the throne. The heat coming off him was immense, and he was easily twice my size. I felt small compared to him, like dust to a ball of fire. But I wasn’t small. I only had to say those words to myself once before I believed them. Maybe it was the presence of Hope, and Courage, or maybe I was just seeing what was always there; that strength I’d always had.

>   As I reached the throne, a platform raised itself out of the ground. On it was a book, thick with pages and perfectly bound. It opened on its own, the pages flicking as if they were being pushed along by a phantom wind. Flecks of golden light sparkled off the pages as they spun, until finally the spine settled, and I was presented with a page of names.

  Each name had been written in a beautiful, calligraphic style I was pretty sure I couldn’t match. Not with my chicken scrawl. Slowly I read the names, following them until, finally, I found my mother’s name. The last name written into the throne.

  It occurred to me then that, until now, I hadn’t known her name. I hadn’t said it once, I hadn’t heard it in my dreams, I hadn’t felt it trying to punch a hole in the wall that had been keeping me away from my memories. It was like her name was gone. Her name, the name of my city, the name of my kingdom. They were all gone.

  Or, at least, they had been until now. It was as if reading her name had unlocked a door, allowing other important names to follow.

  Amalia was her name. Together we had lived in the city of Morning, floating high above the Amber Vale, on the continent of Uyunor. Once upon a time, these names had meant everything to me. They had symbolized my home, stability, what I knew as safe. Now they were words I associated with loss.

  Safe or not, New York was my home, now, and it was going to stay that way.

  Swallowing the anxiety, I put the quill to the page and wrote my name into it. The feather did most of the work, forcing my hand along a path that would see the word Seline etched perfectly onto it, in flowing gold text. The word suddenly began to shine from inside, each letter flashing separately, and then the word as a whole.

  A wave of warmth suddenly filled me, a feeling almost like I was being lifted off the ground. Something was happening to me and around me, though I couldn’t understand what. My instinct was to call for my mother, but I bit my tongue. I was in the presence of Gods, and I’d just given a speech about how I would do what had to be done.