by Emily Wilson
“How did you know it was them?” Tripp asks, taken aback.
“It’s always them!” he roars. “Everything, from Belua’s death to the fall of Deadrun, it’s always them. Who else is stupid enough to even get involved? I should’ve just killed them when I had the chance. I had a shot at both of them.” He relaxes back, taking a slow drink of their strongest whiskey as he thinks back on both of those occasions. He’d let mercy and power combine into something that blinded him, but he won’t let that happen again. They’re more use to him dead than alive.
Though Tripp doesn’t respond, Syphon knows exactly what he’s thinking about. He can read the thoughts coming from his mind as clearly as if he were speaking them aloud — he’s doing a little reminiscing of his own, but to a time when Syphon wasn’t so cold. Such a time was so long ago now that Syphon barely remembers it at all, and he allows himself just a few moments to see himself through Tripp’s eyes before his inevitable snap.
He’s thinking about the day they first brought Zero to the Ruins. Syphon had been so excited — so eager to have another one of his brothers close to him that he’d gone all out. A feast, gifts, a welcoming ceremony grand enough to rival any, but he’d proved to be a deep disappointment. Wiry, annoying, and utterly incompetent, Zero caused more messes than he cleaned up, and that wasn’t something Syphon was looking for at the time, and it certainly isn’t something he’s looking for now. He’s got enough messes on his hands.
The Syphon in Tripp’s mind is laughing at the head of that feast table and drinking his fill as those he loved: Tripp, Six, Neena, Ecaeris — seeing her face even in a memory hurts — and some of their old friends swapped stories of adventure and big dreams. That Syphon looks like he’s got the entire world in front of him.
Tripp must sense him looking. “What happened, Syph? What happened to us, how did we get here?”
“You know what,” Syphon says quietly. “You were here for all of it. For Neena’s betrayal, for... what happened next.” The flash of anger he feels is drowned out by an immense wave of sadness, so he cuts the connection to Tripp’s mind off. He doesn’t need a reminder that the beautiful, perfect Ecaeris was taken from him. That she was by his side one day, making plans and talking about starting a family, and the next... “I wish I could’ve killed Belua myself.”
“Killing him would’ve been a mistake,” Tripp says bluntly. “He was keeping her somewhere. If you’d have killed him, we’d have never found her.”
“We still haven’t found her!” he hisses. “Do you see her anywhere? Have you spoken to her in these past seven years? Have you heard a single whisper of her whereabouts? Because I haven’t, no matter how many people I’ve questioned. He either killed her and dumped her body or she doesn’t want to be found. He’s been dead for months. If he was still holding her, she’d have gotten free. She’d have found me by now.”
Six offers him a piece of sweetbread, and despite his anger at his brother, he takes it with the ghost of a smile. It’s always been one of his favorites. “Sy, she’ll come back. She’s out there... somewhere. I can feel it.”
“Don’t,” he says as forcefully as he can, but the word doesn’t have its normal bite. She was the one good thing in his entire life, but he won’t allow himself to hope anymore. “If she is, there’s only one way to get her back and you know it. We have to take out the Videre and the Regnum... and then maybe Inais will find her for us. That’s the deal, it’s always been the deal. And what are we doing? Hiding out here in the desert like a couple of slimy lacranae.”
The sweetbread helps to calm his nerves, but he’s distracted enough by the taste that he forgets to keep blocking Tripp’s mind out. He gets another unwanted vision of the day he had to punish Neena — his most beloved sister. She’d betrayed him... betrayed them all, but he never meant to kill her. Scare her, yes... but never kill her. The Igneme powers he’d stolen for the task proved to be too new, too volatile, and Neena paid the ultimate price for his inability to control them. His hands shake as he remembers of his own accord how it felt to drop to his knees next to her burnt body, and how many times he’s had nightmares where her face becomes Ecaeris’. The likelihood that Belua killed her in a similar manner is too high, and it’s all his fault.
Everything is his fault.
“Syph?” Tripp calls softly. “We’ll do what we have to do to get Inais’ help, okay? We’ll find her. And ev-even if she’s gone—”
“Don’t say that.”
“Okay, but if she is... at least we can put her to rest. Now that Zero’s got his powers back, it’s possible he might be able to see her. Y’know... wherever she is.”
The thought of Zero doing anything useful with his Oculare powers is laughable. He hasn’t yet, and not one part of Syphon expects him to start now. “That won’t happen, but we’ve been dreamers before, haven’t we?” he asks, and just that question alone has his three brothers relaxing.
“We have,” Six agrees. “We can be dreamers again, you know. Maybe the Regnum could actually help us find her? Instead of Inais?”
Syphon looks to the sky, waiting for the god to suck Six right off the ground and into the void — but it doesn’t happen. He’s just as silent as always. “If you think the Regnum will truly help, then you haven’t been paying attention. They don’t do things for the good of others, only the good of the Regnum. They sat by while Melior bred our mother until it killed her. Do you really think they’d be willing to help us now, after everything?”
“No,” he mumbles, his shoulders slumping. “No, I don’t.”
“Then you know that we only have one choice. I’m going to offer you all a rare opportunity that will likely never come around again, so take it now. If you’re not with me, if you don’t believe fully in what we’re doing... then leave. Tripp can take you wherever you want to go and I won’t stop you. Run to Aleon and Teagon, run to your favorite lays, run to wherever you want. I won’t come after you.”
The offer makes his chest ache, but not one of his brothers even contemplates leaving. He hears trickles from each of their minds that progressively become louder, until the words spill out of their mouths at once. “We’re staying.”
Knowing they’re all still with him settles his resolve. They’d have taken the out if his cause wasn’t just, and he knows that every single one of them misses Ecaeris just as much as he does. Six might miss her a little more; she was the only one to ever show him true, unfiltered kindness. Part of Syphon knows it should’ve been him, but there’s always been an edge with Six. A line he can’t seem to cross no matter how hard Six tries to get him to.
They eat their measly dinners in silence after that, but he knows they’re all thinking about those feasts and celebrations. The simpler times when he wasn’t on the hook with Inais for impossible tasks, for nightmares instead of dreams. But this is now, not then — and if there’s one thing he can do to make his life worth something, it’ll be to finally bring Ecaeris home.
No matter what it takes.
14 The Throne
During a rare free afternoon, Azrian, Kato, and his brothers explore a little more of the mountain. They steer clear of the dragon and Riley despite Aleon’s repeated requests to go see her, but none of them want to watch him fawn all over her when there’s still such a large part of the mountain that they haven’t explored. With any luck, they’ll be returning to their homes soon enough, so their time here is too limited to not explore every chance they get.
Mostly, all they find are more rocks and empty caverns this time, but Azrian refuses to be disappointed. It’s still dumbfounding to him how vast Tizor really is, particularly since a vast majority of it is hollowed out, and yet it still stands tall. They’re about to give up their quest for the day when they spot the very man that Azrian’s been itching to talk to.
Curiosity bubbles over and Azrian can’t stop himself from waving Hanigen down. It’s so rare that the Oculare is alone that he won’t miss this opportunity, even if it doesn’t com
e to anything. “Han!” he whisper-yells, pulling Kato forward to catch up with him when he stops. “Hey, can we talk for a minute? There’s this ci—”
“City? What city? I don’t know anything about any cities,” Hanigen says quickly, but it would take a fool not to see the humor in his eyes. Azrian simply waits patiently until Hanigen slumps, his joke not received well. “Yeah. I see you stumbled on Caer Adstrin. Come with me.” Hanigen turns on his heel and heads back toward the common room but cuts down a thin corridor before they get there. The entrance is so shrouded by shadow that Azrian had missed it every time he’d passed, but once they break through to the other side, he’s not sure how. It’s another room not unlike the common room, complete with a fireplace and everything, but it’s also full to the brim with crystals, orbs, and tapestries. There’s so much to look at that Azrian doesn’t know where to start — but before he can ask a single question, Hanigen sighs. “Put it down, Kato.”
He turns to see Kato holding one of the crystals, looking wide-eyed and guilty as he slowly places it back on the table near the wall. “It fell into my hand by accident.”
“Right. Sit down.”
Azrian stifles a laugh at the look on Kato’s face — he’s not one to take commands well now that he’s out of Deadrun, but he’s proud of the brute when he listens. When they’re all settled, Teagon and Aleon staying near the exit as Azrian and Kato sit near Hanigen, Az shifts through his memories of the city and tries to decide where to start. They saw so many things that it’s hard to pick one, but he decides to start at the beginning. “You said it’s called Cal... what?”
“Caer Adstrin,” he corrects. “You won’t find it in any history books. For good reason, mind you. The Praediti were once proud of what they did, but not so much now. There are a handful of books still in existence that tell the story, though you won’t find them in any school or library around Athoze. I believe I’m the only one alive now that even knows they exist.”
“You didn’t tell Neginah? You saw something she didn’t?” Kato asks.
“I see a great many things my twin doesn’t. This is but one of them, as I’m sure she sees things that I cannot. We are not the same.”
Hearing Hanigen talk about Neginah like that is odd; he’s used to them finishing each other’s sentences and being joined at the hip, not keeping secrets from each other. “Okay. So Caer... Adstrin, right?”
“Right.”
“We found... things down there. Bodies. Weapons that I’ve never seen anywhere else in Athoze, and I’m a blacksmith — or was, anyway. There were strange basins and vases and—” Azrian looks at Kato, silently asking for permission to mention the sword, but Kato isn’t looking at him “—and a sword,” he finishes.
Hanigen shows no sign of surprise. “A sword that you then stole and are keeping hidden in your room under your mattress,” he says with an amused nod. “You really shouldn’t do that; the blade is so sharp it’ll slice right through the feathers and kill you in your sleep. Especially with the things the two of you do between the sheets.”
“I’ll be really mad if that thing kills you, Az. Especially when we’re in the middle of—”
“For Cettia’s sake,” Azrian hisses. “Can we move along, please? I’ll put the sword somewhere else.”
It takes too long for the laughter to die out, but eventually Hanigen takes the fading blush on Azrian’s cheeks as a cue to continue. “You are in the possession of Dawnreaper. Long fallen out of memory, it was forged in dragonfire and starlight — Cettia’s starlight. Between them, they imbued such energy and strength into the blade that it will never lose its edge. You found this out the hard way, did you not?”
“Yeah,” Teagon scoffs. “Aleon tried to cut my arm off.”
Azrian holds up a hand to silence him as the words sink in. The sword that he felt so close to, so attached to... it was Cettia’s. It fills him with a feverish excitement and a hunger to know more. “When? Why? Which dragon?”
“Longer ago than you can imagine,” Hanigen answers. “I don’t know exactly when, but from the books I’ve gotten my hands on, it was one of the first weapons ever created. Each of the Six had one, all varying in type and purpose.”
More than anything, Azrian begins to feel like his grasp on things is slipping. “Six? I’m sorry, Hanigen... I’m afraid I only have more questions now.”
“The Six. The Six gods that created the known universe? Didn’t you at least learn that in school?”
“Shadows, no.” Teagon smacks Aleon’s arm and points to Kato. “We were taught at home by a faeching madman. He didn’t say a word about gods or weapons or cities. I don’t think most Praediti know about them, honestly.”
“I dropped out when I was fourteen,” Azrian says. “But Axis mentioned there were old gods, he just didn’t tell me much about any of them. Tague explained what he could.”
Hanigen nods, then draws in an unsteady breath. “I see. I’d have thought you at least knew of the gods, but I see I have my work cut out for me if you’re going to understand what you stumbled upon. You do at least know about Cettia and Osyn, correct?” He’s met with several low grumbles, and Azrian adds Inais to that list. “Then allow me to give you the short version. After Cettia, Inais, and Osyn, we have Nitore. You have him to thank for your feet being firmly rooted to the spot, and for the rain that keeps the crops growing. He created the very laws of nature. Summer storms, winter snows, scorching heat. That’s Nitore. He holds the very balance of our world in his hands. Nitore’s weapon was a staff — Stormshaper, it was called. I’ve seen this staff in visions of the past, and it was—” he struggles for words “—a sight to behold. It drew protection and strength from Athoze. In the forest, it would appear as though it were covered in vines and twine; in the desert, it would be bathed in sand; and near the mountains, the staff itself would be encased in rock.”
“That’s unbelievably cool,” Aleon whispers. “What did it do?”
“Whatever Nitore wanted. Created storms, tidal waves, floods. Started quakes and erupted volcanoes. It was a conduit for his will, and his will alone,” Hanigen explains. “But his was not the only weapon, nor was he the only other god. Sorsin controlled the seas, and more importantly, the ebb and flow of fate. She had the ability to change the course of things just by using her voice alone... a voice that was eventually trapped in an amulet. This amulet — Torrentsong — gives the wearer the capability to alter events clear on the other side of Athoze with a single whisper. She utters a word and the wind changes which sends an avisim off course, which leads to someone not getting a message they need, which leads to an ambush they’re not prepared for. That’s just one example, but you get the picture. Torrentsong is an incredibly powerful tool and an even more dangerous weapon.”
“Why’d she trap her own voice?” Kato asks.
“She didn’t.” Hanigen stands to grab something from a drawer just out of sight, then returns to lay out a bit of old parchment. On it are the depictions of three beings — but one of those beings is on her knees, chained down with the tip of a spear held under her chin. “It was taken from her by Inais and Auctor. He’s here, with the whip. That’s Echolash... made of iron will and liquid power. One strike with this whip will put you entirely under the control of whoever struck you. Sorsin never stood a chance. The spear you see wielded by Inais is known as Shadowsiever. On its own, it’s just a stick with a pointy end. But when in the hands of Inais or one of his chosen, it bleeds darkness and shadow and never, ever misses its mark.”
Silence falls and an overwhelming sadness grips Azrian as he stares at Sorsin’s twisted, desperate face. Not unlike humans at the hands of Praediti, she was powerless to stop what happened to her. “What happened to Torrentsong?” he asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer.
“Like the Atarax, it was lost. Sometime after this—” he taps the parchment “—Cettia and Nitore teamed up to get it back, but the battle was fierce. The amulet hasn’t been seen since the day it was first cr
eated, though I’m sure it was used. Auctor used his powers of influence to change the hearts of all that chose to seek it out. I don’t know if he ever found it again himself.”
A collective breath sucks the air right out of the room. It’s an information overload for Azrian, but it feels good to finally know what else is out there, even if it’s not pleasant. “So six gods. Cettia is still around and apparently Inais is, too. Where are the others, and what does any of this have to do with Cael Adstrin?”
“In hiding,” Hanigen guesses. “Moved on. Maybe they’re on Anzore or one of the other planets, maybe they’re somewhere above. Or maybe they’re dead.”
“Dead?”
Hanigen chuckles. “Oculare don’t know everything. Not even me. I’m not sure if it’s possible to kill a god, though I know they’ve certainly tried to do the job themselves once or twice. Now, you asked what this had to do with the city, I’m getting there. Are you all still with me?”
Teagon raises his hand. “I’m kinda hungry, do you have snacks?”
“No, but you’re more than welcome to leave. It’s just about dinnertime and you know how the Regnum are about stragglers.”
After a near-silent conversation, Aleon and Teagon say their goodbyes and ask Kato to fill them in later, then duck back out the way they came. Once they’re gone, Hanigen gathers a couple of torches and hands one to each of them. “I think it would be better to have this conversation down in the city itself. Will you come with me down there?”
“Do you know of an alternative way down?” Kato asks. “Those stairs are difficult for those of us with big feet.”
Azrian chuckles and takes Kato’s hand once they’re finally on the move, but they keep quiet and walk with their heads down so they don’t draw suspicion to themselves. Azrian isn’t quite sure if they need to hide or not, but he doesn’t particularly want to be grilled by the Regnum about what they’re doing or where they’re going. In his experience so far, they’re not the most understanding.
