by Ali Winters
A slow smile spread across his face. “You know, I thought you had grown old and died years ago. But if it is possible, you look younger now than you did when I knew you last.”
Yeva tried not to bristle at his words. Before she could put him in his place, he leaped back and threw his arms wide.
“We will take you up on your offer! Lead the way, my lady!” The men and women behind him exchanged confused glances. He spun around. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, far louder than Yeva would have preferred, “tonight we become gods!”
Though she hated to sully the sacred cove with such filth, the powers of the waters of Salay would cleanse itself once Silas took care of them and they were gone.
And she knew exactly how to make sure Silas found his way passed the wards.
A smile spread across her lips as she led the rowdy group out of the city and toward the forest, where the fountain lay hidden beyond wards.
Though dismissed as nothing more than drunkards, the group sang out of tune and jeered the other mortals they passed, promising to be merciful gods.
NIVIAN
GRAVEL CRUNCHED UNDERFOOT as Nivian made her way toward the forest. The night air chilled her skin, causing gooseflesh to race down her arms. She’d been scheduled to have the night off, but at Yeva’s request, she would now spend until dawn patrolling the outer parameter of the forest.
Why tonight of all nights, and in the forest no less, she couldn’t fathom. No mortals ever came close enough to pose a threat. Yeva had seemed agitated, and there was something strange in the urgency of the request. She’d claimed to have seen mortals in the vicinity the night before. Their stories and superstitions usually kept them from venturing anywhere near it.
But in the end, she had obliged.
It was a place of peace, but something nagged at her, unrelenting. A sense of foreboding.
Nivian bit down on the inside of her cheek. She had told Caspian to meet her by the tree near the river after sun down. Now she wouldn’t make it, and had no way of getting a message to him.
She entered the edge of the forest and the canopy above swallowed the waning light in an instant. Nivian pulled her red cloak tighter around her shoulders and walked deeper into the trees. Her breath came out in soft, white plumes before dispersing. The sound of her breathing her only company.
The snap of a branch behind her had her spinning, drawing the beginning flicker of her power into her palms. She squinted into the dark but saw nothing. Nivian relaxed, releasing the hold on her power.
Part of her felt foolish and it was almost as if she were afraid… though her rational mind knew that there were no monsters lurking in the shadows.
The faint ringing of metal singing as it scraped against stone made her ears perk up. Nivian strained to listen. Again and again the sound reverberated from between the trees. Closing her eyes, she turned slowly, trying to pinpoint the direction it came from.
Her eyes snapped open when she narrowed in on the direction. Nivian blinked, and her heart skipped a beat.
“No…”
Before she could think on it more, she was off and running, ducking under branches and tearing through the brush. Then there was a familiar, warm tingle as she passed through the wards that should have prevented all mortals from getting anywhere near the sacred grounds.
“No, no, it can’t be,” she begged under her breath, the words strangled and raw in her throat.
The forest floor dipped and she twisted her body, sliding down the slope, not breaking stride as she reached the bottom.
Deep baritone voices carried on the air. Nivian pushed her legs to move faster.
It isn’t possible!
She broke through the tree line and stopped suddenly at the edge of the clearing.
The emerald green grasses of the glade were trampled and muddied, and several men and women soaked in the hot springs that burbled from the earth.
The sacred Waters of Salay.
They splashed and hollered. One man grabbed at a woman and jerked her toward him, eliciting a delighted squeal as a crooked smile formed on her face. The cup she held slipped from her fingers and spilled a dark red liquid into the water.
Two men on the shore held a sword in each hand. Their cries were the ones she heard, calling her to this place. They ran toward each other, their blades clashing as their fight began anew.
Nivian stood frozen in place. There were nearly a dozen of them. It was far more than she was able to handle on her own.
Gaia. She had to stop them now… but she needed help because there was no way she could subdue them all on her own. Though, the other Watchers were too far away to summon quickly.
One of the men slipped on the muddy ground, falling hard, and the other didn’t hesitate as he plunged his sword through his chest. As he straightened, he ripped his blade from the man’s flesh and roared up at the sky. The humans in the springs cheered.
Nivian covered her mouth, ready to retch. She was suddenly glad she had skipped dinner. How could they be so cold and callous toward each other like that? How could they not cherish every second of their short and limited lives?
She paused amid gasping for air. A man had died! She looked around, waiting for a Guardian to come. Seconds passed, but neither Caspian, nor Silas, nor any other, showed their faces.
Then, to her horror, the fallen man coughed. More jeering and shouts rose from the others.
“Impossible…” she whispered against the fingers clasped over her mouth.
The man jumped to his feet and slid his hand down his torso, wiping away the blood.
His wound already healing.
Nivian stumbled back into the cover of the forest and turned and ran. She only made it a few yards before she collapsed to her knees and heaved. Her vision wavered keeping her rooted on the ground.
It seemed a small eternity before she was able to stumble to her feet.
The sacred grounds were defiled by mortals who had no respect for the old gods and no respect for the gifts Gaia bestowed upon her Watchers.
She summoned every remaining ounce of strength and pushed her body, willing her muscles to go faster as she moved through the forest, rushing toward the faint light that flickered in the distance. Branches snaked out like long nails, reaching and scratching at her. The forest had never felt more sinister, and what she saw made fear settle in the base of her spine.
The warm lights from the dwellings in the village flickered through the brush. She was almost there. Nivian leaped with each step, propelling her body farther and faster until she reached the forest’s edge.
Darkness formed before her, solid and unwavering. She didn’t have time to process what was happening before she slammed into the thing that appeared out of nowhere.
She bounced off and crashed to the ground, rolling, a tangle of limbs. She groaned and was accompanied by another groan, deeper than her own. She lay panting as she willed her vision to clear. Whoever she had run into untangled themselves from her.
Two strong hands gripped her upper arms and lifted her to her feet, holding her steady.
She stared up into a familiar face with midnight eyes.
“Nivi? Why are you running?” Caspian asked.
“Caspian,” she breathed. Her legs shook and her knees buckled with relief as she sagged against him. She could barely contain the sob that worked its way up her throat.
He held her at arm’s length, bending to look her in the eye, but he did not let go, and she was grateful for it.
“What is wrong?” He brushed her dark hair back from her face.
She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice didn’t want to work. Nivian closed her eyes and took several breaths before trying again. “Humans… They’ve found the fountain of Nathka. They—” she cut herself off and tried to shake away the image of what she had witnessed from her mind.
He stiffened. His long fingers tightened around her arms, pressing into her skin almost painfully. “Did they drink of the waters
?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper. Nivian pulled away, finding her strength again. “I must tell Yeva.”
She moved around him, but he stopped her, his hand still holding onto one of hers. “There is no time. You know what must happen.”
Nivian’s spine straightened at the darkness in his voice. “But—”
“No, Yeva cannot help us here. They must die. That is the only way to fix this. Mortals were never meant to live forever.”
It was true. Everything he said was the truth, and she knew it, too. But, Gaia… He was going to reap them. And she would have to watch… because the Dark Guardians could not venture past the wards without her. She thought she might be sick all over again.
“Wait here,” he said.
Caspian threw his hood over his head and vanished before Nivian could think to respond.
Where did he go? She had no idea how long he would be gone, or what he was doing. But she couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. She placed one foot in front of the other. Again and again. Her legs shook. Then she started to run.
Nivian hadn’t even made it more than a handful of paces before Caspian appeared before her, brows drawn and a frown upon his lips.
“I was going to fetch Yeva,” Nivian said, answering the unspoken question. “The sacred grounds are hers… she would want to know.”
A chill ran down her spine as another Guardian appeared behind Caspian, looking none too pleased. In fact, if she didn’t know better, the scowl on his face and the fire flashing in his cold gray eyes seemed to be directed at her.
She didn’t know him, and at that moment, didn’t care who he was or why he was in a foul mood. There were far more important things that needed dealing with.
Nivian gulped down her nerves, squaring her shoulders and lengthening her spine. If it was her fear he wanted, then she would not give it to him. Not tonight.
“There is nothing she can do,” Caspian said, guiding her back toward the forest by her arm. “Lead the way.”
She quickly broke into a run as soon as they entered the forest. She ran with everything she had. The nearly silent falls of their steps following close behind did not falter even once.
Her heart beat faster as she guided them closer and closer to the sacred fountains. What was she doing, taking Guardians to the waters? The others would never forgive her. Yeva would have her head. But there was no other choice. Humans could not drink the waters, and, if they did, then it would spell disaster for the balance.
And the balance must be protected at all costs.
They were almost there. Just a little farther past the—
The ground shook as she leaped down the incline. The toe of her boot caught on a root or vine and she tripped. Caspian was at her side the second she stopped tumbling down the hill. Scratches lined her arms, and she could feel the sting of several cuts across her cheek.
Nivian pushed herself to her feet before Caspian could help her up.
Shouts and cries still rang out as the blades clashed and scraped against each other.
She felt the cool tingle of the barrier as she passed through, followed by the hiss of pain by the two Dark Guardians at her back. But she didn’t stop or slow until she reached the tree line framing the clearing.
The golden haired Guardian stopped to her left, and Caspian to her right. The three of them stood for a long moment beholding the wretched sight. Caspian’s hand reached out for hers and gripped it tightly.
“No wonder there has been a shift in the balance,” the unknown Guardian said at last.
Nivian turned her head and looked up into his stony face. He looked only at Caspian, ignoring the fact that she stood between them. Then he strode forward, brandishing his scythe, the dark blade glinting in the moonlight.
She had not noticed he even possessed one until that very moment. Caspian dropped her hand without a word and followed.
They each lifted a hand, calling forth the life threads.
She wanted to look away, but her gaze remained locked on every flick of their wrists. She had never witnessed a reaping before, only ever stopping them when needed.
The mud covered man she had seen fall when she had first stumbled across the scene plunged his weapon into the other man. The Dark Guardian crossed to him first as Caspian headed toward the group in the now cloudy waters.
The fallen man lay gasping in the ruined and muddy ground. Blood oozed from his gut as the other yanked his sword out mercilessly. The Guardian lowered his hand and continued his pull on the life thread. It shone, white and blue and sparking, nearly blinding her. She had to look away.
Nivian focused her gaze upon the man’s face as he turned to look up the being who would reap him. His eyes grew wide and terrified.
The Guardian swung, and she could have sworn it created a dark and foreboding melody as it sailed through the air. The man’s gaze drifted to hers as the life drained from his eyes. The life thread turned black and turned to ash, floating away on the breeze before it touched the ground. The man took one last, shuddering breath and then remained still.
The other walked past the Guardian and kicked his fallen friend’s leg, shouting at him to stand and fight.
Nivian looked away, a shudder running over her. She felt wrong, felt as if something bleak and oily tainted her heart, something that was never meant to touch it.
From the corner of her eye, she could see the flash of life threads, then the darkness that followed after. A woman screamed, but she was quickly silenced. In only a few short moments, the cove was once again quiet, with no more than the burbling spring to fill the night.
The crunch of footsteps on the grass grew closer, then stopped.
“It is done,” the Dark Guardian said quietly. “Tell no one we have been here. Not even Yeva.”
Nivian’s head shot up. “I can’t keep this—”
“You can and you will.” His dark eyes bored into her until she looked away. Those endless depths held the promise of a threat. Though it was unneeded, some part of her bowed down to his command.
And then he was gone.
She knew what happened had been necessary. The mortals had needed to die because they had drank of the waters of Salay. And while it replenished the strength of the Watchers, it would eat the souls of mortals and wreaked havoc upon their life force, poisoning it so that it could never return to the earth to be replenished by Gaia.
The balance was more important than anything, and by bringing Caspian and the other Guardian here, she had done her duty and protected it. Yet she could not bring herself to feel good about the events that had transpired.
Nivian wrapped her arms around her core and forced herself to look at the clearing. She sucked in a breath. The mortals were gone. No trace of them remained, save for the damage they inflicted. But even that was already mending itself, quickly erasing the last traces of their presence.
Caspian stood quietly at her side. Though he was quite a bit taller, he kept his chin down and avoided looking at her. He reached out for her hand, but Nivian pulled away. She couldn’t bear to be touched.
“Nivian,” he said at last, “I know it took a lot of faith in me to trust our presence in this place, and I thank you for that. Know that I do not take it lightly.” Each word from his mouth was an apology. Though it could do nothing to make anything right.
Nothing could make it right.
What made it worse was that she could not confide in the others, not even Kain. Nivian swallowed the emotions trying to force their way up her throat. She couldn’t tell Yeva, and that was a betrayal all its own. Telling anyone that she had led Guardians to the Watchers’ sacred ground would get her destroyed and start a war that would end the world.
Nivian felt ill, but she forced herself to face him anyway. Dark pools of midnight, filled with a pain that matched the storm roiling within her soul, bored into her and begged for a single word of forgiveness. After all, he knew what their presence had meant for her.
He cupped her cheek and, this time, she did not pull away. His thumb brushed away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.
“Thank you,” Nivian said coolly. She pulled back, unable to take the softness, the understanding, the pity, of his touch any longer, and turned from him. “I must get back.”
Without waiting for his response, she walked into the shadows of the forest. Seconds later, a cool wind swirled around her and she knew Caspian had transported away, leaving her alone.
Only then did she allow herself to fall to her knees, her back bowing as she let her pain fall in the form of hot tears.
SILAS
SILAS STOPPED IN the middle of the main hall of G.R.I.M. Headquarters, earning a few stray looks from his Guardians. But no one said a word to him about the strange behavior. His breath caught in his chest as the balance shifted. His fists clenched tightly. He had fixed the balance days ago in the Watcher’s forest-—these shifts should have stopped.
The balance… it was already teetering unevenly, like a magnet distorting the reading of a compass. Now it ticked just that much farther away from perfect. He’d thought he’d found the cause, but there was something else disturbing it.
It wasn’t enough to effect the mortal realm or that of Mophar. But not righting it would lead to horrific consequences.
When he finally found the strength to move his legs again, he walked calmly though the hall and up the spiral stairs to the highest point of the spire.
A rogue Watcher. Though there hadn’t been one in decades, there could be no other explanation now that the disaster at the Fountain of Nathka had been dealt with. His footsteps grew faster as he neared the top. The Tome. He needed to get to the Tome.
He would assign as many marks as needed to right the change. Then… then he would go to Yeva and demand she find the rouge hiding in her midst. The shift in the balance was small, something a single Watcher could create by destroying a Dark Guardian. Silas’s stomach churned.
