“Here, here,” she agreed.
****
Lothar and Holly both stared at the massive, gilded doors of the temple. They had bypassed what Lothar had thought were village homes that lined the golden path to the front steps of the temple, only to find that each was a smaller temple and, while he couldn’t read the ancient text, he had a feeling he knew what he’d been looking at. The depictions of beautiful women and strong men above the writing told him he’d passed a place of worship to Aries, Apollo, Hera, Poseidon, Zeus, and Hades. What struck him even more were the five shrines that circled around the sides and back of the temple. If one took a bird’s eye view of the area, it would look much like a keyhole.
“Do you want to go look?” Holly asked softly.
“At the Fae shrines?” he asked. She nodded. “I know where we are, and I know what they are.”
“I saw the writing on one. I think it’s a shrine for the Immortal Three,” she said.
Lothar smiled. “Yes, the one opposite it is for the Immortal Four and I am willing to bet if we look at the other three, we will find they belong to the bloodlines of the warriors.”
“So where are we, Lothar? I need to hear you say the word.”
He gave her the softest, most understanding look as he said the word. “Moirai.”
She nodded. “The Islands of the Fates… and this would be the lost temple of destiny… What have I done?” She shook her head, tears springing in her eyes to catch on her long lashes. She had cut the proverbial string of life for the both of them.
“No,” Lothar said sternly. “You are not going to break down and start blaming yourself again. We are going to figure this out.”
“How?” she asked, swiping at her eyes.
“We’re going to start with your father.”
Holly’s smile was wistful… maybe even a bit sad as she spoke. “Maybe we should start with yours.”
Lothar slung an arm over her shoulders and led them back down the steps. “How about we just start with the first warrior shrine we come upon. My guess is we will be visiting Eckland’s line first.”
Lothar nodded as they passed by the Immortal Three shrine. They never noticed the glimmer of magic that shimmered in the shape of an Immortal Three.
****
“Thank the Gods you’re back. Where did you go?” Meriah asked, lifting her gaze from the tome that sat in her lap. Jelena could almost smell the aged leather and yellowing vellum.
“I was with Uriah. What are you looking for?”
Meriah closed the book and stood as she blew out a deep breath. “We know who breached the island.”
Jelena shook her head. “Please don’t say it.”
Meriah frowned. “You already know?”
“I have my suspicions. And if I am right, that means we cast the spell that will take out one of Ragnar’s sons, and I can’t imagine being responsible for the pain Uriah will suffer for it.”
“He’s still alive!” Acacia came in the room, winded and excited.
Jelena narrowed her eyes on her sister. “Were you dabbling with magic again?”
Acacia huffed. She was well aware of all the mistakes she had made as of late. It all had started when she told Kale that Kat was still alive. The repercussions had begun to snowball. However, Jelena’s disapproving tone grated on her.
“Yes, and I saw him. He is with Holly. They found the Temple of Destiny.”
“How?” Meriah asked in disbelief.
“They were meant to,” Jelena said softly. “It’s the start, the battle will come, and we can only hope that he makes it out of there alive.”
“You know what that means, right?” Acacia asked. “Are you that eager to die?”
Jelena shook her head. “No, but this is something I have been preparing for. And I have little fight in me.”
“What’s happened to you?” Acacia demanded, fury and sadness mixing in her tone.
What indeed? A heart that loved and longed for something it could never have. And a body that now knew the pleasure that love was capable of providing. Uriah, all she wanted was Uriah. Ending up in the abyss would ease the ache of seeing him, of being so close, but never getting to have him again. She was in love, and it was against the rules.
Acacia watched as Jelena made no attempt to answer, her eyes narrowing as every second of silence stretched between them. “Fine, if they enter our shrine, I will be able to speak to them.”
“We have a shrine?” Meriah asked.
“Yes, and if I can help get them into the temple, then there is a way off the island. I don’t know how, but what I read said something about the test of fate and fear.”
“Ooh, that doesn’t sound pleasant,” Meriah said softly.
“No, but it’s their only hope.”
“I am surprised; it sounded, not long ago, like you hoped they wouldn’t find their way home,” Jelena accused.
“Not at all. I just hate to see you so eager to give up. I haven’t yet. We will get Lothar back, and then I will find a way to stop your death… even if you aren’t willing to live.”
Acacia glared at Jelena in challenge as she passed by her and left her sisters behind. They followed the rules blindly, never questioning anything. Well, she was done with that nonsense. A millennia of playing the watcher to the Fae with no life of her own was over. She would find a way to save her sister, no matter the consequences. She had started this whole thing, and she knew without anyone speaking the words that she had set her sister’s death in motion.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eckland’s temple oozed the feel of Cree’s magic. The gold bricks of the outside façade gave way to onyx walls inside and etchings of the warrior line. Depictions of the first war of the Light and the Dark took up one wall. Stories of the Immortal Heart and how Ekon fought for the light, losing his love in the war, brought a sad smile to Holly’s face. Everyone in the Middle World knew the story of the Warrior God. Across from the war wall stood a table filled with ornately decorated urns, the first five had names carved deeply into the thick, black marble.
“Bastien,” Holly whispered.
Lothar nodded. “Cree’s brother. His father and uncles are there as well.”
“The others have no names on them,” Holly noted.
“They are waiting for the next in Eckland’s line to fall.”
Lothar laced his fingers with Holly’s and headed for the door.
“There are no answers for us in here.”
The next shrine belonged to Ragnar. Lothar stood in awe as he was transported into his past and the generations that came before. He felt a deep connection as he took in every detail in the room. His magic tingled as it found home among his ancestors. Looking to the far wall, Lothar took in all the names etched upon the highly polished, carved, wooden boxes.
“What do you think is inside of them?” Holly asked, as she ran a finger over one of the boxes that were no larger than a shoebox.
Lothar shook his head. “I don’t know. The only thing I know is that they are sacred, and the only one that calls for me to open it is my father’s.”
Holly nodded as she reached for Ragnar’s box. A warrior seal decorated the front. It was unique to his line—a shield with wings of fire and two blades crossing over them.
“Then you should open it.”
Lothar narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t only belong to me… it belongs to all who fall in my familial line.”
“But you are the eldest and closest to Ragnar. You’re his son. This would belong to you, Kale, and Uriah alone. Your cousins and uncles would not feel the connection you or your brothers would have to what lies beneath this lid.” Holly tapped the seal on the box and placed it in Lothar’s hands.
Lothar held the box, ancient magic seeping through the dark mahogany. With bated breath, Lothar turned the aged lock and flipped open the lid. White mist sprang free, engulfing the room before pouring into Lothar’s mouth and nose.
Panic filled Holly’s eyes as t
he dense air pumped into him. Once the room was clear of the magic that had just assaulted Lothar, he took a deep breath before uttering two words. “Oh, shit.”
Lothar’s eyes met Holly’s briefly before he crumpled to the ground.
“Lothar!” Holly screamed his name as she sprung to catch him before his head cracked against the marble floor. She patted his cheek. “Lothar, come on, wake up.”
“He will come back to you shortly,” a soft voice echoed behind Holly.
Holly’s head jerked towards the voice, her eyes landing on the beautiful, black-haired woman who faded in and out of corporeal form.
“Acacia.” Holly all but whispered the Immortal’s name.
Acacia nodded and smiled softly at Holly. “I don’t have a lot of time. I am not supposed to be here, and the only reason I am in this shrine is because Lothar is connecting with his ancestors in my world.”
Holly’s eyes flicked to Lothar’s face. “He’s in the Underworld?”
Acacia shrugged. “Not exactly. He’s in Limbo. What is important is that he will be ok, and when he wakes, you will be one step closer to entering the temple. You will find the answers to your escape from this island with the Fates.”
Holly nodded. “The Fates rest in the temple.”
“They do, just as my mine and my sisters’ magic rest in our shrine. Just as Ragnar’s magic rested in the box Lothar just opened.”
Holly’s brow furrowed. “The mist?”
Acacia nodded. “The mist was the magic of Ragnar’s line… it led Lothar to Limbo. You may find what you’ve been looking for in Tyr’s shrine.”
“I don’t understand. What is it you think I am looking for?”
“Your place among your father’s line.”
“My father is an elf.”
“Your biology lies with an elf father. Tyr fought for you, never questioned who you were. The Fates will ask you to find that in yourself. Don’t let them down, Holly.”
“What do you mean?”
Acacia smiled. “I want to tell you more, but you see, all of this is happening because I shifted the path of destiny and then tried to fix it and, simply put, some things aren’t meant to be meddled with. My sisters have been trying to drill that in my head, and while I think it is ridiculous, they are still right. Just know that this all lies on your shoulders.”
****
White mist surrounded Lothar, and the world faded to shades of grey. The Shrine and Holly were gone and he felt as if the ground shifted beneath him, or maybe like he was floating in a storm cloud. The mist began to part in front of him, and a dark silhouette moved closer. As the large frame with massive wings stretched out behind him, the mist cleared. Lothar’s gaze locked with the shimmering silver of his father’s eyes.
“My son.” Ragnar’s words were laced with pride as he stretched his arms out to pull his child into a hearty embrace. “My son,” he whispered again, before holding Lothar at arm’s length.
Lothar felt like a boy in the presence of his father. Ragnar was tall and thick with light sandy hair that fell around his shoulders. His finely trimmed beard and mustache was the same in color, though it had hints of deep red. He wore the traditional warrior garb, consisting of a deep burgundy tunic and leather pants. A thick, leather vest provided protection to his chest and two straps crossed over it, holding the sheaths that he carried his duel swords in. A shield that carried their family crest hung against his back, keeping the burgundy cape he wore pressed against his broad shoulders. The cape was pinned at Ragnar’s throat with a platinum pin that also carried the flaming wing crest. Lothar and his brothers had long put the traditional warrior wear to rest in favor of the more comfortable dress of the humans, but he admired the statement it made.
“Father,” Lothar finally spit the words out as he looked over the man who had raised him.
“I knew it would be you, Lothar, my eldest. Are you still keeping your brothers in line?”
Lothar arched a brow. “No better than I was able to in the past.”
Ragnar let out a deep, belly-shaking laugh. “I assume we speak of Kale. How are he and Uriah?”
Lothar, still a little stunned, shook his head as he spoke. “Kale is good; he is mated to a succubus, Katarina. Uriah is… well, he is Uriah. He will be fine.”
Ragnar’s bushy brows furrowed. “What has happened to Uriah?”
“He was injured in a fire awhile back, but he is healing and back with us. Father, where are we?”
“Limbo. You will be going back soon. I have a message for you, and Tyr has a message for Holly.”
“Tyr is here too?”
“I am.” Tyr stepped through the mist, a smile on his face. “How is my baby girl?”
Lothar smiled back. “Things are tough, but she’ll be fine.”
“You take care of her, and I trust you will get her back to her siblings. She belongs with them.
Lothar smiled. “I will do my very best.”
“Good.” Tyr dipped his chin. “Then you’ll need to know how to get off this island.”
“Let’s take a seat.” Ragnar gestured behind Lothar. When he turned, there was a small pub where only mist had hung a few moments ago.
They moved to the empty pub. Ragnar grabbed three mugs and filled the glasses with deep-colored ale. Lothar arched a brow.
“Where are we, and why is there a full tap?”
Ragnar squeezed Lothar’s shoulder. “Don’t ask what is not important—just drink and enjoy the ale with your father and very good friend.”
Lothar nodded and took a swig of the smooth, honey-flavored liquid.
Looking to Tyr, Lothar asked, “So, how do we get off the island?”
“I am afraid that comes down to my little girl. Whatever fate has in store for the two of you, it tethered you to this part of her destiny. In order to get off the island, Holly will be tested by The Fates. She needs to get into the Temple. The key is my shrine; she will know it when she sees it.”
With that bit of information, Tyr gulped down the remainder of his drink and smiled at Lothar before walking out of the pub and disappearing into the mist that still hung heavily in the air outside.
“He was always kind of cryptic,” Lothar muttered.
Ragnar laughed and grinned. “I suppose he always felt others should find their own way, with just a little push from him.”
Lothar shrugged and took another sip of his drink. “So she needs to get in to the temple and then what, exactly?”
“Then she will be tested as was always her destiny.”
“And where do I fit in?”
“You, my son, were meant to find me one more time before you join me for good… which will be a long time in the future.”
“Why was I meant to find you once more?”
Ragnar smiled and stood. “Come with me and I will show you.”
Lothar quickly finished his drink and followed his father.
Ragnar stood with his face to the sky. Lothar could see that his eyes had taken on the opaque coloring that said he was calling on his magic. The mist began to swirl and the heavens began to rumble above them, rain poured down, and lightning flashed. Others may have flinched or run from the display, but Lothar was used to the power that was his father’s gift.
Ragnar pulled the rain to him, the lightning struck around them, and the mist blew away with the increasing wind. With a final deafening roar from above, Ragnar was on his knees and the world around them fell silent. Lothar reached down and helped his father to his feet. Ragnar was panting as he locked his gaze with his son.
“This is why you are here.”
Ragnar lifted his hands to show Lothar the flashing ball of lightning he held. Lothar’s eyes widened.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked as he watched the ball flash in his father’s hand.
“It is, and it will help you save the Middle World when the Light and the Dark go to war once more. Trust in me, this magic will save many… you will know when to use it an
d how to save our world.”
“I can’t…” Lothar began to stammer. “I don’t… I don’t know how to use it.”
Ragnar shook his head. “You are more powerful than you know. You can handle this gift. I wouldn’t give it to you if I didn’t believe you could handle and nurture it. You are my son, I know you.”
Lothar looked his father over before nodding and smiling. “I love you, Father.”
“And I you, my son. Remember that and know that this ancestral magic I bestow upon you will save the Middle World from the freeze.” Ragnar wrapped one arm around Lothar’s shoulder before shoving the ball of lightning into his son’s chest.
****
Holly watched Lothar as she waited for him to wake. Sighing, she laid his head gently down on the marble floor before standing. Moving to the door, she peered out at the Temple of the Fates. Secrets hid behind the gilded walls, secrets she would learn before this was all over. Movement caught her attention. Turning, she moved back to Lothar as he began to stir.
“Lothar.” She moved to help him sit up. “Are you okay?”
Lothar nodded. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he took a deep breath. “I saw my father… yours too.”
“You saw Tyr?” she questioned.
“Yes, he told me to take care of you. He called you his baby girl. Wanted me to remind you that he loves you and no matter what, you are his daughter. He said he wants you to return to Bain and Rowan, and that we need to go to his shrine, that there is something there for you. The key into the Temple.”
“A key?”
“A magical key.” He smiled.
Holly shook her head. There was too much going on.” What just happened to you?”
“The mist carried me into a gray-scale realm with clouds and…” He shook his head. “It was Limbo, but that’s not what is important. Ragnar met me there, and this is what he gave me.” Lothar held out his palm. Wind whipped from his hand and swarmed around Holly, lifting her honey locks to whip around her face. “He gave me his power.”
Holly gasped. “You’re a Hala spirit now?”
Immortal Promise Page 11
