They looked at each other, gently brushing their fingers through each other’s hair with genuine fascination. They were discovering themselves as sisters. The Daughters then looked around, taking it all in. From where they stood, they could see the white marble walls of the crevice that held them, the pink water at their feet, the darkening sky above, and perhaps glimpses of the crude world where the peak split in two.
They listened to the sound of the water like I did and then nodded to one another, as if they understood something that I didn’t. The Daughters walked up to the marble wall behind them and placed their ears against it, closing their eyes and taking deep breaths.
I then realized what this entire vision was about. I was standing on Mount Agrith. No one had left the Daughters’ eggs on top of it; Eritopia had created them. They were born with a clear understanding of the world that surrounded them. As they listened to the water and the natural elements, they were able to understand Eritopia itself.
These weren’t goddesses as we’d suspected. They were not creators. They were so deeply tied to Eritopia that the world itself resonated through their bodies and their powers. It must have been the source of their incredible abilities. They walked around that shore for a while, listening to every sound and nodding their approval, as if Eritopia was talking to them.
It made me wonder: what if they could actually communicate with it? What if Eritopia spoke to the Daughters?
Aida
I opened my eyes to find the familiar dirty plaster of the basement ceiling above peeling here and there from the humidity. I sat up with a jolt, my mind flooded with memories of my visions. I had so much to tell the Druid!
My skin tickled all over, and when I looked down I saw black runes fluttering across my chest and limbs. A heatwave burned through me, and I let out a short but pained scream. I had hoped I’d never see those things on me again.
I swatted away at them as if fending off thousands of spiders and cursed under my breath until a pair of strong arms took hold of me. Field’s voice poured into my ear, calming me down.
“It’s okay, Aida, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he said gently.
I couldn’t help but whimper, looking at my arms with sheer horror.
“Get them off me! This is so creepy!” I yelped, warm tears streaming down my cheeks.
He held me close, and I could feel his solid frame molded against mine. The runes started to fade, as if washed away by the rain. One by one, they disappeared, and I felt like I could finally breathe again. I sighed with relief, thankful that they didn’t seem permanent, and leaned my head against Field’s chest.
A few moments later, I was stable enough to notice Serena and Draven standing by my bedside. Serena took my hand in hers and squeezed it, giving me silent assurance that everything was going to be okay. But I knew, deep in my heart, that wasn’t exactly true. After all, I had just seen runes on my body again, and I clearly couldn’t chalk it up to a hallucination anymore.
“How are you feeling?” Serena asked me, concern in her blue eyes.
“I would say I’m doing just peachy, but that would not be true,” I snapped.
She didn’t say anything. I knew she didn’t deserve to be in my line of fire.
“Sorry,” I mumbled and relaxed in Field’s arms. He thankfully didn’t let go of me.
“Unfortunately, the runes are a part of who you are now,” Draven said, not making me feel any better. “But from what I’ve read about the Oracles and what I know from Elissa, the transformation process that you’re going through seems to be different from the usual. That might be of some comfort, I hope.”
“By different than usual you mean I’ve not yet gone fully blind or lost my lady parts?” I couldn’t help the snappy tone. Frustration dominated my state of mind.
Draven took a deep breath, his lips drawn in a thin, flat line. He didn’t deserve it either, but I canceled that thought out when I remembered that he’d brought us to Eritopia in the first place. He’d have to put up with my snappy tone if it provided me with some catharsis. I’d earned that right.
“What did you see?” he asked, wise enough to not engage me on the positive aspects of my Oracle symptoms.
I told him about the first vision, describing the vivid jungle, the succubi, the Dearghs, and the conversation regarding the volcanoes. He nodded slowly as I recounted the moving stone giants and the way they used the volcano fires to travel from one clan to another.
“Is there anything there that helps us?” I asked at the end.
“Absolutely.” Draven nodded. “This doesn’t just confirm that Hansa is already busy holding up her end of the bargain, which is very good news, but it also confirms my suspicion that the Dearghs had no idea why their volcanoes are dying out. I’ve been tracking the phenomenon for decades now. It’s good that they know now. It will be their incentive to rise up against Azazel.
“After all,” he continued, “they might all be gentle servants of nature, but they don’t take kindly to cheating at the expense of their own kind. The way the Dearghs travel is new to me. I’m guessing they have no problem with lava, since their core is pure fire, but I can’t help but wonder whether we could take advantage of this method of transportation for ourselves.”
“What, like move from one volcano to another through fire and lava?” I made sure sarcasm dripped from each word.
“With a protection spell powerful enough, we could probably do exactly that,” the Druid replied, ignoring my tone of voice. “Did you see anything else?”
“Yeah, it was another set of three visions, basically. I think it might be a pattern,” I replied.
“It makes sense. There are three Oracles, each with three visions each. There must be some significance in this. Tell me more.”
I chronicled my second vision of Azazel and the Druid I’d seen tortured before. I described their conversation over a map of the northern jungles. I made sure not to miss any details, including the moving serpent made of gold with small ruby eyes.
“The Druid’s name was Marchosi,” I added.
Draven stilled for a second, then nodded. I noticed the tension in his jaw, and judging by Serena’s expression, so did she.
“Who’s Marchosi?” she asked.
“Marchosi was once a very close friend of my father’s. They were raised together, educated by the same Druid Masters. I didn’t think he’d still be alive,” the Druid replied. “But his presence in this war is extremely detrimental to my plans. He has plenty of spies of his own throughout Eritopia, as he was once in charge of diplomatic affairs between the citadels and had to make sure that there would be no unpleasant or bloody surprises for his convoys. The worst part about his involvement is that he might know about my existence, although I’m not certain of it. It’s something I’ll have to consider going forward.”
“The fact that Azazel doesn’t know about you and this place has been at the core of everything we’ve done so far,” Serena said. “What will we do if he finds out?”
“Even if he does find out, he won’t be able to find us here. We are under the Daughters’ protection. The shield is impervious to any attack, and we are virtually invisible beneath it, as you know already. The problem isn’t that he’d know about the mansion. He can’t do anything about it anyway. It’s that if he finds out I exist, he’ll add me to his list of enemies, and that means I’ll be a new chapter in his strategy to gain full control of Eritopia. When your enemy knows who you are, you are that much more vulnerable.”
The Druid straightened his back and nodded, as if having just found his resolve.
“It’s fine, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” he continued. “Tell me about your third vision, Aida.”
Feeling as if I’d saved the best for last, I told Draven about the dungeon and all the creatures held captive there.
“There were dozens of them, from all walks of life. There were even some fae with tattered formal dresses, as if they’d been snatched in the middle of
a banquet. There were plenty of incubi and succubi and I think some female Druids, if you have those.” I remembered the beautiful women with exotic scales, serpent tongues, and fangs.
“I don’t think there are any left, from what I know. What did they look like?”
I described them in full detail, down to the color of their scales and their eyes.
“Those are Lamias,” Draven explained. “They’re often confused with female Druids, but they never take the full form of a serpent. They look like what you might consider to be regular women, but they have a developing snake skin that gradually covers their entire body. Once they’re fully covered, they shed it and emerge with a different appearance and different physical features, as if they are different women altogether.”
“That sounds pretty cool, actually,” Serena mused.
“They only feed on incubus or succubus flesh,” Draven added.
“Oh. I take that back, then.”
“Many millennia ago, they were once relatives of the Druid species, like cousins, you might say. But they were banished to the darkest corners of the jungle for their horrible appetite. I can tell you more about them later,” the Druid said, then turned his attention back on me. “Go on, Aida.”
“Yeah, so there were all kinds of creatures in that dungeon, and judging by the color of the walls and the lights, they were in the same building as Azazel—black stone and green fires. They all had heavy iron shackles around their wrists and ankles and were stuck in individual locked cages.”
“Shackles and cages. Only one of the two is used for imprisonment. The other must be a suppressor of the captive’s abilities, like the fae, for example,” Draven concluded, then waited for me to continue.
“Then I saw a Destroyer come in, dragging an incubus and throwing him inside one of those cages. Thing is, I’ve seen that incubus before. It was Kristos’ brother, and he’d been severely beaten.”
“Sverik is a prisoner of Azazel? How could that be? His father swore his allegiance to Azazel,” the Druid asked.
“He was telling the Destroyer the same thing,” I explained. “But then the Destroyer said that Azazel had decided to keep him caged to make sure that his father didn’t think of doing something stupid, like turning against them.”
Draven nodded and crossed his arms on his chest, bringing one hand up to support his chin while he processed the new information. I further relaxed into Field’s arms. His heart beat against the back of my head. With everything going on, his presence seemed to be my anchor to sanity.
“Azazel must be holding all those creatures there, including Sverik, for specific reasons, then. Knowing him and his strategies so far, I’m willing to bet these reasons include blackmail, ransom, and even experiments, since he draws his dark magic from living beings. He uses the volcanoes for high-powered spells during war campaigns and to corrupt his Destroyers, but the creatures are the core source for his black arts,” Draven concluded.
I felt sorry for all those creatures. A pang dug into my heart. Imprisonment seemed like a fate worse than death when your captor was Azazel. They must’ve felt hopeless in there, while the life was gradually snuffed out of them, as if they were just batteries that could be discarded once he was done with them.
The more I thought of the vision of the fae stuck in those cages, with their blank gazes and livid complexions, the more determined I was to help bring this half-snake ass down. By comparison, the disappearing runes on my skin seemed trivial. At least I wasn’t shackled in some filthy basement at the whims of a megalomaniac with no honor or respect for life.
Phoenix
I woke up with a start and immediately sat up, as if pushed out of my vision and right back into reality. I shook my head and blinked several times, taking in my surroundings and the voices around me. The dark green tiles below, the dim lights from the oil lamps, the cool air, and the off-white sheets of my bed immediately fell into place. I was in the basement.
My eyes caught some kind of movement on my body, and when I looked down, I froze at the sight of thousands of black runes moving across my skin in strings along my torso and arms. I tried rubbing them off as if they were the ballpoint pen smudges I used to get back at school in The Shade, but they lingered for a while before dissipating on their own.
“What the hell?!” I exclaimed and looked around in a panic.
Jovi stood by my side with paper and charcoal in his hands. Scribbles that resembled my runes were jotted down on the paper with jagged lines and rushed curves.
“It’s okay, Phoenix. Look. They’re gone.” Serena rushed over to my side and hugged me.
“Were those runes?!” I asked, unwilling to calm down just yet.
“Yes. You’ve all been covered with them during your visions,” Jovi explained and showed me the notes he’d made.
I heard a gasp and the sound of bare feet hitting the tiles to my right and felt arms wrap around me. It was the Daughter, who held me as tightly as she could. Her arms were warm and soothing and calmed me. I took deep breaths, my face submerged in her long reddish pink hair. She was soft and hot against my skin. Her cheek rubbed against my jaw. I felt my stubble scratching her, but she didn’t seem to mind.
I looked to my left and saw Aida sitting up in her bed, leaning against Field. She gave me an understanding look and nodded with a faint smile. I felt my body relax, both from the Daughter’s embrace and Aida’s reassuring expression.
“We tried to write down as many of them as possible during your visions,” Serena said.
“Do we know what they mean?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair.
“No. Unfortunately, the Oracles could never translate them outside their visions,” Draven replied, inching toward my bed from Aida’s side.
The Daughter threw a glance over the notes in Jovi’s hand.
“I know what they mean,” she said, once again stunning us all.
“You do?” Draven asked, and she nodded. “How can you tell?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “But they all represent words that I recognize. I’ve always known that language.”
“Well, that certainly adds to your purpose in this particular dynamic,” the Druid responded, his tone soft enough to sound like genuine appreciation. “I must kindly ask that you assist us with their translation afterward if you can.”
“Will it help Phoenix?”
My heart thumped at the sound of her question. Everything seemed to revert to me as far as her decisions were concerned.
“It will help him, and it will help all of us,” Draven replied.
“I will help you translate them, then.”
Serena held my hand. Our eyes met for a moment—I needed my sister near me. The clarity that her presence gave me was undeniable. Soon enough, all the jitters scattered away, and I was left with an accurate set of visions.
“We need to talk, Druid,” I said to him, eager to get the images of the past out of the way. I had so many questions for him, some inappropriate and possibly infuriating, I realized. I stifled a grin. “I had three visions of the past.”
“Alas, the pattern repeats itself,” Draven mused. “Please, do tell.”
I told him about the first one, involving the woman I had seen with what I assumed were Dearghs and the leather-bound book she gave to the stone giant.
“Those were Dearghs, right?” I asked him, just to be sure I wasn’t making the wrong assumption in my account.
“Yes. Klibi’s clan is about two hundred miles west of here. It’s one of the ten active volcanoes left, though I’m not sure for how long it will stay that way.”
“He called the woman a swamp witch. Is that the same species that sourced the succubi’s illusion shield?”
“Indeed, Phoenix. Your vision must have been at least a couple of centuries ago, before the swamp witches vanished completely. You said she gave the Dearghs a book?” Draven asked.
“Yes. She said it held their knowledge and secrets and that it shou
ld only be given to someone who has the courage and strength to face Azazel.”
“This is extremely valuable information. Thank you,” he said, then lowered his head for a minute, deep in thought.
“Well, care to share?” Serena asked him, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.
“It was thought to be just a rumor, but there was word that the swamp witches preserved their entire knowledge and spells in writing, hidden in three books that were lost throughout Eritopia. Now we know that the books exist and that the Dearghs of Klibi have one. There’s enough power in those books to deal a serious blow to Azazel.”
The Daughter rested her head on my shoulder, her arms around my waist. I welcomed her warmth and closed my eyes for a moment, quickly going over my second vision. A smirk made its way onto my face, and I let it take over.
“Oh, Draven, by the way, according to my second vision, your dad and Anjani’s older sister had the hots for each other,” I said, ending my statement with a light chuckle.
“What?” he hissed.
I pressed my lips together, smothering my laughter.
I looked over my shoulder and noticed Anjani by Vita’s bedside, glaring at me as if I was Azazel himself. A shiver ran down my spine.
I described the entire vision to Draven. I told them about the passage stone that Almus had given to Hansa and their conversation regarding the swamp witches’ books and further cemented my account by giving them full details of the kiss and the mention of introducing Hansa to Draven.
“Hansa never told me anything,” I heard Anjani say, with disappointment in her voice.
“Neither did my father,” Draven replied, clenching his jaw. “I never saw her here. I never met Hansa until the other day, which leads me to believe that this happened right before my father died. Before that full moon by which he’d promised he’d introduce us.”
“I’m sorry, man,” I said slowly, reminded of his loss and suddenly feeling like a bit of a jerk.
A Meet of Tribes Page 10
