Page 103 of Of Realms and Chaos

“I said I would send you home, but I didn’t say when.”

I froze, stopping just before the archway. Turning slowly, I narrowed my eyes, fists clenching at my sides to avoid swinging at him. His face was calm, not betraying any of his true emotions beneath the façade.

“Liar,” I hissed, wishing I could scream instead.

“No, I’ll follow through with my promise. I always keep my word. Do remember that fact, Asher.” It was rare that he said my name, and hearing it now was unsettling. With a deep sigh, he continued. “If you still wish to go home at the week’s end, then I’ll return you there, along with your bossy feline friend.”

He said ‘if’ as though he expected I would not want to go. That alone told me just how foolish and mad he truly was.

“Take me to Wrath,” was all I said, unable to express just how furious I was. If he wanted to spend a week with me, then that was a mistake on his part, which I would gladly make him regret.

Without a word, Padon walked ahead of me, forging a path to a wide door with silver swirls etched onto it. He slid it open, the door somehow disappearing within the wall. Inside was a sight to behold.

If the library in The Royal City was large, then Padon’s was colossal. A set of winding glass stairs sat at the very center of the room, branching off to the many floors above. Books lined most of the walls, even more tomes residing on glass shelves that were placed intermittently to form small walkways. Gray curtains had been pulled back from the large window on the right wall, showing a sky so blue it almost looked green. The color reflected off of the room of glass, casting rainbows across the floor.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, trying and failing to tamper my awe at the sight. Padon’s answering chuckle told me that I was doing a poor job of concealing that excitement. Facing him, I glared, reminding him that—no matter what beauty lay within these walls—I would still loathe him by the end of the week.

“Well, well, if it is not my Strange One. You should be embarrassed by your tardiness, but I imagine you are not.”

My head whipped towards the horrifying sound of Wrath’s voice, a smile tugging at my lips. The dalistori popped his head out from one of the long aisles, sporting his normal size. Nothing could have stopped me from running to him then, not even the small hiss he let out when he realized my plan. I scooped his large body into my arms, burying my head in his silky fur. He slowly shrank, turning himself into the size of a domesticated cat, and then he rubbed his small head against mine.

“Do not scare me like that again, Asher. You are mine, and I am yours. We are…” He hesitated, as if the words that were about to come out of his mouth would burn. “We are family.”

“I love you too, Wrathy.” I stood like that, holding him far tighter than I should and listening to his soft purr as I pet behind his ears, until Padon cleared his throat. Groaning, I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, a smile on his ridiculous face.

“I’ll let you two have some time together. The kitty knows where your bedroom is whenever you’re ready to get settled. If you need me, my door is right next to yours.” With a wink and a wave, Padon left, sliding the door closed behind him.

“There is something odd about that male,” Wrath murmured, his head tilted to the side. It reminded me of Bellamy, and suddenly, my mind was at work once more. We needed to find a way out of here. Eternity knows Padon would likely not send us home any time soon, no matter what he promised.

“Wrath, as much as I love cuddling you, we need to figure out a way home.” The dalistori scoffed, swatting my face before jumping out of my arms. It would never get old riling up the creature, nor would it ever not amaze me to watch him grow triple his size midair, landing on paws far larger than they were mere seconds ago.

“If you tell the orange demon what I said, I will deny it.” Of course he would.

Chuckling, I walked towards the closest set of shelves. How long had it been since I read? I used to pick up a book every day. Now, the mere act of running my fingers across the spines felt foreign. Was it possible to both lose and find yourself at the same time?

“What are you looking for?” Wrath asked, his head nudging my hip. In front of us, a book wrapped in black leather caught my eye. The Story of Stella was written on the spine in sparkling white foil. The smell of old paper and ink filled the air as I pulled the particularly large tome off the shelf.

“Research.”

Neither of us spoke as I sat down, patting the floor to my right. Wrath curled up beside me, and then, with the hope that Stella was somewhere out there and rooting for me, I opened the book. It naturally opened up to a page that was—yuck—dog-eared. What sociopath would do such a thing?

Padon, probably. The fiend.

At the top of the page, in stunning script, read The Birth of a Blessing.

Settling further in, I began to read.

On the night when the sun was distant, hidden behind the four moons, an heir was born. Stella beheld her youngest daughter, a striking mixture of herself and the one she was soul-bonded to—the great love of her existence. Her eldest daughter, named after the sun itself, sat on her other side, their family now complete.

Behind them, standing in the corner, was a male with unfathomable magic. His veins were filled with Death and Creation, a blessing and a curse. The doler of life and loss locked eyes with Stella, and she nodded, smiling over at him. With bated breath, he made his way to the happy family, steps unsure. When he was close enough to see the baby, he gasped, watching as her body lit up, her magic brighter than any he had ever seen.

“We will name her Asta, for she is of divine strength. Asta, for she is crafted of the stars themselves. Asta, for she is love, and love shall conquer.”

I smiled at the story, which had been written quite intimately for historical text. That was when I noticed another page that had been horrifically bent, and I skipped to it. This page had no title, beginning in the middle of a section.

On the seventh day of the seventh month, Asta traveled to the new and interesting world her mother had found. Tanabata had been her father’s favorite holiday, just as it had been her sister’s. They were gone now, and Asta would never hear their laughs or feel their embrace again. It was something she could not voice, the type of pain that left her questioning the future that had been awarded her. The destiny she was told was hers.

Asta roamed the lands of the self-proclaimed demons, their magic a mere fraction of her mother’s.

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