Page 96 of A Game of Monsters

Rafaela took a deep breath in and held it. She released it only when she was ready to tell me all the secrets she kept. “I was the one who sent Duncan back to Durmain as a child. One of many, who would act as failsafes if we ever required them. For generations we have been cultivating children for the sole purpose of discovering the Saviour. Of course, at the time we did not know what they would save us from. But as time went on, and the prophesied Saviour did not reveal themselves, others upon Irobel began to birth ideas and ideals of their own.”

“If Cassial believes he is the Saviour, then that means he is also born from both realms?”

“Made, not born.”

Made. There was something in her emphasis of the word that had my brain turning. “Who were Duncan’s parents?” I asked, regretting the question as soon as the answer came.

“Cassial was his father.” A devouring silence lay over me, threatening to drag me into its depths.

“Cassial?” I breathed.

“Unfortunately, yes. And his mother was a human woman who had devoted herself for generations to help protect our history.”

I balled my fists so tight that my fingertips ached from lack of blood flow. When my knees wobbled, I knew my sudden weakness had no corelation to the boat’s movement. A sudden and sharp need to turn back and run to Duncan’s side, to share this information with him, overcame me. No matter how horrifying this revelation was.

“Duncan deserves to know this.”

It had once been his life’s mission to discover his parentage until Aldrick’s lies made him believe they were long dead.

“And he will, in time. But it was important we got him back to Irobel, to play into the prophecy and ensure Duncan is the one to save the realms.”

“Duncan is in no state to stand up on his own, let alone save anyone,” I snapped.

Rafaela leaned into my shoulder, her touch exactly what I needed to calm the ice leaking from beneath my hands.

“Which is why he must reach Irobel. Duncan was born, but he must bemade– do you understand?”

I shook my head, information tangling in my mind “Nothing makes sense anymore.”

“It will, in Irobel, I promise.”

“What’s so special about Irobel?” I asked. “You made us believe all the Nephilim left. Not that we want their help when it is clear they all share the same vision that Cassial and the Creator have. The eradication of the fey, once and for all.”

“Not all the Nephilim shared in that vision,” Rafaela said. “I don’t. Gabrial didn’t. And there are thousands of others who also did not wish for the downfall of the fey.”

“And yet it is happening,” I said, shivering to the bone. “We are too late.”

“Not late, simply delayed.” Rafaela blinked heavily, her dark skin glowing as sea-salt spray crested over her.

“So where are these thousands of Nephilim who share your beliefs?” I asked, looking out into the endless dark, wondering if our hope of salvation sensed our pending arrival.

Rafaela took a deep breath in and finally released her hand from mine. “There is much I have told you, and much more that I have not. You must first understand that I was chosen as the Creator’s hammer. Protector of his word. But with the spreading of his truth, I understood the importance of lies. How they played a part in, hopefully, saving the world from the inevitable repeat of history. The web of them is iron-clad and tangled, but I want to unravel them, so you understand.”

“Then do that,” I pleaded. “Help me understand.”

Duncan. Cassial. Prophecies. Saviours. So many words, and they all made as little sense as the next.

“It began with our arrival to Durmain. We told you that we came to protect you from Duwar – a demon-god. That was the first lie, and not a singular one. Duwar is no god, nor is Duwar a demon. Duwar is simply a source of the world’s power.”

I am power.

“Duwar told me that,” I admitted, “but I didn’t believe it.”

“Because you were made to believe Duwar was evil. You trusted in a truth you believed, that is not your fault. And with all power, it is not inherently evil or good. It is how power is used which determines that. The same goes for people. Gods. Nothing is simple. Look at the power that is in you, compared to what Doran Oakstorm coveted. You see, it is the wielder of a weapon with bad intentions that is evil, the blame does not fall upon the weapon itself.”

“I understand that,” I said, “but what I don’t understand is why I saw Duwar as the demon… their physical reflection. How can my mind debunk what my own eyes saw?”

“Perspective, Robin Icethorn. You saw what you were made to believe. Just as humans look to Cassial as a hero who saved them from evil fey; it is merely their perspective and not the truth as we know it.” Rafaela turned her back to the view of the sea, leaning against the railing with powerful arms folded over her chest. “Duwar has always been the epicentre of a great divide between the two gods. Altar and the Creator – before their kin gave them names – were simply beings using chaos, or Duwar as you know it, as a means to sculpt the world as we knew it. On Irobel, we have texts on texts about it, describing a time we have named the Game of Monsters. It was those texts that Duncan’s birth mother looked after – until Cassial decided she was not worthy enough to continue her task and gave her a new one.”

---