Page 145 of Between Wrath and Mercy

“Do you feel that?” I whispered up at him, staring up at the giant red cedar doors, appearing eerily blood-drenched in the midday sun at the top of the stairs.

“Feel what?” He squeezed my hand, and I felt him watching me.

“Dread. Revulsion. Like if we step inside that building, we won’t step out.”

He watched me as my gaze was drawn upwards, my eyes on the statue of Aonara sitting on the smaller peak of the building between the two spires. The shape of the cathedral was an ‘X’ with a statue of each of the gods at the end of the branches. I remembered some of my lessons as I tried to place where each of the gods stood. Aonara faced east while Ciarden faced west; Rhia sat to the north and Hanwen to the south. All four were carved out of the same basalt stone, and none struck me as a particularly welcoming likeness compared to the drawings in the pamphlets the Myriad passed out. I studied Aonara, trying to draw a comparison between the statue made out of this dark rock and the ethereal vision made of moonlight I’d seen before.

“We’ll be alright, Emma. I was just here the other day. We’ll drink from the font, go home, and prepare for the Cascade. One step at a time.” He took my arm and planted one foot on the bottom-most stair, and I froze, my divinity’s wild fragmented beating sending shivers up my spine. I was terrified.

“I can’t.” I was whispering again as I pulled away from Rain. Taking a step back, I looked at him, meeting his confused gaze with my frantic one.

“Em, we have to. We’ll lose each other’s divinity if we don’t drink.”

“We can just keep doing the Body ceremony.”

“Emma, you know that’s not how it works. Unless we complete the whole ceremony, it’ll just wear off. Youknowthis.” Rain’s voice was patient if firm. As if he was talking to a particularly stubborn child.

“You really don’t feel that, do you?” Though it was dry, with not a cloud in the sky, something cool and wet dripped down the back of my neck, following the path of my spine. When I lifted my hand to wipe the water away, I found I was completely dry. What the hell was happening? What was this place? Rain’s expression softened as he watched me before softly shaking his head. “Rain, I’m scared.”

“I know. But you’re one of the most courageous people I’ve ever met. If anyone can do this, it’s you.” He held out his arm again and waited. I knew he was right. My thoughts were drawn back to Miriam. The Myriad Mistress who looked me in the face, lookedher deathin the face, and prayed for me. She had made a choice in the face of fear, to do the right thing, whatever it was. The least I could do was honor her memory and show courage in the face of fear, of the Myriad, to do what I needed to do. We didn’t have a choice if we wanted to share our abilities. And to protect Elora, I’d utilize every advantage we could get our hands on. And then after, after it was done, we would utilize our advantage to figure out what Filenti was doing, to avenge the woman who looked death in the eye and comforted her.

While inside, I wouldn’t be able to hear heartbeats or heal anyone, and the thought made me feel naked and vulnerable. That was likely the reason for the debilitating energy my divinity was giving off, nothing more. Or at least that was what I needed to convince myself. I took Rain’s arm and a deep breath.

“Let’s hurry.” I steeled myself, attempting to create the courageous person he claimed I was before we quickly climbed the stairs.

Chapter 46

Icountedthestepsas we walked. There were ninety-seven leading to the twin set of wooden doors, each of which were easily twice Rain’s height. When we reached the top, I tilted my head back to look at the pointed arch above the doors. Within it, recessed into the wall, was a detailed relief sculpted into the stone. Larger than the rest of the figures within the scene, Aonara and Ciarden were in the middle, performing a handfasting ceremony. Rhia and Hanwen were on either side, encased in ornamental circles. Rhia held two babes, one in each arm, while Hanwen held a shield and spear. To the side of each door, there was a bust of a drake, jutting from the wall. Both beasts had their maws open in a silent scream, each tooth nearly as long as my forearm. Drakes were creatures of myth and nightmares, monstrosities created by the gods and for the gods, only walking the earth during the time of their creators. If the sculptures were any indication of their size, drakes would easily have been as tall as the giant doors which stood in front of us. The stories told us they were creatures of muscle and aggression—determined destruction in the form of sinew and scale. The monster to my left had spikes rising from the center of its skull, moving toward its spine. The other creature had twin horns jutting out from either side of its massive head. Hanwen was often depicted riding one into battle, he and his mount standing tall over the men who sat on horseback on either side. I shuddered at the thought.

A low creak came from one of the doors, drawing my attention. I’d been trying to ignore the dread stemming from my chaotic divinity, but seeing the cloaked and covered novice standing in the door, beckoning us forward, I latched onto Rain like a lifeline. My fingers dug into his arm much deeper than was likely comfortable, but he pulled me along patiently. We stepped over the threshold, and the door shut behind us, taking all of the air in the room with it. I truly struggled to breathe for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the deep dark within the cathedral. The high chandeliers set in the ceiling did little to lighten the space, their flame barely able to puncture the quiet dark below it. It was stifling. I reached for the well of my divinity and found nothing—the thrum gone, the connection snapped. I felt for those tiny golden threads between Rain and I and nearly fainted at their absence. I clutched him tighter, knowing our only way through this was forward. He placed his other hand atop mine and brushed his thumb in gentle circles over the back of my hand. I felt his gaze on me but knew if I met his eyes, I’d lose control of my frenzied emotions. I was barely holding it together, the intense discomfort something that made me nauseated and terrified to my core.

As my eyes adjusted, I was able to take in the impressive display of architectural perfection before us. I could see clear across the length of the cathedral, an open space from the entryway all the way to the opposite end filled with countless chairs for worshippers. The space was bracketed on either side by an arcade, the tall, pointed arches reaching easily fifteen meters from the ground. The ceiling itself was made of intersecting pointed arches, ribs dark against the light-colored plaster. The novice led us toward the right arcade, our footsteps muffled by the long carpet stretching the length of path, passing through to the northernmost section of the cathedral. Moving beneath another pointed arch, we made our way through to a giant library filled with ancient texts, the scent of old parchment wafting through the room. The ceiling wasn’t as high in this room as it was in the main part of the cathedral, but books covered every bit of available wall space.

“They’re taking us straight to the Supreme,” Rain whispered, his voice barely a breath as he held my hand tightly on his arm, attempting to lace his fingers through my white-knuckled digits.

Leading us down a darkened hallway, the torchlight on the walls doing little to illuminate the dark stones, the novice brought us before a closed door and rapped their knuckles lightly before turning and walking away.

“Is that our royal visitor?” The voice I heard was weaker than I anticipated. I’d heard stories of the Supreme, and though most tales spoke of a kind and wizened man, there were quite a few portraying him as cunning and headstrong. Rain dropped the arm I held onto and grasped my hand firmly. He caught my gaze, his emerald eyes nearly black in the dim lighting but glittering with life all the same. His expression told me to have faith in him, his eyes promising safety and resolution I wasn’t sure he could give. Nonetheless, I would trust him.

Rain opened the door and pulled us into the room, nodding to the Supreme. Following his lead, I did the same, not sure what proprieties we were supposed to offer each other. The room was lit better than the cathedral itself, one chandelier hanging down to light the space. Rich earth tones filled the room; sage curtains hung from the narrow window, a rust-colored rug, plush, laid beneath our feet, and the furniture was made of deep walnut. It was cozy and warm, a fire crackling behind the grate.

“Your Holiness.” Rain spoke the words, and I quietly murmured the same.

“Your Highnesses, congratulations are in order.” The smile the Supreme gave was warm, matching the deep brown eyes watching with curiosity and a joviality which surprised me. The man who stood before us was only a bit taller than I was, dressed in the white robes I was accustomed to from members of the Myriad. I knew the Supreme was a conduit, gifted in divinity not dissimilar to my own. My original divinity. He was a healer and a renowned one at that. I wondered how he could possibly stand to be in this place all hours of the day, to live in it, unable to use his divinity unless he ventured outside. I pushed the thought away, realizing again that I seemed to be much more affected than the other conduits who stood with me. The Supreme chuckled, pulling both of our empty hands toward him, and I was struck by how cold and smooth his hand was. As the Supreme, he had drunk from the font without performing the bonding ritual, supposedly granted divine permission from the gods. Though his face told of age perhaps a decade older than Rain, I knew he was far older. His dark brown hair was cropped short, allowing me to see a gnarled scar going from ear to ear over the crown of his head. His smile was kind, and his voice reminded me of my father—from when I was a small child, the voice that soothed when I’d gotten a scrape, the voice that stayed calm when he mediated mine and Lucia’s arguments. It helped, this calming presence when my divinity felt strangled.

He held each of our hands in one of his and closed his eyes, head tilted toward the heavens, and began to chant. It was a language I didn’t know, but the cadence told me it was an old language, one ours may have been fully rooted into. I watched him curiously, this performance a distraction from the absence of the thrumming that had been part of me for as long as I could remember. Finally, his eyes opened, and he smiled.

“A blessing for you both,” he explained as he let go of our hands. “Now, do either of you have any questions for me before I escort you to the font?”

Rain startled, the jolt of his arm imperceptible to anyone but me.

“You’llbe escorting us? I assumed it would be one of the masters taking us.”

“It will be me.” He smiled again, and I calmed a bit. There was something about him that soothed, making me second guess my trepidation. Being inside the building was still uncomfortable, but the Supreme himself was comforting. “I go when I deem it important. I anticipate the two of you will be King and Queen of Vesta soon enough and integral to—well, to quite a variety of plots.”

Rain nodded, and though I could feel his uncertainty, his grip on my hand loosened the tiniest amount.

“No questions?” He looked between the two of us, and we stayed silent. “Well, off we trot.” The Supreme clapped his hands together in a way that vividly reminded me of our old butler, Mr. Carson. The chipper tone accompanying the clap was jarring coming from the man who was in charge of the Myriad.

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