Page 76 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“The Betrayer!” Amaren’s voice thundered out. “From the first of days until the very last, the wretched Maiden of the Sea, the Maiden of Death and Doom!” Amaren spoke with a black rage, the Shadow-weave around her writhing with each breath. She screamed the final words. A piercing shriek filled the air before all fell quiet. The court felt icy cold, all joy sucked from the room.
“I know her voice,” Mireithren said at last. “My Lady told me of her once, showed me a vision of her betrayal. I… I still can feel Her pain, when the hour is quiet and there are none around.What must I do, Amaren? Please, I will do anything as long as Therat survives!”
Mireithren rushed forward and fell at the feet of the Oracle, her wails filling the room. The celestial woman reached down and pulled the young maiden to her feet, wiping the tears from her scarred face.
“All you must do is live,lyneithra. The Maiden of Shadows, who brought first light and walked ever the path of peace, will be reborn from thy flesh and blood. You will wage a war and wipe the Godslayers from this earth, remove the taint of the Betrayer. I have seen this in my dreams and visions a thousand times and a thousand more. You are as inevitable as Death, but from you, Life will reign again.”
“A child,” she gasped. A strange expression twisted her face, as if part of her wished to shout for joy while the other descended into a murderous rage. “But what of the sacrifice demanded, what of Therat? My visions are unclear, my Lady’s messages half-understood. I cannot lose him!”
Mireithren’s wails filled the room. What did she know of his doom? Was his life forfeit so soon after finding such tenuous happiness? The Oracle’s words barely registered through his daze.
“When the time comes, the answer will be clear. The choice is yours, but a sacrifice must be made, for not all can be saved. Yet, do not let thy fear rule. Long are the lives of Eithranren’s Chosen. I have walked with our Lady, seen the First Era pass into flame, and still I remain untouched by Death. Grace may yet be extended to thy consort.”
Mireithren reached back for Therat and pulled him up next to her. He complied without question, mind reeling at the Oracle’s words. He knew Laisha was over three thousand years old after his conversations with Mireithren, but could barelycomprehend meeting someone who lived when the Seven still walked Eás.
Amaren reached out and took his hand, touch cool like summer in the darkest hours of night. She traced a swirling pattern over the back of his hand and up his forearm. His skin tingled under her fingers, a chill sinking into his skin before fading. The Oracle took Mireithren’s hand and made the same motion. She turned them both to face the court. Mireithren stood as if catatonic, her eyes as empty as the first night he saw her in the Market. Before he could pull her close and lift whatever reverie bound her, Amaren’s voice filled the room.
“Witness this day, these children of our Lady Eithranren! The Siren of Shadow, the First Flame in the Cold Night. From these lost Children, the Goddess will live again and the blood of the Betrayer will drip from their hands!”
The court erupted, their raucous cheering drowning Therat with the intensity. His mind raced with thoughts, pulled in a hundred directions with the overwhelming words of the Oracle. Divine in his own right, Therat would help return Eithranren to the world, his seed growing in Mireithren’s womb.
It all seemed an impossibility.
The only Goddess he needed was Mireithren.
thirty-six
The Shadow-Queen
Everything seemed to moveat hyper speed after the audience with the March-Lord and the Oracle Amaren. Mireithren found it impossible to process her thoughts. Every person they passed offered a hand in respect, seeking to provide their well wishes to the divine couple. She hated being the focus of attention, much lessthisattention. The hot blood in her cheeks never faded. Therat did not seem to be faring muchbetter, his eyes glassy and face bereft of the joy everyone else had. His hand never let go of hers.
After the audience with the Oracle and a procession through the courtyard, Laisha whisked them away. They stood now in a dingy little room, only four black walls and a logbook on a podium—not much bigger than a small bathroom in the estate of Mireithren’s former desert home.
“Are you ready to meet the Shadow-Queen now?” the pale woman asked after inscribing something in the book.
Laisha touched the middle of the far stone wall. It thrummed to life with activity. The surface changed and shifted until a clear window appeared. It looked into an ornate hall of white stone, vaulted ceilings filled with birds. Pillars sculpted into the shape of great wyrms of silver and pale blue lined the long corridor. At the very end stood a massive silver door. Etched upon the surface stood a white tree inscribed over a crescent moon.
“I hate to make you go through this again, but I have no choice,” Laisha said as she turned. “No one denies the Shadow-Queen Pherisa. Come now, at least you will know what to expect. I’m sorry I could reveal so little; even I did not know all the Oracle’s secrets until earlier today.” Laisha smiled. A weak thing, but it gave some comfort to Mireithren.
She remembered those long years ago when Laisha first found her, starved and dying from the cold on the godless ruins of Andeshar. How hers was the first sweet touch Mireithren had in years, words inspiring hope where none bloomed before. She had walked a long and winding road and always believed Laisha the key to her future, but the words of the Oracle sounded impossible.
A child? A child! And what of Therat, of the sacrifice? The Oracle speaks in riddles, her words do not comfort at all! But how can I refuse to trade Therat for a child when the child is myGoddess? Why does this torment never end? I thought coming here would end this, not cut my heart deeper!
Lost in her thoughts, Mireithren only caught the last of Therat’s words.
“… some rest? How can you upend our world and expect us to face hundreds of strange faces, smiling as if we are their salvation?” Therat did little to conceal his anger, voice strained as his hands curled into fists by his side. Shadows filled his eyes; they fled with Mireithren’s soft touch against his arm.
“I know you do not have a king or queen where you are from, but here, we do not disobey our Queen.” Laisha’s nostrils flared as she spoke. “The Queen has ruled for over a thousand years, and for a thousand more may she reign. All who have disobeyed her are dead. I would not want to be among them, would you?”
Therat grumbled something in reply. Too numb to talk, Mireithren shook her head and stepped forward to stand by Laisha’s side. Therat muttered under his breath but followed, clutching Mireithren’s hand.
“Come now,” Laisha said as dark shadows formed around her hands.
The trio stepped through the portal and onto a floor of pure white stone. The window closed behind them with a softwhoosh.
“Welcome to the Blackshade Palace,” Laisha said, sweeping her arms wide. “The White Jewel of Eithros Nav’iri. Here, our Shadow-Queen Pherisa and the Queen Consort Adairen reign. It has been their duty, and Amaren’s, to prepare for your coming and the return of our Goddess. You are stepping before royalty, but make no mistake, it isyouwho honor us.”
They stood in the grand halls of the Blackshade Palace, home of the Undying Queen. Sunlight beat down from windows covering the high ceiling. Fine paintings and tapestries lined the stone walls, their colors radiant in the soft amber light. Thesound of soft orchestral music filled the hallway, the melody pulling at something deep in Mireithren’s heart. She wanted to sing, though no words came to her throat.
