Page 78 of Legacy of the Heirs
With those of white and those of black,
The spirit of the first makes their way back.
When the darkness returns, sacrifice is made,
In the wake of disaster, the return of the blade.
When light meets dark in the rarest of times,
When all that is left is the last of the lines.
The power to awaken that of old lore,
Lies in the soul of those with all four.
From fire and ice, the King and Queen must hide,
Secrets from the past, the heirs must find.
Only together can they defeat and restore,
Only together can they gain so much more.
The Gods may whisper and help them on,
Only if all possess that from Ithyion.”
Each heir glowed as the colours of their realms encircled them, extending for the sky. Blue coated Larelle’s skin and intertwined with the thrum of power running through her veins, yet the powerstuttered like a heart skipping a beat, not quite cementing within her. Light surrounded and pulsed around the other heirs, but it flickered, too.It isn’t holding.It’s not enough, Larelle realised as their radiance began to fade, threatening to disappear completely. As the moon covered the sun and swallowed the final slither of light, plunging the sky into darkness, Larelle whispered the final words to the prophecy—the words delivered by the Historian when he warned her of Kazaar.
“Watch for the dark one that will bring suffering to all: the rise of old power, the Kingdom will fall.”
Light exploded throughout the room, throwing Larelle’s hair up into the air, floating around her as she tightened her grip on the talisman and closed her eyes, blinded by its dominance in the dark room. Behind her eyelids, Larelle sensed it fading, and finally, she opened her eyes. The moon hovered before the sun, casting the city in darkness.
“Holy shit, it worked!” Nyzaia cut through the stunned silence. Slowly, Larelle lowered her eyes from the sky, but nothing prepared her for Nerida’s intent stare. She materialised as an apparition and stood on the table, looking down at her descendant. Larelle bowed her head on instinct and remained there until she felt the slightest touch against her shoulder. A shiver ran down Larelle’s arm before a tranquillity settled over her when her body recognised its maker. She met Nerida’s deep-blue eyes. Larelle could not read the goddess’ expression as she scanned Larelle’s features with a tilt of her head. She looked the same as the portrait in her father’s hidden room. Her silver tiara of waves pulled back her tightly coiled hair and framed her high cheekbones.
“Daughter of mine,” she whispered, her voice like silk. The panels of fabric on her ghostly dress floated around her like she was underwater, and Larelle craved to reach out and touch them—touch her. She was too stunned to speak, however, and was not the only one as she tore her eyes from Nerida’s watchful gaze. To her right, Soren knelt behind Sadira and Caellum, whose heads were alsobowed. The man standing on the table before them was tall, his side profile firm as he examined the three. While Larelle could not see him face on, she saw the scrunch of his face, and his frown as he peered at the two whose golden hair matched his and the man who wore the crown. Garridon stepped down from the table to survey them from all angles. Nerida floated until standing beside Larelle.
The movement allowed Larelle to see the others. Keres wore a smirk similar to Nyzaia’s as he watched her with a matching glow in his eyes.They look like siblings,Larelle thought, as did Kazaar, who stood to the side with his hand on Elisara’s shoulder. Vala towered over them with fury on her face as her silver hair floated around her frame. Her ice-blue gaze was different from the bright white reflected in Elisara’s, and it seemed to anger the goddess, who turned her back and surveyed the room before stepping down from the table. Larelle shifted in her seat and glanced to see if anyone else had noticed Vala’s behaviour though everyone was focused on their own gods.
The four gods paced the room and silently circled the table, a cold breeze trailing with their movements. Their voices echoed throughout the room, and while each spoke separately, their words formed full sentences.
“You call,” Nerida began.
“Upon us—”
“Why—”
“Children?” Garridon finished.
Larelle shifted under the weight of their booming voices echoing off the stone walls as each god spoke a word in turn. She tried to catch another ruler’s eye, but all were too distracted by their gods, except for Elisara, who stared at her hands.
“We need your help.” Larelle lifted her head to meet Nerida’s eye, who continued circling the room. A slight smile graced her face as Larelle spoke.
“You wake us—”
“For help—”
“For aid—”
