Page 9 of The Garnet Daughter
The temple shakes, the turbulent winds around us pull every curl of my hair from the tie, but I cannot stop. Even if this temple falls, I have to finish this spell.
“If Mother does not slumber alone, then those who lie at her side, do my bidding, wake!” The moment I finish, I know something is not right. I hear the voice as clearly as I did the firstnight in the forest of Frith, but it is darker, more ominous, and not of First Mother.
The spell has failed and it rejoices.
I was wrong. I was so very wrong.
Stone cracks beneath us, the walls opening as the temple purges what I have brought into it. A presence crawls to the surface, something powerful and ancient, the spell working partially with my untrained words. I feel it slithering its way up, freeing itself from the bounds I have broken.
The floor under our feet shakes and splits open, the old god I have summoned wanting to swallow us whole on its ascent to freedom.
I give into the splitting sensation of longing to fold and launch myself toward Ferren as the floor opens.
Her gasp manifests as we land across the temple, out of the circling storm around the place we just occupied.
Thea lets out a helpless sound, an agonizing echo in my ears as she succumbs to the fractured stones, disappearing as if she never stood there at all.
Ferren screams for her friend, her voice cracking and desperate as the quaking world rolls to a calm finish and finally settles.
I am frozen, staring at the giant crack, knowing an otherworldly presence is beneath it and I am to blame.
A blinding blue light shoots out and explodes into the space, readying itself to birth what is hiding inside.
“What happened? Where is she?” Ferren begs me for answers, and I curse the cowardly step I take away from her.
In the next moment, I fall to the floor, all the wind that collected pushing out and sending anyone in its path down.
When I open my eyes again, a figure is rising from the crack in the floor, and I know with every part of me it is not Thea.
It’s as if each one of its features is off by a fraction, mimicking a human woman but missing some details. An orb of bright blue light spins above the creature, sending splinters of lightning across its frail-looking form before it oozes down the monster as it pulls itself out of the crater. It basks in the bright light and transforms from creature to old god. Beautiful and terrifying.
The old god looks to Ferren and me, its head made of cracked pottery and liquid stars, water sloshing as it moves but never spilling over.
Celestial orbs in place of eyes blink in a humanlike manner when they fall back to Ferren.
And then I hear it, a word I have never heard in a language I did not know existed but somehow understand deep within myself.
“Abomination,” the old god declares upon Ferren.
The stars suspended in its open skull dart to the door, to the stones upon the altar and around the room at all who occupy it, as if taking in the place it was summoned to.
But with a push from wings that unfurl, the creature sends out a burst of wind. It opens the great doors and emits rays of light so bright, when they fade, my vision is so distorted I can only make out its shadowy figure departing through the stone canopy.
The sight of massive, flapping wings sobers me enough to see that it’s leaving with one of the stones.
My ears ring with the sudden silence, Ferren’s cries for her friend replacing everything else. I walk in a stumbling trance toward the altar where the worlds’ stones are laid; one is missing, and I am at fault. Water blurs my vision when I glance at Selene, her expression dazed and unreadable.
Ferren’s screams turn to rage as she speaks to an elder priestess in words I cannot make out. My heart beats in my ears,slow and steady, as if it is too weak for panic, too shattered to give me anymore strength.
Selene walks past me, maybe even through me, rushing to Ferren and telling her to seal the temple.
I turn away from them, a sob building in my whole body about to break me in half. My legs are bogged-down trunks as I walk toward the exit.
August strides down the broken aisle, jumping over a fallen beam to get to me faster as I say his name.
I reach him as the weight of my body is too much, dragging me down and crushing me into dust. His arms wrap around me, catching and holding me together.
I lean into the relief and give myself over to the pulling sensation wanting to take me to safety.
