Page 55 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“Or not.”
“Or…you could tell me what brought you here so late.”
The Orange Watcher stood, adding a sun tree branch to the pyre. The flame, weakened from the storm, flared back to life, glowing bright white. Burning embers popped, vanishing into the smoke.
I squeezed the excess water from my hair, pulling the wet locks off my neck. “I’m becoming a soturion tomorrow, and considering all the punching and push-ups I’m about to do, I thought it best to start praying now.”
“You’re what? Are they farther than Lethea?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“It has nothing to do with my confidence in you and everything to do with…how difficult training is—especially when you’re unprepared.”
“How about a new topic?” I suggested, my stomach twisting. “How are you?”
“Nice deflection.” But he shrugged in response. His hair, curling from the rain, fell wildly over his scar. He pushed his locks back, but they immediately opened into loose waves, sprouting over his forehead. He didn’t seem to know what to do with it at this length. I doubted he’d ever had hair this long before. Most soturi kept it cut short to avoid it being pulled by opponents.
“Are they treating you all right here?” I asked.
“I’m forsworn. Lucky not to be killed in my sleep. At least the lock to my apartment works.”
“That sounds like a no, then.”
“I have a roof over my head, food to eat. I can take care of myself.” He shrugged again, and his gaze shifted, scanning the high walls. “Now, no more questions. I’m here to take in the art.”
“You came here for the art?” I asked.
“I did, actually.” There was a vulnerability in his eyes, one I’d seen when we danced. He was telling the truth. “Don’t look so surprised.”
“I…I didn’t realize you cared for art.”
“You know, if you’re going to be one of us, you really need to learn we’re more faceted than just punching and push-ups.”
“Right,” I said and looked up.
Seven stories high, the temple was full of depictions from the Valya, our most sacred text, telling the story of the creation and loss of the Valalumir. Paintings adorned the high windows and walls that surrounded us.
In the first scene, the god Canturiel in Heaven was seen dreaming in his garden, his hands shaping the light into existence as he sang. The Valalumir was a light, a pure white flame simultaneously revealing and concealing every color of the rainbow within it. Canturiel had sung all of his love and power and magic into it, and so the light burned brighter than any other in Heaven, even brighter than the sun. With all of the love poured inside, one could stare directly into it without harm. The Valalumir offered heat but did not burn. It offered light but did not blind. It healed those who were ill and strengthened those who felt weak. It enhanced beauty and skill, calmed upset minds, and improved the lives of all who gazed upon it.
The next painting showed the battle for the light in the Celestial Realms. Akadim, created from Gods and Goddesses who’d fallen to corruption, planned an invasion to steal the light, breaching Heaven. To keep the akadim from ever existing in the Celestial Realms again, an army of Gods and Goddesses imprisoned the monsters on Earth. That was how evil came to Lumeria. For a millennium, Gods and Goddesses incarnated there as humans in an attempt to protect Earth from the blight they’d sent. They continued fighting until mortality trapped them.
Though the akadim were now banished from the Celestial Realms with no chance of breaching Heaven, the Council still feared for the Valalumir’s safety, moving the light from Canturiel’s garden to the Hall of Records. Seven guardians, including the red-haired Goddess Asherah and the golden-haired God Auriel, were chosen to protect the light, to take shifts watching it day and night.
The guardians were forbidden from any and all affairs that might distract from their duties, especially affairs with each other. They were not allowed to marry and had been sworn to remain chaste. But as the years passed, Auriel and Asherah fell in love, and as much as they tried, they could not resist each other.
When Moriel, one of the seven guardians, discovered the affair, he reported them to the Council. Asherah was banished to Earth in the body of a mortal. It was after the age when Gods and Goddesses had willingly descended, since almost all had fallen into the mortal coil. But they made an exception for her as punishment. Asherah joined the wars against the growing force of the akadim. She became an arkturion, the general of her own army of soturi, but her weakened state put her in increasing danger. That was when Auriel made the decision that changed everything. Asherah was his soulmate, his true love, and he was going to bring her every ounce of aid he could.
He stole the Valalumir from the Hall of Records and fell from Heaven. The fall changed Auriel, and it changed the Valalumir. The beloved golden-haired God was now mortal. The once great and powerful light materialized, its flames hardening into a star-shaped crystal. But just before the light finished its transformation from ether to crystal, Auriel placed a spark inside Asherah’s heart in an attempt to save its essence before dying. And so a flicker of light of the Valalumir in its purest form lived inside her until she died.
Rhyan watched the paintings reenacting the story. I’d never seen the moving art of Lumeria come alive. Not without magic.
“It’s different from my temple at home.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Yours tells the story the way my mother used to tell me.”
I watched him carefully; he was truly absorbed in the art, a look of awe on his face.
“How did she tell it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “You’re not going to get me to play storyteller.”
