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February 19 - March 3, 2025
as were all the healers since their magic derived from the Earth Magic in Ganiea—
All Praiton was trying to do was reclaim the magic of the Mother Goddess. The true deity of this land.
“These are rebellion sympathizers. Praiton dissenters. Possible spies for the bloody rebels of the Pillar Legion. Why waste your magic on trying to save them?”
The farmer’s burns from the Ember Magic wielders of Maniel. A male beside him with thick vines wrapped around his neck, courtesy of the Earth Magic users of Ganiea. A woman towards the back of the cell, choking on water, drowning from the inside out after a run-in with the Sea Fae from the Laenimore region.
Imprisoned for the sin of voicing their disagreement with Praiton’s overthrowing of the surrounding kingdoms.
She knew it was her duty to do what the Mother demanded. Knew it was what was expected of a true Praitonian. Yet why did she feel like a sham of a healer leaving the swells of death below in the dungeon?
Things in Praiton had grown darker since King Rodric had fallen ill. War had erupted under the leadership of the king’s steward, Lord Decius. For years, Praiton had overthrown almost all the surrounding Pillar Kingdoms
Everyone knows you’re the strongest healer we have.” He gave her a cheeky grin and she felt herself deflating a little, even if her heart sank at his words. “You’re even stronger than Mother Clarita. Don’t think she doesn’t notice.”
To speak ill of Praiton would be treason. It would be a death sentence. It would mean becoming one of those poor souls in the dungeon. And besides, she had never been allowed to speak freely within these walls.
And while she pretended like she was the Holy Mother, the face of the Mother Goddess, the giver of Life and the balance of the realm, Mother Clarita was none of those things.
Athena had raised Deya alone in a small village on the outskirts of Wexbridge. To this day, Deya knew nothing of her father since her mother rarely spoke of him, only that he was from Ganiea.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were mute.” “No, not mute.” She swung the axe again, this time chipping a bit of stone. “Though, if I was, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”
She smiled at him—the feeling foreign but nice. Comforting. It was similar to the feeling her Healing Magic would give her.
The battle that had killed High King Castor had taken place nearly fifty years ago. Nodaria had been the last kingdom to fall to Praiton. “Castor was one of the most powerful High Kings—save maybe for High King Ulf in Bridah. But he not only continuously held the top floor of the palace, Atlas Keep, above the clouds to help with their astronomers’ stargazing, but he also kept it permanently at the twilight hours. When he died, they said the top floor came tumbling to the ground.”
“That is the power of the High Kings. The Royal Bloodlines are said to link directly to the goddesses each region worships.”
The Mother Goddess was said to be the mother of the five, each having their own set of magic that was now wielded respectively in each region where that goddess had come from.
“Praiton outlawed the worship of all other goddesses but the Mother,”
Mav was the Creator. Her set of scales that she carries represents her devotion to Balance. That’s why it’s said that she created the human race, to balance against the fae. She is the goddess of life itself.”
Deya had never seen a human before. They were said to live on a continent many miles from Krigor.
“Mav’s purpose of balance created her five daughters. The Harvest Goddess, Arista; the Sea Goddess, Eula; the Ember Goddess, Calida; the Celestial Goddess, Astrea; and the Frost Goddess, Flykra. They were created in pairs, to balance the other—except for Arista, that is. Arista was to represent the Earth, the grounding of the realm as a whole. And so, the worship of these Goddesses gave each region their power.” Deya blinked, aghast. “The worship itself was the source of the region’s power?”
Some believe that the worship of a certain goddess will strengthen that particular power and region.
She had never lived in a world where Praiton didn’t control most of the realm. Her magic had always been the same level to her. True, it sometimes felt weaker now and then, but otherwise steady. Was this because of Praiton’s ban on the Earth Goddess, Arista?
He let her cry for everything she had lost and everything that was still to come.
“Promise me you will warn them. Praiton cannot get what they seek . . . Promise me that you’ll tell them. Promise you will fight this.
Nodarians notoriously had dark hair and purple eyes. She had assumed the male was from Bridah because of his white hair—usually a signature feature of the Frost Throne region.
“Let my death be on his hands then.” One eyebrow rose slightly, almost as if he were taken aback. “I can live with that,” he growled.
“I was in Atlas Keep the day Praiton raided it. I was captured and imprisoned. There is no more you need to know.”
“It makes you wonder though,” she said quietly. “What his story really is. Nodarians are the biggest part of the rebel forces. For him to have been captured and held since the Battle for Atlas . . .”
likely to get a mix of physical features, the magic itself was always ever one or the other. No one was able to inherit two different types of magic.
“What did Praiton tell you the war was about?” she asked. “How did they justify it to you?” Deya’s mouth parted, the question taking her aback. “I . . . They had always told us that it was to preserve the worship of the Mother Goddess and our way of life,” Deya admitted, the shame making it difficult to meet Val’s gaze. “They told us that the other kingdoms did not worship like we did. That it was a threat to the balance of the realm.”
His blue-tinted skin appeared sunken, his cheekbones pronounced, and Deya wondered if he was dehydrated. The kingdom of Laenimore was home to the Sea Throne. She knew this kingdom was built upon a settlement of nymphs—purely water-breathing creatures with high intelligence but minimal magic. Over time, the fae and the nymphs intermingled, giving birth to most of the population of Laenimore.
“Reversed itself?” Nodding, still deep in thought, he said, “It appears that the pain and trauma you suffered at the whipping post mutated it. Turned it.”
ironic, she thought, that she now possessed this immense, destructive power, yet she couldn’t use it without the risk of killing everyone around her.
“How about,” he snarled, “when we get to Latchside Landing, I’ll pitch you all into the harbor and leave you there to drown?” Val growled in protest, but Rayner shrugged good-naturedly. “I can’t drown, so I wish you the best of luck with that.”
“Can I ask you something?” Deya said quietly. His purple eyes flashed. “No,”
“And here I was thinking you finally got him to take you on the forest floor or something.”
Caelum didn’t know what it was about this female that kept causing him to have to carry her, hold her, or otherwise be very, very close to her.
She had faced death purely to get away from him. A fact he had not missed.
and he wondered how it was so easy to be angry at something so helpless.
No matter how much the male riled her, she hated to admit that being around him was exhilarating.
“Prophecies are made frequently all over Nodaria by the star seers, always given in our ancient tongue that few speak. And when they are made, they appear on the subject’s skin.”
“You were brainwashed your whole life,” he said. “Forced to believe their dogma and their lies, punished when you questioned or disagreed. It is not loyalty you feel, Deya. It is fear.”
“The world was beautiful then. Rich with all the kingdom’s different cultures and magic. We were able to move freely between kingdoms, welcome as guests anywhere. Now, everyone is suspicious. We have all been conquered now, besides Bridah, and what used to make each kingdom special and unique is much . . . less,”
She would’ve done it, too, except she had a feeling even stabbing him in the heart wouldn’t kill him.
“Where you came from is irrelevant to me,”
You are not your kingdom, Deya.
“How much you want to bet Caelum would die rather than lose to her?” Rayner asked her, smirking. Deya laughed. “I’d bet the treasury of every kingdom that you’re probably right.”
She didn’t know what made her ask again, only that Caelum was beginning to feel more and more like a book she hadn’t read, a book she needed to read.
“You just looked like you wanted to eat me,” Rayner said. “The other smile was a real one.”
“You? Train her? No offense, friend, but I don’t think either of you should be around each other armed.” “He wants her to be trained,” Caelum said coldly. “I’ll train her.” Rayner gave him a derisive look. “No, you’ll torture her.”
