Isle of Wysteria: The Monolith Crumbles (46 page)

Athel sadly rolled up the scroll and held it in her hands. “The old me, she’s the one who doesn’t deserve to be here. She’s the one who gave in to you when she should have remained strong, and now we are going to run out of clean water because of her. She’s the one who let Spirea live. This war, all this death. This is her fault. All of it!”

A tear fell from her chin. “She’s guilty…she’s a traitor, and there can be only one sentence for that.”

Privet stepped in close. “You’re wrong.”

Athel held the scroll up to her heart. “No, I’m not.”

“No, you are wrong,” he stated firmly. “The old you, she’s the one who spared the lives of everyone in the navy who had been sent to destroy her forest. She wouldn’t even consider killing them, even though she could have easily done so. I know; I was there. The old you, she’s the one who spared Spirea’s life, not because she was a fool, but because she was decent and merciful. She’s the one that even now is trying to save Spirea and bring her back. The old you, the new you, I don’t believe they’re different people. I think they’re the same person, just at different seasons.”

Privet reached out and pulled her to him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He could feel her tremble under the weight of all the guilt she felt.

“Yes, you’ve changed, but so have I,” he said quietly. “Who doesn’t change as they grow?”

He placed his strong hand on her head and stroked it. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his muscular chest.

“When did you get all wise?” she sniffed.

“You couldn’t have known what Spirea would become, Athel. She’s responsible for the people she’s killed, not you.”

Athel’s lip trembled. “I wish I could make myself believe that.”

“And you aren’t responsible for Setsuna abandoning her post. That was her decision.”

It surprised her how much better she felt. Admitting all these things, speaking aloud all the guilt she held, it was like a weight had been lifted off her heart. She still felt awful about it, but somehow it felt more bearable.

“That’s okay,” she teased. “We’ll just blame you for Setsuna.”

Privet gave her a kiss on the lips, and she kissed him back. When they parted, he caught Alder looking at him approvingly.

“Well done,” Alder praised, closing his eyes peacefully.

“All right,” Privet said, polishing up the key. “Right now, we need to focus on the task at hand, and track Setsuna down.”

Athel took up her staff. “I better not find out she’s pregnant or something.”

“Drop it.”

“No, I’m about to drop it. About to drop you and our engagement.”

“Deutzia might have something to say about that,” he teased. “I need a keyhole.”

Athel spun her staff and the door to the corridor opened, her guards waiting on the other side. Nikki returned with a handful of navy doctors.

“Be ready, we are opening a door to Ronesia,” the Queen announced.

She tapped her staff and the living wood on the far wall changed its shape into a traditional door with a keyhole. Alder grabbed his towel and fought off a fresh round of coughing.

“To where?” Nikki asked.

While the doctors came up to Alder and began examining him, Privet placed the key in the door, and the magic within it sprung to life. The edges of the door were bathed in mist, and it pulsed like a heartbeat.

Privet stepped back and the door opened, and he found himself looking into the living room of his house, as if he had just opened the front door.

“That is so unreal,” Privet said aloud.

“How is that possible?” Nikki wondered, fearing to draw closer.

Privet stepped through, and breathed in the cozy mountain air. He motioned for the others to follow, which they did so hesitantly. Even as often as he had passed through Setsuna’s gates, it still seemed unbelievable to him that they were now on the other side of Aetria.

Hearing a rustle from the bedroom, Privet and the Queen ran in. Inside, they found a startled Setsuna. Her mascara was running with tears, her eyes puffy from crying. She had a sack, and was filling it with the contents of Privet’s pried open safe.

“Setsuna, we found you.”

“Oh,” she sniffed, smearing her makeup as she wiped her face. “I, uh, was just grabbing a few things.”

Privet looked down at the bag of his gemstones. “I see that. Setsuna, we need to talk to you.”

She held up her hand. “There’s…really nothing more to say, so let’s not get all sappy here, ‘kay?”

She sniffed. “You…you may have won my heart, but I couldn’t win yours.”

She looked sadly over at Athel. “It always belonged to her.”

“This isn’t about that,” Privet insisted. The gate is breaking down. We need you to…”

Setsuna hefted the bag over her shoulder and stepped backwards. The Queen raised her staff and the tree outside smashed through the window to grab her, but its branches wrapped around nothing but air as the gate snapped closed behind her.

“No! Blast it!” Privet yelled. He ran up to the ruined window and looked outside desperately.

But it was useless. She was gone. All that remained was Setsuna’s key lying on the ground, a single tear resting on her half of the heart.

Nikki and the others came in.

“We’ve got to track her down. We need that gate,” the Queen stated coldly.

“Can you think of where she might have gone?” Nikki asked, stepping through the papers discarded from the safe.

Talliun snapped her brass fingers. “Her sister. Yeah, she’s always talking about her sister.”

Privet forced himself to focus. “Yes, she told me that she became a pirate in the first place to buy her sister back from gambling debts.”

Nikki picked up some of the papers and began looking through them. “She must have gone there then, we just have to find where she lives.”

The Queen shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. She told Alder that her sister died fighting in a Kkor arena when they were kids.”

Privet furrowed his brow. “That can’t be right. She told Dwale that after she banished their abusive father, her sister went to live with a foster family on Senndai.”

They all looked at each other in confusion.

Nikki scanned a document closely. “Was her sister’s name Sawyn by any chance?”

“Yes, why? How did you know that?”

Nikki held it up for all too see. “This is the purchase contract from when she bought this house. Look at the signature there.”

They all stepped in to look closer.

“Sawyn is Setsuna’s middle name.”

* * *

“Where is Poe?” the god Quetah bellowed, his mane of hair like fire, his eyes like flame. His voice caused the ground to shake and the clouds to part above.

“He is not coming,” Odesi the Pure answered as he sat in meditation, his blue skin pulsing with power.

The collected gods murmured amongst themselves angrily.

“I told you he wouldn’t come,” Jabint the Martyr hissed, his skin prickly with icicles like a porcupine’s.

“He is drunk with rage,” the Thunder goddess Celina said, storm clouds pouring down her frame like writhing robes. “He’s not just sending in his pawns, he’s leading the attacks personally.”

The god Nehirana leaned back against the earth, the land rolling up to let him lounge, drinking down a mighty flagon of wine. “We should begin without him. This is a waste of time.”

The goddess Ikkchit held up her fist, her skin made of coarse earth and stone. “A waste of time? My territory has been invaded, my temples destroyed, my sanctuaries defiled, my monuments toppled.”

Quetah laughed, fire spilling out of his mouth. “If you cannot defend your own, then you do not deserve your own. That is the pact we all agreed to in the beginning.”

Ikkchit pointed an earthy finger at Nehirana. “And you, you fat ball of grease, you swore you would come to my aid if Paxillius were attacked. That was the agreement. Where are your Stormcallers?”

Nehriana spun his hand, creating a fresh flagon of wine. “As I recall, you did nothing when I was attacked by Celina.”

“Is that what this is about? That was over five hundred years ago.”

He swirled the beverage around and savored the bouquet. “The wine of revenge becomes sweeter the longer it is given to age first.”

Enraged, Ikkchit grew thorny protrusions of black glass all over her body. “You wretch. You lulled me into a false sense of security. You made me believe I could trust you.”

Nehirana laughed. “Yes, I did.”

A few of the other gods laughed.

Ikkchit looked around in disbelief. “You knew?”

“Of course we knew,” Jabint hissed, his breath freezing into ice crystals in the tortured air. “It’s been obvious for centuries.”

“I swear, I will have my revenge on all of you.”

Nehirana chuckled. “With what? Your lands will belong to Poe soon.”

“If your bugs means so much to you, why not take physical form and defend them yourself?”

“And end up like Milia?”

Quetah’s fiery hair burned blue. “Oh, how pathetic, to lose to a child.”

“Enough of this bickering. Your idle posturing bores me,” Odesi complained as he hovered in meditation.

Celina held up her mighty glowing fist. “Yes, addressing old wounds is not why we are here. We are here because the Kabal has betrayed us.”

Maltua, god of the Forge, slammed his mighty hammer, splitting a deep canyon into the land. “No, Valpurgiess betrayed us,” he bellowed. “The Kabal simply does his bidding.”

The god Vestum punched his fist into his palm, a ripple of color moving through his body as if it were liquid. “He swore to me that if I did not interfere in the invasion of the leaf-witches, my territory would be spared from the seas.”

Awhano the All-Seeing opened the third eye in the center of his forehead. “He made the same oath to all of us. And we were so eager to find a quick and easy solution to this problem, that we took it without question.”

Zelica the Banished stood up, her long, pierced ears dangling down her back. “Did we really think he would honor his word to us? After what we did to him?”

“Perhaps we could reason with the Kabal,” Demeres of the Harvest suggested, holding aloft her glowing sickle. “We did imbue mortals with a small measure of intellect, after all.”

The goddess Semas crackled angrily, her body a swirling feminine mass of golden lightning. “We should not have to reason with them. We speak and they obey; that is the order of things.”

Boiling bubbles of color moved up through Vestum’s form. “Next time, I shall not give them free will. That was a mistake.”

“Without free will their prayers mean nothing,” Awhano argued. “Without real prayers, we cannot sustain our presence in this world.”

“Your words disgust me,” Semas flashed, sparks coming out of her mouth. “They need us, we do not need them.”

“But we do, unless we wish to return in shame to the spirit world,” Zelica argued.

“We’ve been over this before. We are wasting time,” Nehirana complained.

The god Rendas sat down, his long beard coiling around him. “Perhaps we really should just give up on this world. Start over again.”

Odansire the Mighty roared. “You clock-eating fool. We can’t start again without the light of creation. We need it to make life. Without it we can never make more mortals to serve us.”

The god Kohta folded his arms and nodded, his glowing form growing transparent, as if he were made of glass. “It pains me to say it, but the Bear-Lord is right. We lose the light of creation, we lose everything.”

“But, what can we do?” Kirdishina whispered, his shadowy form slithering about in the air. “Valpurgeiss wields the power of the void now. He takes the souls of our departed and uses the energy against us.”

“Even our might is nothing against the void,” Rendas admitted.

“Curse our father and his wretched changelings,” Odansire screamed. “We should have finished them off when we had the chance.”

“We tried to,” Kohta recalled. “We hunted Father’s changelings down to the point of extinction. Now there are only three.”

“Three shouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

“And yet here we are.”

“You are all placing blame in the wrong place,” Zelica insisted.

The gods turned to her as she stood there, defiantly.

“This isn’t Father’s fault,” she said boldly. “This is our fault. We betrayed Father. We broke him and tore the light of creation from his breast. We stole all the light from him until only darkness remained. Valpurgeiss is a dark and broken god because we made him thus.”

She looked down sadly. “This is justice. We deserve this.”

Quetah stepped forward, the ground sizzling at his fiery skin. “You should choose your words more carefully, Gypsy-Lord.”

“Or what? I will suffer the same fate as Milia’s husband Veritus?”

All the gods grew quiet.

Zelica stood tall. “Yes, I know the truth now. It’s been a thousand years; you don’t think I would have found out eventually?”

Quetah snorted, fire jetting out of his nostrils. “Oh, be quiet Zelica. Go tend to your caravans.”

But she didn’t back down, in fact, she pressed harder. “When Valpurgeiss returned, we faced him openly, and he defeated us. All of us at once, and we lost. He took Ishi and crippled him, imprisoned the god within his own mountain, and enslaved his people. Now he and his people do Father’s bidding. There was nothing we could do to stop him from doing the same to all of us. And so I suggested we give back the light of creation willingly. We would not be able to create more people, but at least we could keep the ones we had, and their posterity, but that wasn’t good enough for you, was it?”

“Of course not! I am Quetah, God of Fire!, I would never accept only a portion of my ambitions.”

Zelica gritted her teeth, her face pinched. “So you banished me, and when I pressed the matter you destroyed my island to silence me. But I wasn’t the only one who thought that way, was I? Arian, Lord of the Ocean, he agreed with me, and when he started persuading the others as well you decided he had to be made an example of. So you betrayed him. When Milia and Veritus stood up for him, you betrayed them as well. You destroyed the water tribe and imprisoned both Arian and Veritus. You left Milia in misery to slowly fade away over the centuries because she had the gall to question your wisdom, and you left me without lands for my children, forced to forever wander as vagabonds.”