A shadow in the ember

Chapter 35

We moved to the chamber behind the thrones. It was a war room of sorts, numerous swords and daggers lining the walls. A long oval table was situated in the center, the wood covered in nicks and grooves, giving the impression that daggers had been slammed into the surface on more than one occasion. Probably by one of the gods sitting there at this moment. Ector had returned by the time we entered the chamber, bringing with him Bele, who was trying but failing not to be obvious about openly staring at me.

Rhain and Saion, along with Rhahar, weren’t doing much better. All of them stared at me. Even Nektas, who stood in the corner. He hadn’t come straight to the chamber. When he joined us, I saw why. Something nearly as much of a shock as learning that Ash’s father had been the Primal of Life.

Cradled to Nektas’s chest was a dark-haired girl, wearing a loose nightshirt and wrapped in a blanket. It was Jadis, who…who very much looked like a small, mortal child no older than five. One tiny, bare foot poked out from the blanket.

“Blanket,” Nektas said, walking past me while carrying her. “She wanted her blanket.”

All I could do was stare and wonder if that was why she had been pulling the edges of my gown against her face earlier.

When she looked like a draken.

Reaver remained in his draken form, alert and resting beside Nektas.

Aios placed a glass of whiskey in front of me that I didn’t touch. Slowly, I looked over at Ash. The shadows had receded from his skin, but he watched me with the same intensity as he had in the chamber, and since he’d returned from checking in on Gemma. She had been looked over by the Healer who’d arrived at some point when we were in the chamber. I had no idea what Ash had told him, to keep how severely Gemma had been injured hidden.

Drawing in a too-short breath, I looked over at Ash. My stomach was still twisting itself into knots. “So…Kolis is your uncle?” My voice sounded so very far away.

He nodded. “They were twins. Identical. One fated to represent life and the other death.  My father, Eythos, the Primal of Life, and my uncle Kolis, the Primal of Death. They ruled together for eons as they were meant to.”

A wave of goosebumps rippled over my skin as my arms fell to my sides. “What happened?”

“My uncle fell in love.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that. “I think there must be more to the story.”

“There is always more to the story,” Aios said, sitting beside Bele.

“It all started a very long time ago. Hundreds of years in the past, if not close to a thousand. Long before Lasania was even a kingdom.” Ash sat in the chair beside me, at the head of the table. “I don’t know if the relationship between my father and his brother was always strained or if there had been peace between them at one time. But there had always been this competitive side to them. To both of them. My father wasn’t wholly i

Nektas nodded. “He was a fair King, kind and generous, and curious by nature. It was him who gave the dragon a mortal form.”

Wide-eyed, I turned to Ash, and my heart stopped.

There was a small, distant smile on the Primal’s face. A beautiful and sad one. “He was fascinated with all life, especially the mortals. Even when he became the Primal of Death, he was in awe of everything they could accomplish in what, to Iliseeum, was an incredibly short period of time. He often interacted with them, as did many of the Primals back then. But Kolis, he was…respected and feared as the Primal of Death instead of welcomed as a necessary step in life—a doorway to the next stage.”

Rhahar’s brows pinched. “I always wondered if mortals wouldn’t be so afraid of death if they viewed it differently—as not an end but a new begi

Maybe, I thought, swallowing. But death was the great unknown. No one knew how they would be judged or what truly awaited them. It was hard not to be afraid of that.”

“When Kolis entered the mortal realm, those who saw him cowered and refused to look him in the eyes while mortals rushed to greet his twin. I imagined that got to him,” Ash said, the faint smile turning into a wry grin, and I imagined that had to get to him. “On one of those trips into the mortal realm, Kolis saw a young mortal woman gathering flowers for her sister’s wedding or something along those lines.”

“Wait. Was her name Sotoria?” My thoughts spun. “The one that fell from what is now the Cliffs of Sorrow?”

“That would be her,” Bele confirmed, and I was stu

 I shook my head. “No one really knew if the legend of Sotoria was even real.”

“It is.” Bele smiled faintly. “Kolis watched her, and supposedly fell in love right then and there.”

I blinked once and then twice, glancing back at Ash as I recalled what Sir Holland had told me about Sotoria. He’d said that a god had frightened her. Could that part of the legend have gotten lost over the years?

“Either way, he was absolutely besotted with her,” Ash said. “So much so that he stepped out from the shadows of the trees to speak to her. Back then, mortals knew what the Primal of Death looked like. His features were captured in paintings and sculptures. Sotoria knew who he was when he approached her.”

Oh, gods… “I know what happened. He scared her, and she ran, falling to her death.”

Saion raised dark brows. “Romantic, huh?”

I shuddered. “He brought her back, didn’t he?”

“He did.” Ash tilted his head. “How did you know?”

“It’s a part of the legend—not a well-known part, and no one knew it was Kolis—but I…I hoped that part wasn’t true.”

“It is.” Ash scratched at his jaw as he straightened. “Kolis was distraught and somehow heartbroken. He called for his brother, summoning Eythos into the mortal realm. He begged for Eythos to give Sotoria life, an act that Eythos could do—and had done in the past—but my father had rules that governed when he granted life,” he explained, and I shifted on the chair, thinking of the rules I’d made that I hadn’t followed. “One of them was that he would not take a soul from the Vale. You see, the tradition of burning the body to release the soul is a mortal one, an act more for the benefit of those left behind than those who have passed. The soul immediately leaves the body upon death.”

“I didn’t know that,” I whispered.

“You wouldn’t.” He sighed. “For most mortals, those who don’t refuse to leave the mortal realm like those in the Dark Elms, pass through the Pillars of Asphodel rather quickly. A lot linger for a little bit for one reason or another. Although Sotoria had died far too young and unexpectedly, she accepted her death. Her soul arrived in the Shadowlands, passed through the Pillars, and entered the Vale within minutes of her death. She did not linger.”

I drew in a shaky breath. Had Marisol lingered? Gemma? I sank a little into the chair. “So…the soul isn’t trapped at all? They don’t have to wait?”

“Not most of them,” he said, and I remembered the souls he’d said had required his judgement. “My father would not take a soul from the Vale. It was wrong. Forbidden by both him and Kolis. Eythos tried to remind his brother that he’d agreed never to do something like that. When that failed, my father reminded him that it wasn’t fair to grant life and then refuse it to another of equal worth. But I suppose that was one of my father’s flaws. He believed he could decide when a person was worthy. And maybe as the Primal of Life, he could. Maybe there was some sort of i

My heart turned over heavily. “That is why I never used my gift on a mortal until the first time.” It was hard to continue, feeling his gaze on me—feeling all their stares. “I didn’t want that kind of…power, the ability to make that choice. And I always felt that once I did, the knowledge that I could become that power any time I was presented with the choice to do it or not… Well, I don’t know if it makes me weak or wrong, but I don’t want to have that kind of power.”

“That kind of power is a blessing, Sera. And it is a curse,” Nektas said, drawing my gaze to his. “Acknowledging that is not a weakness. It has to be a strength, because most would not realize how quickly that power can turn on them.”

 “My father didn’t,” Ash said, and my gaze flicked up to him. “If he had never used his gift of life on a mortal, then Kolis may not have expected him to do it. But he did, and my father’s refusal…it started all of this. Hundreds of years of pain and suffering for many i

A chill skated down my spine. “What happened?”

“Nothing at first. My father believed that Kolis had accepted his decision. Eythos met my mother during that time. She became his Consort and life was…normal. But in reality, a clock was counting down. Kolis spent the next several years—decades—attempting to bring Sotoria back. He couldn’t visit her, not without risking the destruction of her soul.”

“But he found a way?”

“He did, in a way.” Ash exhaled heavily.

“After all his years of searching, he realized that there was only one way,” Rhain said, staring at the table. “Only the Primal of Life could give Sotoria back her life. So, he found a way to become that.”

“How?” I breathed.

“I don’t know,” Ash admitted with a shake of his head. “None of us do. Only Kolis and my father know, and one will never speak of it, and the other is no longer here to tell.”

“Kolis was successful,” Ector said. “He managed to switch places with his twin, somehow exchanging destinies with him. Kolis became the Primal of Life, and Eythos became the Primal of Death.”

“The act was…catastrophic.” Nektas shifted Jadis slightly. “Killing hundreds of gods that served both Eythos and Kolis, and weakening many Primals—and even killing a few—forcing the next in line to rise from godhood into Primal power. Many of my brethren were also killed.” Nektas’s features turned harder as he dropped a quick kiss atop Jadis’s head. “The mortal realm felt it in the form of earthquakes and tsunamis. Many areas were leveled. Large portions of land broke off, some forming islands while other cities sank into the oceans and seas. It was chaotic for quite some time, but Eythos knew immediately why his brother had done it. He’d warned Kolis not to bring Sotoria back. That she was at peace, in the next stage of her life. That it had been too long, and if he were to do what he pla