“So this not being able to see your own path . . . that has happened to you before?”
She rested her chin on her hands. The gesture made her look small and impossibly young. When she spoke, her voice was softer. “It didn’t end well. Someone always loses.”
So she kept herself apart from others, didn’t want to get involved. As unnerving as it was, Sandra was starting to make sense and I was beginning to see her in a more complex light. “Well I don’t plan on losing. Neither should you. The only ones losing this time are the Circe. I believe we make our own fate. No offense.”
She looked amused. “None taken.”
We stayed like that for a while, the sound of the water creating a sense of peace—false though it was. Even so, I breathed it in and savored it. When I went to stand, Sandra stopped me before I could rise, her expression suddenly determined, as though she’d made a weighty decision.
“Sachâth is drawn to your power because it is reminiscent of divine power. You have the genes of the three noble races inside of you now, Charlie. Just like the First Ones.”
I sat back down, careful not to show my surprise; I didn’t want to give her any reason to change her mind.
“When the Creator decided it was time to withdraw from the worlds, some of the First Ones refused to go; they’d become attached, you see, to the worlds and to their offspring. To the Creator, their job was done; they had seeded the worlds. They found themselves for the first time in opposition. The rebellious First Ones fled and Sachâth was designed specifically to hunt them down. It is drawn to their unique power—only theirs and none other.
“Some of the First Ones went into hiding, trying to stay one step ahead of this creature. Some interred themselves into tombs of agate to mask their power. Sachâth awakens when this power flares. It senses your power. But because you are not quite there yet, in terms of your evolution, it becomes confused; it doesn’t know what you are. It is only supposed to kill First Ones. There are no judgment calls, no maybes. And when it gets close enough to strike at you, it knows you are not quite what you should be and therefore withdraws.”
Disbelief slid past my lips in a cold rush. That thing, that shadowy creature that vibrated with power so deep and ancient, was a killing machine made by the Creator. I could only imagine the strength and power it must have in order to kill the First Ones.
“That morning on Helios Tower,” I said, remembering when Ahkneri’s tomb had been taken by the Sons of Dawn to the top of the tower, and Llyran pulling down the darkness to open the lid. The power surge that had escaped had been astonishing.
“Yes. For the first time in many thousands of years, Sachâth woke. But when it arrived at the source, the battle was over, the lid was back on, and the Druid King had hidden the sarcophagus in the lake. There was nothing to be found. But the creature is a hunter. It scoured the city, looking. And then you used your power in my club and it felt it. I suspect had her tomb not been opened, your power wouldn’t have been strong enough to call to it as it slept. But it was already in the city.”
I rubbed both hands down my face. “God.” I laughed through my fingers in defeat. “My timing really sucks.”
Every time Sachâth had approached me, I’d felt its confusion, felt its curiosity and hesitation. And that was a sobering thought. I’d been dodging a fucking divine assassin, and it was just a matter of time before it finally recognized me and went to work doing what it was created to do.
“Well, at least for now, I can still use my power if I need to. It’ll show up, but it won’t kill me.”
“Yet.”
“Thanks for adding that,” I said with a wry smile.
“No problem.”
“How many people would know about Sachâth? Even to most Elysians and Charbydons, the First Ones are merely legend.”
“A few. Sachâth is even more obscure than the First Ones. As is, not much exists in the prehistorical artifacts and writings, and what does exist is interpreted as mythology. But, as you know, there are those who search for the truth and those who inadvertently discover it. And there are those who still exist from the time of the First Ones.” She laughed at my stunned look. “If your Ahkneri still exists and this creature, then the idea is not so impossible, is it?”
“No, I guess not. It’s just . . .”
“A lot to digest. I know.” As I went to stand up, Sandra stopped me again. “I’d advise against tiptoeing through the palace at night. Going in and out, or taking a stroll before bed is one thing, but sneaking around in the middle of the night is another. We’re in a good position. The royal family trusts me. The Circe have no reason to suspect us. I know you want to find your partner, but to do that we must find their inner sanctum and it’s not in the palace.”
“I have to try. I came here to try. I can’t just do nothing.”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do. Nothing.” Alessandra turned on the lounge and placed her feet on the ground. “We’ve been invited to a banquet tomorrow with the royal family. The Circe will be there. They will ask me to consult the Fates. I’ll say I’ll need a private sanctuary, a holy place, close to the gods, close to the things important to the Circe. We won’t have to search for their inner sanctum. They’re going to invite us in.” She let that simmer in the air for a moment. “As long as you don’t go snooping around and screw it up.”
I woke just before dawn, my right arm aching and hot. My room was open to the balcony and the thin linen curtains swayed in a languid dance. The air was cool and clean, the ever present salty breeze and the sound of the sea playing like a soft lullaby. It felt as though I’d woken from one dream only to find myself in another, in another world, heaven, Elysia, home of the gods . . .
But, as much as I wished it otherwise, this wasn’t a dream.
As my vision adjusted, the mural on the high ceiling began to take shape—brightly colored depictions of fish, dolphins, flowers, reeds, waves, griffins . . .
I’d dreamt of Ahkneri again, of some faraway land, of speeding over valleys, plains, and mountains, across the same vast desert and to the colossal temple rising up from the sand and the glittering river beyond.
I knew the dialogue that followed by heart, felt her cries and her heartbreak as if they were my own. As if it was me kneeling on that floor, knowing I was pleading in vain and yet trying anyway.
As I lay there gazing vacantly up at the ceiling, I understood now—thanks to Alessandra—what the recurring dream meant, and with no small amount of astonishment, I realized I’d heard the Creator’s voice answering Ahkneri’s plea.
She’d wanted to remain on Earth; she wasn’t ready to leave, to fade from physical existence. Rebelling was her only option, and she’d felt betrayed by the Creator. She wasn’t a slave, wasn’t a
And they’d been hunted by Sachâth.
It was a sad irony for the First Ones like Ahkneri who had been forced to entomb themselves. Being alone, asleep, gone from the world they so desperately wanted to be a part of was the very thing they’d tried to avoid.
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My arm hurt so much; a deep ache that burned from my fingertips to my shoulder. Slowly, I worked the arm, opening and closing my fingers, rolling my shoulder, using my other hand to knead my bicep. As I did, I stared out into the predawn sky, watching it grow lighter.
I missed my kid.
I wasn’t sure what kind of time difference existed in Fiallan compared to Atlanta, but it didn’t stop me from picturing Emma asleep, skinny arms thrown wide, mouth parted . . . My chest tightened with the need to hold her, my daughter.
“Ugh. Get it together, Charlie.”
With a heavy sigh, I forced those thoughts away, knowing how easy it’d be to make myself homesick. I had a job to do, had to stay focused on finding Hank. I stood and headed for the bath chamber, deciding to slip into the bath, shake the depression, and, hopefully, ease the ache in my arm.
I showered first and then stepped into the hot saltwater pool, the steam parting for me as I went. The sirens’
