"Most of his irritating chatter revolved around gossip of the Solkaskin aristocracy, but his incessant recollections of his region’s panicking priests proved mildly stimulating. There was apparently a great commotion deep within their burial grottos recently, which prompted an immediate investigation from their priests and most accomplished witches and warlocks. The emissary said that very little was gleaned from their efforts, except that their Voidwarden and Gracewarden were missing, with their respective pools drained.
"Only when the emissary mentioned concern over the possible causes or implications did his demeanor shift from frivolous to bleak. His people are at a loss as to why this happened, who or what caused it, where their Gracewarden and Voidwarden have gone, and whether this event has somehow been caused by or affected their relationship with the Gift Gods."
Leona gently closed the book and placed it back in its spot before reaching for another.
“The only other reference I have to these events,” Leona mentioned as she flipped pages, “is from another journal entry of Ayluven’s—just over a year after the previous one.”
Leona began to read.
"There have been some unsettling revelations about the mystery surrounding Gracewardens and Voidwardens disappearing throughout the world. While the possible involvement of the Gift Gods remains uncertain, there seems to be at least one identity being attributed to these disappearances—that of our own Voidwarden.
"The appearance of a Gracewarden or Voidwarden outside their respective burial chambers—indeed, the appearance of Acorilan’s Wardens outside of our own mountains—has, as far as recent memory can dictate, never been observed. Nevertheless, there are increasing reports of sightings of something that resembles our Voidwarden out amongst distant roads, forests, and cities of the world. What this means—and what it may have to do with the disappearance of the other Wardens—remains unclear. Acorilan’s portion of the burden to uncover any remaining mystery, however, will have to pass on to my daughter, for my time to fulfil my part in my grandmother’s pact approaches."
Jularra had to catch her breath before responding.
“How could she—and everyone else—just… just sit there while our Voidwarden did that?”
As Jularra fumed, Leona flipped towards the end of book. After landing on a particular page, she handed the book to Jularra.
“There,” she directed. “Wait till you read what’s next.”
Seventeen
Mother died five nights ago. I haven’t written since before we went into the mountain, and have turned away every audience and attendant. I felt like, and still feel like, ripping the throat out of anything that wants to bother me. I had to watch that sick thing murder her. There cannot be a more obscene and evil thing than what my mother and I went through. And I swear, I will not let this continue. One way or another, I will find out how to kill that Voidwarden. I will not die like my sweet mother had to.
As I stood in that grotesque pool, I cursed at the Voidwarden. I cursed at it and vowed my revenge. I didn’t care that it knew my thoughts or intentions. I would not be afraid of it. I told it that between it and me, it would be the next thing to die. It laughed at me. The sick thing laughed at me! Then it WISHED ME LUCK.
When it finished laughing, it turned and shot energy at a far wall. A portion of the rock wall blew out and crumbled away, revealing the front of a tomb of some kind, and MOTHER’S SPIRIT WALKED OUT OF IT! She walked out and joined the Voidwarden by his side at the pool. I screamed and cried for mother until I only squeaked hints of nothingness. She never looked at me. Her head hung low. Her ghost’s eyes never looked up.
The Voidwarden said that with my mother’s help it would eventually be able to escape. It said it would figure out how to beat our Gracewarden, destroy the other Wardens, and be free. I don’t know what that means, but I do know that magic has most assuredly brought this upon my mother, myself, and our recent predecessors. I also know that if I’m born to die anyway, I will live until then, if only to kill the Voidwarden. This curse ends with me.
Jularra buried her face in her hands and stumbled towards the garden in shame. But the sound of her own crying angered her enough to stifle her grief. She wiped her eyes and turned back to Leona and the others.
“Only four queens into that fucking pact,” Jularra rasped, “and they already knew they were lost! Even then, they knew there was no hope!”
Jularra’s voice broke as she walked back towards the group. She wielded the book like an instrument of judgment, flailing it and whipping it around in the air. She clenched her other fist in front of her and pulled downwards.
The fires in the braziers, suspended from columns around the edge of the indoor garden, bellowed and roared. The blazes grew taller and wider. Before Leona could stop her, the fires swelled to many times their original size. The deep bowls holding them began to glow, first red, then yellow, then white, and finally tinges of blue, before the heat traveled up the braziers to the chains that suspended them. Within seconds, Jularra’s heat weakened the chains and caused the ferocious tempests of fire to crash to the cobblestone floor.
As the mutated fires fell about Jularra, a series of fiery rings scorched up around her. This was new, though her fury wouldn’t allow her to register it immediately.
She walked towards the others, her fist still clenched. Leona’s eyes widened.
“Jularra! Stop!”
Leona reached for her own magic, but Jularra whipped her arm out, throwing
