The sickest part was the sincerity in his voice. He believed he’d done something marvelous to her. Given her a gift. That she should be happy to accept what he’d done to her. He’d done it out of love. Because he cared for her. A sick, twisted, perverted love. It nauseated her stomach because a part of her wanted to forgive him. The part of her that cared for him. Loved him. It shone with brilliant Green. She refused to accept it.
She would not forgive what he’d done. Even if he apologized with sincerity, she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He made her body an enemy. Something she couldn’t trust any longer.
She couldn’t let herself weaken around him. If she became vulnerable near him, what was to stop him from doing the same again?
She stared ahead at the woodcutter’s path moving through the crimson woods. Bran rode at the lead, his head snapping around in awe. Dajouth wasn’t much better. He’d found a red-stained wildflower, some sort of daisy which had lost its usual yellow. He had it tucked behind his ear like a youth out courting.
“Didn’t think there were enough rubies in the world to do that,” Fingers muttered. “The lost city is truly beneath us?”
“Truly,” said Dualayn. “The rise and fall of the land around us are probably the remains of buildings covered up by detritus. The eons can bury cities, turn streets into catacombs. This city was badly damaged by the Shattering and what I can only translate as darklings, but they sound more diverse than our mythology suggests. Darklings of Water. Darklings of Fire. Darklings of the Night and of the Earth. Like that. Perhaps they do not even refer to darklings, but it is the best word for it I can decide upon. Something evil. Dangerous. Interlopers.”
“The enemies of the devas,” said Avena. Devas were the heavenly beings who served Elohm and fought against the darklings. They were led by Reylis, the Archon-Supreme of the Devas. Avena suspected the White Lady was the Archon-Supreme. Raya was so similar to Reylis. She had white hair and exuded a presence of Honesty. Yet she worked with that dark sorcerer, Dje’awsa, and had hired Grey’s crime syndicate.
Avena absently rubbed at her forehead. It tingled for a moment, perhaps in memory of the kiss Raya had planted there at their last meeting the morning after Ust’s attack. Thinking of Raya led her mind to those dreams of being a white-haired woman. Of having a lover and witnessing some cataclysmic event.
Was it really the Shattering? Did I dream the moment the Black invaded our world and broke reality? Were you there, Raya?
She’d been meaning to talk to Ōbhin about it but hadn’t found the right time to. She wanted to be alone with him, and though she’d spent one night in his bed, that had been out of fear of her body failing. She yearned to share her Red with him, but marriage was also important. A swearing of oaths, a promise. It was special.
The intimacy men and women shared was something that she didn’t think should be so easily traded away else it would lose its value.
Should I give him my promise? She’d given her Red to Chames on that wonderful afternoon, her blood full of the heady strawberry currant. If she slipped into Ōbhin’s room again, when she wasn’t afraid of her body, she knew where it would lead.
Was she ready to commit to Ōbhin? Was he ready to commit to her?
She glanced at him. He still wore the black gloves, but she knew he was striving towards polished light. She told herself, once my mind is repaired, we can talk of promises and futures and dreams.
“See, there it is,” Dualayn said. “That’s the largest gem I’ve ever encountered. The ancients could create gems, Fingers. That is why they had so many rubies here. In fact, this might be the place where they manufactured that particular gem. Something about a, ‘Harmonic confluence with the Realm of Absolute Flame,’ which is my best translation.”
“Wait,” Bran said and heeled his horse ahead. He craned his neck. “Is that a solid ruby?”
“It is,” Dualayn said.
Avena peered through gaps in the crimson foliage to glimpse the crystal pillar. It thrust at an angle out of the earth in the clearing where they’d excavated into Koilon. The ruby pillar had always intrigued her. It seemed impossible. Too large to be real, and yet it was. Ten cubits in length and who knew how much more was buried.
“Though it is crooked now,” said Dualayn, “it once thrust erect and upright. Called the Ruby Lodestone, perhaps. Or the Ruby Guidestone may be a better translation of Old Tonal. Tricky word to translate. They used the root for magnetism in the word for it, but I do not think that is what it meant. It was supposed to provide guidance through the Harmonics of Reality.”
“What are the Harmonics?” Avena asked, staring at the pillar, a tingle of awe rippling through her at seeing the impossible artifact again.
“The immaterial through which the Eight Primary Tones vibrate, child. As well as your thoughts. It also has something to do with the Warding holding back the darklings.”
Avena nodded and then realized she was slipping into her old behavior. She piled sandbags around her soul to keep the floodwaters of familiarity from weakening her anger. She would not forgive this man and accept his violation no matter how much the Green in her heart begged.
The trees broke around them and the clearing emerged, their old campsite appearing. The mound of dirt from their earlier excavation now had tufts of red grass growing across it. There
