bookpower Book 5: Chapter 26: Seer
Book 5: Chapter 26: Seer
Book 5: Chapter 26: Seer
Heretical Fishing
Within Phostheia’s throne room, high above the Kingdom of Light, the sun beamed down through a mosaic glass roof, casting a dazzling rainbow of colors across the vast sea of marble below. Floors, walls, ornate pillars. Even the furniture, bar one seat, was made of the white stone, boasting of the capital’s wealth and the ingenuity of the mages who’d mined and transported so much of the exotic material.
The god-queen could see it all from where she sat, wearing the same rigid posture and indifferent gaze of countless leaders before her. It’d been beaten into her—sometimes literally, if her old tutor’s thin switch counted—since she was a girl. She used to loathe those lessons.
The throne at her back was much the same. She’d hated it too. The coldness of its touch. Its complete lack of padding. Even the way it glinted, reflecting the sun into her eyes. Which daft fool, she had often wondered, thought a throne of solid gold was a good idea?
She now knew better. As with her lessons from childhood, she understood the importance of such things. She gazed down at her seat, triggering its description.
Golden Throne of the Divine
[Authorization error: protected asset in lower realm]
So long had it existed in Phostheia that its creator was unknown, any record of them or the item’s origin lost to time.
“Time... So fickle. So demanding.” Her eyes snapped up, focusing on one of the five figures of the Prime Cadre before her. “Tell me, Evan, how go the boats?”
Her head mage bowed at the waist. “They are progressing as well as can be expected, God-Empress.”
“No further damage has been discovered?”
“Not beyond those already listed in the ledgers, God-Empress. The prime vessel Theoris’s hull, and the mast of her sister galleon, Elegos, are both being restored by the Twenty—” Evan cleared his throat. “By the Forty Hands, Your Holiness,” he corrected. “The same is happening with the rear vessels of the fleet, whose decks are in various stages of decay.”
There was something he wasn’t saying. It shone through his concealment, sure as the sun’s rays slipped through the colored glass high above. “Hesitance is unbecoming, Evan—especially on a mage of the Prime Cadre.”
He dropped to the floor and pressed his forehead to the marble in one swift movement. Well, relatively swift—to her senses, it was as if he trudged through mud. “Forgive me, God-Empress! I wished not to bother you with trifles. I am but a bug compared to your mighty flame.”
No, you’re not, came Aletheia’s quiet complaint in the back of her mind. You’re my trusted advisor. My voice of reason. My friend. That word—friend—made an image of Eustace resurface. The blank look the Seer had given when hiding her emotions resonated with the quiet voice, giving it power.
The God-Empress snatched those sentiments and crushed them in her fist. “Tell me, Evan.”
“At once! The restoration efforts have been going slightly slower than expected...”
She didn’t realize she was shining with fury until Evan trailed off and stole a glance, his eyes reflecting her brilliance. Again, the quiet voice protested. This time, the god-empress let her anger fade, hoping acquiescence would shut the voice up.
Evan continued. “The fleet appeared to have lingered on the ocean before being moved to the dry docks. Ancient sea-life clings to the hulls, and despite their lifelessness, these hardened shells defy the Forty Hands’ holy chi. It should not delay the overall timeline, though!” he added in a rush. “Which is the only reason I didn’t tell you, God-Empress! We called for the citizens’ help in physically removing them, and they rushed to assist! Even now they form lines in the industrial quarter, vying for a chance to help Your Holiness!”
“They understand your greatness, God-Empress!” yelled Grace, prostrate on the marble.
“Just so! Even those lacking experience! If anything, we are projected to finish slightly ahead of time!”
Aletheia Veritus, God-Empress of the Kingdom of Light, sat back on her throne, anger abated. “Good. Without illumination, one might accidentally stride into shadow. Tell me such things in the future. And that goes for all of you.” Please, added the quiet voice, thinking what it couldn’t say aloud. The god-empress forced it down.
“Yes, God-Empress!” chorused the mages, as did the two-dozen honor-guards fanning around the throne room, their golden armor glittering in the rainbow light.
Just like so many rulers before her, she showed not a hint of approval at their assent. Their obeyance was not to be rewarded. It was expected. She was the divine bridge, and they—
Something tugged at her soul, at the holy brand marking her as heaven’s chosen. Eyes wide, she moved. White marble, gray hallways, and myriad stairs passed by in an instant, the world only ceasing its endless blur when she gazed down at a screen moments later. The words she found there were a direct challenge to her dominion.
A new Maker has risen!
Hail God-King Fischer, Maker of Kallis!
Where her surroundings had sped by a moment ago, now it was time that flew, racing past as she internalized the messages and considered their implications. The old her, who’d been an empress in name only, would have trembled. In fact, the former version of herself was trembling, whimpering deep in the pits of her awareness, causing their left hand to shake. Lip curling, the God-Empress slammed a lid of iron overtop the pit, sealing those pathetic sounds in.
Evan came barreling into the room. The rest of the Prime Cadre followed a moment later. All five of them joined their ruler at a respectful distance, shock washing from their cores as they read the screen. Evan’s eyes, wide and panicked, flicked down toward her hand. “Are you well, God-Empress?”
Her skin creaked like leather, so hard did she clench her fist. “Why would I not be? I am divine.”
He took a step forward, expression softening. “Aletheia, you don’t—”
“Do not call me that!” Her radiant fury shone out once more, stronger than earlier, walls shaking, a spider-web of cracks spreading across the stones beneath her. She inhaled a steadying breath and drew back her ire. “Do not presume to refer to me by name. Was it not you who warned me about letting decorum slip?”
“As you say, Your Holiness.” All five of them were prostrate again. Evan pressed his face into the cracked stones. “Forgive me, God-Empress. I forget myself.”
It was well-meaning. She knew that. But it didn’t excuse his behavior.
“Do not make a habit of it. Now, rise. We must talk and alter our plans accordingly.”
They rushed to obey, all attention on her as they stood and awaited instructions. The look on Evan’s features gave her pause. It made no sense. Hadn’t she become who he’d always wanted her to be?
Why, then, does he seem so sad? asked the voice in the darkness, lifting the lid just enough for the question to escape.
A third blast of rage for the morning was the god-empress’s only answer. She slammed the opening closed and focused her anger upon it, melting the iron door’s edges until it was welded shut, nary a gap remaining for the old her to whine through.
Evan had looked up once more, and when the light faded, he was gazing directly at her. “I will not ask again, God-Empress, but are you well?”
She stared back impassively. “As before, head mage, how could I not be? I am the divine bridge between Kallis and the heavens. I am she whose arrival was foretold by the Holy Seers. My victory is inevitable.”
“As you say, God-Empress.”
“As you say, God-Empress!” the others echoed.
Within, Aletheia’s fists pounded on the seamless metal door. No one answered.
***
Eustice was just leaving her terrace when the third flash of incandescent anger came from the castle. The aged woman turned toward it, shielding her eyes with a hand as she stared up at the holy beams. Much like Eustace—or a fine wine—the grief caused by her former friend’s affliction had matured, alchemizing into something wonderful.
A quest. Though she had invented it herself, it was no less important to her than one assigned by the System.
Above, the god-empress’s fury faded. Eustace snorted. “And they call me dramatic.”
“They’re right, hag!”
“Kick rocks, Anius, you old toad!” Inwardly, she welcomed the duel. Outwardly, she leveled a withering glare at the bastard sitting on her favourite bench, the one that stayed shaded year-round. “Hurry up and die already!”
“And stink up the garden? You’d curse my poor soul before I made it to the afterlife.”
“That’s a good point. I don’t want to—terribly bothersome work, you see—but if you stank up the garden...” She crossed her arms and sniffed. “I’m leaving. Want anything from the markets on my way back?”
Anius cooled himself with his paper fan. “An anvil dropped from a great height, if it pleases? Right on top of my head.”
“That so?”
“Please. My hag of a neighbor snores something fierce. I’ve not slept well in days, and I crave the eternal release.”
“Doesn’t work for me, I’m afraid.”
“Oh?”
“You’d stink up the garden and I’d be forced to curse your soul. Swiftly, you understand—before you made it to the afterlife.”
“Hmmm. That does sound bothersome...”
They shared a grin, their enjoyment of each other’s company showing on their faces. Eustace looked away, feigning annoyance as she inspected the nails on one wrinkled hand. “Anything else I can get you from the market?”
“That same anvil, dropped from the same height, but on a different head?”
“On mine?”
“Ah, but it’s nice talking to another Seer. Nobody gets me like you do. Shame you’ll die soon.”
“Via anvil to the cranium?”
“Just so.”
Eustace flashed him a smile and marched out the gate. “See you shortly, Anus.”
“Not if an anvil sees you first, Eust-ass!” Anius called from her bench, grinning at his parting shot.
She wasn’t sure who’d won that joust, but then, did it really matter? They’d stopped tallying the score decades ago. Or was it centuries now? Their barbed insults had long since reverted to those of schoolyard children. Like a tiles player going over the notes of past games, Eustace mentally traced all possible branches of the conversation as she went, seeking the perfect childish retort for next time.
Another part of her mind dared to hope that Anius would join her cause, but his actions thus far had suggested otherwise. She sighed. The time would come to invite him. Until then, his allegiance wasn’t worth consider—
A sharp gasp interrupted her thoughts.
“Seer!” the girl hissed.
“Seer?” asked another.
“Where?”
“Seer!” droned the flock, its sheep stealing what glances they dared as Eustace flowed down the street, her long robe and modest steps presenting a picture of piety.
Along the main avenue, around the market—no need to brave that cesspit of humanity twice in one day—Eustace strode. She ducked into a lane and donned a beggar’s blanket, hunching her back for good measure as she exited the other side, now within the industrial district. Here could be found the laborers and their places of work, along with the usual vices that kept peasantry pliable and obedient the world over: drinking establishments, betting houses, and brothels.
Has our God-Empress’s ascension affected their business, I wonder?
She didn’t have to go down the red alley to know the answer; simply peering down its length was enough to see a pack of particularly repulsive men stumble from a public house and into the open arms of a gaggle of floozies.
She judged neither party. Well, except for the men’s visible lack of hygiene, which reaffirmed her long-running hypothesis that courtesans and their commoner ilk were the hardest workers of any kingdom. But the thought swiftly vanished. She, after all, was on a quest.
Deeper she went into the northern district. Soon the dry docks rose up, their size only truly appreciable from up close. A line of men, and even a few muscular women, stretched along its front, waiting to be admitted by a crisply mustachioed dockman.
Behind them stood what might be the largest damned doors ever built, and in the gap where they had been slid back, could be seen what were definitely the largest damned ships ever built. The Prime Vessel Theoris, and her sister galleon, Elegos. They’d struck her dumb when she first saw them, but that had been a lifetime ago. Multiple lives, really. She’d encountered them many times since then, these relics of ancient eras and forgotten wars, but never had their grandiosity truly faded.
She had expected to be stopped at the entrance, but the dockman spotted her from a mile away.
Sharp, this one.
“Hold there, beggar!” he called. “You’ve heard true. We’re recruiting all able bodies, but you need to be cleared by the healers first. I won’t have you spreading a pox around—”
Like a beautiful yet decrepit butterfly, she emerged from her cocoon, casting aside the rough-spun blanket.
“Seer Eustace!” The man dropped to the ground so fast she worried for the rigidity of his waxed moustache. “Holy Seer! Forgive me! My eyes were blind to your radiance!”
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She ducked her head to hide her disappointment. Perhaps not so sharp after all. “No need, no need, dockman. I come to inspect the ships and, if possible, impart good fortune for their future passage.” The rest of the line were kneeling now, radiating deference and piety to a one. She paused beside the man who may or may not still have a crisp moustache, patted him on the shoulder, and immediately regretted it when a shiver ran through him.
“Holy Seer Eustace, I am not worthy of your touch!” His hands met before him in prayer. “I will never forget this kindness! Would the Holy Seer like an escort to—”
“Absolutely not!” she snapped, then remembered herself. “Uh, I need quiet and solitude. Lest the flock’s wonderful thoughts affect my own.” By making me sick, she didn’t add.
He shot to his feet so fast that she almost reflexively kicked him, but his facial hair, now markedly floppier after all, distracted her just long enough to still her muscles. “Runners!” he called, re-twirling his semi-flaccid strands.
A squad of adolescents, who’d been doing a terrible job of keeping their spying a secret, dashed from behind one giant door.
“Alert the docks! If I hear of anyone bothering Holy Seer Eustace, they’ll be out on their ass—” He gasped at himself. “They will be fired, I mean! Apologies, Holy Seer! This humble worker... Holy Seer?”
Eustace was already inside, and she shook her head as she marched toward a ramp leading down into the giant pit. Sycophants and zealots, the lot of them. And those working the ship weren’t any better. Those damned children, with their spry legs and youthful exuberance, had rushed ahead. One of them was ten meters down, descending scaffolding like a rodent escaping a flood. She tore her gaze from the young woman. The workers being forewarned of her arrival hadn’t been planned, but perhaps it was to her quest’s advantage.
She peered into the eyes of every worker she passed. Or tried to, anyway. The bastards kept bowing and scraping, looking away. Each was assessed, and each was found wanting. Halfway down Theoris’s mighty hull, she had her first taste of hope. A man with impressive girth neither looked away nor bent an inch, staring directly at her as he scratched his belly button—on a quest of his own, in search of lint. He reeked of booze, and when he didn’t respond to her raised brow, she waved in front of his face.
He made a sound that was half drowning, half gargle, which took her longer than it should have to identify as a snore. The bastard was asleep, eyes open, body erect, finger scratching away.
“Damned impressive...” she said, and she meant it. What magnificent skill. But not the kind she was looking for. “The working girls certainly earn their money with this one...” She stepped past and grabbed the scaffolding for support, drew back her foot, then kicked him square in the ass.
He made a wonderful series of sounds as he fell, woke, and continued tumbling farther down the sloping ramp, his girth causing the structure to shake. He went farther than she’d expected. Thankfully, she didn’t have to save him—that would have ruined the whole point. A support beam brought the fleshy avalanche to an abrupt end, one final grunt capping off his acappella performance as the air was knocked from his lungs.
The deeper she went, the more workers she saw. These laborers were awake, which was welcome at first, but swiftly grated on her.
Too subservient by far.This is the problem with societies built upon the existence of gods. When one actually comes along, everyone soils their underclothes over it.
Her only consolation was the prize she sought. They were down here somewhere. She was sure of it. Never before had a vision been so clear.
With each incompatible soul she passed, however, doubt crept in. What if they weren’t here, after all? Had the vision shown her a different time, her treasure either long deceased or yet to be born? Or had it just been a regular dream, one which her grief had latched onto, a lifeline to pull her from the grips of despair?
She frowned as she stepped down onto the lower levels. The bottom of the ship’s great hull blocked out the sun from above. The unawakened workers relied on lanterns of divine chi to navigate the space, and as that golden light illuminated her unimpressed visage, their bowing and scraping got worse.
Not him. Not him.
...Definitely not him.
There wasn’t a solid pair of rocks between them. Her hopes flared upon seeing a look other than subjugation on one man, but then she noticed his quickening pulse. She had been a beautiful woman in her youth, all those centuries ago, so she knew that expression well. She could be his great-grandmother...
Disgusting. She would have kicked him over the side, but paused after gathering essence in her leg, wondering if he’d derive sick pleasure from that. Then she kicked him anyway, right between the legs, lifting him into the air, only for him to crash bonelessly to the floor, bereft of consciousness. Just as she’d thought. Nary a solid set of rocks to be found.
“Impure!” she accused in afterthought, realizing she probably shouldn’t have used such violence in public.
As she continued on, her displeasure was alleviated by the ashen faces of the men who rushed in to help her downed foe. Anything was better than their former meekness. Even those that didn’t go to his side seemed to feel some of his pain, their gazes lingering on the limp fellow who’d been kicked in his limp member.
Funny, that. She’d noticed long ago that no matter how self-serving the man, they could empathize with another being struck in the jewels. She had once suggested it be used as a method for teaching violent criminals compassion, but it had been called ‘cruel’ and ‘unusual’ by the previous Veritus girl. Perhaps she should broach it with Aletheia now that she—
Oh? What’s this?
A sense of joy washed over Eustace, coming from the abdomen of another. Someone else had enjoyed seeing the lecherous bastard struck down. She gazed over at him—only to find it wasn’t a him at all. Narrow shoulders, slim fingers hidden by cloth and wrapped around a chisel, and decidedly feminine features, no matter how much grime she had tried to hide them beneath.
“Was he the reason for your disguise?”
The woman jumped. And Eustace felt a pang of frustration, fully expecting deference to replace shock when the laborer realized who was before her. Instead, the worker’s pupils darted back and forth, thoughts clearly racing as she tugged her hood down.
“One of,” she grunted, then raised her chisel to the hull, set its tip against the shell of some ancient sea creature, and smacked it with a hammer. “I would appreciate you lowering your voice, Seer. If it pleases you, I mean.”
It didn’t please her, but the woman’s flippancy did. “Unnecessary, dear. See for yourself.”
Eustace’s loud tone made her freeze like a cornered rabbit. She dropped her tools and gazed at the Seer, her eyes... furious? Not a rabbit then. More a pup ready to nip, for all the good it would do her.
When the cloaked stranger noticed the bubble of golden light around them, she turned pensive. Almost curious. “This...”
“Protection, dear. Neither eyes nor ears can penetrate it.”
“Which means that people and objects can?”
Eustace gave her an appraising look. Clever girl. “You’ve discovered my limitations. It’s as you say, but I wouldn’t worry about that. Anyone stupid enough to enter will find that my body is similarly unimpede... oh, speak of the devil.” She lashed out, felt the ball of her foot collide with a hip, then felt the floor shake as the idiot crashed into the scaffolding beyond. “I imagine that should be adequate deterrence for the rest, don’t you?”
The woman nodded, but didn’t elaborate.
“My name is Eustace.”
“I know.”
She waited for her to continue, then laughed at the brazen disrespect when she didn’t. “Might I ask yours?”
The grimy woman pondered that for a moment. “Fern.”
“Why are you working down here, Fern?” She gestured at the sharp shells covering the section hull within the bubble. “Hardly a job I’d be signing up for...”
“The diligent men—” She spat that last word. “—who help clear the lower level have more chances of being chosen.”
“Being chosen...?”
“For the expedition. Anyone working up top gets one entrance per day, while anyone down here gets two, so long as they fill a bucket by nightfall.”
“A lottery, then?”
“So they say...” The healthy amount of scorn in Fern’s voice told of her faith—or lack thereof—in the integrity of such a system.
“How many spots have they offered?” Eustace asked, imagining the hundreds of people she saw working on just her way down. There had been dozens on the lower deck.
“Ten.”
“Ten...?” the seer repeated. That was only a quarter of a person per rear vessel. They must have been behind schedule, so the Prime Cadre—likely Evan—had hatched a scheme to increase productivity. And hidden it from the Veritus girl, no doubt. Eustace smiled as she imagined the head mage trying to navigate that conversation.
She peered down at Fern’s hands. Unlike those of the women she had seen in line, Fern’s weren’t accustomed to hard labor. What she had assumed to be camouflage were actually bandages. All this, for only a chance to join the voyage. A slim one, considering how many names would find their way onto the list before any were actually drawn.
Noticing the Seer’s attention on them, Fern tried to hide her hands.
Eustace shook her head. “Show me.”
Fern scowled, hesitated, then unlooped the linen wrapping her left wrist. She tensed her jaw as the bandage stuck to her palm, unable to hide her discomfort. What skin wasn’t blistered looked supple and soft, telling of work that involved oils rather than laboring with tools. Eustace’s respect for the girl grew. The hardest workers in any kingdom indeed. Each layer of cloth that came away revealed more wounds, unhealed and yet to callus.
“That’s enough. I can see the extent of your injuries.”
As she returned the wrappings, pain seemed to steel Fern’s temper. “Can I help you with anything else, Seer? The longer we talk, the less I can remove, and the more scrutiny I’ll be under when you leave.”
“Let’s make this swift then, shall we? I have two more questions. First, why didn’t my arrival scare you? You’re no fool—bowing and scraping like the rest would have gotten you further, no?”
“You might not remember, but we’ve met before. You came to my orphanage when I was little and, uh...”
“You’ll find my memory is terribly accurate, dear. I didn’t have to visit very many orphanages, thankfully. You were a resident of the Divine Guidance Institute?”
“I was.” I hint of a smile. “You showed us your true self, Seer. Unless this is the mask...?”
“Hmm. It’s possible I was a little too furious to keep up appearances at that time, considering my reason for visiting. How is that old bastard of a headmaster? Is he well?”
“Uhhhh... he’s very dead, Seer. You killed him. Kicked him through a wall and into the base of the old tower.”
“Ahhh!” She clapped her hands as if just remembering. “So I did. And he wasn’t revived?”
“They tried, Seer, but no.”
“Wonderful. Happy to hear he’s no longer plaguing the kingdom.”
Fern didn’t respond, but the look on her face confirmed that she, too, was glad of it.
“On to my second question, then—why do you want to join the expedition?”
Again, she did a good job of hiding it, only flashes of her true feelings showing on her features. But the terror screaming from her core was unmissable. “I wish to aid the god-empress in destroying the forces of evil.”
A lie, of course. “Truly? You took on this backbreaking task, despite never having done physical labor before, merely for a chance to sail into battle against a foreign power who, by our god-empress’s accounts, wields corrupting chi? You’ve not even experienced your first awakening, child. You would willingly brave annihilation?”
“Yes,” Fern growled, attempting to disguise her panic as righteous anger.
“Ahhh. That’s a shame. Yes, yes, no need to voice your confusion. I meant what I said. It’s a damned shame. See, I came down here to find someone like me.”
“Like—” Fern’s voice failed. She cleared her throat. “Like you, Seer?”
“Just so. A person of upstanding character who, like me, is bored with this pointless drudgery. Bridge this, divine that, holy champion—blah, blah, blah. You think you’re sick of it after what, twenty-five years of life? Imagine how I feel after centuries of waiting for this blasted ‘chosen one’ to arrive.”
Fern’s terror was no longer concealed, skin flushed white beneath the layers of grime, eyes darting toward where she thought the castle was—it was actually in the complete opposite direction, but Eustace supposed now wasn’t the time to point that out, amusing as it might be.
“Oh, stop moving your mouth like a fish, dear.”
Fern closed it with no small amount of reluctance.
“Divine shield, remember? Our words are our own. You knew I could sense your lie, right? I can’t know the exact truth, but based on your actions, I’m guessing you mean to run? To flee once we reach the foreign shores?”
Fern once more resembled an aquatic creature.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Eustace leaned in. So did Fern, forcibly sealing her lips again. Eustace gave her a sly smile. “I was planning the exact. Same. Thing.”
With that, the Seer dismissed her protective bubble, letting the weave of golden essence shine in all directions. As the divine was wont to do, it cleansed every impurity it touched, removing dirt, minor ailments, and even the rank odor of a few men who didn’t bathe nearly as much as they should.
Fern was in shock, a slew of emotions coming from her core. Fear. Terror. Hope. Before she could realize just how exposed she was, her face now free of the meticulously applied layers of concealing grime, Eustace released a pulse of chi, drawing all attention. Including that of the god-empress, whose awareness weighed heavy on the platform.
“Look upon my new apprentice! Gaze upon the fair maiden that has been working amongst you!” The men openly gawked, still reeling from the divine energy. “Fern has been hiding among you, donning a disguise and toiling harder than some of you lifelong laborers. ‘Why?’, I can see you wanting to ask.”
She made her brow twitch, her upper lip quiver.
“For the same reason you should all be doing it! For the glory of Phostheia! For the glory of the Kingdom of Light! For the glory of the God-Empress!” Eustace dropped her voice to a near whisper. “She, a young woman with nary a hint of divine power in her core, does all this so she might get chosen to join God-Empress Aletheia in her holy war against the void! Ah, yes, I see the question. It’s true—working on the lower platform only grants one additional entry in the lottery per day.”
The Seer grabbed Fern’s hand. She didn’t need to fake the look of apology as she unlooped the first length of bandage. Thankfully, the divine chi had cleansed the blood and purulent discharge from the ruptured blisters, making it come away easier than before. The sores still remained. They looked terribly painful.
“Gaze upon the fruits of her labor! The reward her sacrifice reaped! She knew not that I would appear and claim her as my follower, yet I can say with complete certainty that Fern would have continued striking shells from the prime vessel Theoris’s hull until her wounds festered and poisoned her blood!”
It was true, if a little—or extremely—misleading.The veracity of that carefully worded statement caught the god-empress’s attention. Just as planned. Eustace opened herself, letting her true feelings leak out between the gaps of her circulating chi. At the same time, she leaned on Fern’s shoulder for support.
“Citizens of Phostheia!” Eustace called, casting her voice across the capital.
A tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered her young friend and confidant, whose body was now inhabited by another deluded Veritus. Dismay flowed toward the castle. Only Fern knew its source, their contact letting her see Eustace’s thoughts.
“As you know,” she continued, addressing the city. “Of the Seers, only Anius and I remain. My dear colleague has remained steadfast in his beliefs, all these centuries. But I, Holy Seer Eustace, have strayed far from the sun’s divine light!”
She imagined all the future events that Aletheia’s sickness of the mind had stolen away. Feasts. Conversations. A wedding, Aletheia as the bride, Eustace walking her down the aisle. Regret streamed toward the god-empress, its cause concealed. Fern stiffened.
“Though I am one who helps guide the will of the heavens, I am imperfect. The weight of my task was too much. I lived longer than I ever hoped to, and with each generation that passed, a darkness spread through me...”
In her mind’s eye, she imagined the kind and curious and sweet face of Aletheia, then replaced it with the burning gaze of the god-empress, and her regret turned into a sense of deepest loss. A sob wracked her. She had to take a shuddering breath before continuing. Fern took one too.
“I lost my way. I lost my faith. Worst of all, I lost sight of my mission—to be a shining pillar of virtue that keeps the darkness at bay. In that, I have failed this city, this kingdom, and humanity. I have failed you all.”
Now for the coup de grâce...
Eustace imagined Aletheia again. She remembered all the wonderful memories they had made together. The young princess confiding in the Seer, admitting she didn’t believe in the church—not in the way it was presented. Eustace staring back, only to guffaw and freely admit that she didn’t either. Them sneaking up onto the castle’s roof at least once a week to watch the sunset, where they’d have what a young Aletheia had called ‘secret meetings’. The years passing by as the conversations took on a serious nature, shifting towards changing the kingdom for the better.
Almost too late, Eustace realized she had gotten lost in the memories. The intended joy and gratitude were there, but they were tinged with melancholy. She focused on the woman beside her. Tears streamed down Fern’s face, her eyes puffy and red. Eustace imagined a new future. One where they escaped, fled the corrupt mire the Kingdom of Light had become. What wonders, what adventures, would they find beyond its borders?
All that the god-empress felt was pure elation as Holy Seer Eustace lifted her face toward the heavens.
“Despite my many failings, I am glad to have lived long enough for the divine bridge to arrive. I am human, as are you. It is in our nature to step from the path of righteousness. But the god-empress? She isn’t of the divine—she is the divine. She is the bridge who will connect this fallen realm with the heavens. For that, I rejoice, as should we all.”
Eustace smiled at her apprentice, who was still too distraught to speak. An orb of purest gold flashed across both Fern’s hands. Aletheia. It was the god-empress’s chi. Even to Eustace’s enhanced awareness, it was astoundingly quick. Just like that, the open sores disappeared, healed as if they’d never been, and Aletheia withdrew.
The Seer openly sent her satisfaction and gratitude up toward the castle, not needing to obscure the emotions. Her mummer’s farce had worked even better than expected.
Fern stared dumbly at her hands, at Eustace, then at her hands once more.
“Come, apprentice. We have much to do. And all of you!” She cast a withering glare over the men, each of whom were suitably stupefied. “Look no longer upon my novice, lest you want me to kick you from the platform!” She squinted at the formerly unconscious man, who had been awake for the last half of her farce. “Except for you, deviant. If you so much as glance at Fern’s feet, I’ll turn your rocks into skipping stones.”
His eyes darted around in search of anything else to look at. Eventually, he decided it was best to cover his face with his hands.
The first smart thing that moron has done since I arrived...
Eustace gave Fern’s now-healed hand a quick squeeze, looped an arm through hers, and moved with the nun-like poise all expected of a Seer, raising her hood and lowering her head so none saw the wide grin. Her quest was complete.
This is going to be fun.