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“Is it the wraiths?”
“Wraiths?” I echo, tension stringing my muscles tight as yet another patch of sky darkens, this one almost to the edge of the floor.
“Vale wraiths,” the plump girl says. “They’re the only things that live here in the shadow vales, but we haven’t seen any.”
“And yet you seem to be able to,” says the lanky girl, her eyes narrowing. A hateful, considering expression fills them as she stares at me. “You can see the wraiths, can point them out in the darkness.” She takes a step back. “And there’s gold dripping from your body…. You’re an alaki, one of those monsters.” Then she looks at Ixa. Her eyes widen. “The Nuru!” she shrieks.
The word slices through me, as sharp as any blade. Nuru. That is the name the Gilded Ones gave me. The name they told me meant “beloved daughter.” The entire time I was with them, they assured me I was their only full-blooded daughter, born when they cried tears of gold and vengeance.
But that was a lie. I was never their daughter; I was their slayer, a deity descended to this realm to end their wickedness. Except they captured me, lied to me, fed from my kelai, all the while using my power to amplify theirs. All the while pretending that they were the all-powerful gods when in fact they were leeches, sucking me dry. Pawn. That’s what Nuru actually means.
“You’re the Nuru,” the girl continues accusingly. “I recognize your foul mount, the blue drakos.”
Ixa sniffs, displeased by this characterization. Rude, rude girl.
When he bares his teeth at her, she takes an alarmed step back.
“I no longer answer to that insult,” I say, fixing her with a cold glare. “I am the Angoro, slayer of the gods—that is the title I have chosen for myself.”
“Angoro or Nuru, we will go nowhere with you.” The lanky girl’s jaw juts stubbornly, and she glares at the other girls. A stern reminder to them. “We are the chosen maidens of Gar Nasim. We will give our lives to the great god Oyomo to ensure that Otera is made whole again. We will heal what you broke, Deka of Irfut, and ascend to the Blissful Lands, where we will be reunited with our families in the beyond.”
She sounds so certain that she’ll go to the portion of the Afterlands reserved for only the most faithful, it’s like looking in a mirror at my old self. Once upon a time, I was like that: firmly sure of the infallibility of the gods.
“Oyomo is a lie,” I say, abandoning all attempts at civility. “He is the creation of a vengeful group of gods called the Idugu, who aim to bleed humanity dry. The only thing you’re doing by sacrificing yourself is giving those monsters your life so they can continue destroying Otera.”
“You’re the one who lies!” the girl spits. “You’re just trying to tempt us from our path!”
The plump girl slides nervous eyes toward her. “But what if she’s telling the truth, Palitz? You saw how frightened the priests were….”
“You’re too easily led, Nevra,” the dark-haired girl hisses. “These demons will say anything.”
“All right, we don’t have time for this!”
As Palitz sputters, Belcalis scoops her up and plops her onto a gryph. She turns to my other friends. “Get the girls. Preferably before we all get eaten.”
“Ye heard her!” Britta grabs two more girls as they run for Palitz, then holds them tight as they kick and scream against her before going for two more. “Careful now,” she tuts. “Don’t want me to accidentally crush ye.” She gives them a warning squeeze.
That’s enough to stop them from struggling any further, and just in time.
As my friends round up the protesting girls, the other girls hurriedly falling into line, a deep roar sounds, followed by darkness. The stars above us have died, snuffed out by an invisible hand. We all freeze where we are, glancing at each other.
And then the first vale wraith flies overhead.
5
The vale wraith smells sickly sweet. It’s the first thing I notice when it lands, its colossal body buckling the floor underneath it. That musky-sweet scent suffocates the air, a vile flower on the verge of rotting. It mixes with the acrid odor of Keita’s flames. He’s sent several floating into the air above us so everyone can see what’s happening. Now that it’s a combat situation, the girls have to be prepared to defend themselves too—even if it’s just by running to safety. Nevertheless, the odor is unbearable. Just one whiff ties my stomach into knots, memories of my final night in the Chamber of the Goddesses rushing back.
The goddesses used to smell sweet like this too. Always so sickly sweet. But that was because they were using the flowers that Etzli, the deceptively innocent-seeming, motherlike goddess, created to feed on a very specific prey: the male deathshrieks they’d kept trapped underneath their chamber all those centuries. Perhaps that sweet smell is a marker for all proxies, a sign that the gods, wherever they may be right now, are readying themselves to feed.
I immediately slip into the combat state, the world falling away until all that’s left is the gleaming white shadows of my friends, the girls, and the vale wraiths. I may not be able to fight like my friends. I may not even be able to fully use my abilities, like my voice. But the combat state is my truest, most natural state of being. The gods can take everything else from me, but not this.
I turn to regard the battlefield. Everyone’s bodies now shimmer in front of me, their strengths and weaknesses laid bare under the power of my gaze. Especially the wraiths, the rest of which have now landed as well. I focus my eyes on them, trying to find any weaknesses, any hidden tricks. But all I see is their glowing hearts, beating in their chests.
“Any word, Deka?” Britta asks, calm as she hefts her war hammer.
She’s used to my directing battles from a distance these days. And she’s used to creatures like these, which is why all she feels now is anticipation. I can see it in the way her fingers thrum against the handle of her war hammer.
She’s ready for battle.
