“I wish I could tell you more,” they said. “Give you guidance in the storms to come. But instead I have to warn you. Sometimes when we try to prevent one future, we only hasten along another.”
I did not rejoin Aramaz immediately after leaving the Hall of Air, instead lingering on the wooden balcony high above Lyrheim, breathing in the cold winter air, my stars shining above me.
They were a beacon to others. Oh, how I wished they could also steer me on the right path. This last prophecy had sounded hauntingly like an ominous warning meant only for me. Was this what the Allfather had meant when he had warned me of failure before sending me to Aron-Lyr? Had he known how much I would struggle to fulfill my duty?
My mind was still racing as I joined Aramaz beneath the trees where he waited for me.
“I never wished this burden upon you, Baradaz,” he said as he caught sight of me. The light of my stars wasn’t bright enough to reveal any tears on his face, but I heard them in his voice, hoarse with pain and regret.
I realized then that I did cherish him—for his kindness, the brightness of his spirit, and his steadfast belief. Why wasn’t it enough? Why was my cursed heart so weak? Why did it long for something more when I had everything I could ever ask for?
“Did the Allfather order you to keep Belekoroz under control?” I asked, the words heavy in the darkness.
Aramaz sucked in a breath, clearly surprised I had come to this conclusion. He didn’t answer immediately, instead turning toward the Temple of Order, the small lights of its blazing torches barely keeping the darkness at bay.
“I know the Allfather only has our best interests at heart,” he said hesitantly. “But sometimes even I question his wisdom.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped him, a bitter sound that echoed in the still night. “Perhaps Belekoroz is right. I can’t make the hard decisions.”
I went to him then, placing my hand on his arm. He startled; it had been a long time since I had initiated any touch between us. I felt his warmth through the fabric of his tunic, a stark contrast to the cold winter air. “You are a good king,” I told him softly. “And a good man. It’s not your fault that fate demands the impossible from you.”
As terrible as the truth was, I was grateful for his trust. His calculating behavior regarding Belekoroz and me had unsettled me, sometimes even made me resent him. But knowing he was only trying to avoid the dark fate we had seen changed things. It pained me to admit, but I had to agree with him. Even the slightest hope was worthcontemplating the unthinkable. I had to prove myself worthy of the trust he and the Allfather put in me.
“I am afraid, Baradaz.” Aramaz’s voice broke as he covered my hand with his larger one. “Afraid I won’t be able to save my brother and still protect this world.”
“I am afraid as well,” I murmured, my heart aching for him. I had been so blind, selfishly assuming I was the only one tormented by the choices fate and duty had put before me. When he pulled me into his arms, I went willingly, sensing he needed the comfort as much as I did. “Perhaps we can be afraid together,” I said, nestling into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. “And find new hope beyond the shadows of our doubts.”
“Thank you, Baradaz. For being there.” Aramaz’s breath stirred my hair, his embrace tightening, as if he feared letting go. “I feel as if I do not deserve you.”
For a while we stood in the dark night together, silent and full of sorrow, but somehow less alone. My stars above shimmered with a distant, cold light, calling to me.
“Go to the north,” I said, my voice full of newfound resolve. Despite Enlial’s ominous words, I was not willing to give up. “He is not yet lost to us. Not completely.”
Of that I was certain. Despite everything, Belekoroz had not reached for his power as Aramaz had lashed out at him, nor had he betrayed our secret in an attempt to wound his brother. There remained a part of him that still yearned for belonging.
When Aramaz tried to interrupt me, I touched his cheek. “Ending his exile is a decision only the king can make. It has to be you who extends a hand to him.”
I knew Belekoroz. Whatever the truth about his involvement in Chaos poisoning the Humans, he had felt betrayed by Aramaz andme. So much so that even my attempts to reach out to him had come too late. If we wanted to bridge the rift between us, we would first have to heal that hurt. And I had an idea of how to achieve that.
I pressed Aramaz’s hand in reassurance and smiled. “Though I will grant you my help.”
CHAPTER
41
THE GOLDEN DAYS OF LYRHEIM
2400 years after the making of Aron-Lyr, 600 years after the creation of Humans
Noctis
The Human is back.”
Masir’s smooth voice distracted me just enough that I reacted too late. The war hammer struck, knocking my sword from my hand and crashing into my arm with a sickening crunch. Bone shattered. I slammed into the ground, the cold, unforgiving floor of the training hall sending a jolt of agony through my body.
Fuck.I lay on the icy black stone, struggling to breathe through the excruciating pain as the edges of my vision darkened. Strands of Air and Water magic flowed into me, numbing my injured limb. Though I lacked true healing abilities, I could at least dull the pain.
A broad face loomed over me, square teeth bared in unconcealed glee. “No use trying to heal that, Master,” Galator said, his voice a rumbling growl. “You’ll have to remake that arm.”
I cursed, my stomach churning at the sight of mangled flesh and glistening bone shards protruding from my arm. Blood oozed from the wound, pooling beneath me. Galator was right; the arm was beyond saving.
