The taste of blood on my tongue. My teeth had sharpened to fangs, shredding my lower lip to stifle any sound of anguish. I focused on the pain, letting it wash over me until it drowned out everything else.
The Allfather bestowed one final touch upon me as he left me among the broken bodies of my dragons. His voice resounded in my head, a cold, unyielding presence.“I wish this had not been necessary, Belekoroz,”he said.“That you could simply do what is expected of you.”
Then why,I wanted to scream, the words stuck in my throat like broken glass, choking me,did you create me this way?
It was Aramaz who found me.
Standing in front of a pyre, where I had dragged the bodies to burn them, strands of Fire magic flowing effortlessly to my hands, fueled by my hate and fury. The flames roared, casting flickering shadows on the icy ground, their heat a stark contrast to the cold emptiness within me. No tears wet my face. My heart was an aching void, beating out of sheer stubbornness.
To be fair, this wasn’t the first time my brother had visited me. Over the years, he had repeatedly tried to lure me to the city he and the other Aurea had built, cautioning me against my acts of rebellion. I always declined. A weak part of me took pleasure in knowing he cared enough to seek me out, but my anger—kept alive by the suspicion that his visits were motivated by pity—always won.
“Come with me, brother,” Aramaz said, stepping up beside me, though he was wise enough not to touch me. “It is not good for you to remain here alone.”
His words forced a bitter laugh from my lips. “To rule the Darkness is to be alone,” I said. A simple truth I had foolishly forgotten.
“He should not have destroyed your dragons.”
Surprise cut through my misery at my brother’s comment.Censure of our Maker’s decision from his most glorious child was not something I had expected to hear. I took him in: the King of Aron-Lyr, pristine as ever, dressed all in white, his long golden hair and blue eyes the only things standing out in the snow. All the power in this world had been granted to him, yet he could not face me, that bright gaze fixed on the flames before us.
“Or at least he shouldn’t have forced you to do it yourself,” he added, his voice gentle.
I scoffed. “And who would have done it then? You?” If one thing was certain about my brother, it was his inability to make hard decisions, to do what was necessary. I was the best example of that.
Those blue eyes finally met mine, so open, so honest that it made something inside me clench. “Yes, if it would have lessened your pain,” Aramaz said. And I believed him.
That was the thing with my brother. Despite all the jealousy, all the resentment I felt toward him, there were moments of understanding—sparks of light amid the darkness.
Perhaps that was why I could never fully extinguish the love I felt for him. Sometimes it only made me hate him even more.
“Come to Lyrheim with me,” Aramaz said, his eyes holding a fragile hope.
I longed to shake off the reassuring hand on my shoulder, to snarl at him to leave me be, to shatter his hope into a thousand pieces. Yet the warmth of his touch, his cursed compassion that I did not ask for, that I did not need… It seeped into my very being.
I knew it would change nothing. Even at the center of the Home of Light, amid my brethren, I would remain alone. Still, I had my moments of foolish hope, too. Perhaps one day I would make the others see. Perhaps one day they would understand.
“Fine,” I answered. “I will come with you.”
CHAPTER
11
THE GOLDEN DAYS OF LYRHEIM
1800 years after the making of Aron-Lyr
Rada
Shh, steady now,” I murmured, patting the horse’s flank as it neighed nervously, its ears flicking forward at my gentle tone. Its gait remained calm, strong muscles tensing as it pulled the plow through the rich, dark earth beneath us. The scent of freshly turned soil filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of wildflowers blooming nearby. Tanez walked on the other side of the animal, her face animated as she explained the details of preparing the field for the next round of sowing to the bright-eyed group of small, rotund Brownies and tall, graceful Elves trailing behind us. Clad in simple but well-made tunics and dresses—weaving was a skill they had been taught by Khiraz and Enlial—they followed the Aurea of Earth’s instructions with rapt attention.
Many centuries had passed since we had come to Aron-Lyr, and we had founded a city in the center of our lands: Lyrheim, the Home of Light. Here we dwelled, creating our children as the Allfather had wished and teaching them how to work the land so that it could feed them. Only one dark cloud marred thoseearly days.
Belekoroz’s presence.
It had not taken long for conflict to arise after Aramaz had convinced him to join us. Too great was his urge to always do things his way, to not follow the instructions the Allfather had given us. All too often he wreaked havoc with our creations, undoing on purpose what we had so painstakingly built with a few mindless surges of his powers.
The piercing screech of a hawk drew my attention from the horse toward the King’s Hall. Rising majestically from the green hills in the heart of Lyrheim, the hall skillfully melded stone and wood. Its vast expanse easily housed Aramaz’s and my quarters, along with the grand circular room where the King’s Council held its meetings. Our Anima dwelled with us, while most of the other Aurea had chosen similar living arrangements in buildings grouped around the hall.
Golden-brown feathers glinted in the sun, a large bird of prey diving toward us at breakneck speed. A moment before the animal touched the ground, its outline shimmered and dissolved into a bright light. It reformed into a tall Elvish woman, her golden hair pinned into a strict bun, revealing her pointed ears. Her pale blue skirts fanned out as she sank into a graceful curtsy. Elodia. The stern Anima was my handmaiden. Her normally stoic demeanor was replaced by worry as she hastened to my side.
