I watched her, trying to understand what had caught Aramaz’s attention, what fascinated my brother so that he spent so much time with her beyond their shared duties. She was undeniably beautiful, but then, all of us Aurea were, in our own way. It wasn’t surprising. Why settle for anything less than perfection when assuming any form we desired required merely a thought?
Was there anything beyond appearances that drew Aramaz toBaradaz? Was she more than a pretty face? I doubted it. My brother had always been dreadfully simple in his tastes. It was why he preferred a broad-shouldered warrior form to my tall, lithe stature. But then, I prided myself more on my sharp mind than any illusions of physical prowess.
Then came the day I first heard Baradaz laugh. It was a sound that demanded attention, surprisingly hoarse and wild for someone praised as the flawless image of female perfection. The joy behind it utterly transformed her face, filling it with an ethereal light, a beauty so far above anything else that it hurt to look at it directly.
I knew the Allfather had granted her the touch of the Flame, the one thing he had always denied me—the true power of creation. But I had not understood what it meant. My brother would never willingly turn away from that light, from that Flame.
So, there was only one way: I had to extinguish it.
Getting rid of her would not be an easy task, I pondered, wandering through the gently rolling hills around Lyrheim as I often did. She was rarely alone, always surrounded by a gaggle of servants or silly, adoring mortals. Diverting suspicion from myself would be a challenge; my every action was watched by countless fearful eyes. And even if I devised a plan, there was one who would know I was responsible. My jaw locked into a grim line as I sat on a stone next to one of the many prettily gurgling brooks in the hills. The disaster with my dragons had taught me the Allfather knew about everything happening in Aron-Lyr, even if he did not often deign to interfere.
I let my fingers trail through the icy water of the brook, relishing its cold bite on my skin. This place was too bright, too mellow for my taste. Endless perfection that was tiring in its predictability, like the row of yellow flowers bordering the brook—surely one of Tanez’sproud achievements. Every single petal formed exactly like the others, and…
Amid all the shiny brightness, a different color caught my eye. I stilled in curiosity, a tendril of Darkness reaching out to bring the little flower to me. One small black petal stood out against the vivid ring of yellow. My finger traced over its soft surface, and something stirred deep within me—a flicker of Chaos. How odd, so close to Lyrheim.
I had found more traces of it all over Aron-Lyr, of course. But for it to trickle through the Veil here meant it was becoming stronger. This world was not as immune to its touch as we had been told. Another lie our Maker had spun, like telling us there was only danger in the Other, cleverly omitting that there was also power.
Here was the answer I had been searching for. I had to get Baradaz into the Other with me.
I did not know how to achieve it yet, but I was reasonably sure our Maker would not see what had happened if she vanished there. A slight smile played at my lips as I imagined her gone. Surely Aramaz would be devastated, naturally turning to me in his anguish. Without the Flame, there would be no way to create true life as the Allfather intended. The perfect opportunity to show my brother and the others that we could have power on our own if we were just brave enough to reach for it.
A shrill wail cut through my thoughts. I looked around in annoyance, spotting one of the mortals my fellow Aurea had created, sitting in the grass not far away. A small one, though old enough to leave its mother’s side, as it was alone. When the sobs did not cease, I got to my feet. It seemed I had to deal with this if I wanted my peace back.
The little one stared up at me as I stopped in front of him. For a moment, he wailed even louder, big blue eyes wide in a dainty face,pointy ears peeking out from tangled golden locks. A little Elfling. One of Baradaz and Aramaz’s children. Of course they had made the most beautiful race of all the Aurea.
Remembering something I had heard about calming animals, I went down to one knee, ensuring my voice was pleasant and unthreatening. “What happened, little one? You are loud enough to disturb the peace of the gods.”
My words made the Elfling stop crying abruptly with a visible hiccup. A small, slightly grubby hand was thrust in my direction. A butterfly rested on the palm, a visible tear marring one of its beautiful iridescent wings, shining in shades of purple, red, and blue. It did not move.
“I fear it is dead,” I said, seeing no sense in softening the truth.
Another glittering tear trailed down a soft cheek. “I did not want to break it. But it was so pretty, and…”
Ah, yes. Guilt must be a terrible feeling to experience.
“Sometimes we destroy things without meaning to,” I answered, gently taking the butterfly from the child’s hands. “Unfortunately, I am no healer—”
“Lirindir!”
The sharp exclamation behind us made the little Elf’s head swivel around at once. I slowly followed his gaze.
The same golden hair and blue eyes as the child. That must be the boy’s mother. I could see the exact moment she recognized me, the worry in her eyes replaced by horror.
“My lord.” Her voice trembled with open fear. “Please forgive my son. He did not want to—”
“What is the matter here?”
I knew at once who had interrupted us. My power stirred within me at the touch of hers in the air, pulsing with an eagerness thatwas oddly disturbing. Fate had a way of laughing at all our plans. I had wondered how to get my brother’s bride alone, and here she was, the glorious Lady of Light, her red hair glowing in the sun, a silky white dress fluttering around her. Had she rushed over here from my brother’s hall the moment she had seen me near a mortal?
“Just a child being a little overenthusiastic in his play,” I said mildly, tilting my hand to show her the dead butterfly.
“I see.” Baradaz’s answer was soft, but the suspicion on her face did not lessen, a faint crease appearing between her brows. It set me on edge. Did she really think I would harm a hapless mortal—a child, moreover—without any provocation?
“Your children must be so thankful that their goddess is always looking out for them,” I commented coldly. I watched with narrowed eyes as Baradaz calmed the Elvish female with a few reassuring words, telling her to return to the city. As the Elves left, their voices drifted back to us.
“But Mother, he was only talking to me. He wanted to help me heal the butterfly.”
“You have to stay away from him. Noctis is not like the other gods. He is dangerous.”
