“A second Sundering,” I reiterated. “Like the one that happened?—”
“Millenia ago, that nearly wiped out the human race. Yes, I know what the Sundering was, Faylinn. I’m just a little taken aback that you think that could happen again. We have more technology now, we’re better prepared, and not nearly as entrenched in the religion of the gods as our ancestors.”
“You said it yourself, Rohak. They’re already here. There’s already movement in the south—a rebellion that’s desecrating villages and forcing refugees to flee. And, yes, religion was an issue at that time. But even if they weren’t devout, fighting against the gods would have been futile.”
“In what regard?” Rohak’s brow was furrowed, deep in thought as if he was trying to see something that wasn’t there.
“The gods . . . they can’t be killed,” I admitted, and Rohak shook his head, leaning forward in his chair toward me so the blanket slid from his lap to the floor.
“But you just said there were more gods before Solace and Kaos. They didn’t all just disappear—you said they died. Gods are immortal, so the only way for them to die is . . .” He trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders, hands open and pointed to the ceiling. It was evident that Rohak was growing frustrated.
“Because only a god can kill a god,” I rushed out, cutting off whatever he was going to say next. Rohak blinked slowly at me, processing my statement.
“How do you know that?” he asked, and I pointed to the prophecy from the First Matriarch.
“Here. She says, ‘two will rise when two fall.’ There are only two full-blooded gods left, right?”—Rohak nodded his head in agreement—“so it would make sense that in order for them to ‘fall’ from their power, from their godlihood, they would need to be killed by another of the same power. Humanity is growing weaker by the day—Mages are separated from their magic, but there aren’t enough Vessels for our Mages, so they rely too heavily on crystals, which is causing Mage Sickness to runrampant. Think about it, Rohak. There’s no way even a Mage as strong as you could overpower a god—especially one that has command of more than one magic. And how did they even get those magics? Two sides for every coin—they had to have taken them somehow. My best guess is that whenever they killed the god or goddess, they absorbed their powers. Magic has to have somewhere to go—it cannot just be absorbed into the ether. So it latched onto the only living thing left powerful enough to contain it—Solace or Kaos. I would be willing to bet that was the first Sundering—a war between the gods.”
Rohak rubbed his face with both hands.
“So, let me get this straight. You believe that the first Sundering—the war that killed tens of thousands of people—was started because Solace and Kaos killed the other gods and goddesses for more power? And now those same two gods have returned to—what? Finish what they started? There are no gods left for them to kill!”
I bounced my head back and forth. “Yes and no. Remember that the First Matriarch said that two would rise so two could fall? Well, that means there are two other gods—godlings?—in Elyria.”
Rohak sat frozen in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, his body shaking either with the implications of what I was saying or from the trauma of the day.
“And let me guess, you know who they are?”
I chewed my lip and fiddled with the bandage on my hand, debating what to say.
“Faylinn,” Rohak practically barked, and I jumped at the command in his voice.
“Yes. I have a hunch for one of them.”
“And?”
I blew out a shaky breath, knowing my next words would change everything—the implications would be vast and far-reaching, potentially altering the course of Elyria’s history forever.
“I have good reason to believe that one of these godlings . . . is Ellowyn d’Aelius”—Rohak sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth—“and I think Alois is going to use her to start the second Sundering.”
Chapter 49
Lex
Irapped once on the General’s door before a muffled “enter” sounded through the heavy wood. I pushed the door open to reveal a haggard-looking Rohak slumped in a chair nearest the fire. A blanket was tucked around his legs and chest, his arms resting lightly on the armrests.
“General, you wanted to see me after lessons?” I asked, shutting the door behind me.
He never peeled his eyes from the fire, the glow casting shadows that highlighted the deep purple circles beneath his eyes.
“Yes, please sit.” He gestured to the chair across from him, and I cautiously approached, perching on the edge.
The difference in Rohak from this morning till now was stark, almost impossible. His skin was sallow and waxy, his hair matted with blood, and small cuts littered his fingers.
“Rohak . . . are you . . . okay?” I asked hesitantly and sucked in a breath when he finally turned from the fire to regard me. The most concerning observation of all was the deadness in his eyes. Usually brilliant green and sparking with intelligence andfire, they now were dull and hollow; like all the life was sucked from him in one day.
“No, Lex. I’m not. The man I trusted for decades is sacrificing his people for his own machinations. He’s declaring himself king and bringing the new cadets and Ellowyn to the site of a massacre, all because a Keeper told him to once upon a time.”
His scorn-filled words hung heavy in the air, and I nodded my head once.
