Cyrus was about to do something unforgivable; she could feel it in her bones.
A call came on the breeze like a low, lilting whistle.
Her father stiffened, his spine snapping straight like a soldier awaiting judgement. The wind shifted, heavy with surging power, as a pressure rapidly filled the cove. It pressed against her skin, crackling like the lightning in her veins.
From the jagged shadows between the rocky cliffs, curling tendrils of dark mist and flickering heat rose from the ground.
And then the air split. It was sudden and savage, as if the world itself had been gashed open by unseen claws.
Blinding light bled from within the lashing shadows, and she staggered back instinctively. Every inch of her skin prickled as power surged outward, crackling in the air as the earth trembled beneath her bare feet.
And then three figures stepped forward, emerging from the dark mist.
Esmyra recognized Irah instantly by his massive frame, while a subtle crimson light pulsed beneath his rich-brown skin like a living blaze. Fire kissed the edge of his fingers as he walked, his face riddled with anger.
Villaem, the God of Soil and Growth, emerged directly behind him, his hair a wild, tangled mane of red even when braided back with vines. And lastly Vydenne, the Goddess of Illusion, followed them, her hair a flowing river of raven-black that shimmered with both silver and gold light as her pale skin became illuminated by the moon.
Esmyra’s mouth went dry at the sight of them all together. The last time this occurred, she had witnessed her own murder at their hands.
Cyrus stepped forward slowly, his boots crunching over gravel and damp sand as he approached them. His hands trembled at his sides, and her pulse thrashed harder with every step he took toward the gods.
They said nothing as he approached, merely watching with a subtle look of disgust.
When he halted before them, Irah began to circle her father slowly. A crown of flame ignited above his brow, as if daring Cyrus to run.
“It appears your loyalty is no longer to Lephyrin, Cyrus Blackwood.” Irah grinned as he took his place back in between Vydenne and Villaem.
Esmyra’s eyes flared at the accusation, and before she knew it, she was running up to them, stopping only a few feet away.
“And what might you mean by that?” Cyrus challenged.
“Enough of your petty taunts, Irah,” Vydenne hissed before she stepped toward Cyrus. “We know your loyalties lie with Maerinys and their royals. So, with that, we can only assume it also lay with their goddesses.”
“Well, I do live out at sea.” Cyrus stroked his beard and shrugged. “It wouldn’t be a difficult guess.”
“Are you capable of gathering the Aeress family together?” Villaem added.
Her father tensed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Irah scoffed. “Enough of that, Cyrus. You’ve sunk rival merchant ships on quiet orders and left no survivors. You’ve smuggled contraband into ports wrapped in royal colors and even kidnapped the occasional political problem who dared challenge their rule. We’re well aware you’ve made people disappear when it was convenient for them. Don’t insult us with your lies.”
Cyrus’s throat bobbed as they listed off his sins, but he didn’t speak.
“You’ve even posed as a merchant captain and poisoned a harbor’s water supply, just to shift trade routes in Maerinys’s favor.”
Her father opened his mouth to object, but Irah cut himoff.
“We know who you are. You’ve served as their hand. You’re always outside the law, never spoken of in their courts, but you’ve become essential to them all the same.”
Father worked for the Aeress family in secret?That must’ve been why he was there that day the kingdom sank.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
“Aye,” he finally muttered. “I’ve done things for the crown. But it appears you don’t need me to confirm that.”
His words dripped with challenge, and Esmyra nearly snorted. Cyrus was taunting the gods just as she would. She truly was her father’s daughter, and it brought her an odd sense of comfort in the chaos she found herself in.
“So, they trust you,” Villaem interjected.
