Page 2 of Revealing Fate

“Alcior. Wake.”

The shurii turned and slowly opened sleep-heavy eyes. He blinked once lazily, then again. The man yelped and shifted on instinct, ripping his long sleeping shirt at the seams as creamy fur exploded, replacing sun-weathered skin.

“Your second form was given by me, Alcior. It will not save you. Come. We must speak.” The Godking ducked his head beneath the threshold and retreated to the main quarters, leaving Alcior to calm his racing heart and recapture his composure.

When the old man finally emerged from the bedroom, he was wearing proper clothes. He tossed the ruined nightshirt into a trash can by the front door. Alcior faced the Godking and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled, graying hair. “Forgive my unpreparedness, Lord. I was not expecting you.”

The Godking pulled a chair from under the table and gestured for Alcior to sit. He did.

“What did you feel today, Alcior? Was aught amiss?”

The man’s bushy brows knit together in concern. “It was a strange day, Lord. The sky…rippled. The waters stilled as though they belonged to a placid mountain lake and not the roving sea. I felt…” Alcior closed his eyes, searching his mind for the proper words. “Unnerved. Rootless.” The shurii’s lids reopened, and he studied his creator. “Something ill has transpired.”

The Godking rested back on his haunches, curling his tail in close, careful to avoid knocking over the sparse furniture. He told Alcior what had transpired, omitting no truth. This humble male became the first shurii to learn of the Godking’s betrayal, the Goddess’s curse, and the fate of their people.

When the Godking was finished with his tale, Alcior retrieved a dust-covered bottle and a wooden cup from his meager cupboard. He worked free the cork with some effort and poured a measure of the astringent liquor before returning to his seat. He sipped, processing.

“Is our great mother truly gone, then?” To Alcior’s credit, his tone held no accusation, only sorrow. The Godking would not have faulted him if it had.

“She is.”

“Can you see her, Lord?”

Would that he could. The Goddess did not want to be found. Wherever she’d gone, he was blocked from seeing her. Her own power limited his omniscience. “I cannot.”

Alcior fingered the cup. “What does this mean for the people?”

“It means that change is imminent. I cannot undo what the Goddess has done.”

Alcior looked up. “The Primordial Male will be from your strongest line. That would be…”

The Godking’s tail flicked. “Yes.”

Alcior nodded, as though expecting this response. “A good line. And the Prima?”

Onyx eyes fixed on the smaller man’s azure ones. The Godking sifted time and space, looking ahead through untold generations, seeking a single precious light. His ear twitched. Odd. A thing that came as easily to him as his earthly form drawing breath suddenly seemed just beyond his reach. He looked again. And again. His godly powers probed the future, the past, the present. She was not there.

“How long do we have?” Alcior pressed.

The Godking turned his focus to the Primordial Male. He knew the line. His Goddess had given him that much, at least. And yet…

“Lord?”

The Goddess’s words came back to him. You will suffer as you watch. As you wait for them.

No.

She blocked him. Maimed his discernment. Her curse had hidden the Prima and Primordial Male from his sight. This was the change he had felt. The wrongness that lingered after the Goddess left. His connection to the people, his foresight, was now riddled with uncertainty. The knowledge, or rather lack thereof, gave him pause.

Finally, the Godking spoke four impossible words. “I do not know.”

Alcior’s lips parted. He hesitated. “But…”

“It is not known to me. They…are not known to me.”

“But Lord,” Alcior insisted. “All creation is known to you. Even before we are born, the spirits of the people are yours. How could⁠—”

A low rumble filled the tiny room. The Godking’s chest reverberated in warning. Alcior dropped out of his chair, bowing his head to the earthen floor.