Page 38 of Burn of the Everflame

A long silence passed.

“There is a way,” Sophos said.

I trudged back up and stopped, arms crossed. “Let me guess, you want something in return?”

The Kindred exchanged a solemn look.

“Hear our story,” Lumnos said. “That’s all we ask. Let us tell you of our greatest mistakes and all they cost us.”

I looked around at the others. I sensed a current of words unspoken, the hum of a deeper truth they kept concealed. Angry as I was at them, my instincts told me this was a story I needed to hear.

And yet a sinking feeling told me it was a story I might soon wish I never knew.

“We know you’ve heard the history of our arrival to your world,” Sophos said as we strolled the path to the northern shore. The others were gathered behind us, Arboros grazing her fingers through the tall grass while Meros turned her face to the sky, smiling at the kiss of the breeze.

“Only what the Descended deemed mortals worthy to know,” I said tartly. “Was it a lie, like everything else?”

“Not entirely. In the world we first called home, our people were the caretakers of a very powerful force. It made us immortal and made our bodies strong, and it blessed our bloodlines with magic. Our people kept it a closely guarded secret, because we feared outsiders might try to steal it and use it to do terrible things.”

“It wasn’t the outsiders we should have feared,” Lumnos said.

Sophos nodded. “Among our own kind, there were those who wished to use the force for more. They claimed they were acting in our people’s interests, but others believed they wanted the power for themselves. The disagreements turned violent, and war broke out. Our leaders threatened to use the force against those who opposed them. They were warned it would destroy us, but they did not listen.”

I frowned. “You weren’t the leaders?”

“Not at all. In our world, we were merely clerics.”

Lumnos came up beside me. “What you must know is that we tried everything we could to save our world, and we failed. We did not come here to conquer your people, Diem. We had only one goal: to survive. We are the last of our kind.”

I saw the pain in her expression and the shared grief that turned her siblings quiet. Much as I wanted to hate them—much as I did hate them—my foolish heart hurt for the sorrow they must have felt leaving everything they knew behind.

We reached the edge of the path. Montios and Meros walked together to the shore, the latter kneeling to smile at the lapping waves while the former stared pensively toward the distant mountains. Arboros had wandered into a patch of wildflowers, cupping her hands around their blooms. Even Lumnos seemed to lose herself gazing at the sun.

These millennia-old beings had crossed worlds and crafted godlike spells, but today they looked like curious children stumbling on old, beloved toys.

“Forgive us,” Sophos said. “Where we are now, there is nothing to smell or touch or read. There is only time.” He heaved a tired-sounding sigh. “Endless, mind-numbing time.”

“And fates,” Umbros added. “So many possible fates.”

“You can see the future?” I asked.

“We see what might be the future,” Sophos said. “Paths this world might take, depending on the choices of those living in it.”

“Is that why you’ve come—you want me to put this world on a specific path?”

Umbros and Sophos exchanged a glance.

“It is . . . forbidden for us to . . . intervene,” Sophos said, choosing each word with deliberate care.

I shot him a dull look. “You haven’t done that already? There’s hardly a part of my life you haven’t manipulated with all your ‘endless, mind-numbing time.’”

“We gave you our Crowns,” Lumnos said. “Beyond that, every choice has been yours to make.”

I bit down on a snappy response. I certainly did not feel like I’d had much of a choice in anything lately—not when every alternative would have meant losing someone I loved.

“My heir Doriel revealed to you that we had a tenth, our youngest brother,” Sophos went on.

“Omnos,” I said. “The one whose line I descend from.”