Page 249 of Season Warriors & Wolves

Nubil lowered his chin to hide his grin and said, “A little rough around the edges.”

“Our fault?” one asked, offended.

I’d recognise that ego everywhere. “Ah, you must be Krig. I thought you had a moustache.” I clicked my fingers. “No, that was Henah. The woman who weaved an intelligible prophecy and raised a whole nation to come kill me. But wait, it gets better. Apparently, I am their only hope, too.”

She still stood stoic and unapologetic. “It is a testament to human nature, and it is my gift to weave the future.”

“Or your poor skills, lady,” I sneered. My reaction slipped off when I noticed one of them playing with a small blue bird in their hand, not even paying mind to me. Dyurin.

He, too, noticed me staring and offered me a smile. “Jayre is well. Among his beloved. Dragons are lonely creatures, happiest in their nests. He is happy.”

I nodded. “He better be.” Then I found Cyra amongst them, a proud looking woman, a warrior among pampered deities.

She too answered before I could ask, “He is well. But every sunrise he waits for you.”

The blur of tears was so sudden, the world sinking around me. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and stood, throwing the sceptre to their feet. “She goes back. Aurora does not belong here.”

They all stared in disbelief.

“She was a gift,” Henah said, looking down at the sceptre. “A gift cannot be returned.”

“She was a curse. Fader bestowed a curse on us.”

“Do not let hurt misguide your words,” a woman with rosy coloured hair said, stepping forward. From the way she clung to the man who scarily resembled his son, it had to be Plantae.

“Think,” I said. “Your rules do not allow for divine weapons to be bestowed to us human realms, but Aurora was handed as a weapon. Fader can break many rules, he broke so many when he banished her and gave immortality to a faithless mortal, especially the ones he set himself. But breaking rules has repercussions. So says every gospel, every whisper and book and song. Look at me. I am repercussions of breaking rules. Not one. Not even two. So many were broken and look at the chain of consequences it followed. Look at the consequences Fader’s curse caused. Fallen kingdoms, greedy kings. Turned man against man. But it turned man against god, too. What will it be next? Will it be our end next? That was what Fader wanted to see, wasn't it? How we would come to survive it. If we are worth surviving it or not. A cleanse of sorts. Sorting out realms that would not be hit by the disease that has hit the rest—faithlessness.” I looked up at the skies, opening my arms wide. “Isn’t it, you piece of shit?”

Cyra snorted and Krig shot her a look.

Pointing at them again, I said, “What you all little prickly pests spend your free time on—toying with those that bow at your feet.”

Krig glared at me. “You’re brave—”

“I am simply tired,” I sneered at the Winter God. “You do not wish to see me exhausted, believe me.”

“You misunderstand us,” Plantae said. “Severely. We cannot meddle so easily with human life. Sometimes, the only way we can help is one that will cause hurt.”

“Then don’t help.”

“The land will die,” she said. “As it was.”

“Why do you care? Are you all so hungry for our prayers?”

“Last night,” Henah said. “A little child prayed that she could see the stars more often. The moon. She prayed she could see the sun, too. The skies. She loves snow, though. And fire. She plays around fire. There are little souls that no matter how many times any of us wants to no longer shine light over you, they will always bring us back. But her little prayers do not overshadow malice. To protect those little souls, we must do whatever we can do. You should be proud, Snowlin, to protect so many little wishes that were made last night.”

Guilt was also a long trip around. Except, it wrapped like a cord on one’s throat. “What a way to justify incompetence. Throwing me right in there with guilt, like it was all my fault to begin with. Like all I went through were justifiable for the sake of many.”

Her look grew dark. “You do not understand.”

“Much, it seems. But you understand nothing at all.”

“We still cannot take it back,” Krig said, crossing his arms and looking away from me into the distance of my kingdom.

“This realm already has a guardian. It is in no need of her.”

“You are not a guardian of realms, Eldingchild,” Krig purred. “Your seat is in Caelum, the heaven you serve. Therefore, you cannot dictate or make order for any decisions.”

“Then I must abandon this seat I apparently serve in Caelum.”