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“Kolis eventually gave up.” Some of the shadows cleared from Penellaphe’s eyes as she smiled at him. “Afterwards, I went to Mount Lotho. I figured if anyone could make any sense of it, it would be the Arae.”
“We weren’t much help at first. We hate prophecies.” Holland laughed dryly. “It wasn’t until Eythos came to ask what, if anything, could be done about his brother, that I recalled the prophecy and Kolis’s interest in it. We shared it with him, and Eythos seemed to have some sort of understanding.”
“What was it? This prophecy?” Nyktos asked. “Can you tell us?”
“What I saw was just disjointed images. People ruling in the mortal realm that didn’t appear mortal—places I don’t think yet exist.”
“Like what?”
“Like cities forever laid to waste. Kingdoms shattered and rebuilt. Great and…terrible wars—wars between Kings…and between Queens.” Her brows pinched. “A forest made of trees the color of blood.”
Nyktos frowned. “The Red Woods?”
She nodded. “But in the mortal realm, and full of death. Steeped in the sins and secrets of hundreds and hundreds of years.”
“Well,” I said, exhaling slowly. “None of that sounds good.”
“But I also saw her. I saw them. A Chosen and a descendant of the First.” The eather burned brightly in Penellaphe’s eyes as they met mine. “A Queen of Flesh and Fire. And him, a King risen from Blood and Ash, who ruled side by side with man. And they…they felt right. They felt like hope.”
I really had no idea who they were or what that meant, but I would have to take her word for it. “Did you see anything else?”
“Nothing that I can understand enough to tell, but I remember the words. I’ll never forget them.” She looked down as Holland squeezed her hand once more and then let go. She cleared her throat. “‘From the desperation of golden crowns and born of mortal flesh, a great primal power rises as the heir to the lands and seas, to the skies and all the realms. A shadow in the ember, a light in the flame, to become a fire in the flesh. When the stars fall from the night, the great mountains crumble into the seas, and old bones raise their swords beside the gods, the false one will be stripped from glory until two born of the same misdeeds, born of the same great and Primal power in the mortal realm. A first daughter, with blood full of fire, fated for the once-promised King. And the second daughter, with blood full of ash and ice, the other half of the future King. Together, they will remake the realms as they usher in the end.’”
She paused, looking up with eyes as bright as polished sapphires. “‘And so it will begin with the last Chosen blood spilled, the great conspirator birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals will awaken as the Harbinger and the Bringer of Death and Destruction to the lands gifted by the gods. Beware, for the end will come from the west to destroy the east and lay waste to all which lies between.’” She exhaled unsteadily. “That’s…that’s it.”
I started to speak and then stopped, glancing up at Nyktos. There was a thoughtful pinch to the set of his lips and a whole lot of what the hell to the arch of his brow.
“That sounds…” Nyktos blinked slowly. “That sounded intense.”
Penellaphe laughed lightly. “Isn’t it, though?”
Nyktos nodded slowly. “I think it’s safe to assume that the latter part is referencing my uncle. He is the great conspirator—the rightful Bringer of Death. He, along with my father, were born in the west.” Nyktos looked down at me. “They were born in the mortal realm. Roughly where present-day Carsodonia stands.”
“And the last part of the prophecy means that he will destroy all the lands, from west to east, including the mortal realm?” I wiped my hands down my thighs.
“Depends on how one defines Chosen,” Holland said. “It could be speaking of those chosen to serve the gods or…or those like you, chosen for a different purpose.”
“And the ‘birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals’ could mean a rebirth of sorts,” Nyktos said. “Not an actual birth.”
“Okay. I get that, but how can that be referencing Kolis?” I asked. “How can he be awakened when he’s already…” I trailed off,
“Unless he goes to sleep,” Nyktos murmured, looking over at Holland and the goddess. “That will never happen.”
Holland head inclined. “Prophecies…they are only a possibility. So many things can change them, and from what I understand, not every word is to be taken literally. The problem is, we do not often know which words should be.”
I snorted at that. “The first part? The desperation of golden crowns? Could that be referencing Roderick Mierel? He was desperate if not yet a King at the time the deal was made.”
