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The Great Hall was almost empty, except for Mother, Father, the witches’ council, and me. We shed the formality and used one of the tables in the middle. The servants had had their fill and were quicker to clear up and leave their tables.
“A storm,” I squeaked. “How can there be one in Prozeus?”
“Exactly. How can there be one in Prozeus,” Farah said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Who saw it?” I asked, wondering if seeking the help of Demetria was all for nothing. I did not believe our witches were strong enough to do any scrying or even some vivid seeing. Now, however, it seemed that one of them could have tried to see what was going on.
“Diana, of course,” my mother said.
“Ha. Of course? So, are all your powers now back? Is the continent free from drought? Now, how can we repay Metheus after he assisted us when we were in trouble?”
I did not want to look at the mix of pity and shock on some of the witches’ faces. I sought my father’s face. He was the only one I could rely on, the calming center of my mother – and mine, as well, before he had fallen ill.
“Father, what can we do to help Prozeus? Can we see more than the storm, peer closer?”
“Whatever it is that is plaguing their domain sounds like the Ninurta. He used to be the god of the plow. Now, he is a god of war, an absorber. He has been hungry for centuries.”
He did not really answer my question, but he was trying to tell me something. He was telling me that he did not want me out there, not when we did not know the whole story of this angry god and the storm that was lashing Prozeus.
“Are you telling me, Father, that he is a mindless god? He does not know what he is doing? He is just rolling around and across because Erishkigal is gone?”
My mother flinched at the mention of the fallen goddess’ name. Their history was complicated - a story of love and betrayal. My mother was probably relieved and devastated that Erishkigal was gone. At the same time.
“He had been sleeping for a long time. He might not be how he was then. He had changed through the years. He could change again.”
I turned to Diana. She looked tired, worn out, possibly from the scrying. She had not done so in more than a year.
“What did you see? Did you see Metheus?”
“I am sorry, Your Majesty. I saw the storm. It only hit Prozeus. The other kingdoms of Arrowspear are as dry as ever. I have not seen who was responsible for it, nor do I know what the motivation is. For now,” she said, rubbing her forehead with her thumb and index finger.
Then, she looked me straight in the eye through what seemed like her haze of pain. It was as if she had seen what I had done.
As her gaze became more intense, I had no doubt she had seen what I had done in the forest. Her eyes gleamed red, reflecting the firebird. It was almost like she had become a Seer who could make others see what they saw. I wondered if the others had seen the fire in her eyes. However, the lack of reaction told me that they must have been oblivious. Diana's fingers stopped rubbing her forehead. Then, she clutched my hand.
“Where have you been today?” she asked. She did not have to interrogate. She knew. However, she wanted me to say the words.
“I was taking a stroll,” I answered with a bitter smile.
“Where?”
Everyone else had turned their attention to me. Scrutinizing. Waiting. I felt my palms sweat. I knew then that I could not lie, not to all these people.
“I went to the forest,” I whispered.
“Why would you do that?” my mother chastised. "Not right now, when we do not know what kinds of dangers we face."
“I turned. I shifted.”
“You did what? You have not done so in a long time.” My mother thought she needed to know everything that happened to her family. I could not blame her. In my case, she had a reason to want to know all the details.
“I soared, Mother, and I was ablaze. I had not attempted to fly, not after we had shifter hate razing the continent.”
“How did it feel? I must ask. I miss my power, the way it connects me to the spirits,” Farah sighed wistfully, eyes closed and arms crossed over her chest. She took another long, deep breath. Then, she opened her eyes.
“It was glorious but frightening, too. I thought I was going to fall and slam on the forest floor,” I admitted. “But aren’t your powers coming back?”
“Some of it. Little by little. Excruciatingly,” enunciated Farah, her face moving in tune with her emotions. She had always prided herself as one of the most powerful witches on the continent. She was also one of two spirit witches left. Her niece Clare was the other remaining one. Clare served at my brother’s court. The last time I heard of her, she was betrothed to one of his guards. I wondered if she still had her full power.
