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Riot removed the hand drawn map of a new world created by my father. The king laid the map on the soil and gestured for the boy. With a touch of hesitation, the ward knelt beside his king.
“We must be exact, Silas,” Riot whispered. “This will be a new world, a division of our people, of the gods-gifted magicks, but it will set the broken lands on a path to rise stronger.”
“Buthe’llbe stronger too.”
“He will. But instead of one throne of fate, he will fight them all.” Riot tried to smile, but it was more a wince of pain. “Help me. Help them forget; help them find their way back.”
The king and his ward pressed their hands over my father’s map. My father did not break the world, but he built it.
Wraith placed a hand on my shoulder. “The king broke the kingdoms with your father’s guidance. You were always a piece of the new tale.”
The truth of it weighed heavy on my shoulders, bending my spine. My beginning was written here, in a broken world by a broken king who wanted his family safe. In a way, I’d always been connected to Saga. Every step I took was a twisted path to find her, a woman I didn’t know existed.
A luminous sheen coated the map. Riot gasped, his nose bled from both sides. The boy had tears on his cheeks, but he never ceased the haunting chant of a new twist of fate. The bloom of light over my father’s inked boundaries, mountains, new rivers, and broken worlds bled from the parchment into the soil.
The bolt of light shot under my feet and the ground snapped like a fissure on a frozen lake. Not as violently as with my king, but there was no denying—the earth was breaking.
Riot slumped back, watching the spell dig into the bedrock, watching his world, quite literally, fall apart.
“Annon,” he said, voice weak. “When House Revna heals her broken throne, they will meet again, and together they might heal the whole of our world.”
He made a move to crawl over to his wife. A warrior tried to help, but Riot held up a hand. He dragged himself to Anneli’s body and brushed her hair off her brow. He kissed her forehead. “It’s time.”
“No,” Annon said in a whisper, one filled with fear. “We fight together until the last Rave falls.”
“I have her song, my friend. You must be part of it, you must lead her to her truth at the right time. Then, on that night, you will join me at the table, and we will share tales again.”
“Not a moment longer. Grant me that honor, Riot. Swear it. I fall for House Ode to live. That is all I ever asked.”
“Do this, and I swear to you, I shall see you in the hall of the gods when she is ready. Now, let it be,” he said. “I can give this last gift to her, to our people.”
Annon winced. He clung to the child. “I don’t understand how? You say we will fade, what does it mean?”
Riot blinked through tears when he clasped his captain’s shoulder. “Our people will only know their new worlds, making us myths. Young kingdoms will seem ancient. New histories will be forged in memories.
“My voice will be with her until it becomes hers, over and over again. Her path is different, but the same in many ways. The bond will call her back until she remembers the truth of her inheritance.”
The king’s gaze fell to the back of the child’s head. He held out his arms, and waited until his captain passed the young one over. Riot dug his fingers through the child’s smoke-stained hair. He let out a shuddering breath. He kissed the small brow. He whispered words I couldn’t hear.
“Silas, come here.” Once the ward was by his side, Riot went on. “The Norns will hold no mercy for what I will do today. They will divide their gifts. Do you remember what they are?”
The boy nodded and muttered, “We all ought to have a choice. We all deserve devotion. We win when we stand with honor. And it pays to have a touch of cunning.”
Riot smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Perfect. When they are found and restored, your bond will return. As I have taught you to use your voice, now you must do the same until you are found. She will never stop looking for the bond that draws her closer. She’ll find you.”
The boy shifted on his knees. “I didn’t want this . . .” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to make this happen. I didn’t know what I was doing when the words came and—”
“You didn’t destroy us.” Riot smiled weakly. “Your path was always destined to stand with House Ode. It is because of you there are new ways to be free again. The path is merely longer and darker.”
Roars of battle came nearer. The warriors near the trees looked into the shadows. Some unsheathed their swords.
“Riot.” Annon protested, but silenced when the king shot him a look.
With a painful grimace, Riot stood. He clung to his child and whispered, “We’ll be with you through all the lifetimes.”
The king pressed a hand to the child’s hooded head and hummed a melancholy tune. The wails ceased, and the little went limp in his arms. Tenderly he handed the shrouded young one over to the captain.
It happened swiftly. The king slammed a palm against the boy’s chest. The king’s ward cried out in pain as a brief flash of bright surrounded him. Riot moved to the captain. To his own child.
