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She felt the depth of that promise in her bones, and the rest of the words fell from her tongue in a steady stream.
‘In the light of the Furies, I swear my allegiance, my loyalty, to casting the evil from these lands. I will hunt. I will punish. I will kill. Any and all who threaten these kingdoms. My blood, my steel, are yours. I vow that in the end of days, I will answer the call.’
As her oath left her lips, Thea gripped the sword fully in her hands, the rest of the strange world fading away as she gauged the weight of it. She’d never seen a more beautiful blade, had never held something that fitted her so perfectly. The sword sang in her grasp, and she felt the whisper of its magic, its origin.
‘Naarvian steel,’ she breathed before she could stop herself.
‘Yes, storm wielder. Naarvian steel. The last of it, mined straight from the source. You are a Warsword now.’
The Fury touched the tip of her finger to the sharp point of the blade, and suddenly Thea could see it unfolding… The star shower with which the Furies themselves had struck thekingdom, a blur of bright, brilliant streaks across the night sky. The crater forming deep in the earth below, singing with their power, their magic.
Now, Thea held it in her hands. At long last, she’d found the missing piece of herself… and it had been forged with blood and steel.
She bowed her head. ‘Thank you.’
‘And yet, this is not all you ask of us,’ the third Fury said. ‘Not all you had hoped for in the Great Rite.’
‘No…’ Thea whispered.
‘Then ask what you must,’ the Fury told her. ‘You have one question.’
Thea lowered her new sword to her side, her body still singing with the weight of it in her palm. She met each Fury’s gaze, pushing her shoulders back. They could grant her time, a life to share with Wilder, with the family she had made along the dark and stormy road. This was the moment she had waited for all her life, the opportunity to take fate into her own hands and master her own destiny.
And so she took it.
‘What are your names?’ she asked, her voice quiet yet firm.
Their expressions mirrored one another, and told Thea it wasn’t often that the great Furies themselves were surprised.
‘That is not the question you came here with.’
‘No,’ Thea admitted. ‘It’s not. But it is my question all the same.’
‘No man who came before you asked such a thing.’
‘I’m not a man.’
A long, lingering silence followed.
‘Why do you ask it now?’ the first Fury asked her at last.
Each of her own titles surged through her.Thea. Althea Nine Lives. Althea Zoltaire. Althea Embervale. Shieldbearer. Guardian. Wraith Slayer. Shadow of Death. Warsword. Heir.
‘Because there is power in names,’ Thea replied. ‘And women whose might is etched in history deserve to have their names carved there too.’
The Furies exchanged looks with one another, a silent conversation taking place between them before the third stepped forward. ‘This is all you ask?’
‘It’s all I ask.’
The goddess nodded. ‘Then I am Iseldra.’
The second came forward next. ‘And I am Morwynn.’
The first Fury, the one who had addressed her as the Rite had faded around her, smiled now. ‘And I am Valdara.’
Iseldra, Morwynn and Valdara…
‘It’s an honour to meet you.’ Thea bowed low. She wondered if it would be the only bow she ever made of her own free will to those who had earnt it, rather than out of obligation.
