Page 77 of The Trials of Ophelia
Gaveny’s light fell across the chamber, a myriad of turquoise and deep blues and sea greens rippling with golden rays like sun streaming through the surf. It painted the bloodied scene, clashing and cleansing and immortalizing it.
“How does it feel, brother?” Valyrie asked the Seawatcher. Her eyes widened, silver hair streaming to her waist. Her wings were dim behind her.
Hesitantly, Gaveny rose higher. He flexed those massive wings, the edges tipped in luminescent blue. “It is…sublime.” A grin broke across the Angel’s face, his brown ringlets fluttering in his wind.
My own light pulsed against my skin, power stirring. It slithered through my veins as naturally as the breath I once drew. I smiled internally at the foreign beast, purring in time with it. Relished the mists within me.
And as the two of us basked in it, the chamber forgot about the one crumpled beneath us, power too consuming. It was what he deserved for the sins he wrought, for the power internally attacking our current chosen because of him.
Finally, as my wonder settled, I found our master once again silent, milky eyes locked on the cracked Angelglass. He did not feel the thrill of what occurred as we did. Power did not simmer for them in the same way.
It was likely rocking his foundation, combined with…that glow.
I thought of the last chosen who had failed. Then, I thought of the woman still prowling the living world, containing unnatural mights. And finally, I thought of the girl, and the radiance she’d emitted that seemed so different.
First, at her induction, as she swore my vow. Then, again just now, as she reached out to me.
I could not place what it was.
“Sir…” My wings slackened at my back, their light sweeping the scene like a fallen tale. I wished his name would roll off my tongue as it once had.
Bant’s blood dripped from his hands, angelic and almighty, but dulled. It lacked what he had stupidly sacrificed centuries ago, playing rashly with fate.
“The star warrior,” our master said, words melodious.
Despite Gaveny’s and my elation, the energy in the chamber dimmed. We had been blind in here for so long, the Angelglass cleaving gaps in our information, but fallen tales of legends still spiraled across the realms.
“We will watch her,” Valyrie swore, Xenique and Ptholenix on either side of her as they’d always been, the three sharing a history rife with secrets.
“Good. Fate cannot bend again.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ophelia
“I thought I might find you out here.” Ezalia’s voice wrapped around the terrace off the room she’d given me in her home, lacing the dawn air with a peace that opposed my warring thoughts.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Because when I’m feeling overwhelmed by the pressure we’re under as leaders, I find the silence, too.”
We were leaving her manor this morning after receiving Barrett’s note last night, heading toward the Bodymelder capital, Pthole, and Firebird’s Field north of it.
But I hadn’t slept. Restless worry combined with the deepening pain in my arm kept me up. I’d readied the horses and packed my belongings while my friends stole what last minutes of sleep they could—all but Tol, who had been with me. Now he was finalizing the route with Cypherion.
“It’s beautiful out here,” I said, leaning against the east-facing railing. Sunlight bounced off the ocean far in the distance, white caps glistening.
Even as I said it, a bolt of pain lashed through my scar. A reminder that the world may be serene, but I was not meant to enjoy it. I was meant for a curse, a sacrifice for a queen’s immortality.
Ezalia folded her hands on the ledge, breathing in the fresh air and stillness. Closing my eyes, I mimicked her. Let the stone beneath my palms ground me and the subtle roar of waves lull my thoughts. Tendrils of sentient power curled against my scar, but I focused on the earth’s magic.
“It is okay if this is overwhelming, Ophelia.”
My spine straightened. Was it? There were so many lives dependent on my own and so many questions I did not have answers to, yet.
“Sometimes…” I took a breath. “I worry if I let myself become overwhelmed, I would be giving up. I would not be able to keep going once the tidal wave crashed over me.” As I admitted it, a bit of the tension in my shoulders melted.
“There is a difference between being overwhelmed and giving up,” Ezalia said, turning to face me. Her words echoed through my head, caught in the back of my throat like they were a truth I had not known I’d needed. “Even those of us who are not facing half of what you are feel it. Every warrior who has ever led a clan doubted themselves or wanted to succumb to the pressure. It is necessary to feel all of those fears, but once the wave crashes and you’re submerged in the darkest depths of yourself, that is where you will find the strength to keep going. Do not run from it.”
