“I would have to disagree with that sentiment,” Lirian grumbled.
“I’m going to be the mature one and ignore that comment,” I said.
“You do realize,”—Lirian propped his back against the window—“that it’s not all that mature when you point out what you’re attempting to do.”
I rolled my eyes.Whatever.
Folding an arm over my stomach, I took a deep breath that did little to ease the tightness in my chest as I considered everything. A sense of dread built within me as my thoughts kept returning to one thing.
“You said it was the Arae’s duty to ensure the balance and see that the Ancients remained in the ground,” I said, picking up aloose strand of hair and twisting it instead of the sash. “But they woke. How?”
“I was wrong.” Lirian’s stare flickered over me as he shook his head dismissively. “Youhaven’tfigured it out yet.”
This time, I would beextramature and not point out that I planned to ignore that comment.
“The act of giving mortals free will,” Thorne spoke, “therefore allowing them to experience emotion, set off a startling chain of events that was both miraculous and terrible. No matter what anybody did, nobody could prevent what the Ancients dreamed.”
I stopped moving as dread slithered up my spine. I dropped the strand of hair and folded that arm around my waist.
Thorne’s eyes met mine, the colors now still. “They couldn’t preventyou.”
Unease exploded within me, every part of my being recoiling at what he said, causing me to take a step back.
“We saw you in our dreams.” Lirian watched me. “Dreams that became visions held by the last mortal oracle and as told by the goddess Penellaphe. Dreams that many saw as a warning of what was to come—the fact that balance could not be kept.”
Fingers digging into my sides, I continued backing up as if putting physical distance between us could somehow change things.
Make it so I wasn’t the cause of all the destruction and death beyond the Primal Veil.
“How?” I demanded hoarsely, looking between the two Arae. “How did I upend the balance?”
“You were born,” Lirian stated.
I gaped at him. “Wow.”
He lifted a shoulder, and I could only stare at him, unable to believe that aFatehad just shrugged at me.
“That’s not an easily answered question, as it has been in the making since the dawn of man.” Holland tilted his head. “Many tried to stop this from happening: Eythos. Seraphena and Nyktos. Primals whose names were lost to time. My brethren. The Unseen—”
“Alastir?” I gasped.
Holland nodded.
“My gods.” I spun away from him, my stomach twisting. I pressed my fingers against my mouth as bile rose. I feared there was a very good chance I might be sick.
“If it is any consolation,” he said. “Eloana’s part in Alastir’s actions was as she claimed. She did not understand the prophecy.”
“I don’t think that is any consolation,” Lirian commented.
A ragged laugh left me. Was it comforting to know? I guess. But…
I closed my eyes, my throat burning as sorrow seized my heart. “I caused all those people to die.”
“Yes,” Lirian said quietly. “Your birth stirred Kolis into consciousness, and awakening from your Ascension was the final trigger.”
I flinched.
“But it is not your fault,” Holland told me.
