heard the histories.”
Smiling, I nod my agreement. I’m still confused and don’t believe that I’m a goddess, but I am excited to hear more about my heritage. I’m also hyperaware of Vaeril’s hand in mine, but because we’re very much on display here, I’ll need to make sure we’re on our best behaviour.
“Welcome all, thank you for joining us this evening,” Speaker Hawthorn calls, and while his voice isn’t loud, somehow, it travels around us, surrounding us. “This is a very special meet, as many of you will already know, Clarissa has returned to us.” Pride and happiness practically shine out from him as he looks over at me. Murmurings around the platform fill the night air as many sets of eyes fall on me. Just as I’m starting to get uncomfortable, he turns away and addresses the group again. “Tonight, we will tell the histories of the gods and goddesses.”
One of the other speakers stands and joins Hawthorn, speaking in elvish, and I realise he’s translating. They must only be speaking in Arhavien for my benefit. Murmurs fill the air again along with happy, excited chattering, and I get the impression that this is a favourite tale.
Clearing his throat, he smiles as he looks over the gathered crowd. “Back when the land was first created, it was ruled and governed by seven very powerful beings that had willed it into existence,” he begins, and I lean forward out of interest. I’ve never heard this story of the continent’s creation before, and certainly not that there had ever been more than one god. In Arhaven we believe only in the existence of the Great Mother, and I wonder how she fits into this. “It was a land rich with nature, and for a time, it was peaceful, but the gods grew bored, so they created life.” The speaker’s voice has taken on a lilting quality that fully draws you into the story, and I can see why they chose him to tell the histories.
“The humans came first, created to care for the land, but the gods were greedy and always wanting more. They began to meddle in the lives of the humans, making them more aware and giving them the capacity to want more also. This caused the humans to begin fighting amongst themselves, so the fae were created to bring balance,” the speaker continues, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I always thought the fae had been on the continent far longer than the humans, I had no idea it was the other way around.
Vaeril shifts his weight and leans towards me, his mouth close to the side of my face, his breath tickling the sensitive curve of my ear. “The fae were created in all shapes and sizes, living off the magic of the earth. Elves like to think we are superior to the other fae creatures, but ultimately, we are all related,” he elucidates, and I nod to show I’ve heard him.
“The elves evolved from this. They had the best aspects of the humans, but with added speed, longevity, strength, and the magic of the land,” Speaker Hawthorn carries on. “The gods were made up of four brothers, and three sisters—Holume, Macca, Jos, Nathius, Tia, Sabine, and the youngest, Menishea.”
I glance at Vaeril at the mention of their goddess. He’s smiling, like he can feel my gaze, but he continues to look at the speaker. Beyond him, I see Naril leaning forward, totally absorbed by the story.
“One of the sisters, Tia, was cunning, and had fallen for the humans. When the humans and elves inevitably started fighting, she felt the elves had an unfair advantage and wanted to do something to even the playing field.” The speaker pauses, and I see the looks shared by some of the watching elves. Although they know what’s coming, they’re still listening with rapt attention. “The youngest goddess was kind and wanted the fighting to stop. She was convinced by her older sister to help give the humans a chance. With the desire to help, she, along with her sister Tia, sacrificed a large part of her power to the humans, and so the mages were born.”
“The eldest god, Holume, was furious. He favoured the elves and hated seeing them being slaughtered by the magicians and their new magic. Feeling betrayed, he and his four other siblings turned on the youngest goddess and her sister. The cunning sister was killed, but they spared Menishea, as they knew she held only