say! There was more I needed to tell him—”
I have seen your burdens, Little One. Alone as you think you are, we have watched, and we have known. Tonight was the gods’ gift to you; a kindness, for all the burdens you have been born to face. You were given what those who grieve often seek—one final moment. Why waste that moment with words?
“So you conjured a vision of him to lure me here?”
It was no vision. Your father’s spirit lives within you, Little One. All I did was give it shape, if only for a short time.
I want to cry. I want to brandish my dagger once more and drive it into the beast again and again until the godwoken gives Father back to me. But it’s right. I wouldn’t have changed a single second of seeing Father tonight; it just wasn’t long enough. It could never be long enough.
But it was something.
It was a chance to see that Father is not surrounded by the dead. That he’s not reaching out, begging me to save him.
Father is still having his adventures; only now they’re among the stars.
“Which godwoken are you?” I ask, finding my trembling voice.
The serpent appears to consider this for a moment. Well, I’m not the one guarding the sanctity of the heavens, nor am I the one who guards the wrath of the tides. Perhaps I guard the wrath of the flames? Or perhaps it’s the innocence of humans I protect? I am one of those.
My eyes sink to Rukan, thinking of the Lusca, and the snake hisses again with distaste.
That beast you killed was no guardian. If it had been, you would not be standing here before me today. Now tell me, Little One, why have you come here? I have seen you in my head for years, but I do not know what it is that you seek in this moment. This is no place for your kind.
The serpent’s right. Already my chest is getting tighter and my breaths shallower. As a thin haze forms over my vision, I suspect the only thing keeping me standing amid these fumes and smoke is the beast’s magic. If it wanted, it could let me die on the smoke at any moment. But this close, there’s no way I’m giving up without trying. “I’m here to borrow the magic of the gods.”
The serpent slithers closer so that the glossy scales of its body brush against mine. I try to reach out to them, or to grab for my blade so that I may cut one off, but the overwhelming power of its body keeps me knocked back.
What do you wish to do with such power? There is a fork in your path; which road is it that you plan to take?
“As queen of this kingdom, I’ll do whatever I’d like with it. My answer shouldn’t matter to you.”
I am favored by the gods. What use have I for the construct of queens? Though it doesn’t physically laugh, its voice rings in my head with dark amusement.
Construct? I bristle, though the serpent couldn’t care any less. It presses against me, body coiling around mine.
I have watched you little ones since the dawn of time, and every queen and king I have ever known has cared more for themselves than any other. You were given a gift tonight, and still you are greedy, wanting more. But ah, I see you know that already, don’t you? I see you imagine how thriving the world and its magic might be if not for your greed. You imagine what a different world this place could be. There are many possibilities; I find myself curious what the world will look like, as well. Perhaps one day I will know.
“Not everything the Montaras have done has been bad.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. It’s like the serpent is echoing my own inner thoughts, and it feels futile to debate a deity. But I push myself from its coiled grasp and spin to face it all the same. “There’s been at least some good.”
But which outweighs the other, I wonder? The wrongs, or the rights? Because all I see when I think of that answer is the possibilities. I see the “what could have beens” for this world, but never the “what will be.” The new magics that could have been discovered by now, but not the ones that will be. I see the changes your kingdom could make, but know not which changes