Diamond in the Rough - Vivienne Savage Page 0,29

painfully with each powerful wing stroke sweeping them into the atmosphere away from the villagers and the volcano. Blinded by soot, he pushed higher until the cold was biting and the flames of the wraith had all but died away. No flame could burn at such a high altitude.

And a dragon could not breathe. Fighting against blood loss and the elements, Xavier blacked out and plummeted back to the earth still clutching the crumbling, blackened husk. No spell nor assault from him could harm the wraith of vengeance.

The elements did it for him.

11

To Sacrifice in Love

Mind-numbing agony seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Rosalia had read many books and couldn’t help but remember an astronomy tome she’d once read in a wealthy noble’s library that said stars were celestial bodies like their planet—but made of energy and magic.

Rosalia now knew what it was like to be a combusting star. Thousands of particles collided and fused. Skin peeled from bone that splintered and cracked, blood evaporated in a wave of heat. One moment she was in pain, the next was beautiful euphoria. The sensations overlapped and split as her world dissolved and reformed. She was everywhere and she was nowhere, no longer present at the temple altar, but aware that Xavier had called her name.

His presence was there.

Don’t panic.

The pain ended, and she opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by a sea of red heat. When she opened her mouth to take in a deep, ragged breath, liquid poured down her throat, yet it didn’t drown her. It enriched and improved, and it soothed.

Moments passed before she realized she’d been transported from the temple to the magma itself, her body drifting weightless within it like a child in the womb.

Before she could even begin to process that discovery, the waves of bubbling orange arose and swept her from the comforting embrace onto dry land. She touched down on her bare feet harmlessly. She wore nothing, but she was not naked. Ribbons of molten rock served as a garment and all that remained of her modesty as she took in a landscape of smoldering ruin beneath a sky painted violet dusk.

The wave of magma arose once more from the pool and poured onto the ground beside her into a vaguely masculine shape. Broad shoulders, legs, and powerful arms emerged from superheated liquid rock, and tides of lava rolled with a vengeance, splashing against the edge of the pit before receding, leaving only a regal figure.

“Moritan,” Rosa gasped, gaping at the deity. Wonder stole away any other words she might have said and froze her on the spot. Despite the wonder of the moment, she couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion in his features and the pervasive sense of wrong.

He’s weakening. It weakened him to bring me here to his realm.

“I have waited for you.” A distant rumble shook the ground as he spoke, and the lava bubbled vigorously behind him, settling only when he crouched and ran his fingers over the ground in a soothing stroke, as if by touch alone, he’d calmed a volcano.

“We don’t have long, Rosalia.”

Time alone had not weakened him. Whether it was the toll of restraining the volcano, or the betrayal that bound the gods, it would only worsen with time.

She wanted to say many things, and needed to ask too many others. “Tell me what to do,” she said instead, unsurprised that the god knew of her mission. Nothing could surprise her any longer. She’d spoken to gods, tumbled off mountain cliffs, and she’d swum a stream of magma into another world.

He smiled. She found it utterly fascinating that a face composed of rock and lava could convey amusement.

“Yes… You will do. I have seen your heart and deemed you worthy,” he spoke softer, as if scared to startle the volcano once more. Lava still rolled beside them like waves in an ocean, but it was gentler now, an almost-sentient force brushing and lapping against Moritan’s ankles.

“I did nothing special.”

“On the contrary. You have sacrificed, and you have suffered. You endured obstacles few others could overcome and crossed the desert to find me. Yet your work is not done, and you must accomplish so much more. You must cleanse the stones.”

“Cleanse them?”

“Yes.”

“But how?”

Another tremor vibrated beneath Rosalia’s feet, and fleeting pain passed over Moritan’s stony features. She wished the gods weren’t so cryptic when delivering desperate instructions.

“The Rod of New Life is not the only way to free us… There is another way.”

“Tell me.