Aelion Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Aelion knelt beside the book and tried to read it. The blue letters glowed and shifted under his hand. He knew old tongues. He did not know this one. Without the words, he could not guard her from whatever the pillar had called. Lyra knelt with him in the vine-choked courtyard, her fingers hovering over the cover. She opened it. Light burst upward in a slow spiral. A woman formed from the swirl, tall, crowned in moonlight, her gown made of moving stars. Aelion drew his blade halfway and stopped. The figure's eyes settled on Lyra first, then on him. She was not kind. She was not cruel. She was older than kindness. She spoke in the ancient tongue. The sound shook the stones. Aelion caught only the shape of it. Lyra heard all of it. Magic poured into her again, white in her eyes, white along her arms. She did not flinch this time. She listened. The goddess spoke of a tether between them that no blade could cut, of lives they had already lived, of a war coming that needed both of them and neither of them alone. Lyra turned to him, still glowing, still herself. "I have been waiting for you," she said. "My whole life. Waiting for you to see me. I missed you before I knew your name." Aelion's careful walls cracked all at once. He reached for her hand and held it. The goddess spoke one last time. The demons would not fall by his sword, or by her song. They would fall by the child born of them both. The light folded back into the book. The courtyard went quiet. Lyra's eyes cleared. Aelion still could not read a single page, but he understood the verdict now, and it was heavier than any language. He had wanted her heart. He had been given a destiny instead, and it asked far more than he had ever prepared to give.