Chapter 190

We descended on Altunvek - the capital of Ilvarion - like an army of sugar-drunk toddlers.

Word had reached us that Nomin had given birth to a healthy baby girl named Altara, after her grandmother, and we were determined to bury the new parents beneath gifts, congratulations, and entirely too much attention.

Jackob had made it home just in time for the birth. Now he was all broad smiles and easy bravado, basking in the glow of his growing family.

Their house wasn't particularly large, so we took turns crowding inside to offer our congratulations.

The ferals hadn't come, but everyone else had. Even Elarion.

I was among the first to congratulate the happy couple. Afterward, I escaped outside with Tark.

It seemed obvious in retrospect, but I'd learned the hard way that older children could feel displaced when a newborn arrived. No matter how loved they were, suddenly everyone wanted to hold the baby.

Tark and I wrestled in the grass, built elaborate fortresses from sticks and stones, and fought imaginary monsters while I filled the air with bright illusions and increasingly ridiculous stories.

Eventually Jackob stepped outside. “I hear you've had quite the eventful few weeks, my friend.” His brilliant white teeth flashed as he grinned.

I laughed dryly and tossed Tark into the air. The toddler shrieked with delight.

“You could say that. But tell me - what business was so important that you'd risk missing your daughter's birth? That's not like you. It must've been important.”

“Ha.” The sound came out wrong. Not laughter. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “You heard about that, did you?” He rubbed the back of his neck. Nervous.

I raised an eyebrow. “I came looking for you. And I checked on Nomin. She seemed remarkably confident you'd be home in time.” I smiled, though it didn't quite reach my eyes. “I'm glad she was right.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” His gaze drifted toward the house.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Sure.” He nodded too quickly. “I mean - for me, yeah. Great. I'm a father again. My family's gotten bigger. There's more love than ever.” He swallowed. “It's... great.”

“Then why don't you sound great?”

The grin finally slipped. Jackob stared at the ground for several seconds. “Look, I've been meaning to tell you. Send word. Something. But with everything that's been going on...”

I lowered Tark back to the ground. “Tark, why don't you go find Grams? I hear she made some candy just for you.”

The toddler's eyes widened. “CANDY!” He bolted for the house.

I waited until he disappeared inside. “What's going on, Jackob?”

His shoulders sagged. “I was in Crownreach a week ago.”

I frowned. “And?”

“There was a riot.” His voice dropped. “A bad one. I think...” He swallowed. “I think it might be the start of a war. A real one. Civil war.”

I nodded slowly. “Oh. That's bad.” I studied him for a moment. “But that's not everything.”

“No.” His gaze drifted away. “Rumor is the queen's missing. The kingdom's trying to keep it quiet, but people are starting to notice. The nobles are pushing. Everyone's angry. Everyone's suspicious.”

“Also bad.” I folded my arms. “But Crownreach is in Arvellia. Why were you there?”

Jackob exhaled through his nose. “Because I got a letter.”

That caught me off guard. “A letter?”

“Someone dropped it off here. Never saw who.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Said I had a week to get to Crownreach.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “Why?”

“Said they'd be gone after that. Took me almost the whole week to get there.”

“Why didn't you come to me?”

“I thought you were still chasing those rumors in Caldris or Esmori.” He shrugged helplessly. “And honestly? I didn't want to miss it. It seemed important. Really important.”

He hesitated. “It was about the gods.” He exhaled deeply through his nose. “And Mirri.”

My brow furrowed. “What about Mirri?”

He shook his head. “They didn’t give me much. Just enough that I had to follow up. Personal enough that I couldn't ignore it.”

The answer only deepened the knot in my stomach. “So you went.”

“So I went.” He looked toward the house where laughter drifted through an open window. “Got to Crownreach. Met the contact at a tavern called the Queen's Cup. Got another note when I arrived. Told me to head to an alley behind the tavern.”

“What happened?”

“Not much.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Met a woman. Couldn't get a good look at her. It was dark. Hood up. Voice disguised.”

“Did she tell you who she worked for?”

“No.”

“Who sent her?”

“No.”

“Anything useful?”

“No.”

I sighed.

“She gave me something.” His eyes flicked to mine. “For you.” He reached inside his coat and withdrew a thick bundle of papers. Bound. Weathered. Handled often enough that the edges had softened.

I took them.

“She told me to give these to you after Altara was born.”

My eyes narrowed. “Specifically after Altara was born?”

He nodded. “They knew Nomin was having a girl. Knew her name.”

For a moment neither of us spoke.

I weighed the packet in my hands. “You read it?”

Jackob hesitated. Then he laughed nervously. “They never told me not to.”

I stared at him. His smile faded almost immediately.

“Is it bad?” I asked.

Jackob looked away. “You should read it.”

“That's not an answer.”

For the first time since he'd come outside, he looked genuinely unsettled. Not frightened - worried. The distinction somehow made it worse. “I don't know if any of it's true. But you should read it.” His gaze drifted toward the house again - toward Nomin, baby Altara, and the rest of my family gathered inside. Then he looked back at me.

“Maybe read it alone first.”

* * *

When we got home, I excused myself, retreated to my study, and finally opened the packet Jackob had given me.

I wasn't sure what I expected to find.

Whoever had put this together knew Jackob and I were friends. They knew Nomin was pregnant. They knew enough about Mirri to lure Jackob halfway across the continent. For whatever reason, they either couldn't - or wouldn't - approach me directly. And they had been very specific about one thing.

I wasn't supposed to see these papers until after Altara was born.

That bothered me.

I didn't know whether they knew we'd gone to Earth. The timing felt too convenient to dismiss outright. And if this somehow involved the gods...

I opened the packet.

Inside were dossiers. Dozens of them. Most were incomplete. Some contradicted themselves. But there was too much personal information for any of it to be guesswork.

Somehow, they had records from my life on Earth. Addresses. Employers. Jennifer. Emily. Observations from my childhood. Notes regarding my Association, Collation, and Swarm.

Things I didn't know. Things I wasn't sure anyone should know.

I flipped to another file.

Ashlara. Her parents. Her relationship with Chamberlin. Interactions with Hek. A meticulous breakdown of Brand's actions that led to Hek’s death. There were notes on Aurelion scattered throughout as well, though I couldn't yet tell why.

Another file.

Mirri. Then Morghinna. Then Grams. Firsthand observations spanning decades. Casual conversations. Personality profiles. Estimates of magical aptitude. Fragments of history preserved by strangers who had apparently been watching all along.

Again and again, the notes circled back to one name - James. Mirri's great-grandfather. Grams' father.

His file was thicker than most. And somehow said less. Pages upon pages of observations. Dates. Movements. Associations. Almost no conclusions.

Whatever James had been doing, he'd hidden it well. But one date appeared repeatedly - the day he disappeared.

I kept reading.

Pyraeth's file contained nearly two centuries of observations. There were records on Serah. And on her mother - Aurelyth. I'd never known her name. Serah had never spoken it. Now I knew why. Pyraeth had ordered her death.

I sat with that one for a while before moving on.

Elise's file was surprisingly thin. Her parents' names. References to Master Edevane. Early observations. Predictions regarding her magical potential.

Neither of her parents had been void-mages. Edevane took her as an apprentice when she was nine. After that, the trail largely vanished. A few scattered notes appeared whenever she traveled with him, but whoever compiled these records lost sight of her for long stretches of time.

The gods were different. Their files were shorter. Less certain. Whoever wrote them seemed confident discussing mortals. Gods were another matter entirely.

Aurelion. Solenna. Urzan-Brak. Drazhkul. Ornyth. Yveth.

The observations became more speculative. More cautious.

There was considerably more information on Miralis and Lunythera than the others.

The file suggested Miralis might be the oldest living god. Not merely older than the Silent War - older than the others.

I leaned back in my chair.

I knew she'd survived the war. I'd assumed most gods had. But a great many gods had died during those years, and the way these records described her, Miralis might have been one of the few who remembered the world before it.

That was difficult to comprehend. Recorded history stretched back roughly fifteen hundred years. Everything before that was fractured, fragmented, or gone entirely.

That was why it was called the Silent War. The war hadn't merely killed people. It had silenced the past. And Miralis might be one of the only beings alive who remembered what had been lost.

Lunythera's file repeatedly intersected James'. That wasn't entirely surprising. Grams had admitted they'd known one another. Hell, the only time I'd ever spoken to Lunythera privately, she'd admitted as much herself.

She remembered him. That alone told me he wasn't just another mortal passing through her life. But this went far beyond that. Dozens of meetings. Years of contact. Repeated interactions conducted in secret.

Conjecture filled the margins. No explanations. No answers. Just enough evidence to suggest there was far more going on than anyone realized.

Then I reached Nyssira.

That file surprised me more than any other. Relationships. Personality analyses. Defensive measures. Power estimates. Psychological profiles.

For the Goddess of Veiled Secrets, she had left behind an astonishing number of footprints. Which raised uncomfortable questions. Who in the hell had been watching her? And what in the hell had Nyssira been doing?

Had she already been fracturing before everything fell apart? Had she spent centuries pushing against her Faith? By all rights, she should have become a ghost long ago. Before Brand. Before any of it. Hell, I'd never even heard her name until the world started ending.

Yet somehow she'd been everywhere.

She turned Brand against the High Witan. She sent him after me. She wasn't a member of the High Witan, but she'd worked alongside Lunythera and Urzan-Brak. She wasn't a God-King either, yet she'd collaborated with Pyraeth and Zelmyra. Everywhere I looked, there she was.

Hidden behind events. Hidden behind people. Hidden behind other gods. Like a spider whose web only became visible once the morning dew settled on it.

I kept reading. And reading. And reading.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, my eyes burned, my head ached, and I still wasn't finished.

* * *

The next day, I buried myself in chores.

I milked goats, fed chickens, gathered eggs, checked on the meat brining in the springhouse, fed the fire in the smokehouse, and fixed a handful of things around the house that had needed fixing for weeks.

I visited Nyssira and had another thoroughly unproductive conversation. I played with Briva and Morian. Started teaching Tib how to play the harmonica. Mostly, I tried to make things feel normal again.

Mirri found me shortly after lunch. “There’s a monster in the demesne,” she said.

I looked up from the fence post I'd been repairing. “A monster?” That was new.

I'd brought a pack of wargs into the demesne once. Originally it had been to protect Reedwatch and teach Vel a little compassion. They'd all died during the Second Silent War.

A couple of Myrddin had forced their way inside during the war as well, but my children had dealt with them.

But a monster? No. There had never been a monster.

As far as I knew, the only animals living in the demesne were stray dogs, moths, and bats. I still had no idea how any of them had gotten in there.

“Yeah,” Mirri said. “It hasn't gotten aggressive yet, but I moved the kids away just in case. Ashlara's keeping an eye on it.”

I nodded. “Let's go take a look.”

We stepped into the demesne.

The first thing I heard was the caw of a crow. I stopped.

A single black crow sat among the branches overhead, watching us.

“Where did that come from?” I asked.

Mirri followed my gaze. “Dunno. Saw another one earlier.”

I looked at her.

She looked back. “You think they're related?”

“You ever see a crow in here before?”

Her brow furrowed. “No.”

“Me either.”

That bothered me as much as the monster.

“Let's go find this monster,” I told her.

The demesne made that easy. Space folded strangely here. Distance behaved more like a suggestion than a rule. If you knew where you wanted to go, the demesne often took you there.

A single stride could carry you hundreds of yards. Sometimes you didn't even need that. More than once, someone had fallen asleep beneath a tree and woken up in bed. The demesne liked taking care of people.

A few moments later we found Ashlara. She stood at the edge of a copse, shield on one arm and axe resting against her shoulder.

She nodded as we approached. “It's in there. Might be eating. There's been a lot of snapping branches.”

“Alright.” I gave her a smile. “I'll go take a look.”

I moved slowly through the grass toward the trees. The wind whispered through the stalks around me.

Branches swayed. Something large shifted within the copse.

I heard wood crack. Leaves rustled. Heavy footsteps thudded against the earth.

Whatever was in there wasn't making the slightest effort to be quiet.

I pushed aside a curtain of leaves and finally got a clear look.

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or pick my jaw up off the ground.

The monster stood nearly ten feet tall. Gray skin hung in thick wrinkles across a body that had to weigh several tons. Tiny dark eyes regarded the world with complete indifference while two enormous ivory tusks curved from either side of its mouth.

It tore an entire branch free and began stripping leaves from it.

An elephant.

An actual elephant.

“Well aren't you pretty?” I stepped closer.

I'd never been this close to an elephant before. It could have gored me. Stomped me. Thrown me. Possibly all three. I think that’s how elephants attacked.

The only reason I wasn't particularly worried was because I wasn't mortal anymore. And because this was my demesne. Nothing had ever attacked me here. Or the children. Not unless it had forced its way inside.

And this guy wouldn’t have been able to force his way in. He must have made his way in the same way the dogs, bats, and moths did. However it was that they did.

The elephant glanced at me, then calmly went back to eating.

I approached with my hands spread in peace.

The giant animal barely seemed concerned.

When I finally rested a hand against its side, the skin felt like weathered leather stretched over warm stone. Sparse, wiry hairs brushed against my palm.

Its trunk lifted. Curious. It touched my face.

I laughed softly and scratched the rough skin.

The elephant leaned into me. Not enough to knock me over. Just enough to make its presence known.

“Yeah,” I said. “You're friendly.”

The trunk wrapped around my chest.

“Okay. It's good to see you too.”

The elephant rumbled softly.

“I should probably go tell my family you're harmless.”

I slipped free of the trunk and started back toward the edge of the trees.

The elephant immediately followed.

Together we emerged from the copse.

Ashlara immediately shifted her grip on her axe.

Mirri straightened.

Both looked prepared for trouble.

“He's harmless,” I called.

The elephant wrapped its trunk around me again.

I patted it absently.

“What is it?” Mirri asked.

“An elephant.”

She stared blankly.

“On Earth they usually live in hot grasslands.” I glanced at the enormous creature beside me. “They’re smart. Eat plants. Extremely social. Protective of their families.”

The elephant brushed my shoulder with its trunk.

“Supposedly they never forget anything.”

Mirri eyed the animal skeptically. “You sure?”

“No.” I scratched behind one enormous ear.

The trunk curled around my arm. And then around my waist.

I laughed. “Alright, big guy.” I gave his trunk another pat. “I'll come visit later.”