Etched deep into her skin was a crescent moon, pierced by a downward dagger, with sangre miel flowers blooming from its curve and twining up the blade. The lines were old—carved in the grim symmetry of a rite never meant for mercy.
A twisted mockery of the mark each goddess bestowed upon those they blessed. What should have been sacred had been carved into her with violence, the gift defaced into a scar.
It took up her entire back, commanding every inch of space.
My fingers hesitated, only for a second, before I resumed, working the delicate silk ties with quiet precision, the feel of her beneath me unsettling something in my chest.
I continued. “Many years ago, there was a war—though some call it a rebellion.”
She angled her head, voice soft. “A war?”
I nodded once, tightening the first loop of ribbon.
“The goddesses had ruled in balance once. Eryndis, the Veiled Keeper, was not the strongest, but she saw further than the others. She warned them their hunger for dominion would tear the realms apart. Where her sisters carved out territories and demanded worship, Eryndis whispered of unity.”
For a heartbeat, I wasn’t in this room. I smelled the ash of that first burning temple. Heard Lysara’s voice shouting orders over the crack of splitting stone.
“She believed the realms could be made whole again. That shadow and light, wild and crucible, could be bound back into balance, so they did not consume one another.”
I tightened another loop.
“She said it would not be done by war or crowns but through one who would rise. Someone who could fracture the walls we bled to build and restore what was broken. To restore balance and peace.”
Aurelia twisted to look over her shoulder. “And the others didn’t like that.”
“No.” My hands paused at the ribbon’s midpoint. “They called her naive. Disloyal. They accused her of hungering for power. And then…” my throat tightened “…they banished her.”
I let the words fall heavy between us, the fire popping once in answer.
“She never told us what form the change would take—only that the balance between realms could not hold forever. That one day, the borders would crack, the scales would tip, and someone would rise to set them right. Not a goddess, but a mortal touched by divinity. When that day came, we would know.”
“So we waited. We guarded her memory, her teachings. We called ourselves the Keepers… not just of this realm, but of her legacy.”
I turned slightly, catching her reflection in the glass. She leaned forward without realizing it, eyes fixed, her body still. Listening like every word might be a thread she could seize and pull.
“Before we called ourselves Keepers, we considered ourselves her patrons. Devoted to fairness and justice. But over time, the others—Kaerani, Sylvara, Nerissa—grew hungry for more.
“Jealous?” She murmured.
I gave a bleak smile. “Jealous—and afraid. They conspiredwith rulers of this realm, weaving new power through blood and influence. And as long as Eryndis stood watch, they couldn’t fully take hold.”
The mark on her back caught the firelight, and the shadows near the hearth shifted toward it
My voice dropped. “So they cast her out.” The words scraped raw. “The Keepers rose in her absence, holding to her teachings. We weren’t warriors then. We were peacekeepers. Guardians of balance.”
The memory flickered—children laughing as banners burned, a woman’s scream cut short. I drew a steadying breath.
“We believed no child should starve, no voice go unheard, no life weighed less than another’s. We were a community. Hope, justice, shelter. The kind of order that doesn’t need crowns to enforce it.”
Her hands had fallen in front of her, fingers moving as if unraveling an unseen knot.
“But the goddesses knew. Even without Eryndis, we could rise again. Could challenge them. So they turned on us. Hunted us. Cut us down until only a handful remained.”
My jaw feathered; I forced it still. “Then Kaelith’s father, Talon, arrived. He called it unification. But what he did was finish their work. Aligned himself with the goddesses, seized the city, and bound us to Nyxarra. He leashed to the very throne that tried to erase us.”
I cinched the final tie, breath steady now but the old ache throbbing behind it. “We didn’t hand the kingship over. They took it.”
A silence swelled—steam, firelight, and the sound of our breathing.