Resurrection (Book Three of the Soul Forge series)

“Varro!” Elda awoke with a start, her lungs aching for breath. There were hands on her shoulders in the dawn light, shaking her gently from her nightmare. “You’re safe,” Vel soothed.

“I need air,” she gasped, flinging the thin blanket back and dashing outside. She leaned over and retched into a pile of rubble, her empty stomach heaving. A gloved hand swept her hair back, a second stroking slow circles between her shoulder blades. When it finally stopped, she straightened up and exhaled heavily.

The snow had settled on the ground with the fires successfully dampened by the dragons, the chill air clearing the fog of sleep from her brain and calming her traitorous stomach. They roosted on the remaining rooftops and along the city walls. Cain had curled up dutifully by the king and queen, his mother now wrapped around him to share the body heat. She watched them silently, making no move to approach.

“What horror did you relive this time?” Vel asked Elda quietly, looking over at his former nirehni with something bordering on despair.

“I watched you die. I watched my parents die. My home burned.”

“The worst nightmares are always the ones that actually happened,” he sighed. “They get stuck. I still see things that happened centuries ago.” When Elda didn’t answer, he slipped his hands into his pockets and blew out a breath, watching it mist in the freezing morning air. “Today is the funeral.”

“I know.” She pressed her palms to her face for a moment. “I have no tears left. I’ve cried so much that I just can’t anymore.”

“You will.” He flashed a faint, tired smile and moved off to start clearing the last of the rubble and bodies left around the plinths. His injuries were still bothering him, his limp visible in every step.

After that horrible, horrible nightmare of his undead form tearing chunks out of her home, Elda was overjoyed that he was finally alive, awake and unbound. His power was an endless well surrounding him, undampened by the shackles Aeon had placed on him his entire life. She could taste it on her tongue - a strange metallic flavour that appeared every time he came near. But his regeneration refused to work, still repairing whatever internal damage had been left behind from his death.

And despite his freedom, despite the knowledge that nobody blamed him for what Cynthia did, guilt stooped his shoulders as he hobbled on a still-broken ankle. She was beginning to wonder if he was refusing to heal it as a punishment.

While she hauled bits of broken rock towards the piles, she watched him studiously lay the fallen alongside one another in rows at the far edge of the cleared space, treating each one of them with the care and respect they deserved.

With the rise of the sun, the dragons swooped down to help. It took far less time to find all the bodies and clear enough of the rubble to leave a safe path away from the city. Still, the sun was high in the air by the time the last body was located.

A small child was laid beside his mother, identifiable only because they each wore a matching bracelet on their emaciated wrists. Both of them wore clothing that had been reduced to muddy rags, the skin of their feet worn through to the bone from miles and miles of walking. The remnants of their ruined shoes still clung to their ankles.

Elda didn’t have any tears left to cry, looking at that tiny little figure with a single bluebell stem laid on his chest. But she knew if she ran away, if she hid from her duty, his body would become one of many, many more. Still, it terrified her.

The king and queen each had another single bluebell placed in their clasped hands. The soldiers began to gather around the edges of the courtyard, looking to her for guidance when all seemed lost. The Soul Forge came to stand beside her, Cain and Ember landing behind the makeshift plinths.

“I’m with you,” he murmured softly, and she heard both Vel and Sypher in those three simple words.

As are we, nirehni. Cain’s affirmation was mournful, but he held his head high. He was a young dragon, but Elda was still so awed by his strength and beauty. She took a moment to meet his gaze, then passed it across the crowd that had amassed in the cleared space that used to be reserved for Eden’s biggest festivals. Now it was a graveyard, filled with the displaced souls trapped in the horde, and the fallen who fought to save the rest of Valerus from their grinding jaws. All of those living waited for her to speak.

“My people,” Elda called, her voice carrying on the wind. Silence answered, every eye on her. “I always believed home was defined by the walls I lived in and the material things I had. I thought a kingdom was a palace, with a throne and a land to rule over. I was wrong.” She squared her shoulders and raised her chin like her mother would, feeling the truth of her words deep in her soul.

“A kingdom is defined by the people who belong to it. We stand in the ruins of our home, faced with the loss of our loved ones. We breathe in the ash and the smoke of what remains of the lives we knew. But we are here. We are here, each and every one of us. We are Eden, and our comrades live because we live. Their memory will survive within us no matter what happens to the brick and mortar we once lived in.

“I swear to all of you that I will rebuild, or I will find us a new home. Our kingdom is hurting, but we are not dead. The names of those we have lost today must be cherished, and one day they will be carved in stone, immortalised and remembered for generations.

“But for now, our work carries on. We must take what we can salvage and leave for somewhere safer. Every able-bodied man and woman must take up arms to defend those unable to defend themselves as we travel. We will lose no-one else.”

A murmur fluttered through the crowd, and Captain Reiner stepped forwards after a moment of silence followed the noise. Her armour was battle scarred, her face crusted with dried blood that she hadn’t taken the time to wash away, but her back was straight and her voice was clear.

“My soldiers and I will continue to defend the people,” she promised, balancing her mace over her shoulder, “but will I be doing it in the name of King Hrothgar, or in the name of his legacy? Are you our Queen, Elda Gild?”

Elda swallowed and studied the crowd, all of them staring back at her expectantly. After the shock of losing her home and her parents, it was too much. Her heart thundered in her chest, blood rushing in her ears. Her stomach heaved uncomfortably, her vision beginning to tunnel.

“Varro.” Vel. His hand on her arm was grounding - an anchor in the tempest of her thoughts. “You won’t be ruling alone. I’m here.” She looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. He cupped her cheek gently. “You are the strongest of us.”

She watched him carefully pull back the cloak covering her mother’s face and remove the crown nestled in her hair. He gently replaced the covering and saluted her, then carried the crown to Elda and held it out.

“You will never be alone,” he promised.

Elda took a deep breath and bowed her head, allowing him to place the crown in her blonde hair. It felt heavy on her head, reminding her of the true weight of her position. She turned and surveyed the crowd again.

“Every action you take from here onwards will be in the name of Eden,” she said, raising her voice again. “In honour of our fallen King and Queen, in honour of those we love, those taken from us far too soon. I accept the crown in place of King Hrothgar Marrol Gild and take my place as the rightful ruler.”

“In honour of the fallen monarchs,” Captain Reiner echoed, and the remains of Eden’s army copied her. “May the Spirits bless the new Queen of Eden.” Again, the crowd copied her. “And what of the Prince?”

“You’re being asked to take my father’s crown,” Elda told Vel softly. “Do you accept?”

“I’m not leaving you up here alone, even if it means becoming a King,” the Soul Forge replied. Elda nodded and copied his earlier actions, removing the crown from her father and gently replacing the blanket despite the overwhelming tightness in her chest. When her husband bent his head, she paused.

“Under what name do you claim the crown?” she asked. “Vel, or Sypher?”

“Both,” he replied. “Sypher Veloran Gild.”

“Veloran?”

“My full name,” Vel replied reluctantly. “Not spoken aloud since Cynthia stole it over four-hundred-and-seventy years ago.”

“Why?”

“A demon’s power is in its name,” he shrugged. “It’s how Cynthia controlled her beasts.”

“And you’re okay with the world knowing it now?”

“It belongs to me again, along with the power it holds. Nobody can take what's mine without the Compulsion. If I’m going to be king, I might as well do it properly.”

Elda nodded and raised her voice. “Before the people of Eden, I elevate the Prince to the status of King. Sypher Veloran Gild, do you accept your role in place of Queen Meridia Aurelie Gild?”

“I accept,” he replied, allowing her to place the crown on his head.

“May the Spirits bless the new King of Eden,” the crowd echoed without prompting from the Captain this time.

“Now is the time for mourning the lost,” Elda continued. “We will commend their souls to the After with the Burning, and then we move. Please, if there is anything you wish your comrades and loved ones to have in the After, gift it now.”

Several people moved forwards with small items in their hands, kneeling beside the bodies and weeping openly. Elda bent and pressed a kiss to the foreheads of both her parents, unable to leave them anything to take to the After with them.

Her heart felt hollow, every beat an ache that ricocheted through her entire frame. Her eyes fell on the body of a young soldier, barely an adult. A man she guessed must be his father knelt beside him, sobbing into his child’s chest. The sight broke off another piece of Elda’s battered heart and turned it to ash.

A gasp from someone in the crowd sparked several growls from the dragons, and Elda whirled, dagger already in her hand, to find the one creature she hated most standing atop the rubble of the city and smiling at his handiwork. Vel’s snarl was vicious, the shadows rising around him.

Elda had never seen the Spirit’s physical form, but every fibre of her being knew it was him. Aeon had finally made himself known.

Curving horns sprouted from his head, bulging arms folded across his bare chest in a casual manner. His body shimmered, the ruin behind him just barely visible through his skin. He was simply projecting an image of himself so that he could gloat.

“How sad,” Aeon drawled. “This is what happens when you betray the Spirit that allowed you to live. This ritual is wasted on these people. There is no After for dead blasphemers, no matter how hard you pray for it.”

“Betray?” Elda echoed, rage filling the hollow space left behind by the loss of her parents. “You think we betrayed you? These people were innocent!” she roared. “Children have died, Aeon! Their corpses were traipsed across the continent, and for what?! Tell me how they betrayed you!”

“The famous Elda Gild,” he replied, unimpressed by the dagger she pointed up at him. “A message needed sending. You all exist because of me. You serve me. Anyone loyal to my brother and his lies will be dealt with.”

“But they don’t exist because of you!” Hephaestus bellowed, stepping out of a vortex of black and gold to stand beside his brother. Irileth, Cerilla, Artheria and Aurora flanked him. “I created this world. Your job was to balance it, not rule it. You have failed all of them, brother. You deceived me and stripped me apart, then used my power to seat yourself at the top of a hierarchy that should never have existed. You killed innocents out of nothing more than greed.”

“And you live a half-life, brother. What you think of me doesn’t matter,” he sniffed, smirking. “You’re too weak to do anything about it. People follow strength, something you are decidedly lacking.” Aeon turned away from Hephaestus like he wasn’t there and surveyed the soldiers of Eden. “All of you have a choice to make. Swear to return to my following, worship me as your Creator and things will work out well for you. Or you can join your loved ones in the Void. I will burn every blasphemer and heretic alive myself just to make sure you get there.”

Not one of the soldiers moved to obey him.

“You can threaten us,” Elda snarled. “You can promise to burn us and strip away our rights to the After, but I promise you this in return.” She climbed the steep slope with ease, standing to lay the tip of the dagger at his chest, right where his heart would be if he were really there. “When you and I meet face to face I will end you. This war will finish with your blood on my blade and your heart in my hand.”

“Foolish girl,” he chuckled, but the fire in her eyes made him tense.

“Mark my words, Aeon the First,” Elda warned. “If I burn, so shall you.”

oO END Oo

A/N: Gosh that was a RIDE. Thank you once again to each and every one of you that has made it this far in the series. It means the world to me. Book four will be on its way in a few weeks, titled Ascension, and will be the final instalment in the series. In the meantime, I’m going to be focussing on getting book one ready for publishing! I hope you all enjoyed book three!