The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2) (37 page)

Tears surfaced on Jovian’s eyes too, and together they wept for family lost, time they would never take back, and partly for the naivety they had blindly left behind. Life as an adult was much more complicated than it was to play as a kid.

Maeven rubbed their backs consolably to help ease their grief. Finally he hugged them both to him, and held them while they cried. “It will be okay,” he comforted them as their tears faded. “Nothing can last forever, and some growing up has to be done for better things to come. I am so proud of you both and how far you have come. I will stay with you in whatever you do. If it is the Barrier Mountains you want to see in winter, Angie, then it is the Barrier Mountains we will see this winter.”

She looked at Maeven and leaned up then, kissing him lightly on the cheek. There was so much she wanted to say to the young man then, but didn’t. Instead she looked at Jovian and nodded her understanding, and her acceptance of a situation they had thought her blind to. Gripping both of their hands, she looked out at the Mirror of the Moon and the fear and uncertainty that she had been feeling since they met the fairies came back.

“How are we to defeat her?” Angelica vocalized the very question Jovian had been asking himself since they had first met Porillon. “She is a sorceress, Goddess knows how old, and obviously adept. What’s more, if she is the Mask the prophecy speaks of, how are we, the two people that have no idea what in the Otherworld we are, supposed to overcome her?”

“Throw caution to the wind?” Jovian asked and they smiled.

“Yes, ‘cause that worked out so well the last time you did that,” she commented.

“I have an idea,” Maeven said. “If you can’t beat her, don’t look for her. Don’t come up against her. Seek out Amber and then leave with her.”

“What if we stumble up against Porillon? That won’t work; there is no way for us to know what room Amber is in and what room Porillon is in. Besides, most likely she can feel us,” Jovian said.

“This is true,” Maeven conceded. “But there is something you are missing: the two of you can also sense wyrd, so use that ability to divine if she is in a room or not.”

“That sounds painfully like throwing caution to the wind,” Angelica said.

Jovian sighed. “Either way, standing out here is not going to bring our sisters any closer to home.”

Reluctantly they all nodded, still unsure how three largely untrained youths and a fairy buzzing around their heads were supposed to defeat the Mask. But they didn’t realize that the fairy buzzing around their heads would have nothing to do with their struggles within. After all discussion had died, the fairy broke the news.

“This is where I leave you, daughter of the Hairy Woman,” Tegaris reported, fluttering down to land on her proffered palm. “The hate and malcontent of what dwells within is more than I can stand; it would surely extinguish my light if I were to stay,” he informed them. His form radiated with the light of the moon, reflecting its light just as the Lunimara did.

“Thank you, Tegaris Lightdancer. You have been a most prolific guide,” Angelica said, and before she could say anything further  he raced up through the night, shimmering softly before fading among the clouds to appear like the a star in the velvety night sky.

They stared up at the night sky for several minutes. Now that they were where they had ventured all this time to be, they suddenly wished they were anywhere but here.

 “Alright then,” Jovian said, and squeezing Angelica’s hand he resolutely he pushed open the iron gate and stepped into the temple yard. There was a sense of purpose to his step, as if with each step he was falling into place with something grander than himself, a wyrd that had been written before his birth. No, that was not right; the feeling Jovian got told him he was stepping into wyrd that had been written, not before his birth, but
because
of his birth.

He felt with certainty that he was not meant to be, or at least he was not meant to exist in the state he was. He was supposed to be other than Jovian LaFaye, but what other he was supposed to be was not fully clear.

New wyrd had to be formed for Angelica and Jovian, wyrd that could be written into the future of the Great Realms.

Their very existence changed the world. With thoughts like that walking into a battle previously thought unbeatable, Jovian and Angelica could not help but feel as though they had the upper hand. They had already changed so much if their very births had changed the Great Realms.

Before long they were standing before the grand double doors of rich mahogany inlaid with silver twining, like tree branches all wrapped together, creating a web of sorts. They tried to trace the lines with their eyes to find a beginning and an end, but they could not, for there was neither beginning nor end to this puzzle. They soon realized that this was not just random decorations on the doors.

What they were looking at was a locking system so advanced that it used both wyrd and architecture to sustain it. The silver was fashioned so that it interlocked, hinging the door together in the center, yet wyrd held it that way.

“Very interesting,” Maeven commented nearing the door to observe it, and as he neared the silver twined closer together, tightening its embrace over the center like ropes pulled tight by unseen hands. Maeven’s eyebrows furrowed in thought even as he toyed with his lips pondering how to get through.

Angelica and Jovian did not stop walking to look at the locks on the door, and instead walked on. Something inside of them was telling them that the door recognized them and would part for their blood, and that it did.

As they strode closer the lock parted like branches pulling away from one another in some strange wind, and the doors whisked open with a startling grace yet eerie, silence.

A
humming in the earth woke Joya to the Otherworld she had endured the last cluster of days. She could not remember exactly how long she had been here, though tid-bits of conversations held in her presence alerted her to the location she now found herself in. Joya knew that she was where they had all wanted to be: the Mirror of the Moon.

Her whole face throbbed, and she moaned slightly, as she tried to look around the overgrown garden clogged with countless bushes of innumerable flowers. Clusters of dark green bushes lined the walls and red cedar chipped walk-ways of the garden.

Though the tangled rose vines on the walls were still the same, there was something else, something strange that was happening within the autumn withered garden. It looked as if spring had suddenly come to the garden, because the leaves on a lilac bush to her right began to bud, and rapidly. As if watching the bush come to life in fast motion lilacs started to bloom on the bush.

In moments the bush glowed a soft silver color, and deep inside the tree Joya could vaguely make out the form of a woman. The woman looked strikingly like herself, except she had a stronger jaw and a more stern face. Joya watched through her swollen eyes, the woman neared her, and the silver light that surrounded the figure was almost too bright to look upon.

“Joya,” the figure said. “Joya, there is something about to happen here that will change many things. You must be prepared to act, for if you hesitate you will lose them all.” Joya looked around, and with difficulty due to her bound hands and feet, she sat up. She swallowed hard a few times and looked to the woman now kneeling beside her.

“You are not real,” Joya protested even as she looked around for the Verax-Acis. She couldn’t find him, but that didn’t mean he was not weaving lies before her very eyes. Many times she had not seen him as he rummaged around in her brain with a feeling like hundreds of bugs crawling within her skull.

The muscles of Joya’s face twitched uncontrollably, her painfully swollen right eye fluttering rapidly with a will of its own. She knew that the muscles of her face would no longer obey her command at all times. Because of the touch of the Verax-Acis she was damaged, forever. The touch of the beast had been long and often, withering her mind into a dementia that would last the entirety of her life, which now that her Elemental Trials were complete would be a very long time indeed.

“The twitching in your face and limbs will fade, but never completely go away. It is likely in time that it will only happen in times of emotional distress,” the woman beside her said as she stroked back Joya’s long black hair, now matted and lumped with dirt from the long days of misuse and torture.

“Get away from me; you are not her,” Joya said through cracked lips.

“But I am, and I will prove it to you,” the woman said placing her hands to either side of Joya’s face. Instantly the twitching stopped, though the dementia lasted. There was also a feeling of love and calm that flooded her and a feeling. The feeling was monumental, but not something she could place her finger on. It was both like and unlike that of the voice of wisdom, but where she had felt that his presence was wrong, here she felt the presence could not be anything other than right, anything other than the woman she claimed to be.

“What must I do?” Joya whispered, suddenly believing without a doubt the identity this woman claimed as her own.

“You will know when the time comes. For now, take this,” the woman said, and she held out her hand. Within the palm lay an orb the size of a marble, glowing like a small sun. Because Joya’s hands were still bound behind her she could not reach for the orb, so instead the raven-haired angel before her reached out, the light held on the tips of her fingers, and touched the crown of Joya’s head. Upon touching her flesh the orb dissipated and was absorbed by her own wyrd.

Deep inside of her Joya could feel warmth and knowledge accompanied by a feeling of safety. She looked up into the smiling face of the woman. “It is not much, but it is all I can spare with my vessel lying so close to danger’s reach.” Then the woman began to fade, and Joya yearned to reach for her.

“Aunt Pharoh, wait …” And then Joya felt it. The humming in the earth she had previously thought to be from the visage of her aunt was not that at all. The Mirror of the Moon hummed with a different power, a different wyrd, one that was as powerful yet as opposite of the malignant one that had gripped it from the moment she woke to find herself here.

Angelica and Jovian caused that humming, and Joya knew that this night she would be rescued.

I
t wasn’t until they had breached the door and claimed entry to the Mirror of the Moon that things changed for the worse. The door may have recognized their blood and let them pass, but it might not have been in their best interest that the door had done so. For once inside the door thundered shut, and the silver twines could be heard rustling back together, locking them within.

As soon as the door shut they were all repelled by some force. Angelica and Jovian ended up a few feet down the left glowing corridor, Maeven down the right. Instantly they all stood and scanned their surroundings.

Nothing seemed out of place. The onyx floor beneath them glowed with a light kin to the one the outside walls radiated, and the floor-to-ceiling windows let in scant light through their stained glory. Window seats were placed against the windows facing to the outside of the temple, while all the windows on the inner walls looked out onto a grand garden.

The temple was really a series of four corridors that branched off into separate rooms all surrounding a central garden hosting plants from all over the Great Realms of which lilac bushes and plumb trees were in no short supply. The garden did not belie the disrepair of the temple, however, and most of the windows were covered with creeping rose bushes.