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It’s not the first time I’ve gotten straight forward answers instead of riddles or more questions. But this feels different.
I’m not processing the news; I’m keenly aware of this, though there’s nothing I can say aloud to make my mind catch up with my heart or the strangely ingrained knowledge I’ve suddenly been given.
It’s fucking weird.
So much has happened. And while I know without doubt how many days have rushed by since I have arrived here… It feels like I’ve been living on this island for more than mere weeks or even decades. This is a beginning of time sort of sensation. As if I’ve personally watched the rise and fall of a dozen empires, only their triumphs and failures have flashed before my eyes in days.
The speed at which Spiran is force-feeding me information is nauseating. But the patterns are all there. From the new arrivals to the regime and societal changes, the influx of elementals surfacing with the next generations to the ever-present wars.
It makes sense…until I get to that part where I’m a fucking goddess.
The word is leaden as it sits on my tongue, unable to tumble from my mouth. It sinks into my stomach like concrete weights, pinning me to my seat. And though it feels unreal, my chest isn’t heavy with anxiety or fear.
My mind is one big knot of contradictions because while I associate these feelings with pressing weight, it’s not totally unwelcome. It’s like the lead weights of my fishing pole, helping the purple monstrosity stay below the surface of the water to attract the curious fish.
That space between the sandy seabed and the rippling surface is where the purple monstrosity belongs. But this lure can’t achieve its purpose without assistance.
The ocean lures.
Sera’s confession sneaks into my consciousness, making me wonder if that’s a positive assessment or not. I fall in love with the ocean every day, it’s shifting tides and warm embrace ensnaring me all my life, for as far back as I can remember.
I’ve never felt more at home than when I’m in the water… But to control it? That’s a responsibility far greater than simply keeping my head above the surface or staying afloat.
“There you are,” Ecaeris murmurs from the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you, but this was the last place I expected to find you.”
“Isolde is refining my stitching ability,” I reply, though I haven’t been paying attention to the inseam of this skirt.
My hands move on autopilot, as if I’ve sewn hundreds of skirts.
“She’s been gone for hours, Ada,” he tells me. “Why are you still in here?”
“I’m thinking,” I hear myself answer.
His voice follows, but it sounds as if he’s underwater, muffled by the current. I can’t make myself pay attention to him right now. He’s talking to me, yes. About what? It doesn’t matter.
We’re going to war against Nesta, and here I sit, sewing a skirt I most definitely don’t need when I should be training to control my power. Realistically, I should freak out or cry… Something to show my unease at the situation. But I have none.
I’m not numb to the circumstances or the struggles that will come. It’s just… There’s this little inner voice screaming at me, telling me I’m a goddess now. I’ve got this crazy, scary power, and I understand things that I really shouldn’t have a clue about. The more I think through everything, the louder she gets until she drowns out the self doubt I would have once had over this imminent war.
And she’s right.
I don’t know how I know she’s right… But she is.
I’m a fucking goddess. And I’ll be queen of the Mongrels when Isolde steps down.
I can’t keep fighting the inevitable when there are bigger enemies looming in the shadows, waiting to catch us in a vulnerable position.
How does one settle into a role that she never expected to be in, though?
This is more than playing a part or wearing a fancy leadership hat without the responsibility, and it’s more than being a queen.
It’s an absolute mind fuck.
But in order to move forward, I have to accept this path. I chose it. And now, it’s who I am.
That doesn’t mean I have to change who I am. I’m still me at my core… Just a better version of myself.
Right?
