Page 126 of Revealing Fate

The scar upon the earth was still there, still brimming with that strange presence. But somehow, another image overlaid the reality—one which they both saw.

A house sat atop the rip in the earth.

No. A home.

The structure was unlike anything Felíne had ever seen. It was modest in size, smaller even than Kal’s cabin. But where Kal’s home had been fashioned of wood and stone, piece by meticulous piece, this dwelling had been constructed of what looked to be one solid piece of gleaming marble.

A gorgeous archway led into an open interior, the decorative carvings depicting two twin moons flanking a glorious sun. Expansive apertures stood open on all sides, their sheer ivory curtains swaying gently on a phantom wind. The amount of detail chiseled into the walls, roof, and foundation was staggering.

Felíne wandered around the periphery and saw sculptures of the sky, stars, and distant planets. She spied breathtaking landscapes: soaring mountain ranges, raging rivers, a roiling sea, broad valleys, sweeping deserts, far-reaching forests, and a glacial tundra. Animals, a variety of species unlike she’d ever known, were frozen mid-leap, swim, or flight. And there, amidst all the other creations, the shurii stood immortalized in stunning crystalline limestone.

“Impossible,” Kal breathed, reaching a hand toward one entry column. His fingers passed through the image, the building existing outside of their reality. “This was no shurii-made dwelling.”

“Then who?” Felíne asked, though she knew the answer.

Kal looked at her, his thoughts mirroring hers. “The gods.”

“How?” She trailed her fingers through the image, distorting it as they drifted through. “The godscripts say the gods departed this world hundreds of years ago. No one knows what manner of realm they abide, nor what forms they possess. They aren’t here.”

Kal studied the mirage. “They were, though. The Goddess and Godking were once as physical as you or I. I think…I think this was their home.”

Felíne couldn’t deny that she felt it. Some lingering presence. A crushing sorrow. “What happened?”

“A mortal’s mistake. The Godking’s betrayal.” Kal seemed to peer through the illusion and into their tangible world. “This is where the Goddess cursed us. We are seeing what existed before. The destruction underneath? The scar? That is what remains.”

“But how?” The longer Felíne gazed upon the resplendence of what once stood here, the heavier her spirit grew. “Why can we see it? What…lingers?”

“A stain. We’re seeing some kind of spiritual echo. Whatever energy remains embedded at this site, we touched it. Activated it.” He rested a palm on the earth the way one might place a hand on someone’s chest to feel their heartbeat.

Magic. Energy. A spiritual manifestation. These things didn’t exist in the physical plane. Not like this. If Felíne gathered her mother’s priests and relayed an account of the day’s events, they’d proclaim her a blaspheming heretic and revoke her titles. Yet this was real. This spiritual force was undeniably present.

“I feel such sadness,” Felíne said, resisting the urge to hug herself. “Grief. And…anger. So much anger. I don’t think it’s my own.”

“I feel it, too,” Kal said. “But I feel…shame. Sorrow. Longing.”

“It’s them, isn’t it?” The Goddess. The Godking. “We are feeling what they felt.”

Kal nodded, expression grave. “I think so. Whatever remains of their essence is affecting us.”

He reached for her, and Felíne shied away from his touch. The hurt that flickered over his features sent a stab of regret through her. Why had she done that?

“I don’t want to be here, Kal.”

He swallowed. “Come on.”

Once they reached the base of the hill, Felíne felt more like herself. The crushing weight of a Goddess’s emotion had abated, her own resurfacing. “Does anyone else know about this place?”

“I’m not sure,” Kal replied, scrubbing his face as though to dissipate the memory of their strange encounter. “No one’s ever mentioned it, and the only person I’ve told is you.”

“Can we rest for a moment?” The heaviness of this revelation, the emotional damage projected onto her, left her sapped of strength and purpose.

They sat at the bottom of the stairway, both lost in contemplation. Kal handed her a waterskin, and Felíne drank deeply.

“I’d offer to refill it,” she said, eyeing the strange, up-flowing stream, “but there’s no telling what kind of magical abilities you’ll develop if you drink that water.”

He quirked a smile, a measure of the earlier odd tension fading. “Sure you don’t want to find out?”

She deadpanned.