The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

32. Blessed Children of The Oracle

Chapter thirty-two

Blessed Children of The Oracle

I n Elithiend, Prince Emmerich was all too aware of his societal position and the subsequent attention it brought. Yet a slither of unease still coiled in his gut as every pair of eyes in the temple fell on him. He stared down at the attire his escort had forced him in to, wondering why she had men’s clothes in her chambers at all. Clothes that from the looks of him certainly wouldn’t have fit the man that she currently claimed to be engaged to. Gabriel was at least a head shorter than Emmerich.

Princess Solveig was turning out to be as vicious and secretive as she was beautiful and utterly enthralling. Technically, she was his enemy, a descendant of murderers and usurpers, worshippers of a false god. Not to mention the long line of bodies she had piled up on her own. He couldn’t trust her. He knew that. She was a means to an end, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t glean some enjoyment out of the situation.

“Bless you, child of The Oracle,” an acolyte intoned, stopping Emmerich in his tracks. Their head bowed in silent prayer as they dipped a finger into the water and drew two overlapping circles upon his brow.

Emmerich coughed, shifting on his feet as he watched her. “Erm yeah, same to you,” he muttered before stalking away to find his murderous princess, leaving the acolyte to gawk after him. But he refused to be held responsible if the princess was going to withhold essential information on social customs.

He paused as he entered the worship hall, taking in the pristine white walls, row after row of pews, carved with a myriad of images depicting Torrelin’s history. But it was the stained-glass mural at the far end of the room that saw his fists clenching as his mood soured. The intricate image showed the Elysian Caldera mid-eruption. They celebrated this. He recalled learning of it through his youth, how the mainland cheered for the deaths of thousands, as though their sacrifice forged a path to a better world. It made his blood boil. Sick to his stomach, he forced his eyes away lest he attempt to launch one of the empty pews straight through its heart to shatter the illusion.

Slowly, he regained control of his anger, inhaling deeply as he took in the crowd milling about the space before finally spotting her. She sat at the front of the room, hair dark as night, covered in a lacy, pale blue veil. A quick glance around the stark space informed him that her betrothed was standing atop the dais. Emmerich approached her, hoping that the empty seat beside her was for him.

“I think I scandalised that poor acolyte practicing finger painting in the doorway,” he whispered as he slid into the pew beside her. “You could have warned me about protocols.”

“And why would I do that?” Solveig’s shoulders shook slightly with her laughter. “It’s much more entertaining to watch you squirm.”

“You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, what am I supposed to say when someone blesses me as a child of The Oracle?”

Solveig studied him and even through the gauzy lace material, he could see the amused smirk on her face. “Praise be The Oracle, and the balance hard fought. May we always be worthy of their court. Think you can remember that?”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” he muttered, slouching in his seat like a petulant child.

As the doors to the worship hall slammed shut behind the last visitor, Emmerich snapped to attention. He watched as the Temple Leader strode up onto the dais, dressed in pristine white and gold robes.

“Welcome, blessed children of The Oracle,” Leader Ezekiel declared, voice bright and clear as his son projected it around the room. Solveig elbowed Emmerich in the ribs, harder than was necessary, as the congregation recited the words in unison.

“Praise be The Oracle, and the balance hard fought. May we always be worthy of their court.” The words rang loud and clear as a grimace fell across Emmerich’s face.

“How many times are you lot going to say that today?” He shifted closer to her, all the while keeping his eyes on her betrothed, enjoying the irritation on his face as he glared in their direction. To where they sat so close, their thighs brushed.

“You’ll be a natural long before the ceremony is over, Prince. Better settle in. We’re going to be here for a while.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Emmerich muttered. Trying to ignore the zing of lightning firing from where the princess had only briefly touched his leg. He stared at her from the corner of his eyes, but she seemed oblivious to the sensation.

Leader Ezekiel stood before his ever-obedient congregation, a sea of pale blue. “Today we gather, to share in the joy of this month’s new elemental gifts. We give thanks to our Oracle, our saviour and protector of the balance.” Solveig winced as a phantom pain sliced through her skull at the mere memory of what they had forced her through in this building. A place where the power in the earth grew more focused and potent.

“You, okay?” Emmerich whispered, leaning closer to her, fathomless, ocean eyes drenched with concern.

“I’m fine,” Solveig shrugged, “pay attention.”

Emmerich’s narrow gaze hesitated on her for a second before sliding back to the leader atop the dais, but he made no attempt to move away from her.

“But first we remember those we lost this past month. Our blessed elementals stolen by the cruelty of the anti-magicist rabble.” Leader Ezekiel raised both hands to the ceiling as the congregation stood with heads bowed, right palms resting on their hearts. “Almighty Oracle. Wondrous and true. Bless those who lived in service of you as they walk the path beyond the veil. May they find the peace that was stolen from them within your loving embrace. We ask you to welcome into your realm, Her Grace Duchess Xanthe Enya Whitlock.” A candle lit on the altar behind Leader Ezekiel. “Carinex Wautin.” A second candle ignited. On and on until five candles danced behind the leader in memory of their fallen elementals. “We ask that you watch over them in the Netherworld as you blessed in them this one. Until we may greet them again, our stories at last united under the gaze of your unending glory.”

Silence reigned through the hall for a moment as Prince Emmerich remained seated in his pew surrounded by stoic worshipers. Holding his breath as tension seemed to grow thick in the air, not daring to move lest he draw attention to himself. Finally, Leader Ezekiel’s arms lowered, and the congregation sat in synch with him.

“In their memory, we march on. Never balking before those who would wish terror upon us. As such, one by one, our blessed children who came of age this month shall stand before the four pedestals of power. To reveal their affinities as either Hydromancer.” The cloth covering the first pedestal flew away with dramatic flair, to reveal a vessel of water. “Pyromancer.” Again, the cloth flew away to reveal a solitary lit candle. This time Emmerich had to stifle a laugh, as he spotted the slight wave of hand from the Temple Leader’s son. He was the one flinging the cloths around. On the other two pedestals stood, an empty glass teetering on the edge for the Aire Wenders, and a vine plant for the Earth Breakers.

“What? No Aether or Electromancer pedestals?” Emmerich hissed. Solveig’s head snapped toward him, as did many others.

“Hold your tongue, Prince, to even mention such magic within these walls is akin to blasphemy. Those, those…” She struggled for the right words as her hands fisted in her lap, knuckles turning white.

“People?” Emmerich supplied with a raised brow. Solveig glared at him through her veil.

“Those power-hungry manipulators are dead. All of them and we’re better off for it. There is no balance in one person holding all the powers, and only one other person being able to defeat them.” She turned back to the front, staring resolutely at Leader Ezekiel.

“Some would argue that it is balanced. Do you even know how their magic works?” Emmerich pressed, reaching for her still clenched hand.

“Balance, according to The Oracle’s teachings, is us all being of equal standing. One power, one life, in perfect harmony,” she snapped, pulling her hand away before he could touch her. “I don’t know how their power works, nor do I care to know. There hasn’t been an Aether nor Electromancer on these shores for centuries.”

“You’re judging something without holding all the facts.”

“I know The Oracle’s teachings, and that is enough. That is what matters.”

“Is that what you told yourself every time you slaughtered someone in that mine?” Solveig’s gaze slowly slid back to Emmerich’s. Body rigid as she seethed, “Watch your tongue. I won’t tell you again.”

“Anara Nexa of house Bonida,” Leader Ezekiel called, snapping them back to attention. A small girl made her way up the steps, hands shaking.

“Miss Bonida, please reveal your gift,” he pressed, taking the girl by the hand toward the first pedestal. Solveig’s eyes flicked to the right, where a woman, an older image of little Anara, watched intently. Her palms were together as she muttered a prayer.

Anara moved down the line, focusing on each pedestal. The water did not churn; the flame stayed trapped to the candle’s wick; and the glass didn’t move. Finally, she stood before the last pedestal, the vine plant. Anara closed her eyes. Focusing as she thrust out her hand once more.

One breath.

In and out.

Two breaths.

In and out.

Three brea… A vine shook, then slowly, one by one, they wrapped themselves around the pedestal, under the complete control of the girl standing before it. A gasp echoed through the hall before the congregation broke out into cheers. Anara’s mother cried as Leader Ezekiel led her daughter over to where the alchemist stood. They fit her with copper cuffs adorned with the sparkling green gems of the Earth Breakers. Blue elemental flame glowed as they sealed them. Every few years on the anniversary of their manifestation, they would be invited to have them adjusted as their bodies grew, but they would never be completely removed, even upon death.

Anara moved to the next station, where she signed her name upon the scroll that would enlist her with the Royal Guard. A second sob, this one infinitely more broken than the last, came from the right. Solveig’s gaze swung to the child’s mother once more, and she realised that the woman hadn’t been praying for her daughter to manifest. She had been praying that her daughter would be powerless. That she would be safe.

“It is my blessed honour to present, Anara Nexa of House Bonida,” Leader Ezekiel called. “Earth Breaker.”

“Praise be The Oracle, and the balance hard fought. May we always be worthy of their court.” The congregation sang again, only this time Solveig couldn’t bring herself to join in. Watching as little Anara scurried down the steps straight into her mother’s waiting arms. The woman held her daughter close, placing kisses atop her head as tears ran down her sunken cheeks. For Anara was no longer Mrs Bonida’s to care for. She was a ward of the royal family, a soldier in their army. She would commence training at the Guild of Earth Breakers that same evening.

Beside them sat a young boy, with the same rich black skin and tight curls as his mother and sister. He couldn’t be more than a year or two younger than Anara. What would happen when his time came? Would he manifest as she had, or would he be safe by his mother’s side? Powerless and forgotten, but safe.

The next child took the stage, a boy named Tern Ackman of House Genard. He stood before the pedestal of water and within seconds; he had it bending to his whim. Creating swirls and whorls and tiny creatures with it. A family of five cheered off to the left. Solveig recognised them all, the Genard’s were a family of Hydromancers. They hadn’t had another power manifest in decades.

Tern followed Leader Ezekiel to be fitted for a set of cuffs that would match the one’s adorning the princess’s wrists. He signed his name upon the scroll with a grin, standing tall and proud before the gathered congregation as Leader Ezekiel called,

“Tern Ackman of House Genard, Hydromancer,” a chorus of cheers sounded as the ever-faithful crowd echoed. “Praise be The Oracle and the balance hard fought. May we always be worthy of their court.”

“That’s it?” Emmerich hissed, eyes fixed on where the boy had strolled back to his family.

“What’s wrong now?” Solveig snapped, meeting his gaze, only to find horror lurking in the blue depths. His shoulders shaking with what she assumed was repressed anger.

“He controlled water, so he’s a Hydromancer for life?”

Solveig couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “That can’t be what you’re upset about. Everyone knows that the first power to manifest is the strongest. Of course he’s a Hydromancer for life.” Her gaze shot to where Tern and his family celebrated. “And by the looks of it, he’s proud to be one, too.”

“And what of Anara?” Emmerich fired back, gesturing to where her family still sat huddled together in silence with ashen faces and downcast eyes. “She and her family don’t appear to be proud.”

“We draft all elementals in Torrelin into the Royal Guard upon manifesting. Many find the prospect to be scary, though we’ve been living in peace for centuries and there is no need for them to be concerned. Unless your presence here is more sinister than you’re letting on?” Emmerich only levelled her with a glare in response.

“With magic becoming scarcer, my family wanted to ensure that their guard stayed strong should they ever need to be called upon.” Solveig whispered, trying to avoid any attention from those around them, hoping she sounded convincing. Yet the words were ash on her tongue. Lies.

“It’s no wonder you’ve a problem with anti-magicists.” He muttered.

“Meaning?”

“Who would want to be blessed with powers when all it ensures on these shores is conscription? Forced to live your life according to your element, with no say in the matter?”

“Why would anyone desire to abandon their gift?” Solveig asked, shocked at the mere idea. The prince eyed her solemnly, his mouth a grim line as he spoke. “Some people want a simple life Solveig, who are you to deny them that?”

“You would never understand. You haven’t lived here; haven’t seen the tough choices my family has had to make for the greater good.”

“The greater good, or their greater good?” Emmerich needled, his words picked efficiently at the wounds set deep within her. She refused to look at him as she fought to hide her hurt. She couldn’t allow him to see her as separate from her family, even though that was exactly what she was becoming.

When Emmerich finally realised that she wouldn’t respond, he turned in his seat, where they sat in stoic silence as the ceremony continued around them. Solveig only spoke when needed. Emmerich no longer even tried to appear as though he was joining in, sitting resolute as the minutes ticked by. One by one, each child took to the dais. Three failed to manifest, and Emmerich thought he saw relief in the eyes of their families.

Hours later, they had presented and anointed four new Hydromancers, five Earth Breakers and nine Aire Wenders. Only one showed an affinity for pyromancy. Though that wasn’t uncommon, most pyromancers had come from Estrellyn. They rarely saw their power these days, and most resided within the royal house.

“Renit Dawn of House Teria,” Leader Ezekiel called, but no one moved. No child appeared, and the longer time went on, an uneasy murmur rumbled through the congregation.

“Renit Dawn of House Teria!” he called again. Still, no one approached the dais, and Ezekiel shot a pointed glance at a guard by the door, who stood to attention and exited immediately.

“What’s going on?” Emmerich whispered.

“It would seem the Teria family has chosen to not bring their child forward.”

“And?”

“If they’re not dead or dying, the parents will go to Luxenal for a minimal sentence.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As the grave,” she hissed, eyes still facing forward.

“And the children?”

“If they manifest, they will live with their guild until they release their parents.”

“And what if they don’t?”

Solveig hesitated. “The orphanage,” she said in an emotionless voice. She knew now how cruel it was, but it was the law. The same law she had spent the last two years upholding at Luxenal through spilling blood. If she spoke against it now, her game would be over, her secret revealed far too soon.

“You’d see a family ripped apart over this?”

“It’s the law.” Solveig bit out as quietly as she could, hands fisting tight in her lap as her fingernails cut into her palms.

“Whose law,” Emmerich hedged, “Yours or The Oracles?”

“Leader Ezekiel’s. As the voice of The Oracle in Torrelin, it’s his duty to ensure that we worship The Oracle as they deserve to be. It isn’t new, everyone knows it and still they defied it. They’ve only themselves to blame.”

“You can’t honestly believe that horseshit,” he declared a little too loudly.

“I spent two years upholding the law at Luxenal. What do you think I believe?”

The doors swung open again, and the guard returned, dragging a girl behind him. Sweat drenched her skin, face pale, eyes full of unspeakable terror.

“Renit Dawn of House Teria?” Leader Ezekiel questioned.

“Y… yes,” the girl stammered.

“By The Oracles records, you came of age last week. It is required that you attend today’s ceremony. Follow me to the dais and we shall begin.”

The girl didn’t move, but with a small flick of the leader’s head, the guard hauled her up, planting her directly before the first pedestal. Except now when she cried, the vessel of water did too. It dripped first. Then ran down the edges, before overflowing and rushing so suddenly that the entire room was ankle-deep in water before the guards could wrestle the girl away.

The congregation sat stunned. Renit Teria wasn’t only a Hydromancer, she was a creator, she’d manifested early, and her parents had tried to hide it. Creators, those who could manifest their power from nothing, to create more of a finite substance, were becoming fewer. Most never developed beyond simple manipulation of an existing substance. Solveig knew this was more than a standard six-month sentence in the mine. Knowingly concealing a manifested child, one of creator level at that, carried a minimum of life imprisonment. It was likely that Renit Dawn of House Teria would never see her family again.

They dragged the girl from the dais to have her cuffs welded shut, but the tears never ceased. “Please no, what about my brothers? Where are my brothers?” she cried.

Solveig gasped. Her hand clutched Emmerich’s tightly. Even as the tingling spread through her skin and up her arm, she didn’t let go. Neither did he. He squeezed her hand back in silent comfort. Throat bobbing as he stared at their joined hands.