Page 41 of Secrets of Avalon
“You’re a dragon shifter with… extra dragons? Can they talk too?”
Kellan chuckles, his voice rich and deep and soothing, reminding me of how my dad would laugh. “They are guardians. They are a gift from the World Tree to the Drakonii. Not only can we change into physical dragons, but throughout our lifetimes we are blessed with guardians who protect us in this form. And yes, Rhistel and Nalaea can speak.”
I brush my fingers along Siva’s glistening green tail, smiling when it slithers further up my arm and disappears around the bottom.
Kellan continues, “Siva is now your guardian and as she ages, she will grow.”
“It’s really rather fascinating,” a familiar female voice calls from the tub in the center of the room. “The guardians pick a Drakonii and then they have families on them. Every single one of Kellan’s tattoos is another guardian.”
I glance at the tub, surprise tightening my chest. Nimue.
Kellan grabs my hand and stands to block most of my view, but I can still see the water-queen-siren-lady standing in my bathwater. Her violet eyes are bright and a smile plays at the corners of her lips.
"Do not fear your connection to Hawke, Melinda," she says, her voice a silken caress that seems to fill the room. "Your bond with the Fae prince is fated, written in the stars long before either of you drew breath."
I stare at her, my mouth dry and my pulse pounding in my ears. Part of me wants to run, to hide from the intensity of her gaze and the weight of her words. But another part, the part that yearns for Hawke with every fiber of my being, hangs on her every word.
“You can’t know that for sure, Nimue,” Kellan bites out. “Soul magick has been broken for centuries.”
Soul magick? I give Kellan a curious look before turning back to the Siren. “I’m cursed. You don’t understand. It doesn’t matter what you say. I can’t be with Hawke. It’s dangerous.”
“You’re in Avalon now. Everything is different here. Hawke will die without you." And with those haunting words, she climbs out of the tub and takes a seat on the stool next to it.
“Wait. What?” My mind is reeling and my heart is racing. Her words echo in my head over and over. “Die without me? That can’t be true, he’ll–” I can’t say it aloud.
But I think it.
He’ll die because of me. Eventually.
CHAPTER 18
Kneel Before The High Council
Hawke Stormblood
I step into the cavernous chamber first, ahead of the other Knights. The weight of the High Council's gaze presses down on me like a physical force. The room is dimly lit, the flickering torches casting ominous shadows on the stone walls. The air is thick with tension, the silence broken only by the rustle of robes and the occasional clink of metal.
The council members sit on a raised semi-circle-shaped dais in large throne-like chairs, their faces etched with a mix of disdain and anticipation. They remind me of vultures, perched high above, ready to swoop down and feast on our carcasses at the first sign of weakness.
I take my place at the center of our line, my movements deliberate and controlled. My brothers in arms fall in on either side of me with synchronized precision. As I plant my feet firmly on the cold, unforgiving stone floor, a surge of resentment courses through me, tightening my muscles. I straighten my back, shoulders squared, and lift my chin in a show of defiance, even as the weight of this forced allegiance bears down on me.
To my left, Ares stands with his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. Every muscle in his body is taut, like a coiled spring ready to snap. His rage radiates from him, palpable and fierce and flowing around us like living angry magick.
Next to Ares, Wraith's dark face is an unreadable mask, but I can sense the coiled energy beneath his skin, like a predator waiting to strike. His stillness is deceptive; a storm brewing just beneath the surface, held in check by sheer force of will.
On my right, Fenrir and Boaz complete our line. Fenrir's stance is proud, his head held high, eyes narrowing in defiance. He meets the council's scrutiny head-on. Boaz stands tall beside him, his presence a fortress of unwavering resolve. Together, we form an unbroken wall of determination, refusing to break, even as we are forced to kneel.
Julius Darkwood sits directly ahead of me, his cold gaze boring into mine. I meet his stare unflinchingly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me worry about what he thinks. The other council members flank him on both sides: Damien Larkspur, Edwyrd Icedale, Elion Silvermoon, Lucas Torvaris, Arun Fenvara, Ivar Ryen, Leif Haarstad, Stavros Barakos, Kostas Antheas, Athtar Ravensdoor, and Garrick Lightblade. Two Fae, two Eleven, two Drakonii, two Asgardians, two Olympians and two Upir, each representing their respective worlds. Representatives from each of the worlds that participate in the Changing of the Guard.
Their presence here–demanding this fealty–is a bitter reminder of the power they've stolen, the authority they've claimed for themselves. These twelve men, who appointed themselves the guardians of the eight worlds, have usurped the rightful place of the Knights. We have been reduced to mere puppets, dancing on strings pulled by the council's whims.
The injustice of it all burns in my veins, a simmering rage that threatens to boil over. I clench my fists, feeling the bite of my nails against my palms. The urge to lash out, to shatter the smug expressions on their faces, is almost overwhelming.
But I know I cannot act on it. Not now, when the fate of so much hangs in the balance. The council may have the upper hand for the moment, but I swear to myself that it will not always be so. One day, we will reclaim what is rightfully ours.
Until then, I must play their game. I must bow my head and bend my knee, all the while plotting and planning for the day when the Knights will rise again. The day when we will cast off the shackles of the council's oppression and take our rightful place as the guardians of the realms once again.
So I stand tall, my shoulders squared and my head held high. I will not let them see the cracks in my armor, the wounds that their betrayal has left on my soul. I will endure, as I always have, for the sake of my brothers, for the sake of the worlds we are sworn to protect.