Page 127 of Threaded
She’d wondered a few weeks ago if it would snow in Verith or if the coastal winds would prevent the rains from freezing. It had always snowed in the winters in Andburgh; not as much as it did farther north, but enough for the ground to sometimes look like it was dusted with powdered sugar or the thick trees like they were lightly sprinkled with twinkling starlight.
That weather must’ve followed her all the way to the coast. Ryenne had told her earlier that day this sort of snowfall was unprecedented, especially in the early winter before the Winter Solstice. Despite the looming Attlehon Mountains, the cold never ventured far into the city itself.
Mariah tried not to think about whether it was some omen foretelling a winter colder than she’d ever known in her lifetime.
Of course, Ryenne hadn’t stopped with her small talk of the weather.
Mariah looked down at her hands where they pressed, palms down, into the smooth mahogany of the library table as she ran the Queen’s words through her mind for the thousandth time.
“I’m sure it is obvious to you, but … I am no longer in any condition to rule a kingdom. Most days, I can barely get myself out of bed. The people … they cannot see me like this. And I know you are not yet ready to be crowned, and there is still so much left I wish I could teach you, but I fear the burden of leadership must now fall to you.” Her sad smile had been weak and soulless, emptiness and despair pooling in her ocean blue stare.
“You are queen now, in every way that counts. And with the Solstice fast approaching, it is now your responsibility to lead it.” Ryenne had stood, then turned, floating from the room like a wraith.
“I am sorry,” were her last words before she’d quietly slipped out, leaning heavily on Kalen for support.
Mariah’s heart broke for the queen. Ryenne had certainly made decisions Mariah wouldn’t—couldn’t—understand, and probably never would, but she was the only living person who understood what it felt like to bear the magic of a Goddess. Even if Mariah now knew her magic came with an added layer, an unaccounted source, the same golden threads weaving through her veins had once been a stream flowing through Ryenne’s.
But there were … unintended benefits to Ryenne’s concession of power to Mariah. Specifically, how it related to the Winter Solstice.
Mariah suddenly found herself faced with the very real possibility that one of the promises she’d made to Ciana after thePorofiratwould be coming true far sooner than any of them had anticipated.
“Fucking Enfaradamnthis. Why did these queens all have to have absolutelyterriblehandwriting? I swear on the Goddess that I’m going to go blind.”
Speaking of Ciana…
“It isn’t so bad,” chimed in Delaynie’s soft, bell-like voice. “Look, this one has a drawing of thelunestairpillars in the throne room!”
“Yeah, but what good is a picture if you can’t read the words beneath it? We already knew those pillars storedallume; that isn’t new—”
Mariah groaned, cutting off Ciana’s tirade. “Please, for the love of everything the Goddess touches, can we stop complaining about these journals? Yes, they’re terrible, but they’re literally all we have.”
Ciana grumbled but dropped her gaze back towards the worn leather book open in front her. The three of them—Mariah, Ciana, and Delaynie—had sequestered themselves into the library, raiding the deepest stacks, venturing as far into the dark tunnels beneath the mountains as they dared in search of as many journals, diaries, notes,anythingthat looked to have some connection to the past queens or priestesses. Mariah wasn’t too fond of searching sources from the latter, but even she knew that at some point, there had to have been at leastonedecent acolyte of Qhohena. She was a pessimist, but she wasn’t a cynic.
They were, admittedly, a bit desperate. Her time spent learning from Ryenne had taught her that theallumecollected on the Solstice had dropped off dramatically in recent years; that much they knew, by Ryenne’s own admission. What they didn’t know was why—why the current ritual wasn’t working, why theallumewasn’t being harvested, why the Solstice had lost so much of its luster.
And so, there they’d been for nearly three hours, pouring over ancient manuscripts and handwritten journals that, as Ciana had correctly pointed out, were all written in a nearly unintelligible script, some of the words in ancient Onitan and others in languages Mariah couldn’t even begin to speculate on.
That’s what the passage of time gets you, she supposed. Lost languages and the knowledge they might’ve carried.
Mariah rubbed at her eyes, desperate to relieve the pressure building behind them as the hours had passed.
“Mariah?” She cracked a lid back open at the sound of her name, meeting Delaynie’s blue gaze. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” she assured her friend. “Just … tired. And Ciana is right. But I have no idea where else we should be looking,” Mariah paused, closing her eyes again. “Or what we’re even lookingfor.”
She reopened her gaze in time to see Ciana and Delaynie shoot confused glances at each other. “Aren’t we looking for any mentions of the Solstice?”
“I mean, of course, that’s what we’re reading these journals for,” Mariah said, her voice flat with exasperation. “But what we’rereallylooking for is how the Solstice used to be. If there is anything that has been forgotten over time regarding the ritual and how we generateallumeto fill the pillars. And truthfully … I’m not even sure that kind of informationexists.” She met her friends’ stares, understanding beginning to creep into their expressions. “What if thereisn’tmore? What if the ritual we currently do truly is the way it was always done? What if … what if theallumesystem was always destined to fail?”
“Enough.” Delaynie slammed her journal closed and stood from the table, her sudden bluntness shocking Mariah. The Lady’s normally soft expression had hardened, her blue eyes turning to ice chips as they bore into Mariah.
“So what if the information we’re looking for doesn’t exist? You have a feeling that there is more to the Solstice than what we have done in the past. That feeling is enough for me to search for answers.” Delaynie gestured around them at the journals and scrolls scattered around the table. “If these ancient scraps of paper won’t help us, and if there is nothing in your mother’s diary that’s helpful either, maybe we need to look at other sources.” That gaze pierced Mariah. “Starting withyou.”
Mariah blinked her surprise—both at the words, and the fact it was soft-spoken Delaynie who’d voiced them. “Me? Trust me, if I knew anything, I would’ve already shared it—”
Delaynie snorted—actuallysnorted.“No, I don’t care about what you know. I want to know what youfeel. What you’ve felt on the Solstice, in the past. You’ve carried Goddess magic in you from the day you were born, even if you hadn’t known it. Not only Qhohena’s power, but Zadione’s as well. We know thatallumecomes from the gods, that it’s constantly cycled through us and the earth before returning to its source in the gods’ realm. We know that twice a year, on the Solstice, the veil between our realm and the realm of the gods is at its most thin, and we know the magic in your veins allows you to open a window so all theallumethat has returned to the gods can be pulled back. It stands to reason, therefore, that on every Solstice you have feltmore. More connected, more awakened, more powerful. Those feelings—thoseinstincts—are also those of a goddess and could lead us to discovering how to strengthen theallumebrought back into the world.”
Mariah and Ciana’s mouths were both hanging open as Delaynie came to the end of her speech.