Sorcerer's Shadow - Chapter 51: The Nerve of Her

Thaleia started, “My Lord, we are—”

“Yes, I know. I can’t assist you. The only way out is the one you’re familiar with. Any purple robe can guide you back there. I’m sorry.”

He genuinely appeared to be remorseful, but his gaze remained fixed on Thaleia.

Annoyance flashed across Thaleia’s face as her nostrils flared. “Very well, then,” she said, and we left Verill behind.

Locating a purple robe in that place was as easy as finding a Baku in the market. Indeed, the purple-robed figure was willing to lead us back to the gods. She effortlessly navigated us through the expansive passage. It crossed my mind to simply reverse our course and exit the way we’d entered. I kept this thought to myself, sensing it wouldn’t work.

We passed through the gateway once again, our purple-robed guide bidding us farewell. We found ourselves in front of Nyxara’s throne, the Demon Goddess. She was grinning.

The nerve of her.

* * * *

I could have completed the bulk of my preparations without ever leaving my apartment, and I was seriously considering it. However, growing apprehensions about this Norsanti affair drove me to cross-verify the information on the fact sheets.

Let’s keep a long, tedious story brief – everything matched up, but I felt more at ease verifying it myself. His Imperial-appointed protection consisted of three skilled Dragonlords who never left his side. They didn’t spot me shadowing them, but their presence made me uneasy. Eventually, I sent Opal to tail him while I scrutinized the data for any weaknesses.

The issue was that the bodyguards were from the House of the Dragon. Otherwise, I could likely have bribed them to step aside at the critical moment. I began to wonder if the Dragons had other exploitable vulnerabilities.

Let’s suppose for a moment they did. Could I pinpoint an optimal place for the assassination? Certainly. There was a woman in the western part of Avandryl, beyond the river, whom he visited frequently.

If there’s an ideal time and location to catch someone off guard, it’s during a visit to their secret lover’s residence. Opal surveyed the area for me, and it was just what we needed – hardly populated during the early morning when he left her house, yet surrounded by numerous structures providing good cover. Alright, if I planned to strike there, what should be my strategy? Impersonate the coachman who picked him up? That would involve either bribing the coachman, thus making him aware of the assassination, or eliminating or incapacitating him, which wasn’t appealing.

There had to be a better approach.

And, indeed, I found one.

* * * *

Nyxara greeted us once more, her eyes dancing over each of us. “Welcome again, mortals. And a special greeting to you, Thaleia. You may leave this realm, and the Terran may accompany you, on the condition he never steps foot in here again. However, Lord Drevolan must remain.”

“No,” Thaleia immediately interjected, “He returns with us.”

Nyxara merely grinned, undeterred.

“So, elaborate for me,” Thaleia demanded, “Why does he have to stay here?”

“Because of the nature of this realm. The living cannot return. But perhaps he could become undead, and leave that way. It’s been done before. You know of Alyssra Volade, don’t you?”

“That’s not acceptable,” Thaleia shot back.

Nyxara only smiled in response, saying nothing.

“Leave it be, Thaleia,” Drevolan urged.

But Thaleia’s features were hardened, her resolve clear. “It’s nonsense. If it was simply the nature of this place, Viktor wouldn’t have been able to leave either. Don’t tell me it’s because he’s a Terran—you and I both know there’s no difference between a Terran’s soul and an Imperion’s.”

What about the prohibition on Terrans entering the Paths of the Dead, I wondered? But this wasn’t the moment to raise that question.

Thaleia pressed on, “I shouldn’t have been able to leave either. Didn’t Empress Marya manage it? And what about you? I know what it means to be a Lord of Afterlife, and you’re not so special that you’re immune to these effects. You’re lying.”

The smile vanished from Nyxara’s face and her multi-jointed hands made a bizarre, inhuman gesture that sent shivers down my spine. I expected Thaleia to be obliterated right then, but Nyxara merely retorted, “I owe you no explanation, little Dragon.”

“Yes, you do,” Thaleia argued, making Nyxara’s complexion change. I couldn’t help but wonder what had passed between them.

Nyxara flashed a small smile and conceded, “Perhaps I do owe you an explanation. You misunderstand the nature of being a god. Terrans hold gods in awe, denying our humanity. Imperions believe godhood is a skill, similar to magic, and nothing more. Both views are incorrect. Godhood combines several skills and natural forces, transforming every aspect of one’s personality. I was never human, but even if I had been, I wouldn’t be now. I am a god, my blood the blood of a god. That’s why the Halls of Afterlife can’t contain me.

“Marya managed to leave because the Imperial Orb has power even here. Though we could have stopped her, and nearly did. It’s significant to allow the living to leave this place, even the few capable.

“Your Terran friend could never have come here without a living body. The soul doesn’t matter, but it’s more complex than that. It’s about the blood. As a living man, he could bring himself here, and as a living man, he can leave.” She suddenly turned to me, “Once. Don’t come back, Venorium.” I tried not to betray my trembling.

Nyxara continued, “And for you, Thaleia…” Her voice faded into a smile.

Thaleia blushed, looking down, “I see.”

“Yes, I faced some difficulty persuading some to let you leave. If you weren’t the heir to the throne, you and your companion would have been required to stay. Are you satisfied?”

Thaleia nodded, her gaze averted.

“And what about me, boss?”

Oh no. I hadn’t considered that. Summoning my courage, I asked, “Goddess, may I know—”

“Your familiar shares your destiny, naturally.”

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

“Thanks, boss. That makes me feel better.”

“Does it?”