From the Ashes

Chapter 43 ~ Astaroth's Angel

Morana kept one eye on Tarion as they entered Durga's How, but let herself take in the sight around her. The interior of the foothill had been completely covered in stone, from the floor to the ceiling.

Raised tombs, each inscribed with a name, stood in rows across the floor and in between pillars. Sconces and candelabras lit the expanse, though who kept them burning was unknown. Perhaps they were simply spelled to remain lit.

In the center of the structure was a large altar with effigies of Durga carved into its sides and two solitary tombs on a dais before it. Tarion's steps slowed as they drew closer to the altar, so Morana let go of his hand and continued forward herself.

Morana mounted the three steps of the dais until she stood in between the tombs and gazed down at the figures sculpted upon them. They perfectly resembled the people in the portrait from the palace, only with their eyes closed as if they were asleep.

To her left was the Queen. Tissaia had been sculpted with slender hands clasped upon her chest and an ornate diadem of leaves and vines across her brow. Her name was carved above her head along with the phrase, "Born with a spirit of flames that not even death could diminish."

The King's tomb was on the right. His hands lay in the same position as his wife's and a regal crown was upon his head, but within his grasp lay an actual sword. It was as beautiful as Noxbane, but in opposite ways.

The hilt was made of delicately woven threads of gold and a small diamond-shaped ruby was inlaid in the crossguard. The blade itself almost appeared white, but reflected gold in the light of the sconces burning around them.

Morana glanced back at Tarion. He still stood where she'd left him, staring at the tombs with glazed eyes. She had said she understood his feelings about being here, and for the most part, she did. Yet he stood there with so much sorrow and pain, while she'd been filled with rage back in her own village.

The difference could be that of a son grieving his parents, while she was no true relation to Koen and Vesna, and yet, she'd loved them all the same. No, the difference was that Tarion had been utterly broken by the events that took place here.

While she could understand his pain, she would never be able to comprehend the true depth of it and everything he had suffered. Things she didn't even know yet. What had been done to him to break someone so strong so completely?

Morana said nothing, just offered him her hand. Tarion remained rooted in place for several long moments, then at last, let her guide him up the stairs. His gaze went straight to the phrase chiseled beneath his father's name.

"The mountains trembled at his death, for the loss of a king so great."

"It's true," he rasped. "The whole earth shuddered the moment Gaelen's sword pierced his heart, as if when he died, some part of our world went with him."

She could see the thoughts spinning through his mind as plainly as if he'd spoken them. "He would be proud of how far you've come," Morana said. "And the day you become king, he will be even prouder still."

"You don't know my father."

"No, but with what you've told me about them, I know they would both be proud of you. You are not a failure, Tarion. You've made mistakes that any mortal being is capable of making, and every day since, you've been trying to right them. Not many would try as hard as you."

"You've proven to me more and more that you are the King Asterria needs. You are the one who can lead us out of the pit Astaroth has buried us in. You will make us great and whole once more. I may be the one who can defeat him, but I am not the one who can rebuild our people."