Page 58 of Born of Starlight
I reached for the dagger in my boot, in a house ofworshipof all places. I met the silver stare of what I assumed to be a Divine. His skin was dark, a contrast to the gray hairs that framed his face at the temples.
His kind eyes showed amusement. “You are safe here, High Enchantress. Welcome to the House of Astros.”
So he knew who I was.I shivered to think of how.
He lifted a finger to a darkened stained glass window. I could make out the picture of a man holding up the sun. “Did you know that the Source Origin Asterie was thought to be Astros’ sister?”
I shook my head.“I haven’t heard that one,”I answered.“But I’ve heard of this place. It is an old myth. It was said to be where the Source Origin of the Sun lived.”
The Divine chuckled. “So you believe the place where you stand now is a myth?”
My formality was exhausted. “That wouldn’t be possible,” I blurted. “This place would have stood before the Old World. And that assumes the Source Originseverwalked the lands.”
“So you believe they did not?”
Was he going to keep answering my questions with questions?That wasmystrategy. He seemed to sense my hesitation and smiled warmly as he approached the sunstone.
“For the millennia the Sun has granted me, this building has stood,” he said with unnerving calm.
For an immortal to age at all past their thirtieth year, they had to beold,and he looked to be in his late fifties, healthy and mobile. Thousands of years old.
He took my silence as a reason to carry on. “Before Henosis or the Corridors, before Brennax or Phynx, this was a land growing into its magic. The Sources once walked the lands, embodying the sun, the stars, the sea, the soil and more. They were called the Origins.”
My brow creased.
He cleared his throat. “The Source Origins’ magic was tethered to the elements. They were beautiful and vibrant. But they were also wild and feral folk, lawless and fickle. They toyed with mortals for fun and gifted their powers only to the noblest and most loyal of them.
“But the Source Origins could only give so much magic before they could no longer hold a human form. So, rarely did this gift fall onto humans. To be disembodied, pushed into a placein between—that frightened them.”
My eyes widened. This was not what I was taught, what the Sisterhood preached. The Sisterhood acknowledged the Sources only as vast pools of power, not at all sentient as the Divine described. But I found myself drawing closer to him, awaiting more stories woven from his beliefs. He held a hand to me and led me to a series of etched stone drawings on the walls.
“What do these tell the story of?”
Each of the drawings grew more morbid and gruesome than the last.
“The Reverists were another set of magic-wielders, a different bloodline. Their magic was not drawn from external elements but from the mind itself. They were mortal only in lifespan, and they are the originators of your gift as an Oracle.”
His tone grew so impassioned that the hairs on my neck stood.
“The Reverists were a strong lot. Dream Walkers, Empaths, Oracles…but a Reverist, a pure-blooded Reverist…they could completely control the mind and bend it to their whim and desire. To simply be near one put you in danger of their influence.”
Swallowing hard, I allowed him to lead me down the row of images. One carving stuck out as particularly violent. It showed the Sources being placed under a large slab and the Reverists standing upon the slab as those below were trapped and crushed.
“There was peace for a long time, but the Reverists craved immortality, something only the Source Origins could grant them. After centuries of quarreling, the Reverists attacked the minds ofeverySource power in these lands.”
My heart was beating quickly, on edge from the story—I’d never had an explanation for how one could have both Reverist abilities and Source magic. It was as though something fell into place in my understanding of my own magic.
“The Reverists used tricks of the mind to get the Sources to give away all of the power in their veins. Thus, ridding this world of the Source Origins and casting them into that in-between place they feared.
“The Reverists were granted the gifts of the Sources and immortality. But with each generation, their Source magic diminished.”
I tilted my head. “But Source magic was strong before the Order.”
“Nothing compared to what it used to be.”
“Because the Origins no longer walk the lands to gift their magic onto others?” I asked
He shrugged. “Some of them don’t.”
