I nodded, thinking over what Gemma had shared. “It sounded like Kolis has been tinkering with his creations. Changing them. Maybeimprovingon them.” I shook my head, exhaling. “If this plan works, what happens to Kolis? And the Rot?”
“If it works, I imagine I would Ascend again. The impact may be as…volatile as when Kolis stole the embers. It might not be. There is no way of knowing. But other Primals and gods would feel it. They would sense that Kolis was no longer the Primal of Life.”
“So, that doesn’t sound like he dies then.”
Nyktos laughed roughly at the clear disappointment in my voice. “Kolis is the oldest Primal alive. We may never be able to kill him. We may only ever be able to weaken him enough to entomb him.”
“Like…like the gods beneath the Red Woods?”
He nodded.
“But you’re wrong, though,” I said. “The way to weakenandkill him is sitting right in front of you.”
The eather intensified in his eyes. “You promised,” he said softly.
I squirmed in the chair. “I did.”
He watched me. “I’m trusting you to keep your word, Sera, and that trust is a very fragile thing.”
“I know.” I lifted my chin. “I’m just pointing out the truth.”
“It’s not the truth.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It never will be.”
Looking away, I tried not to dwell on that fragile trust that he spoke of. “And the Rot?”
“Once I have the embers inside me, the Rot should vanish from the mortal realm—from your kingdom.”
The relief that swept through me would’ve taken my legs out from under me if I’d been standing. It was that potent. An end to the Rot wouldn’t fix everything in Lasania, but with Ezra and Marisol’s leadership, there was more than just hope for my kingdom. There was a future for the entirety of the mortal realm. I could almost cry.
“Your relief,” Nyktos murmured, drawing my gaze to him. “It’s…refreshing. Earthy.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear that I was projecting my emotions. Nodding, I pulled myself together as something occurred to me. “The people here? They have no want for food?”
“Much is imported from other areas of Iliseeum, as well as the grain used to feed the cattle and hogs, but there is just enough to keep everyone fed.”
“Is it possible that food can be exported from these parts of Iliseeum to Lasania so the suffering can be eased until the Rot is fixed?”
“I wish that were something that could be done,” he said softly as disappointment swept through me. “The effects the essence has on mortals who don’t carry it in their veins—and even animals—also impacts other organic matter. The food grown in Iliseeum would begin to rapidly decay as it crossed through the Primal mists between the realms.”
I exhaled slowly, telling myself there was still a chance to end the people’s suffering. “And what about the Shadowlands? You said it didn’t always look like this.”
“The Shadowlands were always different from the rest of Iliseeum—the stars were visible, even during the day, and the nights were darker than any other place in Iliseeum. But, yes, it would recede from here.” He looked at the ceiling, dragging the edge of his fangs over his lower lip. The act snagged my attention, creating a soft whirl in the pit of my stomach. “The change here was slow at first. Parts of it fell to what you call the Rot by the time I was born. But most of the Shadowlands was still alive. Thriving. I think you would’ve found it beautiful. It resembled the woods around your lake—wild and lush.”
Hearing him refer to it asmy lakedid strange things to my chest that were best left alone lest I project my emotions down his throat again.
Thick lashes lowered. “Where land is barren and lifeless now, there were once lakes and fields of flowers as vibrant as the moon.”
“Poppies,” I whispered. The flowers that were nothing like those in the mortal realm had delicate petals the color of blood in the moonlight on the outside and were a shade of crimson on the inside. They only opened when someone approached them.Poisonous, beautiful flowers that were unpredictable and temperamental and reminded him of me.
“The poppies,” he confirmed. A few days after my arrival in the Shadowlands, one had blossomed in the Red Woods. He’d believed it was my presence bringing life back to the Shadowlands. “There were also seasons here. Hot and steamy in the summer, snowy and blustery in the winter. As a child, I used to spend many of those warmer days in the lakes that oncestretched along the road leading to the gates of the Rise. When I grew a little older and had trouble sleeping, I would swim. It’s one of the things I miss most.”
“Is that why you were in my lake that night?” I asked.
“I’d been to the lake many times before,” he admitted after a moment.
I couldn’t help but wonder how many times we’d narrowly missed each other.
“Even when my father died, the Rot didn’t spread fast,” he went on after a moment. “It continued slowly, year after year, taking little pieces at a time and turning the world gray as the sun grew weaker and the nights even longer. Then, seemingly overnight, all the trees in the Dying Woods dropped their leaves, and all the lakes dried up. That was the last of the seasons and sunlight here. But outside of the Shadowlands, it continues to spread slowly.”