Astarte's Wrath (Kythan Guardians 0.50)

Epilogue

“Don’t even think of it, Phoenix.” I eye him sternly.

Flame dances in the center of his palm, the tiny fire curling and swaying. “She has to learn about Narco power eventually.” Ignoring my glare, he moves the little, flickering flame before Caesarie.

Her brilliant blue eyes reflect the flame’s amber glow as they enlarge. She mumbles the word fire, which sounds closer to “pire”, and stretches her tiny, plump digits out to grasp it.

“Don’t touch,” I tell her, capturing her hand. “Only watch, Xarie.”

Her lips spread wide, revealing her little white teeth, as Phoenix casts the flame higher. My heart swells and sinks at once. She looks so much like her father when she smiles, her lips the same full shape, her cheeks bearing his slight dimples. I ache to be with him. But I mourn leaving my daughter.

It’s bittersweet agony.

Pushing my frail frame against the headboard, I try to sit up—to look healthy for Xarie. I don’t want my child’s last memories of me to be filled with my illness. The child, by Kythan law, I shouldn’t have been able to conceive. Whether it was the fact that Xarion was a pharaoh, or the gods chose to bless me, I’ll never be sure. But I choose to believe it was the bond between Xarion and me that made it possible.

Phoenix curls his fingers into his palm, extinguishing his Flame. “Want me to take her out to play?”

I nod. “Please. Just for a little while . . . until it’s time.”

Sadness rims his luminous eyes with deep, dark shadows. “We won’t be long.” After he hoists Xarie onto his back, he clasps my hand and squeezes. Then he races a squealing three-year-old into the desert sun.

It’s so brutal here in the outskirts of Memphis that I almost call after them—remind Phoenix to pull up her hood—but the sound of her small laugh stops me. He takes good care of her. And he always will.

After the ultimate power wreaked much havoc on my body, I collapsed. Fadil did not lie to me; I was not made to house this much power. When Phoenix found me half-dead near the bank of the harbor—guardians and soldiers raving about a slave gone mad and calling for my execution—he shepherded us out of Alexandria and into the desert.

We claimed a small settlement near Memphis as our new home, where Phoenix could easily travel to a populated human city. He offered his servitude to a weapon’s specialist as a blacksmith, his Flame improving the Egyptian’s small iron smelting business. And I offered mine to an old Greek noble woman who adores glass jewelry. She loves it so she comes to my hut to gather it—which alleviated much of the burden of reserving my fading power source.

Word soon came of Octavian boasting his conquest over Egypt. He took monuments and statues from ancient temples and had them restored in Alexandria in honor of himself. He wouldn’t permit the funeral rites to be performed over the royal family. He kept their sarcophaguses in Cleopatra’s mausoleum, showcased as his triumphant conquest over the pharaohs.

Even though Xarion hadn’t appeared to me since that horrid day in Alexandria, I knew his Akh was bound to the earth, roaming, waiting to be welcomed into the underworld. I couldn’t allow Octavian to win this final battle over the Ptolemies.

And I would not tolerate Octavian keeping Xarion as his trophy.

Phoenix and I became grave robbers.

Using the secret access in the Library, we stole one of the scientists carting devices and then broke into Xarion’s sarcophagus and took the inner coffin. With heavy hearts, we left Cleopatra and Antonius, but first performed the rites over them. Then with what conviction I had left, I performed them over Xarion, whispering my temporary goodbyes. I would see him again. Soon.

Now, he’s at rest with his family and the pharaohs of Egypt in the underworld.

And I fade daily. The power took nearly all of my life force, the ink of my Kythan mark barely visible. I only held on for Xarie. After Xarion revealed his line would live on, I fought with everything inside of me to bring her into this world.

I’ve managed to see her grow into a toddler, making sure she was safeguarded from Octavian. He can never discover that a true heir to the Roman throne lives. My time in politics ended that day with Xarion. I only endeavor for our child to live. And to live happily.

After the annexation of Egypt to Rome, Octavian offered the Narcolym servitude within his military legions. Since Cleopatra’s curse ensured the Kythan would never be free of their binds to humans, the Narcos took his offer willingly. Their power helped Octavian found the Roman Empire.

The Shythe, never a race to welcome conflict, scattered to desert towns and cities. They found refuge in serving humans through their glassblowing, making Egyptian glass one of the most sought after luxuries. Some more boisterous Shythe began developing lightings and alternate power sources with Charge, but they were quickly shut down.

The Narcos continue their feuding and warring, searching out Shythe dwellings and annihilating their deemed foes. They refuse for any other race of Kythan to supersede their powers. They develop war machines and devices to power the world. And with these monstrous creations, they travel far, seeking the Leymak; their betrayers.

The Kythan must serve to exist. That was the way of it in the time of the pharaohs, and it will continue to be until one who can wield the ultimate power decides differently.

But that knowledge dies with me.

My head spins with the dizzying thoughts of all our struggles. And as the power has allowed me glimpses into the future, I know there is much more to come. Centuries will pass and races will be wiped out before the curse is broken. I close my eyes and picture the girl’s face who will be the one. The one who will be born from my own bloodline.

When I cross into the underworld and the ultimate power finally releases me, it will travel the aether to find her. An image of her during her Change comes to me—her glowing violet eyes shifting to white with fear, her hands lit with a swirling vortex. In time, she will understand what she must do. This is her legacy.

It’s the reason Xarie must go on where I cannot. Though I know the queen did what she had to during the war as it was not possible to curse just one race—the warring must stop. The Kythan must be freed. Through the descendant of the one who cursed them, will be born one to set them free. I’ve seen it.