Ash inclined his head. “You don’t understand, Sera. The powers he stole have weakened and become nearly nonexistent, but he has not weakened. He is the oldest Primal. The most powerful. He could kill any of us. And then what? A new god can’t rise. Not without Life. That will impact the mortal realm. Your home. Nothing can be done.” He leaned toward me. “At least, that’s what I believed. My father never told me or anyone about why he made the deal. It’s been a godsdamn mystery for over two hundred years. But he had a reason.” His gaze flickered over my features. “He gave us a chance for something to be done.”
I rocked back and then forward. “Like what? What can I do with just an ember of life besides bring back the dead?” I said, and then a strangled laugh left me. “And, yes, I know that sounds impressive and all—”
“Sounds?” Saion coughed out a laugh. “It is impressive.”
“I-I know that, but how can that change anything? How can that undo what Kolis has done?”
Ash touched one of my hands, causing the familiar jolt. “What Kolis did can’t be undone, but what my father did by placing what had to be his ember of life in you? Hidden away in a mortal bloodline this whole time? He made sure there was a chance for life.”
“It’s got to be more than that,” Rhahar said, leaning against the back of his cousin’s chair. “Most of us weren’t alive when Eythos was King. Hell, some of us weren’t even alive when Eythos lived.”
Rhain and Bele lifted their hands.
“But I just don’t think what he did only means that a Primal ember of life is still in existence.” Rhahar shook his head. “It has to mean something else.”
“Agreed.” Saion eyed me.
“But what?” I looked around the room.
“That part is still a mystery.” Ash’s hand slid off mine as he leaned back. “What’s going on in your head right now?”
I laughed, eyes widening slightly. “I don’t think you really want to know.”
“I do.”
I saw Saion raise his brows in doubt. “Wait. This is your father’s ember of life. Does that somehow make us…related?”
Ash barked out a laugh. “Good gods, no. It’s not like that. It would be like taking someone’s blood. That doesn’t make you related to them.”
“Oh, thank gods. ‘Cause that would be…” I trailed off at the sight of the eager stares, hoping I would continue. I cleared my throat. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t think of what else this gift could mean. How it can help. Your father, was his soul destroyed, too?” I asked, thinking that if it hadn’t been, it could be worth the risk of contacting him, even if Ash couldn’t. Then it hit me. “If you could’ve, you would’ve had someone contact him already.”
“His soul wasn’t destroyed.” Ash’s skin had thinned as wisps of eather swirled in his eyes once more. “Kolis still retained some ember of death in him, just like my father retained some of his ember of life. Enough power for Kolis to capture and hold a soul. He has my father’s soul.”
“Gods,” I uttered, my stomach churning with nausea. I briefly closed my eyes. “Is your…is your father aware in that state?”
“I don’t believe so, but I don’t know if that is what I tell myself just to make it easier to deal,” he admitted. A moment passed, and the eather slowed in his eyes. His chest rose with a deep breath, and then he glanced over at Ector. “Now we know why the poppies came back.”
“What?” I glanced between them.
Ash’s gaze returned to me. “Remember the flower I told you about?”
“The temperamental plant that reminds you of me?” I remembered.
Rhain smothered a laugh behind his hand as Ash nodded. “It’s not like the poppies in the mortal realm. Besides their very poisonous needles, they are more red than orange, and they grow far more abundantly in Iliseeum. Gods…” He drew his thumb along his lower lip. “They haven’t grown here in hundreds of years, but a few days after your arrival, one blossomed in the Red Woods.”
I remembered seeing him then, crossing the courtyard and entering the Red Woods alone. More than once, that had been what he was checking on. “But I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t think you had to do anything but be here,” Nektas said, rubbing a hand along Jadis’s back as she wiggled a bit in his arms. “Your presence is slowly bringing life back.”
That sounded…utterly unbelievable, but something Ash had said earlier resurfaced. “You said the effects of there being no Primal of Life was already being felt in the mortal realm.”
Ash nodded. “What you call the Rot? It’s what happened in the Shadowlands. It’s a consequence of there being no Primal of Life.”
I stared at him as my heart felt as if it stopped in my chest. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—in my head at first. I couldn’t have heard him right. Or I didn’t understand. “The Rot is a byproduct of the deal your father made with Roderick Mierel expiring.”
Ash’s brows lowered as he rested an arm on the nicked table. “That has nothing to do with the deal, Sera.”
Shock rippled through me, rocking me to my very core. “I don’t understand. It started after I was born. It appeared then, and the weather started to change. The droughts and the ice that falls from the sky. The winters—”
“The deal did have an expiration date because what my father did to the climate wasn’t natural. It couldn’t continue that way forever.” Ash’s gaze searched mine. “But all that meant is that the climate would return to its original state—more seasonal conditions like in some areas of the mortal realm. Of course, I doubt it will ever get as cold as Irelone, not where Lasania is located, but nothing too severe.”
My heart sped up. There was a buzzing in my ears. I barely heard Saion when he said, “The weather has been affected by what Kolis did. That’s why the mortal realm is seeing more extreme weather like droughts and storms. It’s a symptom of the destabilization of the balance.”
“The deal has nothing to do with the Rot?” I whispered, and Ash shook his head. I…I wanted to deny what he was saying. Believe that this was some sort of trick.
“Did you think these two things were related?” Ash asked.
A tremor started in my legs. “We knew the deal expired with my birth. That’s when the Rot showed. That’s what we’d been told, generation after generation. That the deal would end, and things would return to as they were.”
“And they did,” Ash said. “The weather changed back to its original state years ago. But as Saion explained, it’s been more extreme because of the destabilization. Every place in the mortal realm has seen strange weather patterns.”
“This Rot showing when it did sounds like a coincidence,” Rhain stated. “Or maybe it is tied to your birth and what Nyktos’ father did. Maybe the emergence of the ember of life triggered something. Why it would cause the land to sour is beyond me.”
Ash leaned toward me. “But it’s not a part of the original deal my father made. What is happening in Lasania would’ve happened even if my father hadn’t made the deal, and it will eventually spread throughout the entire mortal realm, just as it will spread in Iliseeum.”
“Actually, you know what? I think Rhain was onto something. It might have to do with the deal,” Aios said, and my head swung in her direction. Her gaze met mine. “But not in the way you might think.”
“What are you thinking?” Ash asked, looking over at the goddess.
“Maybe this Rot—this consequence of what Kolis did—has taken so long to appear because the ember of life was alive in the Mierel bloodline over the years. I mean, the mortal realm is far more vulnerable to the actions of Primals. The fallout of there being no Primal of Life should’ve been felt long before this, right?” Aios glanced around the table. There were a few nods of agreement. “That ember of life was, in a way, protected in the bloodline. Still there, but…when you were born, the ember of life entered a mortal body—a vessel so to speak—that is vulnerable and carries an expiration date.”