“Before me stands someone in need. I could not fathom refusing to help when it is in my power to do so. If I were to simply walk away and let your mother be sealed up in the ruins, I could never forgive myself.”
On receipt of Biggs’s first message the other day, Sol had been almost frantic with worry. Who knew what might have happened to the survey team and those who had gone in to assist it? She’d taken her frustration out on Luna, saying horrible things to her, and yet, when they were surrounded by the daemons at Nohm, Luna had protected her as if it were the only thing to do.
And as a result, Luna had edged even closer toward becoming a daemon. Now responsibility for that lay on Sol’s shoulders, too.
She looked at Luna. “I can’t let you do it. I’ve already caused you enough trouble―”
“It is no hardship,” Luna interrupted, words quiet yet firm. “I help because I wish to. Did you not hear me before?”
Their travels together had only lasted a few days, but during that time, Luna’s words had always been truthful. The woman was too transparent for her own good, the type of person who always let her hand show. It was exasperating. But because she never lied and was always straightforward, her words held power. Luna wouldn’t say something if she didn’t believe it to be true. So her quiet statement pierced right to Sol’s core.
“Luna . . . ” she started.
Sol decided to be straightforward, too.
“I’m sorry. I need your help. I can’t do this without your powers.”
Luna smiled and nodded. “Then let us go. Together.”
“Thanks, Luna. And whatever happens, I just want you to know―”
Luna cut her off. “No. Do not say any more. That is the kind of thing people say before they go and die on you.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
On the road to the ruins, Sol finally shared the story of the day she lost everything. The day Gralea fell. Since the events had occurred after Lunafreya’s death in Altissia, everything was news to her, from the revelation of Ardyn Izunia’s hand in the destruction of the empire to the report of Emperor Iedolas’s death.
“Daemons attacked the estate that day. Soon the whole place was overrun. Desperate to see to my safety, my lady mother . . . Heh. It sounds weird, saying it now. But that’s what I used to call her. ‘My lady mother.’”
Sol’s real father―the imperial prince of Niflheim, Iedolas Aldercapt’s son―had not been wed to Sol’s mother. For a long time, the emperor had been unaware of the existence of his own granddaughter.
“The mom I have now, I met right after my escape. Ever since then, the day I became an orphan, she’s always looked after me. We’re not related by blood, but to me, she’s my real mother.”
“Then we must stop at nothing to ensure that she is safe.”
“Yeah. You’re right. We have to save her.”
For a while afterward, Sol was quiet, and the motorcycle rolled on. But the silence was no longer awkward. There was no need for words said aloud. Lunafreya knew that she and Sol were thinking the same thing. They were headed toward the same future.
From the moment they’d arrived at Nohm and Sol had explained that there had been an incident at some ruins nearby, Lunafreya had suspected she knew which site it was. Now, as they drew near on Regina, her suspicions were confirmed.
“This is Ralmuell,” Lunafreya murmured.
“Yeah, that’s right. You been here before or something?”
“I have. For the first time when I was twelve years of age.”
When Lunafreya explained that this was the location where she had performed her training in preparation to become the Oracle, Sol’s eyes grew wide.
“I was taught that it was a temple from ancient times,” Lunafreya explained, “but I had not realized that it rested atop a remnant site of the Solheim civilization.”
The holy site of Ralmuell was said to be a place of communion between humanity and the gods. Citizens of Tenebrae often went to the ruins on pilgrimage, and the Oracle successors always trained there before ascension.
“If you trained here, then you must know the layout, right?”
“To some extent. As I understand it, there is a large underground cavern, but entry to that part of the site was forbidden.”
“Know any shortcuts or side entrances? It’d be best if we can sneak in without being spotted. If Biggs and Wedge catch us, they’ll stop us from going inside for sure.”
“Biggs. Might that be whom you were speaking with earlier?”
Sol nodded. Lunafreya remembered the grief-stricken look as Sol had asked, You’re planning to leave them behind?!
“Yes,” Lunafreya said. “I know of a way we can get inside without being too conspicuous.”
For the duration of her training, Lunafreya’s contact with the pilgrims was carefully moderated, as she had not yet formally ascended as Oracle. She had made use of a passage that allowed entry to the training grounds without being seen by visitors.
Beyond the passage, too, she had learned of several small rooms and hidden staircases carved into the solid rock that allowed one to move about in secrecy. The existence of such things perhaps implied that there had always been, even from ancient times, those with untoward intentions who wished to see the Oracle and her words bent to their own nefarious ends.
They avoided the hunters watching the entrance and circled around farther back. To Lunafreya, everything about the temple grounds brought back memories. When they were inside, she gazed at the murals of the gods on the ceilings and of past Oracles on the walls.
At the time, it had occurred to Lunafreya that someday her likeness, too, would appear on one of these walls, but at the age of twelve the prospect had seemed like something so terribly distant it was hardly even real.
Things felt different now. She had lived one existence as the Oracle. She’d forged covenants with the gods at the cost of her life. She’d been killed by Ardyn. The temple walls were the same as when she was a girl, and yet now they carried a gravity she’d never apprehended before.
Lunafreya’s mother had been killed suddenly and unjustly by the forces of Niflheim. Surely there were other Oracles of the past who had died untimely deaths, yet every Oracle on these walls was depicted with smiles overflowing with affection. How many tears did each of those smiles conceal?
The portrait furthest back was of the first Oracle. She appeared again by the doors leading to the sanctuary, this time as a statue silently guarding the entrance to the holy site. Her name was engraved on the pedestal upon which she stood: Aera Mirus Fleuret.