Destiny's Blood by Marie Bilodeau (best authors to read .TXT) 📗

walls. Yoma could not see where the waterfall began, but it seemed to be at least as high as the roots of the stalactites.

Illuminating the entire cave was an odd glow, filled with whites and pinks, giving a ghostlike quality to all that lay in the valley below. It took her a second to identify where the glow was coming from, and once she did, she felt tears well up in her eyes. Lacile flowers, of more colours than Yoma even believed possible, clung to the cave walls and grew on the stone walls and bridges. She felt a large lump form in her throat, remembering Layela’s fondness of the flower that only glowed when it was happy. Yoma had thought it was the perfect flower for Layela.

Yoma took a deep breath and started down the stone steps. Lacile flowers clung to the stone ramparts and tumbled down, shadows dancing freely all around them. She could now see that the small rivers served as irrigation for fields of rice, wheat, vegetables and flowers, some of which Yoma didn’t even recognize.

Many individuals worked the fields and cared for them, their heads popping up and out on occasion, only to vanish again as they concentrated on another root. The more steps she descended, the more the scent of summer surrounded her, of fresh plants and pollen.

At the other end of the fields, where Yoma knew they were headed, was a magnificent palace built directly into the stone. Two large circular stairways led to it, illuminated by Lacile flowers that grew up from a colourful garden. She could hear singing, though she could not see the singers. The music was soft and soothing, and Yoma looked inquiringly at Gresko.

“The keepers of this cave,” he said simply. He neither missed a step, nor pointed out where the singers were. Yoma felt her legs grow heavier. Layela used to sing to the Laciles, she remembered. She sang to them and kept them glowing for a long, long time, her voice soft and comforting in the dark, long nights. She missed her sister so much her heart ached.

You would have loved this place, Layl.

The palace rising before them was small, or at least its façade was, but it was impossible to tell how deep into the rock the sculptors had carved its rooms and halls. The front of it was graced with some windows and a few stone balconies carved with intricate designs, all of them flowers, birds, animals…a celebration of the life that had once graced the planet.

As they crossed the fields and several rock bridges over small rivers, Yoma strained to see the designs more clearly through the shadows. Some flowers, she recognized; the central one—the one that adorned the main balcony and was biggest amongst them—was definitely the same as the one on the side of the Victory.

She recognized most of the creatures depicted, but a few she had never seen, and doubted she ever would. She passed two guards who stared at her in awe, and she and Gresko began scaling one of the staircases. Both led to a grand balcony, with large columns lining the way into the palace. Yoma did not immediately enter the palace, but paused and leaned against the cold stone of the balcony railing, pressing both her palms hard into its grooves. Gresko stepped inside the palace, his duty apparently done.

She gazed at the waterfalls, their sound muffling all other noise, and smelled the plants below her, watched the drops from the stalactites tumble onto them. The valley was humid but not uncomfortable. The yellow shimmer that clung to everything made it seem even more surreal.

But then, since entering the great shields of Mirial, nothing much had seemed real. Visions assailed her so frequently she found it difficult to tell them from reality. She shivered as she recalled the vision of Josmere’s corpse and Layela’s death…At the thought of them, Yoma felt some of her strength grow, and some of her hope dwindle at the same time.

Avienne seemed convinced that Ardin, Layela and Josmere had perished. Yoma wished she was as certain.

The roar of the waterfall lulled her. From her vision, she remembered the sound of a waterfall and Layela’s blood. She clutched the stone with her hands. She remembered, but it had been more than a day since the vision had come to her, a longer gap than she had ever had before. She felt her tears welling and swallowed hard.

Maybe that meant her sister was dead. But maybe not.

Still, Yoma thought as she loosened her grip and let her arms fall to her side. I wish you were here. You would have loved this, Layela.

She turned to enter the palace and jumped as she came face to face with a woman. Yoma swore. Were her instincts so dimmed?

“Welcome, Yoma.” The woman smiled, though the smile did not reach her eyes. They were lined with deep black grooves, and her skin ghastly white even in the yellow light. “I am Adina.” The smile strained her features. “Your aunt.”

Yoma took a deep breath, unsure how to greet an aunt that was royalty, or to greet the first family member, aside from Layl, she had ever met. She remained guarded and simply nodded.

Adina took a step closer, looking deeply in her eyes. Her hand came up, and Yoma refused to flinch. The woman brushed back a strand of hair to see both her eyes more clearly. Hesitation crossed her features for a moment, but she quickly narrowed her eyes and removed her hand. “I’m sorry to hear about your sister.”

“Are you?” She spat. “It seems to me, Mirialers were intent on one of our deaths.”

Adina gave a tight smile. “If things had happened as they were meant to, you would not have had to suffer with the knowledge that your sister had to die. And Mirial would still exist.”

Yoma returned the tight smile. “But I might have been the one murdered as a child.” Adina flinched at the