“Isla and Ailill established themselves as the new king and queen, and the land became Islor, named after Queen Isla. They were the original Islorians, the first of their kind, which Ybaris to this day call Malachi’s demons.” She peers up at the Fate of Fire’s ominous form. “Many struggled with accepting what they had become, including Ailill and Isla. Some tried feeding from animals to stave off the blood hunger. Others abstained altogether, continuing with their usual diet, and they grew weaker by the day. They realized that not feeding off the mortals wasn’t an option, not if they wanted to survive. Given the lifespan of an immortal—”
“Which is what?” I cut in. Lifespan suggests they don’t live forever.
She frowns curiously. “It varies greatly, but I would say anywhere from eight to ten centuries. Some, much longer.”
I bite my tongue against the expletive that threatens to slip out.
“And with that many years, they feared soon there would be no mortals left. And then what? How would the Islorians survive? Through Malachi, Ailill learned that the blood curse is spread through a venom that the Islorians release through their bite, and that they could control the urge to release this venom and not infect the mortals. They educated the immortal Islorians and established the tributary system, where humans were protected and the immortals were fed. It took years, but it worked. It is still in use today.”
“Except that humans are now enslaved and used as blood bags.” I can’t keep the horror from my voice. “They’re not given a choice, are they?”
“It is the only way for all to survive,” she says with a wince. “With hunger comes desperation. The humans will bleed regardless, but without a system in place, it will be under far worse conditions. At least this brought law and order. A civilized framework to an uncivilized situation.”
And what about all the humans who are deemed cooks and laborers? Who lug blocks of crumbled stone from gardens with sweat pouring from their faces as courtesans stroll by, twirling their parasols? Is that also for the survival of the Islorian immortals? I don’t bother asking; I already know the answer to that.
“The result of the fates’ anger was far more reaching than originally thought. Mordain is like the pulse of caster magic. Aminadav’s rift in the land was said to be so deep, it severed Islor from that source. There were no more gifted babies born to humans in Islor, and the casters who lived south of the rift were dying off. It was assumed that this was Aminadav’s intention—to cut off Malachi’s demons from all elemental magic so they could no longer beseech the fates. Soon, Ailill became the only elemental power in all Islor. He was fearsome, his elemental powers to fire and water impressive.”
“To Malachi and Aoife.”
“Yes. And he chose Malachi.” She gives me a knowing look.
That would have angered Aoife.
“But the gifted babies were not the only ones missing in Islor. Malachi had created these immortals in a way that would not allow them to bear offspring. This was an especially tragic circumstance for Queen Isla, who was desperate for children of her own to pass on the throne of Islor. So desperate, they were willing to risk the consequences of summoning Malachi again. He was kind to them this time, though. He taught them how to tap into the nymphaeum’s power.”
“How?” I blurt. A spark of eagerness hits me. Finally, an opportunity to get more information about the sacred garden without appearing obvious.
“The nymphaeum is also a source of magic, much like Mordain. It is an ancient power, grounded in nature and creation, but older than that of the casters. It was here long before our time. We do not understand exactly how it works, but it is said to be most potent on the night of the blood moon. Malachi taught King Ailill and Queen Isla how to utilize the magic of the nymphaeum on those nights to create a child. They did as told and were blessed with a son they named Rhionn. They had many more children after that, and since then, every blood moon, hundreds of immortals beseech the king for access to the nymphaeum in hopes of being granted a child by the nymphs. That is who lives within the nymphaeum.”
The nymphs. “As in faeries?”
“Old texts speak of their kind inhabiting our lands many thousands of years ago. They’re said to be diabolic creatures with a wicked bone that inspired so much chaos that the fates decided it was best they be confined. They are locked behind a door, unable to leave their sacred garden.”
Another creature to add to my collection of fables come alive. “Where is this nymphaeum?”
“In the royal grounds.”
“But where?” How big is this garden within a garden, the one that confines these devilish creatures?
“Near the lake.”
I’m about to press for more details, but she waves me away. “Back to the crux of this conversation, which is Malachi’s pet, King Ailill.”
I struggle to temper my frustration.
“He should have been content, but he had not learned his lesson. Or perhaps the gift of Hudem had fooled him into thinking that summoning Malachi wouldn’t have consequences. Things were complicated with a newly forged kingdom. There were skirmishes and struggles for power, as immortal lords and ladies looked for an opportunity to establish themselves as rulers. There were still elven within Islor’s lands who had avoided the plague and held on to their elemental affinities. Some of them were powerful and were attempting to usurp the throne. Through the nymphaeum’s blessing on Hudem, immortal babies were born with elemental affinities much like their Ybarisan cousins, though not nearly as potent.
“Ailill wanted more strength. Again, he went to Malachi and implored him to make him stronger so he could defeat the threat to the throne, once and for all. What Ailill was asking for was impossible. The fates created the world together, and it is their combined power within this world that generates the affinities for those who live within it. Affinities cannot be acquired. Ailill knew this already, but he challenged Malachi to find a way.
“In return, Malachi quested him with obtaining a key caster. That is an elemental with affinities to all four elements. They are extremely rare and extremely powerful. They are the closest thing to the fates themselves walking this earth. And one had just been born—a girl named Farren. She was in Mordain, where her power could be reined in by the guild. Malachi promised Ailill that if he brought Farren to the nymphaeum, Malachi would show him how to wield her power for himself.
“King Ailill said it was impossible. Mordain would never give up a key caster willingly, and to capture one would mean contending with their power, and that is not as simple as muting an elven’s affinity with a blade’s strike. So, Malachi gave Ailill a rare gift to help. A piece of himself, of his corporeal horn, to cage the key caster’s power.” Wendeline taps the cuff around my wrist. “That’s what these are made of. They have been hidden away in the royal vault for nearly two thousand years. Most in Islor don’t realize what they are.”
I skate my fingers over the smooth, obsidian jewelry with new understanding. “That’s how they work.”
“These in particular, yes. They work on both caster and elven affinities. Tokens from the fates can do all sorts of things. They can be used to restrain, control, mask, or amplify affinities. They can create illusions.”