Ialane laughed and rotated to the crowd. “They all will die against us. No one will remember the Six. We will wipe you from eternity. You are forgotten. You are dead. You are
bygone
.”
The alp twisted around and flung a spell of dark clouds. Any normal person would have withered in the magical barrage. Any normal person would have screamed and begged for forgiveness.
Mara stepped into the smoke, and it seized upon her entry and withered into pathetic wisps. Mara lifted her chin and gazed down at the demon she’d defeated in another form so long ago. “You listen to me, you murderous filth. Your brothers and sisters wage war upon this world. You have raised a monster for the wicked king to ride, and beneath his banner, your kind will work a horror unlike anything in the memory of man. I will witness it even as my power retreats within my son. But he will stop the alp. He will bury them, and then he will bury the king so our power will be reborn.”
Ialane hissed, bearing the pale fangs hidden behind her scarlet lips. Her gold eyes glimmered with her hate. She raised a palm, and a swirling ring of fire the color of a scarab’s shimmering wings surrounded her hand.
Wind billowed through the alp’s hair. The wicked fire painted the scales of the serpent around her neck in shifting greens.
Ialane stepped forward. “Your son is mine.”
Mara smiled. She held her son in the crook of his arm. She raised her hand, and a halo of white fire edged by crimson erupted around it. Hot wind washed in a torrent through her hair, and if an impurity remained on her, it faded with the heat.
A well of pride exploded from Mara’s heart. She grinned, and it was a grin from deep within her soul. “He has a name, Ialane Donra. I will give you the gift of knowing it before I wipe you from this world, this Sun, and any others that may follow.”
“
No!
” Ialane screamed. “He will not be the savior you seek!”
The priestess summoned all her power into her dark flames. The magic roared from her hand like an ancient dragon so enraged, it would burn the entire world at once.
“Seek?” Mara laughed. “I never sought him. He came to
me
. He chose
me
, and I chose
him
. I was blessed to receive him, and we granted one another divinity by our sacrifice.”
Ialane’s flames met Mara’s, and a clap of thunder rocketed the temple, flinging all but Mara and the serpent priestess to the floor. Mara stepped forward. Her flames flared and ate away at the demon alp’s.
“His name…” Mara’s voice no longer sounded like her own. It was deep as an ocean, vast as a cloudless sky, and mighty as the highest mountain. She looked to her son and smiled.
“…His name is Iron.”
For the first time in his life, her son’s eyes opened and met his mother’s. He squirmed, and his cherry lips parted.
Iron giggled. Ialane shrieked.
The wicked priestess grabbed her serpent and flung it at Mara. “Do not let the boy live!”
Mara clenched her jaw. She reached through the fire and caught Ialane’s snake. It writhed in her grasp. Its muscles flexed and bent in her grip. It bore its fangs. Mara tightened her hold. Red cracks spread along the creature’s body. It twisted. It seized. And then, it burst into flame and ash.
Mara found Sister Ialane’s panicked eyes through the wall of fire scorching the temple. “I know your king saw through that serpent’s gaze,” Mara said. “Now he has heard the name. Now he knows my child lives. I have shown King Sol all I wished him to see. There is no longer a need for you.”
With a flick of her wrist, Mara flung her flames at Ialane. They tore apart the alp’s fire and encased the demon’s body. The alp fought the flames. She struggled against the heat.
But nothing, not even a demon, could stand against the Mother’s flames. They forced Ialane to her knees. The alp raised her arms to shield herself and screamed.
The flames blackened her pale face. They blistered her porcelain features. They peeled the skin away and burned the bone to ash.
You will still die tonight,
the alp’s spirit whispered in Mara’s ear.
And with you, so goes the magic of the Six. Good King Sol will bury you, and then, he will bury your son.
Mara banished the alp’s spirit to the endless void where her kind wailed into oblivion. Mara’s white fire receded. The king’s soldiers fled, and even the serpent priests fled with them. The last one to leave was Brother Caspran. He glared poison at Mara, his shadowed eyes swearing revenge. But like the others, he too fled into the safety of the wider world.
Those faithful to the Six who survived the massacre rose and cheered. They turned to Mara. She nodded to them and turned to the fire crackling before the statue of her likeness.
“And so it ends,” she said, stepping toward the flames.
Death and carnage took a quiet turn as the last soldiers and serpents disappeared through the shattered temple’s doors. The roiling, crackling flames encompassed Mara, but they did not burn. They were flames of her own heart so they only made her stronger. Yet, even as she became something of such great power, she felt herself slip from one world to a darker other.
Soon, the spark of life that she gave to resurrect her son would snuff out her own. The Burning Mother was meant to sit in the heavens and watch the world, not stand amongst its faithful.
With a mother’s loving smile, she looked upon her son. “Iron, Iron, I will love you until the end of my days. When you cry, think of me to dry your tears. When you smile, know that I will smile with you. When you dream, know that I will dream of you.”
Sander Hale and Cassandra approached Mara as one might approach a lioness napping in the summer sun. Their fear and wonder flowed from them on their deep breaths.
Mara grinned and looked to the two priests. “We have come far tonight, but there is still a step left for me to take before I leave you.”
Cassandra stumbled forward. “Mother, I do not wish for you to leave.”
“But I must, my darling daughter. I did not craft this flesh of mine to live beyond this sunrise. You know this.”
“I do, do,” Cassandra said, slowly closing her eyes.
Sander eyed Iron warily. “So…magic really will die then?”
Mara sighed and caressed her son’s temple. “It will. It has already nearly faded from Sollan. Once I leave you, what spark of power lay within the faithful will diminish in the many lands of Urum. This haughty king of yours has begun a process that once started will not stop until it is finished. Like a mighty wave sweeping one end of the Sapphire Sea to the next, this will only stop once it crashes on the shore.”
“And when the wave recedes?”
“Death and destruction and one child who holds all hope within him.”
“We will lose our magic. What are we without your power to propel us? I’m damn near nothing more than a common thief without the Sinner’s smoke and shadows. I feel like my income is about to take a mighty hit.”
Cassandra swatted the man’s shoulder. “Do not curse before the Mother! The mightiest of the Six stands before you, and you speak like a sailor on his third shot of saltwater gin!”
Mara laughed at Sander’s words. “Sander, Sander, it is not all fire and brimstone beneath the king’s heel for those who still bend a knee to the Six. Magic will flourish for a small number. For those who follow my son, the spark of me within him will ignite their souls as long as they tread in his footsteps.”
“Lucky them.” Sander’s lips puckered, and his shoulders slumped.
“Why so sad? Chin up, loyal priest and quick-witted thief, for you shall be counted among his number.”
Sander’s jaw went slack. His gaze shot up to meet Mara’s, and he stumbled back. “What? M—M—Me?”
“You were right when you said you suspected you would have a companion on your journey to frozen Skaard. In a way, a piece of me will be with you, but it is not me who you will take. You will hold an infant boy, the savior born to battle a dark king and the nightmares he raises from the dead.”
Sander swallowed. He rubbed the back of his head while it slowly shook side to side. “That’s heavy stuff, Burning Mother. Are you sure I’m up for it? Hells, I’m no good at caregiving. My mom used to tell me I’d find a way to kill a cactus if I could.”
“He’s right,” Cassandra chimed in. “Mother, should it not be one of your loyal acolytes who raises the boy, teaches him your ways?”
“No. He will never be safe with my faithful. Only one who knows the shadows and secret paths of the world can keep him from harm until he’s ready.” Her gaze shifted back to the thief. “Sander, take Iron to Skaard. Teach him the Sinner’s magic. It will not die from you with him by your side. Teach him the ways of stealth and secrecy. Teach him to survive a brutal world. By flame I smelted Iron from the ashes. Should he die, so will what magic remains, closing the door on the Six to the world of Urum. The Third Sun will set, and the Serpent Sun will rise.”
Sander’s hands balled into determined fists. He clenched his jaw and bowed. “I will teach him to survive. I will keep him safe. I swear it, Burning Mother, on my very soul…even though it’s not a particularly clean one. How will I know he is ready for this?”
Mara closed her eyes and let her spirit wash over the world she loved. She flew across the glittering Sapphire Sea. She breathed in the frigid air of Skaard. She sifted through the ancient forests of the Eastern Kingdoms. She sped over the rolling dunes of the Simmering Sands. There was so much beauty in Urum, so much she wished she could have seen through human eyes.
I will watch the world through my son’s eyes even as I am chased from it.
“I will always be with you,” Mara said. She extended Iron, and the thief gently pulled him from her arms. Mara sucked in her breath. “You will know him ready by my sign.”
A great weight lifted from her body, and with it, her flames faded. Her eyes closed, her spirit came upon the great city of Sollan. She saw the king’s palace. In it, she saw Good King Sol. He reclined on a throne smelted from purest gold. He crowned himself with a golden serpent eating its own tail.
A beast slept before his throne. Two pale wings folded against its back, and it cradled its head in claws that could shred stone like butter. A trail of smoke drifted from its nostrils. It opened an eye rimmed by gold and hate, focusing on her.
So the alp have raised a dragon for you,
Mara thought.
My son will cut it down, just like I cut down those demon steeds of theirs so long ago.
Good King Sol lifted his head. She stared into his eyes, at the burning, writhing pit of hate that had replaced his heart. He grinned like a hungry wolf catching sight of wounded prey.
“I’m coming for him,” Sol said.
Be careful what you hunt. A fox falls before a wolf. A wolf falls before a man. A man falls before a king. A king falls before Iron.
“Oh, I know my prey, Burning Mother, and you know by now, I am much more than a man who wears a crown.”
Mara turned away from Sol, leaving him and his dragon to their wickedness.
Indeed, you are. But know that when you die, it will be as a man, fearing the endless void your heresy will bring you.
Her eyes snapped open to the temple. Her flames cooled. Her body lightened. “I must leave now.”
Cassandra sobbed, burying her face in her palms. “I do not wish to see you die.”
“I must go, my child, but I will never die as long as some spark of my power remains.”
Sander cradled Iron. Her son’s tiny hand pressed against his dark garments. “He will be a great warrior, Burning Mother. Thank you for everything you have done for us.”
“And thank you for all that you will do.”
Mara’s cooling flames flared like the heart of a sun around her, and a mighty light roared into the temple and shook the ground. Glowing lines appeared along her skin. A vision of the corrupted king flared within the fire. Every inch of his features emblazoned on her memory, his wolfish smile sending a shiver down her spine. His heart, his heart, she knew his heart. It was not the heart of a man, but something darker, something older, something that should have been dead and forgotten.
You,
she thought as a horrible realization bloomed within her
. I remember you, my ancient enemy. I know your true name.
And I know you, Mara, the most beautiful maiden in the House of Sin and Silk.
“I will speak of you often,” Sander called, “and I’ll teach the boy of his mother, who is the mother of us all.”
“No!” Mara roared, her voice cracking the temple’s foundation. “Sander Hale, I am the Burning Mother, and this is my last command. Do not speak of me to Iron. He cannot know the one who birthed him for the knowledge will lead to a much darker path.”
Sander shielded his eyes from her brilliant light. “But Mother, I don’t—”
“
Enough!
Do not speak of me to him. Do not let him question this. Do not let him wonder. His past is his destruction. Let him look ever to the horizon and not to the long shadow behind him.”
“Y—Yes, Burning Mother…”
Mara inhaled a breath of Urum’s air. Slowly, she let it slip from her lips. She dipped her chin and clasped her hands beneath her belly, mirroring the statue behind her. The flames encased her like a coffin constructed from the sun. Her skin broke apart. A pillar of light exploded from the Ever-Burning Flame, tearing through the temple roof. As the sun rose on the darkest Harvest Festival in memory, for the briefest moment, a second sun blazed in the sky.
“Goodbye, my son!” Tears fell freely down her cheeks, but she smiled through them. She looked up, reaching to Iron, her child, her son, the boy who would save all mankind.
“I will come to you when the night grows dark. For you, I will be a light that shines the way. I love you, I love you, I love—”