Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [64]
“I wasn’t her protector,” Caelan protested.
Moah sent him a glance of rebuke.
Caelan sighed and surrendered. “Very well. Unofficially.”
“Had you not performed such a task,” Moah said sternly, “you would never have learned to restrain aggression in favor of your gentle side. Had you not fallen in love with the empress, you would never have learned what is forbidden and what is not. Nor would you have seen your own destiny.”
“My destiny,” Caelan repeated. He shook his head, unwilling to accept the burden Moah wanted to give him. “All my life, others have been telling me what I must do, what I must be. I want to make my own choices.”
“You are capable of understanding much,” Moah said. “When you are ready to hear my words, you will hear them.”
“But—”
“Are you ready to return?” Moah asked him. “Are you ready to carry Exoner?”
“I have enough blood on my hands,” Caelan said. “I don’t want to continue.”
“That is good,” Moah said. “When the time comes, you will know how to stop.”
“But—”
“Caelan, your spirit is like a strong vine, wrapped and entwined among your threads of life in a protective binding. When you learn to be what you are, when you learn to trust what you are, then you will truly be the Light Bringer.”
“You aren’t listening to me,” Caelan said in frustration. “I came to your camp to ask for help in freeing the empress from the poison in her, not to call myself a king and free the earth from oppression.”
“Turn around and look,” Moah commanded.
As he spoke, he spun Caelan around by the shoulders and held him in place, giving him a little shake for emphasis. “Look! Do you see it?”
Caelan looked at the tall marble columns standing beyond the temple. A black mist flowed around their bases.
Horrified, he whispered, “What is it?”
But he knew. In his heart, he already knew the answer.
Moah replied anyway. “It is the breath of Beloth, escaping imprisonment within the realm of shadow. It is the cloud you have seen coming closer to Imperia with every passing year. It is the darkness that can eventually engulf the light.”
Caelan closed his eyes. It was the end of the world.
“No,” Moah said. “There is a chance.”
“Not me!” Caelan said, spinning around to glare at Moah. “What fool can go against that? How can a man fight the mist? The wars of gods are not for men.”
“Had a man not opened the door of Beloth’s prison,” Moah replied, “there would be much truth in what you say.”
Caelan snorted. “Kostimon opened the door, but how am I to shut it?”
“That is your choice.”
Caelan’s temper grew shorter. “Is it?” he said mildly. “And are you going to put a—a Choven spell on me to make me as strong as a god? Gault forgive me! I know I am blaspheming, but what is a man to say to this?”
“The strength of men and the strength of Choven are woven together in you,” Moah replied. “If there is a way to stop the return of Beloth, you will find it. That is foretold.”
“But—”
“There is no one else, Caelan,” Moah said. His gaze did not waver. “You are the only one.”
Caelan stared at him and tried again to find a way out. “But I am only a—”
“What are you, Caelan? What are your strengths? What gifts do you have? How strong is your faith, your belief in the realm of light? You have feared many things, but if there is anything which should be feared and vilified, it is that which comes.”
Moah pointed at the black mist. “Kostimon’s destiny intersects with yours. That is the key which you must remember. Kostimon is the means by which you can reach Beloth.”
Caelan’s mouth was dry. He tried to swallow without much success. How simple Moah made it sound. Didn’t he realize what he was asking? Just that one journey through the realm of shadow had been horrifying enough.
Cowardice filled his throat like bile. “I am hurt,” he said. “I am not whole. The emerald has damaged me in some way.”
Moah released his arm, but his gaze went on holding Caelan’s. “How many excuses will you find?”
His scorn turned Caelan’s face hot. “I will find all the excuses I can. But I have told you the truth.”
“Has not the