The Scourge of Gods

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Inarhi's world dissolved into a dizzying vertigo, full of disconnected images and sensations. She blinked, her vision frayed, whirling in a hurricane of color. Minutes passed until her mind unscrambled enough for her to attempt to stand. Inarhi wasn't the only one who couldn't find her feet after returning to her physical body. A good many of the witches still writhed on the ground, or wobbled on unsteady legs.

Luna grabbed her hand, helping her up. "Are you well, my lady?"

Inarhi nodded, body uncertain. Her bodyguard helped her off a circular stone platform, overgrown with weeds, at the edge of a cliff-face. It overlooked a cluster of islands and an ocean that stretched into the horizon. A pentagram had been carved into the stone; most likely built hundreds of years ago for the sole purpose of Transference.

"Are we really in the Qin Isles?" asked Luna.

"I don't know," said Inarhi. "I'm still trying to decide if the witches are crazy."

"I'm pretty sure they're a little crazy."

Lillias and Imelda, who seemed completely fine, waited for the host of witches to recover. It took another ten minutes until everyone had regained their wits. Then, Lillias led the way into a thick forest further inland. Inarhi followed, anxious for more answers as exotic birdsong rang across the green canopies. Distinct, white structures flickered between the thinning trees.

Inarhi stepped into a clearing, revealing five domed buildings.

The group of structures, rich with delicate curves and perfect stonework, were bound together like a huddle of mushrooms of varying heights. The walls were faded and cracked with age. Vines conquered the columns, while small waterfalls surged past them to form a network of rivers. Each building was connected by a web of crumbling bridges, caked with dirt. It was an ancient place.

"Sisters," said Imelda, arms out. "We've arrived at the Osarion."

Inarhi's jaw dropped.

Surely she had misheard. From her readings, the Osarion and the beings who created it were made out to be pure legend. In The Historie and Chronicles of Fosette, the oldest book in Inarhi's collection, the authors mentioned the Osarion only a handful of times. It was supposedly built by the Seskrit, forerunners of the wiccan species, many thousands of years ago before their fall. The authors claimed they knew every truth of the universe. In order to preserve their acquired knowledge, it was said the Seskrit kept it all in the Osarion; an assemblage of libraries. However, the book noted there was never any proof of its existence. Until now.

The Seskrit were real.

Lillias glanced sidelong at Inarhi, eyes half-lidded with suspicion. "We should find what we seek in one of those buildings," she said, obviously trying to read Inarhi's dumbstruck expression. "The secret of resurrection must be located here."

Inarhi regained her composure. "Well, we should hurry and get searching."

Lillias turned her gaze back to the Osarion and walked down the processional path lined with weeds, to one of the bridges. That had been too close. If the witches ever found out Inarhi knew about the Azaleans, then she would give herself away. She was perfectly content letting them think she was a dumb human.

Inarhi, Luna, and the witches made it to the first bridge and crossed it single file, keeping away from the crumbling edges without any problems. They gathered under the imposing shadow and entrance pylons of the Osarion. Lillias turned to face them.

"Everyone!" she called out. "This is a delicate operation. Out of respect to the landmark itself, I can't have every witch comes inside. I shall take ten warriors with me and the rest shall remain here to keep watch."