Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t think of a way to do so without sounding resentful. Maybe because I was.

“Weaver’s name, Sylina, just speak your mind.” The Sightmother nudged my shoulder affectionately, shaking her head. “It’s no interrogation.”

“I don’t like to give voice to thoughts that don’t deserve it.”

“And I’m sure Acaeja is grateful for your piousness. But humor me.”

My teeth ground, just as they always did, involuntarily, whenever I thought about the shot I was so close to taking and didn’t.

“I could have ended it then,” I said, after a long moment. “I had a clear shot to him. I was going to take it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I disliked when the Sightmother did this—asked questions she already knew the answer to, just to make us say the answers aloud.

“Because Asha commanded that I return.”

“Is that really why you didn’t?”

I paused and turned to her. The Sightmother kept on walking.

“Keep going,” she said. “Why did Asha tell you to return?”

“She felt we were running out of time to flee.”

“That isn’t the only reason.” Now, the Sightmother stopped, too, and turned to me. “The Arachessen only exist to be architects of the fate the Weaver shows us. We are not judges. We are not executioners. We are followers of the goddess Acaeja’s will, and followers of the unknown.”

My cheeks flushed—irritated to have this explained, and embarrassed that the Sightmother, who I so admired, apparently felt it needed to be.

“I know, Sightmother. And I’m committed to that.”

“Oh, I know you are, Sylina. This is why I’m telling you this. Because you’re a committed Arachessen. A committed Sister of the threads. A committed daughter of the Weaver. And I know you have struggled with this. I think for reasons beyond those even you yourself understand.”

“It’s—there is so much suffering,” I said. “It isn’t just about Raeth, or Asha, it’s—”

“It reminds you,” the Sightmother said, “of your own past.”

I was ashamed of the defensive anger that leapt up in me at that.

“With all respect, Sightmother—”

She raised a hand. The movement seemed to erect a wall between us—her presence pushing back against mine. “You do not need to agree with me or argue with me. In the end, it doesn’t matter if you think I’m right or not. You have had a longer life beyond the walls of the Keep than most of the Arachessen. I know that has been difficult for you. In some ways, it has compromised your training—compromises that I’m proud to say that you’ve overcome.”

My face was hot. I didn’t like thinking about this. It had been a long time since I’d had to defend myself against the many accusations that I would never be a good Arachessen because I was so old by the time I got here.

“Your past has instilled in you a strong sense of justice. This makes you a powerful warrior, strong in your conviction. But it also means that you struggle with the reality that there is no good or evil in this world, just as there is no good or evil in us. Only what is Right by the fates.”

I wished I could say she was wrong. I had tried over the years to beat that quality out of myself, the piece that was so obsessed with justice and righteousness. And I’d done a good job of it, for the most part.

There was no moral good or evil. There was only what was fated and what was not. What was Right by the threads our goddess wove, and what was a deviation of what should be. Judging which was which was not our place.

I nearly jumped as a warm hand touched my cheek. The Sightmother’s caress was brief and gentle.

“You have a kind heart, Sylina,” she said. “That is a gift to Acaeja, even if it is, at times, a burden to you. Temper your expectations of this world. But do not dampen your fire. You’ll need it for what’s ahead.”

What’s ahead?

I didn’t need expressions to feel the shift in the Sightmother then, a solemn tinge to her presence.

“What is it?” I asked.

The Sightmother pulled away, resuming her walk. She didn’t answer for a long moment.

“I peered into the darkness last night.”

I faltered.

Peering into the darkness. A phrase to describe the advanced form of seering conducted by the highest ranking of the Arachessen—usually only by Sightmothers. That, then, was why the Sightmother had been absent for the last several days. Peering into the dark was a long, arduous task that left them near-dead to the world for many hours, sometimes days. But the upside was that they came as close as most humans ever would to the gods themselves.

“What did you see?” I asked.

“Acaeja showed me the conqueror. She showed me terrible consequences that would take place if he were to succeed in his task. His actions are not Right. They threaten the realm of Acaeja, and all of the White Pantheon.”

My brows lurched.

That was a strong, strong accusation.

I managed, “How? Why?”

I felt her wry smile. “The Weaver, hearts thank her, is cryptic. She shows me only threads, not the tapestry. But I saw enough to understand her intentions. The conqueror needs to be stopped.” Her brow twitched. “If you’re still regretting that missed shot, you won’t be for long.”

I couldn’t speak for a moment. Then, “You want me to go.”

“I do.”

“But I’m—”

“We need fire, child,” the Sightmother said, simply. “You have it. But if you don’t want the task—”

“I do want it.”

I spoke too fast. Too eagerly.

I had been given many missions during my time as an Arachessen. All of them I executed skillfully, accurately, quietly. I trained twice as hard to make up for my late start, to make up for everything I knew the others would always say about me. And it had been recognized. I had risen through the ranks swiftly, earning respect if not always affection.

Still, these last few weeks… parts of myself I thought I’d long ago discarded had started nagging at me again. I hid it the best I could, but it bothered me to know that the Sightmother had noticed.

I had seen other Sisters be cast out of the Arachessen. Our goddess demanded discipline, distance. Not emotional volatility.

I had been handed a gift in this mission. I would not squander it.

I bowed my head. “Thank you, Sightmother. I accept the task.”

The Sightmother tilted my chin up, lifting my lowered face.

“All deserve another chance,” she said, then looped my arm through hers as we walked together.

“What do you know of the Bloodborn vampires? The House of Blood?”

Arachessen extensively studied all the continents and major kingdoms within them. It was hard to learn about the vampire Houses in much detail because they were so isolated, but we had our ways.