Chapter 12

Nyx

The Wishing God

Weaving the Path

250 Years Prior

The muddied brown water came up to Nyx's neck and she felt it crust her feet and nose where she floated. She looked around herself, she always tried to look around herself in here but this was al Syriah would let her see. She cursed her sister. Why must it always be so difficult. Nyx released the thread in her hand and watched Titus from where he stood on the dais preaching to her followers below.

Titus looked around for Nyx and spotted her behind him. The Halfling Priest, they had called him at first. Nyx new there moment was soon, she could sense it on the wind. They people were coming to know him as Titus and treat him with more favor than the king. "He speaks to a god." They whispered. "Only he can see her." They said.

The truth was, since their melding in the shroud Titus could always see her and feel her emotions, her desires. He saw her, when no one else could. Something had overcome him since then. His eyes had changed to an almost gold like Nyx's own and his senses seemed to grow stronger. At times she caught the flow of her Essence within him, her magic coursing through his veins.

She had give it to him willingly, despite the small fracture it created within her. She watched him preach to the crowd, to talk of Altherion having turned away when Nyx had stayed. She was drawn forward by a wave of his hand and then sent a gust of wind forth knocking off the hats off those who wore any.

Nyx felt troubled. It had been almost twenty years since she and Titus shared themselves with one and other and the threads of the Tapestry were growing brighter to her. It started a year ago, something had changed in the Shroud when she entered it. It was a sort've glimmer that caught her eye. The thread had always been there but the Weavers had forced her to notice it. When she plucked it up the visions had begun. Small warnings, pieces of a puzzle she couldn't fit together properly.

Her throat began to ache worse in these months than it ever had before. He sisters sadness could be felt throughout her whole body. Something was going to happen to her, but she could not yet tell what.

The Weavers only showed her what would not challenge fate. She worried that even what she knew might change her destiny too profoundly. She pulled free a strange from a man in the crowd who Titus preached to and assured that in a few weeks time his wishes would come true. She granted them all, each one despite some being more mundane than the others. It flooded her with feelings of gratitude to do so.

She loved being admired. He had made it possible for her. As he closed the sermon and turned back to the temple where they would wait for her followers to disperse he looked at her with concern.

Under his breath he asked her, "What troubles you?"

She looked down at her bare feet, "It's nothing." She said.

Titus drew himself away from her followers and into the temple where women shrouded in orange and white robes greeted him. He nodded to them as they bent their necks to him and followed him to his chambers.

Years before Titus had taken over the temple and been selected by the people to hold chambers within. Of course this was no surprise to Nyx. The more he spoke to the people and told them of his ability to commune with her, and their wishes and desires came true, the more they believed. Nyx sighed and sat on the leather chair that sat opposite his grand mahogany desk.

"Any word from my followers?" She asked him. They had begun sending out spies to the furthest reaches of human and elven land in the hopes of finding the girl. So far, they had very few clues and her sister had not revealed any more layers to the prophecy. Perhaps that was because the Original Mother did not reveal any to Syriah which she could pass along. Nyx leaned her back over the arm rest and her ankles over the other kicking out like a child.

"Titus." Nyx questioned for a moment if she should tell him but thought better of it.

"Yes?" He picked up the quill and ink and began to write for the next days sermon.

"Tell me the truth, do you miss Thera?" She asked, remembering the red wish she had set in motion, only to get in the way of.

"Sometimes, but I often wonder if that's me, or the feelings you granted inside of me."

"If I could grant," She looked back at the ceiling, "then they were always there."