Chapter 8: The History
For a lingering moment, the air between Freya and the Alpha was charged with unspoken tension. His intense and calculating eyes swept over her before locking back onto hers, as if trying to decipher her reaction to his proximity and words.
Freya managed a tight swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze like a tangible pressure. Shifting his attention with a deliberate nonchalance, he gestured toward the table where dinner awaited. "Dinner is ready," he murmured, breaking the momentary spell.
Relieved by the shift in focus, Freya took her seat at the table, with Alpha settling opposite her. As she surveyed the lavish dishes, she realized that, despite the circumstances, she could at least savor the culinary delights of this world—luxuries she'd never experienced back home. But the thought of her parents dining alone pricked at her heart.
She hoped they weren't too preoccupied with worries about her, wishing instead that they were relishing their newfound comfort.
Going ahead, she first sampled the bone broth with her spoon, finding it exquisitely flavorful. The Alpha, however, remained disengaged from the meal, reinforcing his earlier claim of having eaten. A twinge of awkwardness washed over her as she ate alone.
"So, you haven't told me your name," she ventured.
"Garr," he responded simply.
"Does Garr aim to win in this ascendant rite?" She inquired curiously.
Garr paused, his expression clouding. "My people have never been given a fair chance."
Freya's heart sank as she detected the bitterness in his tone. "Because of what you are?" she probed, tearing a piece of the freshly baked bread.
"Yes," he confirmed.
She dipped the bread into her soup, savoring the combination as Garr observed her with a curious intensity.
"Have your people ever won the rite?" she asked softly.
"No," he replied. "And I don't understand why they keep summoning you here when a dragon has claimed victory for centuries. Moreover, the last two healers proved they could not remain impartial, succumbing to the manipulations and temptations of the ascendants. Your gift of chastity is deemed insignificant here, and once you yield to temptation, it loses all its power."
Freya felt a chill run through her at his words. The potential loss of her gift loomed large—a gift that, while not requiring perpetual chastity, demanded that she choose her partner wisely, under the discerning eyes of the Goddess Scythe, who decreed that only those she deemed worthy could join with her chosen.
"The man who unites with you must be truly worthy of such a sacred bond," the Goddess had declared.
Yet, history was littered with healers who had forfeited their gifts by choosing poorly. Freya had sought clarity from the Goddess, but her queries were met with cryptic responses. Many healers had chosen lifelong chastity over risking their powers—a path Freya understood, yet could not fully accept.
So far, Freya had not heard one successful story of a healer who had coupled and also kept their gift. The Goddess's standards for who she deemed worthy were clearly very high and Freya wondered if those standards could even be met or if they were meant to keep the healers chaste forever.
Freya did not want to spend the rest of her life alone. She wanted to find love, a connection with someone but no one had sparked her interest so far. All her friends back home who were her age had at least one child, while she failed to even feel attracted to someone.
Yes, she was aware it was part of the gift, but sometimes it had scared her that she might never find anyone interesting. Well, until she arrived here. Now she had to pray her gift would remain strong because it was here where she truly needed it.
This realm's allure was undeniable and she was curious about the other ascendants. Would they also be as handsome as Roarke and Garr? Now she almost wished they would all be a bit hostile like Roarke. It would be better than whatever Garr had done to her earlier.
She shivered.
"There must be a reason why the dragons have consistently won," she suggested.
Garr scoffed, his disdain evident. "It's all politics. The dragons wield considerable influence in the courthouse."
Freya frowned. "I was under the impression that all species' representatives were equal in the court."
He shrugged, the gesture loaded with cynicism. "That might have been true initially, but dynamics shift when a ruler is elected. Whoever reigns decides the composition of the court, and with dragons holding power for ages, the scales are undoubtedly tipped in their favor."
Freya's resolve hardened. "Well, then that has to change. One of you has to win against the odds so balance is restored..." Unless Roarke was truly worthy of the crown.
Garr's gaze sharpened, his eyes locking onto hers with newfound intensity. "That's precisely why you're here. You're meant to restore balance, but to do so, you must remain impartial."
Freya Nibbled nervously on her bread, feeling the weight of her role. Many relied on her judgement.
"Before this dragon-dominated era, who else won the rite?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Garr fell into a contemplative silence. "The most celebrated is King Pharar, the Phoenix King," he eventually said, his voice carrying a hint of reverence. "He's a legend in our history books. Beloved across all species, known for his charisma and his ability to fulfill promises. Under his rule, this realm flourished like never before."
Freya nodded, listening intently.
"Then there's Ilzeer, the demon king, remembered for entirely different reasons. His reign turned Eldrador into a desolate wasteland—crops withered, hunger was rampant, and his cruelty knew no bounds. Living in Eldrador was said to be like living in the underworld. There's also the Dark Elven King, known as the King of Dusk. He was a famed warrior, who, during times of war, fought fiercely to unite the realm. He was feared and respected."
"You seem to have a rich history here," Freya remarked. "I'd love to learn more. Do you perhaps...have any books on these subjects?"
After their meal, Garr led her to a library within his residence. "Feel free to borrow whatever you need," he offered generously.
Freya was momentarily taken aback by his kindness and she didn't sense any ulterior motives. She quickly perused the history section, selecting two books that detailed the realm's rules and rites. "May I borrow these?"
He nodded in assent.
"Thank you," she said, offering a grateful smile. "I might just finish one before bed."
"You shouldn't stay up too late," he cautioned with a frown.
She chuckled. "I doubt I'll manage much sleep after waking so late."
He conceded with a nod.
As he escorted her back to her room, he wished her a good night.
"Goodnight," she replied, watching his retreating figure. She was still astonished by the size of these men.
Upon entering her room, Freya scaled the grand bed, nestling herself comfortably among the luxurious furs as the rain continued its relentless patter against the windows. She picked the book detailing the history of the rite from her stack of borrowed materials. Though her parents had shared their knowledge with her, she was eager to glean insights from the perspective of those within this realm, to uncover the nuances that had perhaps been lost or altered in the retelling.
What had led these powerful men to doubt her abilities? What pitfalls had previous healers encountered that she might avoid? As the storm raged outside, Freya delved into the pages, searching for answers that might secure her success where others had failed.
***
A/N
Dear Readers,
I am sorry for the extended silence and the delay in updates. After a tough week of my Grandpa being ill, he passed away so I was going through that process and meanwhile time flew by like the wind. But thank you for sticking around and for your patience.
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