Page 27

Bria

W hen I arrive at the graveyard, I’m surprised to see Cato already there, and not alone.

The young man beside him is tall and slim, covered in lean muscle.

He looks enormous standing next to the hunched old man.

I imagine I will probably look like a child standing next to him.

Gods he has to be Quinn’s height, at least six foot three, if not taller.

And to my measly five foot two, he feels like a giant.

As I near, I can see the familiar burning in his eyes.

My own have a touch of flames, but this boy’s eyes almost glow with magical fire.

The searing blue is outlined in a burning white ring.

I marvel at how the villagers were able to keep him hidden for the last year.

It’s impossible to look at him and not see the magic within.

I smile at him, a genuine expression of my happiness at being around another individual with power.

The only person I’ve been near with any magic for the last five years has been Cato.

I can feel the heat, the energy emanating from him, and it makes my heart squeeze uncomfortably.

That feeling, I’ve missed it so much it fucking hurts.

Both of my parents descended from magical bloodlines, my father from Lilith and my mother from Kiara.

The sisters of dark and light. Though not actual sisters, the two goddesses were cleaved by the ultimate god, Uldnoir.

Their bloodlines haven’t been difficult to trace as none ever bore more than one child.

None until my parents. It made it easier to spot that Nimai and I could possibly be the children of the prophecy.

My parents worked very hard to keep their magic hidden over the years, but there was no way to contain that energy, the celestial vigor that smoldered within.

At least not when you were around another who also burned with magic.

The fact that my parents had even met was astonishing.

Pulled together by fate, their paths in life intertwined with one another.

I wonder if they would have done anything different, had they known—known that the fierce love that they felt for one another would result in the children of the prophecy.

That their own flesh and blood would be cursed from the day they were born.

“I believe you’ve heard about Silas by now,” Cato sings out when I approach, the excitement uncontained in his voice.

I can’t help but grin in amusement at his eagerness. “Indeed, I have. It’s a pleasure, Silas,” I say, extending my hand to the boy in a welcoming gesture.

Heat radiates up my arm when he touches my skin, and I still. Magic . I watch as Silas does the same, his eyes widening, the white-blue overtaking them in an otherworldly glow. Energy wells up inside him, an innate response to the power in me.

Cato chuckles at the boy’s expression. “Powerful, isn’t she?”

“Y-yes,” Silas stammers, still holding my hand in his own, his eyes boring into me.

Cato watches the interaction with some sort of rapt fascination, his lip twitching. “Yes,” he cackles. “This will do just fine.”

I tear my hand free of Silas’s grip, to his clear dismay. He looks crestfallen at the loss of contact, and I turn to Cato, questioning the peculiar comment.

“What will do just fine? What the fuck are you talking about, Cato?” He has a reason for bringing Silas here, that much I understand.

A reason to let him know just who and what I am.

And I deserve to know that reason. He seems too thrilled at the energy radiating from us, at the spark that ignited with our touch.

I cross my arms as I wait for a reply, feeling an odd urge to be closer to Silas, to touch his warm skin again. To feel that rush of energy.

Cato sucks his teeth before responding, as if weighing the benefit of telling me.

“The mouth on you,” he says finally, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated expression.

“As you are aware, dear Prophecy” —I grit my teeth at the expression but bite my urge to mouth off and let the old man continue—“this is the last day I can spend with you. I must depart tomorrow to be with your sister.”

“I’m aware,” I spit, impatiently waiting for the geezer to get to the point already.

He smirks at the irritation growing and spreading across my face.

“Ahhh, how I will miss your temper. And that sharp tongue.” He’s just prodding now, trying to get a rise out of me.

“You have mastered the bones nicely, young Bria. But due to your...ethics” —he waves his spindly fingers out toward me as if hurling the word as an insult—“we have been unable to see your true potential.”

I set my face in what I imagine is a very sour expression. “We have already talked about this,” I snarl.

Silas is still staring at me with what appears to be anger flaring in his icy blue eyes. Is he angry with me? No. That can’t be it, there is no way he could be angry at me. He’s just met me.

Cato notices it as well. “Delightful,” he mutters, intertwining his long, crooked fingers with apparent glee.

I plaster a confused expression on my face.

“He’s already picking up on your emotions.

He’s young enough and novice enough in his powers that making a connection will be easier than if he had years of training under his belt. ”

When I glance over at Silas, I can see my confusion mirrored in his expression. He’s experiencing anger because I am. And that doesn’t make any sense.

Cato pushes forward with his explanation.

“Bria, as much as you do not want to admit it, you are the most powerful woman to walk this earth since Lilith. You exude an energy unlike any other.” He points to Silas.

“He can feel it, can sense that, and is drawn to you.” A flush bursts across Silas’s young face at the indication.

“Others will as well, and you can strengthen them.”

This is definitely not what I expected. Though, I assume this new attribute can assist me in rescuing those with magic, those ill-fated souls rotting away in the dungeons of the castle. If I can strengthen them, I may have a chance at helping them after all.

As understanding blossoms in my face, Cato’s skin, deep with the grooves of time, wrinkles up in a sly smile. “And he can feed your power,” he adds.

“What?” I’m unable to contain my surprise at this notion. The old man is senile, I’m sure of it now, because he knows how I feel about this. So forgetting this key detail, in his ripe old age as the first man in existence, is the only explanation for his massive lapse in judgement right now.

“Your energy stores are depleted after raising one skeletal warrior. How exactly do you plan to fight off an entire army?” He tosses the question out there, knowing full well I have no chance of answering it.

I can’t fight off an army. Even if I can strengthen the prisoners, the rebels don’t come from magic, at least not any of the ones in the northern camp. I have no ability to protect them, to give them aid in battle other than the shadows and bones.

Cato is happy to answer his own lingering question.

How the old crow loves to hear himself talk.

“You’re going to pull energy from him. Let him feed the fire within you so that you can raise more dead, cast more shadows.

Do more .” Silas’s brows shoot up at this.

Clearly, Cato had not fully informed the young man of his expectations prior to this meeting.

I begin to shake my head, golden locks falling over my shoulders and shimmering in the sunlight. “I don’t—” I start, but Cato holds up a hand in protest.

“You must ,” he says tersely. “Or we shall all perish, dear Prophecy. I’ve indulged your refusal long enough.

” His eyes are colder now, quietly conveying that there is no choice in this matter.

I have a momentous job, more so than any other on this earth aside from my sister.

“It is important you learn how to feed your energy stores appropriately,” he finishes, surveying my face for understanding.

I steady myself, drawing up to my full height and flicking my gaze to Silas. He looks a bit shocked, his face contorting as he tries to keep up with the conversation, tries to understand exactly what is about to happen to him. I wish I knew more so I could warn him.

Appropriately . I worry what he means by that part.

I give Cato a curt nod—a slight, almost imperceptible movement, but he registers it, his mouth turning up once more in a fiendish grin.

“Wonderful!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together at securing my commitment to the task. “We don’t want you killing the boy, after all,” he says lightly with a toss of his hand toward Silas.

Silas throws his gaze toward me, apprehension flashing into those icy blue eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, old man!” I yell, wanting to scowl at Cato but trying instead to keep my face warm and inviting as I look back at Silas.

I reach my hand out to him again and he grabs it, tentatively this time.

“I’m not going to kill you, don’t let this old fool scare you.

” I let the burning in my core well up and pour out of me, releasing a rush of heat down my arms, into my fingertips, and letting it curl around his hands.

Silas’s face relaxes almost immediately, and he straightens his back, nodding to me.

His hand grips mine so hard I have to hold back a wince.

I thoroughly hope Cato knows what he is doing. I really don’t want to kill this magical man I’ve just met.