Page 66

Morgana

T he acolyte’s cry catches on, shouts about celestial magic rippling through the hall as children and teens jostle to see what’s happening.

Soon one of them will be as bold as the dark-haired girl who murdered Eryx, and I don’t want to stick around to find out which one of them it will be.

Not when this room is filled with hundreds of twin-blessed true believers looking to prove themselves to the bearer now getting to his feet five yards away.

I sprint down the aisle, grabbing hold of Alastor and yanking him toward the exit. My eyes meet Sophos’s for a second as we run past. It is just a second, but it’s enough for me to be baffled by what I see there—not hate or fear like last time, but something stranger.

I’m disappointed to note that my sun beams only burned a hole through his voluminous robes rather than causing any bodily damage. Next time, when I’m not blinded by rage and grief, my aim will be better. But I have to live long enough for there to be a next time.

We stumble out of the sanctuary into the complex, struggling to orient ourselves. We have to get back to the wall we came in over, but the thud of hundreds of people climbing to their feet in the building behind us tells me that won’t be easy.

“Hyllus, we need that diversion,” I call, praying to the gods that the fae is still alive and that he can hear our message.

“We better move before we have company,” Alastor says.

He and I dart between Bastion’s buildings as acolytes pour out of the sanctuary. I hear them spread out, and inevitably a handful of them pick up our trail.

“This way.” Alastor yanks me around a corner just as a flare of fire explodes against the wall in a flurry of sparks. I look around us and realize I have no idea which way the laundry building is.

“We need to get closer to the perimeter,” Alastor pants, reading my mind. “We can trace our way back from there.”

We run for the outer wall, footsteps stomping behind us.

A gust of wind like a battering ram nearly sends me and the codex flying, but Alastor catches me, and I send sun beams shooting wildly over my shoulder.

There are some shouts of alarm in response, and the footsteps grow a little quieter.

I don’t want to kill any of these kids if I don’t have to, but I have to keep them far away enough that they can’t use their magic effectively against us.

We hit the outer wall, and from here I can make out the sounds of battle on the other side. We can’t be far from Harman and the others.

“Hyllus, really anytime now,” I murmur through gritted teeth.

The ground beneath us starts to quiver, and a rumble like thunder fills my ears.

Six acolytes reach the wall behind us. They’re from the group of older teens and are therefore the fastest, but the confusion on their faces makes them look young.

“There!” one of them shouts, pointing out Alastor and me. She steps forward and throws up a hand to conjure some magic, but she’s struggling to maintain her balance on the shaking ground.

“Go right, now ,” Alastor orders, and as we hurl ourselves away from the wall, the ground beneath the acolytes splits open.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Leon use his power on this scale before.

The earth collapses like wet sand, disappearing into a rift about twenty feet wide.

The acolytes plummet downward, their screams drowned out by the groan of the moving earth, but I see the fear on their faces before they vanish into the churning dirt.

I would probably freeze if it wasn’t for Alastor shoving me to keep me moving.

We find the wall again and follow it until we spot the laundry building.

Hauling ourselves up onto the roof, I’m relieved to see the rebels still crouched on the other side.

I toss the codex down to them, and they conjure their magic to help us descend safely.

After that, the plan is that we go straight to a safehouse near Kestis, where we’ll meet the rest of the team.

Just when I’m perched on the top of the wall, about to head down the other side, I look out across the complex.

I can’t see the battle raging outside the walls, but I can see the point where the buildings are shaking and rumbling like a great beast is about to awaken and erupt from the earth.

Leon is there somewhere, alive and well and ripping the ground apart.

It’s enough reassurance for now, and I climb down to the rebels so Alastor and I can go with them to the safehouse.

Leon

Red. Red everywhere. In the swirling crimson of the clerics’ robes, in the blood spilling on the ground, in the flames arcing through the air from the palms of incendi.

The Hand members who provided our intel didn’t know the number of clerics at Bastion, that much is clear, and with the Temple’s twin-blessed forces, the rebels should’ve been slaughtered twice over by now. But my soldiers have been here before, and we Filusians know how to deal with Ethirans.

I block a projectile with my blade, the stone ricocheting off the metal with a clang. I spin and aim for the aesteri who flung it at me. He can’t aim again in time, and I separate his head from his shoulders.

A few feet away, a man laughs uncontrollably, tears of mirth streaming down his face as Damia runs him through. Another woman sobs behind him, gripped by an impossible sadness she doesn’t understand. That sorrow is the last thing she feels as Phaia finishes her.

Ana . I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing. Whether she’s alive or dead. I sent the diversion after Hyllus gave me the signal—but was it enough to save her? My heart thuds as I fight my way through the clerics toward the rebels.

The Hand members have allowed themselves to be driven up against the outer wall, trying to protect Harman, who’s slumped on the ground with a chunk taken out of his shoulder by a particularly nasty geostri spell.

I throw a wave of my own geostri magic toward the clerics bearing down on them, and it reverberates past the wall and into the complex, making the ground groan as buildings shift.

The clerics scatter before the ground can split open, giving me enough room to reach the rebels.

Hyllus is among them, using his size to shield as many as he can.

“What’s happening inside?” I demand. “Why don’t we have news?”

“We do,” Hyllus says. “The codex team sent the second signal. They’re heading home.”

Home . That’s the code for the safehouse where we’ll meet when this is over. It means Ana is safe and away from this mess. It means they probably have the codex too. The mission is done, and we can leave this cursed place at last.

“Retreat!” I bellow to the rebels and my soldiers. “Fall back!”

Hyllus hauls Harman onto his shoulders, and we move as a group, blocking a volley of terrial magic from the clerics as we go. We just need to get up into the foothills, and then we’ll be shielded. This open ground around Bastion’s outer walls is deadly, and a few more rebels fall as we withdraw.

I see Esther in the grass scrabbling to put out a fire on the leg of her pants as a red-robed figure approaches. I dart forward to cover her, only to recognize the face of the cleric stalking toward me.

I lift my blade and bare my teeth.

Sophos .

Morgana

The safehouse is small, a cottage tucked in between two much taller buildings on a street on the outskirts of Kestis. Most people don’t notice it as they pass, their eyes sliding from one large storefront to another, unaware of the secrets kept inside the little house.

Right now, one of those secrets is me, pacing impatiently up and down the dusty kitchen floor.

“Will you please stand still?” Mal groans. “Stomping around won’t make the others arrive any faster.”

“Why aren’t they here yet?” I ask, trying not to sound too panicked. “They shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“There’s many, non-fatal reasons they might have gotten held up,” Alastor says, but I can see on his face he isn’t fully convinced.

It’s not like Alastor to sugar-coat things like this.

The loss of Eryx has hit him hard. After so many years fighting beside each other, I imagine it’s hard to accept that he’s really gone.

“We should go back out there,” I say, wringing my hands. “Go find them.” I don’t think either of us can face the idea of losing anyone else today.

“Absolutely not,” says the rebel with the affinity for rabbits. “Harman told us that once we got the codex, our priority was it and your safety. Neither can leave until he’s here.”

From the stubborn look on her face, it’s clear she won’t accept any arguments. After everything that’s happened today, I really don’t want to fight anyone else. I sag against a kitchen counter, reliving the moment when I turned and saw Eryx’s dead body.

“He didn’t say anything about my safety,” Alastor says.

I look up at him hopefully. The blond fae stands, meeting my gaze.

“I can go and try to find out what’s happened,” he says. “You stay here with the codex.”

“You can’t go on your own,” Mal says, jumping up. “I’ll come with you.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow, but nods. “You do owe me.” He then turns and squeezes my shoulder. “I won’t come back without them,” he says, low enough that only I hear the promise.

I nod, trying to shove down my rising dread at the thought of letting another of my friends out of my sight. The pair go, leaving me with a handful of rebels and the book we’ve fought so hard for. I clutch the codex to me, feeling the grooves where the cord has cut into its ancient leather surface.

Was it worth it? Can Atolus really tell us something that will make losing Eryx acceptable?

There’s only one way to find out.

I slip into a back room of the cottage for some privacy, settling down on the lumpy bed in the corner.

My hands shaking slightly, I untie the cord and ease the heavy book open, reading the first line I see.

The hawk of many faces will fly west when it eclipses the young sun.

I blink at it. Is that a prophecy, or some kind of riddle?

The words are written in black ink, formed with wonky, curling handwriting.

It looks like someone scribbled the thought down in a hurry.

Below it is another similarly cryptic phrase, this time written in blue ink with a different quill, if the splotches on the letters are anything to go by.

Filusia’s hand will shield the traveler’s blessing, though not from Siga’s falling tears.

It goes on like that, pages and pages of strange pronouncements, sometimes using symbols, sometimes obscure names and references to lesser gods.

How could anyone make sense of the meaning, let alone find a specific piece of information they’re looking for?

Fear nags at me as I start to question if we’ve been tricked after all.

Could this really be the source of Caledon’s big, powerful secret? Something worth killing for?

I go to close the book, then my eye spots a gap along the edge—a point where one of the pages has been folded over at the corner. I go to it, spotting the creased edges and slight smudges on the parchment. This page has been handled more often than the others.

One word immediately jumps out at me: Palquir . I rush to read on.

A daughter of Palquir will hide the power of the gods in the land of the crown, where it will grow to untold strength.

I stop breathing, the hairs on my neck standing on end. Unlike the other prophecies, I understand this one perfectly.

Because it’s about me.

The power of the gods—celestial power. A daughter of Palquir—my mother, surely. Elowen was the first daughter to be born in his line after him. And the land of the crown? That must be the royal territories, the ones Caledon was eager to search for this source of celestial power.

Where it will grow to untold strength .

That must’ve tempted Caledon. A deep well of celestial magic, waiting somewhere for him to drain away. He couldn’t resist it, not knowing that the object he sought was me.

Except…Harman said Caledon had stopped looking. That he’d found what he needed. Maybe once Sophos told him I was a solari, it all became clear to him? My mind goes to the library at the Lyceum, Caledon’s black presence staring out at me from Parvus’s eyes.

He didn’t want me dead because Caledon knew I was the subject of the prophecy—the source of celestial power he wanted to claim for himself.

I reach out to touch the words, wondering if they can actually be real. The black ink swims before my eyes.

Just as my skin brushes the paper, the fizz of magic fills the air. I look around for the source, only to find it seems to be coming from the book itself.

The pages rustle, though there’s no breeze, and I immediately shout for the rebels as the codex starts to violently shake in my hands. Hard as I try, I can’t let go. Whatever magic is emanating from the book is wrapping itself around me, binding me to it.

Trap. It was all a trap.

The rebels run into the room. I just have time to meet their eyes before a powerful pulse throbs through me and my vision goes black.