Page 3 of Shadows of the Lost Relic (Vanguard of the Ancients #1)

Chapter 3

Evan

I ’d always been able to see the threads of fate. They were invisible to almost everyone, but to me, and to my brothers, they were as real as the ground beneath our feet. Each thread connected a person to their fate, weaving a complex web of possibilities that stretched into the future. The threads connected people with each other, with objects, places, and times. It was hard to sift through it all. My job was to sever those threads when necessary, to free people from the destinies they didn’t deserve—or, sometimes, to bind them to the ones they couldn’t escape.

But tonight, as I stood in the hallway outside Lyra’s door, I couldn’t see the threads clearly. They were tangled, fuzzy, and difficult to focus on, like they were resisting my attempts to understand them. Like they were trying to keep themselves a secret from me, trying to hide her fate.

After our debrief, I had come back to this hallway. All I had done was stand here and stare at her door. I hadn’t approached her, felt no desire to knock or to talk to her. I was drawn here, like it was a compulsion. She was a puzzle that I needed to work out so I could sleep.

I glanced over at Theo as he joined me, his expression thoughtful as he gazed down the corridor. Kane had gone straight past me and into his room to catch some sleep—he was always the first to crash after a tense encounter. But Theo and I weren’t quite ready to let it go.

“She’s going to be trouble,” Theo said quietly, not taking his eyes off the door.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But she’s here, and I wasn’t sure that was going to happen.”

Theo nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was touch and go for a while there.”

We stood in silence for a few moments, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I was still trying to untangle the mess of threads that surrounded Lyra, trying to make sense of the future that was unfolding before us. But the more I tried to pull them apart, the more they twisted and knotted themselves. They were deliberately trying to keep me in the dark, actively fighting me. I could have asked Theo, he was the one who could see the future after all, but this was a puzzle I needed to work out myself.

It was frustrating. I wasn’t used to this kind of uncertainty. Usually, I could see the paths clearly, could trace the lines of fate with a precision that allowed me to make quick, clean cuts when needed. But Lyra’s fate wasn’t cooperating. It was slippery, elusive, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was being influenced from the outside.

Finally, Theo sighed and pushed away from the wall. “We should get some rest. We’ll need to be on our game tomorrow when she meets Cas. There is a chance he drives her away, you know. She wouldn’t be the first.”

“You go ahead,” I said, the door still the only thing I could focus on. “I think I’ll stick around for a bit.” He was right about Cas. I didn’t need to agree with him out loud for him to know it.

There was a reason our fourth team member rarely came out into the field with us, and it wasn’t only because he preferred to be in his workshop. Cas didn’t like people, and he didn’t like conversation. Hell, I was pretty sure he didn’t like sunlight.

Theo gave me a knowing look, but didn’t argue. He knew me well enough to know it wouldn’t do any good. It was the peril of the three of us being as close as we were. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said. “We’ll need you sharp.”

I nodded absently, already half-lost in the threads again.

Theo hesitated for a moment longer, then turned and headed down the corridor, leaving me alone. Alone with the threads. Alone with my thoughts.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and let the world around me fade away. In the darkness behind my eyelids, the threads slowly appeared as glowing strands of red light that stretched out in every direction, each one representing a different path, a distinct possibility. I focused on the ones connected to Lyra, trying to get a clearer picture of what lay ahead. The past was always easier to read, but right now, I needed to know about the future.

At first, the threads resisted. They tangled themselves together like a ball of yarn in the hands of a mischievous cat. But I persisted, slowly unraveling the small sections I could see, teasing apart the knots until I could see some of the individual strands more clearly.

There were so many of them. Too many. More than I’d ever seen connected to a single person before. It was as if Lyra’s fate was in constant flux, shifting and changing with every breath she took. They connected to more and more people and places at every moment.

No wonder Theo had been so unsettled by her. I could feel it too—the uncertainty, the unpredictability of her future. But it went deeper than that. Her fate pulsed with a strange, almost magnetic energy.

I followed a thread, tracing it into the future. I wanted to get a sense of where it led, but every time I thought I had a handle on it, the thread slipped away, branching off into a dozen different directions, each one leading to a different outcome.

One thread showed Lyra was fighting by our side, a fierce warrior who had fully embraced her place here with the Vanguard. In another, she was walking away from us, her expression cold and determined as she disappeared into the shadows, leaving us—and the Vanguard—behind. In yet another, she was standing alone in the middle of a ruined city, Pandora’s Box glowing ominously in her hands.

I frowned, trying to focus, trying to see which of these threads was the strongest, the most likely. They were all so tangled, so intertwined with each other, that I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. It was like trying to follow a single thread through a spider’s web—impossible to do without getting caught in the sticky strands. The future was Theo’s purview, not mine, and it was fighting me.

I was so deep in my thoughts that I almost didn’t hear the door open in front of me. Almost.

My eyes snapped open just in time to see Lyra step into the hallway, her expression guarded but curious. She had changed out of her black thief’s suit into a simple pair of jeans and a Vanguard trainee t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. I was glad the extra clothes we had put in her room fit her. Theo had guessed her size from his visions, and he had a good eye.

She had her backpack over her shoulder and a pair of sneakers on.

Not exactly sleep-wear. She looked younger like this—less like the hardened thief who had been ready to fight her way out of the museum, and more like a regular girl who had just been caught way over her head.

Of course, she noticed me immediately. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in my presence. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, her voice low and cautious.

I couldn’t blame her for her reaction. She probably thought we were treating her like a prisoner, making sure she didn’t go anywhere we didn’t want her to. While we didn’t trust her enough to let her wander around the facility alone, I wanted to.

I shrugged, pushing away from the wall as I turned to face her fully. “Something like that.” I could have asked her the same question, or accused her of trying to sneak out, but I wasn’t in the mood for an argument right now. It would be two steps backwards when we needed to make moves forward.

She studied me for a moment, her gaze sharp and calculating. She had my measure in seconds, and I had never felt so seen. “You’re the quiet one,” she said finally. “Evan, right?”

“Right,” I confirmed, feeling a slight pang of surprise that she remembered my name. Then again, Lyra wasn’t the type to forget anything. She was too observant for that. We had a file on her, but I was sure she had made a mental one of her own all about us.

“What are you doing out here?” Her question was much more to the point. No more social graces. Her arms crossed over her chest, closing off her body language. It wasn’t a defensive gesture, not exactly—it was more like she was testing me, trying to see how I would respond.

“Just thinking,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “There’s a lot to process.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the answer. “You’re not a very good liar.”

I couldn’t help but smile. There was no slipping things past her. “No, I’m not. I’ll let you in on a secret: None of us are.” We could obfuscate or speak in riddles. But actual lies? Fate didn’t lie. We had all been terrible at it since we were children. Our trainers had used it against us on more than one occasion. I was surprised Theo had gotten away with the lie earlier that we would let her walk away if she wanted to.

She watched me for a moment longer, then sighed and leaned back against the wall, her posture relaxing slightly. “Okay, so what’s really going on? You’ve been staring at that door for the last ten minutes. What are you looking for?”

I hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her. How did she know I was out here for so long? The look in her eyes—the guarded curiosity, the hint of vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide—made me decide to be honest.

“I was trying to get a sense of your future,” I admitted. “To see where your path might lead.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t look away. Surprise, but not fear. A curious response. “And? Did you find anything?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Your future is complicated. There are a lot of possibilities, a lot of different ways it could go. It’s hard to pin down.”

She frowned, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “You can see the future, right? That’s your power?”

I shook my head again, even though it was a much more complex answer than yes or no. “I can see the threads that connect people to their fates. Seeing into the past is easiest for me. Seeing where they’ve been makes it easier to follow those threads to where they might go. Theo’s the one with the visions. The future is his domain, but the future is never set in stone. It’s always changing, always shifting. And with you… it’s like the threads are constantly moving. I can’t get a clear picture.”

She was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “So, you don’t know if I’m going to stay or not.”

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t.”

She nodded slowly, as if she had expected that answer. “Good,” she breathed. “I enjoy keeping people on their toes.”

That got a chuckle from me. “I bet you do.”

Another silence fell between us, but this one wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a pause, a moment for both of us to gather our thoughts before we dove back into the conversation.

Finally, Lyra spoke again, her voice softer this time. “You know what sort of Scion I am, but you haven’t told me what you are. What your brothers are. I’m guessing it has to do with time.”

It was true. We hadn’t been the most forthcoming with information. It was a habit; we weren’t hiding anything from her out of malice. Work in the Vanguard was very compartmentalized. Information, even more so. People were only told what they needed to know, so when information got out, we could contain it easily enough. Not to mention, Theo and I rarely socialized outside of our trio. Kane was more social than us, but his idea of socializing was making poor decisions. Even bringing Caspian into things was difficult for us, but both Theo and I knew how important he was to our work. The perspective and skill he brought to our team was invaluable.

“I guess we got so far ahead of ourselves with the tour and trying to convince you to stay, we forgot to tell you about ourselves. We’re Scions of the Moirai. The Fates. We’re triplets.” I wasn’t sure which piece she found more surprising. We were fraternal, not identical, so most people assumed we were brothers, but our bond went deeper than that. We were all tied together; the strings of fate bound us just as tightly as our blood bond.

“Well, I guess that explains the visions and the threads thing you were talking about. And how you found me at the museum. How did you hold me in place, though? What does that have to do with fate?” Curiosity clouded her tone, like we were a problem that she was trying to solve.

Her question made me smirk. I wasn’t ready to give away all of my secrets yet, though. Partly because I enjoyed having them. It was hard to keep secrets from my brothers, and I didn’t enjoy thinking about the other possibility. If things went badly, I might have to use those powers against her again. I didn’t want her to have any sort of advantage.

She raised her eyebrows when I didn’t answer, but she wasn’t going to get the information out of me. Her eye roll made me smile. It lightened the tension that had descended over the conversation.

Huffing out a sigh, she ran a hand over her dark purple hair. “What do you think I should do?”

The question caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected her to ask for my opinion, especially not so directly. The vulnerability in her voice was real, and it made me realize just how much she was struggling with everything that had happened tonight.

“I think you should stay,” I said honestly. “I think you should give the Vanguard a chance. You’re right—power is power, and everyone has their own agenda. But the people here, they’re good people. They want to make a difference. And I think you could be a part of that. You could flourish here. Find somewhere you belong.”

She didn’t respond right away; her gaze was distant as she considered my words. I could see the conflict in her eyes, the push and pull of everything going on.

“You’re afraid,” I whispered, not as an accusation but as an observation.

Her eyes snapped back to mine, her expression hardening. “Of what?” Her arms crossed over her chest, everything about her closing off. It felt like I had lost every inch of ground I had made.

“Of letting people in,” I said. “Of trusting them. You’ve been on your own for so long, you’ve learned to rely only on yourself. But that kind of life, it’s lonely. And I think you’re tired of being alone.”

She stared at me, her expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought I had overstepped, that she was going to shut down completely and push me away.

To my surprise, she sighed and looked away, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I am.”

The honesty in her words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t realized how much she had been carrying, how heavy the burden of her isolation had become. It made me want to reach out to her, to offer her some kind of comfort, but I knew better than to push too hard. If we tried to move too fast, she’d run, and we’d never get her back. All our work would have been for nothing. I had to be careful, even if it meant ignoring instincts I would normally trust.

I tried to reassure her. “Staying doesn’t mean giving up your independence. It just means you don’t have to carry everything on your own. You can still be strong, still be yourself. But you’ll have people around you who care about you, who want to help.”

She didn’t respond, but I could see the words sinking in, could feel the threads of fate shifting as she considered my words. It was a slight change, a subtle shift in the weave of fate, but it was there.

“Look,” I continued, “I know you don’t trust us. I get that. You have no reason to yet. Just give us a chance. Give yourself a chance. You might find that it’s worth it.”

Lyra was silent for a long time, her eyes fixed on the floor as she processed everything I had said. The moment dragged on, tension hanging between us before finally, she looked up at me, her expression guarded but not completely closed off.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, her voice steady.

It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. That was enough for now. And she wasn’t still trying to sneak out of her room. Maybe she had been planning on looking around, but I was sure that if she found a chance, she would have been off before any of us realized.

Things felt different now, different even than when she had been talking to Theo.

“Good,” I said, giving her a small smile. “That’s all we can ask for.”

She nodded, then pushed away from the wall and turned to head back to her room. Before she reached the door, she paused and looked back at me, her expression curious. “Why do you care so much? Why does it matter to you whether I stay or go?”

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer that. There were a lot of reasons—some practical, some personal. All of them related to the threads. In the end, it all came down to one simple truth. “Because I believe in you,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I believe you can make a difference. And I think… I think you’re worth fighting for.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I saw a flicker in her expression, a raw vulnerability. She quickly masked it, giving me a curt nod before turning back to her door. “Goodnight, Evan,” she said in a small voice.

“Goodnight, Lyra,” I replied.

She disappeared into her room, closing the door softly behind her. I stood there for a moment longer, letting out a slow breath as I felt the tension of the evening begin to fade.

I turned and headed into the suite I shared with my brothers, my mind already shifting back to the threads, to the possibilities that lay ahead. The threads were still tangled, still uncertain, but there was a new energy to them now—a sense of purpose, of potential.