Page 50 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

“And this marking faded,” Malik Sindire says, “right after Celedan’s destruction? And then it returned and spread?”

“It’s now up to here.” Elyn points to her wrist bone.

“And according to Agon the Kindness,” Malik Sindire says, “Selenova at her fullest will galvanize the mark’s full power?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you why?”

We both shake our heads. “Do you know the reason?” Elyn asks.

Malik Sindire looks up at us, his face flushed. “Linionium,” he declares. “It must be.”

“The mallet that Agon used to destroy Celedan Docci was made of linionium,” I say.

“Correct.” Malik Sindire shakes his head. “The ink used in Jadon Rrivae’s marking was infused with linionium, which derives from the very element Supreme used to create the first realm. That ink is indestructible.”

“Even against our swords?” Elyn asks.

“Catherite,” Malik Sindire says, “was the second element that created the first realm, and the metal used by the Yeaden to craft the weapons of the gods. Not linionium. And there’s a reason: only linionium can destroy linionium.”

“But what if we were to forge weapons from linionium to counteract the linionium in Danar Rrivae’s amulet or in Jadon’s marking?” Elyn asks.

I press my fingers against my forehead. “Forging one sword of linionium can take half an age,” I say. “It’s unforgiving. Willful. Only the hottest fire on Linione Realm can coax it to bend. There’s no time to forge linionium blades.”

Elyn crumples back into her chair. “So we’re gonna die.”

Malik Sindire gasps. “Giving up already, Lady Fynal? The greatest battles don’t happen only on battlefields.

I’m not concerned with facing the traitor with blades and spells.

What’s most worrisome is…” He picks up Elyn’s drawing of Jadon’s tattoo.

“The linionium ink used to create this beautiful mark…makes him the most dangerous, most powerful weapon in the realm.”

The old man peers at Elyn and then at me. “Destroying Celedan Docci simply transferred his linionium to the closest source of power.”

“Are you saying that Celedan was made of linionium?” I ask, brows furrowed.

“Come with me.” Malik Sindire leads Elyn and me to his office, a dim space with true walls of stone rather than glass. The only illumination here comes from a single candle on his desk and a few shafts of pale light from the narrow skylight.

We stand at his desk covered with scrolls and ink-stained quills. The air smells of aged paper and incense; the walls are lined with shelves filled with books, faintly pulsing crystals, small glass vials filled with mysterious liquids, and artifacts that gleam with a light all their own.

The Dindt opens a thick, brown, leather-bound book with a cover embossed in intricate symbols faded from constant touch.

The paper within the tome is aged, thin, and fragile.

The ink, though, has remained dark and sharp, and the text is written in fine, precise script.

These words will survive even after the parchment disintegrates.

The pages are also filled with vibrant and detailed sketches of gods, spirits, and creatures from throughout the Aetherium.

Some of the beings drawn here are graceful, their forms almost ethereal, while others are terrifying, with jagged, inhuman features and wings that span two pages.

It’s strange how the eyes of these drawings seem to watch us as we peer at them.

These lines and arcs make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Malik Sindire continues to flip through the pages of this odd book. Each time he turns a page, I shiver. That naperone with its crocodile-like scales and lion-like head looks like it could step off of its page and into this room.

Uneasy, I comment, “Any minute now, I’d expect to see our faces in this book.”

Elyn snorts.

“Oh, you’re in here somewhere,” Malik Sindire says absently.

“What?” Elyn says, eyes hot.

Malik Sindire doesn’t stop to show us our entries.

“Neither of you are ordinary gods from ordinary families. Why wouldn’t you be recorded in a book like this?

” He keeps turning pages. More gods and creatures, ethereal and graceful, delicate and light, monstrous, with eyes that stare right through me.

He’s right: this is no ordinary book.

“Did you write or curate this compendium?” Elyn asks.

“Do the identities of the authors matter, Lady Fynal?”

Elyn frowns. “Yes. Not every god is a reliable narrator. Not every god is a scholar—”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” I say to Malik Sindire, “but we don’t have time for a lesson right now on alchemy and literature—”

“Here we are.” Malik Sindire stops at an inked depiction of a prune-faced man with translucent wings. He wears a simple loincloth, and his skin is entirely covered with letters and symbols of the Onama.

“Him,” Elyn says.

“He’s the reason we’re in this mess,” I say, my blood chilling.

“Do you want to know why that is,” Malik Sindire asks, “or do you want to rush ahead and end the realm sooner rather than later?”

He pauses, then says, “Celedan Docci from the order Onama. You asked if he was made of linionium. Not exactly . Docci was filled with so much knowledge that his spine started to crack. The Council feared his loss, and the Onama healers arrived at a solution: fuse the Keeper with linionium. They also ‘retired’ him into the gem, WISDOM, which is why he volunteered to accompany Lady Megidrail’s edition of the Librum Esoterica to Vallendor.

He thought he’d live a long life with his new spine, on this new realm with the lovely Lady, sharing his knowledge with the dashing new king, Syrus Wake.

“But then he saw just how important his role was—Wake consulted him all the time but had grown disillusioned with knowledge that anyone could soon attain. So Celedan Docci called on Danar Rrivae. But that didn’t keep Docci in the room.

The young Corby woman stole the Librum from the library at Castle Wake.

“But then you found the book and Celedan Docci, and Agon destroyed WISDOM with him inside of it-. Agon destroyed Docci’s body, which was filled with linionium. Wake Rrivae was standing in the aerie, and Celedan Docci’s spent power found more linionium in his hand to bind to.”

“Had Jadon not been in the room…” Elyn says.

“The linionium powder would’ve simply diminished in time,” Malik Sindire says.

And now, it’s my turn to rub my face and say, “So we’re gonna die.”

“Kai, don’t,” Elyn says.

I throw up my hands. “Don’t you get it? That…” I point at the drawing she made of Jadon’s marking. “That ink will spread until Jadon’s covered completely—he will be lost to us. If Jadon is killed, all that linionium will bind to the closest living source, which most likely will be…”

“Danar Rrivae,” Malik Sindire says, “who wears TERROR, the gem of crystalized linionium. The marking on Jadon Wake Rrivae’s hand—not Miasma—makes him the weapon.”

“What are we about to face?” Elyn asks.

“Either Wake Rrivae saves himself by doing what his father wants,” Malik Sindire says, “or he chooses the most difficult task: he kills the next source of power and the holder of the amulet—Danar Rrivae. But that practically guarantees Wake Rrivae’s own death even though he’d save Vallendor.

He’s only a demigod. While Danar Rrivae could handle the total infusion of linionium, his son cannot.

And since the light of Selenova at her fullest will only increase the power of linionium… ”

“Jadon dies in every scenario,” I whisper, my legs weak. No.

Malik Sindire wanders over to the window to gaze up at the darkening sky. “When given the choice by his father, Jadon Wake Rrivae will choose to save himself.” He turns back to Elyn and me, his face inscrutable. “When faced with such decisions…all men choose themselves.”