Why was there no record of Moira’s death?
“Cas?”
“Jesus!” I gasped, nearly dropping Elena’s book as Salwa’s voice reached my ears.
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I giggled, my hand hovering over my fluttering heart. “It’s okay. I was just a little focused.”
Her eyes fell on Elena’s book in my hand. “Ah, you’re reading about your past lives.”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to remember anything I can. Some memories of Elena and Lucia have resurfaced, but I can’t seem to regain any memories of Moira.”
I turned back to the case, settling Elena’s book back in. I lifted my hand to close the lid, but I stopped. Salwa was the Tabularius. She might know why information regarding Moira’s death was missing.
“Hey…” Salwa perked, tilting her head to me. “I couldn’t help but notice there’s no information on Moira’s death. It just leaves off at Matthias being destroyed.”
Salwa’s eyes flickered, and she drew a deep breath. “We don’t know exactly what happened to Moira.”
My brows furrowed. “No one knows?”
“There’s only one person who knows what happened, and I’ve never been able to get him to tell me.”
Something stirred within me, my heart dipping as something icy crawled over my skin, settling into the pit of my stomach. “Who knew?”
Salwa lifted her pale eyes to me, dulled with sorrow. “Damien.”
58
CASSIE
Ilay curled up against Damien the following morning, the sun barely peaking over the ridge of the distant mountains, his warmth surrounding me. I couldn’t believe I was awake; I hadn’t been able to wake up this early for the last couple weeks, sleep holding me in its clutches until late morning or early afternoon most days.
Salwa’s words lingered in my thoughts. What had happened to Moira when Matthias attacked? What did Damien know? The way the text described it, it was as if Moira had just... vanished.
I’d wanted to ask him, but if he hadn’t even opened up to Salwa, their race’s historian, it must’ve been terrible. When he’d arrived to pick me up from Selene’s temple the night before, I couldn’t bring myself to ask him. I’d wanted to tell him about my conversation with Selene, about how the astral sprites helped me read the books, but I’d been so tired. I didn’t have the energy, and he’d had to carry me home—didn’t even remember making it to bed.
His chest rose and fell in a fluid motion as he slept, the soft pump of his heart a steady beat threatening to lull me back to sleep. There was so much I wanted to do, so much I wanted to see, so much I wanted to tell him. I wanted to experience everything with him, wanted to hear him say those vows he’d said when were mated before, the words he’d shared with me just a few months ago.
Then it hit me, realization sinking like gravel into the pit of my stomach, and my excitement drained from every inch of my body. Time was running out, and we were no closer to knowing how to destroy Melantha. I knew I wouldn’t be able to help them fight the darklings or defend the city. Would they be able to defeat Melantha without me? We’d barely destroyed her before when I was an immortal demigoddess. Would they fail? Would she annihilate them?
God, I wanted so badly to enjoy what little time we had left, but would the price of that bit of time be the lives of thousands? Millions?
Would the price be Damien’s life?
The thought of Damien falling to the darklings terrified me. Vincent, Anna, Zephyr, Calista, everyone. If we didn’t destroy Melantha, if I couldn’t help them, the immortals might fall. If there were no immortals to keep the threat of the darklings at bay, would they spread across the state? The country? God, their numbers grew so quickly, that they could rise up and destroy... everything.
Melantha wanted to convert me into a darkling to serve her. If I went in search of her, would she find me? How would I destroy her before she could turn me? I hadn’t been able to use my magic since the attack on The Complex; the only ability that didn’t seem to take a toll on me was my Nous ability, as it didn’t use nearly as much magic. Damien feared it still affected me, so I’d used it sparingly.
How could I defeat Melantha if I couldn’t use my magic without putting too much strain on my heart?
I couldn’t.
A sigh slipped from my lungs, my body sagging in defeat. I wouldn’t walk away from it—I couldn’t afford to walk away, couldn’t allow her to turn me into a darkling. My eyes drifted back to Damien, his face peaceful as he slept. I didn’t have much time left, but I could buy them more.
If I had to, I’d bring Melantha down with me to ensure he lived on until I could find him again.
Telos Pyrai...Flame’s end.
