No, of course not.
We’d be incriminating ourselves.
“This will have to wait until we ascend,” Ryc says, sighing.
Eve, standing beside the throne to my right, points to the armrest. “There are runes here,” she says. “Ones I don’t recognize.”
“What?” I swing in her direction.
She taps a finger to the stone. “Eleven of them. And I don’t know a single one.” She pauses, trailing her finger toward the end of thearmrest. “Wait… I lied. I know this one.”
I stare at the rune carved into the moonstone beneath her finger and the air evaporates from my lungs. It’s the same rune I’ve spent hours scouring pages for—the same rune inked on my mother’s wrist.
“How is Celesta involved with the High Rulers?” Eve asks as I struggle to grasp at racing thoughts.
I lack a feasible answer.
“I know this one,” Ryc says, pointing to another farther up the line. “Life,” he says softly.
“You… you can read it?” I ask, sounding incredulous.
“Yes?” he sounds as confused as I am. “Though the others remain foreign. But that one… that one resonates in my blood.”
Could that be Gaia’s influence?
If so, could one denotedeathand would I be able to read it?
I scan the line and pause. Near the center of the string one runedoesstand out. And as Ryc mentioned, its meaning sears from the depths of my being. I know it, witheverythingI am.Somehow.
“Aether,” I whisper, leaving a lingering finger upon the rune.
Eve’s ice blue eyes volley between Ryc and me. “What do you mean,Aether?” she asks, her tone sharp.
“This one is Aether,” I say, working my lips into a flat line.
Aether and not death.
“The names of the primordials then?” Cyran asks as he studies the same sequence of runes carved into the other armrest.
I shake my head. “There are too many.”
“Should only be eight,” Eve adds in agreement.
The first few lines on the first page ofThe Elder Mythosring in my head. It’s an easy way to remember each of the entities.
Life yearns for the touch of Aether,
Death draws the comfort of Darkness,
Order stands tall beside Light,
Chaos screams in the void of Nether.
With an ear piercing cry the raven takes flight. In a low swoop, it glides across the room, vanishing through the open doors in therear of the tower. Another cry sounds, and the undeniable urge to follow takes hold in my chest.
My gaze lingers on the open doors.
If it truly is a familiar… I’d like to know where it’s guiding me before I find myself amid chaos.
