One of the several fabled siblings Ves has mentioned.
“And the other?” I ask.
The necromancer heaves a reluctant sigh. “I believe I encountered Darkness the night I metil-akiv.” He shifts in his seat, turning to watch the dancing flames. “At the time, I believedil-akivto be alone in the depths of the Tower. I saw no other with her and felt the draw of the bond.”
“You believed Ves to be your mate?” My brows raise.
The necromancer nods. “For a time, yes.”
A sly smirk curls on Druka’s lips as she settles into her seat, ready to relish in witnessing calamity unfold. At the same time, Cyran unleashes a silent, stern glare upon the necromancer.
Yet no jealousy, no heated anger rises in my chest. Instead, an understanding verging on the cusp of pity grips me. I know, too well, how it feels to hunt for centuries on end.
“I warned him it wasn’t her,” Druka says, lifting a hand to inspect her sharp talons. “Typical fae male. Cen refused to listen.”
Her smile grows more smug.
And she would know. She would know the truth of the matter. Through her demonic channel with Eve, there would be little the succubuswouldn’thave learned about Ves’ life outside the hells.
With a quiet laugh, meeting my stare, Cenviri counters, “Would you trust the words of a demon over what your heart tells you?”
It’s a valid argument.
“He’s already proven he would,” Druka purrs, smiling. “He went as far as marrying the demon.”
Cenviri’s eyes swing to her, set in an unenthused expression. “My point is, I now knowil-akivwasn’t alone that night. Whoever was with her, hiding behind her, was my mate, my Darkness, mycris.”
“Are all the primordials somewhere in the four realms?” Cyran asks.
“It’s possible,” Cenviri answers. “Though the only one who would know for certain is Fate. That being said, Fate, Time, and Judgment have never been seen—not even by the pantheon. Unlike the rest of us, they have never been fractured.”
If they are primordials…elder gods, there are more than eight as originally believed. Including Fate, Time, and Judgment makeseleven. The runes on the armrests of the thrones in Illa Ysari accurately listed the primordials after all.
“How they’ve managed to evade the pantheon for eons is both impressive and terrifying,” Cenviri says, chuckling. “With Aether restored, I wouldn’t be surprised should that change.”
“What happens next?” I straighten myself in my seat. “Are the gods going to hunt us?”
“My friend,” Cenviri flashes a broad smile. “The godshavebeen hunting us. Now we find our ilk and fight for our lives.”
A war of celestial proportions is the last thing the High Council is going to entertain.
The door opens and Zirzol sweeps inside, his face twisted with concern.
“Patriarch, have you looked at the sky?” he asks in Malbolge.
Cenviri gives his First General a pair of dark creased brows ashe rises from his seat. Zirzol breezes past him, making for the curtained balcony door beside the fireplace. He draws back the sheer white material, revealing what should be the night sky an hour before dawn in Cal Anore.
Instead, a soft gold, pulsing glow stems from the left.
“Another makes itself known,” Zirzol says.
“What direction is that?” I ask, pulling myself upright and crossing the room.
Cenviri opens the door and steps into the night.
“Northeast,” he says, not turning away from whatever sight lies beyond Cal Anore.
The lingering chill from veilwalking makes the summer night air feel deceptively cold. Suppressing a shiver, I join Cenviri on the balcony, eyes fixed on the night sky.
