With a flying swipe, the cover snaps shut, and I resist the urge to hurl the book into the creek. Instead, I set it beside me at an arm’s length and cradle my head in my hands. I am not the only damned creature who escaped the hells months ago.
“Lady Ves?” Cyran asks and my eyes race to his. “Are you alright?”
As much as I want to and regardless of how hard the urge hits, I can’t lie.
Not about this.
Fated Celestialsisn’t simply a spelled book. What it knows isn’t confined to the subjects inked on its pages—no.
Nothing so quaint, nothing so harmless.
And I am a fool for not realizing it sooner.
This book can never return to the hells. Not with everything it’s stolen—with everything it now knows. It should be destroyed to keep others safe, to prevent others from touching it.
It was never a defensive curse.
It was a siphoning one.
Oh gods, Ryc.
Ryc has touched it. Eve, Ylara…
How many others have had their whole lives recorded without their consent? Every memory, every thought, every feeling… Whether personal, public, pathetic or proud, they all now sit immortal—ready to be read when requested.
I’m going to have to tell them.
At least Ryc and Eve. They deserve to know.
“Cyran,” I say, and like my fingers, my voice trembles. “Please tell Ryc to find me as soon as he’s able. Tell Eve the same.”
Heightened concern flashes across his face as he hesitates. But, bound by duty and honor, he nods as he pulls himself from the tree. In a glittering swirl of ice, he leaves me alone with one of the most hellish entities Netharis has ever created.
A sophont—a sentient, information stealing demon.
Some damned demon, born with a siphoning innate has had their soul twisted and bound to a book. Of all things to choose,why a book?I’ve heard of chalices, jewelry, weapons—anything a demon may be tempted to pick up.
Not a fucking book.
Netharis leaves them around the hells, learning everything about a demon’s innermost self with as little as an accidental brush. The sophont feeds the information to Netharis when he collects it. I heave a long, tired sigh. I’ve never seen a sophont able to communicate with anyone other than my father.
Reaching, I pitch forward and open the cover, pressing the pad of my finger against the corner of the leather. Immediately the sluggish slithering of the curse tendrils through my bones.
It already knows everything about me.
I’ve nothing left to hide.
But this sophont haseverythingto tell.
“Who left you in the library?” I ask and purse my lips.
Runes appear.
Center of the page.
Vaelyn.
Vaelyn?
