It’s like she doesn’t believe me. Or perhaps she simply knowsbetter than to trust a demon.
“Everyone here has been nothing but kind since my arrival, Lady Ves. If I felt otherwise, I would leave,” she says with a weak smile. “It’s not my past which saddens me. It’s what’s left of my Fate.”
She rises, smoothing her hands over her skirts as she does. My eyes trail after her, watching her as she reaches the door.
As her hand falls upon the gilded doorknob, she says, “I didn’t understand my Fate.” She laughs again, though the sound isn’t meant for anyone other than herself. “But being granted the opportunity to see you, see your weaving so closely… I had no idea leaving Opaltide would hasten my last knot.” She heaves a long sigh. “Nektos hasn’t woven anything for me beyond helping a demon find themselves. And now, I can’t help but wonder what happens to someone who’s reached the end of Nektos’ plans.”
“Is Fate ever finished?” I ask, my voice quiet as I recall Oraphia’s words on the matter days ago.
Raevi smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “No. Her work, like time, continues beyond us, Lady Ves.”
She opens the door.
“The crystal is yours, daughter of death. Its weaving is the other half of yours.” She shakes her head, a hint of a smile curling her lips. “It’s strange. I’ve never seen such a thing. A weaving cleaved so perfectly. Clean. With precision and care,” she says and steps into the hall without a backward glance. “You’ll need to decide whether to mend it or leave it to wither—that’s the knot you currently approach.”
The closing door severs my view of the Fate reader without remorse.
I stare at the door, barely breathing.
Mind blank and body numbed.
Then the words hit me.
Their weight dropped upon my ribs like a boulder.
“Raevi!” I shout, scrambling to rise from the couch. “Raevi, wait!”
My toe catches on the leg of the low table, the obsidian box with the crystal slips over the edge. Panic flares to life in my veins and instinctively my hand darts out, catching the box.
But my thumb grazes the crystal and I’m blinded.
Broken scenes fill my head as the little air in my lungs is squeezed out—too many colors, sounds, and places—all unfamiliar—loop themselves in my mind. Ice grips my heart in a burning clench as I cry out.
But the visions, the images, they don’t clear.
They gain sharpness, focus.
Silver eyes reflecting the night sky—
The ice tightens around my heart and threatens to consume my lungs.
A darkened field blossoms with pops of glowing blue—
The bitter tang of blood fills my throat.
White-feathered wings stretch to their fullest—
The sound of shattering glass echoes in my ears.
Silver blood pools across polished obsidian—
The floor beneath my feetquakes.
Glimpses of a face,my face, surrounded by obsidian shelves come into view before darkness swings shut.
And for a time, there’s nothing.
Comforting.
