“Undoubtedly.” I move through the door, letting the shadows carry me into the entrance hall, where Nyssa is pacing like a caged animal. The illusion Dastian cast is flickering at the edges now, reality bleeding through in patches of rot and decay. She doesn’t seem to notice.
“Right,” she announces as we file in. “Since we’re all here and apparently invested in keeping me alive long enough to fetch your shiny crown, I have questions.”
“Shocking,” I mutter.
She ignores me, ticking points off on her fingers. “One: Why does the crown have ‘wraith’ in the name? Two: If you lot are so bloody powerful, why do you need me at all? Three: What aren’t you telling me about this Devourer thing? And four—” She pauses, her amber eyes locking onto mine with unsettling intensity. “Why do I get the distinct impression that you’re hiding something that’s going to get me killed?”
The silence that follows is deafening. Voren shifts his weight. Dastian suddenly finds the crumbling ceilingfascinating. I hold her gaze, weighing my options. The truth will fracture whatever fragile alliance we’ve built. A lie will only delay the inevitable.
“It is called the Wraith Crown, because the Wraith King forged it. Many millennia ago. No relation to Voren, in case you are wondering. Kings and gods are two entirely different things.”
“So how does a kingly crown become a divine artefact?”
“The Wraith King, as suggested, was a wraith. An immortal being that ruled over the dead here on earth. Voren is the Wraith god, who rules over all.”
“Yet they are separate?” she asks with a frown.
“Yes. It really has nothing to do with anything,” I say, shaking my head. “The point is, Aethel, the goddess of Light, wanted to rule the dead. For that, she knew she couldn’t kill Voren’s father, but she could usurp him by gaining more power over the dead on earth.”
“She was the goddess of Light?” Nyssa snorts. “Ironic.”
“Power taints.”
“So it does. I’m assuming Voren’s dad is dead?” Her gaze shifts to Voren.
“What makes you say that?”
“You are the god of Wraiths. There can’t be two of you.”
He smiles, slowly, and it chills her. She takes a step back. “Your ancestors killed him.”
She gulps. I half think she is going to apologise, but she doesn’t. She raises her chin defiantly, daring him to make a further comment. He doesn’t.
“Back to the Wraith Crown. This King died and was what? Contained in the crown? His power? Him? What?”
“His essence,” I say, knowing this is going to unravel quickly. “The crown holds his essence, his power over death itself. When a god or being of sufficient power wearsit, they become the arbiter of all, living and dead and the voids. Aethel wanted that power. She hunted for it her entire reign.”
“The Devourer,” Nyssa says slowly, her eyes narrowing.
“Yes.”
“It is a wraith?”
“Of the void variety but much more malevolent.”
“It is the Wraith King?”
“Wow, you are smart,” Dastian says with a snort. “You pieced that together fucking quickly.”
“But not all of it,” Voren says, his gaze boring into me as I ignore him and stare at Nyssa.
“Then what am I missing?” she asks to me and me alone.
I can’t lie to her. I should, but I can’t. “The Devourer is my father.”
Chapter 28
Nyssa
