He leans in and whispers, “You have no idea, Your Grace.”
I pull the doors open with an extra flare and hold up my middle finger, leaving him at the entrance. “You don’t have to wait for me.”
“You know I’ll be right here when you’re done,” he says.
The atheneum is four stories of enormous white bookshelves covering every wall and creating endless aisles of books. In the center of the ceiling is a stained glass dome, depicting the gifts the Statera bestowed upon the five original kingdoms of this realm. My gaze sweeps over the cluster of majestic animals representing Allaji, and the Sara healer with their hands aglow. The image of the person from Esspress, with a burst of light around their head, symbolizing their ability to speak with the Statera and the spirits who dwell in its presence. A Divine Sibyl with their hands pressed together in prayer. The latter is exalted amongst those who reside here at the temple. The divine are the Statera’s conduits, binding us to the promises we make before the greatest of all powers.
My heart clenches as I look at the last panel making up the magnificent colored glass. The worldly elements controlled by the people who once belonged to one kingdom. A divided land where some are treated as nothing more than a vessel to fuel the powers of others. Fire, water, earth, ice, electricity, wind, darkness, light—harmoniously blended in what is now a dream version of Pliris.
Leather slaps against marble and I spin on my heels, my heart pounding in my chest.
“I’ve found a tome which may interest you,” says the ancient Sibyl, who cares for the atheneum.
This is the first time they have approached me about my quest for answers, remaining subjective on the matter. I sink into one of the many gilded chairs with white velvet cushions and fold my hands on the table’s cold stone top.
The Sibyl sits across from me and takes their time adjusting the blue veil over their head. They run their shaky withered hand down the book’sthick brown cover, wiping away the nonexistent dust from it. I suck my lips between my teeth and bite down as they flip through the pages painstakingly slowly.
“This is the life’s work of a Sibyl dedicated to understanding the gifts bestowed on Pliris’ people. I believe it contains the definitive answer whether one can break the parah bond.”
The parah bond—the bane of my existence.
I chose to spend my year away from my duties as Lucent’s future queen, looking for a way to sever the bond. I’ve read every passage I can get my hands on, asked my questions in every imaginable way, and I’ve yet to find the answer I seek.
The Sibyl reaches the back of the tome and pushes it in front of me. They tap a wrinkled finger on a specific passage. “This is the say all,” they say in a trembling voice.
I lean over the book and read the lines. My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Taking a deep breath, I look over the script again, consuming the words one at a time.
The Statera has gifted the people of Pliris with an unwavering bond which is the embodiment of its love for those in its keep. Ignita, Glacio, Noctist, Solsta, not even the gift of the Cognus or Cantor, is as great as the power found in the parah bond. It unifies souls and is untamable by any other power.
Only the Sacred Statera itself is greater than this gift.
Fighting the urge to hurl the tome across the room, I close it and slide it back to the Sibyl. “This is it? There’s no way to undo this mistake?”
The Sibyl’s wrinkled face remains emotionless as they answer, “The Statera does not make mistakes; only its beloved people do.”
“So, it’shisfault then?”
The Sibyl’s gray eyes soften, and they lean into the table. “The Pliris prince will forever be your parah.”
“The Stigian queen’s son,” I correct with a sneer.
“You can define him as your enemy, but even your claim of hate for him?—”
“I do hate him,” I spit.
With a deep breath and slower cadence to their voice, the Sibyl starts again. “You can claim to hate him, but the draw of your parah bond will always be there.”
“So, it’s hopeless?”
“This bond can’t be broken, but it can break all others.”
My face reddens, and I clench my jaw. The Sibyl is giving me a way out of my bond with the wrong person. “I’ve made a promise to my kingdom and to my betrothed. I intend to keep it and marry Leif,” I say, running my cool hand over my face and standing. “Thank you for your time.”
The Sibyl nods, and I rush from the suffocating smell of old parchment and weathered leather.
Flinging open the doors of the atheneum, I run past Zek and through the bleached corridors. Wind whips against my cheeks and my ponytail brushes between my shoulder blades. I maneuver around several Sibyls who watch me with stoic expressions. I hate how nothing bothers them. These walls could crumble around us, and they would leisurely stroll to the nearest exit, like it was another uneventful day.
I bound out of the last passageway and lift my face to the sun. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the scent of freshly cut grass and roses. Every cell of my body buzzes as despair threatens to take hold. I try to center myself and come to terms with what I’ve learned, but it’s like my world is closing in on me. Everything is fading to the background, and my mind can’t comprehend the last sentence I read from the tome. Only the Sacred Statera itself is greater than this gift.
