“That wouldn’t be the case if you fulfilled the prophecy to this kingdom.” says a calm, monotone voice.
I stop my pacing to find a sibyl in a pale blue robe sitting in the far corner of the room. They have a journal opened on their lap with a quill moving swiftly over the pages. The sibyl doesn’t so much as glance up from their task, continuing as if they never spoke.
“I did fulfill the prophecy,” I say, gesturing to Kyron. “The kingdom is united under one ruler again.”
The Sibyl glances up at me and says, “The prophecy called for you torestorethe kingdom, not reunite it.”
“What does that mean?” Kyron asks, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“This kingdom has not completed its divine task for centuries. The Saras heal, Esspress tell the stories of the spirits,and Sibyls carry out the will of the Statera. What is Pliris’ purpose in the five kingdoms?”
The question angers me. I did what Micah told me I was called to do, and now I’m hearing it isn’t enough. Pliris has a purpose I’m supposed to restore? How am I to do that when I don’t even know what they are talking about?
I brace my arms on the tabletop and lean toward where the Sibyl sits. “What was our kingdom’s purpose?”
They eye the Eporri with disgust. “That stone and its counterpiece are meant to continue the discourse cursed upon this kingdom centuries before. They are not a true source of power. The stone this kingdom once held was more powerful than the others. It had the ability to give and take the gifts of the Statera without prejudice. It could cease wars and start them.”
Something inside of me stirs at their words. It is so familiar.
“Where is the stone now?” Borin asks.
“Raelle knows where to find it,” they say, returning to their journaling and ending their conversation with us.
I plop down in my chair with my mouth open.Raelle knows where to find it?I don’t even know what they are talking—wait. Yes, I do. I’ve felt a bizarre connection to a map since I first heard the legend behind it. Ashavee couldn’t believe I was ignorant about a piece of Pliris’ history. A history that others here thought was nothing more than a children’s story. A story about a stone that could take and give power.
“The Cruel King’s Stone,” I say.
One side of Wel’s face lifts in confusion. “The story my mother told me when I wouldn’t eat my vegetables as a child?”
I shake my head and turn to Kyron. “The map your mother hired sailors to follow. She knew the stone was real, and she wanted it.”
He pivots in his chair, facing the Sibyl. “What will happen if we find the stone?”
“My job is to know Pliris’ history and chronicle your reign for future generations. Prophecy is not my specialty,” the Sibyl replies with disinterest.
Borin drops his voice and says, “This could be a waste of time. People have searched for the Cruel King’s Stone for hundreds of years. Nothing in our history books gives any indication that it is real.”
Kyron leans back in his chair and runs his hand along his jaw. “Micah was told of the prophecy while visiting Sibyl. If we ride day and night, we can reach their temple, ask our questions, and return home before the next sun rises. We can spare a day if it means having a chance to win this war.”
“And if the Sibyls say it is true?” Papa asks.
“We will deal with that when the moment comes,” Kyron says, releasing a long breath. “For now, we need to know if there is something out there that will give us a fighting chance.”
The mixture of doubt and hope radiating from everyone is palpable. We are suggesting that we use precious time on something that might not help us. This is the measure of our desperation. Anything is better than taking our chances with the Allaji as things stand.
“You said you have the map. Do you know where it leads?” Kyron asks me.
I shake my head. “I’ve searched it numerous times, but nothing is familiar. I can say with certainty that it isn’t in Pliris.”
Kyron focuses on Leif and says, “Are you up to finding another impossible thing?”
Leif runs his fingers through his thick golden hair like he’s already milling over possible locations. “Yeah. I’ll figure it out.”
Setting this plan in motion feels right. It doesn’t make complete sense to me, but deep in my bones, I know this is what I’m supposed to do.
Ashavee pulls her braid over her shoulder and weaves the ends through her fingers. “I’ll go with you to Sibyl. You will need someone who can sense the presence of other shifters. They will pounce once they learn you’ve crossed your border. It will be an opportune time for them to take you, Elle.”
“I’ll go too,” Ulric says with an eagerness he usually reserves for a glass of fine whiskey.
