Carver darted forward, but Amryn beat him to it. She tore the journal from Ysabel’s clawed hands.
The second her skin broke free of the journal, Ysabel collapsed in Marc’s arms.
Her jagged breaths filled the room. Her body was wracked with shudders as the large man cradled her protectively. His agitation was tangible as he grunted.
She was still trembling as she rasped, “I’m all right. I promise, I’m all right.” Saints, her throat sounded ravaged. When she finally stopped shaking, Marc forced her to lie back on the bed. His own large body was vibrating with tension.
Carver had tugged Amryn to her feet, so they stood beside the bed. The journal lay abandoned on the now-rumpled quilt.
Amryn was pale. “What happened?” she asked Ysabel.
“I’m not sure,” she said, her breathing still a little ragged. “I’ve never experienced anything like that. I . . . I think I fell into one of Von’s visions.” She swallowed hard, grimacing. “Water. Please.”
Marc moved before Amryn could, reaching for the nearby pitcher and pouring a glass. He handed it to Ysabel, who drank gratefully.
Tense silence gripped the room as they waited for Ysabel to finish and set the empty cup aside. Only then did the empath continue. “I didn’t see what Von did. I simply heard his voice and echoed his words. But whatever he saw . . . it was bad. Very bad.” She shook her head, her face bleached of color. “The fear he battled . . . thedread. He was desperate to stop this prophecy from being fulfilled, yet I could feel his certainty that he would fail. He still tried to give the world its best chance. He wanted to destroy them. The bloodstones.”
Marc frowned and signed briefly.
Ysabel shook her head. “I don’t know what a bloodstone is,” she said, obviously answering his unspoken question. She turned her gaze to Carver and Amryn, lines appearing on her forehead as she studied them. “But I think they do.”
Carver hardly knew what to think, let alone say, as Marc and Ysabel stared at them. Everything he’d just witnessed was impossible. And yet . . .
Amryn took his hand with her own. He knew it was a silent plea, and despite all his reservations, he sighed. “We don’t know much about them,” he told Marc and Ysabel. “They’re magical objects that—when wielded by an empath—somehow amplify that empath’s power.”
“A reserve of some kind?” Ysabel asked.
“Something like that.” Amryn glanced at Carver, but he subtly shook his head. He didn’t want Amryn to admit that she carried a bloodstone, or share the things she could do with it.
Her lips pursed, but agreement was in her eyes—and in her silence.
Ysabel glanced between them, obviously picking up something. But instead of prying, she said, “If that’s true, why would Saul Von have wanted to destroy them? He was fighting against the emperor himself. It doesn’t make sense that he would have sought to destroy such a great source of power.”
“I don’t know his reasoning,” Amryn admitted. “But I think he wanted to destroy the bloodstones because of that vision you just witnessed.”
Ysabel’s eyes clouded. “If destroying those bloodstones can prevent what Saul Von feared, I pray he succeeded.”
Amryn folded her arms, her fingers wrapping tightly around her elbows. “Did you see or hear anything that might explain how to destroy a bloodstone?”
“No, I didn’t see anything about that.”
Amryn bit her lip. “When you were hearing Von’s voice, did you see anything at all? Even a hint of what he saw? Anyone?”
“No,” Ysabel said. “The whole experience was strange.Those words . . . Ifeltthem. They carried a weight I’ve never experienced before. I don’t know if Von’s visions were accurate portrayals of the future, but . . .” She eyed the journal, still lying on the bed near her feet. “Based on what I felt, Von certainly believed that prophecy was inevitable.”
Amryn’s throat flexed as she swallowed. “When he spoke of The Flame . . . did you get any impressions of what he might have meant by that?”
Carver tensed.
Ysabel glanced at him, but she answered Amryn. “No. I’m sorry, it was just so overwhelming. I’m sure I missed something. I could try again—”
Marc’s harsh growl tore through the air.
Ysabel set a hand on his rigid arm. “Perhaps not right now,” she conceded. “I need to rest. But I can try another time.”
“Thank you,” Amryn said.
Marc caught Carver’s eye, then jerked his head toward the door. That didn’t need any interpretation.
