Felinus’s face was grave. “I wonder if he saw the deaths of empaths. The knights gaining power within the church, and the church itself filling every corner of the empire.” His eyes clouded. “And yet, by seeking to stop that future, he was the one who triggered it.”
“It’s possible,” Amryn murmured. And horrifically tragic, if it was true. “I fear he saw more than just that, though.” She tapped the prophecy. “This sounds much worse than just the church being in power. This sounds more like the ending of the very world.”
Felinus was silent as he processed Amryn’s words. With a slow nod, he said, “The wording does suggest something much bigger and darker.” The grimness that settled into the old cleric was something Amryn felt deep in her bones.
As if Felinus could not bear the weight of such supernatural things right now, he asked Amryn to tell him what happened at the emperor’s ball. She did so, informing him of everything that had gone so wrong; the Rising, the Amins, and Tam.
While Felinus processed her words, she poured another glass of wine.
Felinus watched her sip from the glass, gripping his mug of coffee in both hands. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
She huffed a dry laugh. “That, I understand.”
“The other bloodstone—the one set in the Dagger of Hafsin. It remains in the treasury?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “It was strange, Felinus. It felt like it was asleep. I think the presence of the other bloodstone woke it up.”
His brow furrowed. “Have there been any quakes since you arrived at the palace?”
She blinked. “Yes. Why?”
“It’s only a theory. But unfortunately, it seems to be forming into a distinct possibility.” Seeing her confusion, he set aside his mug. “Perhaps it’s my turn. My tale isn’t anywhere near as exciting, so it will be much shorter than yours. After you left Esperance, I began to meticulously search the library for any mentions of the bloodstones. As you know, my intention was to learn how to destroy one.”
The bloodstone—which was resting on the table between them—gave off a deep, almost grating pulse.
Amryn tried to cover her own echo of unease by taking another drink from her glass. Because even though she dreaded losing her shield, she knew the bloodstones had to be destroyed. They were far too dangerous to exist in this world. If they fell into the wrong hands, it would be a nightmare.
Only after she swallowed did she realize Felinus was staring pointedly at the bloodstone, his worry escalating.
“I can handle the bloodstone, Felinus,” she assured him softly. “I haven’t used it to do anything spectacular.” Except to heal Carver in Market Square. But she’d been much more controlled that time, compared to her first time using the bloodstone.
Felinus’s unease rippled between them, and she had the sudden fear that he’d sensed the lie of omission. Then he said quietly, “Any use of the bloodstone is dangerous. After all, sometimes it is the small, whispering indulgences that are the most insidious in our lives.”
Wanting to remove the attention from her bloodstone, she pocketed the amulet and met Felinus’s stare. “Did you find anything in the library?”
It was clear he didn’t want to change the subject so soon, but he gave in with a sigh. “Not enough. But I did find something.” He returned Von’s journal to her, then reached into his bag and withdrew a worn leatherbound book. “It’s a book of lore,” he explained, “gathered by a little-known scholar named Merrell Elevikus. I researched what I could find about him, to see if it could shed light on his words. From my understanding, he wrote this book after empaths were deemed unacceptable by the empire. But in many of his passages, he talks about thewonderful empaths he’d met over the years. I also learned that he publicly decried the violence against them. He wanted the emperor to reconsider his ruling against empaths, and he even wrote letters to the Highest Cleric about it.”
“That was brave of him.”
“Yes. It’s also what led to his death.”
Amryn sucked in a breath. “The church had him killed?”
Felinus nodded, expression grim. “The knights branded him an empath, though from everything I’ve read, he was only sympathetic to them.”
Chilled, Amryn looked at Elevikus’s book. “Did he mention the bloodstones?”
“Yes.” Felinus flipped to a bookmarked page and began to read. “‘Of the fabled bloodstones, I can only speak briefly. Those who whisper about them do so with great caution, but I am now confident they are no mere myth. I am told there are five in existence. I know for a fact that Saul Von, the most reviled of empaths, sought them. I know that the bloodstones call to strong empaths, and that they will be compelled to use the stones. I know that bloodstones are an abomination, evil to their core—they should never have been made, the process being too horrendous and vile to catalogue here. I also know that a bloodstone can only be destroyed by wielding the power of another bloodstone, and that the act itself is so violent, the world would be torn asunder. For even the earth shakes when two bloodstones are in close proximity.’”
Amryn set aside her wine, her head suddenly throbbing. “None of that sounds good.”
“No,” he agreed grimly. “But did you catch that last part?The earth shakes when two bloodstones are in close proximity.”
The back of her neck prickled. “The first morning here, there was a quake. And when I first saw the Dagger of Hafsin as well.” Her eyes widened. “And in Esperance!”
“That’s the only one I knew of, of course,” Felinus said. “But if this theory proves correct—which your finding of the second bloodstone seems to prove—then I believe there is a bloodstone hidden somewhere in the temple.”
“But I had the bloodstone for weeks before the quake in Esperance. Why weren’t there any quakes before that final night?”
