Ezer shook her head.
It couldn’t be.
But … she had seen the feathers inside the cottage.
She had seen the way the baby Ezer had them clutched in her furious little fists. And she could imagine it, the very same thing that had happened two months ago, in the woods.
An army of ravens.
For her.
‘But … how?’ Ezer asked.
‘Your ancestor, Wrenwyn … she could do what you do. Magic, raw and real, that does not require invocating. That does not have to pay a price.’
But if that were true …
It would change everything for the Sacred, if they could only learn. If only they could stop relying upon the granted invocations to the gods.
‘There are a rare few that possess your ability,’ Styerra explained. ‘Very rare, for only those in Wrenwyn’s line can wield without invocations.’
It didn’t make sense.
And yet … it explained her entire life. Her connection to the birds. To Six. Her ability to call upon the ravens, when death was near …
Her dreams.
‘What am I?’ Ezer dared ask.
Because … she couldn’t be Sacred.
Styerra frowned. ‘That is a question I cannot answer. But there is another who can. Another who your father believed in. Wrenwyn, too.’
‘The Acolyte?’ Ezer asked.
Styerra nodded.
She flickered for a moment and winced.
Her hands curled like she was in pain.
‘I doubted Erath when he first told me of this other power. How could I, born and raised in the Citadel, taught the laws of the Five, witnessing the gloriousmagicfrom them … how could I ever think there was anything different?’ Her eyes glittered. ‘But he was right. The gods are not alone, Ezer. The Acolyte is far more powerful than they think.’
Atendril of fear shivered through Ezer.
She needed to know more, had to know more, but first …
‘What happened to my father?’ Ezer asked.
Styerra sat forward, her expression darkening. ‘I suppose I’ll never fully know. I was meant to find him in death. That ring you wear on your thumb was meant to bond us. A way to seek one another, a map for our souls after we left this realm behind. But when Stefon?—’
‘Ervos,’ Ezer said.
‘You knew him as only his surname, yes.’ Styerra nodded. ‘When he removed it from my dead finger …’ she lifted her hands, frowning at the space where she once wore the ring, ‘it wasn’t so he could hold on to some fond memory of me. It was because he knew that he would never have my heart. He took the ring to ensure that I would never find your father again. Not in life. And not in death.’
A horrible fate, to wander aimlessly in the afterlife, searching for a love that might never be found. Ezer’s blood went cold.
‘Why would he do such a thing?’
