He circled the pedestal at the center, running his fingers over the runes etched into the obsidian surface. I watched as he studied the markings beneath each one, curiosity pulling at his features.
“I wonder how many versions of us have come before,” he murmured, tapping his knuckles lightly against the stone. “The ones who failed to fulfill the prophecy. Who knows how many years it’s been—tens, hundreds, maybe even thousands. We’ll never know.”
He glanced up at me.
“It seems the ones who record our history keep rewriting it into the story they want told… not the one that actually happened.”
I nodded. “And it seems to me the Mareki doesn’t like its story being rewritten.”
I stepped closer to the pedestal, examining the large rune etched in its center. “The prophecy mentions the ancient trials—maybe that’s this endless cycle of chosen ones, trying and failing to prove themselves worthy. But instead, it’s like they’ve become…” I trailed off, the thought unraveling.
“Corrupted,” Rhodes breathed.
My eyes snapped to him. Something clicked—like a missing piece sliding into place. The memory of my father’s words rushed back. He’d mentioned that part of Kalluri’s soul seemed corrupted. I thought of the gray dragons of Tyria—their bodies decaying from the inside out, as if something had hollowed them. And none of them had riders.
Not one.
As if the bond between Tyria’s fire elementals and their dragons had broken—too weak, too corrupted to allow that sacredconnection.
A silent explosion rattled the foundation, forcing us to grip the pedestal for balance. A surge of arcane energy burst through the chamber, stealing the breath from my lungs. The central rune began to glow, its light flickering like a dying star.
Beneath my palms, the earth and water runes pulsed steadily, their light unwavering. Opposite me, the runes of air and fire ignited—white and red radiance casting sharp shadows across Rhodes’s face. The air around us thickened, whipping into a cyclone of magic that churned like a brewing storm.
I met Rhodes’s gaze across the pedestal—his expression mirrored my unease.
Then a brilliant glow lit up behind me, reflected in his wide eyes. I reached back, grabbing the piece of Mareki’s Key hidden within my quiver. Its pages blazed with the same intensity as the first tome had, back when Scarlet and I unlocked it.
“I’m almost there!” Scarlet’s voice rang through themarekem.
The Mareki Gem burst into view in a sudden flare of light. It spun wildly, its crystal edges scattering beams across the chamber like a prism. The light intensified, blinding—so bright I could no longer see Rhodes across the pedestal. Heat prickled across my skin. Sweat beaded along my forehead as the gem’s brilliance grew unbearable.
I threw my arms up to shield my eyes.
“Fallon!” Rhodes shouted.
And then—everything vanished into white.
Chapter 62
My legs burned as I pushed faster than ever. At the corner, I launched into the air, using the wall as a springboard to propel myself left. A breathless laugh escaped me as I flew down the empty hallway.
“I’m here!” I called out to Fallon.
A dragon’s sharp trill echoed through the sky, then cut off abruptly as I dove headfirst into the bookshelf—vanishing as it dissolved around me. I summoned heatless flames to hover above me, their soft glow lighting the hidden corridor as I ran.
Sliding to a stop beneath the arched doorway, I tried to steady my breath. It was eerily silent. The pedestal of runes sat dormant—no light, no arcanial pull, no hum of magic like before.
I circled it, my mind racing. Had I misunderstood the plan?
Turning back, I jogged through the corridor and burst into the open hallway, scanning for any sign of them.
Nothing.
I placed my palms on top of my head, lungs heaving as I checked each corner.
Still no one.
Outside, the dragon trilled again—deep and long, its cry edged with pain.
