Fallon gave her mother a smile that bared his teeth, the type an apex predator might give to a bunny who amused it. “That would be impossible.”
Shea caught the subtext behind that statement. Reclaiming their original homeland was impossible—recreating their people’s kingdom on a new land, that was a different story.
“Your people have long been conquerors,” Lainey said, her thoughts mirroring Shea’s. “It’s one of the things that led to the cataclysm.” Seeing their instinctual denial and anger at being labeled the cause of an event so disastrous it had knocked humanity from their dominant position in the world, Lainey gave them a humorless smile. “Don’t worry. It’s not the only one. Just a small pebble in a landslide of others that led to an unescapable chain of events.”
Fallon watched her with an inscrutable expression, waiting, as any good hunter did when he knew he was close to getting what he wanted.
Even Shea couldn’t help but feel a hushed expectation, and she’d heard variations of the same story her entire life.
“The world was very different then,” Lainey said in that same measured way. “We flew through the sky, touching the heavens. We built cities so massive that the entire population of the Highlands couldn’t have filled them.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve heard this,” Gawain said, impatience in his voice. “Our ancestors were capable of feats only a god could perform. Perhaps that’s why they were struck down and punished.”
Lainey arched an eyebrow, her expression chiding. “Is that what your people say happen? That they were punished for their hubris?” Her gaze turned inward and she gave a small shrug as if she agreed. “You’re right, but it wasn’t the work of any god.”
She studied each of the people who’d gathered, her gaze enigmatic and remote. “It’s because of us, every one of us. We became greedy. We took our gifts and turned it on ourselves, again and again. Nothing was ever enough. We devolved until even our sense of right and wrong disappeared. The term cataclysm is a bit of a misnomer. One event didn’t usher in the end of the previous world. It took a span of decades—one mistake after another—that so shifted the land, that what was left was barely habitable.”
She pointed to the pedestal. “What was here was one such mistake.” She walked around it, her fingers trailing against the rim of the basin. “We call it the Lux. It’s one of the four empire killers. It wasn’t a weapon, not at first. It is said to have many properties, some wondrous. By the end of the cataclysm, its purpose had been twisted. They used it to turn entire cities into uninhabitable wastelands.”
Zeph stirred. “How does it work?”
Lainey clasped her hands and looked pensive.
“No one knows,” Shea said, interrupting. “But the Lux is capable of finishing what the first cataclysm started. In the wrong hands, it could wipe the Highlands and Lowlands clean of all human influence. It could devastate Fallon’s army. Some might survive, but I doubt you would be able to hold the territory you’ve conquered afterward.”
“And Griffin has it now?” Braden asked, his intelligent gaze shifting from the pedestal to Lainey, who hesitated before inclining her head.
Van let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Our time in this land just gets better and better.”
Fallon muttered a heartfelt curse that echoed what everyone in the room felt.
Hopelessness stole into Shea. The beast attack and now this. The odds seemed to stack higher and higher against them with each moment.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gawain said, his face disbelieving. “Why wasn’t this thing under heavy guard?”
“Because it’s hard to steal something if you never know it’s there,” her father said from his post along the wall.
“That’s really worked out for you, hasn’t it?” Gawain asked, gesturing at the room around them.
“Secrets only work if they’re only known by one person,” Fallon said, giving her father a sidelong glance.
Her father’s lips twitched, and he tilted his chin down in agreement, just the barest bit. He turned his gaze on her mother, “Or you make sure only the right people know. I told you not to let that woman into the inner guard.”
Lainey gave him a sour look. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. She paid the price for her betrayal.”
“And the rest of us will pay the price for you trusting the wrong people,” Zeph rumbled, not looking at her mother.
Suddenly, her mother seemed older than her years. “You’re right about that.”
There was a short silence as they digested what this might mean for them all.
“Where do we go from here?” Van asked, turning to Fallon.
Fallon exhaled, his shoulders rising as he stared at the pedestal with a resigned look. “We’re going to have to retrieve it. If what she says is true, it is far too powerful to be left in the hands of our enemy.”
“That’s a death sentence for whoever goes,” Gawain said.
Zeph gave him a sidelong look. “What’s wrong, Rain? Are you losing your courage?”
