For the first time in centuries, I was frozen with indecision, unsure whether to cross the water and enter the place of so much pain to find my tether or simply trust that whoever brought it to the Valley didn’t know what they possessed.
If they knew how to destroy it . . . no, I couldn’t think like that. There were two others who knew how to create and destroy artifacts, and both of them had a vested interest in keeping their own tethers intact.
I nearly scoffed at my thoughts—an immortal being with immeasurable power, and I was reduced to a shaking, sniveling girl.
Fire and anger burned through my veins at the thought of someone else in possession of a piece of my soul.
It would fare much better in my own hands . . .
The thought calmed me enough to think rationally.
I removed my hand from my brow and closed my eyes. The sun still shone bright through my dark lids, and I turned my face toward its warmth before spreading my arms wide. The breeze from the bay below picked up in strength, catching my dress and whipping it about my thin body.
On the next inhale, I tapped into the Water Magic that lived unhappily inside me and forced it to answer my call. After grappling with it for a few seconds, I grasped it and yanked as hard as I could, forcing it to bend to my will.
It will be easier when that godling is dead,I tried to convince myself, though even I was struggling to believe that lie now.
With a forceful exhale, I demanded that the water beneath my lookout part. With a sloshing so loud that it sounded like a distant rumble of thunder, the deep waters of the bay parted, revealing the shell and bone-ridden sand below. Once, millennia ago, this bay belonged to the sirens and the sailors they led to watery graves. Now, it seemed that it was their burial site as well.
It would take a generous amount of power—nearly all of my Water Magic—to hold the watery walls in this position as I walked across the bay to the inlet on the other side.
I’ll simply collapse it behind me as I walk.
It was a necessary overuse of power. Traveling to the Valley by any other method would take days. Crossing the bay on foot would reduce my travel time to mere hours, and every second counted when my immortal life hung in the balance.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Faylinn
For hours, we combed through dilapidated structures, stepping carefully around bones and tiptoeing through destruction as we searched for the lost knowledge Kaos was certain was hidden within the ruins. More than once, Ellowyn froze, head swiveling and pupils blown wide as if seeing or hearing something only privy to her.
Even I had to admit that the place feltwrong.
Eventually, we picked across the deadened grass to the middle of the town, a massive home with a caved-in roof marking the spot. There was an inexplicable draw to this place—like something otherworldly was calling me, pushing me to examine the walls and stones further. Despite the skeletons that riddled the ground and the cloying feeling of death, I followed the call, jumping over bones and skulls, one occasionally cracking beneath my boots.
As if in a trance, my fingertips caressed the worn stone, bumps and indentations taking a life of their own as I sought the pull’s origin. After little searching, I found a series of runes, blackened by centuries of blood.
It sang to me—the dried blood—and I quickly added my own, forcing the wall to reveal a hidden door and stairway.
A stairway that led us deep into the depths of the earth and catacombs beyond.
My pulse thundered in my neck, yet my steps were sure and quick, buoyed by the prospect of finding exactly what I came for in such short order.
My hopes, though, were quickly dashed when we emerged in a large underground chamber, the scent of smoke and ash hanging heavily in the stagnant air.
We froze at the threshold, both Ellowyn and I aghast at the sheer destruction in this space. Scorch marks marred the walls, obscuring centuries of painted runes and drawn histories. The top of what were once magnificent tapestries clung to the rafters while the rest hung in tatters. A thick layer of ash coated the floors, stone bookcases blackened by the heat of fire, their shelves now only holding remnants of what I expected were priceless tomes.
“There is nothing here,” Ellowyn said, anguished and aghast. “Why would Kaos lead you here if there was nothing left?”
My soul echoed her emotions, only growing more despondent the further I walked through the room, fingertips trailing over the soot ingrained into the walls.
“There is something here. Therehasto be,” I muttered, refusing to believe that this whole journey, that my conversation with Kaos, was for nothing.
“Kaos is many things, but I can’t see him leading us here without good reason,” I continued. Ellowyn sighed, her steps creating little clouds of dust as she followed me around the room.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps the damage was much more thorough than he originally expected. Didn’t he say that this was Solace’s birthplace? If his descendant destroyed it, I highly doubt she would let Kaos in here to assess the damage.”
I hummed noncommittally, eyes canvassing every inch of the hidden room, searching for some sort of clue. My gaze snagged on a small pillar in the direct center, no taller than my waist. I cocked my head, abandoning my examination of the walls.
