“What about Cyrus and Emmy?”
For a brief click I was afraid something might have happened to them, but then Siret said, “I sent Cyrus a message. They’re going to meet us at the banishment cave. They were in his secret lair already, so they’re pretty close.” He chuckled, and I was glad to see the sparkle back in his eyes.
Yael held out his hand for me and I stepped closer, placing my palm against his. “Let’s do this then,” I said, unsure if I was ready, but knowing we had no choice.
I closed my eyes when we stepped through the pocket, reopening them again when the pressure eased. We ended up in the same place I had last time, when I’d been pushed off the platform. That felt like a million life-cycles ago … before I knew that the Abcurses were gods … before I knew the truth of the worlds.
Before I knew who I truly was.
“It’s been a hell of a ride,” Rome said, catching my thoughts.
“It has,” I agreed. “I almost can’t believe how much has happened since I accidentally got myself sent to Blesswood.”
Aros shot me a smile. “Not sure there was any accident about that. For you to get sent there at the same time as us … sounds like fate.”
“Is there a god of that?” I asked, trying to recall if I’d ever heard one mentioned.
They shook their heads. “No, just like Fertility, that was one god Staviti has never been able to create.”
I wondered if Fate was just too big to be contained in any being. Maybe the God of Fate was Topia itself. Like the land was the one moving the pieces about, making everything fall into place.
A voice filtered through the darkness. “About time you all arrived, we’ve been in here for what feels like a rotation.”
Cyrus and Emmy stepped into view, and I rushed toward them. “Emmy, is everything okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the server attack—”
She glared at me and I ground to a halt as I recognised her expression. “No, everything is not okay, Willa Knight. You disappeared on me again. No note. No goodbye.”
I lifted an eyebrow at her. “Uh, I was kidnapped. And the crazy god who took me wasn’t big on letting me say my goodbyes.”
Emmy huffed. “I know, and I know I shouldn’t be mad at you, and yet you have me so worried all the time that … it’s turning into mad.”
With a laugh, I stepped closer. “Don’t act like that’s something new. Worry and anger have always gone hand in hand with you. I really am so sorry though. If there was any other way …”
Her glare softened, and she relaxed her folded arms. “I forgive you. Please try to let me know the next time you’re going to get kidnapped.”
A snort-laugh escaped me. “I’ll do my best.”
She grinned and the tension between us eased. “So this cave,” she said, looking around. “Cyrus and I have been examining it, and I think I’ve figured out the location of the catchment you’re looking for.”
She turned to move along the pathway and we all hurried after her, easily able to see in the dimly lit cave. God sight was even better than god speed. The turns Emmy took were somewhat familiar, but it was hard to know for sure because everything felt different without the wraiths. Their energy had given this place a heavy air; it had been difficult to breathe around them. Not to mention the cold.
Right now, though, it just felt like a normal cave.
That was until we got closer to the catchment spot. The same wall that the souls had led me to. The one that was smooth and made of a non-rock material. The one with the unusual writing.
“Can you feel that?” Emmy asked. She hovered her hand across the wall but didn’t touch it. “It feels … unnatural.”
I followed her movements, and with my god senses unlocked, there was so much more I could read from the wall. “It feels like an enchantment of some kind,” I said. “Could this series of words be what’s blocking the flow of water? Redirecting the energy of Topia?”
Emmy stepped back, pressing against Cyrus, who wrapped an arm around her. It was still more than a little odd to see the softening of his face when she touched him. He almost looked like a different god.
“How do we break this?” Coen asked, leaning forward to examine the words closely. He lightly traced his palm across a few of them. “I’ve never seen this language before.”
“I haven’t either,” Cyrus admitted, sounding annoyed. “And I thought there were no languages I did not know.”
The longer I stared at the swirling symbols, the more sense they made to me. It was like my mind was adjusting, learning how to read and understand what was being said. “I think this is an ancient Minatsol dialect,” I murmured. “I’ve seen it before.”
“Where?” Cyrus demanded.
