“That’s all for today.” I spun toward the door. “Send word for us if you think of anything you’d like to share.”
Malakai followed me from the room with one last threatening look over his shoulder. Cyph lingered for only a moment, a conflicted look in his eye.
We shut the door to her cell, locking it from the outside. As the heavy iron key hung in my hand, I couldn’t help but feel bad for trading one of Vale’s prisons for another. She’d only ever known cages. Was born to keep secrets.
Perhaps she needed to taste freedom.
The Mystique CouncilChamber was stoic when I entered, marching to my seat at the head of the table. Malakai and Cyph followed, sliding into their places.
I tried not to think about the council members that were no longer here. Instead, I focused on those whowerewith me and the treacherous path awaiting us.
I didn’t waste words on introductions, not when a heaviness pressed on my shoulders, my heart twisting in my chest. Truthfully, I didn’t want to be here at all. My heart was elsewhere…
But I’d put this meeting off for two days already, allowing my council to grieve and dispose of bodies. To plan funerals, my father’s included. My eyes stung, but I banished the thought, instead focusing on the pride he’d felt in me. I needed it to carry me through this.
My hands shook as I raised them behind my neck, flicking open the clasp on my necklace. I tossed the thin gold chain and emblem onto the table.
“This is the answer to Damien’s prophecy,” I clipped.
“A necklace?” Jezebel asked, perching on the edge of the table. Erista stood next to her, rubbing a hand over her brow in thought.
“A shard of metal that came from Angelborn.” I remembered the first time I picked it up and how the scrap burned my skin—onlymyskin. “It has always reacted to me unlike any other warrior, creating a second pulse in my veins. The false curse was awakened by it to drive me here, to complete the Undertaking and start this whole journey. Given to me by the Angels. I believe this token is it.”
“But what exactly isit?” Malakai asked.
“It’s my theory that a crystallized piece of Damien’s power lives within this shard of metal.” Both pulses quickened within me as I remember the Storyteller’s tale of fossilized power being left behind from the Angels. It wasn’t just a legend, though. This emblem held the power of Angels.
“There are seven of these, then?” Cyph asked. Picking up the necklace and flipping it over, he held it to the light. Undiluted golden sun bounced off of it.
“One for each Angel,” I confirmed. “If my guess is correct, everyAngel left one of these tokens behind. For the Chosen—the warrior with active Angelblood—to find and unite them. Based on how the metal ignited during my fight with Kakias, I think my blood activates it somehow. These shards are a part of me.”
“It certainly burned with the radiance of the revered bastards,” Barrett recalled. Reaching out a hand for Cypherion to pass the emblem, he and Dax looked it over together.
“And if I’m right, we have a second, too.” I held my hand out to the Engrossians. “Your sigil ring, Barrett?”
Understanding spread across his face like the dawn. He removed his family heirloom and placed it in my hand. My pulses quickened again, a promise this time. The ring rolled over, the stone pressing into my palm, and I hissed in recognition of the heat singeing my skin, quickly dropping it to the table.
It bounced, landing face up, looking at me.
“The Engrossian emblem,” I grunted. “When Barrett helped me against his mother, my blood spilled on his ring. More Angellight. Another token.”
“Shame there isn’t a less painful way of identifying them,” Rina mused. I shrugged, not caring much about what pain I had to endure if it meant being certain.
“Okay, assuming your theories are correct,” Erista started, “what are these tokens for?”
I shook my head. I had no answer for that. Since I’d woken up and started piecing together the scraps of information I had—the Storyteller’s tale, Annellius’s history, and Damien’s cryptic words—I’d been struggling to decipher thewhy.
“Damien said to unite them.” I shrugged. “I suppose that’s a reasonable place to start.”
A golden glow bathed the room, the maps lining the wall shining. While many of my companions gasped, I raised my brows. There were mutters and curses around the room, including Barrett’s exclamation of “Bant’s cock,” to which the Angel smirked.
“I will tell him you inquired about it,” Damien joked, turning from the Engrossian to me. “As requested, I have worked on my timing.” He floated along the windows. With his large wings extendedat either side, the sun haloing his figure, he brought legends to life. My pulses stirred, wanting to write them with him.
“It’s appreciated.”
The guests in the room watched me converse with the Angel, awe radiating from them, but nerves flitted through my body at Damien’s sudden appearance. Based on my friends’ tense stances and keen attention, they felt it, too.
“To what do we owe the honor?” I asked.
