This is what we stand for, and we hope that our legacy lives on through you.
I gulp, lifting my head from the page as I take a deep breath, suddenly aware of the dampness that coats my cheeks.
It's raw.
It's real.
It's devastating.
It might not make sense, not fully, but it's enough to know that my origin isn't that of monsters.
My heritage is of people who wanted the best for the greater good, yet were capitalized uponbythe monsters.
Daring to take a look at Thorne, I find his jaw slack, his eyes wide, and a sense of new rage swirling in his dark pools.
“What does this mean, Elodie?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper, and I shake my head.
“I don't know, but the answers have to be in here. It has to make sense,” I insist, and he nods, finally turning his attention to me.
“This makes me question everything,” he admits, dragging a hand down his face.
There's a lot here that we don't understand. And that seems like the most ironic thing, because we're never going to get the entire picture unless we have the perspective of everyone involved.
Since I've arrived here, all I've been met with are the views of The Sanctum and Jude fucking Forrester.
“My hatred for The Sanctum has always beenplacid, like I've known to not like them, but I was here for safety. My father told me to come. But if that's the case, I was lured straight into the trap by the enemy themselves,” he states, and my heart clenches.
“I’m ready to pummel some shit,” Rion grunts, standing before one of the tapestries at the opposite end of the room as he folds his arms over his chest, anger pounding in the vein protruding at his temple.
I shouldn't appreciate the blossoming feeling of love and safety that takes root in my soul at his instinctive reaction to go into protective mode, but I do. Although, I don’t admit it now. It doesn't really feel like the time.
Instead, my gaze travels past him to the tapestry on the wall, and before I realize it, I am moving toward him. He must sense my target is behind him because he moves aside before I draw nearer, offering me a full view.
It's a beautiful fabric.
The pattern etched into it is intertwined and infinite, but it's the words running through the image that make my heart pound.
Love is power and power is energy, which can neither be destroyed nor created without vulnerability and heart. In such,love shall never die.
My heart ricochets in my chest as I turn to the others, and I spy the fact that Ocean's eyes are a little red and puffy, just like mine. I part my lips to ask her if she's okay, but a rattling noise from the door makes me pause.
Everybody stills, staring at the wood as if it's an offensive sound.
Before I can think better of it, I race toward the door, Rion hot on my heels as he drops a hand in front of me, instinctively trying to stop me from leaving, but I shake my head.
That's not my intention.
Instead, I tilt my head to press my ear as close as I can to the door, trying to listen for who it might be. Silence greets me for what feels like an eternity until a muffled voice filters through the tiny gap.
“Jude? Jude! It's happened. The Vault has been opened. We must act now.”
Nausea churns in my gut. My eyes widen as I peer at Rion, and by the look on his face, he can hear the same whispers as me.
“Excellent, but don't tell me what my next move should be. Otherwise, my next command will be to ruin you. I'll move when I'm ready and only then.”
The sound of shuffling feet scurrying away inthe distance is all that greets me as I turn and slump against the door.
Disbelief takes root in my gut.
