“What—Where are you going?”
He was bounding off in the direction the growl had come from, his silhouette barely visible against the dark. Emory tore after him. She nearly knocked into him at the base of the canyon. His face was twisted with horror and anger as he stared at an eldritchbeast that had Emory backing up a step. It had the body of a wildcat, fur black as the night, and the torso and head of an owl, with feathers the silvery gray of the moon. Vibrant blue eyes stared back at them as the creature uttered a broken cry.
Its wings were pinned to the canyon wall, pierced through with golden swords.
Sidraeus seemed heartbroken and outraged all at once. He walked up to the creature and stroked it gently on its neck, speaking to it in a language Emory didn’t know. The eldritch made another plaintive cry, closing its eyes as it leaned into Sidraeus’s touch. Distracting it with his soothing words, Sidraeus took out the swords with quick, efficient movements. Dark blood pooled from the wounds as the creature stumbled forward.
“Can you heal it?” Sidraeus asked. His mouth was set in a grim line as he met Emory’s gaze, but there was something desperate and broken hiding behind his eyes.
She looked at the beast, at the way Sidraeus knelt beside it, and understood. The eldritch were his, creatures that carried a trace of his power after he entered this world alongside Atheia. Creatures who lived in the balance between life and death, creation and destruction. They weren’t the bloodthirsty, wicked underworld beings that the Fellowship wanted the world to believe. They were just misunderstood.
And maybe it was because she, too, was a creature born of Sidraeus’s power that she drew on her healing magic and sent it toward the beast. Its wings mended themselves in no time. The eldritch shook them off and tucked them close to its sides with a pleased coo. Its blue eyes met hers, and then a voice was in her mind, just like when the dragon spoke.
Thank you, Tidecaller.
“You know what I am?”
I know many things. Such is my gift.
“Is it talking to you?” Sidraeus asked with a frown. “What’s it saying?”
“You don’t hear it?”
I choose who to speak with, the creature said, its tail flickering idly as it sat on its hind legs.You healed me, and so my gift is yours if you want it.
Emory felt a chill at its words despite herself. “What is it?”
Put your hand on my heart and find out for yourself.
Emory’s eyes flicked to Sidraeus, who watched the silent exchange with a raised brow. Curiosity had her moving closer to the beast. She rested a tentative hand on the soft down on its breast. Mesmerized by its blue eyes, she gasped as images swam in her mind.Knowledge. Truth.Such was the creature’s gift, and it washed through her like the tide.
Emory snatched her hand back, heart pounding. The eldritch inclined its head to her.
Farewell.
And just like that, it leapt toward freedom—but not before exchanging a weighted glance with Sidraeus. His expression changed; Emory could practically see the wheels spinning in his mind, leaving her to wonder if the beast had spoken to him, too. She was still trying to make sense of whatshe’dseen when Sidraeus met her eye. He quickly composed his features, trying for a bemused slant of his mouth that couldn’t quite hide his suspicion.
“Care to share what it said?”
Emory had trouble breathing as the truth the eldritch had showed her nestled in her heart. She steeled herself against it. “It just wanted to thank me for healing it. Did it speak to you?”
“It did not. I guess my freeing it deserved no thanks,” he said dryly. He searched her gaze. “Is there nothing else?”
“No.” Her mouth went thick with the lie. Her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. She jerked her chin to the canyon pass wherethe knights had gone. “Other than a shared thirst for vengeance. They should pay for the way they treat the eldritch.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“So let’s.”
He raised a bemused brow. “While I appreciate the bloodthirsty enthusiasm, I don’t think you and I can take all of them on. I may be a deity, but this body is frail. And you—”
“Not just the two of us. I have an idea.”
The appreciative look in his eye as she told him her plan made her think he was seeing her for the first time. Fitting, she thought, that she had seen the truth of him, too.
62BAZ
BAZ WOKE IN THE INFIRMARY, bruised and battered but with all his limbs intact. At least he thought so. Bleary-eyed, he surveyed his surroundings. All the beds around him were occupied with bandaged-up students. Cordie, he noticed, stood near the windows, red-eyed and with her arm in a sling, butalive. She spoke with a white-faced Polina. Outside, the sun was setting, casting them both in a golden glow.
