"Draven leaves for Vindariel soon. I need you to go with him."
He blinks. "Are you coming?"
I glance at the door. "I can't. Not yet."
"Then neither can I."
"You have to," I say, drawing out each word in hopes that they sink in. "The Council took you to the Hall of Gratitude to feed the Everlasting. Constantine has a chip of the amber stone. The actual Everlasting. That's how he channels Cato's power."
Jordi's eyes widen. "His ring. I saw it when they brought me in. It was glowing."
"Glowing?"
"Faintly. Like it was ..." He shudders. "Drinking something. I thought I imagined it."
I remember the amber flash in Constantine's eyes at the square. I didn't imagine that. And I didn't imagine the wrongness in that temple.
"I don't know what it means for Cato." I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. "But the Council will come looking for you."
He studies me. "You spoke to Sara."
I nod, blinking back fresh tears. "She told me everything."
"About the Shroud? The stones?"
"Everything."
"Did she tell you I wrote those messages on the walls?"
My eyebrows shoot up. "No." A laugh escapes me despite everything. "Gods, Jordi. You are the most brilliant idiot I know."
He grins. "I try."
"Who else? Just you?"
"A few others." His expression darkens. "It doesn't matter. The 'renegades' stopped. Most of them got scared."
Of course they did. It happens every time. Every rise and fall of civilization. Every time one group deems themselves superior, whether by class, skin color, sex, or the gods they worship, they use the same tactics.
Sometimes they strike at the perceived leader. Other times, they target loved ones. Or silence the loudest voices first. Whatever it takes to instill enough fear that the rest fall in line.
It happens with pack animals. With certain hawks. With raffins. The thought gives me pause.
I think about Cato. His scepter. The way he compels people to follow him, to bend to his will. Constantine doesn't have a scepter. He has something worse. Erasure. Suppression. The Shroud.
He erased the gods from memory. Turned them into costumes for the Moon Festival. Characters to dress as, never beings to worship. No. Worship is reserved for the Everlasting. And even that, he doesn't call a god.
He uses altered incantations to bend residents to his will. Memory stones to feed the Shroud. Amulets as weapons of fear. No one dares remove them. No one wants to be blamed for letting the Shroudmaidens in.
I would call him clever, but there's little convincing needed when you've stripped away someone's memories. His flowery speeches, his posturing. They're for his benefit, not theirs.
"The Sages said you went to the Keep on purpose."
He sighs. "I thought I could spare you some pain. Move the stones so they could no longer feed the Shroud. Give those people a chance to ..."
"Survive once the Shroud is gone?"
"Yes." His eyes are full of sorrow. "But the memory stones can't be moved. I tried."
