Kage's eyes lock onto mine. "The amulets and the memory stones. Are they connected?"
I nod, throat too tight for words.
"Why does that matter?" Naima whispers.
"The Sages would never allow the stones near the Hall of Gratitude." Kage's voice has gone thin. Afraid. "Right? They wouldn't let them anywhere near that place?"
"I don't know." My voice sounds strange to my own ears. "Would it matter?"
Kage laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Would it matter? The Everlasting is a siphoner, Ada. Cato can drain gifts from others and use them as his own. Why do you think the seerswent into hiding? Why do you think healers were hunted to near extinction?"
My stomach lurches. A siphoner. Someone who can steal gifts, consume them, wield them as weapons. I think of Jordi's theories about the amulets and memory stones. His conviction that they're connected to the Shroud somehow, feeding it, sustaining it. I think of the laborers screaming in the tunnels. Malachi must feel my panic through the bond, but I can't bring myself to care.
"Is Cato the siphoner, or is it the stone?" Naima's voice is barely audible. "Is it him, or the scepter?"
"There are theories," Kage says carefully. "Some believe the Mage's gifts were transferred into the scepter when Cato killed him. That the weapon itself holds the power, and Cato is just the one wielding it."
I force myself to swallow. "What do you believe?"
"I think it's the scepter," Kage says. "Cato relies on compulsion more than any other gift, and there are records of his eyes flashing amber when he uses it. The stone is amber. It can't be a coincidence."
I stare at him. "His eyes flash? Like the Sages?"
"Similar. The Sages' eyes flash silver because they were blessed by Ignata, who commands lightning. Cato's flash amber because his power comes from something else entirely." Kage's expression darkens. "Something older. Hungrier."
"I didn't know anyone else's eyes flashed," Naima breathes.
"It's rare, but not unheard of." Kage shakes his head. "But that's a tangent for another time."
"Agreed." I press my palms flat against the table to stop them from trembling. "Right now, I need to understand what the Council is doing with the memory stones. And what it has to do with this Everlasting."
"Does it truly matter?" Naima's voice rises, desperate. "Cato has never set foot in Lunaris. The Everlasting is just a name the Shadow Guild gave a rock. That doesn't make it a god. That doesn't make him one either."
I shake my head slowly. "That's not entirely true."
"How do you figure?"
"The Sages teach that everything is energy," I say slowly, piecing the thoughts together as I speak. "Our breath, our magic, the fabric of our being. Ancient cultures believed the same. Everything is cyclical. The circle of life. We are energy, and energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed."
"Right." Naima shrugs. "That's what Ignata's teachings are based on."
"Then consider this." I lean forward. "The only difference between a concept and a god is the energy we give it. One person's belief is just an idea. But gather a community around that idea, worship it together, build temples in its name, and suddenly that idea has power. Real power." I meet each of their eyes in turn. "And in this case, they took over an already existing temple that already had its own energy baked into it."
I let that sink in.
"Which is why we need the original map," Malachi says quietly. "We need to know what temple stood there before. And whether the memory stones are anywhere near it."
I nod, but my mind has already drifted. Back to the bridge. To the Shroudmaidens and their rasping voices.We remember you, empath. You were ours to claim.To the laborers dying in the tunnels, screaming for families they'd forgotten. To Margot's voice cracking as she described the pleasure gardens. The Council watching grief like entertainment.
A shudder tears through me, violent enough that Naima reaches for my hand. If Jordi is right, and the Shroud opens during the Reckoning, and Cato finds a way through …Gods.Repaying my debt will be the least of my worries. Surviving will be the only thing that matters.
And I'm not sure any of us will.
Chapter Fourteen
Sleep evades me for the third night in a row. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmares find me. My brother's manacled wrists. Glowing eyes in the dark. Whispers layered like echoes, crawling beneath my skin. The cold pressing into my spine, filling my lungs, dragging me under. The third time I jolt awake, gasping, I give up on sleep entirely.
I ease my door open, careful not to make a sound, and freeze when I see the outline of a figure in one of the wingback chairs. Large. Still. Watching the darkness like it might have something to say. The bond flares with awareness before I can retreat. He knows I'm here.
