I wanted to give you a clue about the scepter you seek. But now I'm not so sure.The Flame sways.You seem angry. Hostile. So unlike the girl who was willing to sacrifice everything for her brother.
I close my eyes and force myself to remember that this goddess saved my mother. She gave Pia sanctuary when no one else would.
I open my eyes. "You need this curse lifted as much as anyone."
Oh?The Flame flickers with interest.Have you been reading? Did you find the books the Sages hid from you? The history of your people? The truth?
My spine straightens. "I know the truth."
Since you're still standing, I assume you haven't told him.The Flame pulses.Not when he's spent the last two centuries sacrificing healers to the Bratus.
My blood turns to ice.
Of course, stasis has a way of obscuring memories. He may not remember. Or perhaps he does.
I shake my head. "No."
You don't believe me?
"No."
The Flame flares.You do know he's a warrior. He has killed many people. Some deserving. Some not.
Gods, I hate her. "I know what he is."
The Flame roars.Do you?
"What do you want?" I repeat.
Since this is the final Reckoning, I will give you two things.
"Wait." I step forward. "I don't want another bargain."
This requires no bargain.The Flame settles.I offer you this kindness because I loved your mother. And because I love your people.
I swallow. "Would asking if my mother is still alive require another bargain?"
The Flame goes still.I cannot speak of the dead. But my warrior might, if he trusts you enough to tell you about his debt.
The blood drains from my face.
He did not kill your mother.The Flame flickers.But that does not mean he bears no responsibility for the healers who came before you.
I can't breathe.
That is two kindnesses I'm giving you.
The third kindness is this: the Sages told you they feed the Shroud, but they do not know what lurks within it. That knowledge is crucial to lifting the curse.
I wait, barely breathing.
And the fourth: tell Malachi to bring you home. I will give you the scepter myself.
My ears ring. A thousand questions crowd my mind, but only one escapes.
"Is Noktemore my home?"
The Flame stills again.It is your birthplace. But you, my child, have no home.The words cut like blades.Your homeland was destroyed. Your birthplace was merely that: a place of birth. The kingdom you belong to does not want you. The place that raised you does not value you.
