“Those cursed with elemental Wielding, with dark magic. Those who abuse the gifts of the gods.”
She’s trembling like a leaf in the wind—out of anger or fear, I cannot tell.
“What makes the magic of others different from yours?”
“No mortal should be allowed such unlimited power. To summon flames, water, wind, to manipulate the earth, the skies. It’s an abomination. My people utilize our imbuing powers for good. The few of us that were once tainted have Cleansed our blood of that undeserved power. We will Cleanse all of Erleya. And then the gods will rise again and walk among us.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “The gods? Walk among us?”
Her eyes grow distant. She begins to recite her words as if she’s practiced them for years. “The fall of the gods will begin with the rebirth of the Enchantress Queen. The daughter of Agryna and Ehlach—bearer of the curse of the enchantress—shall unleash chaos on the kingdom. Unless the ultimate sacrifice is made to Caiolair.”
My skin crawls from her words. “Who is Caiolair? And what sacrifice?”
“Caiolair is the god of balance. The sacrifice he requires is a life for a life.”
Lierwen and Rhianu are the father and mother of the gods—they hold the pantheon in balance. Ordid.
The same confusion that I’m sure is on my face twists Chiyo’s. She crosses her arms, and Ava steps forward, a domineering presence. “A life for a life?” she asks. “Whose life?”
The woman turns sharply to Ava. Tiernan translates her spoken words for me: “The lives of the Heirs of Dusk and Embers. Of the one touched by fire and of the lost Heir with the corrupted powers of Ehlach—of the abhorrent Basduunai. They both must be destroyed.”
My stomach twists.
“And your people seek to … terminate the Heirs?” Ava asks.
A grin splits the woman’s face. “For the greater good.”
Ava rolls her eyes not so subtly. “Where did you get your information from?”
“Our high priestess, Nimue, the greatest oracle of our time. Has spoken the truth about the doom upon Erleya. The Heirs must be destroyed, and the Zenith must be stopped as they seek to bring Erleya back to its corrupt magical existence.”
“How many of you are out there? And where do you reside?” Ava asks.
“We are countless, and we are everywhere. We won’t give up until we rid the land of all aberrations.” She blows hair from her face and focuses her hateful eyes on me. “I’m not the only one in search of you, Basduun. My kin will find you. And when they do, they’ll end the Basduunai bloodline once and for all.”
I don’t notice I’m shaking until Ava, Chiyo, and Tiernan’s attention is fully on me. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling the quake from deep within my body, my chest growing tighter until it pains me. I back away and rush out of the room, refusing to stop until I’m outside. Doubled over, I fight to regulate my harsh breathing.
A moment later, the lightest touch on my back causes me to jump so hard that I nearly fall over. “Just me,” Chiyo quickly signs. “Just me.”
I nod and put my hands atop my head, still trying to breathe. The world around me blurs and wavers. I close my eyes and force more breaths down. An entire group of people wants to kill me. Countless members. Everywhere.
The ground beneath me seems to shift and warp. A burning presence taps against my mind. Just as it starts to flitter out of my reach, I grab on to it, commanding it to stay. Commandingherto stay.
“Carys,” I mentally grind out.
Her safe place is always on a ship, always in the sunlight. I bring the images to mind, grounding myself in it. I feel the floor of the ship materialize beneath my boots, the waves rocking the vessel. I will the sun to shine, the wind to whip. Desperately trying to lure her to this place, I send my thoughts out toward Carys. With all my might, I fight to reach her.
“Carys, find me.” My words are swept out into the ocean air, but I call to her once more. “Carys, please.”
“Durvla?”
I turn, the wind whipping through my curls, and there she is.
But rather than the radiant Carys that I last saw, there’s a sickly thin woman, her skin paler than ever, her once lively amber eyes like rusted gold.
“Durvla!” She lifts her foot as if to step forward, but seems to change her mind and steps backward instead. I feel my own legs gravitate toward her.
But when I touch her, it’s like touching air. Not like before. Her internal flame seems to flicker—to barely be there. Everything feels wrong about her. Like a bird with its wings clipped, longing to soar. Tears stain her sallow face, as well as something that faintly resembles a scar.
