I nodded, one hand adjusting my dark green cloak, the other already finding the runes in my coat pocket. Smooth stone with sharp edges cutting into my palm. The familiar weight should have been comforting. Instead, it felt like carrying pebbles to fight a dragon. The witches were never safe. And if this was a culling of some sort... Well, I wasn’t about to go down without a fight.
A child wailed somewhere behind us. An elderly man stumbled, nearly taking down three others before strong hands caught him. The rain kept coming, soaking through wool and leather until we all looked like drowned rats.
“This is madness,” a baker muttered, flour still dusting his apron. “What could be so urgent they’d call us out in this weather?”
“Maybe the Oracle’s finally going to tell us something useful,” his companion replied.
“The Oracle?” The baker’s voice pitched higher. “She’s here?”
Word spread like wildfire. The Oracle. Here in Grimora. Whispers multiplied, speculation building until the air hummed with nervous energy. Eda Mire was right. Her warnings now sat like an anchor in my gut. Nothing good would come of this.
A sprite zipped past my head, squeaking frantically. “Make way! Make way!”
Another followed, then another, their usual grace replaced with chaos and a hurriedness that bled into the crowd. One sprite slammed into a street lamp and bounced off, righting itself with a shake before diving back into the masses.
Even the messengers were breaking.
“Calder.” I had to raise my voice over the noise.
“I know.” His jaw was tight, eyes scanning the rooftops. Looking for escape routes that didn’t exist. “Whatever this is, we stay together. Whatever happens, you follow my lead.”
“What about Vitoria?”
He was quiet for too long. “She’ll find us if she can.”
If she can.Vitoria’s empty bed haunted me. Tonight felt different. Wrong. She’d been there with us when I fell asleep. As far as Calder and I knew, no red-haired sprite had come to summon her. And he would have woken. He was always watching. She’d just vanished.
The crowd surged forward, carrying us whether or not we wanted to go. A shifter kept sprouting ears, then losing them; his control shattered by the overwhelming scent of fear. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated. Fight or flight warred across his features, and I wondered which instinct would win.
My own blood sang with unwanted fire, my Phoenix nature burning to answer fear with flame, to light a path through the crowd and find somewhere safe to hide. I pressed the feeling down until my bones ached, until the heat was just another discomfort to ignore.
The Grand Platform rose ahead like a stone altar, warded against the rain. Hunters ringed its base in perfect formation, their weapons catching occasional flashes of the lightning.
I found the Ripper immediately. He stood at his father’s right hand, eyes moving through the crowd with mechanical precision. Cataloging faces. Memorizing features. Probably filing away information for later use. When his gaze swept over our section, I forced myself to look away, to hide within the walls of my hood.
But I could feel him searching. Always searching. The definition of a perfect hunter.
“Be calm,” Calder breathed.
The Magistrate stepped forward, commanding instant silence. Rain plastered his silver hair to his skull, but his posture remained regal, untouchable. He raised one hand, and even the storm seemed to quiet in response. His voice carried with magic that certainly wasn’t his, but rather a witch he employed or a rune nearby. “Citizens of Grimora, visitors from all over Fuerlis, friends, tonight, you witness something that has not occurred in over a century. Tonight, prophecy walks among us.”
Tiberius gestured off stage, and runes were activated, creating a magical barrier around the platform, shielding those on top from the rain. The murmurs started again, rippling through the crowd.
“A century?”
“What prophecy?”
“A fury-born?”
“I heard it’s the Oracle.”
“Impossible,” a scorched woman near us whispered, dragging her children closer.
The Magistrate cleared his throat and again gestured to someone beyond the platform’s edge. Calder tensed, perfect stillness before violence, muscles coiled and ready to spring. Orrun. I had no doubt that man would grab me and toss me over his shoulder just to leave faster if needed. I never knew why he’d attached himself to me after Eda Mire introduced us, but she claimed it was because we each needed a family. So we made our own.
Whatever the reason, he would die for me, but I knew I would die for him too. All three of our mothers had proven that’s what family did for each other. My roaming thoughts were jerked back to the rainy nightmare as the crowd died to whispers. Then to nothing. Silent. Still.
She emerged like something from a fever dream.
