“Your mother wrote the history,” Riven said. “Korenth is trying to write the finale.”
“What does it mean?” Dane asked.
“I don’t know the mechanics,” Riven admitted, frustration tightening his jaw. “But Korenth spoke of it as a celestial alignment. A window of opportunity. He intends to use the canister of Eamon’s magic as the ignition source to tear open a Rift when that alignment peaks.”
“A Rift to where?” I asked.
“To whatever hell Korenth plans to let in,” Riven said. “The augmented soldiers are the infantry. Quinn Tower’s sub-basement holds something worse—empty shells he created to be filled once that door opens.”
Nausea hit me. They bled Eamon dry to power the end of theworld. “We know when,” I said. “But we have no idea how to stop it, let alone close a Rift we don’t understand.”
“We need intel,” Riven said. “We need to know exactly what this Eclipse is.”
He looked at me, his gaze intense.
“The books,” he said. “Liora’s research. They are at the Manor. There are diagrams there, Selene. Star charts. Translations I couldn’t finish.”
“You think the answer is in there?”
“I think your mother knew exactly what Korenth was planning over twenty years ago,” Riven said. “And she left instructions on how to stop it.”
“Then we go to your house,” I decided. “We tear those books apart until we find a weakness.”
Dane pushed off the wall. “I’m driving.”
“No,” Riven said.
He looked at Dane. His gaze held no hostility, yet a cold, impenetrable barrier remained.
“You are not coming to the Manor.”
Dane bristled, his hands curling into fists. “I’m her partner.”
“And that is my home,” Riven said quietly.
He just refused, offering no explanation or excuse. I looked at him, seeing the way his shoulders were set, the protective tension radiating off him. He guarded that house like a fortress. It was the only place in the world that was truly his, and he didn’t trust easily.
Dane opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
“It’s ok, Dane.”
I reached out and put a hand on Dane’s arm. Beneath the wool of his jacket, the muscle was trembling. The adrenaline from the extraction had faded, leaving him grey-faced and stiff. He was running on fumes and stubbornness.
“I can fight,” he insisted, though his voice was thin.
“Not tonight,” I said softly. “Look at me.”
He turned, his amber eyes full of frustrated loyalty.
“You just walked out of a hospital bed with a spine that is barely knit together. If you come with us, you’ll collapse before we even get to the place.”
“I’m not leaving you with him,” Dane growled, shooting a glare at Riven.
“I know,” I said. “But I need you here. If we all disappear now, Morrow will send a manhunt. He’ll think we’re regrouping for an attack.”
I squeezed his arm.
“I need a ghost, Dane. No one saw you at the tower. As far as Morrow knows, you’re still recovering.”
