“I understand better than most that some candors are harder to share than others. And some lies are meant to protect oneself or others, although they end up doing more harm than good,” I say, stealing a glance at Killian. Something akin to regret swims in his hooded eyes as he stares directly into my battered soul.
“You are a better person than I could ever wish to be, little umbra,” he whispers for only my ears to hear. An unspoken moment passes between us, one of mourning.
A sense of melancholy washes over me at what could have been if only he had extended me the same grace I am showing Sariah. But what good can it bring us to dwell on the past much longer?
“I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you have a brother,” I say, facing her once again.
“Oh, believe me, kitty cat, you haven’t missed out on anything with that one. He’s a real piece of work,” Blaise interjects in his jolly voice, gaining asmack over the head from Sariah. “Ouch! What? It’s true! Your brother is something else.”
“Soren is as committed to the cause as I am. He’s overseeing the border crossing of our warriors from the other side, and he will be joining us soon.”
“How many warriors do you have in this order of yours?” Killian asks, voice sharp and calculating. The softness has disappeared from the edges of his appearance; his presence is once again commanding, that of a true king.
“Thousands,” Sariah answers. “Soldiers, spies, courtesans, Fae from all over the kingdom. Some will stay behind to be our eyes and ears in the Fae court.”
Killian grunts his approval before addressing Blaise.
“And you’ve taken care of things on our end for their arrival?”
“Yes, Mattya and Axel are in charge of welcoming the groups as they reach Drovillan, directing them to the castle. For now, they’ve been occupying the barracks and the servants’ quarters, but we’ll move them into the city as more show up.”
“So that’s where the boys disappeared to,” Sariah says with a sly smile painted on her face. “I’ve been wondering where those hotties are.”
Blaise makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, but ignores her comment.
I wonder what that’s about?
“What can you tell us about the prophecy?” Killian asks, seemingly oblivious to the awkward shift in the room’s energy.
“Our Order was founded by Ereshkygall herself,” Sariah answers, and my pulse spikes. She knows about Ereshkygall too? Why is the Goddess of Death so tangled up in this story?
“Before the last ancient battle between good and evil, a vision showed itself to the Gods. The outcome was bleak, and there would be only one survivor. A keeper of the prophecy, tasked with keeping thememory of what had passed alive. The Gods died on the battlefield, except for Ereshkygall. She went into hiding, but not before she gave my ancestors the mission to wait in the shadows for the birth of the Foretold One. The one that would end the cycle of violence.”
“We know about Ereshkygall,” I say, my voice above a whisper. “K’haram helped me unlock a memory of a vision I had when I got my powers. We need to find her, but we don’t even fucking know where to begin our search.”
“K’haram?” Blaise asks quizzically.
“The last dragon,” I answer at the same time as Sariah.
“Wait, you know about him too? You know what’s going on?”
My mind is swimming with endless questions. Everything is painfully connected, and yet I don’t hold any answers.
“I do,” she answers, “but this is not my story to tell. My role is to help you find the Goddess. The secret of her resting place has been passed down from one generation to the next in my family.”
“Where is she?” Killian asks, coming to stand fully behind me. His hand on my shoulder tenses slightly in anticipation.
“Deep in the belly of the Saunoque Mountains. There’s a system of tunnels and caves erased from the annals of history.”
“Umbra, we can shadow travel there immediately.”
The feverish urgency in Killian’s tone matches my own. Evident cracks fracture his composed exterior. He’s as ready as I am to get to the bottom of all of this.
“No, you can’t,” Sariah interjects. “I can give you the location of the hidden entryway to the cave system, but from there you’ll have to go on foot. Magical wards protect the entire underground maze against shadow-walking. You’ll have to pass a series of trials too.”
“Trials?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Now we have to jump through fucking hoops, or what?”
“I don’t know the exact nature of the trials, only that they are magically designed to be passed by the prophesied saviors and no one else. A failsafe to ensure nobody else stumbles upon the slumbering Goddess.”
