I release a breath and look down. This is the difficult part. The part where I have to admit my failures. “Nothing.”
Maethrel lifts a brow, sitting still. Making the silence seem thicker than air. “Well, the diadem. I think it’s in the castle somewhere. Elves are too full of themselves, and too selfish to let such a relic get far from them.” Maethrel grins, nodding in acknowledgment. Like he already knows but doesn’t want to tell me. For whatever reason.
Daegan listens with rapt attention. I would almost dare to say that he looks… excited. He’s still hiding it well, though.
They’re all waiting for me to continue. “That’s all I have, unfortunately.”
“Why does it say four, but there are only three listed?” I shift my gaze to Daegan, nodding in agreement. It’s something I’ve also been pondering since I found the passage.
“That’s one of my questions,” I say.
“Is the fire the fourth item?” Raef chimes in, sounding utterly lost but completely giddy all at once.
“I thought that at first, but I don’t think so. It talks about reuniting the four items before casting them into the fire.”
Daegan nods like he agrees. Raef looks baffled.
Maethrel looks at us smugly, like he knows every answer but he’s waiting for us to reach it on our own. It’s quite annoying.
“Care to offer any insight?” My tone is snarkier than I’d normally be.
He slowly nods his head. His silence making me even more angry. What did I come all this way for if he has nothing new to offer me?
“Can you tell me about the witch part?”
He raises an eyebrow, urging me to continue with his eyes.
“It doesn’t need to be her, right? Because if it does, we’re doomed. She’s been dead for centuries.”
“The witch who cast the curse?” Raef asks.
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?” Raefs asks again.
“You don’t know this story?” I ask, surprised. They do live in a completely different region of the continent, and they allegedly don’t leave it often. I know nothing of their customs, what they study, what they even know of the rest of the world. So it makes sense they may not know a lot of stories I grew up hearing either.
I’m about to tell it, but Daegan cuts in with a sigh.
“Someone else thought they could break the curse by killing the witch who cast it. Their theory was proven wrong. Obviously.”
Maethrel nods in acknowledgement. “My grandmother. Ethmarel.”
I whip my head to him. “I had a feeling. Or at least, I had hoped.”
“Your blood might work,” Daegan says.
“Perhaps,” Maethrel responds in that irksome way.
“But who cuts it?” I ask, glancing around at our small party. “The one born from ember… a dragon?”
Raef raises his eyebrow in approval, looking hopeful.
Maethrel doesn’t look like he’s in agreement.
“If you know all these answers, why won’t you just tell us?”
His eyes flutter shut for a moment, and for the first time, I see sorrow and sadness in his expression, even with his eyes shut. “My most powerful magicis seer magic. I have seen the outcomes. Some things I can tell you, and some, you have to discover on your own. Otherwise, all is lost.”
