Page 85 of The City Of Fractured Memory

She squeezes my arm, fixing me with a serious look. “Don’t be afraid of it, things aren’t always what they seem. We wanted to protect you, Octavia. And when a fate as heavy as yours rests on your shoulders…let’s just say, it doesn’t hurt to be the most powerful person in the room.”

Thirty-Six

The apartment feels smaller than I remember. The air hangs heavy with city soot and candle smoke, a harsh contrast to Lunoreth’s fresh, biting air. Night has fallen outside, the hum of footfall teetering into silence, and I stare outside the window at the city that surrounds us, reminding me that we’re back in the world of stone and iron and consequence. A world where I have to hide my hair, and with it, my heritage.

Stryx perches by the window, her ears curved inward as she traces shapes in the condensation, her expression tight.

“You know we should go after the cult,” she says at last. “We have strong leads now. The tattoos, the deaths—all of it ties back to that group. If we can find them, maybe we can stop whoever’s–”

“No.”

I sit down at the table, leaning over the scattered pages of my notes and sketches, my hair falling into my face, illuminated by the flickering firelight. The white strands catch the light like threads of glass, and for the first time in my life, I find myself appreciating the beauty of it.

“Stryx, we’ve been chasing scraps for too long. All we’ve found are corpses and riddles. We still have no tangible evidence. If I can access the victims’ memories, I might be able to see what happened. My aunt said it could be possible now, if I use the right kind of magic.”

Stryx turns, frowning. “It’s also dangerous.”

I take a breath, forcing my hands to still. “I can access it now. I have to try, Stryx. Someone out there wants to tear the Veil apart, and if those memories hold even a fragment of truth, it might tell us who.”

Stryx studies me for a long moment. The faint shimmer in her eyes gives away the worry she’s trying to hide.

“You really think you can pull their memories back?”

“Not all of them. Just...echoes, maybe. Like the ripples left after a stone hits water. Like Osiris said, there’s always something that can be recovered.”

Stryx folds her arms. “And what if what you find drowns you instead?”

I look up at her, tired, but resolute.

“Then you’ll have to drag me out again, won’t you?”

That earns me a reluctant huff of laughter from Stryx, more air than sound, but it breaks the tension enough for her to nod.

“Fine,” she mutters. “But if your aunt finds out I let you try this without practicing first she’ll turn me into a damn tree spirit.”

I laugh with a slight edge of hysteria. “Do I want to know what that is?”

She shakes her head seriously.

Comforting.

We fall into an awkward silence and I busy myself by gathering the papers into a neat stack, my mind already spinning with possibilities. Outside, thunder rolls across the city, soft, but close, like the sound of something waking inside the heavy mists. Stryx watches me from across the room as the rain begins to patter softly against the window.

She breaks the silence first.

“You’ve barely said a word about Lunoreth since we came back.”

My mouth twitches into something that I think almost resembles a smile. “You’d think finding out I’m not who I thought I was would leave me with more to say.”

“It’s nothing to joke about, Octavia. You’re half Echofae. That’s…extraordinary.”

I look up at her sharply. “It’s impossible. Or at least, it was supposed to be. I grew up believing my parents were ordinary mortal people. That I was ordinary. And now I’m being told that my dreams aren’t actually dreams, but somehow I’ve been astral projecting, and that I’m part of some ancient lineage with a world-ending prophecy attached to my name.” I shake my head, laughing once—a hollow sound. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel.”

Stryx stands and steps closer, her eyes softening.

“You don’t have to know. Not yet. But pretending it doesn’t matter won’t make it go away.”

“I’m not pretending.” My voice steadies, firm now. “I just…can’t let this be everything. Not when people are still dying. Not when I don’t even know what the prophecy means. Maybe if I finish this case—if I find who’s behind the murders—it’ll make sense. Maybe then I’ll finally get some closure on all this.”