Page 96 of Claimed By the Depths

“Wait,” Kael jutted, his shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. “I think I… I think I might have a piece of the puzzle that I’ve kept to myself because I did not know how to explain it.”

Heads swiveled in his direction, some gazes narrowed in disbelief, and others widened in hope. A mix of betrayal and anger swelled over me at his admittance, knowledge that he’d been harboring that could have potentially served far more benefit if it’d been given sooner.

“The Others' influence may corrupt the palace, but it offered me time to learn. According to each ancient scroll, Wraelira was flooded with magic before the Others came to be. The story of good and evil in those texts, words crafted by either historical recollection or mere fantasy, hinted at the intention of the Others when read as one.” Voice wavering, Kael nipped at his bottom lip. “As has been confirmed, the rise of the Others wasn’t something that happened overnight. They were first lesser-born before transforming into the entities they are today.

“The war on Narvendor that Lorelie mentioned was the start of damnation, for each Divari they slaughtered gave them a hit of the respective god’s power. The carvings they wear link them to their victims, a ritualistic sacrifice where they would etch blade into skin to form a bind, similar to Caspian. Once it was set, they would feast, consuming both life force and soul from their victims. So the divide in realms came as a result of the Others draining each god of a fragment of their abilities throughout time, up until they were weak enough for the Others to take over. And that’s exactly what I think they’re trying to attempt again.”

“They are,” Lorelie confirmed. “In speaking to the five gods of this realm, when we were enlightened about the double-sided fate, they expressed concern regarding Wraelira becoming what Narvendor is now. Which, if that does happen, as I stated once before, this realm will become a mirror of the dystopia that feeds off Narvendor’s lands. As you all know, the five Divari share counterparts just as their parents do. You need both keys to rid the realm of all that awaits. Without the five of you and the five of them, there will be nothing.”

A hissed scoff came from Rohen. “You’ve kept this from us for what godsdamned reason when our lives are the ones you are speaking of?”

“I was unable to fully divulge,” Lorelie stated, her honeydew irises glinting with sorrow. “The nuances of Sorva’s binds have some of us far more silenced than others. Where some can wield abilities, they may not be able to shift, while others may be able to shift but cannot wield. Some are capable of doing both, but at a cost, which is why we’ve only been able to gift you pieces of our truths as well as the prophecy. Until now, when it is evident that Sorva has diverted her focus from us and our enlightenment to all Kael shared. There is something brewing, something that will serve as a replica of what occurred on Narvendor, and I believe she’s done exactly this—layered the webs of fate—for a reason.”

“Which is?” Caspian prodded, his agitation palpable.

“To get us back to Serevalen, and to reinstate your bind. You’ve been out of her proximity for a while, which has proven beneficial, but she has not vanished. The corruption she feeds on has started eating away at everything you are, but your soul tie with Rohen is what keeps you strong. Sorva’s goal, as it has always been, is to weaken. It is how the divided gods came to be in the beginning, and as Kael said, she is working to replicate just that.” She clenched her jaw, tongue roving over her teeth. “She is confident in whatever she is doing, and we need to be prepared for that as soon as we dock in Serevalen.”

“What if we don’t?” Leilani looked to her other half, her query one she already knew the damning answer to. “If that is what awaits, why the fuck would we go back there?”

“Because it is how fate is woven…” I practically whispered.

Caspian glanced in my direction. “What did you say?”

“The webs of fate.” Putting the reference together, I addressed Lorelie, “There was another piece of the prophecy on Caspian’s desk that I spent some time with, and I feel it may offer some insight.”

A liveliness returned to her. “Do you recall what it said?”

Before I could apologize for my inadequacies in doing so, Caspian spoke, “A thousand legs have spun this thread. A thousand eyes have watched them bled—from shores unseen and silent tiers that never surface, yet draw near. What slumbers deep will wake anew and feast on those who never knew their shadows walked on other sides. The heart of stone, the crown of glass, a windowed throne, the ages pass. A name once known, now left to pass, once spoken whole, now split in half. Two princes stand—one flame, one shade, yet mirrors lie where choices fade. Tread now with care, for blades are true; not all crowned gold is loyal or new. Strike the king, let iron fate fall free, or doom both throne and rolling sea.”

“What the fuck…” Alastair mumbled, his disbelief a sign of both surprise and horror.

“That”—Lorelie’s breath hitched—“is forbidden word.”

“The Others.” Hurrying to Lorelie’s side, Ignis lent her a hand. “It’s in their decree.”

“Admittance,” Parran clarified. “As we know, they’ve spent centuries weaving the course of history in their favor, leveraging Divari, Shifters, Fae, and gods alike. Once only distant observers, they fed on the blood and souls of those capable of granting them power. But now, emerged and known, they’re ready to continue what they started and fully eradicate the gods, as they are already split.” They paused for a moment, fingers drumming along their jaw. “The two mirrored princes hint at Kael and the Sane brother on Narvendor, suggesting the divided continents. So, in a long-winded way, it’s a tale of what’s happened, and confirmation that the deceptive reigns of the two kings have been wholly unnecessary because the Others have always been there.”

“So everything that has led up to this moment has been premeditated by the Others, because they’ve always held the cards of fate?” I questioned, and even though I knew the answer, every ounce of my essence recoiled in refusal.

“It’s always been a battle of fate.” Ignis looked between each of us, his brows furrowed. “Gods above, since Parran doesn’t wish to be direct, I will. The passage isn’t only an admission from the Others, but confirmation that the gods have played the game just as equally. You’ve been coaxed in the direction of demise, as the Others intended, because you are the Damned’s last chance.” Jaw feathering with the willingness to take on the backlash, he continued, “I hate to be the one to bear the news, but your parents, the gods, are nowhere near as gracious as they’ve led you all to believe. Truths have been spun, and lies have been told to ensure you would follow their path because, to them, there is only winning this war or watching the realm they created descend into madness.”

Silence.

None of the three Divari spoke, the weight of Ignis’ utterance far too much for them to bear. Where they’d extended trust, they’d been met with manipulation, every way in which they saw their parents dissolving into nothing.

Fist slamming into the Fae’s chest, Lorelie slung her disapproval at Ignis. “You speak it as if the gods do not⁠—”

“I’m fucking done,” Rohen stated with finality as she shoved herself up from where she sat.

“Ro.” Caspian went to grab her, but she was already gone, storming toward his chambers with indignation nipping at her heels. Not wasting a second, he followed suit, offering Alastair a single glance before he disappeared into the shadows.

“Parran,” the captain of the Scarlet Tempest commanded, his tone unwavering. “Let’s go.”

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for⁠—”

“Now,” Alastair snarled.

Approaching his captain, the Fae tucked their chin to their chest, regret consuming his cornflower gaze. Leilani was quick to follow, settling a comforting hand on Alastair’s shoulder before the three of them vanished.