61. Emmerick
Chapter 61
Emmerick
T he Egress dropped us into the halls of the South Tower. I ran toward the drawing room. I’d only been here once, for that dreadful meeting when I’d enraged Sybilla by allying with her cousins.
“Amara! It’s me, Emmerick. I’m not here to harm you.” Entering the room, I raised my hands.
Amara stood with one hand pressed against a pine desk, a black triangular stone next to her fingertips. She wore a simple beige dress with gold seams and brown boots. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed forlorn until she set her sight on me and brightened. “Emmerick? Thank the Sources—you are safe.”
Safe? Debatable. I wouldn’t worry her about that now.
As Amara gazed beyond me, her whole body stiffened.
“She is not here to harm you either,” I said, keeping my tone as calm as possible.
Amara stammered, “You—you are dead. How are you here?” A bright light formed in Amara’s palm, and she began to aim it. Her eyes burned with golden fury. “What have you done to him?”
I stepped into the path between Amara’s ball of sunlight and Firose.
“Please, please listen first,” I begged.
She glanced between me and Firose. With her glowing hand shaking, and her lip trembling, she said, “You never told me what Corric was. He never told me you were helping him.” Her voice cracked. “For centuries I thought you kept him from me, that you were hurting him. How? How are you here and he is not? Tell me that this memorandum is not a cruel trick.”
She motioned to the black stone on the desk before approaching.
“It had to be that way. You would not have given up on him if you knew Corric still loved you. His love for you was a liability. He wanted you safe. There is no room for love in Caym’s grasp.”
I looked Amara in the eyes. “Now he has me too. He’s risen to his full power; he is in the Sahlms. We can stop him…but I need your help.”
Amara’s posture straightened, and the light in her palms blinked out. Running her gaze over me, as though auditing for any sign of harm, she whispered, “I cannot lose you too.”
Firose stepped up beside me. She carefully said, “Then hear us out.”
“You lied to me for centuries,” Amara answered. She pressed her lips into a hard line.
Firose nodded once. “Yes. I have spent so many years hiding things. But you were always my friend, Amara…even when it did not feel that way to you.”
Firose’s words lingered between us like stale air, burning with truths she’d never say.
She’d spent decades helping Corric hide me from Caym and centuries before that training Asterie to be strong enough against him too. My birth father’s fall to the Death Origin had never been her fault. “I tried my hardest to save him for you,” she whispered.
“You have one minute to explain, Firose, before I decide to turn you over to Luz and let Asterie and Fen decide your fate,” Amara said, her head held high.
We explained as quickly as we could about what had occurred in Sahlmsara and what had transpired in Helos. About our whereabouts, about Caym’s hold on me. She listened but began pacing in front of us—I, too, could never seem to sit still.
With newfound vigor, Amara said, “I will Egress to Luz and gather the others. We don’t have time for any more reunions,” she said and eyed Firose with reluctant acceptance. “Stay here, away from where Caym might reach you.”
As she stepped toward the hall, she gave my shoulder a tight squeeze.
I glanced over at Firose, whose brow pinched. We heard the gentle whoosh of Amara Egressing out of the tower—only then did I let a sigh of relief escape me. Firose mirrored my slackened posture.
I started for the hall.
“Where are you going?”
“To Sahlmsara,” I said.
Sybilla might still be in the fray, might still be in Sahlmkar, and there was no way I’d hide across the realms while innocent people fell at the hands of a monster.
“Wait!” she called out and trailed me.
My brow furrowed. “You’re sure?”
Her eyes glistened with sapphire fire. “I will not hide from him any longer.”
She took my hand in the Egress, and our touch pulsed with our combined magic—palms heating. It felt like her flames grew between our fingers.
When we exited the Egress in Sahlmsara, a ghoulish gray face greeted us with a curdling shriek. I reached for the phantom sword at my side. My fingers didn’t make purchase on anything.
A rag was shoved to my nose, and arms wrapped around my neck. Firose squeaked, but was quickly pulled out of my grasp.
“Emmerick!” she screamed before a cloth was shoved over her mouth too.
Hands grasped me from all sides. Horrendous creatures surrounded us. I grew rapidly light-headed, limp and weak—whatever was on that cloth made my attempts to wield my Source power useless. We had no defense against the Moirai.
Why not just kill us now?
Everything blurred around me as they dragged us by our legs down the cobblestone streets of Sahlmsara toward a behemoth domed, open-air structure made of rough, pale marble.