Chapter 35
FATES’ PUPPETS
Seryn
On the way to Hallowed End, I told my sister and Yaya about the runebound bargain and about our journey through the Void. And then even my grandmother’s eyes held a wistful sheen when I relived the Kollao ceremony.
“Did the words ‘Magister Barden is a Druik runemaster’ just come out of your mouth?” Letti squealed.
I laughed. “Yes! He was incredible, with all these glowing tattoos—it’s like he can manipulate the air, draw runes with it.”
Yaya smiled, marching ahead. “Jace has been with the Korax longer than you realize.”
My mouth fell open.
“No one really knows the full extent of his gift; he keeps that to himself.” She shrugged. “But he’s guided countless Druiks to strongholds throughout Midst Fall.” He even helped Caelora get here when she was younger.”
We reached the long bridge that led to our sacred destination. I squinted through the haze. “Ah, so that’s why he seemed so curious about her in Surrelia.”
Letti nudged my shoulder. “I would think that kind of journey bonds people,” she offered.
My mouth pinched in thought. “You’ve forgiven her, then?” I asked my grandmother.
“In times like these, you learn to forgive when you can.” Her fists tightened at her side. “But I won’t forget.”
After a few moments of silence, I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I … I wanted to apologize for how I acted when I first woke up here. I am so happy to see you both, and you deserve better.”
Yaya flapped her hand in the air. “Nonsense, girl. You barely escaped Phobetor and the Void. Your fated was injured. Ancients, what matters is that we are all here, ready to take on the next day.”
I touched her arm, dipping my chin. Letti gave me a side hug. “Yes, what Yaya said.” She giggled, and the sound washed over me. “I’m proud of you, sis. You’ve become someone the Ancients need to fear.”
I scoffed. “I think you might have suffered a head injury.” Her quiet shrug answered me, her compliment left to simmer. I continued, “And I’m grateful for Xeni. Are you two happy?”
Her smile lit up her eyes. “We are. She’s everything I didn’t realize I needed in a partner. And you should see how unbothered she is around Fath—my father,” she corrected herself.
“You deserve every happiness,” I said.
“You both do. We all do,” Yaya murmured.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind us. I spun, hand on my dagger.
I was a bit jumpy these days.
“Easy, cousin.” Marek held his quarterstaff diagonally before him.
My shoulders relaxed, and I wrapped my arms around him before thinking better of it. He stiffened, then patted my back awkwardly.
Rhaegar grinned behind him. I leaped into his arms; he squeezed me tight. “Safe and sound, I see,” he said affectionately.
“Same to you. Well done on taking back Helos. What, no Bree? Hiding from her?” I peeked behind his broad frame.
Marek scowled.
“No one hides from that woman,” Rhaegar guffawed. “She’s like a bloodhound. No, she’s likely stalking some poor fellow, or stabbing someone.”
Marek’s frown ground deeper into his face.
A soft rustle brought my attention to Xeni, waiting patiently. “A pleasure to see you again, Seryn,” she said as Letti linked arms with her.
My sister studied Marek with a stern eye. He was her cousin, too, but she clearly hadn’t spent enough time with him to get under his skin yet. The corners of my lips quirked. Letti would have him wrapped around her little finger in due time.
“You as well.” I touched Xeni’s forearm. “Thank you for watching over my sister.”
“Think nothing of it,” she replied, brushing her fingers over Letti’s. “I would have done it even if you hadn’t asked.”
Letti kissed her cheek, and I glanced at my cousin as he leaned closer to Yaya.
“Did I hear you speak of the traitor?” Marek bit the last word out.
“How long were you back there stalking us?” Letti teased.
He glowered, mumbling, “I should’ve ended her in Surrelia. The pretty boy better be keeping his word.”
Yaya swatted his chest and led us onto the swaying bridge.
“Kaden’s been her shadow, much to her dismay.
Caelora’s always kept to herself. If she’d told us who her father was sooner, she might’ve avoided a good deal of trouble.
The ravens would’ve backed her. But what’s done is done.
She’ll be the first to volunteer to hunt him down, I’m sure. ”
“And you trust her after what she did?” Marek accused.
Our grandmother narrowed her eyes. “I trust she wants revenge on Elder Ash, and that we’re aligned in taking down the rest. For now, that’s enough.”
A throbbing hum sliced through the damp haze ahead. Light bled away from the center of the platform, rippling along a glowing semicircle curving around the back edges.
My gaze dragged over the three massive conservatories, half-submerged in mucky water. Their glass domes peeled back to expose the pulsating radiance from within. Swirling liquid-like blackness leaked from the activated amber vessels.
Ice skittered up my back. “Dormancy pods?” I croaked.
Yaya circled the perimeter and pointed up. “Look him in the eye.”
My attention snapped upward. Nyxvein slithered from each pod and condensed into a furious eddy high above the platform.
It hissed and popped. And in the center of the roiling tangle was the Ancient of Nightmares, his body writhing and contorting.
His eyes, blacker than night, pinned me where I stood, hatred boiling in them.
His aura leaked from his misty bindings, only to be swallowed by them. Even trapped, he oozed menace.
Marek came to my side. “You weakened him enough to make him malleable. We dragged him here while he was unconscious. Jace made quick work of locking him up.”
Etched symbols glowed atop the planks under the Ancient’s shadow, golden motes floating from the rune before vanishing into the mist.
“Give yourself credit where credit is due, boy,” Yaya called.
Ignoring our grandmother, my cousin’s sapphire eyes bored into Phobetor as he cracked his neck from side to side, hand gripping his staff. His muscles bunched under his bare, scarred torso, and a flicker of his black flames shivered over his body.
Rhaegar scrubbed a large hand over his chin. “Your cousin opened the pods. Quite impressive. Never seen anyone but the Elders or Akridais do that.”
My mouth pulled to the side. The image of the Akridais who’d opened Hestia’s pod during her culling flashed behind my eyes. I pushed it away; the memory of dark ember clashing in Phobetor’s nightmare prison replaced them. “You were in the tombs, cousin?”
Marek nodded. “The vryka used Phobetor’s ring to open the portal for the others. Pretty boy found me.”
I waited for him to continue, but he clamped his mouth shut, gaze flicking toward the shadows where the Nyxvein writhed.
Xeni’s eyes never left the Ancient, her hand locked around Letti’s. “Marek insisted on going back through. Said he’d be damned if he let his cousin rot in limbo,” she added matter-of-factly.
My sister grinned, and I bit down on my bottom lip.
With a glower, Marek walked away, inspecting the conservatories and poking them with his quarterstaff.
“So, Thesa and Therrok didn’t come through?” I asked.
“The vrykas? No,” Rhaegar answered. “They stayed with your parents.”
I exhaled, feeling the loss of my new friends, but grateful that they’d be there to protect Mama.
Xeni’s delicate eyebrows furrowed as Yaya joined us again. “If I’m understanding correctly, the portal shouldn’t have opened yet. Not without an Ancient, or a full moon.”
I shrugged. “The Murk messes with everything. Or maybe when Morpheus destroyed the Epiales Tombs, ember flooded the prison. Hard to say.”
Yaya scratched her chin. “The rift is widening; the Aetherbind is too strained. With Nether beasts slipping through, and both Morpheus and Phobetor weakened while in limbo, there’s no telling the impact.
If we don’t find the rest of the Scions and complete Ascension soon …
the Hollowed Stars prophecy won’t wait. We’ll have far bigger problems than a single portal. ”
Above, Phobetor’s shadows pulsed like a creeping omen.
I gritted my teeth, meeting his glare whenever it found mine as he revolved. “Where’s Melina?” I asked.
Rhaegar tilted his head toward the far end.
I wandered across and peered into the open conservatory beyond the towering doombarks that anchored the platform.
Embered manacles cuffed her wrists and ankles as she sat cross-legged among the ten Dormancy pods.
A yellow, swaying film enclosed her in a dome, runes floating along its invisible surface.
She was trapped inside a giant ebony flower. Beautiful, but deadly.
“Jace’s handiwork.” Yaya stood next to me, eyeing the Elder. “He said it’ll hold, especially when surrounded by the pods’ ember.”
“Nyxvein,” I explained, giving her a brief rundown of the energy running through the banestone.
“Ah, so your other grandmother is also difficult,” Yaya quipped.
I chuckled, my smile widening when Melina glared at me from the confines of her prison.
Rhaegar leaned against a nearby tree. “Jace’s runecraft is quite impressive.”
I nodded, ignoring the anxious feeling creeping along my nape. There had to be a limit to what the sigils could do. Only so much time to drag the inevitable along—or worse, before Melina and Phobetor somehow slipped their binds.
Resentment and dread coiled through me like sticky threads, tightening with each breath. Every turn, every decision—had any of my choices ever been mine? Or were we all just dancing to the Fates’ rhythm, our limbs tangled in the strings they wove eons ago?
I drew in a steady breath, rolling my shoulders back and straightening my spine. Even if we were the Fates’ puppets, we still had teeth. We could cut the tapestry, tear free, if only between one heartbeat and the next.
Though freedom came with new tethers. Duty. Promise. Love. The bindings we chose ourselves.
My chest expanded, lungs burning. Was I ready?
Maybe not.
No one ever truly was.
But I could face it one breath at a time, as I always had. I exhaled, nostrils flaring.
I had my kin. My friends. Gavrel.
I would accept whatever destiny waited for me—no matter whose hands wove the pattern.
Because there were still realms to heal.
People to save.
Monsters to slay.
I met everyone’s gaze before turning toward Melina. “There’s no use waiting any longer. It’s time.”
“For?” Letti asked at my side.
Melina’s face twisted into something cruel, her mask of beauty painted in odium.
We both knew what came next.
“My Ascension.”