Chapter 46 The Soul Ruby
The Soul Ruby
Desdemona
I
reach into the cell, aiming for the stone, but the headmistress doesn’t seem eager to die. Her neck isn’t bleeding; instead, an eerie green mist escapes the wound as it closes.
It’s such a strange sight that I wonder if it’s fake. Could everything so far have been a hallucination? Running through Ilyria, Lucian being alive—what if I’m just in the dungeon, slowly losing my mind to Zola?
She could be succeeding in stealing my sanity—just as Mial said she would.
“Commendable.” The headmistress smiles. “Though shortsighted.”
The green of her eyes slowly fades back into their usual Lyrian blue.
Does that mean this isn’t a hallucination?
The Soul Ruby is still in her clutches. She twists it between her fingers, and the bars of the dungeon melt.
The metal drips away in molten streams. A small portion rises, defying gravity, and seeps into the stone.
The ruby pulses with life, growing larger as its glow intensifies—a deeper, richer shade of red blooming across its surface.
The color in the headmistress’s face returns. The gray pallor transforms to pink cheeks and soft skin. She looks nearly identical to who she was before—except for an extra wrinkle here and there—as she glances between Lucian and me.
I look at Lucian, trying to understand.
“The bars were crafted from the Soul Ruby,” the headmistress explains, walking through the dungeon and gliding her finger along the neighboring cells—the ones that didn’t melt. “Made to hold the Phoenicians. But most things can be repurposed.”
I shake my head. That’s not true. I’m a Phoenician. “I used blood magic here—”
“Hold Phoenicians,” she says sternly. “Not Arcanes. Your DNA was shifted the moment you touched blood magic.”
I take a deep breath. I am fundamentally shifted—different. I’ve changed. I knew I had. But apparently, my DNA agrees.
Or is it just Zola’s way of messing with my head?
The headmistress stands, moving toward the exit of the dungeon. I step in front of her.
If this is real, she can’t leave with the ruby.
“This isn’t what you need,” she says, holding up the Soul Ruby. “It was never a stone of memory, though I assume you’ve already tried.”
Hair clings to my sweaty forehead as I look through it, meeting her eyes. “What are you saying?”
“You need the Memorium—”
“But Lucian was stabbed with the Soul Ruby before remembering me,” I argue.
The headmistress glances at Lucian. “Memories of you, yes—not the rest.”
“The rest?” Lucian asks, stepping toward her.
“There were many in your mind, Lucian,” she says. “Thousands, I told you. They weren’t all Desdemona.”
“What were they?” he asks eagerly.
“It is not for me to disclose.”
Lucian’s jaw clenches. “I swear to the gods, Cynthia—”
“As I told you,” she says, her voice stern, “I could not see them.”
Lucian shakes his head, but seeing him react so vividly with her tells me this is all real. The hallucinations are over. I ended them.
The headmistress turns back to me and says, “Mial knew what you truly needed when he told you to find the Soul Ruby.”
I glance back at Lucian. I haven’t told him anything about Mial.
“He wouldn’t do that to me,” I say under my breath, not looking at either of them.
“You don’t know the man like I do.”
But I haven’t told her anything about Mial, either. I didn’t tell anyone.
Slowly, I take a step back.
The headmistress watches my movements closely. With a sad sigh, she says, “Lucian won’t be leaving if I don’t have the Soul Ruby. And I have no reason to lie to you. The Soul Ruby”—she gestures to my hand—“is already mine.”
Clenching my jaw, I say, “I could leave Lucian.”
He tenses behind me, as if he thinks that’s a possibility. I frown.
“But you won’t,” the headmistress says, so sure of herself.
“I don’t just need it for me,” I argue. “Olwen—his wife. He died because of me, and I promised I’d help her.”
“You don’t need the Soul Ruby to save Qualia.” She turns to Lucian. “You need him—the destiny of creation. Lucian can save her.”
I shake my head. There’s no way out of this, is there? Lucian’s hand clenches, and I hold it tightly.
I’ve seen him under a favor before. It won’t happen again.
Lucian steps in front of me, shielding me. “Cynthia, we’re not leaving without the stone.”
“I told you once, you don’t truly need it.” The headmistress meets my gaze. “Your mother used more than just the Soul Ruby to craft The Void.”
I take a step forward, past Lucian. “My mother?”
“Birth mother,” the headmistress says, glancing me up and down. “Mial chose not to tell you about her.”
I shake my head, heart sinking. “He wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Months with him, and he coaxed such loyalty out of you. He’s a smart man, dear. An old one.”
“And why would I believe you?” I ask through clenched teeth, holding back the urge to leap across the room and fight her for the Ruby.
“Because I knew your birth mother.”
I want to know everything she has to say—but I don’t think I’d believe anything. Still, I ask, “Birth mother?”
The headmistress smiles. I’m really growing to hate her smirk.
“Amun spent centuries manipulating the Royal bloodlines—most notably, those of the Phoenicians. For generations, he chose their rulers, pairing only the strongest among them, refining his creation until he forged the most powerful Phoenician in existence—”
“Let me guess,” I mutter. “Me?”
The headmistress smiles, a pitying, almost amused smirk, and says, “No, dear. Not you. Aurora.”