Chapter 14
DIEM
We joined the other Kindred at the Temple. Their forms had become dim and hazy, and I found myself blinking rapidly to keep them in focus.
“The God’s Horn is fading,” Arboros said. “We don’t have much time.”
“You have to free me from the island,” I reminded them. “I can’t help anyone from here.”
“There’s one problem,” Sophos said. “We cannot change the heartstone’s spell. Only the Crowns can do that.”
“You lied? You gods-damned deceitful pieces of sh—”
“But,” he cut back in, “the Crowns are ours to give.”
My temper was doused by an icy splash of shock. “You want to give me the other Crowns?”
“We have no choice,” Fortos muttered. “Neither do you, if you want to stop our brother.”
“If she wants to stop him,” Umbros said, quietly looking me over.
“Because half your blood is mortal, your magic is weaker than ours,” Sophos explained, “but each Crown increases your power. With all nine, you will be strong.” His eyebrows rose. “As strong, perhaps, as one of us.”
“It won’t be easy,” Meros cautioned. “The realms may not accept you, and the weight of duty is heavy. Maybe too much for one person to safely bear.”
“I thought the Crowns only pass through death,” I said. “The Descended who have them now . . . are you going to kill them?”
Fortos barked a laugh. “Does it matter? You had no reservations about putting my last Crown in a grave.”
“But she did,” Lumnos reminded him. “She gave your King every chance to survive. She did not act until she had no other choice. She had a chance to kill my King, as well. She did not take that, either.”
“Mercy is a virtue,” Montios murmured.
“It is possible to spare their lives,” Sophos said, “but it’s dangerous.
We’re only meant to reach into this world when the veil thins for a dying soul to cross over.
We have broken that rule too many times already, and each time, the bridge to this world weakens.
Taking Crowns from the living could destroy it completely.
We might never be able to reach into this world to guide their paths again. ”
“Good,” I said firmly. “Let me be the last person you ever give them to. Let the Crowns end with me so the people of Emarion learn to govern themselves.”
They studied me, and each other, with uncertain gazes.
“So much like her mother,” Lumnos said. “Blessings for that.”
Faunos stared me down. “What if she turns out like her father, too?”
“Andrei Bellator is my father,” I snapped. “Just because Ophiucae is my sire does not mean I—I care for him.” I hoped they didn’t hear my slight hitch, the plucked string wobbling in my tone.
“Blood bonds are a powerful thing,” Fortos said. “People kill for them. Fight wars for them.”
“I will not help him,” I insisted.
“Perhaps you should.”
Their aghast faces turned to Lumnos.
“You cannot be serious,” Sophos said.
“Sister,” Arboros breathed. “You’ve seen what he’s done. He’s doing the same to your people this very moment.”
My stomach dropped. “Ophiucae’s in Lumnos?”
“What if our brother can change?” Lumnos asked them. “He’s capable of love. Perhaps he is capable of goodness, if Diem can show him the way.”
She set her palm on the heartstone, and it lit up with a sapphire glow.
“We will give her the gift she needs to take our brother’s life, but let us trust her to make her own choice, in the end.
Love is as powerful as blood. It can change minds and hearts.
” She gave me another of her strange, knowing smiles. “Let’s pray it can also change fates.”
Montios added her hand to the heartstone, along with her pale lilac light, and looked at me. “Be strong, Daughter of the Forgotten. Courage is a virtue.”
Fortos grunted and slapped his palm onto the stone. “Not like we have a choice.”
“We never did,” Faunos agreed, joining him. “Once she was born, all our paths aligned.”
Meros added her hand. “Be kind to my King,” she said, tone edged with threat. “He is strong of heart, and he has given more for his people than you know.”
Arboros followed suit. “My Queen can be your ally, if you can forgive her.”
“As can Doriel,” Sophos said as he joined. “Duty makes for difficult choices, Diem. Rare is a ruler who emerges unscathed. Remember that.”
I pressed my lips tight to hold back a volley of pointed words. Their pleas felt hollow when they’d been perfectly willing to sacrifice their Crowns’ lives only moments ago.
I had my own plans for the Crowns—and it wasn’t forgiveness.
“Well, mine isn’t a good man,” Ignios admitted.
“I chose him because he was strong-willed and decisive. I thought he would use that fire to protect his people, but anger smolders. Hatred ignites. And power burns a soul to ash.” She reached for the heartstone.
“His days are numbered. Follow his path, and yours will be, too.”
Only Umbros remained. He’d kept his distance, lingering near his arch and staring silently at Yrselle’s decomposing corpse with a pensive crease across his brow.
“I’ve had many Crowns,” he murmured. “Yrselle was my favorite of them all. Beautiful. Ruthless. I would have let her reign forever, if I could.” The corner of his lips lifted.
“She was so very fun. Never a dull moment, watching her.”
His gaze rose to mine. “When I told her of the role she would need to play, she never argued or lamented her fate. She only asked me one question: ‘Is the girl worth it?’ And I told her you were.” He walked up to the central pedestal.
His palm hovered over the heartstone, its glassy edges alight with rainbow hues.
“Be worthy, Diem Bellator. Make the difficult choices—whatever they may be.”
At the final Kindred’s touch, a blinding light exploded from the heartstone’s core. I raised a hand to my eyes to block its dazzling glare. The cauldron fires roared back to life, burning so high and hot they warmed my flesh.
Beyond the island’s shores, the world had changed.
The sunny blue sky and watery sea had faded behind an ethereal curtain, its glittering fabric rippling with images I couldn’t quite understand.
They held familiar faces and landscapes, cast in moments I’d never witnessed.
Moments I couldn’t have witnessed—Lily and Teller together in old age, Henri as a grown man alongside his mother.
“Close your eyes,” Sophos shouted. “Those are not for you to see.”
I couldn’t—my attention had caught on a foggy picture of myself at a graveyard, tombstones in rows that stretched for miles. I was on my knees and weeping, clutching the Sword of Corbois to my chest.
Luther.
I was grieving Luther.
Beside him, another gravestone had a bundle of lilies at its base. On another beside it, Taran’s baldric was slung over its edge.
On another, Alixe’s shortswords.
On another, Eleanor’s sketchbook.
The satchel Teller carried to school.
The healer’s apron my mother wore.
Artifacts of every person I’d ever loved.
Dead.
All of them, dead.
A hand pressed to my cheek and forced my face to turn away. “You cannot look,” Lumnos warned, her tone kind but firm.
“That’s the future, isn’t it?” I whispered.
“One possible future. That’s why we came. There is so much at stake.”
A loud groaning sound roared through the air. The shimmering veil surged past the island’s borders, nearing the Temple as the Kindred’s silhouettes began to waver.
“We’re running out of time,” Sophos yelled. “Put your hand on the heartstone. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
I froze, unable to think beyond the terrible future I’d just seen. Lumnos grabbed my arm and raised it, but stopped short of the heartstone. “I cannot make you do this. It must be a willing choice, and you must make it now.”
I took a deep breath and pressed my palm to the stone.
First came the magic.
It had always been there, blanketing the soil, the sea, the air, but I’d only ever felt it through the Forging magic of my realms. With my hand on the heartstone, I could see it, right down to its individual glittering threads.
The beauty of it stole the air from my lungs.
The wondrous connection of it all, the way a million tiny strings, each one vibrating a resolute pulse, wove over and under and through into an intricate tapestry.
It was a dangerous, delicate thing—instinctively, I knew that a single thread tugged too hard or left too loose might make the whole thing unravel.
Yet there was a pattern to its weave, a way to sew new strings of magic into the world.
And just when I felt on the precipice of understanding . . .
Then came the pain.
Unbearable, excruciating, soul-searing pain.
A scream tore out of me, though it felt more like my brain trying to smash its way out of my skull. The heartstone blazed as hot as fire, and everywhere I touched it, my flesh blistered and peeled.
“Don’t let go,” a voice called out over my screams. “When the veil takes us back, it could take you with us. You need the heartstone to anchor you here.”
“I can’t,” I cried. “It’s too much!”
Another voice, close to my ear: “He needs you. Think of him, and be strong.”
The pressure on my head forced me to my knees, leaving me certain my skull would cave in from the weight. My fingernails screeched across the heartstone’s glossy surface as I fought to keep hold.
The veil shrank closer, feet from the Temple’s edge. Warm liquid trickled down my arms, and when I forced myself to look, I saw my dark ruby blood smeared across the heartstone’s surface.
“The barriers on the island,” someone yelled. “Tear them down. We’ll help you, but you must hurry.”
I looked around in a frantic search. The currents that flowed from the heartstone seemed infinite. Finding the one the Crowns had used to imprison me here could take a lifetime.
“Don’t look with your eyes,” another voice urged. “Use the heartstone to guide you.”