Chapter 28 #2
This time, it was the wavering white starfire and purple skies she was used to, stars drifting lazily overhead. No shattered glass, no rolling hills or graves, only the flickering buzz of white fire gently warming her skin. One foot in each realm fully, and—
“Desmond?” She jumped as he appeared beside her. “I—I shouldn’t be able to see you here.”
“Thinking the same,” he muttered, looking around, hands flexing at his sides. “Did our readings merge?”
“But joint readings typically show two Starsearchers the same fortune, they don’t show them each other in real time.”
For all the ways she felt like she traveled elsewhere during a reading, it was a mental magic, everything communicated along their internal Fate ties.
Even with the joint readings performed during bonding ceremonies, you weren’t together on another plane like this. You were simply shown the same images.
This felt intentional.
“Can you still feel the Archives?” Emmeline asked.
Desmond was silent for a moment, clearly less easily able to access his Ambrisk-bound body than she was. “Everything feels normal.”
So, the Fates wanted them here together. Aevollon wanted to show them something together. Goosebumps rose along her arms at the realization.
Joint readings were a key step in any bonding ceremony. After the Starsearchers said their vows, a medley of incense was lit to ask the Fates to bless their future and show hints of what it may hold.
“Lemon verbena,” Emmeline breathed.
“What?” Desmond asked as he looked around them, as if an explanation would appear.
“We need to light lemon verbena. It’s for unity—it strengthens joint readings, and that’s clearly what the Fates want.”
The fact that the Fates swept her into a reading like this—one that surpassed even a normal bonding ceremony’s joint reading—days after she was told she was being forced to bond to a stranger hadn’t escaped her notice, like they wanted to point her toward the importance of it.
“We need lemon verbena to strengthen the joint reading,” Emmeline reiterated.
“Fates,” Desmond said. “I can’t light anything while we’re here.”
“I can.” Back in the Archives, Emmeline reached out, fumbling before her until she found the lemon verbena incense. A steady hand met hers, a match struck, and though she was only half present, she thanked Lola as she lit it.
The scent wrapped her and Desmond, the starfire flaring around them, making his form more solid and rooting them both in the joint reading.
“It’s eerie that you have that much control over it,” Desmond commented.
“Eleven Fate ties, Desmond. Eleven.” And her mother had ensured she knew how to control them all from a young age. At least, until she’d gone into the seeing chamber.
Aevollon’s star-woven form appeared before her and Desmond in his usual celestial glory, his face a void.
This. This was the typical appearance of the Fates. Not Serchus’s more realistic vision.
The two of you, together, Aevollon said, his voice musical.
“We didn’t expect it either,” Emmeline admitted.
Desmond flicked a glance at her and jolted. “Oh, Fates.”
“What?” she asked, whirling toward him as Aevollon laughed musically, warmth radiating off the Fate who embodied the sun.
“Your eyes,” Desmond said, peering closer. He gripped her shoulders, turning her as if the angle would change something. “They’re entirely silver, and you’re…” He glanced back at Aevollon, at a loss for words. “I’ll show you later.”
Discomfort wriggled along her spine—her eyes were silver? Maybe that always happened during her readings. Desmond’s were their usual amber, though.
Emmeline addressed Aevollon, “We’re still looking for answers about the murders on Lyra. Can you tell us what plans Dryvius has in the future or help us clear Roremar’s name?”
Aevollon answered in his melodic tone: For ordinary Starsearchers, readings cannot be done of higher powers such as the gods, Angels, or Fates.
Emmeline held in her sigh. “I understand, but Dryvius’s actions are toying with the lives of mortals. Of Valyrie’s warriors. We wish to see if it can be stopped.”
Aevollon nodded, all his moves lyrical. There are paths that end in these actions being derailed, but I cannot show you what as they are too directly related to the actions of Fates and cannot be entirely determined.
If the Fates couldn’t speak of it, whatever was going to happen was dependent on Dryvius’s decisions. Emmeline’s entire body tensed at the confirmation.
“What about Roremar?” Emmeline insisted.
“Can we help him survive this tournament?” Desmond added.
I cannot see.
“Why is that blocked, too?” Emmeline mused. They should be able to see Roremar’s future aside from Dryvius. She had atop the Trade House.
Unless the two became too closely linked to decipher.
A second form appeared beside Aevollon, a starry veil rippling across her face, her form as celestial as his. Emmeline gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Desmond asked.
You are not to be here, Aevollon said to the new Fate.
“Who?” Desmond asked.
Emmeline looked between them. “You can’t see her?”
“Clearly not.”
So, the joint reading wasn’t merging everything.
“Anphrosia is here now, too,” Emmeline explained.
Desmond stiffened, crossing his arms and glaring at the spot Emmeline indicated. “What does she want?”
Apparently Anphrosia could see and hear Desmond, because Emmeline didn’t have to repeat his question for the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration to say, I have seen very intriguing paths for you.
“What paths?” Emmeline asked, ignoring Desmond’s grumbled annoyance at not having heard the reading.
Anphrosia answered,
Bonds do forge,
Intended yet scorned.
Forced not wanted,
Sacrifices born haunted.
Emmeline’s breath caught in her throat, denial screaming through her as she understood.
“What did she say?” Desmond asked as Aevollon spoke quietly to Anphrosia.
“She’s talking about a bond being forced. An unwanted one. I…” She couldn’t say it. Anphrosia’s veiled head dipped in a nod. “It’s the outcome of the tournament. The forced bonding is going to happen.”
“How do we stop it?” Desmond barked, as desperate as she was, but a familiar numbness crept up Emmeline’s limbs as she felt her future being taken from her.
There will be no stop to it. You are too powerful, too cherished and desired. The power must be used.
Emmeline’s magic beat within her, crying out, reaching for something she couldn’t see.
“There’s no stopping it,” she whispered.
“That can’t be true,” Desmond demanded, all his love for his best friend—for Roremar’s future with Emmeline, his future alive at all—piquing his voice. “There has to be a way.”
Enough! Aevollon roared, voice the strike of a drum.
Anphrosia only laughed, the sound splintering through Emmeline.
Aevollon grabbed Anphrosia by the throat, and the two spiraled away through a curtain of white fire, their constellations shimmering in their wake.
Before Emmeline and Desmond could speak, a scream wrenched the air, and they both snapped from the reading.
When she opened her eyes, Desmond was already on his feet, checking both Lola and Myrella were okay.
“What was that?” Emmeline asked, theories of bonds pounding in her ears. “That scream—was it here?”
“It was outside,” Lola said, snuffing out candles. Smoke filled the air, stinging Emmeline’s eyes and dragging her back to reality.
The four of them raced from the Archives, joining the throng of Starsearchers shoving through the stairwells. Graves and Eston found them as soon as they emerged from the temple, trying to pull Emmeline back, but she slipped their grasp.
“Miss!” Eston called at the same time Graves grumbled something unintelligible.
But she couldn’t stop.
She pushed through the crowd gathering along the temple steps in the fading sunlight, spilling down into the square, all facing the building’s high arches and shadowed towers.
“Oh, my Fates,” Myrella whispered behind her as they turned to face the temple.
“Fucking realms,” Desmond swore. Lola went pale.
A body hung from one of the arches, swinging from rope-tied wrists before a stained-glass window bearing a veiled sigil.
Her form was hauntingly illuminated by the candles behind the glass, casting ghostly shadows across her still features.
Her neck was snapped at an unnatural angle, body covered in blood from a slice to her throat.
On either side of her, across the glass, bloody wings flared. And above the window, smeared in crimson on the stone, were the words:
TO TEMPT THE FATES, AND REALMS WILL WREST—
HE WILL HAVE HER.