Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
An entire day passes with no word from Jordi. By the time I drag myself home, exhaustion has sunk into my bones like lead. All I want is to bury my face in my pillow and forget the world exists.
Instead, I open my door to find Naima, Kage, and Malachi crowded around my dining table, maps and ancient texts spread between them like the remnants of a war council.
They look up in unison. I press my back against the door and study their faces: Naima's furrowed brow, Kage's knowing grin, Malachi's careful blankness. I close my eyes and sigh.
"And here I thought you'd be thrilled to find me waiting for you," Kage says.
A tired laugh escapes me despite everything. I open my eyes to find Malachi and Naima both shaking their heads at him.
"That bad?" Naima asks softly.
I let my head fall back against the door. "The Sages have been gone all day. No news about Jordi. And the interns at the clinic left the atrium door open, so I spent half the morning chasing birds and the other half trying not to strangle anyone."
She winces. "If it helps, one of the forgery interns dropped a hammer on her foot. Had to be carried to the Whispering Ponds."
I sputter a laugh. "How is that supposed to help? That's terrible."
"How long do people intern before they're given permanent positions?" Malachi asks.
"Depends on the trade," I say, pushing off the door and heading toward my room. "Could be months. Could be years."
"It was different for us," Naima adds behind me. "We arrived as children. We interned everywhere before our gifts even manifested."
Their voices blur into background noise as I shed my coat and shoes. My bed calls to me, soft and inviting, but I force myself to turn away and rejoin them at the table.
"Did you eat?" Naima asks as I sink into my usual chair.
"Lenora made coconut fried fish."
Her mouth drops. "Lucky."
"It was the only enjoyable part of my day."
"Do you want to know another thing I find fascinating about this place?" Kage asks.
"You start every sentence with that question," Naima mutters.
Malachi's brow arches. "Can you blame us? Lunaris was part of Tenebris before the curse. It's been lost for three hundred years." His gaze sweeps over the room, the maps, the windows overlooking the dark street beyond. "Even if that weren't the case, this place is … "
"Strange," Kage finishes, sliding an old map toward us.
"It's my understanding that as part of the treaty, the Council banished any mention of all the gods and repurposed the temples.
" He places a newer map beside the first. "If this older map was truly drawn before the treaty, this building shouldn't exist on it. "
I lean forward to see what he's pointing at. "The Hall of Gratitude?"
"Why wouldn't it be there?" Naima frowns.
"Because that's where the Shadow Guild meets," Malachi says quietly.
"You think the Council is part of the Shadow Guild?" I stare at the map as if it might rearrange itself into something that makes sense.
Malachi nods. "Specifically, the faction that worships the Everlasting."
I sink back in my chair. Naima looks as stunned as I feel.
The Shadow Guild and the Veritas Order have been enemies for as long as either has existed.
The atrocities the Guild committed against the Sages were the reason our Order was created in the first place.
The idea that the Council could be aligned with them, that we've been living alongside our oldest enemy for decades without knowing …
It shouldn't be possible. And yet.
"Do you know how the Shadow Guild formed?" Kage asks.
"The basics." I fold my arms. "Ignata chose three Sages per kingdom.
For balance, Noktelum was supposed to choose three Mages.
But Ignata had a vision, something terrible enough to stop them after the first three were already selected.
Those three Mages didn't take kindly to being abandoned by their god.
" I shrug. "So they founded their own order. The Shadow Guild."
Kage nods. "The Mages needed a place to meet, so they sought out a cave rumored to hold strange power.
" His voice takes on the cadence of an old story, well-worn and often told.
"There were tales of a dead man left in that cave who walked out alive three days later.
Another of a man who sheltered there and wished for wings.
A week later, he emerged with them growing from his back. "
Naima leans over to bump my shoulder. "Like those romance books you used to devour about the winged hero who—"
"Naima." I bump her shoulder hard enough to send her rocking back in her chair.
She cackles, head thrown back, the gold clasps on her braids tinkling like bells. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. If I encourage her, she'll never stop, and my face is already burning.
I turn back to Kage. "Ignore her. Continue."
"I have to admit," Malachi says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice, "I'm very curious what this winged hero did to earn such a reaction."
I glare at him. His amusement pulses through the bond, warm and infuriating.
Kage grins. "I'm also curious."
"Just tell us what happened in the cave."
"They found a stone," he says. "Amber, like many in those caves, but larger. The resin had trapped twigs in the shape of a heart, and at the center of that heart … " He pauses. "An eye. Perfectly preserved. And it blinked."
A chill traces down my spine. "That's..."
"Impossible?" Kage shrugs. "I've never seen it myself. But enough people have, across enough centuries, that I believe the accounts. They called the stone the Everlasting."
"The Everlasting," I repeat slowly. "The Council's symbol. The mantra they chant. It's all about a stone?"
"Not just any stone."
"The Mage who found it mounted the stone in a scepter," Kage continues. "The other two Mages were furious. They saw it as blasphemy against Noktelum."
"Because only gods are supposed to have scepters," Naima says.
"Exactly. That's what split the Guild. One faction stayed loyal to Noktelum. The other followed the Mage with the Everlasting, worshipping the stone like a deity."
"Back then, people still referred to the stone as the Everlasting," Malachi says, his voice low. "But one of the Mage's followers murdered him and took the scepter. That man eventually became king of Arusha." His jaw tightens. "And he took the name for himself. The Everlasting."
My stomach turns. "Cato. You're telling me Cato, the man who cursed Tenebris, is the Everlasting? That's who the Council worships?"
"I'm glad you know enough about him to be disturbed," Kage says.
"I don't know much." I shake my head. "But I know enough to be horrified by anyone who isn't a god demanding worship."
"That's fair."
"Isn't this enough proof?" Naima presses. "And wouldn't Draven have known? He's been here for years."
She catches my eye, and I see the question she can't ask aloud. Do the Sages know? Have they always known? I give her the smallest nod. They must. I just can't fathom why they would allow it.
"That's complicated," Kage says slowly. "Draven doesn't remember Cato. He remembers everything else we've asked about, every detail of his life before Lunaris, but mention Cato and there's just... nothing. A blank space where the memory should be."
I stare at him. I didn't know that was possible. A single memory, surgically removed, while leaving everything else intact? What kind of power would that require?
"Is there a way to find an older map?" Malachi asks, cutting through my spiraling thoughts.
I nod at the yellowed parchment. "Older than this?"
"One from before the Hall of Gratitude existed."
"I've never seen one that old. But if anyone can find it, it's Draven." I pause. "He's the Keeper of the Vault. If such a map exists, he'd know."
Malachi shakes his head. "He avoids the vault during the festival. Says the Council has been unusually vigilant these past weeks. Watching everything. Everyone."
My stomach twists. What if Draven is the reason Jordi was taken? What if he's connected to the renegades? What if they both are? I shove the thought away before it can take root. One crisis at a time.
"Why does the original matter?" Naima asks.
"Because we need to know what temple stood there before," Malachi says. "What power it held. What the Council might be using it for now."
She frowns. "Why would that change anything?"
"Because the merchants from Lyrionne call Constantine something interesting." Kage's voice drops. "The Keeper of Memories."
"He has nothing to do with the memory collections." The words come out sharper than I intend. "Nothing to do with the stones or the ceremony. The only thing he does is show up and say a few words on behalf of 'the Everlasting' and take the credit. He's a farce.”
Kage raises an eyebrow. "Then who does collect them?"
"No one collects them." I spread my hands. "The Veritas healers conduct the ceremony. The Sages attend. But the memories themselves are stored in individual stones. No one receives them. They're just... kept."
"Each person gets their own stone?"
"Yes. And in exchange, they're given an amulet." I touch my chest where mine usually rests. "The amulets are supposed to protect us. From the Shroud, from our own emotions, from everything we traded away."
Kage exchanges a look with Malachi. "Those are the amulets I mentioned. The ones that supposedly keep the Shroudmaidens at bay and prevent the Shroud from spreading."
"Shroudmaidens?" The word feels strange on my tongue. Wrong.
Malachi's gaze finds mine. "The creatures you encountered on the bridge. That's what they're called outside these walls."
"Where are the stones kept?" Kage asks.
"They call it the Wall of Memories, but no one knows its location.
Jordi used to think..." I have to stop and swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat.
"He thought they were stored beneath the House of Truth.
But there are thousands of stones. Maybe tens of thousands.
I can't imagine they're all in one place. "
Kage and Malachi exchange a look that makes my pulse stutter.
"What?" I demand. "What is it?"
Kage's eyes lock onto mine. "The amulets and the memory stones. Are they connected?"
I nod, throat too tight for words.
"Why does that matter?" Naima whispers.
"The Sages would never allow the stones near the Hall of Gratitude." Kage's voice has gone thin. Afraid. "Right? They wouldn't let them anywhere near that place?"
"I don't know." My voice sounds strange to my own ears. "Would it matter?"
Kage laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Would it matter? The Everlasting is a siphoner, Ada. Cato can drain gifts from others and use them as his own. Why do you think the seers went into hiding? Why do you think healers were hunted to near extinction?"
My stomach lurches. A siphoner. Someone who can steal gifts, consume them, wield them as weapons.
I think of Jordi's theories about the amulets and memory stones.
His conviction that they're connected to the Shroud somehow, feeding it, sustaining it.
I think of the laborers screaming in the tunnels.
Malachi must feel my panic through the bond, but I can't bring myself to care.
"Is Cato the siphoner, or is it the stone?" Naima's voice is barely audible. "Is it him, or the scepter?"
"There are theories," Kage says carefully. "Some believe the Mage's gifts were transferred into the scepter when Cato killed him. That the weapon itself holds the power, and Cato is just the one wielding it."
I force myself to swallow. "What do you believe?"
"I think it's the scepter," Kage says. "Cato relies on compulsion more than any other gift, and there are records of his eyes flashing amber when he uses it. The stone is amber. It can't be a coincidence."
I stare at him. "His eyes flash? Like the Sages?"
"Similar. The Sages' eyes flash silver because they were blessed by Ignata, who commands lightning. Cato's flash amber because his power comes from something else entirely." Kage's expression darkens. "Something older. Hungrier."
"I didn't know anyone else's eyes flashed," Naima breathes.
"It's rare, but not unheard of." Kage shakes his head. "But that's a tangent for another time."
"Agreed." I press my palms flat against the table to stop them from trembling. "Right now, I need to understand what the Council is doing with the memory stones. And what it has to do with this Everlasting."
"Does it truly matter?" Naima's voice rises, desperate. "Cato has never set foot in Lunaris. The Everlasting is just a name the Shadow Guild gave a rock. That doesn't make it a god. That doesn't make him one either."
I shake my head slowly. "That's not entirely true."
"How do you figure?"
"The Sages teach that everything is energy," I say slowly, piecing the thoughts together as I speak. "Our breath, our magic, the fabric of our being. Ancient cultures believed the same. Everything is cyclical. The circle of life. We are energy, and energy cannot be destroyed, only transformed."
"Right." Naima shrugs. "That's what Ignata's teachings are based on."
"Then consider this." I lean forward. "The only difference between a concept and a god is the energy we give it.
One person's belief is just an idea. But gather a community around that idea, worship it together, build temples in its name, and suddenly that idea has power.
Real power." I meet each of their eyes in turn.
"And in this case, they took over an already existing temple that already had its own energy baked into it. "
I let that sink in.
"Which is why we need the original map," Malachi says quietly. "We need to know what temple stood there before. And whether the memory stones are anywhere near it."
I nod, but my mind has already drifted. Back to the bridge.
To the Shroudmaidens and their rasping voices.
We remember you, empath. You were ours to claim.
To the laborers dying in the tunnels, screaming for families they'd forgotten.
To Margot's voice cracking as she described the pleasure gardens.
The Council watching grief like entertainment.
A shudder tears through me, violent enough that Naima reaches for my hand. If Jordi is right, and the Shroud opens during the Reckoning, and Cato finds a way through … Gods. Repaying my debt will be the least of my worries. Surviving will be the only thing that matters.
And I'm not sure any of us will.