Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Istorm through the back doors of the Veritas Estate without acknowledging anyone. My mind is a hive of fury, and I have no patience for pleasantries. I nearly walk past Mara without seeing her. She's stationed outside Mother's office like a nervous sentry.
"Profess—I mean, Ada." She shuffles after me as I brush past. "The High Sage said she won't tolerate any disturbances."
"I'm sure she did."
"And this isn't even … I'm supposed to be interning with Gerri, the High Sage's lead alchemist, but she told me to guard the door while she handled something, and she said if I let anyone disturb the High Sage, I'll be dismissed and I'll never get another opportunity like this, so please—"
She flinches when I spin to face her. The explosion building in my chest dies the moment I take a good look at her.
At the fear in her wide brown eyes and the way she clutches her journal to her chest like a shield.
I notice the gold Veritas pin on her lapel.
The houndstooth maroon jacket, just like the one I wore at her age.
I've been so consumed with my own survival these past two years that I never let myself see it. She's me. A younger, more hopeful version, still believing in everything I've stopped believing in.
Her brows furrow at my silence. I decide I hate her confusion more than her rambling. At least her rambling comes from genuine curiosity and the need to understand. It's her clinging to what's left of her identity after she made the memory trade.
I don't know what brought her to Lunaris. I only know she's from Lyrionne. Most sirens in Veritas are. I think of what Malachi said about the temples in Tenebris. How parents bring their children, hoping they'll be deemed special. Chosen.
And I remember something Tilda told me years ago. She said Siren's Call is the most hopeful place in Veritas. Not because of the tavern or the gambling hall or the brothel, but because it's where people come to see their loved ones. I never understood what she meant. Until now.
All those merchants who flood Veneficia Alley, who fill the seats at Siren's and order drinks they barely touch, they're not here for business.
They're here to see the children they brought to Lunaris for a better life.
Children who don't remember them. Who don't remember the sacrifices that were made for them.
"Ada?" Mara's voice is soft. Concerned. "Are you alright? You're..."
I touch my face. My fingers come away wet.
"I'm fine." I wipe the tears away with the back of my hand and force something like a smile.
"Sara's expecting me." I clear my throat.
"I don't know who Gerri is, but if she gives you trouble, tell her you're the best alchemy student I've ever taught.
Tell her firing you would be a disservice to the Order.
" I hold her gaze. "And if that doesn't work, come find me. I'll handle it."
She stares at me, speechless. I don't wait for a response. I turn to Mother's office, grip the handle, and throw the door open without knocking. All three Sages turn toward me at once.
Their eyes flash silver in sequence, one after another, like a warning signal. In daylight, they look less menacing than they did in my childhood nightmares. It doesn't matter. I'm not afraid of them anymore.
"Ada." Mother's voice is exhausted. She sits behind her desk like a queen on a crumbling throne.
"Ada." Anala's smile is serene, almost peaceful. She perches on the edge of the velvet couch.
"Temp!" Freida grins from beside her, the only warmth in the room.
Despite everything, Anala's obvious relief and Freida's genuine excitement crack something in my armor. My lips twitch. They rise to embrace me, and I let them. Freida drags over a third chair so we can sit together facing the desk.
Diplomacy wasn't what I came for. On the walk here, I could only envision one outcome: burning this place to the ground. This is better. Probably.
"I went to the Hall of Truth last night." I cut off whatever small talk Freida was about to offer. "I watched the ceremony."
Anala nods slowly. "I thought you might."
"Because you saw it in a vision?"
"No." Her smile turns sad. "I just know you. I'm surprised you didn't go when Sara extended your apprenticeship. But I knew this time would be different."
"Did you want me to see it?"
Freida answers before Anala can. "We knew it would crush you to witness what the Council does. We hated lying to you." She exchanges a glance with Anala. "But we understood why the truth had to stay buried."
My chest tightens. "The Veritas residents—are they—"
"All here willingly," Freida says quickly. Too quickly.
"What about Lenora?"
Silence. Anala's eyes flash silver. That's enough to answer.
"She's here willingly," Mother says after a long pause.
"Willingly." I let the word hang between us, ugly and hollow. If I hadn't been raised by these women, I might believe her. "Did you take her memories after she made the elixir? Or after she discovered what the Shroud really is?" I lean forward. "Was creating it your plan all along?"
Her eyes blaze silver. "We did not create the Shroud. It is a manifestation of the curse. It existed before the treaty was ever signed. We’ve never lied about that."
"But you took Lenora’s memories." My voice shakes, and I hate it. I hate that this woman can still surprise me. Disappoint me. "You took her memories, and you've done nothing to get my brother back from those monsters."
"We did what we had to do."
My sigil burns beneath my blouse. "What are the Shroudmaidens?"
"We don't know." Her voice is flat. "That is the truth."
"But you do know the Shroud feeds on the memory stones. On all that stolen pain."
She straightens. "That is—"
"Stop." Freida's voice cuts like a blade. "It's too late, Sara. Everything you've done. Everything we've done." She shakes her head. "It's too late. You must see that."
Mother's eyes flash. "It is not too late. It will only be too late if—"
Freida slams her palm on the desk. "Just tell her the godsdamn truth!"
The room goes silent.
Mother turns to me. When she speaks, her voice is calm, but her eyes remain silver. Unnatural.
"You've studied ancient civilizations. You know that history doesn't repeat itself exactly—but the themes are cyclical. The patterns recur."
I nod slowly, uncertain where this is leading.
"The question is never who will break the cycle," she continues. "It's when. I thought sparing Lunaris from the truth of the last three hundred years was a kindness." She pauses. "But mostly, I knew it would keep you and your brother safe."
The air in the room shifts. "Safe from what?"
"From Cato." Her voice drops. "From his hunters. From everything he's spent centuries searching for."
I sink back in my chair. The prophecy. This is about the prophecy. I knew it the moment I heard Anala speak those words under the blood moon.
I felt it in my bones. But knowing something and having it confirmed are different creatures entirely. She went to all these lengths to ... what? Prevent it from coming true? But why would she want to prevent—
"Because I'm a healer," I say slowly, the pieces clicking into place. "A true healer. The prophecy says the healer's hands will break the chain. Is that why—"
"Because Cato is your father."
The words hit the air like a clap of thunder. They ring in my ears. Echo. Refuse to make sense.
My father.
Cato.
The Everlasting.
I shake my head. The denial rises to my lips, ready to be spoken, but it won't come. As if some part of me already knows.
Cato, who slaughtered the healers of Larimar. Who hunts seers and siphoners. Who stole a throne and cursed an entire kingdom when he couldn't have what he wanted. That monster is my father.
"No." The word comes out broken. "That's not … how is that possible?"
Mother speaks before I can finish.
"Many years ago, Cato visited my homeland of Larimar..."
The room tilts. Mother's voice fades to static. Larimar. Pia's homeland. The drowned island.
From the drowned island, the flame still burns.
The last thing I see is Mother rising from her chair, her mouth forming my name.
Then darkness swallows everything.