Lore of Old
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Iwasted no more time, rushing past him and down the steps. My breaths came from my lips in pants, but I did my best to quiet my panic.
The prophet had been right. My opportunity to go back down had presented itself perfectly.
As soon as I stepped into Al’s workspace, I sped across to the bookshelf that swung out.
I crouched to press the button and it clicked, swinging it open.
The prophet stood near the glass pane, her eyes falling upon me as if she had been waiting for me.
I rushed inside, leaving the bookshelf slightly cracked. The urge to collect the grimoire would not leave me be, but I continued until I stood before the caged prophet.
“I need answers,” I blurted.
“They are suppressing your true nature, harbinger.”
I swallowed, asking the question Tabby had planted. “The injection redbloods receive once an annum suppresses our true nature?”
She hummed, nodding.
“It has been for close to a millennium. You are living in a system created to place bluebloods above all else, to place the council above all. Four councils, across the realms, ruled with an iron fist for many decades. Then a new designation appeared. Stronger than any blueblood could be. Powerful in body and magick, and immune to magick when Awakened. When the first Warlord appeared, a century before the five Warlords you know of, he nearly destroyed the four councils, but was ultimately felled by them.”
She paused, and it gave me a moment to breathe. I had not realized I had stopped.
“My error came when the Articles of Prophecy fell into greedy hands. I had foretold the arrival of the Warlords to be born next.” Her mouth pursed, the corners pulling tight.
“Instead of destroying them, they Awakened them when they came of age to use as their weapons. To maintain balance, we need the Warlords to keep the Hollows’ population controlled, but they have never been truly in charge.
Instead they are pampered and assigned handlers to satisfy their every whim. ”
“They are but figureheads,” I breathed.
Everything began to align. Lord Vaner and how Al did as he ordered. Lady Drusilla’s role as the caretaker.
“You are the harbinger. Your arrival will make the Warlord see the truth. Only he can save all of us before we are naught but food for Hollows.”
“And as you mentioned before, this is a curse?” I gently touched my neck.
“It is a visible mark for the bondmate of Warlords to be found. You must stop the council. You must escape before Nocturn. For what they will do to you will set in motion what we will not be able to return from.” Her voice dropped to a lower register.
“Evil will spill across the four realms. Death will prevail.” She blinked, eyebrows furrowing as if she were pulling herself from a dream.
“The council does not see the truth. Greed and selfishness rules them.”
My mind reeled. Everything I had ever believed was a lie. A carefully constructed lie. It felt as though the ground shifted under my feet.
“Are the council immortal?”
“They are not physically, but they have developed a transfer of consciousness to make it so.”
She blinked those eerie, milky eyes. “With the alchemist, they have developed many experiments—”
“They want Warlord magick.” Lucinda spoke for the first time. “That is why all four councils took one Warlord for each realm.”
“Is that why Cassiel’s magick is faltering?”
She stiffened. “He is weakened?” Her mouth twitched, and she paced from one side of the chamber to the other. “They must be injecting the feeders,” Lucinda hissed. “Al must have figured out what weakens Warlords.”
“Or their efforts are finally taking effect.” The prophet combed her fingers through her mass of hair. “We are out of time, Omega.”
Now I was an Omega? More boulders compounded on my shoulders. “What is an Omega?”
“The Lore of Old will tell you exactly what the suppressants are stifling.” A thrill of irritation sparked at her deflection, but she continued speaking. “There is a more pressing issue. Your Lord Draven needs to be told the truth.”
“My?” The bloom trembled inside me. “I am but a Vessel—”
“Lies told to keep you in line,” she intoned. Her voice did not shift, but it held weight. “You must make him believe you are his bondmate—you both are an Elysian Pair.”
Rapid thuds smashed against my chest. “What if I cannot?” I cried. “Lord Draven is a volatile man when contradicted.”
A smile flitted across her lips.
“Collect your grimoire, Amara,” she murmured. “What you sought so carefully is now yours.”
“So the Articles of Prophecy—”
“Is the grimoire.” She cocked her head. “Now this falsehood was my doing. The records they set ablaze was a show for Cassiel.”
I gawked for a few moments under the regard of her steady gaze, giving me no other choice but to turn to the grimoire.
“The very thing they used to track you, will also drive their downfall, Amara Ixchelca.”
The surname took my breath from my lungs.
It had been so long. I struggled to remember the scent of sweet blooms my mother always smelled like, or how father would scratch his temple when I frustrated him . . . Those were the memories I worked to cling to over the various annums that had passed, yet my family name had faded from my memory.
I was not a Nadien—an orphan. I lifted the thin booklet. As soon as it was in my hands, a glamour fell away from the grimoire, showing me the leather cover and its thickness that encompassed my stretched out palm.
The leather of the cover was made up of stitched-up sections, varying in colors. There was something quite familiar about the texture.
“It’s skin,” Lucinda interjected with glee in her tone.
I stopped petting the grimoire. The prophet chuckled. I hugged it to my chest.
“One final thing before you go, Amara,” she intoned. “When the time comes, you will take Lucinda with you.”
A loud scoff came from the other glass enclosure. Lucinda was already on her feet with a scowl settled on her face.
“Mother, I cannot leave you.”
Mother?
“You will. When the time comes. You will leave me and you will not turn back. I refuse to have this consciousness switched to you. I will not sacrifice you when many other children have been sacrificed to pass on the prophet. It ends with me.”
They stared at each other, Lucinda with a stiff upper lip, and the prophet calm. It was obvious they had had this argument many times before. Just as she mentioned the original council switched their consciousness . . . it also applied to the prophets.
The prophet turned back to me. “I will free her, and she will meet you whilst you flee,” she intoned.
I had just been assigned a companion.
“Do I—”
“You will only need to protect her until she leaves the Kingdom. Then fate will handle the rest.” She smiled secretively. An intense wave of fear washed over me.
I hugged the Lore of Old in my arms, tucking it tight to my chest, and ran from the closing bookcase.
Egan had begun pacing when I reached the top. His gaze fell on what I hugged, but I was already rushing past him toward the feeder wing. I would hide it and return to the Ball. Our footsteps pounded across the hall, reverberating off the walls.
“You will get yourself slaughtered!” Egan hissed, yanking me by my arm. I twisted it and got loose. We had reached the door leading into the feeder chamber, and I whipped it open.
Turning to face him, I said, “That was already my fate.”
Egan studied me, his jaw ticking.
“I do not want to greet death, Egan,” I whispered. He wilted, gaze flicking away from mine.
“Where is the Vessel?!” the booming shout echoed from the distance. Egan’s gaze dropped to the grimoire.
If Cassiel saw it, would he label me a traitor?
If I gave it to Egan, and he took it to his father, I was dead.
Both options were pathetic. I needed time to convince Cassiel I was not lying when I approached him with the truth.
I had run out of time.
Tossing myself before Egan, I pulled open his coat and shoved the book into the warmth. I had just gotten the edge of it tucked into his belt when the sound of steps thundered into the hall.
I stepped in front of Egan, so close I could breathe him in. His nostrils flared, and he swayed closer, blinking dazedly.
“Please keep this safe for me,” I whispered, tugging the edge of his jacket so it hid the spine.