Chapter 65
Chapter Sixty-Five
Faylinn
For hours, we combed through dilapidated structures, stepping carefully around bones and tiptoeing through destruction as we searched for the lost knowledge Kaos was certain was hidden within the ruins.
More than once, Ellowyn froze, head swiveling and pupils blown wide as if seeing or hearing something only privy to her.
Even I had to admit that the place felt wrong.
Eventually, we picked across the deadened grass to the middle of the town, a massive home with a caved-in roof marking the spot.
There was an inexplicable draw to this place—like something otherworldly was calling me, pushing me to examine the walls and stones further.
Despite the skeletons that riddled the ground and the cloying feeling of death, I followed the call, jumping over bones and skulls, one occasionally cracking beneath my boots.
As if in a trance, my fingertips caressed the worn stone, bumps and indentations taking a life of their own as I sought the pull’s origin. After little searching, I found a series of runes, blackened by centuries of blood.
It sang to me—the dried blood—and I quickly added my own, forcing the wall to reveal a hidden door and stairway.
A stairway that led us deep into the depths of the earth and catacombs beyond.
My pulse thundered in my neck, yet my steps were sure and quick, buoyed by the prospect of finding exactly what I came for in such short order.
My hopes, though, were quickly dashed when we emerged in a large underground chamber, the scent of smoke and ash hanging heavily in the stagnant air.
We froze at the threshold, both Ellowyn and I aghast at the sheer destruction in this space.
Scorch marks marred the walls, obscuring centuries of painted runes and drawn histories.
The top of what were once magnificent tapestries clung to the rafters while the rest hung in tatters.
A thick layer of ash coated the floors, stone bookcases blackened by the heat of fire, their shelves now only holding remnants of what I expected were priceless tomes.
“There is nothing here,” Ellowyn said, anguished and aghast. “Why would Kaos lead you here if there was nothing left?”
My soul echoed her emotions, only growing more despondent the further I walked through the room, fingertips trailing over the soot ingrained into the walls.
“There is something here. There has to be,” I muttered, refusing to believe that this whole journey, that my conversation with Kaos, was for nothing.
“Kaos is many things, but I can’t see him leading us here without good reason,” I continued. Ellowyn sighed, her steps creating little clouds of dust as she followed me around the room.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps the damage was much more thorough than he originally expected. Didn’t he say that this was Solace’s birthplace? If his descendant destroyed it, I highly doubt she would let Kaos in here to assess the damage.”
I hummed noncommittally, eyes canvassing every inch of the hidden room, searching for some sort of clue. My gaze snagged on a small pillar in the direct center, no taller than my waist. I cocked my head, abandoning my examination of the walls.
“A book rested here,” I claimed, fingertips trailing over the stone. There were small runes engraved on the surface, but they were either too faded for me to read or beyond my level of comprehension.
I scrubbed my boot along the ground, curious as the ash moved to reveal what looked to be more runes etched into the stones.
“It was activated with blood,” I muttered.
“The Keepers used runes to communicate?” Ellowyn asked.
“Yes,” I muttered absentmindedly as I continued to search the surrounding ground for any indication of what to do next.
“At least to some extent. Most likely in rituals and record keeping, since that was the universal language up until a few centuries ago,” I finished, gazing upward to the precariously sagging rafters.
“Do you think there are more runes here? Maybe ones you could read?”
“Possibly,” I admitted, moving back to the wall to continue tracing the stone with my fingertips.
“Do you truly think this is where they kept all of their records?” Ellowyn asked suddenly.
I stopped and turned to regard her, rubbing my nose as dust settled and made my eyes water.
That same dust settled in Ellowyn’s normally bright blonde hair, dulling the hue significantly.
I grimaced slightly when I brought a hand to my hair, feeling the grime embedded in my curls.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, trying to remove as much of the dust as possible.
The godling shrugged. “The Keepers and Solace have been around for centuries, right?”—I nodded—“Then shouldn’t there be centuries of information here? Centuries of prophecies and truths? Records and annals?”
“Yeesss,” I dragged out the word, abandoning my efforts to clean my hair in favor of focusing on Ellowyn’s theory.
“Fay, you’re so incredibly intelligent yet rather obtuse right now,” Ellowyn sighed in loving exasperation as she started to pace the width of the room, one hand crossed over her chest while gesturing wildly with the other.
Her agitated strides only served to launch more ash into the air, the motes falling to coat our skin and hair further.
“There is no feasible way that this small a room held all of that knowledge. That those bookshelves you see carved into the walls held the only records in existence.”
“So what’re you saying? That there’s some sort of secret room down here?” I asked, intrigued by the notion.
“What was it that Kaos said to you?” she asked, halting her manic pacing, steel-grey eyes glinting with determination.
“He said to ‘find the truth within the lies. Only then will you truly see,’” I sighed.
I’d repeated those instructions nearly a thousand times during our journey here, both inwardly and out loud to Ellowyn.
They made no more sense now, deep in the belly of the Keeper’s ancestral home, than they did that day in the Academy’s library.
“Solace is the Goddess of Visions, right? And her descendants received those visions? Used them to predict the future?” Ellowyn asked, and I nodded.
“Yes. She blessed each of them with visions that the Truthsayers were then instructed to parse through in order to ascertain the truth within them . . .” I trailed off, heart beating rapidly as my gaze snapped to Ellowyn’s.
The light and excitement I knew mine held was reflected in her steel-grey depths.
“What if—”
“There’s a Seeing Room down here?” Ellowyn finished, nearly bouncing in place. “The Keeper who visited my parents—Jarius—he used the Seeing Room in Hestin’s temple to try and receive clearer visions. Something about speaking with the ancestors . . .”
Blood roared in my ears at the implication.
“If the Seeing Rooms can tap into the combined understanding of the ancestors—”
“Then it would reason to believe that they hold the collective history of Elyria.”
“But I’m not a Truthsayer. How can I separate truth from lies?” I asked. Ellowyn closed her mouth with an audible click, her shoulders slumping incrementally.
“Yes. That does pose a problem.”
We stood silent together for a moment, both processing our potential discovery. My gaze jumped over the walls once more, snagging on a spot near a collapsed staircase, one that most likely led upward to the communal space of the main house.
My feet moved of their own accord, hand outstretched to trace the runes carved into the stone. They were blackened with blood, the edges softening into the stone from centuries of use.
“What do those say?” Ellowyn asked softly.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, frustrated by the sheer lack of understanding. I was a Rune Master—the Bondsmith’s daughter and granddaughter of Fate. One of the smartest people in Elyria, and I felt like little more than a child in the face of this vast, antiquated knowledge.
“Only one way to find out,” I answered wryly, shakily drawing my dagger from my pouch.
Ellowyn’s pale fingers wrapped in a cold, unrelenting grip around my wrist, staying my motions.
“Wait, Fay. We don’t know what these do. What if . . . what if something happens to you? What if you die or we awaken some beast meant to protect the knowledge here?” She worried her lip between her perfectly white teeth, concern etched in her furrowed brow.
I smiled tightly at my friend, but gently peeled her fingers from my arm.
“I have to know, Ellowyn. We’re here. We may never return. Part of learning is taking risks, of trying something new in order to gain comprehension. This”—I gestured to the rune of an eye—“is one of those times.”
Ellowyn withdrew but crossed her arms tightly, shaking her head once. “I don’t like this,” she stated.
My smile softened as I gently rubbed my friend’s shoulder.
“I’m not ecstatic about it, either, but it’s something we have to do. We’re getting desperate, Ellowyn. We need to find the last two artifacts, need to unravel the secrets and surround the gods and Meru if we are to defend Elyria and secure its future. That doesn’t happen without taking risks.”
My words hung heavy in the air, silence ringing between us as Ellowyn digested my declaration.
With a sigh and a slump, Ellowyn acquiesced.
“Okay,” she said quietly, suddenly less the godling and queen and more the frightened girl I’d met years ago.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, but even I didn’t fully believe my words.
Ellowyn said nothing further as I quickly sliced open my hand. I let it pool in my palm before raising my arm, blood trailing down my wrist to saturate my sleeve, and smearing it across the three stones that seemed the blackest.
With a sudden thump that had Ellowyn screaming, magic instantly dancing in her palms, the wall shifted, and a small lever revealed itself.
Dry, stale air bled from the crack in the wall as I pulled the lever, opening the hidden door fully.
I poked my head just inside the entrance, refusing to step inside until I’d assessed the room. Ellowyn stuck her head around mine, clearly searching for threats.
“It’s . . . cozy,” Ellowyn remarked dryly once she was certain the room was just a room.
I barked a laugh before taking a singular step forward.
“That’s because it’s a Seeing Room, Ellowyn,” I remarked. Ellowyn’s expression reflected the awe and wonder in my voice. I took another step inward, cocking my head at the blackened stone on the inner wall.
My chest vibrated with intensity as I gazed at the singular stone, a thousand lives held in the blood there.
As if in a trance, I pressed my hand atop it, mixing my blood with that of thousands of others.
“Fay!” Ellowyn shouted as my palm made contact. My head whipped to hers just in time to see her eyes flash with panic as the hidden door closed, separating us with an ominous thunk.
“Welcome, granddaughter of Fate. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” a voice purred in the darkness.
“Waiting for me?” I mumbled, desperately trying to see in the oppressive black.
The air shifted, cloying humidity sticking in my lungs before a wind whipped around my hair and clothes. The wind died suddenly, leaving the air dry and still once more.
“We’ve seen it in the stars, written it in our prophecies. This moment was always going to come to pass. You seek knowledge which is not yours to possess. Desire to separate the truths from the lies, to see the future and its winding pathways.”
There was an edge to the voice, though I wasn’t certain it was altogether angry.
“I just want to save my friends, save my home,” I admitted softly. “If you could just show me where the artifacts are, I could—”
“It is all, or it is nothing,” the voice admonished.
“Then all,” I quickly said, my heart fluttering as the air shifted again, growing warmer as it caressed my skin.
“A payment must be made.”
“What is the price?” I asked, voice shaking with a healthy mix of fear and anticipation.
“Your blood.”
I breathed a quick sigh, shoulders falling from my ears as I laughed lightly.
“That seems logical. I can just—” I reached for my dagger before the voice stopped me once more.
“All of it.”
“A-all of it?” I whispered, wiping away the sweat from my brow and palms.
“The cost is equivalent to the knowledge gained,” the voice replied evenly.
My heart thundered in my chest, and my breaths came in harsh pants as I debated.
“Choose quickly, granddaughter of Fate. Your time is near an end.”
In more ways than one, I thought wryly.
Cautiously, so as not to alert Rohak, I shut the Bond, closing our communication so he wouldn’t feel my agony as I willingly spilled every drop of my blood.
I raised my dagger to my wrist, but paused with the tip balanced against my skin.
“My Bonded. Will he—”
“He will live.”
“How—”
“The moment is now, granddaughter of Fate. Choose.”
The air vibrated with a suffocating intensity as the earth itself seemed to shake. With a cry, I dug the dagger into my skin, sharp steel slicing through tendon and muscle as I opened my arm from wrist to elbow.
Immediately, blood sluiced from the wound, saturating the rune-embossed rug. But it still wasn’t enough. Nausea rose and burned my throat as I gripped the dagger with my injured hand, fingers numb and cold.
The second cut was much less neat than the first, my body spasming from the blood loss, my movements jerky from the cold settling into my soul.
Tears streamed down my face as I finished, dagger falling to the ground shortly before I did, head thunking against the carpet.
But I didn’t feel the pain.
I felt nothing, oddly.
Just a bone-numbing cold and soul-deep fear that I’d done something irreparable.
A feeling that only metastasized when the voice whispered, “Your payment is accepted. We have not had one with blood as powerful as yours in centuries, granddaughter of Fate.”