Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Dominick
Dominick’s eyes throbbed. He strained to keep them open as he pulled on the heavy door to Dobro level in Darine Hall. Following the sign to the keepers’ wing, he almost missed the door that used to have Sera’s name printed across it. Now only scrape marks were left.
He knocked before letting himself in and heard a shuffling in the back of the stacks and a muttering of curses. Following the sound, he spotted Galene teetering on the top rung of a stool, reaching for what looked like a cup of some kind, and cleared his throat.
“Goddess Shadow!” Galene squealed. Dom rushed to catch the stout witch, barely getting under her before she hit the ground. She threw her magic at the dirty cup instead of saving herself. “What are you doing in my office?”
Galene shuffled toward the levitating dish, fuming. Her gloved hands lifted it from the bottom and placed it on a cart.
“I, um, I’m Dominick.” He got to his feet.
“Am I supposed to know who you are?”
“Sera told me to find you.”
She quirked her silver brow at him, then crossed the space and locked the door. “Teesina,” she said. “What do you know of Seraphina Wildrick?”
He couldn’t stop his snicker. “I know just about everything there is to know about her.”
Galene pursed her lips, and Dom saw exactly what Sera had always described—she did look like a gnome.
“They scraped her name off yesterday.” Galene wrung her hands over and over. “I don’t think they plan on her coming back.”
He suddenly became overheated. “Who’s they?”
“The master keeper. I thought her mother might prevent it, since she’s a chair now, but these aliato have been too close.”
“That’s what Sera told me to ask you about.” Dominick pulled the journal from his robes and handed it to the witch.
Galene let out a breath. “Thank Shadow,” she said. “I would recognize that irksome looped handwriting anywhere. I was sure they killed her.”
“Not quite.” He took a seat behind one of the worktables and rubbed his eyes. As much as he appreciated the promotion, lifelines was constant staring. “The Council sent her on a quest before they would help her retrieve Nora. The aliato… Sera told me to find out more from you.”
“Aliato, the winged soldiers of their maker. Angels, in the old language.” She stepped closer.
“The world needs balance. Light and dark. Angel and demon. Where we went wrong was when our founders defected.” Galene ripped off her gloves, pushed back a scraggly lock of hair from her forehead.
“Minimal texts are left that share our turbulent history with the aliato. Many died for the knowledge to be secured.”
Galene slipped on a new set of pristine gloves and motioned for him to follow her back into the stacks.
Books, artifacts. He swore he saw a pair of boots inside a glass case.
All of it was old and obsolete. He sneezed, and Galene glared over her shoulder.
The old witch unlocked a case that lined the back wall with a small golden key.
She pulled out a heavy tome and carefully turned the pages until she found what she was looking for.
Placing the tome on a stand, she pointed. “Look for yourself.”
The book was old. Older than anything he’d ever seen before. In the center of the page was an image he couldn’t quite make out: a red circle with a simple black figure emerging. On the page beside it was the outline of a woman. “I don’t understand.”
“It is the birth of Shadow.”
“The goddess was birthed?”
“She wasn’t a goddess at that time. She was a champion.” Galene flipped the page to a picture of the world. “The Dark Ones were born for the sake of Eraphon. We are the dark. The protectors.”
Dom’s brows reached his hairline. He wasn’t one for religion; he prayed to the goddess only when he needed a bit of luck. Come to think of it, that was all most of the coven members did. An old temple existed somewhere within the fortress, but he didn’t know anyone who went there.
“What happens,” Galene continued, “when a portion of that race aligns itself with the light?” Galene closed the book and put it back on the shelf, locking the cabinet and hiding the key around her neck. “Nothing good can come of it.”
She seemed paranoid, unhinged even. But the story was that witches and warlocks had been made from demons. To protect the planet from what?
“Thank you,” he said to the keeper.
“Tell Seraphina not to come here.” Galene hesitated. “She isn’t safe.” With a wave of her hand, the sound barrier lifted.
Dom could only nod, unlock the door, and head to his flat.