6. Chapter Six
Chapter 6
“W hat did you see?” Dante asked Sypha as they strolled into his office. It had been hours since Rieka had left, but he could not work. He was far too occupied with the hybrid. He had never come across another Atlantean with eyes the same as hers.
Sypha sat on the chair. Their sharp pink talons sparkled in the light. “Nothing.”
Dante had not been expecting that response. Very few could escape Sypha’s gift of foresight, not even him. “Rieka has no future?”
“No,” Sypha said, as if they were struggling with how to explain what they meant. “Nothing isn’t the right word. There is something—I can’t see through it. It is as if a fog surrounds her, as if it is protecting her.”
“Have you encountered this before?”
Sypha looked at their hands. “No.”
There was a tinge to Sypha’s voice, one he had not heard in centuries, a tone that was edged in fear. Night was descending. The bright lights twinkled, but the city was in no danger of slowing down.
Sypha shook their head, breaking the trance. “Will she attend the Jimourt?”
“Yes.”
“On her own volition?”
Rieka was a dreamer, and he had gambled on the fact that she could not walk out without asking about the artifact. He had chosen the image to help him gain the upper hand. Only a select few Atlanteans knew of the sketch’s existence. Of those, only one Atlantean had believed it was real and not an artist’s interpretation. Rieka’s reaction had almost been visceral. She had seen it before, and he wanted to know where. The glint of recognition in her flame-colored eyes had sparked a long-extinguished glimmer of hope within him. Perhaps there was some truth to the ramblings of his father. “She demanded to have access to the contents of the vault and to be reinstated as the co-director of the excavation.”
“Both are within your power.” Sypha smiled as they stood and walked toward him. “The dreams haven’t changed. Rieka is in all of them.”
“What is her role?”
Sypha half-turned; their dual-colored eyes glistened with unnamed emotions. “They are flashes, milliseconds of images. Darkness, blood, and violet flames. It makes no sense. She wears the gauntlet of Vandana in the visions.”
“Gauntlet?” Dante had never heard of it.
“It sometimes appears to look more like a bracelet, almost a part of her flesh. Some believe that it was what gave Vandana the ability to control the flames.”
Dante nodded, filing the information away. He would need to look more deeply into it. “And Rieka’s link with House Atlas?”
The seas had done more than swallow their original home, Atlantis. It had forced the four surviving Houses to flee and find new locations to thrive. The ruling Atlantean House itself had been destroyed. No descendant had ever claimed the throne. Or attempted to claim lineage to the House.
“Vandana’s flame still exists,” Sypha said, their gaze turning toward the window. “For as long as there is a living direct descendant, it will continue to burn.”
It was an ancient myth that countless Atlanteans had never wavered from. The undying violet flame held within House Azaes was the only evidence they had that the royal house lineage still existed, but Dante didn’t believe in fairytales.
Sypha reached out. “Would you like to see for yourself?”
Dante nodded, steeling himself for the barrage of emotions that came from brushing up against the seer. “Yes.”
Sypha gently placed their icy hands on him. A kaleidoscope of colors erupted around him, breathtakingly and viciously beautiful. They merged into one a moment before something ripped through his mind in a wave of agony.
H ours later, and Dante could not escape the taste of death and ash in his mouth. He closed his eyes. And it was as if the connection with Sypha remained. He unclenched his fists as his body slowly stopped shaking.
Dante stared through the glass, the lights glittering as humans and Atlanteans continued their lives, unaware of the emerging threats. He barely understood them. Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed as he focused. Sypha was right; there was no distinct image. It had been an onslaught of emotions. A shadow of a woman who was just out of his reach. But there had been a woman’s voice that had slithered through his mind, a chant he had barely heard. Three words that had been repeated over again, until he didn’t know if it was coming from him or the vision. But in the icy silence, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t want to believe it.
“Protect the heir.”