Chapter 17
There’s surprising quietude and order as we make our way into the Hallowed Wood.
The expansive clearing in the forest is speckled with unnerving statues of the Uldaran deities.
Immaculately upkept, some are carved out of wood, others of stone.
The Uldarans around us take turns approaching the different statues, speaking in soft voices to them and laying down flowers, foods, and small trinkets as offerings.
On my left, Briony is quiet and observant, and on my right, Odgar brims with reverent excitement.
He lowers his head to me, pointing toward the stone statue that looms above all the rest. “That’s Hofadr the Father of the gods.
Then there’s the Mother, Amodir.” He points to the second largest statue.
“Goddess of fertility, beauty, and love.”
There’s a woman standing in front of the statue, tears streaming down her face as she presses a hand to the stone and another to her own abdomen. I look away, feeling as though I’m intruding on a far too vulnerable, far too private moment.
I remember my mother pleading to Rhianu, our own Mother goddess, for more children. I, on the other hand, even before knowing about the curse of Enidwen, feared reproducing. The world doesn’t need more broken royals.
Perhaps Enidwen’s curse can end with me if there’s no one to pass it on to.
A hiss reverberates from within me. I close my eyes, fighting to fortify the pitiful excuse for a barrier in my mind. If only I had a strong drink right now …
“Are you still with me, raven?”
I turn my attention to Odgar and nod before letting my gaze survey the clearing again. I know the importance of children for royals—for the continuation of the bloodline. But if Odgar knew the truth, I’m certain he wouldn’t want my children.
Hells, he wouldn’t want me.
I rub my hands over my arms and cinch my cloak tighter around my neck to fend off the cold. Above us, gossamer clouds lazily drift by, mellowing the rays of the sun. I tip my head up to Odgar.
“Where is the Seer?” I ask him.
Odgar points toward a thick copse of trees beyond the clearing. “He lives in a hut deeper in the woods. Right through there. Are you ready to see him?”
My heart responds before I can, hammering erratically in my chest. “No,” I breathe. “But the longer I procrastinate, the more daunting it’ll be.”
Odgar nods and extends his elbow to me. I link my arm through his, feeling his muscles undulate as he gently pulls me against his side.
“Is it alright if I come along?” Briony asks quietly.
“Of course, Briony,” says Odgar. “If it’s alright with Carys, that is.”
I nod. “It’s fine with me.”
We make our way through the crowds and into the dense forest. The trees stretch even farther into the sky, and our surroundings grow darker.
The more distance we put between us and the Hallowed Wood, the more the stillness grows.
My skin prickles, and my palms begin to sweat.
There’s an odd density to the air by the time a small wooden hut with a thatched roof comes into view.
A worn pathway between taller unkempt bushes leads the way to the door.
Odgar’s arm tightens around mine, and Briony stands so straight that it looks unnatural and nearly painful.
“Gods,” I mumble.
“So, you feel it too,” Odgar whispers.
“I was going to say the same,” Briony adds. Her arm brushes mine as she nervously shifts closer. “That’s the Seer’s home? I expected a queue of people here.”
Odgar looks past me to Briony. “They’ll spend much of today appeasing the gods first.”
“Ah.” Briony nods in understanding.
I keep my eyes on the door covered with moss and ivy as I take a step forward. But Odgar doesn’t budge, his arm a vise grip around mine. “You can let go now,” I tell him.
He releases his hold after a moment of hesitation. But as I step onto the pathway, he’s right beside me again. He wraps his hand around mine, and all thoughts abandon me. I peer up at him as his brows draw together.
“Let me come with you,” he says.
My lips part, then close again. If this Seer is truly as powerful as I’ve been told, he may divulge things I’m not ready to have Odgar know yet.
I shake my head. “I need to do this on my own.”
Odgar sighs. “If at any time you feel unsafe, shout. And get out of there.”
My blood chills. “Are you trying to scare me?”
He smirks, and I want to slap him, but those twinkling sapphire eyes of his diffuse my temper.
“Fine, I’ll shout and run, if needed.”
His hand squeezes mine gently before I pull it away. Briony gives me a small nod when I look over my shoulder at her. I exhale and walk down the pathway toward the hut. My fist is only just raised to the moss-grown door when a gravelly voice calls from within, “Enter, child.”
My palms grow slicker as my pulse quickens.
I’m not sure what to expect, but as the door creaks open and I step into the dark interior, the sensation of spiders walking down my spine renders me immobile.
An unpleasantly earthy stench reaches my nose, the uncanny chill rivaling the frosty outdoors.
A few candles have almost melted onto a low table in the middle of the dark room.
Behind the table sits a figure, the hood of a tattered black cloak pulled low over his eyes and flowy sleeves concealing his hands.
“Come closer,” he drawls in the Common Tongue. He lifts a white, ghostly hand and waves me closer.
With my heart pulsating rapidly in my throat, I step forward until I can make out a bundle of furs on the floor. “Thank you for having me.” The words feel foolish on my lips as I sit atop the furs.
“You come in search of answers.”
I hold back a shudder. “Yes.”
“And a cure.”
“Yes.” Surely, it’s a coincidence, right? How many people come to him in search of answers and cures? It’s vague and a decent enough guess. I feel something stretch within me, like a cat waking from a nap.
“You doubt my authenticity,” the Seer says.
My throat squeezes. “I suppose there’s no point in lying to a Seer.”
“Correct.” His gravelly voice is flat, not a hint of amusement in it. “Before we begin, bring in the Priestess of Death.”
I frown, staring silently at his cloak where his eyes are hidden. Then it hits me. “Briony?”
“The priestess has ties beyond this realm. You will need her.”
I’ve never taken the time to think about it that way, nor have I had a conversation with Briony about her powers. But I nod and stand awkwardly, heading to the door. I poke my head out of the hut, grateful for fresh air. “Briony, the Seer wants you present.” My voice shakes slightly.
Odgar bristles and glances down at Briony, who wrings her hands together and nods, her movements jerky. In silence, I return to the hut, back into the earthy stench and unease as Briony follows.
“Welcome, Priestess,” the Seer drawls once we’re seated.
Briony reverently lowers her head. “Thank you, Your Holiness.”
He leans forward, his hood slipping back slightly to reveal intertwining keloidal scars across his cheeks and nose. His eyes are still covered, but his head is angled toward me. “Within you lives darkness.”
My heart wrings in my chest as Enidwen grows restless.
“An ancient darkness with the power to destroy nations. You are chaos and light, embers and shadowfire. The beginning of the end. The end of the beginning. The embers to the dusk, the sun to the moon. Without one the other cannot thrive.” He pauses, taking a rattling breath.
“Your soul yearns for that which both complements and balances the tenebrosity within you. The first daughter of Morwenna Meredyth—the lost Heir—she carries the same darkness. She is bound to you by shadows and dreams. By blood.”
My head reels, my thoughts tripping over each other as my heart bottoms out. My limbs grow numb, cold prickles leaving me paralyzed even as flames warm my fingertips.
“You must find her.”
Find the daughter of Dusk again. Find your sister. The memory of Enidwen’s voice in my head as I plunged into the loch returns to my mind.
Bound by shadows and dreams. Dreams.
“Durvla.” The name escapes my lips in a loud whisper as tiny embers burn in my clenched fists.
The Seer nods slowly. “The prophecy you seek lies in the Serpent’s Hollow.”
My brows furrow, but beside me, Briony fidgets with her dress.
“There you will find answers. A cure lies beneath the surface of a spring. Be forewarned: balance requires sacrifice, but sacrifice unleashes chaos.”
“Where is this Serpent’s Hollow?” I ask.
“In Erleya,” Briony quietly says beside me. She’s trembling, and it’s noticeable even in this horrifically dim lighting. “We call it Siad Nahar.”
The enchantress’s nails tap against my mind, but I hold firmly to my own thoughts.
An eerie smile pulls up one side of the Seer’s scarred face, but he doesn’t say anything else.
Briony speaks again, her gaze still glued to the Seer as if she’s afraid to look away. “It’s supposed to be near the northeast coast of Erleya. It’s said that the land only welcomes those who belong. That there’s a call for some, but no one knows how it works.”
Enidwen’s apparent unease bleeds into my senses and crawls over my skin. I fight the urge to itch or worse, to run.
“What exactly does that mean?” I ask, my voice just a whisper. “And what exactly is the cure? Is it an item? Does the spring have magical properties?”
“Dark times are coming,” the Seer croaks, ignoring all my questions.
Annoyance and frustration fill me, encouraging the enchantress’s attempt to force her way into the foreground of my mind.
“Endless winters,” the Seer continues. “Destruction. Death. Find the Serpent’s Hollow. Find the lost Heir. May the gods be with you.” With that, his head drops, the hood almost fully covering his face now.
I sit up straighter. “Wait. When do I need to go back? Now? And how will I find Durvla? How does the cure work? And the call? You barely gave me any—”
Suddenly, Briony is up, tugging me along with her. “Come on,” she whispers with urgency.