When he didn’t, he stammered, “S-so I’m supposed to… I’m supposed to restore an ancient peace? How? By reclaiming the fallen territory, like you said?”
“Well, this isn’t the entirety of the prophecy. These are only the first lines.” Hanna spoke tentatively, as if prompting him. Right—this Domenic did know from school. The prophecies functioned as instructions. The original piece led the Chosen One to another, then another. Until either the Chosen One prevented the cataclysm before it began, or thwarted it just as it unfolded.
Domenic forced in air, trying vainly to calm himself. “How many pieces do I have to find in total?”
“Past Chosen Ones received between six and eight additional pieces, excluding the original prophecy,” she answered. “The prophecy pieces each require a task to fulfill them. Sometimes how that task relates to thwarting the cataclysm is clear; other times, it’s mysterious in the moment but makes sense in hindsight. Regardless, it’s always the final piece that’s the hardest, that requires the greatest power to fulfill. And we’ll know for sure when you receive that final piece, as it’ll have four lines like the original prophecy, whereas each piece in between has two.”
“All right,” Domenic said, struggling to absorb it all. “But how am I supposed to get more pieces if there aren’t any leaves left?”
At once, he knew he’d spoken wrong again, because Hanna and Iseul cringed, Sharpe coughed out smoke, and that same expression flitted across every other Councilor’s face.
Fear.
“What?” he asked. “What is it?”
“I knew it. All the questions you’ve been asking—you haven’t heard it, have you?” Glynn gasped. “Destiny always speaks thenext piece of the prophecy to its Chosen when they bond with Valmordion.”
“Oh?” His whole body trembled. “And what if—what if I didn’t get that memo?”
The silence echoed. Domenic wouldn’t even mind bursting into flame right then. He would’ve welcomed it.
Peak chuckled, but it sounded forced. “There’s some sort of explanation then, I’m sure.”
“Yes, I’m sure there is,” Sharpe said, pounding his cigarette into the ashtray. “We’re all fucked.”
Iseul blanched. “Sir, that isn’t—”
“No.You and Mayes are too biased, and you swore before we came in here that you wouldn’t meddle. The two of you, coddling him, fighting his battles for him. It’s pathetic.” His chair screeched as he stood. “Valmordion may have bonded with this… thisboy,but just because his destiny is to save us doesn’t mean he’ll succeed! I mean,him,the champion of Summer? Where do you see Summer’s fire? Its strength? Its fervor? The only reason he wasn’t expelled years ago was because according to the Prime Minister, the Order—who provides every service to this country, whose magicians give their lives each year fighting Winter—weapparently can’t afford to look heartless. As if the Syarthis Disaster was our own doing!No.We each have a destiny to lead this country, and I refuse to lead it into ruin!”
Domenic lurched to his feet and paced in front of the fireplace. Furious, mortified tears spilled down his cheeks.
“I-I get it. You think Iwantthat wand? You think Iwantevery life in Alderland on my shoulders? I don’t even believe in destiny. Just because you hand me mysterious instructions on some leaf doesn’t mean I buy that I’ve actually been Chosen from the day I was born. Because if my whole life has led up to Valmordion, what the hell does that make what happened to me? What happened to both of us? Our classmates?” He jerked his head atHanna. “I refuse to believe that every event I’ve lived through has been… been…” He couldn’t find the words.
“By design,” Hanna spat, and nodded in agreement.
“Right. Exactly. So I’m sorry I’m not your perfect Chosen One. Or, what was the better word you called me earlier—a disgrace?” He grinned at Sharpe maliciously. “Yeah, I heard you all arguing. But guess what?I wouldn’t have Chosen me either.”
The other Councilors seemed to have forgotten how to close their mouths. Hanna fiddled with something in her lap.
Sharpe fumed, more furious than ever.
Domenic resumed pacing. “What about Ellery Caldwell?”
“What about her?” Glynn asked warily.
“Well, she’s a part of this. She made a Living Wand. Analbanwand. Seems to me you do have your perfect Chosen One, right there.”
Sharpe cocked a brow, as if amused he finally agreed with him. Then he barked, “Mayes, it’s decided. Go to her.”
Domenic hastily smeared his cheeks on his sleeve and smoothed down his rumpled hair. “You’re bringing her here?”
“No. Or at least, not until she provides answers about her wand that finally make a shred of sense.”
Domenic startled. Caldwell’s wand might’ve been unprecedented, its appearance strange, but Caldwell was the Order’s darling. And they were describing her like a criminal.
Hanna rose grimly. Her fingers flexed over Syarthis, and its tip curled around the crook of her thumb.
“Sir, I feel adamantly that this step is unnecessary,” Glynn said. “Caldwell has proven herself to be nothing but loyal. Is this really how we wish to reward—”
