After a moment, we clasp each other’s forearms, an iron pact passing in the grip.
“I know I will,” I say, my voice firm.
Reon nods, his expression grim but resolute. Without another word, I move past him, climbing the stairs to the deck.
Dawn greets me in a wash of amber light, spilling over the horizon and casting long, slanted shadows across the deck ofThe Shattered Edge. Smaller than most Mordorin vessels, it requires only a modest crew. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in speed. We’ve cut across the sea swiftly, the wind at our backs and yet, we are still chasing shadows and whispers, always one step behind.
The cries of seabirds grow louder, mingling with the rhythmic slap of waves against the hull. Ahead, a dark mass looms on the edge of sight. The land of Moltas and the city of Ballamar inch closer.
The snap of the sails draws my eyes upward, where the silhouette of my sister stands perched in the crow’s nest, high above me. Seeing her there is a bitter reminder: if I want her counsel, I’ll have to climb.
I grunt, gripping the ladder and hauling myself upward. The wood bites into my palms as I ascend, the distance between us shrinking until I pull myself onto the narrow platform where she sits, her gaze fixed on the city ahead.
“How long do you think the sigils will last this time?” she asks without turning, her voice low and steady.
“As long as they can,” I reply, settling beside her. “And when they fade, I’ll have Solena ink them again.”
“At this rate, the maid’s fingers will fall off before we find Amara,” she says dryly. “And then what?”
I exhale, my patience thinning. “What would you have me do? Without the sigils, we risk being found by Gygarth.”
Her silence stretches like a taut string before she finally speaks. “You acknowledge the risk. Youarethe risk, brother. If the sigils fail, they could lead the demon straight to us. To her.” She turns slightly, her profile sharp against the dawn. “Have you ever considered that if we can’t find her, it means Gygarth can’t either? And maybe it’s better that way?”
I scoff, the sound bitter in my throat. “What are you saying? That it’s better for Amara to remain lost?”
Her stony gaze flicks to me. “We both know what will happen if we fail. She’ll die, and your child will be infused with the void’s power, just as you were. But if she stays hidden, she and the child might be spared. Is that not worth giving up this quest?”
Her words strike deep, drawing anger from a place I’ve tried to bury.
“You forget,” I say, my voice edged with ire. “Gygarth is not the only one who wishes Amara harm. The Golden Son is a part of this, and whatever the Ithranor are planning, it was worth crossing me to get to her. Do you think I can just leave her to that fate?”
Zyphoro shakes her head, a dry snicker slipping from her lips. “You could have stopped this.”
“How could I have known the Golden Son had allied with the Ithranor?” I reply tersely.
“Not that,” she snaps, spinning to face me. Her black curls whip in the wind, framing her storm-lit eyes as they burn into mine. “You knew what she was before she ever set foot in Baev’kalath, but you said nothing. Did nothing. You kept her as your little secret,all the while knowing what she would become. You knew she would be more than just a prize to Gygarth and his wretched consort, Lanneth. She would be coveted and feared by every Fae in existence, because she’s Awakened. You knew what that meant, and instead of doing what was necessary, what was expected of you, you let her live. You should have killed her in that forest.”
The venom in her words ignites something primal in me. My teeth bare, smoke curling between my fingers like serpents in the air, but Zyphoro does not flinch. Nothing ever frightens Zyphoro.
“How dare you,” I hiss, my voice low and venomous. “I told you everything in confidence, and now you use it against me?”
But her gaze is not laced with malice or hatred. It holds something heavier. Sadder. A truth I refuse to accept.
“If you had killed her then,” she says, her voice quiet now, almost a whisper, “she wouldn’t be suffering as she is now. She wouldn’t have become the weapon everyone desires. The tool they will destroy each other to possess.”
“You forget, sister,” I snarl through clenched teeth, the smoke around me thickening into an ominous mist. “If not for Amara, you would still be rotting in that enchanted cage. Lanneth would still rule, and our father would still be her puppet.”
A ghost of a grin tugs at her lips, one laced with resignation, not humor. She bows her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her. “That’s the difference between us, brother. The difference that has always been.” She lifts her gaze. “I would have stayed in that cage gladly if it meant preventing this cursed cycle. If it meant sparing you from being bound to Gygarth’s shadow. But you…you weren’t willing to sacrifice your happiness for hers. You wanted her too much to see reason. You convinced yourself you could save her.”
“I tried to resist,” I say, the admission barely a breath.
Her laugh pierces the air, mocking and bitter. “And yet you failed miserably.”
I step closer, my anger barely contained. “Then why are you here? Why bother helping me when you think she’s better off lost?”
Her gaze hardens, her expression unreadable as she raises a hand. Shadows twist and writhe around her fingers, coalescing into a dagger as dark as night.
“You know why,” she says softly. The blade gleams menacingly as it catches the faintest light. “I’m here in case you fail again…or if you succeed. I am the bones that rattle beneath the rock, the reminder of a fate written in blood that cannot be unwritten, no matter how much you wish it so. And I will have my vengeance, Daedalus. Whether it be on Gygarth…or you.”
