—
“What does it mean?” Loren asked.
She was leaning on a wooden counter in the dark and otherwise empty basement of the Old Hall, studying Darien’s expression as he looked over the three-foot-long scroll they’d dug out from underneath a flagstone. Two of Darien’s pocketknives served as paperweights at the curled top of it. The glow of the flashlight slid steadily down the parchment as Darien deciphered the mystical and obscure symbolism and imagery decorating every inch of its yellowed surface.
Dominus Volumenwas scrawled across the top of the parchment. The literal translation of the two words wasMaster Scroll.
Darien’s face lined with frustration as he reached the end of the parchment. At least, the half of the parchment that was here. The other half was missing; there was a tear at the end, where it cut abruptly through an image of the eight points of the Scarlet Star.
“It means,” Darien began, taking a deep breath. He blew it out in a sigh and admitted, “I have no idea what the hell it means.” He gestured to the faded manuscript. “It’s mostly riddles and metaphors. Little of it makes any sense.”
“Can you not readanyof it?” Dallas asked.
“I can readsomeof it. It talks of chemical baths, and something called an Arcanum Well. If I had to guess, I’d say this is a manual of sorts. Instructions for how to create this thing called the Arcanum Well. Look here.” He read a line in fluent Reunerian. When he was finished, Darien pursed his lips in concentration. “In other words, it cannot be undone or replicated—only remade.”
“The Arcanum Well?” Dallas asked.
“That’s my best guess.”
“What I found on the Schades was correct, then,” Loren concluded. Those five hours she’d spent trying to get into the stupid shadow web had been worth her time after all. “The Phoenix Head Society created an artefact that could grant mortals an immortal life.”
Dallas cut in. “That still doesn’t explain how any of this is connected to you. And what about that Initiation thing that Cain Nash mentioned? How does that tie into this?”
“According to what I found online, the Initiation was the name they gave to the act of turning a mortal into an immortal,” Loren said. Her eyes flicked to Darien. “But Cain said it sounded more like a sacrifice. Didn’t he?”
“Cain could’ve been wrong,” Darien said. “His source of information is mostly rumors.”
They considered it in silence for a time. Loren had hoped there would be more down here—a solid explanation for what was happening, left behind by the members of the Phoenix Head Society. But little remained. And aside from the Dominus Volumen, there was nothing that caught her eye—nothing but a line of demarcation on the floor that indicated that some piece of furniture used to sit there.
“It clearly has something to do with your bloodline,” Darien said, the ghostly beam of the flashlight outlining his features in deep shadow. “Whoever is after you is using your ancestor’s bone powder to track you. Which means you are related to someone who was perhaps incredibly powerful,” he paused to jab the scroll with a finger, “or incredibly smart. Maybe it’s something as simple as the abductors believing you have access to this scroll.”
“And Ido,”Loren said. “Now that I have it, maybe we can trade it for Sabrine.”
“Not so fast,” Darien said. Loren blinked. “You don’t just go handing over the one thing that might give us the upper hand, Rookie. First, we need to find out what they want. If it’s the scroll, then fine. Problem solved. But if it’s you they’re after—youspecifically—then our troubles are far from over.”
Loren sighed. She blinked her tired eyes at the faded ink on the parchment, head spinning with exhaustion. The weight of all these sleepless nights was dragging her down.
“Do you remember anything at all from your past?” Darien asked. He straightened and crossed his arms, the scroll crackling as it curled back into a loose cylinder.
“I don’t have any memories from before my fifth birthday. What I know about my past is only what I was told: that I was found by a priest at the temple and eventually adopted by Roark and his wife. The priest passed away several years ago, so there’s no chance of us asking him anything.”
Darien turned to Dallas. “And you? What do you remember from when your parents brought Loren home?”
Dallas shook her head. “Nothing. I have a terrible memory as it is; I can’t even recall the first time I met Loren. To me, she was always justthere.”
Darien pursed his lips in thought. “Do you think you could talk to Roark and see if he has any information that might help us?”
Sadness crept into Dallas’s eyes. “He’s too busy,” she mumbled, dropping her focus to the floor. “Trust me. If I’m lucky, I hear from him twice a year.”
As the Red Baron, Roark was hardly home. He was always training Fleets throughout the continent, the winged army that helped protect the world of Terra from unpredictable threats. They also dealt with demons if they became too powerful or great in number for cities—or Darkslayers—to handle on their own.
“And what about Taega?” Darien asked.
Loren grimaced, and Dallas gave a snort.
The slayer’s brows pulled together. “What’s funny?”
“Oh, Taega doesn’t talk to us,” Dallas said, her tone one that suggested this should be obvious to every person in the world, even if they didn’t know Taega. “Like, ever.”
