A tremor goes down my back.
I should leave. They will be able to hear me, no doubt. Both possess a heightened sense of hearing. The mere fact that my breathing is out of control or that my heart is pounding like a drum in my chest could give me away any second.
“Inara…” My father sighs. I expect him to turn to the door, open it to find me eavesdropping. But he does not. His features do not betray the fact that he can hear me so close, nor do my mother’s. Despite every sign that points to another person being in the hallway, they do not react at all.
“What do you suggest we do?” My father asks, plopping himself on a chair and pouring himself a drink. Still, he does not sense me.
Odd. Very, very odd.
“We talked about this, Hanth. It is either him, or us. And I know what my choice is.”
There is a pause. My heart hammers in my chest as I await the words I know will follow. For a moment, I am not sure of her reply as my pulse echoes in my ears. A screeching sound stabs at my eardrums, trying to shield me from the truth. But soon, my mother’s words become crystal clear.
“Nykander must die.”
4
My heart stops in my chest.
Surely I did not hear her right. But just as I try to convince myself it is my faulty hearing, she continues.
“You know as well as I do. This will not stop unless Nykander dies. If anything, it might get worse.”
“I don’t know Inaria. He is our son,” my father says in a ragged voice. “I cannot kill my own son.”
“He isnotour son, Hanth. He is a harbinger of death, just like his birth prophesied. And this is not just my fanciful notion. Why do you think the Lord Supreme asked that all babies born on the night of the eclipse be put on a registry? Why did he forbid them from cultivating their spiritual energy? He even went as far as to put out a death warrant for anyone who dares to train them. Why do you think he went to such lengths if he did not believe in the curse? If he did not fear for what might become of our realm—again?”
A bitter taste floods my mouth as I struggle to comprehend what I am hearing. Anguish grips at every fiber of my being, twisting and contorting until it makes me physically ill. I wobble on my feet, dizzy and confused.
Everything was a…lie?
My parents always told me I was born with defective spiritual energy that prevented me from cultivating as others of our kind did. For that reason, I have been enrolled in theoretical studies since I learned how to read.
But that was not the case, was it?
I was not born with defective spiritual energy.
I was born cursed.
A lump forms in my throat.
I have read about the so-called curse of the eclipse—that many historical Sons of Tenebreis who were born during the peak of the eclipse almost ruined Tartareia. Their names are synonymous with catastrophe.
I know the history well enough to realize the enormity of my mother’s words.
But how… Why was I not told any of this?
More painful than my parents’ betrayal is the fact that my curse means Ididkill those people. How, I do not know. But something within me must have done so. Something wicked and insidious.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart is beating irregularly in my chest, and once more, I sway on my feet, barely keeping myself together.
Yet my parents do not realize I am here. Despite their superior hearing, they do not react to any of the noises that are deafening to me.
Now it makes sense why my mother always treated me with coldness and contempt; or why my father always looked upon me with pity in his gaze. I finally see what they saw.
Danger.
For close to one thousand and two hundred years, they have had to live with a harbinger of death—sleep, eat and exist alongside an abomination. And with every mysterious death thathappened around me, their belief that the curse is real must have been solidified.
