The toll is too great. I thought I could endure it, but it’s bringing me to heel.
Is Headmaster Wolff going insane, too? Back at Krähenstein, is he pacing his chambers and tearing his hair out like I do every night before I fall, exhausted?
I must…
I shouldn’t…
If I’m careful, nothing will happen. I’ve written it down before, a dozen times, perhaps, ripped the pages immediately and thrown them in the fire. As long as no one is around to read over my shoulder and I have a fire near, it’s safe to unburden myself. It only lasts for a few days, then I must do it again, or I’m afraidI’ll slam my head into a wall, over and over, until my skull cracks open.”
Stop!
Something at the back of Seraphina’s mind screamed at her. She couldn’t even blink. Her eyes were glued to the page, following the lines of text, her brain absorbing Matteo’s words greedily, like a sponge.
Stop!
The compulsion was like nothing she’d ever felt before. The pull to use the vomer bone? Insignificant. Right now, she could dig it out of her pocket and throw it across the barn for all she cared. She’d stopped breathing, and she knew she wouldn’t start again until she’d reached the end of the page, until she owned every detail of the secret Matteo was whispering to her from beyond the grave.
His grave was the bodies of revenants.
Stop!
Chapter Eight
If she told anyone, she would die.
“The Bastion Weave is a class A ward lattice of military application that I worked on for the better part of my career and finished six months ago. Headmaster Wolff asked me to sew six of them and not one more. We placed them inside the walls of five cities: Landshut, Schrobenhausen, Pfaffenhofen, Neuburg, and Ingolstadt. These cities will not fall. They can withstand a siege for however long the Bastion Weave is intact, undiscovered, and unremoved. The sixth lattice is in the wall of Krähenstein Academy, in case the one protecting the city fails.
But none of them will fail. The pattern does not have a kill-stitch, and all six lattices were made by my own hands, with no assistance from a shard technician.
It is a pattern that is unregistered and unknown to anyone aside from Headmaster Wolff and myself. The only rendition of it exists within the pages of this journal, split into parts and hidden between sketches and observations. Only a master weaver would be able to put it together and recreate it. Its shape is that of a trebled chevron.
To ensure that neither of us shared this secret with anyone, the headmaster and I decided to take an oath over the sacred mandible of Saint Tacmund. If we break the vow, the consequence is death. Moreover, the secret takes residence in the person it was confessed to, and that person shall keep it, or they will die as well and pass on the curse.
This is all. Now that I got it out, I’m feeling better already. My mind is clear and my breathing even. The tension is leaving my muscles. The toll of the Oath Relic is great. I knew it when I agreed to use it, but I didn’t think for a moment that it would crush me so. The secret wants to come out. The voices scream in my head day and night, until I catch myself opening my mouthto speak it into the world and lay the curse upon anyone who will hear it.
We will soon arrive at Krähenstein. Two more days on the road, then the headmaster and I will ease the toll for each other, as the oath wants to be spoken of. Locking ourselves in his office and recounting the strategy we’ve used to ensure that the five cities and the academy will never fall into the hands of the Blasphemer makes the toll bearable. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to carry it on my own. I should’ve never left for Tuscany.
Now, to burn these pages.”
Matteo had, in fact, not burned the pages.
Seraphina slammed the journal shut. Slowly, she set it aside, unfolded herself from the workbench, and moved to its edge, feet planted on the floor, hands on her knees. With her back straight, she stared at nothing in particular, just straight ahead, blinking normally. Her vision was less blurry.
She heard Idris come in, and she turned to him. He lit up, dropped the shovel and rushed to her, placed his hands on her cheeks to tilt her head toward the light of the fire.
“Look at you! I missed your beautiful, blue eyes.”
Seraphina smiled. She’d missed him too. She took in his dark skin, high cheekbones, his black hair cut close to his skull, his full lips and clean-shaved jaw. He never missed a shave, not even in the direst of circumstances.
“Any pain?” he asked. “How well do you see?”
“Well enough,” she said.
He laughed. “Seems like you’ve done some reading already, so I believe you.” He motioned at the discarded journal. “Anything good?”
“Oh, I just learned about this lattice–”
She stopped abruptly, her hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide and fixed on Idris, who lifted an eyebrow at her reaction.
