A couple appeared through the mist behind them, so Kywyn urged him forward. “Let’s get back home, shall we?”
“I think we have some things to discuss,” Sean said to his father.
Kywyn shot a rueful smile at the forest floor. “You’re finally ready to hear it?”
“Yes. It’s time.”
Kywyn nodded and led them back to the Tree. They said nothing on the walk, giving minimal information to the Shaman, enough to make Nish happy, who was apparently displeased by David’s involvement in the whole thing.
It was mid-afternoon by the time they arrived. At the stairs, Autumn branched off toward their suite, her arm tight about David’s. “I’m going to take him to rest.”
“I’ll leave you both to talk.” Isobel placed a small kiss on Sean’s temple. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”
“You don’t want to come?”
She hesitated. “Talk it through with your father,” she said. “He’ll have a better outlook than me.”
Sean raised a brow.
“It’s not something I like to think about, Sean,” she said, gaze heavy.
Ah. Right.
The prediction of her death.
Why would she want to rehash that?
Once the lock snicked behind them in Kywyn’s quarters, Sean headed for his favorite sofa—the cozy one in the smallest sitting room—and collapsed.
Kywyn took the seat opposite. “What exactly are you hoping to learn?”
“I want to know why they call meAshanta,” Sean said. “I mean…divine light? What is that?”
His father pitched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “After Lhynion’s death, Kassandra was the one who spoke of a Saviorwho would follow in his footsteps, one who would save us from the brink of extinction.”
“Who was she?”
“The last oracle. Blessings from the Great Mother. They pop up every thousand years or so and eventually kill themselves because they can’t handle Seeing to the end of the world. She’s been gone centuries now.”
Yikes. Alright, then.“So she had a vision about me?”
“We call them Sendings.” Kywyn sighed as he pulled a book from a nearby desk, flipping to one of the middle pages. “This is a copy of the Oracle’s Journal. It’s…well, it’s our sacred text. An account of all the oracles who’ve ever existed. Kassandra wasn’t very specific. I think she could See many different futures, and she wasn’t sure which of them would prevail. But just after Lhynion died, this is what she wrote.”
He offered the book, which Sean took with a trembling hand. The innocent Lux words were scripted the same as every other text, but as Sean read, his heart raced.
I fear a future which I’ve Seen, and though I’ve followed many paths, the end seems always the same desolation. Lhynion Sidera is dead. Killed by his brother. Manae commanded vengeance but, in so doing, has ceded his freedom, for I See he soon falls to the plague and, in taking him, steals our prosperity. A great war will divide us. I See years of decline. Centuries of yielding our power to Indigo. The Great Mother, the Light, wanes under a web of deceptive tension brought by a single act of betrayal. Desperate, Luxoria will place its faith in retributive lifeblood and will covet the fated daughter of Erdéa, reborn as an offering. From here, I See many paths to follow but few in which another plague does not infect us. There are paths of war. Paths of starvation. Paths of horror. I See but one narrow path to liberty, and on it, the divine light shines, for a savior is born in the bound child of Sidera, immune to the plague and strengthened by immeasurable sacrifice. We live or die by the grace of a willing martyr.
Sean read the passage four times before any of it sank in. It read like a fever dream. A hallucination.
The plague.
Savior.
Martyr.
The words echoed in his head, meaningless and frustrating. He took a moment to breathe through his rising temper. “What does it mean?”
A long exhale served as Kywyn’s answer, and Sean assumed that was all he’d get when his father abruptly stood.
