Page 165 of Fallacies

I glance over my shoulder, in the direction Salem had stalked into. It’s too dark at the end of the aisle to see him, but I know he’s there.

“What is it?” Grey asks.

I turn back to him, exhaling a breath as I shake my head. “Nothing.” My shoulders fall. “Keep going.”

He looks almost sympathetic, his black, peppered-grey brows dipped and his stare soft.

Grey readjusts his hands against the bars before he continues, “Esme worked alongside the Nyrith and some other Diviners in their efforts to find a cure. Other than a few ancient texts and a few cryptic things Etis said shortly before she was taken, they didn’t have much to go on, but Esme had a theory.”

My heart begins to pound.

I’m eager to know, but just as afraid to find out. All I’ve ever wanted was answers, and now it’s like they’re barreling towards me too fast. What if I’m not ready to hear them? Does it really matter whether I’m ready or not?

Something about the condolence in Grey’s stare makes me think it doesn’t.

“The curse against the Disciples is an infection of poisoned magic. It began eating away at their souls, trapping them in a prison of their own mind, and with them being immortal…it’s continued to do so ever since. It’s a fate worse than death—to be tortured with an illness that would never be strong enough to kill you.”

The image of a dark tomb flashes before my eyes. I can only imagine what’s become of the Disciples now, fifty years later.

Grey shudders as if he’s imagining it too. “But Esme believed that it wasn’t so much breaking the curse as it was extracting the curse.”

“Like…removing an infection?”

The former Captain shakes his head. “Like exorcizing a demon.”

And there goes my heart again, pounding at my ribcage so violently I fear it might burst.

“Esme believed that the Disciple’s souls are lost, and they just need someone to show them the way out. Someone to find them in the dark and bring them back to the light. She believed that to do that, this theoretical someone would need access to⁠—”

“Fuck,” I curse.

“Both.”

My head falls.

I wish he hadn’t said it. I wish he could take it back. And selfishly, I wish Esme had been wrong because if what he’s saying is true, then I was created to solve a problem. My existence is a means to an end and nothing more.

“Lucina.” He reaches through the bars for my hand. “Are you okay?”

Lifting my head, I blink back at him, opening my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“It was Esme’s idea to merge their bloodlines,” he tells me. “You were a hope for us long before you’d even taken your first breath. What you’ve been created for is an honor⁠—”

“I was born here?” The revelation takes over my entire being.

Grey nods. “Kage kept you hidden in old servant tunnels your mother told him about. They had to keep you here until he could find a safe way to get you and Esme out.” His gaze softens. “You were only a few months old when she took you.”

Gods.

The room I found while exploring the tunnels—the mat on the floor, the rocking chair in the corner…

It had been mine. My room.

The nightmares I had this summer…the memories my father was showing me of some place dark and cold and loud with coughing. The sound of quick footsteps and his urgent pleas to hurry and to stay quiet. They were memories of the dungeons. Of my father getting us out.

“The plan was for Esme to take you and find our people—whoever had survived the attack. And once she found somewhere safe for you, and for all of us, she and Kage were going to get us out.” Grey’s eyes glaze over as if he’s recalling that plan. A plan that clearly didn’t work out the way they’d intended. “But she…”

I exhale the tight breath in my chest, leaning most of my weight against the bars. “She never came back.”