Page 99 of Memory of Ashes

“These are fae,” he said. “God-cursed.” He looked at Casyl.

Eleandor was slowly nodding to himself as if all of this made sense.

She rose, holding the skull, and turned to Eleandor, presenting it to him. The Wise One drew a sharp breath and reached for it, as though it were a great gift. The moment the skull reached his hands, he threw his head back and sank to his knees. His eyes rolled back, exposing the whites. A wordless cry escaped his mouth.

Amelia watched in horror as no one moved.

“Should we do something?” she whispered to Casyl.

He absently shook his head, eyes never leaving Eleandor.

The air buzzed with energy that emanated from the sage as he went into a trance. His knuckles whitened as he clutched the skull. The mineral veins around them lit up, flickering until their glow became blinding.

Suddenly Eleandor slumped forward and threw out his hands to catch himself. The skull fell from his grasp and rolled onto the floor of the cave. She cringed as the sound of bone hitting rock echoed.

His eyes returned to normal but remained wide as the colour drained from his face. “It cannot be,” he whispered, his brows knitting together as he looked down at the skull.

“What do you see?” Elthar asked.

“What happened to the bodies?” Casyl knelt beside him.

“I see humans and fae together… fighting. Humans with the crystal…fae killing fae.”

“You can see that?” Amelia asked.

“Some things still hold memory… if you know how to listen. I only see fragments—it is often left to me to interpret them. Some of these memories are older than me.” He glanced at Casyl, his attention settling on the antlers curving from his head. “We were supposed to be guardians of this world, to protect it. These mines were ours, not theirs. It was our greed for power.”

The mystery of the ancient civilisation had plagued her. Were the bodies in the mine victims of the weapon that the humans had created?

“We wanted your power,” Amelia said. “It makes sense, and when it didn’t work the same for us… we found another use for it.”

He nodded, his jaw clenched.

“Then why don’t we remember it?” she asked. “There’s nothing recorded in our history that mentions this.”

“This happened thousands of years ago, before your kingdoms and most of your written histories,” Eleandor said. “Even fae memories fade, and few of us live long enough to remember that age. Whatever records survived were lost, buried or deliberately forgotten. I see death. Our death. We don’t belong in this world anymore.”

Silence filled the cavern.

“This world no longer recognises us as part of it,” the sage said.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “And yet…” Eleandor whispered. His gaze drifted to Amelia.

“The prophecy… Tiryn believed it, despite dismissing most of the holy lore.”

“What prophecy?” Casyl spat. Amelia knew his thoughts on the priests and religion.

“A foretelling that someone would come, a person who would unite us, a descendant of both bloodlines.”

“Both bloodlines?” she asked.

“We have always believed it meant fae and God-cursed,” Elthar said immediately.

“Prophecies are rarely generous enough to explain themselves.”

Amelia frowned.

The Wise One studied her for a moment too long.