Page 100 of The City Of Fractured Memory

I pinch myself, hard.

Nope still here. That’s unfortunate.

Guess I have to face my stupid fate and fulfil this stupid prophecy then. I sigh heavily. I really need some sleep before I continue spiraling any further. But I can’t yet, not until I’ve done what I need to do.

I move through the shadowed streets of Eidravelle with my hood pulled low, each step quieter than the last. I keep glancing over my shoulder, half expecting Riven to appear out of thin air and drag me back home by the elbow.

They will kill you…

His voice, rough with frustration and fear, echoes in my head with every step I take toward the Memosyne. But I keep going. I have to.

The gates of the citadel rise ahead, the spire of the cathedral currently swallowed by the descending dark mists of the Veil. The air hums around it, volatile, and the hairs on my arms stand on end as electricity sparks through the clouds surrounding the gold-tipped spire. There’s another storm coming.

I slow, my breath misting in the cold, rubbing my damp palms against my cloak. I hate that it’s working—Riven’s warnings, his certainty that walking into the council could be a death sentence. I’ve always been a ‘march forward, deal with the consequences later’ sort of person, but since discovering that the fate of this city now apparently hangs in the balance of my decisions, I find his concern rooting itself in my chest, feeling indistinguishable from my own.

I never asked for any of this.

Half Echofae, half mortal. Illegal. A prophecy I never asked for. A destiny that could potentially be world-ending…then my thoughts once again turn back to Riven, his hands catching me in the dark, the heat of his breath against my ear, the way my heart leapt and crashed at the same time…

I grip the front of my cloak tighter.

“Get it together,” I mutter under my breath.

But my throat feels tight, and my breaths come quick and shallow. The closer I get to the gates, the more every thought claws over the next, a rising tide I can’t push back–

My Shadow appears and my knees nearly buckle.

I grab the stone wall beside me, fingers trembling as the street spins. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ground myself, but the fear keeps building, sharp and breathless.

“Go away,” I whisper, but the words come out thin. I swallow hard and open my eyes. He’s still there in my periphery as always, never quite in view, but I feel him watching me closer now, like he knows I’ve figured out who he is. No voice enters my mind this time, however, no commands I have no choice but to bow to. He stays silent, watching, like he wants me to carry on with my plan.

That’s not concerning at all.

The gates tower before me, gleaming like a promise and a threat all at once.

“This is the only way,” I tell myself, trying to ignore the foreboding weighing heavily on my shoulders. Maybe Riven was right, maybe this is all a trap. But if I don’t do this, we won’t find the Codex, and that could be even worse. More people will die. The prophecy is inconsequential compared to that.

My legs still tremble, but I force one step forward, doing my best to ignore my Shadow. Then I take another.

The guards straighten as I approach. Their eyes track me, not hostile, but assessing. Could they be part of this cult too? How many people are tied to this conspiracy? Overnight, everyone in this city has suddenly become a threat.

I inhale deeply, trying to steady the pressure closing in around my chest, and Amari’s words flit through my mind.

It doesn’t hurt to be the most powerful person in the room.

She’s right. I don’t need protection.

I’m Octavia Wren, the city’s best detective. I’ve battled against the odds, clawed my way through life on my own and got to where I am now by fighting for everything I have, and I’m not about to stop now. Stubborn determination consumes me, renewing my motivation, but as I approach the guards to request entry, my heartbeat is still a frantic, thunderous drum in my ears. I’ve made my choice, and there’s no turning back now.

The doors to the council chamber stand ajar, frantic whispering hissing through the crack. I told the guards at the gates of my intentions to receive an audience—no doubt they relayed the message to the council ahead of my arrival.

I guess it’s now or never.

My determination falters for a brief moment, and for the first time since discovering my magic, I feel utterly, terrifyingly mortal. But I straighten my shoulders and shove away the insecurities that threaten to stall my feet. People are counting on me.

The great golden doors of the Council Chamber slam behind me as I enter, the sound echoing through the domed hall like a warning bell. I step across the threshold before I can talk myself out of it.

Instant silence.