Page 79 of The City Of Fractured Memory

I watch her as she moves with unhurried grace through the glowing undergrowth, her pale hair rippling like spun moonlight in the dim light of the forest. She leads us on a trodden path round the river, into the thicker trees, and in the distance I start to hear the rush of a waterfall. We finally emerge into another clearing, ahead of us the river widening into an enormous glittering lake, the stillness of it disturbed by the crashing of a waterfall so tall, the top of it seems to merge with the mists of the Veil.

We reach the far edge of the lake, approaching a small cabin that sits half-hidden in a curtain of vines, its porch jutting out over the water like a dock. Lanterns glow faintly along the railings, reflecting in the rippling surface below.

Amari pauses at the threshold, her hand brushing the carved doorframe as though in thought. “I don’t receive many visitors,” she murmurs. “Not anymore.”

I tilt my head, noticing how the magic that thrums through Lunoreth seems softer here, muted, like the forest itself is holding its breath.

“Why?” I ask quietly. “You’re my aunt. If I’m as famous as they claim, shouldn’t they respect you?”

A faint, bitter smile touches her lips.

“Respect, perhaps. Trust? No. Not since your mother died and you…vanished.” She gestures for us to follow her inside. “The others remember what happened. They remember the prophecy—and the silence that followed. But they were never told why you were taken. Only that you were hidden from us, from everyone.”

My stomach twists. “They blame you?”

She shrugs, settling herself on a dilapidated rocking chair at the edge of the porch as the water laps beneath. “Someone had to bear the weight of suspicion. Better me than your mother’s memory.” She looks out over the lake, her glassy eyes reflecting the blue shimmer of the vines. “I stayed here, away from the herd. Easier that way. The whispers fade when you stop giving them your ears.”

Stryx leans against one of the porch beams, her pointed ears flicking uneasily. “I still think we should’ve stayed to hear them out. The population may not know the truth, but the council does.”

“The council has its own interests and serves no one,” Amari snaps. Stryx bristles, her ears pressing tight against her head. “I don’t trust them and neither should you.”

“Remember who you are speaking to, Amari,” Stryx warns, her voice low.

Amari bows her head as she grits her teeth. “Apologies, Princess. I meant no offence. I only worry that if they get their way they’ll use Octavia, like her father did. That prophecy is nothing but trouble. Everyone interprets it differently, sometimes with catastrophic results.”

Wait a minute…Princess?

My eyes snap to Stryx’s and she withers slightly under my questioning gaze. “You’re a Princess?”

She nods sheepishly. “Both my mothers are High Shamans. To the Echofae that is the equivalent of royalty. They govern Lunoreth equally. I didn’t tell you because…” She shrugs, worry flickering through her features. “I didn’t want to be treated differently.”

I stare at her in disbelief. “You were an illegal Echofae in mortal territory, there was no way you wouldn’t have been treated differently, regardless of your lineage.”

She gives me a lopsided smile. “Yes, it sounds stupid now I say it out loud.”

I crack a smile, the first one I’ve managed since the world was pulled out from under my feet, and Stryx’s smile widens in response. “I’ll go make us some tea, give you two some time to catch up.”

She wanders inside, leaving me standing awkwardly in the middle of the porch in front of my estranged aunt. It’s so bizarre, standing here in front of the woman who has plagued my dreams for so long. A part of me still refuses to believe she’s real.

Amari taps the chair next to hers and I sit, my gaze wondering over the expanse of the lake as I desperately urge my brain to start thinking logically about my potentially dire situation. I feel her eyes on me and I finally turn to face her. She gives me a warm, encouraging smile, placing her hand over mine.

“It’s a lot to take in, isn't it?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I scoff, and we both huff a laugh. Before we can speak further, though, we are interrupted by what sounds like a muffled argument from inside the cabin. I can hear Stryx, but there’s also a male voice, one I faintly recognise within the deep recesses of my mind.

There’s someone else here?

Amari rolls her eyes, clearly unsurprised by the commotion, and I turn my head to the door, straining to hear.

“You know, not everything has to be an argument,” the man says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Go rot in the Voyd, Osiris,” Stryx moans.

“And leave you here all alone without the pleasure of my charm?”

“You’re about as charming as a cabbage.”

I whip my head back to Amari to find her holding her hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh. The door slams open and shut behind us, and a tall, muscular man slumps down into the chair opposite, running his hands through his short, white hair.