Page 56 of The Reaping Rose

In Quietus, creatures have begun surfacing from the depths of the Calliasyne Sea.

Elorie is right that the orb must be dealt with, whether or not we have the resources. Which is why I spend day and night studying books in the library. Scouring the scribbles of the oldest archives, trying to understand how the first Arches were put in place. Looking for a way for us to travel between realms now that there’s a possibility there might be something that can tame the power within Malachi’s orb somewhere outside our current reach.

If Perame can find the void, we’ll need a way to get to it. Either by waking one of the dead Arches or by growing an entirely new one. Opening one at Elorie’s mother’s sword gives me hope it can be done, but without the sword here, I need to find a way to recreate it using something else.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” Elorie rests her hip against the table, glancing at the book in my hand.

Daggers hang at her hips. She’s fully adorned in leather, more fit to be training with Greer than wandering the library. Her hair is tied back in a braid at each temple.

“Hiding would imply no one knows where I am.”

She hums, circling the table and taking a seat. “You brought Emual’s journals.”

“They seemed the most useful, and I wasn’t sure we’d be able to go back, so I packed them just in case.”

Elorie’s frown deepens as she flips open one of the covers. “Have you found anything?”

“Nothing beyond what we already read. His later journals are barely legible. The ramblings of a Fae slowly losing his mind to the voices of the island.”

“What voices?” She sits straighter.

Digging through the pile of worn leather-bound books, I pull out one of Emual’s last journals and open it to that entry. “He swore he heard the island whispering. Corresponding Fae records show he wasn’t the only one. Some blamed it on travel in and out of the prison—said it was disturbing whatever spirits lingered there. But they never figured it out. After Emual died, there are no more records of the song they heard. They said it went quiet.”

“The song.” Color drains from her cheeks.

When Elorie was younger, she sometimes mentioned things about the island no human should have known. Her father worried she was close to discovering her Fae heritage, so he tried to distract her and keep her as far from the prison as possible. That was why he fought against her helping with the burning. He knew she heard something and worried what it might mean if the Guard found out.

“You heard it?”

Elorie nods. “I heard the song a few times over the years, but it wasn’t until I was in the prison this last time that I realized where it came from. Or who it came from. It was my mother’s voice. I don’t understand why Emual would have heard her though.”

“Me either. We don’t know much about Idunn, and there’s no mention of her being brought to the prison. I can’t find a record of how old she is.”

It’s unsettling, especially considering she mentioned wielding the orb before Malachi did, and that she’s yet to succumb to the Beating. How much more do we not know about the female who brought Elorie into our realm?

“There isn’t much else in the journals, but I’ll keep looking,” I assure her. “Unfortunately, there’s also little on Arches we don’t already know either.”

All these books. Nearly a mountain filled with them, and they all say the same thing: an Arch requires a seed to root magic and connect two places.

“I know you’ll figure it out,” Elorie says, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Are you training with Greer today?” My gaze moves to her daggers.

“I thought about it.” She flexes her hand in front of her. “My magic feels different here. Stronger, somehow. We were told Vaelier was in worse condition than Lyrichia, but I feel it everywhere. This living, breathing realm.”

“It is different here. Malachi wanted us to think Lyrichia was stronger than it was. Being here proves how deep his lie went. I should have known it was all an illusion.”

“You couldn’t have, Callum. Not with whatever he was wielding. The orb masked the truth.”

“The signs were there. The state of Rohldova. The young Fae struggling to reach their age of immortality… it was clear something wasn’t right. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

Elorie frowns. “We’ll fix it. There has to be a way.”

“To save them both?” I raise a skeptical brow.

“You think I’m overreaching too?”

“I think if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be the girl I know.” I smirk, and it draws out a smile that lights her eyes. “What does Wilder think of that?”