Page 153 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

Whipping out another blank page, she listed the rest of the Fates’ names. Next to each, she drew arrows on how they related to the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration. Some were rumored to dislike her for her brazen ways, others to be infatuated with her. The myths went on.

“But what’s worth killing for?”

Tension buzzed down her spine, each passing minute ticking down as if to her own execution.

Flipping through Skies of the Fates, the book Nico had borrowed from the library recently, she built out all the possibilities, the notes pinned to her wall growing. Names of artwork that captured moments of history, tales told to children as bedtime stories, songs sung around tavern tables with liquor sticking to the floor. She wrote them all down.

All to try to find that missing piece: the purpose of the ritual.

Discouraged, Emmeline wandered to the window, looking up at the stars. Fates, she had so much she could tell them tonight. She sought out the Lotus Bloom of Hyllara, whispering everything that had happened recently. Then, she poured her wishes into the Belt of Polyr, said to be worn for luck when he traversed the skies. Finally, her fears. She gave those to Serchus’s Coin, just as her mother always taught her to do, the constellation known for granting abundance.

It wasn’t until her gaze skimmed across the brightest star of the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration’s major constellation, that singular light commonly called the Seductress, that the Snake Charmer’s parting words to Roremar came back: Remember what I said about old motives.

She’d tried to speak to the Fate of Cruelty and Adoration recently, but perhaps she needed to expand to other resources.

Scooping up a jar of poppy petals and crushed honeysuckle, Emmeline sat at her desk. Needing a more direct connection to the Fate of Prophecy and Demise, she rolled up the pressed florals and lit the end, bringing it to her lips.

She inhaled once, held the smoke, then blew it out.

The air clouded around her.

She repeated it.

The scent of poppies and honeysuckle lured her in.

And soon, she was falling through that other plane, seeking the Fate in her starfire form. The faceless body wavered before her, stars lining her frame, skin cut from galaxies.

“Metrina,” Emmeline greeted.

I wondered when you would call on me again.

“Forgive me.” She chose her words carefully, not wanting to offend the Fate. “It is difficult to connect that which falls among the bounds of prophecy with the crimes occurring on the isle.”

Did you not know that most workings on your realm are derived from prophecy?

“In a sense, yes, but not all prophecies come to life. Not every action is one foretold.” There was a difference between a prophecy written by the gods or Angels and the fortunes the Fates passed to Starsearchers. Metrina often forgot that, taking her own word as law.

In this, there is little difference. But you will learn. For now, protect the greed of illusions and heralds of secret currency.

Greed and secret currency? Emmeline tucked that idea away for later.

“I am seeking information on the murderer. Will they kill again? What is their purpose? Their end goal? If you can show me how they hope to achieve whatever it is with these rituals, perhaps I can use it to unwind their identity.”

I see all that you are destined to seek, but I am barred from relaying it.

“What? Why?” What could stop a Fate from sharing the paths carved in the future?

Because it is not yet time. Ask again, and I will be able.

“When?” She didn’t have time to spare, not if they wanted a lead before the Revels tomorrow.

You will know when. Until then, notice what you have lost, and seek it.

With a flash of what looked like crashing waves, the Fate’s form dissolved into a shining opal light, and Emmeline snapped back to her realm, seated at the desk in her office. She dumped the remains of the poppy and honeysuckle herbs in a glass ashtray, propping open the window for fresh air.

Protect the greed of illusions and heralds of secret currency.

A hint toward Serchus, the Fate of Secrets and Greed, referencing all symbols of his spectrum. Illusions, masks, merchants, and heralds. The most recent disappearance was a woman with ties to both Anphrosia and Serchus. Perhaps more clues laid with that woman.