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Auria nodded. “Let’s go.”
Throughout their hurried walk, Demos felt vibrations, heard booms, and at one point lost his footing from a residual blast that rocked the floor.
“What is that?” he asked.
Auria, her head swinging around briefly to answer him, raised an eyebrow. “The Ongahri have brought the weapon. Liriel is wrestling it from their hands.”
Dear gods. “How?” Mother help us.
Auria shrugged. “It’s part of the plan.”
“An abomination, that weapon,” Esta muttered beside him.
“I hope you all know what you’re doing,” Demos said, shaking his head as they turned into another hall. It was then Demos realized they were heading up, not down to the dungeons. “This is not the way, Auria.”
“Phobius will keep her safe.”
“Wait.” He stopped in his tracks and grabbed her arm. Her skin was as hot as a blacksmith’s anvil. “Where are we going, then?”
“To rescue the Supreme, of course.”
“What?”
“Cae—” She stopped herself before she uttered Demos’ father’s name. “He has the Supreme locked in Elusian irons, Demos. Among other things. Haven’t you been wondering where everyone is?”
He had, but finding Sierra had taken over every bit of his thoughts.
“Fine. We’ll help him, but if it takes too long, I’m going to find Sierra.”
The Supreme was up in the tower. With two elementals, opening the door was a work of a moment. Inside, the body of poor Nevilah was malnourished, unwashed. Demos thought for sure, upon seeing him, that he was dead, that they were way too late. But Esta was squatting over him now, holding the Supreme’s frail face in her hands, whispering words.
The Supremes’ paper-thin skin plumped, his ashen cheeks rosy once more. Auria motioned to Demos, and together they freed the iron cuffs, carefully, once Auria and covered them over with green foliage, lest they touch it with their bare hands. Elusian iron was powerful. There was no doubt now that Cael really was here.
Freed at last, the Supreme looked at Demos, who knew that, to the old man, Auria and Esta weren’t even there. “Servant… Demos? Where-why—”
“The Basilica has been breached, Supreme.” He didn’t know how much or for how long the Supreme had been in his father’s thrall.
“I see. That man… I knew he was up to something. He came here several months ago. I—I’m afraid I haven’t been well, Servant. I let him take control, and now…” The Supreme, even though he looked worlds better than he had moments ago, was still elderly—frail, slow in his movements. But his mind still honed a sharpness that spoke of why he had deserved that coveted title of Supreme. He shook his head and looked at Demos, forlorn, sad.
“Seems the Order has turned darker than I had thought. First, I find out about Prius… I promise you, that is something the Owl would never do.” He sighed, and it was a resigned sound, a turning of the page at the end of a long epic. “I—I thank you, Servant. Find him. I’ll search for the others.”
“Do you know where they are?”
Supreme Nevilah shook himself, brushing absently at his dark robes. “I do. Go on, child. And be careful. He’s… he’s not right.” Green eyes penetrating Demos, almost daring him to not believe.
“No, he sure isn’t, Supreme.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sierra
All my life, I’d wanted to see the Basilica, had it not housed Servants. I’d heard stories, of course, of its majesty. Seeing it in person, from outside and in, was nothing compared to hearsay and first-accounts. My first thought when I entered was the reassurance that my vision of being here, finding Boriel in the dungeons, was true. This was meant to happen, me being here.
I followed Phobius, the borrowed robes around me swishing at my feet. We moved like a blur of wind, winding through halls, up and down hidden stairways. I’d prepared myself for this event since that night Phobius had come into my tent and told me his plan, that we would separate from the group this morning, that he’d have it all concealed from my mates.
I hated having to keep it from them, but I knew they’d never agree to me doing this. My being here had to happen, I just wasn’t sure what part I’d play, nor what in the gods I was supposed to do.
“Not far now,” Phobius whispered, turning his head briefly to look at me over his shoulder.
