Page 136 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

We charged down the sleek hall, passing even more empty cells. Deactivated wards, the color of coal, were etched into the floor outside of each one. I didn’t see any guards. It seemed they must have taken what they could and ran.

“I can feel you, ancient one,” a voice called from further down the hall.

I turned to Orym to see if he had heard it, too. His brow rose, and he slid a blade out of its sheath. I reached for the one on my thigh and nodded, leading the way down the hall.

“A mighty beast has returned from the land of the dead and will leave thunder and ash in its wake, but this beast feels . . . different. Wrong.”

I glanced at Orym, but he just shrugged. Neither of us understood what was going on.

“Ah, I see now. The old blood runs through you.”

My lips curled at the sight before us. A pale woman was chained to the wall. She wore robes tied around her in several layers, her hair a tangled mess, but it was her eyes that made me pause. Or lack thereof. There were healed scratches and scars around the raw, hollow sockets, and I wondered if she had clawed them out herself. As Orym and I stopped in front of the cell, her head whipped toward me.

“The old ones have returned to the plane of gods, but you . . .”

“What is she?” I asked Orym.

“An oracle, but I thought the last of them had died when Nismera took the throne,” Orym said grimly.

“The others are gone.” She choked on a disembodied sob that seemed to echo within the room. “Everything will be gone. All is lost. From one, all will rise.”

“Okay.” I shook my head. “She’s batshit crazy. Let’s go. We have a mystery woman and an ancient sword to catch.”

“You,” she spat at me. “You are empty.”

“Excuse me?”

Her body swayed as she bent around her chains. A smile curved her lips, her teeth dark, uneven, and cracked as if she chewed on bones.

Orym grabbed my arm. “Ignore her. The madness has set in.”

“Madness?”

“Their power is unstable like Roccurem’s or the other fates’. If they try to see too far, it can rip their brain apart. It seems they used her for just that until nothing was left.”

“Why?” I asked, looking at her as she laughed and sobbed on the floor.

“Gods have tried to collect fates for eons. Samkiel’s father was the only one who could until Nismera. But others wanted glimpses into their futures, so they took and used oracles for their own selfish purposes until none were left.”

My lip curled. “That’s terrible.”

“This world has been for a very long time,” Orym said as the oracle sobbed. “Let’s go.”

We turned to leave, and in a surprising surge of energy, she jumped to her feet, the chains groaning.

“An empty, empty shell,” the oracle barked and laughed, slumping in the chains. “Hollow. Void.”

I took a step back. “Okay, well, this was lovely. We’re going to leave now and let you ramble on.” I turned toward Orym, mouthing the words, What’s her deal?

“Come on.” Orym nudged.

“I wouldn’t follow her, headless boy, or you’ll have a twin to match.” She laughed, the sound a sick, wet thing.

Orym froze. “What did you say?”

The oracle pulled on her chains. “You’re both fools to think you can stop what’s coming. Fools to think you’ll make a difference. Chaos wants this world again, and chaos will have it.”

“I prefer Reggie’s ramblings over yours, just to be clear.”

---