Page 7 of From the Myths of Kings

“Wait!” Saoirse cried.

Aurelia looked at her like she was mad, but she halted midstroke. Sure enough, the second Saoirse had recognized the oasis’s enchantment, the snake vanished, revealing what was truly under the illusion. A leafy vine was loosely wrapped around Noora’s shoulders, conjured to look like a python constricting its prey. If Aurelia had brought her sword down to behead the snake, she would’ve killed Noora instead.

Noora woke with a jolt and light returned to her eyes. She brushed aside the vine easily and the plant slithered back into the tree as if it had never moved.

“Titans. What just happened?” Noora breathed, taking in Saoirse and Aurelia’s horrified expressions.

“The oasis is mounting its games, toying with us. I almost sliced you open,” Aurelia ground out. “Curse this place and its capricious magic. If Saoirse hadn’t recognized the enchantment as a lie, you’d be dead.”

Noora inhaled with a shaky breath. “We must be close to Tezrus if the oasis is multiplying its efforts.”

“How much longer will this continue? What will happen to us next? This is beginning to feel like a fruitless chase that will lead us to death.”

“The Soundless Oasis will plague you no longer,” came a reedy voice.

The three of them turned, readying for another trick of the Oasis. Saoirse lifted her sword to strike whatever entity was about to attack.

An old man stood before them, gnarled hands folded over each other. He was weaponless, wearing a simple robe the color of sand. His pale gray skin was nearly translucent and blue veins spiderwebbed along his wrists under paper-thin flesh. Shoulder-length white hair as bright as bone bleached in the sun peaked out from beneath his drawn hood. His eyes were milky and colorless, just as every Terradrin under-dwellers’ were.

“Tezrus the Scholar?” Saoirse asked, though she already knew the answer.

“You’ve been looking for me?” The old man eyed their tattered clothing, still splattered with black blood and gore. “Why have you come to this place?”

“We’re here to learn of the Myths of Old and the Titans,” Saoirse answered, her pulse quickening as she spoke. She watched for any changes in his cool demeanor as her words registered. She didn’t know how Tezrus would react. He had fled from the Order of Elders and renounced their ways under the penalty of death. He may have taken an unbreakable vow to never speak of the secrets he’d learned. Or worse, he might abandon them to the whims of the oasis, thinking they’d come at the behest of the Order, hired as assassins to finally snuff out his life after two decades of hiding. Saoirse braced herself for the worst.

He merely blinked at them, rolling his colorless lips together thoughtfully as if sifting through her words for truth.

“Revelore is crumbling,” Saoirse added. “War is sparking across the continent, and it will soon scorch everything in its path. But more pressing than mortal strife, we believe the Titans will rise again.”

This led Tezrus to pause. He cocked his head curiously at Saoirse and pinned her in place, his pale eyes seeming to see right through her.

“The Sea Witch finally escaped the Fretum as she promised, then?”

3

ROOK

The boy leaned against his mother’s soft embrace. She smelled of pine and fresh snow, with just a hint of cinnamon lingering at the edges like a warm cup of spiced tea. Outside, the night sky swept by in a blur, bright stars whirring in streaks of light as they soared through the heavens.

The boy pressed closer to his mother, feeling her hand smooth down his hair.

He fought against sleep, his lids growing heavy as he was cushioned between his mother’s arms and the plush carriage seat, the soft sway of their cabin lulling him. His father and older sister were seated across the carriage. Moonlight swathed the pair of them and caught on the strands of silver in his father’s hair. The king’s hair was once completely black, but gray now flushed against his temples and threaded through his beard.

Next to his father, the boy’s older sister stared out the window, eyes wide and full of stars. Her fingers splayed against the pane, tracing the passing constellations. She was much older than the boy, hardened into steel after enduring the Tournament two years ago. But sometimes, like now, his older sister let her guard down and she appeared younger.

The boy wondered why they were traveling at night when it would have been so much easier to stay awake during the day. He yawned and rubbed his bleary eyes. They were much closer to the ground now, he realized. A carpet of treetops unspooled below them, and a half-slice of moon beamed down on their flying carriage like a smile. The boy tried to count the stars like his sister, but they were moving too fast, and he quickly grew dizzy. He fell back against his mother’s lap and looked up at her. She was the most beautiful woman the boy had ever seen, with her long dark hair curled over one shoulder and her eyes sparkling as though she’d swallowed starlight. She looked down at him and smiled, but he noticed there were lines of worry creasing her forehead.

“Hold tight,” his mother whispered. She pulled him closer just as their carriage lurched forward. The fall of hooves pounding the earth filled his ears as the winged horses pulling their carriage landed on solid ground, wheels jostling over an uneven surface.

He sat up and pressed his face against the window, watching as tall trees whipped past them. It was much darker down here at the roots of the mountain, where moonlight couldn’t touch certain places and the sky was only half-full on the horizon. The boy had taken trips down this side of the mountain before, but previous journeys had always been preceded by a long line of carriages and soldiers flanking every window. This time, it was just the boy’s family. He couldn’t say why, but he felt afraid knowing they were completely alone.

The carriage rumbled to a stop. The boy’s father sat up, his back rigid as steel as he gazed out the window, his dark eyebrows furrowing together. The boy watched as his father made eye contact with his mother, unspoken words passing between them with just a quick glance. His mother nodded slightly. The boy hated when they did that. He wanted to know what they were secretly discussing. His parents didn’t think he noticed such small things, but he did.

In unison, the boy’s parents stood from their seats and made for the door. “We’ll return shortly,” the boy’s mother promised with one last glance over her shoulder. “Stay with your brother, Raven.”

As the carriage door opened and his parents ducked outside, a cold breeze spilled into the carriage and ruffled the boy’s hair. His mother closed the door, moving beyond the window and out of eyesight.

Hushed voices began speaking outside. The boy squinted out the window and peered into the dark woods. Another carriage had pulled up alongside them, though it was parked under a tree with long wispy branches that kept most of it hidden from view.

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