Page 42 of Essence of the Throne

What in the fucking Aether was that?

Caelum.His bloodied form still lingers in my mind, the haunting image too vivid to shake. Who was that? I force a brittle exhale as I try to ground myself in the present.

My surroundings come into focus slower than I'm comfortable with—the dim glow of embers in the fire pit, the fresh scent of the growing herbs lingering in the cool air. I’m in the room Rael provided. The fabric is soft but foreign, and for a moment, I feel unsteady, unsure of where the vision ends and reality begins.

I’ve never felt so terrified as I did moments ago.

I turn my head, finding a pair of dark eyes already fixed on me. Rael sits in front of the bed, his expression one of eerie calm, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. His long, dark hair flows over the shoulders of his black robe, severe against the gold marking his skin. But it’s his eyes that keep catching me. They seem to shift—what was a deep brown not a moment ago is now golden and inquisitive.

My attention darts to Caspian as he stirs, his muscles tense, having placed himself at the edge of the bed between Rael and me.

“Rael,” I rasp, my voice weaker than I’d like, as if I haven’t consumed water in days. “You knew. Did the Seer warn you of this? Is that why you were so eager to escort us to this room?”

Rael's head tilts, his gaze steady as his translator steps forward, speaking his leader's words with practiced ease. “Yes, the Seer informed me of the vision you were to have shortly after arriving.” The translator’s voice is low but assured. There’s no surprise, only curiosity and expectation.

I swallow hard, my throat painfully dry. “Why didn't you tell me.” It’s not a question; more an accusation. My chest tightens as I fight the urge to lash out, to demand answers I can’t even form into words yet.

Rael nods once, still watching me with an unwavering gaze as the translator continues. “Not a choice of mine, Serathis. the Seer believed your ignorance was necessary.”

The weight of those words settles over me, and I loathe their suffocating presence. Who does he think he is? “I felteverything,” I growl, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them.

Rael’s eyes soften, but there’s no comfort to find in his gaze. The translator speaks again. “It is not over, Serathis. The vision was necessary for you to understand the gravity of what has yet to be revealed.” Rael stands, his robe brushing the floor as he pivots toward the door, not looking back. The translator repeats his next word without pause, “Come.”

I push from the bed and snatch a water pack, eyes rolling as I down the contents too quickly, coughing. Caspian gestures for me to follow, and we walk down from the room, almost losing Rael as he disappears around a structure. We catch up, and I shake out my hands, feeling jittery and on edge.

The prince leans in, keeping his voice low. “Are you okay? I tried to wake you when he showed up, but he was adamant that I not interrupt whatever you were experiencing.”

I nod, though whether it’s to his question or statement, I’m unsure. I bite the inside of my cheek as we pass through the cityonce more. The sun has begun setting, meaning I was asleep for at least a few hours.

It felt like days inside that dream—no, vision.

The temple isn’t what I expect. Instead of descending underground, we climb higher into the ancient trees. Their massive trunks twist together, forming natural pathways that spiral upward. The bark beneath my fingers thrums with energy—essence woven so deeply into the living wood that it feels like touching a raw nerve. It seems different to me now, after the vision. More alive.

Rael guides us through the winding path, his movements fluid and precise. At the entrance to what appears to be a tunnel formed by intertwined branches, he signals for his people to remain behind, aside from the translator. Caspian and I follow.

He holds up a hand, asking us to wait while he fetches the Seer. But before he can leave, a chuckle of air bursts from his chest as a figure emerges from the shadows.

My breath catches. The being before us is striking—tall and otherworldly, with features too perfect to be human. Their white hair cascades like liquid moonlight, but it’s their eyes that hold me. Where eyes should be, there are empty sockets that somehow still seem to see everything.

“Not of this world, indeed,” they say, responding to my unspoken thought.

My hand twitches toward my blade, but before I can reach it, they’re beside me, fingers brushing my arm. “That won’t be necessary, Ariella.” Their touch lingers for a moment before theydraw something from within their robes—a blade unlike any I’ve seen before. The hilt gleams a soft gold, as though it emits its own light, with intricate patterns etched deep into the metal, winding toward a rounded edge. A deep-purple stone sits at the center, seeming to absorb every bit of light and energy grazing its surface. The blade itself is black—an interesting change from the silver metal I'm accustomed to—and I now wish for all of my blades to be made in the same manner. It's beautiful. The Seer offers it to me with both hands, reverence in their motion. The silver coating their fingernails is a curious choice.

"You will need this. Keep it with you and ensure it does not reach the wrong hands."

I hesitate, my hand hovering over the blade. It hums faintly, its energy alive and curious. "What purpose will it serve?"

The Seer tilts their head, the empty sockets of their gaze unreadable. "Even I cannot see all paths clearly. Take it."

The weight of the blade in my palm feels heavier than it should, as if it carries more than its physical mass. Something twists inside me, that incessant need to ask more questions until I know everything. But I hold back, nodding as the blade slips into my sheath.

Rael’s hands move in explanation. “This is Eris, a Seer who left the Aether. They removed their own eyes to see more clearly after a vision led them here.”

“Ah, yes, but they were nothing but a distraction. They kept me from truly seeing what needed to be perceived. I’ve lived this moment hundreds of times,” Eris says, their voice like wind throughcrystal. “I’ve waited so long, knowing you would come, but not when. What happened to your parents changed everything—the entire fate of the Accord.”

My throat tightens. “What do you mean?”

“The Accord is broken,” they say, each word heavy with meaning. “The artifacts that maintained it were stolen, weakening its ties to the Ephemeral realm, leaving it open for abuse. And abused, someone has. They are actively destabilizing it. The Accord lives by using recycled essence to hold the realms together, but it’s failing. Your mother, and others from the Aether, sacrificed themselves over the years to buy time when the Accord found itself lacking essence from that realm—time you shouldn’t have needed if your father hadn’t died. He was fated to guide you through this when you were of age.”

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