Page 39 of Essence of the Throne

I lean back, feeling the frustration churn low in my gut. “So, let me get this straight,” I drawl, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “You’re telling me I have toforgea new Accord without knowing how, and also deal with an unknown threat that’s powerful enough to destroy the realms’ balance, and subsequently the Accord that has remained perfectly intact for centuries. Sounds perfectly achievable.”

Rael’s expression remains unchanged, but there’s a frustrated glimmer in his eyes. The translator’s voice is steady as he relays Rael’s next words. “The task ahead is not easy, but you are the Silver One. The Accord chose you as its guardian for a reason.”

My gaze shifts to Caspian, who’s been unnervingly quiet throughout the conversation. His eyes are sharp, focused—taking it all in with that calculating look I’ve come to know too well. It’s the look he gets when he’s weighing the odds, trying to decide if we can survive what comes next.

“Save thechosenshit. What really makes you so certain we’re capable of this?” I ask, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.

Rael’s response is immediate, his hands moving with fervor. Is it possible that I recognize some of his gestures already? The sign for flora has become obvious, his fingers pressing together before stretching open. The translator hesitates to speak, but one look from Rael and he sighs. “The flora have spoken. They say theSerathis éna éri Aetarysare bound by more than fate—you will both succeed in this.”

A laugh escapes me, bitter and raw. “Fate? You think fate is going to help us stop whatever the fuck is ruining the realms? And why isn’t the Aether realm helping if this is so important? Where is the damn Angel?”

Caspian finally speaks, his voice low and measured. “Ariella, maybe we should listen.”

I whip around, heat coating my chest. “And what, Caspian? Just accept that we’re pawns in some ancient game that must be played by the rules, but somehow no one knows what the rules even are? That we’re supposed to fix a broken Accord we didn’t even break?” This is far more than I expected to find here—it’s overwhelming and frustrating.

He doesn’t flinch, his gaze steady. “We came here for answers, and we’re getting them. Maybe not the ones we wanted, but it’s more than we had before.” His tone softens, his hand sliding over my thigh and squeezing. “Clearly, we made the right choice coming here.”

The weight of his words presses down on me, and the air in my lungs thickens. I hate that he’s right. I hate even more that I feel it, deep in my bones—the pull of something I never asked for, something I can’t refuse. My mother referred to it in her letter, but that was so vague it could have meant anything. Why this?

A deep sigh flows through me as a finger taps against the prince’s hand. “Where do we find this Seer?”

Rael nods. “The Seer will find you when they are ready,” the translator explains. “For now, we will have housing prepared and food made for you.”

Caspian smiles. “Thank you.”

I exhale through pursed lips, the reality of everything settling over me like a suffocating cloak. “Great,” I mutter. “How many Seers are there?” The thought of too many makes me nauseous.

Rael’s gaze doesn’t waver, but he studies me for a moment before signing. “There is one Seer. Their visions do not assume a gender, and neither do they.”

I nod, relieved. “Okay. I'm done with this conversation.”

Rael motions for us to rise and step back outside; the soft, shifting light of the city seems colder.

Everything feels colder.

“Well,” Caspian says, breaking the silence as we begin to follow Rael’s lead once more, “at least we’ve got a direction now.”

“An ill-defined direction doesn’t mean much,” I retort, my voice hard.

He chuckles. “True. But it’s a start.” My fingers do not resist when his slip through and hold on to me tightly. It’s a needed comfort—something else Caspian just knows how to interpret perfectly.

I don’t respond, my mind too tangled with thoughts of the Seer, the Accord, the balance, and I’ve no doubt Thalion is behind shifting the latter. But beneath it all, a small, stubborn part of me believes we can do this. We have to. Because if not us, then who?

We move back through the winding paths of the city, my senses still alert as my mind struggles to process everything Rael has laid before us. I wanted answers, but this is absurd.

The people of the Palmluvela are more visible now—no longer hiding in the gardens. They seem curious, almost bold, as we pass. Some whisper to one another, while others offer hesitant smiles.

But it’s the look in their eyes that strikes me most. It’s not fear or suspicion. They’re not angry at my and Caspian’s presence. No, they almost look to be regarding us with grateful fondness. Reverence, even. I catch a few murmurs that sound much like those I hear in Valoria. I focus ahead, doing what I’m best at and ignoring everything around me.

“They seem to like you,” Caspian murmurs beside me, his voice quiet.

I grit my teeth, unwilling to be comforted by the misplaced faith of strangers, and shrug.

He lets out a small, amused huff. “I mean, I can relate. I had the same reaction the first time I saw you, too.”

I shoot him a sidelong glare. “If you think you’ll gain my favor with nice words, just know it’s the opposite.”

He grins, and for a moment, the weight of our future feels a fraction lighter.

---