Page 71 of Daughter of the Darkened City

“I need to find a way to talk her out of it.”

“Good luck. After what she and Onora uncovered yesterday? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so determined.”

“Then I’ll have to find a way to lock her up or something.”

Cyrus laid a hand on her shoulder, halting her. “It’s her choice, Avenay.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be!” Avenay swallowed, surprised by her outburst.

Cyrus frowned in reprimand. “You can’t control everything.”

No, she couldn’t. She never could. Never had been able to. She’d watched her mother waste away from the disease, she’d watched her sister grow sicker with each coming year.

And she’d watched her own life pass her by as she stuck her nose in books, feverishly trying to find a cure.

Avenay stifled a sob. She’d spent so long wanting desperately to right the wrong of her mother being taken from them by finding a cure for Seraphina. Even though it was a fool’s errand, she’d dedicated her life to doing the only thing she could. It just so happened to have found the cure. It had been the right path. But now she couldn’t control Enid. After their conversation the other night, Avenay was convinced she couldn’t say anything to deter Enid. But the thought of it lanced through Avenay with agony.

“You and Enid are very close now,” Cyrus said softly.

“Yes,” Avenay breathed.

“You haven’t known her very long.”

“And yet…” She let her voice trail off.

“And yet there’s something between the two of you that is eternal in nature, isn’t there?”

Eternal. The puzzle pieces clicked into place at his words. She glowered at him. “Damn you and your keen sight.”

He chuckled. “A mate is rare for seraphs.”

“Not for demons, though.”

He shrugged. “I hear it can be quite maddening.”

She looked at him, her eyes swimming now. “I can’t bear the thought of losing Seraphina. And I equally can’t bear the thought of Enid dying.”

Cyrus wiped the tear off her cheek, then pulled her into his arms. “Have faith, Avie. Enid is strong. And she’s cheated death multiple times in her life already.”

“Won’t that make death come for her stronger, then?”

Cyrus gave a breathy chuckle. “If I were death, I would know it was time to fold and go home.”

Avenay laughed into his chest. “Thank you for that.”

“Talk to her about it.”

She nodded. “I will.”

She looked forward to the temple. Not before she got some answers, though.

Avenay settled into the library, her books laid out as she pored over them. She became wholly lost in it. IfThe Tales of Lemiahad gotten them to Evolis, what else could they tell her about the ritual? She began reading when Lemia was in the temple by the magic well.

A witch took Lemia’s hand, ready to channel the power through her. In defiance of the dark ones, she stood with Lemia to banishTethonand save the world from that dark power. So Lemia plunged her swordinto the cleft in the rock, the swirling source of magic for this land, feeling it like a physical force flowing around the metal, around her, pressing against the resistance. Then she began the rite, reciting the ancient words of the priests and priestesses, letting her power flow out, combining with the power harvesting spell that the woman muttered.

Avenay stopped reading, turning to her notes on the grimoire and sifting through it. There it was. She’d written down power harvesting for the spell in the grimoire. Had the ancient witches burned this in hopes that the people here would never be able to leave again? Did the witches know about this?

When she looked up, it was late, terribly so. But still the satyr from before sat at the desk, staring at her, then quickly looking away. Avenay frowned, standing and marching towards her.

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