Page 210 of The Sins of Silas

LENA

My limbs were trembling as I watched Silas wander off into the Sanctuary, a look of utter defeat etched on his face.

I had never been more bewildered in my life.

I love you so damn much.

What the hell was he talking about? Had our minuscule interactions made him desire me?

My heart sped up at the thought of his proximity just moments ago. He was a handsome man; there was no doubt about that. So much so that I was surprised I wasn't attracted to him when we were younger.

“Lena, you need to see this.”

His smoky tone unnerved me. Why had I not noticed how pleasant his voice was?

Ambling into the sanctuary, I first let out a breath at its beauty and the pleasant breeze that blew through the openedwindows. The mid-day sun filtered through, and rows of benches were placed on either side of a walkway that led up to a pedestal. But when observing the large walls surrounding the massive window behind said pedestal, I realized what it was Silas wanted me to see.

Sprinting forward, running my hands along the concrete, I studied the symbols etched into the wall.

Not just any symbols. It was the Titharan language.

I fetched outPotestas Verae Maleficis,hoping to translate.Getting on my knees, I beganscribbling my chalk on the ground.

“Rebirth and Purification will fuse, thus creating the first-everRealm Travelers,”Silas read out loud after I completed the first sentence. “You said Oquerene was a different realm, yes?”

“Correct, but…” My eyes frantically darted up and down fromPotestas Verae Maleficisto the wall, back to my shaking hand. It took a few minutes, but I finished writing out the words.

An Azraeian portal will no longer be the only way. Not two Gods, but two Travelers. They will ensure Deceit's containment.

That dark feeling rushed over me just as a voice boomed, “There's a rift.”

I jolted, the chalk flying from my hand. Silas and I whirled around, his sword drawn and my fire flaring as we caught Vicsin sauntering forward, tilting his head as he examined us.

“Learning more about the prophecy, I see,” his mixed voice noted.

I lifted my chin. “The Lord of the Shadows, I presume?” I asked sweetly. “You left quite a mess downstairs.”

His grin grew, my pulse quickening at his vulgar appearance. I would never grow used to those dark eyes, the inky veins swirlingaround his lifeless skin, or that symbol etched onto his forehead. “Oh, you have no idea.”

I stood, my flame still creeping up my limbs. “What do you mean ‘a rift’?”

He tilted his head further, cracking his neck with his hand. “Death's sin did more than just initiate the creation of new Gods,” he answered, his voice blending with Vicsin's. “But with the potential fusing of Rebirth and Purification, we risk the creation of the Travelers. There has already been a disruption in our dimension's rift from Azrae, focusing his energy on keeping the Gods away. Less energy being put toward keeping the rift closed has caused our world to be tainted—not just realms within our dimension, but others.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Silas asked lowly. “What makes you believe such things?”

Vicsin released a grating laugh. “Isn't it obvious? There are so many ways our society is advanced, yet there are so many ways we are behind.” He strolled forward, hands going behind his back as he stepped around us, moving toward the engravings, chuckling at my translation on the floor. “We have drinks and foods and activities, even clothes and music, that have bled through the rift.”

I snorted, replying sarcastically. “What, lacy panties are getting thrown in from the other side?”

The necromancer did not appreciate my humor. “More like the ideas are being planted in our heads—ideas superseding the standard order of evolution. But, occasionally, yes. Something from another dimension finds its way here.” He lifted something out of his jacket pocket, raising a brow at me. “Drop this, and I kill one of your friends.”

My stomach sank as he chucked something at me. Catching it against my chest, I stared down at the rectangle in my hands.

Lifting it away, I released a gasp when the front of it lit up.

It was a picture of some sort—something captured in time. A woman with golden hair and haunted hazel eyes sat, and in her arms were a young boy and a girl—her children, it seemed. All had rounded ears.

Their clothes were different than what we wore. Blander.

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