Page 147 of The Shadowed Oracle
Arryn kept on, the whites of his eyes now fully black. “She’s here! She’s here! She’s here! She’s here! SHE IS HERE!”
Ripples of lapping water came from just over the edge of the ship. None of the world-walkers moved, spoke, or evenremembered to take a breath as the Hydra speared up from the ocean. All three sets of the monster’s teeth bared, and its six green eyes unblinking, beaming down that same sentient, assessing look Ingrid would never forget.
“She’s here,” Arryn chanted. “She’s here. My Enitha.”
The electric green irises hooked onto Ingrid, begging her to figure it out, willing her to understand who she was looking at.
“She’s here!”
Chapter Forty-Four
The visions had beensharp cuts into Ingrid’s psyche up to that moment. The emotions and hopes and dreams and memories of others were forced upon her in unwanted surges, striking her like physical blows.
But this…
This vision was different, controlled, almostofferingitself to her.
In the fraction of a second it took her to realize it was whirling toward her, she’d recognized it, welcomed it, then snatched it from the air.
And like slipping into a warm bath, Queen Enitha’s memories began to wash over her.
She saw a full moon in the sky, illuminating a young female sitting on a dock. The girl seemed comfortable, spent most nights right there, alone but not lonely. She did not get lonely, not in the traditional sense of the word. She was obsessive, full of desire and passion, but she was not whole enough to experience true longing. For something had broken in her, snapped and shattered to pieces in a time long ago, in a kingdom far away, before she’d even reached her fifth year.
That was when it all changed.
Ingrid’s visions took her across the beautiful world of Ealis, over rolling hills and lush forests and sparkling lakes, curiously ending up on yet another dock. This one was larger and far more populated. Even on this cold and late night, soldiers were scattered everywhere. And in the middle of them, stood Enitha, so young and innocent that she was almost unrecognizable.
The vision pushed Ingrid closer. She saw Enitha’s small, pale hand stretch out, reaching toward someone for help. She saw Enitha cry and kick and scream as she was loaded onto a war vessel full of those armored guards.
And then Ingrid saw who Enitha was calling out to.
He was a dark-featured man with onyx, soulless eyes. His long grey hair fanned out over his cloak as he turned. With how pitiful Enitha’s cries were, even Ingrid thought he would glance back. Just one final look before his daughter was gone forever.
But the man didn’t so much as slow his pace as he travelled back down the long road to his castle. And back to his throne. His magic. His army. His power, in that legendary city carved into the mountains.
It was Makkar.
Enitha’s father… was Makkar. Estranged, but not forgotten. The pain he’d caused her—it was what drove her to seek dominion of her own. To prove to her father that she would not be a burden. That her power would be an asset, and not a liability. That after all, itwaspower, and not a curse. Not a blemish on his name, or a blight that frightened his council members and his peers—back when Makkar was an inexperienced ruler himself, and still had to worry about such trivial things as appearances.
That curse. The reason she was sent away from her family and placed in a loveless home in the Isles. That burden she bore. She’d turned it into her greatest strength. It was how she’dsingle-handedly cut off the great kingdom of Maradenn’s trade routes to Iberium.
The Hydra. Enitha didn’t control it. Shewasthe beast before them. Another form, another body. That was her true power, her gift and her curse. The one she’d been born with. So entwined with who she was, who she’d always been, that no poison or spell could rid her of it, even temporarily.
The monster before them—it was Enitha.
She was the last obstacle keeping them from freedom.
The visions slowly faded. Enitha’s past gave way to Ingrid’s present. Her surroundings became clear again, but moving in extreme slow motion. Dean, Raidinn, Lucilla and Tyla were running toward her, their arms outstretched, their hair frozen in mid-air, and their lips stretched so wide with screams it looked painful.
Time had changed for everyone and everything around her. She’d had signs of this rift in space when her vision of Francesca surfaced, but she’d ignored them. The ability to slow time itself never even occurred to her. Dean hadn’t mentioned Karis possessing anything of the sort, and she hadn’t read anything like it in her books.
No, this was something else, some defense mechanism, protecting her when she was seized by her gift—not a branch of her abilities, but a symptom of her magic awakening.
Because itwasawakening.
Before that vision she had welcomed in could leave, she’d reached out a mental hand and gripped the magic it rode in on, gently caressing it. Offering herself up to it, just like the visionhad invited her. Not demanding or angrily grasping at it. Simply welcoming it, and hoping it would accept.
“Get back!”
