Page 99 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Right. Sorry.” Ingrid’s voice was stilted now, shy. “Go on.”
“Karis was born in Hydor about a billion years ago,” Tyla repeated, sticking her tongue out. “It was a small village just outside the city, with this great view of the kingdom. Those spooky spires jutting into the clouds, those thrashing waterfalls pouring from the stone walls. Karis told me he’d grown up looking up at the castle every night, asking his grandfather if he could see the inside one day.”
Tyla paused, deepening her voice. “That’s entirely up to you, his grandpa always said. But don’t ask me about his grandpa because that’s all I know. He raised Karis. And then Karis left home when he was sixteen.”
“He was an orphan?” Ingrid asked. If she hadn’t read about Izadora’s picturesque upbringing on that farm, she might’ve thought all Oracles were damned with absentee or unable parents. “And still he never told Dean he was his father?”
“Don’t get me started on that.” Tyla waved her hand, shaking her head. “It’ll never make sense to me. Karis was the most selfless person I’ve ever met. Yet, when it came to Dean and Gianna, he was a real shithead.”
“Hey!” Ingird pointed at her accusingly, as if catching her breaking a rule in a game they’d been playing. “Shithead. Viator don’t say that, do they?”
“No,” Tyla admitted. “But so what? You want a trophy?” Her glare sent Ingrid into a slump, frowning with her arms crossed. “That’s what I thought. Now, where was I?”
“He left home when he was sixteen,” Ingrid grunted.
“Right. Karis had always wanted to see the inside of the Hydorian castle. He trained with whatever warrior would have him, learned every fighting style known in Ealis. Then he did what all ambitious young males did in those days—he joined the army. Tinkered around the lower ranks for a while until his power started blooming.”
“Was he hiding his eyes at that point?” Ingrid asked. “Did he know what he was?”
Of that, Tyla was certain. “I’ll never forget that story. A sort of prototype of what you’re wearing now. The alchemist in his village first came up with it when Karis was just a boy. His grandfather had asked if he knew of a way to conceal eye color, and he got to work on it immediately. He wore them for years. But once Karis had risen to Captain, he didn’t feel the need to hide anymore. He started to display some of his powers to his superiors, and within months, he was head of a legion. A year after that, he was invited to visit the king.”
“The king before Makkar?” Ingrid asked. She’d read all she could on the history of Hydor, but since most of those books were written hundreds of years ago, collecting dust somewhere in Callinora’s massive library, she hadn’t found anything covering the ascension of the last fifty years.
“I think,” Tyla said, scrunching her nose. “Or maybe the one before that? Who knows. It doesn’t matter, really. What matters is that the moment Karis finally set foot in that throne room, fulfilling his childhood dream, he had a vision.” She raised her hands, palm up, as if she was receiving some divine message from above. “He saw the darkness that was coming. Saw the murder and religious fervor that would soon take place inside those very walls.”
He'd seen Makkar. His armies. His war.
Or, at least an outline of it.
“So Karis fled,” Tyla said, taking a deep, long breath. “Went into hiding, honing his craft. Then once he’d mastered it, he travelled to Earth. Said it was one of his earliest visions that planted the idea to go there. But that day in the throne room, and what he saw, it was clear that he needed to build an army as soon as possible. The Mother called, and he answered.”
Rustling, Ingrid quickly asked, “Seems like that’sallhe did. Did he ever do anything just because he wanted to?”
Tyla went still at the question. “Now that you mention it,” she said. “He rarely spoke about himself. Sometimes it felt like he didn’t see himself as an individual. Like I told you, he was selfless. One-track minded.”
And utterly dedicated to his mission, Ingrid thought feverishly. What started as a shot in the dark had turned into more cutting questions about Karis’s big secret. Since she’d first heard about the deceit, Ingrid had been oddly hung up on it. And now a new angle presented itself.
“So it’s possible,” she asked. “That maybe he didn’t tell Dean that he was his father for a reason?”
Tyla’s mouth was a tight line as she pondered. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that. Karis was private. Didn’t waste words. But he wasn’t a liar.”
Ingrid’s curiosity was now a persistent tingle spiraling up her throat. “Tell me more about Gianna,” she said. Possibly the closest person to Karis, and the catalyst for what made Dean… Dean.
“Wish I could help,” Tyla said. “But you know just as much as I do. She was brilliant. Flawed, but brilliant. I never heard her speak on anything encroaching sentiment. She lived an entirely cerebral existence.”
“Nothing else?” Ingrid asked sharply.
“Nothing.”
Ingrid hummed, at a loss. If Karis’s lover didn’t offer any insight into him, then maybe he was indeed that much of an enigma.
In the nights by Callinora’s fireplace, reading book after book, she’d started to inadvertently think of the last Oracle before her. At least once a night, Karis would pop up out of nowhere as if he’d called out to her from the grave.
“When Karis was here in Ealis,” Ingrid continued her interrogation. “Before he left for Earth, was he really that isolated from everyone? Dean told me he avoided Viator because of his power and reputation. But did he have allies? Friends?” Specifically, she thought of the faction of wielders that she and Dean had discussed all too briefly. “Did he ever meet with the Libeeri?”
Tyla snapped her head at her student, nearly choking on the water still sloshing in her mouth. “God no. The Libeeri?” Wiping her mouth, she added, “They’re asecretsociety for a reason.They don’t meet. They don’t show themselves. They just… find you.”
“So they neverfoundKaris?”
