Page 43 of The Cruel Dawn
The monk takes a deep breath and flips several pages, passing depictions of horrible beasts and scarier landscapes and complicated diagrams. Finally, he stops at a drawing of an amulet made of metal as dark as my new armor. The pendant’s body is made up of crossed swords and compass points, all shaped like a star and ending in spikes tipped with red, blood-like thorns. The deep-crimson gemstone sitting in its center burns and glows even on the page. Malevolent and beautiful, battle and discovery, conquest and death… Its danger wafts from the page like potent perfume.
Elyn pales, and her eyes darken into stormy ice. “That’s the traitor’s amulet.”
Agon slams the book closed. “Yes, it is, and that’s the gem known as TERROR, and we must destroy it. Doing so not only kills Danar Rrivae and saves Vallendor, but destroying it also releases Jadon from certain doom.”
My uncle and Elyn eyeball me, waiting. Clearly, they’ve devised this angle: Kai will save her man even if she doesn’t give a damn about the rest of us.
I bare my teeth, intent on denying them their leverage. “I don’t care if Jadon lives or dies.”
Elyn snorts. “Sure you don’t.”
“I want Danar Rrivae out of my realm,” I say, ignoring her. “I want my people free from his and Wake’s threat. I want to free the Aetherium from the traitor’s deceit and bring safety and happiness to all of us. The realms should decide their destiny—not Danar Rrivae. I’m here for a purpose: to be the Grand Defender of Vallendor rather than one random woman swinging her blade at shadows. I will break all of me to destroy all of him and any others who seek to take his place.”
I open the book and find that illustration of Danar Rrivae’s amulet. My breath races in my chest, and breathing feels like tiny shards of glass stabbing my lungs. “Before I agree,” I continue, “there’s someone I must speak to first.” I peer at Agon. “And you know who that is.”
My uncle pales and stands as still as the Raqiel guards.
“Well?” I say, closing the book. “You have the power to make that happen, Uncle.”
“Kai,” Agon says, “I don’t think—”
“Please, Wisdom,” Elyn says to him, “we need to get going. Do we want to waste any more time on this march to battle?”
“Elyn’s right,” I say. “And that kind of judgment is what makes her the Adjudicator. The longer you keep telling me ‘no,’ the worse off the realm becomes.” I grin. “You have the power to make this happen, becauseyouare the anchorite of Abbey Devour.”
Agon grumbles and shuffles past us and to the northern aerie and toward the sentinels.
Elyn and I exchange looks, and I wink at her. She rolls her eyes and follows the old man.
Down here, the atmosphere crackles with the heady current of power. The two sentinels that guard the Glass of Infinite Realms are as tall as three mortal men standing on each other’s shoulders. They wear platinum breastplates without tunics underneath. Their arms lack the red ribbons tied around the arms of Elyn’s guards, and they do not wear the gray kerchiefs that cover the bottom half of her sentinels’ faces. But they do share the same gray eyes, white skin, and whiter hair, and their swords—silver blades with a red cardinal on the scabbard and another cardinal etched into the hilt—are ready to end a god who’s gone off the path.
The looking glass they guard reflects colors that spin and swirl.
I fix my eyes on the mirror.
The Glass of Infinite Realms is the only portal in Vallendor that reaches Linione. Because it is so sacred, the mirror will immediately destroy those who step through it who are not worthy; or the mirror will let the unworthy live but consume so many pieces of you that you’d wish that you’d been destroyed altogether.
I’ve used it several times before, before my change.
Elyn stands behind me, her eyes and hair the color of snow, so bright against her umber skin.
I stare at my reflection. My pupils are so golden that I can’t see the definition of my eyes. Bruised-cherry-colored markings swirl at my hairline—the skin there feels raw. Fresh, healing scars adorn my cheeks and chin.
Past the clean skin and washed hair, beyond the cocked chin and smirk, I see…
The trembling lips and tear-filled eyes of a lost girl. I see the hollow gaze of someone who tried, who cared too much, who went too far, someone who’d been punished and stripped of all that she’d worked for, all that she loved. I see a woman banished to her dying realm—dying thanks to her own arrogance and hardened heart.
And now, I dip my head to keep from crying for that lost girl in the mirror’s reflection.
Elyn touches my shoulder and squeezes.
“Imustsee him,” I whisper.
She says, “I know.”
My hands shake, and I press them against my hips to keep steady. I dare to look at my reflection again. But now, as I search for me, the Glass starts to shine with colors that don’t exist in Vallendor. Pinks that shine blue. Greens that shine pink. The whole picture hypnotizes me; I could stand here and watch these colors forever as long as I don’t have to seemeagain. I don’t know what I’d do if I saw me again.
The stones in Elyn’s and Agon’s amulets ignite—two birds, wisdom and peace.
