Page 38 of Return of the Darkness
For the cost of a curse, there must be a price,
Find your reflection in the ancient and say goodbye.”
Athena gasped for air as Sadira poured another glass from the woman’s canter, unsure of its contents. Blinking rapidly, Athena accepted the glass from Sadira, who scribbled the words onto parchment littered across the countertop.
“A prophecy,” Sadira said while Athena glugged. “But I have heard the first part from Osiris, and given his age, I assume it stems from another land, someplace old.” Athena hit her chest as she spluttered. Finally, she calmed and glanced between Sadira and the inkpot now soaking the pin. With hurried hands, she pulled a piece of cloth free from under a stack of parchment.
“Prophecies are often triggered by the energy held within items,” Athena murmured, dipping her finger into the inkpot to pull the pin free. “My words are somehow linked to this pin.” Athena wiped the cloth over the pin before lifting it to the light. The faded engraving was now filled with black ink and made the symbol easier to see. While Sadira could now see the symbol more clearly—the sharp criss-crossing lines and scattered dots—she knew nothing of its meaning.
“Do you know what it means?” asked Sadira. Athena lifted the other pin with the Wiccan symbol, holding them side by side.
“No, but it is a variation of the old language. It shares similarities to the symbols we use, but it’s different enough.”One abides, one rebels.“Whatever the man told you, whatever you must find or discover, is linked to the owners or history of these two pins.” Athena dropped the two trinkets back into the box, along with the wolf head pin. Before Sadira could ask more, Taryn stormed into the apothecary, wide-eyed, followed by the other three guards. His mouth hung open, panting. Reaching for the fabric hanging above the window, he tugged the rope, allowing it to fall, cursing when it only covered the upper half of the window. The other guards leant against the doors, their hands on the pommels of their swords.
“What is the meaning of—” Athena stopped when a phantom breeze drifted through the room, snuffing out half of the candles in the process. A chill drifted around Sadira, who wrapped her cloak tighter around herself as she approached Taryn. The guard pushed his blonde hair back and held a finger to his lips, quelling her many questions. Sadira did as instructed. Silence fell across the room as they all waited, though Sadira did not know what for.
“Let me pass,” Athena hissed, trying to shove the guards aside.
“Athena, if they say not to go outside, don’t—”
Three dark figures slowly hovered past the window and paused right before the door. Sadira watched, waiting to see if they pulled for a weapon, but only as she stared at the faint glow of the remaining candles did she see the dark wisps. They were not men; they were Elisara’s soldiers.
“It is fine. They will not harm us.” Sadira smiled at Athena, who shook her head. Sadira’s smile faltered.
“If you wish to keep your fears and emotions in check, you will let me get to the door,” Athena hissed at the guards. The men looked at Taryn and then Sadira, who nodded, permitting them to step aside. Athena withdrew a blade from under her apron and sliced her wrist before shoving the handle into the guard's chest in a bid to take it. Outside, the shadows shifted, like they could smell the blood. Athena was swift as she traced her finger over the crimson liquid and painted a Wiccan symbol on the door: an encircled cross with a swirl at its centre, like a lock in chains. Locked, null, pause. Athena was stopping the dark soldiers from crossing into the apothecary, though her actions had earned wary glances from the guards.
They waited silently as the soldiers passed the window and reached the door. Sadira jumped when it rattled. As the guards drew their blades, the silence was broken only by the echo of steel. They halted as the door stopped moving. Taryn edged towards the window and stooped to peer through the glass. Sadira held her breath.
“Gone,” Taryn whispered. “For now.” Sadira gave a sigh of relief.
“Stay here until sunrise,” Athena murmured, reaching for a basket of blankets under a table.
“They protected us in Keres. Why would they be different now?”
Athena shook the blankets free of dust as she looked at Sadira.
“It would appear I am not the only one remembering things.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nyzaia
Nyzaia fidgeted more than usual, refusing to meet Soren’s eye as she stood captive in Jabir’s clutches in the dark, dusty alleyway. The Palm Tavern was quiet from outside, with no drunk revellers or thunderous music echoing from within. Even the rule-breakers appeared to abide by the curfew that had been enforced ever since the battle. The journey to the tavern had been tense; Farid was on high alert after the attack in Nyzaia’s chambers, and Soren jumped at every shout near the alleyways.
“Jabir said the owner is still inside. He saw at least four men in hooded apparel enter through this back entrance,” Farid relayed to his queen, keeping his voice hushed. Nyzaia nodded, unsurprised. It sounded like they resembled the man who had attacked her. Farid glanced over his shoulder at Soren, but the fallen queen stared only at her boots. With the dirt and blood washed from her skin, Soren looked small, with her hunched shoulders and golden braids catching the light. Her dark brown tunic and trousers she had been provided washed her out; she was a shadow of the fierce warrior she displayed in battle. She looked lost.
“You feel sorry for her,” Farid said.
“No!” Nyzaia snapped, prompting Farid to raise his eyebrow. Nyzaia looked away, her blood simmering again. The memory of Caligh and Soren on the Ashun Desert flashed through her mind. Nothing had happened when she spoke his name in the bathing pool, confirming the way Caligh had controlled her mind, was different to the control the debt had over Osiris. “I can’t forgive her, Farid. Regardless of her broken state, she is the reason mybrother is dead, and why Elisara is the way she is. She has caused too much damage.”
“You do not need to forgive to understand or help someone.”
“She doesn’t deserve help.”
“Even after she saved you today?”
“Herwolfdid. Besides, I was moments away from handling the situation.” Nyzaia clenched her jaw.
“She could have told him not to but didn’t.” Farid pushed, but Nyzaia did not respond. “What now? Should she rot for crimes she committed not of her free will, even after allowing you to be saved? I sense your feelings, Nyzaia. I know you checked. While she was not controlled the same as Osiris, I felt your shock. You discovered something about his hold over her.” Nyzaia replayed the scene in her mind—the memory of Soren, Sadira, and Caligh. It felt so real, as if she had been there as it happened, watching the events unfold. She could not explain what had connected her mind with Soren’s.
