Page 104 of Oracle of Ruin

“No, she deserves to know. I don’t intend to fail in bringing her home. Iwon’t.” I keep my voice level and firm, a tone I do not usually take with the two adults sitting across from me.

Aiko’s gaze is challenging, her eyebrows furrowed and her face all hard lines. I see so much of Vera in them both now. Her eyes and calculating glare. Finneas’s smile and furrowed brow. Vera’s nose scrunches the same way his does when they’re deep in thought, and she throws her head back to laugh like Aiko.

Aiko’s shoulders drop and she nods, once. “Let’s bring her home then.”

Chapter42

Verosa

The last shadow disintegrates in a strong burst of light. My skin is glowing, my veins bursting with light with each motion I make. The magic caresses my senses like an old friend, longing filled with relief at its return. The part of me that craved dark magic has been satiated with the abundance of light that bursts from my every pore. I am not filled with light.

Iamlight.

The Oracle claps, a slow and languid motion that rattles the chandelier above my head. The ballroom fades from view and I find myself in the library seated by the window I used to hide by with my friends.

“No more trials?”

I’ve killed countless shadow monsters by now, each in a different place of my memory, each one possessing skills that are my weaknesses, each one bearing a different face. Afterwards, the Oracle says something to Vestíg, asks me a question with a shrouded meaning, then transports us elsewhere.

“Just one, but it will wait a moment.” The Oracle passes a mug my way. It is filled with molten chocolate.

I take a slow sip as the first snowflake hits the window.

“You still have questions,” they note with a wiry smile.

I purse my lips and nod. I’ve defeated several monsters, faced countless memories, and yet questions still burn in my mind. Questions with answers only they have. “Life is supposed to be a balance, and yet we can only use light magic? Why not dark magic?” My fingers tighten around the mug in my hand. “When I use light magic, it feels fulfilling, like an extension of myself. But the dark magic is different. It is wild, and without a sacrifice, it feels like it is tearing me apart. That doesn’t seem like a balance to me.”

The Oracle considers this if only for a moment. Vestíg winces as they shift that sightless gaze my way. “You assume everything was designed for men. You humans tend to think the universe was made for you when really, you were an afterthought. Dark magic is able to be wielded by gods. Men just are not… durable enough for such power.”

“What do you mean?”

“You humans like attaching names to things you cannot understand. Good and evil, light and dark. There is no good or evil magic, there is only magic in its various forms. What you call dark magic is the same as your light magic, just a form that is not suitable for humans to use. You make up your stories and warnings. You do anything but accept the truth that not all things were designed for you. This ‘dark’ magic is a more archaic form that was meant to be wielded by gods, not men. Sure, you have found a way, but all you’re doing is letting the power tear your body apart.”

I pause, my hand throbbing at the reminder of the power I let overtake me. A blush coats my face. I hadn’t considered it that way. “And you aren’t a god?”

They shake their head. “I am neither god nor man. Only a messenger.”

Well, that couldn’t be less helpful.

“I have a question for you now, pureblood,” they say after a long pause. “You fear the snow and the dark, yet not heights. Why?”

It is a question I have gotten a few times in my life, especially after my stunts where I willfully jumped out of windows rather than falling. I fell from Irene’s study and broke my leg, something that should have killed me, yet I fear what came after—the snow, the darkness beckoning. It has chased me all my life, yet still, I jump. I push past the boundaries that others deem the more appropriate lines to draw.

“I never feared the fall,” I finally admit. “It was free. I was weightless and it was wonderful, so how could I fear something that gave me what I wanted?” I swallow thickly and take another small sip. My fingers reach out of their own accord, the pads of my fingertips pressing against the cool glass. “I feared the end. The moment it all caught up with me.”

“You cannot outrun death no more than you can outrun time,” is the Oracle’s response.

I grimace even as I acknowledge the truth in them. The weight. I’ve cheated death all my life. One of these days, the darkness would smother me and there would be nothing but unending cold. I don’t know if I believe in the afterlife, and I panic if I think too long about it. The unknown is something that goes against the core of my curious nature, and the thought of having to face it for eternity one day…

My breaths come out in panicked gasps. No man can outrun death, not a king or a pureblood. Only a god. For a moment, I look upon Vestíg with something like contempt. This fear is something he would never know. He and the gods that made us.

“Why do you come now to save the people you turned your back on?”

“Because I was wrong to run from my problems, and it cost me the thing I loved most,” I finally admit. Even my best attempt at selflessness is rooted in my selfish nature. “We were all given a purpose by the gods, right? I was supposed to be queen, and I failed, so they punished me.”

“Do not think it is so simple,” the Oracle says, reaching into their cloak. “You were a child who was hurt by those who were supposed to protect you. Running became a habit. But you’ve come here to break that habit. Why?”

I think back to the people I’ve loved and those I’ve lost. The Nightwalkers who have shown me their despise within their love indiscriminately, and the people in the palace who put their faith in me. Even Lucius, who might have been the first person to truly see me for who I am. Who endured the most of my hatred for it.

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