Page 105 of Oracle of Ruin

“There are people I love who are better than I am, and I refuse to fail them again.”

Silence.

Then the Oracle lays a small vial in my lap. Their face is passive, but I can feel the shift in the air. It is not quite the same storm that was brewing when I entered, more the gentle silence after rainfall where the sky knows it lost something. Reverential, and nearly regretful.

“What’s this?” I ask, bringing my eye to the bottle. I nearly drop it, but Vestíg catches it before the vial can shatter and spill the poison everywhere.

Poison. The Oracle handed me poison.

Krycolian Viper venom mixed with pure cursed blood, to be precise.

The silver liquid sloshes against the side of the vial, the sweet scent of the venom filling the air. It is potent enough to drown out the dank scent of the mold in the cavern now that we have returned from the visions the Oracle trained me in. The pain of my wounds has returned, my shoulder still hanging limp and my calf still bleeding profusely. The pain is lessened and I lift my hand not holding the vial.

“The final trial.”

Light dances between my fingertips and I choke back a sob.

“The final test is death.”

I spring to my feet, Vestíg’s shadow following my every motion. His form winds itself around my arm as if sorrowful. I shake him off, panic gripping at my chest. “No.”

“Blood bridge.”

“No,” I hiss. “All of this was not for nothing. If I die, then that is what will happen. The kingdom will fall. My friends will die. I’m sorry, did you miss the part where I’m theonlyone that can kill the Kijova?”

The Oracle speaks slowly, as if weighing each word. “Then don’t die.”

Death is the final test, but I shouldn’t die?

As if sensing my question, the being continues, their violet eyes darkening like twilight. I swear for a moment, I can see stars in them, the last stars I might ever see.

“The poison will kill you, if the gods deem you unworthy. The venom preserves the body, but the poison will kill it. However, with my assistance, your soul will live, trapped in your body, unless the gods intervene.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? ‘Unless the gods intervene’?”

“The final trial happens in your mind. A guide will appear in the darkness, a manifestation of the worst parts of you. Unlike my training, this manifestation will be real. If it is a Kijova, it will be real. If it is a person, it will be their soul. They will guide you to the answers you seek. If you survive and the gods deem your soul worthy to live, then your soul will return to your body and your body will return to life. If you fail…”

“Idiedie.”

“Yes.”

I weigh the bottle in my hand, watching the silver liquid slosh against the sides. This much cursed blood is enough to kill twenty men twice my size. Not even my pure blood could attempt to save me from this much poison.

I uncork the bottle with my thumb and let the cork fall to the floor. My gaze rises to the Oracle in questioning. “And this will show me what I must do to save everyone?”

The Oracle nods. “Look for the guide. They will be the physical manifestation of the darkest parts of your soul. Only they can lead you to the answers you seek. You must conquer them first, or your soul will die with your body.”

Vestíg curls around my shoulders. Somehow, the shadows seem desolate, as if already in mourning. He rubs affectionately against my cheek while the Oracle stares on in wonder.

“I’ve never met a human quite like you, blood bridge.”

I ignore their comment, my racing heart all but drowning out those last words. I tenderly run a finger down the length of Vestíg’s shadowy form. “Protect Derrín for me, please? He will be on his own for the way home now.”

I will.

I swallow the lump in my throat and with shaking hands, raise the poison to my lips. The blood burns my lips upon contact and singes my mouth and throat. The glass shatters to the ground, slipping out of my hand almost immediately. My hands fly to my throat as I croak. All air evades my lungs and I fall to my knees.

“Vera?” I can hear Derrín calling from the hallway. “Vera!” His feet reach my vision by the time my back hits the stone. His arms wrap under mine and lift me to his chest. His scarred fingers brush the hair from my eyes and press into my throat for a pulse. His gaze finds the silver-flecked broken glass and his eyes widen in horror. “No, no, don’t you dare. You’re not allowed to leave me too.” His tears drip from the bridge of his nose against my cheek.

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