Page 97 of Oracle of Ruin

I push a ripple of power his way. “Now!”

The magic is enough to set his feet running towards the hill again. “You have twenty-four hours and then I’m coming back!” he shouts as he crosses the hill to safety.

I can make that work.

The stone screeches as it grinds in closing. I force oxygen to my burning legs with each deep breath I take and will my feet to move faster. With only a sliver of time left, I launch myself from the ground and fall through the opening. My shoulder barks in pain as it makes contact with the stone floor. A sickening pop comes as the joint dislodges from its socket and hot blood begins to seep through the tear in my tunic. I hiss in pain as I roll onto my back, surrounded by the dark.

I sob through clenched teeth and call for light. “Lumis.” Even the words refuse to bear power. I fish through my pouch with my good hand, pulling out a match and using my hands to find a torch along the wall. Thank the Laei Derrín remembered to grab our gear as we ran. Once the torch is lit, I set to the second task—resetting my shoulder. I bite down on the leather strap of my sack as I grab my wrist and pull. The crack resounds in the cavern as I scream against the leather, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

My blood should heal the wound soon enough, if the Oracle is of any help at all, so I forgo turning my only shirt into a sling and pluck the torch from the ground. The flame sputters slightly as I rise and inspect the walls. There is only one path to follow, and I allow the cave system to guide me. I don’t have time to think on the absence of my powers. I have twenty-four hours to get the Oracle to agree to teach me and learn how to save everyone.

No pressure.

Every so often, the cave rumbles and debris falls from the ceiling. I pray there’s no cave-in ahead or behind me, or I may be forced to find an alternative exit.

A distinct smell fills these caves. Something between musk and floral, but disgustingly fragrant. I swallow hard to avoid gagging and force myself to breathe through my mouth.

Somewhere within the system, I can hear water trickle. I feel hope pricking at my skin. If there’s water, there is generally life of some form. An Oracle may be a godlike figure, but they must need to eat and drink all the same.

That is the hope I cling to as I quicken my step, marching towards the sound. I try to keep my mind from wandering to whatever squelching substance I am stepping in. I slip for a moment, stiffness arching through my spine.

Soon enough, my efforts pay off and I blow my hair from my eyes just as a dim light appears at the end of the tunnel. I take off somewhere between a walk and a jog, though perhaps it appears more as a limp. I find myself in a large room lit only by a few flickering torches, the lights a dim lilac. A figure sits cross-legged in the center of the cavern, their eyes crusted shut with years of disuse.

I don’t need to call out for a response or to question who they are. I know.

“I was wondering when you would show yourself, pureblood,” the Oracle says slowly.

Chapter39

Verosa

The Oracle sits in the center of the room, an aura of darkness surrounding the figure. My own darkness calls me closer. Beckoning. Longing. I heed the call, stepping closer until their face becomes visible.

Weathered skin coats a youthful face, the deep color taking on an unnatural purple hue. Violet eyes snap open, framed by a thick set of dark lashes. Inky black streaks like war paint slide down their cheeks, causing their long, dark hair to stick about their face.

The Oracle of Raonkin is darkness incarnate, but not only that—they are a woman. Or at least, they present as a woman now. Legends have warned that they will take on whatever form they please given the century, a rumor which aids in their elusive nature.

I step forward, allowing those amethyst eyes to drink me in. I know this is unnecessary, as they could sense me the moment I entered their territory. My darkness calls for them, tendrils of power emanating from my being. I swallow thickly and step forward to accept my fate.

“Verosa Iales of Krycolis. Darkness slayer, the last blessed mage. Blood bridge—no, they do not call you that yet.” Their voice is a dry rasp, as if they have not used their tongue in thousands of years. “You have gathered quite a few titles. Lived a few lives. Which one are you now?”

“I come only as Verosa.”

“Verosa. An old name of a long-dead dialect. Do you know what it means?”

I do. I’ve known the irony of the meaning of my name since I was a child. Irene never failed to remind me, and now these haunting dreams finish her job.

“Truth.”

The Oracle’s lips peel open in a smile. “Truth. Light. Purity. It is all the same. You don’t feel you fit the title?”

“The title is what Ineed.” I raise my voice, emboldened now. “I need to know the truth. I need to know how to end this war. How to kill the king.”

That smile twists into something cruel and sadistic. The echoing cacophony of crunching bones fills the cave as the Oracle stands. Bones snap into place while they rise and stalk my way, a withered hand already reaching for my face. A razor-sharp fingernail grazes my cheek, painlessly drawing blood. “A daughter of my master’s enemy seeking my assistance in killing her son. Your hubris makes you foolish, girl. Return home. There is no place for you here.”

“There is no home, not anymore. He has done wrong to people ofbothgods. He kills without discrepancy. I come to cease the bloodshed.”

It takes me a moment to realize before my gaze trails back to those violet eyes. With a gasp, I notice something I had failed to before. There is no blackness within the purple—they have no pupils. The Oracle is blind.

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