Chapter Fifty-Five

C HAPTER F IFTY-FIVE

‘Apologies for the mess.’ Silaria, the seer, takes off her shawl and places it on a hook beside the door, revealing long, glossy dark hair. The inside of her hut is small, with just enough room to fit about ten of us in here, though we can hardly move an inch.

‘I haven’t had any visitors in years,’ she laughs lightly.

‘Looks like it,’ Rydan mutters with a snort, and Link elbows him.

‘Are you all right?’ Freya whispers from the doorway, and I peer over my shoulder as she stares at Idris with a hint of worry in her eyes.

Idris is leaning against the wall, breathing harshly, his eyes half closed.

I’m already walking over to him with immense concern, but Silaria’s high-pitched whistle makes me jump.

‘Pips!’ she sings, searching the hut, until she stops and claps with glee as she stares down at the rocky floorboards. ‘Ah, there you all are.’

What sounds like a thousand chirping birds turns out to be the excitable commotion as a flurry of Tibithians crowd around her.

I gasp out my surprise at all their different sizes, some bigger than Tibith, and others so small, they could fit in the palm of my hand.

Silaria bends down to stroke one. They purr and wiggle their noses. ‘I took them all in years ago after my friends perished.’ She looks at us. ‘They keep me company.’

The Tibithians spot Tibith by my side and surround him, sniffing his fur with curiosity.

‘Hello!’ Tibith’s ears flap as he waves at them. ‘My name is Tibith. What is yours?’

Darius chuckles, and Silaria stands, watching their interaction.

A shadow of humour crosses her bright eyes. ‘This might be the first time I have heard a Tibithian speak,’ she says. ‘It’s rare that anyone is ever willing to try to teach a creature to talk.’

‘Well, Tibith was always keen to learn.’ Darius stares at Tibith, a smile lingering on his lips.

Silaria chuckles. ‘And have you thought about letting him go with his own kind?’

‘Tibith is family,’ I say. ‘If he were ever to decide to leave and go on with his kind, we wouldn’t stop him. But for now, he is happy here with us.’

She hums in thought before turning her back to us as she rearranges some flowerpots on her table. ‘So, what is it that brings you here?’

Darius and I glance at each other. He nods for me to go on, so I step forward and say, ‘I am sure you have seen the chaos that has unfolded lately.’

Silaria pauses. ‘I tend to stay out of it all,’ she huffs, then resumes picking at her flowers. ‘Though sadly, my visions do not let me.’

My eyes narrow. ‘You saw us coming here.’ A seer is not a witch, after all. Their visions come and stay with them even in the darkest of hours.

After a minute, Silaria nods. ‘I have seen you in my dreams many times, Naralía.’ She turns to me. ‘It is nice to finally meet you in person.’

I tilt my chin up at her. ‘Likewise.’

She smirks. ‘Now,’ she says, looking towards Darius and then me. ‘What is it you wish to know?’

‘Years ago, you told Sarilyn Orcharian about a battle between powerful beings.’

She stares at me, not liking where this is going. ‘I did.’

‘She made her general kill your friends, the witches, but did you also ever mention to her that Aurum once fell in love . . . with a witch?’

Silaria’s eyes carry the weight of past secrets, her gaze shifting to everyone inside her home. ‘No, I did not.’ Her denial comes out in a whisper. ‘But I do know who it was.’ She glances at Darius. ‘Thanks to your mother.’

Darius tenses beside me. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Your mother and I were once very close. In fact, she and the twins were my only trusted friends at the time.’ She smiles to herself. ‘I still remember the day she brought you over. You were such a shy little boy. Up until I handed you a piece of gold jewellery, and then you settled down.’

I can’t stop the laugh that comes out of me as I look up at Darius. The image of him so young and shy melts every bit of my heart.

He chuckles under his breath, shakes his head and slides a glance Silaria’s way. ‘And my mother?’

Silaria turns and walks over to her cupboards, rifling through them. ‘ Aurelia ’, she begins, ‘was always an outcast among her family. At least, that is what she always told me. She was considered the weakest among her siblings, which meant Aurum never considered her a threat. He knew he was the greatest king to live, and the more power-hungry he became, the more he forgot about his family. That was . . . until he met her .’ She sighs. ‘Orna.’

There is a pause as the name settles over all of us.

‘That is what Aurelia said her name was. She was a witch assigned to him. Their connection tethered to help one another.’

‘They fell in love,’ Freya says quietly, but everyone manages to hear it, including Silaria as she turns.

‘Yes.’ She smiles, then eyes Freya with a look of interest. ‘You’re a witch too. A halfling .’

Freya swallows and then nods, placing one hand behind her back; the other is holding Idris’s. He seems to be better; whatever is going through his mind is now soothed by Freya’s touch.

‘As I was saying,’ Silaria brings my attention back to her. ‘Despite them falling in love, Aurum had this ideology about life that Orna never agreed with.’

‘What happened to her?’ Illias asks.

‘Aurelia knew the relationship was wrong,’ Silaria continues. ‘Aurum was too possessive, and he became untethered against the sorcerers at the time, killing anyone that even spoke of Orna. All of this soon led to the war, but before it could, Aurelia wanted Orna to leave. Even promised her a better life if she left Emberwell. When Aurum found out, he almost killed Aurelia; luckily, their siblings intervened, but by the time Aurum went in search of Orna, a group of humans who were in favour of the sorcerers had attacked her carriage and—’ She is unable to finish her words, swallowing them as if they are poison.

The reality is that she was murdered. How gruesome it was, I do not ever wish to know. But it explains Aurum’s hatred for humans ever since that moment.

‘Eventually,’ she says, ‘he found a new witch to aid him in his twisted decisions. But she was never able to replace Orna.’

‘What can we do to destroy him once and for all?’ I say, my voice carrying this sense of urgency. We have less than five days before Aurum kills more of my people and destroys the kingdom itself.

Silaria sighs, her dark hair covering her sharp features as she looks at the floor. ‘I do not know.’

‘You do.’ I take a step towards her. ‘You have to know.’

She lets out a laugh that sounds borderline self-mocking. ‘My dear, I may be a seer, but that does not mean I can tell you exactly word for word what will happen within the next few minutes, let alone ten years from now.’

My hope depletes, and I look away, feeling the frustration trying to best me.

‘But what I can tell you is that Orna is and always will be his weakness.’

That doesn’t make this any better.

‘And what are we supposed to do with that information when she is no longer alive?’ Darius raises his brows at her expectantly.

Silaria simply smiles cryptically. ‘She doesn’t have to be alive to end him. Have you ever thought that perhaps the place where life was given to him is also the place where it can be taken away?’

Her words coil around me like a serpent, whispering knowledge into my ears that I can decipher completely.

‘What—’

My question is severed by the sudden sound of a body hitting the ground with a weight that drags the breath from my lungs.

‘Idris!’ Freya yells, and I spin around with my heart in my throat, finding my brother crumpled on the floor as he claws at his splint.

We all rush to him, a flurry of hands trying to hold him down as he writhes in agony, and Silaria marches over to see.

‘Idris,’ I plead. ‘Look at me—’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, glancing over at Freya. ‘Forgive me.’

Freya and I look at each other; our worry is so potent that it taints the air around us with dread.

‘What’s wrong with him, Mrs Nara?’ Tibith’s voice is a distant cry, lost in the chaos of my mind right now.

Darius acts quickly, ripping the dressing off his wrist just as Silaria looks at my brother. Immediately, she takes a frightened step back, her expression solemn as she turns to look at me, like this is the one thing she had not seen coming. ‘I am so sorry, child.’ That is all she says before I glance down at Idris’s wrist, and my worst fear comes to life.

There, etched into Idris’s flesh, are the unmistakable marks of a bite – marks that match where Aurum grabbed his wrist only yesterday.