Chapter 27

There was something truly horrifying about watching myself—or some ancient version of myself—crumble into dust. Somewhere far in the distance, the Oracle's mocking laughter pealed like a bell.

What did any of that even mean?

Could I only use the knife once, and death was the price?

Gods, I needed answers, not more questions.

"What were you trying to tell me?" I swallowed. "I don't understand what I'm supposed to do."

I forced myself to step over the pile of ash, to trace those glowing letters. Power sank into me like a lodestone, cold and deep, turning that slender thread of witch magic to unbreakable steel, and my heart rose.

"All I wanted was to free this world and keep its people safe," I whispered to the pile of crumbled ash. "So far, I've done a piss-poor job. For every good thing I've accomplished, something terrible has come on its heels, and I'm not sure this world wouldn't be better off without me."

I wrapped my hand around the knife hilt, cold biting into my palm, light glowing between my fingers from the inscription. "What does it mean? ‘From the darkest shadows, shine thebrightest flames.' How can I use this weapon to save us?"

Inside me, that delicate thread thrummed in answer.

Like a harp string plucked by an experienced hand, one pure, ringing note turned the tiny thread of witch magic into a force as endless as the dark between the stars.

The heart of a nebula, spinning to life somewhere in the universe. I was here, and yet I was everywhere as magic—the ancient, lost magic of the witches—exploded through me, turning bone and flesh to pure light, the tree on my arm exploding in a shock of pain.

"Anaria." My name rang down that long hall again, but this time it wasn't the Oracle's voice, it was Bexley's.

"I'm here." I lifted my hand from the still-glowing hilt, smoke curling from my palm where the engraving had been seared into my skin in perfect relief. Not all of the quote, only the last part—‘…shine thebrightest flames.'

I came out of the vision down on all fours in a sea of broken glass, head hanging, with a cold, cruel wind raking over me. Instead of coiling shadows inside me, there was a cold, deep well as if I was still falling.

And always would be.

Fingers bit into my arm. Yanked. "Come on, Anaria. Stand up. We have to get out of here."

I blinked a very nervous Bexley into focus, and the lump in my throat grew tighter as I climbed to my feet, blood running down my shins, shards of glass sticking out of my knees where I'd fallen.

"Gods. I didn't think you were ever going to wake up." Bexley's throat bobbed. "We need to get out of here."

The Oracle was still frozen in place, dark eyes staring into the distance, mouth partway open, puffs of steam issuing from her mouth with every panting breath.

I was beyond tempted to leave her here, locked down, a prisoner of her own mind, but she'd escaped before. No, better to stretch our game of cat and mouse out for as long as possible.

"I need you to leave," I told Bex, rubbing my hands together to get my circulation going before I caught a furtive movement out the corner of my eye. The tips of two fluffy, silver-white ears appeared behind a row of overgrown bushes then ducked behind a stone wall on the far end of the palace gardens.

"Find Tavion and whomever else is out there sneaking around, then put some distance between yourselves and this place. I'm going to have a chat with my sister."

"Your…sister?" I didn't think Bex could get any paler, but I was wrong.

"Yup, that's us, one big happy family. I suppose Corvus is my brother, though maybe I can pretend he's adopted or something. Now find them. I'll wait five minutes before I wake her up. I don't want any collateral damage, Bex, do you understand? Find someplace to hide."

Bexley, obviously still processing the fact Gelvira and I were sisters, stared off into space.

"Come on, Bex, don't quit on me now." I punched his arm. "Saving the world is messy business and this is your chance to step up and prove yourself. Find Tavion and get him and everyone else out of the way."

I waited the five minutes, plus an extra one for good measure, then spooled the thread of witch magic back in, though instead of leading to a small, hidden place beneath my heart, there was a vast reservoir now, an ocean of power that I hadn't known existed.

Had this magic been inside me all this time waiting to be discovered?

Or was this another of my sister's illusions, meant to blind me to the true nature of the knife? Only one way to be sure.

Gelvira sucked in a quick breath, blinking those dark-as-night eyes, confusion turning to hate.

I hid my shaking hands behind my back. "Welcome back, sister. Since you like to play games, let's continue, shall we?"

"Did you find what you were looking for, Anaria?" she spat. "Creeping through my memories like a thief?"

Oh, she was pissed. Which meant she hadn't been in control at the end, which meant…that moment between me and the witch had been real.

"I saw enough," I told her evenly. "Not very pleasant, is it, to have someone take control?"

Her fury was hot enough to flay the skin off a Howler. "I suppose you released me for some reason other than to judge me by your outdated moral standards?"

"I did, as a matter of fact. I want to make you a deal."

She knew how to hurt me in the worst ways, but I knew what she wanted.

And I was the only one in this entire world who could give it to her.

"I will release the magic in Varitus if you tell me how to stop your brother. You might be able to exist on the dredges of magic of another dead world, but I don't think that's what you really want, is it?"