In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

23. Rose

23

Rose

I wasted no time heading back to the memorial site. The fox, or…Rissa, I supposed, had brought me miles southeast of the path I’d been on, which I’d discovered after leaving their little cottage and traveling a few minutes north toward a busy street in the south sector.

I may have stolen Leo’s horse. Rissa’s exact words had been “we’re willing to do what it takes to help.” Surely, letting me borrow a ride fell under that purview.

Disbelief clung to me at what this day had brought. Logically, I knew Lark couldn’t have been working alone in her plan. But to find out there was an entire network of rebels, both here in the capital and in the provinces, eager to stop the curse and end Gayl’s rule? That the very man I’d run into not once, but twice now, was part of this mission? That he and his sister were none other than Branock Aris’ children?

It was too much to handle. I was ashamed of my outburst earlier, when I’d tried to attack Leo with my bare hands and broken ribs. But something had snapped. Branock Aris’ children . The man who, somehow or another, was behind the murder of my father. And while I understood deep down that Clarissa and Zareleon didn’t inherit the sins of their parents, I couldn’t seem to separate their voices from the one of that Illusionist twenty years ago. Couldn’t stop seeing the blood that coated my hands whenever Leo touched me. Couldn’t wipe away the sudden surge of vengeance that rippled through me when I laid eyes on them.

How was I supposed to trust them when I could hardly look at them? When their words made that vicious snake inside of me rear its head before I forced it back?

The constant jostling of my skull and midsection as I rode Leo’s beautiful black horse northwest and back to the Battle of the Dead Lands memorial became increasingly less sore as time passed. I had to begrudgingly admit his Alchemy was good. Probably one of the best healing tonics I’d seen.

He said his father had taught him how to make it. The same mind that ordered my innocent father’s execution had once sat down with a younger Leo and showed him how to make someone whole again.

Bitterness coated my tongue, and I shoved all thoughts of the twins, the mission, and my father aside to focus on what was still ahead of me—finishing the first trial.

I estimated it took me another hour to reach the familiar path. That, combined with the slow movement of the sun heading toward the horizon, put the time closer to eight o’clock in the evening. Only four hours were left. How many of the other challengers had already found their artifact?

This tournament wasn’t the only thing that mattered—I understood that. But my competitive spirit was as fierce as ever. I didn’t just want to complete my mission. I wanted to win . I wanted to bring strength back to Feywood. Knowing Callum may have cost me a victory in this first trial made me see red. Gripping the reins so tightly my nails dug crescent moons into my palms, I urged the stallion through the line of trees and into the open clearing beyond where my map told me the memorial site rested.

The grounds were on an enormous, secluded plot of land surrounded by a forest. It looked like citizens barely frequented the area—there were no paths for carriages, no signs of life or civilization besides a stone plaque embedded in the forest floor with the name of the battle and what I assumed was an account of its history. A large statue of a man in armor with a traveling cloak around his shoulders holding a long sword stood in the center of hundreds of small gravestones. The sun had set behind the treeline, making it difficult to read any of the engravings along the statue.

The encroaching darkness made anticipation coil in my stomach. It is cloaked in the day, and revealed in the night. Perhaps my artifact would illuminate itself in the absence of light, as the false one had in the mausoleum.

But as the stars began to wink into existence against a navy and orange sky, nothing seemed to change. I explored the clearing, trailing down each line of gravestones, examining the length of the statue, even going so far as to climb on top of it to search every nook. Out of breath and clutching at my sore ribs, I gingerly jumped back to the ground, leaves crunching underfoot. A twinge went through my skull, but it wasn’t as painful as before.

Leo’s horse was growing restless. I sighed and made my way back to him as he pawed at the ground and shook out his mane. When I passed the raised stone plaque that read “Battle of the Dead Lands,” something tugged at my core.

Something that felt like magic .

Halting in my tracks, I slowly turned to face it, my eyes scouring over the inscription. Only, there was nothing beneath the title. No history or description of the battle that took place so long ago. It was an empty space about the size of three large Grimoires, fresh for carving.

I stepped closer, reaching out a hand, and that same heavy presence of magic circled around my throat and chest.

There was an enchantment here.

I took a thistle leaf from my pouch and placed it on my tongue, uttering the incantation to banish a spell. “ Finiscere .”

The enchantment snapped in the air like a bowstring. Where the plaque had been blank, piles of tiny purple crystals now dotted the edges. Amethyst, by the looks of it. The same crystal that had appeared in the mausoleum.

Could this finally be my artifact? What was I supposed to do with it?

I wracked my brain for every piece of knowledge related to amethyst, dredging up the texts I’d read and the spells it was used for. It was a spiritual stone, one that increased wisdom and intuition and gave some Alchemists ability to perceive beyond the physical world. They claimed to see spirits and understand words of prophecy, although I’d never had that experience.

As I thought, I grabbed a handful of broken crystals and let them fall through my fingers to see if they landed in any particular order on the plaque. Nothing. Was I supposed to cast a spell with them? Try to see the future, however impossible that was?

I looked down again, noticing my disruption of the crystals had cleared a space at the bottom of the plaque. In small letters, the words “by stars or by fate” were etched in the stone.

By stars or by fate .

Instinctively, I glanced up at the night sky above me, which barely held a hint of light. Deep navy blue swam across the heavens, a patchwork of stars dotting the expanse. Moonlight spilled like silver over the darkening forest around me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the night air, letting it soothe me, smoothing the rough fringes.

For a moment, I could forget. For a moment, I could just be . There was no Decemvirate, no curse, no mission. No memories of blood on my hands and lifeless blue-gray eyes. No delusions of grandeur and glory, no sense of inadequacy. No fear, no burning hatred, no spike of vengeance tainting my peace.

Opening my eyes, the constellations shone down on me. I tracked the twinkling stars, ones I knew by heart, even away from Feywood. There was the Surge constellation to the left, a network of stars that made the shape of a lightning bolt. Legend says the Fates put that one in the sky to remind us they could strike us down at any moment. The Dracos Ara, or the decorated dragon, which my father had first shown me when I was a little girl. And the Oracle on the far right—an image of a standing figure with a snake around its legs. Morgana had once told me a story of the Alchemist three hundred years ago who had supposedly summoned the Fates through an Oracle using his blood and?—

Amethyst.

I gasped and grabbed the pieces of broken stone. I wasn’t sure this would work, but it was the only idea I had.

One by one, I placed them on the empty plaque in the shape of the Oracle constellation, talking myself through it as I went. “The head is here, looking down at the snake, while the snake”—I glanced at the sky to make sure I had it right—“the snake is twisted at its feet.”

I moved as fast as I could, feeling the time limit bearing down on me. Finally, the last stone took its place.

The air was silent.

My stomach crashed to my feet, disappointment knocking the breath out of me.

Then the crystals began to glow. A vibration shook the plaque, softly at first, then intense enough for the crystals to quake. Slowly, they moved toward one another, jagged edges finding their home and forging a single large, beautiful amethyst.

Eyes wide, breath trembling, I reached out to grab it. My finger landed on a sharp point at the top, pricking the skin. I winced as a bead of blood coated the tip of the stone, deep red on bright purple.

The grass at my feet vanished, replaced by swirling, white fog, so thick I could barely see my feet. Trepidation crept up my spine, spreading down my arms and making the hair over pebbled flesh rise.

“Beautiful night, Rose Wolff, is it not?” a voice called from behind me.

No, not a voice—dozens of voices all at once, woven together like a tapestry on the wind. I whirled to find a figure shrouded in white floating above the fog. Smoke billowed from beneath their ivory veil, and what looked like streaks of lightning pulsed at their feet.

“Who are you?” I asked hesitantly, my hand angling toward my pouch of herbs.

“You fail to ask the question you ought.” The words encompassed me, setting my teeth on edge and pulling me closer at the same time. I couldn’t tell if this being was young or old, male or female, human or other. But their presence captivated me. My feet stumbled forward of their own accord.

When they didn’t continue, I rubbed my fingers along the opening of my pouch, nervous energy bubbling in my gut. “Well, what question should I ask, then?”

A chill whipped through the clearing, bringing with it whispers that brushed against my skin.

“We are the great Oracle of right, conjured amidst this knowledge plight.” I hadn’t realized I’d been inching closer until the lightning at their feet stung my ankles. I leapt back with a grunt. “We shall grant you one clue as to what lies ahead of you.”

“One clue? As in, for the second trial?” That nervous energy turned to intrigue. Help for the next trial?

The figure nodded, a pale, gray hand sneaking from beneath the white veil and crooking their finger at me. Wordlessly, I floated toward them, pulse pounding.

“A reward, dear Rose, for you have well played your part. The next trial will test the depth of your heart.” The voices rose and swelled in tandem, sending a shiver through me. “There is much for you to learn, and this is all we can tell: when the time comes, believe the gray bells.”

I stared at them, blinking. “What?”

“Believe the gray bells,” they repeated.

“Is—is that all?”

Silence.

Believe the gray bells ? All of this for some cryptic clue? My shoulders sagged, my body breaking from their hypnotic hold over me.

“Believe the gray bells. Got it. Thank you, oh great Oracle,” I said sarcastically, turning on my heel to head to Leo’s agitated horse. Fates, what a waste of?—

A strong, wrinkled hand grasped my wrist. I gasped and spun around, trying to yank from their hold, but their grip was as strong as steel. The light smoke curling around them deepened to black. When they spoke again, it wasn’t the honeyed blending of voices, but a low rasp that scratched my ears.

“When you look in the mirror, what do you find?” They cocked their head. “A rose in full bloom, with thorns on the vine?” Something like a chuckle slithered through the air, echoing around me. “We see dark, hidden secrets, a deceitful tongue. For in the wake of the wicked, your poison will come.” Their voice dropped even further. “We know how this ends, daughter of the moon—only you will decide who meets their doom.”

They retracted their hand, the smoke once again clearing to white. I stared at them slack-jawed, my hand cold where their fingers had clasped.

“Wh-what was that?” I asked shakily. “What does that mean?”

More silence.

“Is that all you can tell me? Was that last part about the second trial, too?” I tried again, desperate for an explanation.

Again, I was only met with the sound of wind whistling through the trees, making my hair lift and swirl around my shoulders. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, and when I looked once more, the Oracle was gone.

Heat radiated from a pocket in my vest, the same way it had in the mausoleum when the enchanted parchment had something to say. I quickly pulled it out, reading the words as they appeared.

Time is almost up. The palace doors lock in two hours.

Fates, I still had to get back to the palace. Grabbing my artifact from the plaque, I sprinted to Leo’s horse and we bolted through the forest.