The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

19. The Benevolent Oracle

Chapter nineteen

The Benevolent Oracle

C horal music rang out as two female acolytes escorted Solveig down the aisle, their high-pitched melody twisting her already addled mind. The scent of powdered rose invaded her nose as sweat beaded at her nape from the heat in the room. The many white pews sat empty, save for one. At the front of the chamber, her parents sat beside Gabriel, watching as she made her way down the long aisle, to where Leader Ezekiel stood atop the dais.

Solveig glanced behind him to where the sun shone through an arched wall of stained glass. The art depicted an image of the Elysian Caldera on the day of The Oracles ascension. It had taken over fifty of Torrelin’s most talented pyromancers, more than a year to complete. Even now, years later, there was a sect solely responsible for its upkeep. It had been thousands of hours of work that had all gone unpaid in the name of honouring the beloved Oracle.

Leader Ezekiel’s voice interrupted her thoughts, as Gabriel channelled his Aire magic to carry his voice across the vast room.

“Welcome all on this auspicious day! We thank you for taking precious time out of your days to bear witness to the long-awaited return of our princess, Solveig Aila Maleen. As she prepares once more to give her thanks in offering to The Oracle.”

Silence permeated the air, and Solveig remained rooted to the spot.

“Come forth, child.” Leader Ezekiel beckoned with an outstretched hand. Solveig held her head high despite the pounding ache between her temples. Shaking her arms free of the acolytes, she walked toward the grand copper pedestal.

“Is there anything you wish to say before we begin?” he asked with a soft, warm gleam in his eyes. The words came to her as easy as breathing.

“I, Solveig Aila of house Maleen, wish to give my thanks to The Oracle for their unwavering love and protection. They who have kept us on the righteous path, safe and sound, these many centuries. It is not duty, but an honour to present myself to The Oracle.”

“The Oracle receives your gift with gratitude.” Leader Ezekiel smiled. “Place your hands within the pedestal.” She stared at the gleaming copper, decorated with gems for every known power, so similar to the cube hidden in the back rooms.

At twenty-five, she’d been through enough ceremonies to know what they expected of her. She knelt before the pedestal, a sign that no one, not even royalty, was above the will of The Oracle. A window of light shone on her to symbolise their ever-watchful gaze.

Every blue gem on the pedestal glowed, as did those within the cuffs at her wrists. Excess energy collected by the cuffs would be drained into the pedestal, where Leader Ezekiel used his power to channel it down deep into the earth. The temple was situated atop a powerful ley line; the pedestal lay at the cross point of that power. Leader Ezekiel’s magic allowed the offerings to flow through the earth across the many miles to the Elysian Caldera, where The Oracle ruled at the heart of Osvolta.

Solveig’s knees ached the longer she knelt. The ceremony seemed more drawn out than she remembered. Sure, she had two years’ worth of excess power that needed to be drained. Yet she felt off centre, as though something was drawing her closer, pulling harder. There was a twinge in her chest as if the pedestal were pulling power directly from her and not from her cuffs.

Then a voice laughed in her head once more.

Payment for keeping your secret, Princess.

Had her wrists not been trapped, Solveig was sure she would have fallen to the ground in shock. She’d heard The Oracle in her head again, long after the connection with the cube was severed.

She stared up at Leader Ezekiel, who watched her with rapt attention. And in that moment, she knew. It was the same magic that allowed theirs to travel the ley lines that gave The Oracle access to her mind. The ancient pedestal and the cube were practically the same, and now The Oracle knew how to manoeuvre her mind. All they required was the power of an Earth Breaker to connect them across the many miles, straight through the ley lines.

Her power felt as though it was gushing out of her as she fought to keep her eyes open, shadows creeping around the edges of her vision. Solveig thought she heard someone cough. Her eyes flew wide as a splash of dark red appeared on the floor before her. Her chest rattled, the muscles of her neck clenched as more coughs ripped from her, wet and choking and aching. Blood dripped from her mouth and nose, body shaking, skin as white as the walls of the temple. She slumped forward.

“Release her,” commanded a voice that Solveig couldn’t place. She drifted in and out of consciousness, becoming lost in a spiral of terror. More coughs racked her body as she slid to the floor, arms stretched up to where her wrists were still trapped in the pedestal. Her breaths came thick and fast. Lungs heavy as she fought for air around the blood that clogged her throat. A strange tingling sensation began in her stomach, before traversing her body, like tiny shockwaves. She stared helplessly at the stream of red running down the pedestal, the splatters decorating the white stone floor as though a violent murder had occurred.

Blood.

Her blood.

Solveig’s mind was not her own. She fell deep into her memories. A patchwork of moments stitched crudely together by The Oracle.

Violins sang. Icy wind bit her skin as the iron rich scent of blood infiltrated her nose. All at once, her vision spun, tilting beyond sense and reason. The violins refrain became jumbled. Screams, shouts, and rattling coughs echoed through her mind. She was feverish and bitterly cold at the same time. There was happiness, though her heart speared with aching loss. No image, nor feeling held for more than a few seconds. Suspended in a maze of faces, sensations, and scents.

Round in circles, The Oracle spun her consciousness. Over and over. Her senses assaulted with the overload of memories being forced through her mind.

And then it stopped.

There was only silence.

And an image of herself. Lying in a pool of blood on the cold stone floor as she stared unseeing into the shadows that crowded the edges of her vision before they consumed her entirely.