Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(84)

There were no words to describe how she felt. Her entire being was suffused with such love, tenderness, compassion—yet those words were insufficient. Language wasn’t suitable for what she had experienced. Not even the greatest poet in the realm could have articulated it. It left her breathless, heaving quiet sobs as her emotions swelled to the point of bursting and beyond.

Cruix Abbey entered the rift. Cettie dug her fingers into Sera’s arms as the power built to a crescendo of sorts. Then the fold closed in on itself, the petals closing, and the vision came to an end.

“No, no!” Sera wept, not wanting it to be over already.

The fold closed to a single point of light, a star that shone brighter than any other. It was so white hot it made her wince, yet she could not tear her eyes from it. That single point, blazing through the expanse, sent down a shaft of light that struck the ruined ground where they knelt. Both Sera and Cettie lifted their arms to cover their heads, their joy replaced by a jolt of sudden terror. Then the star was gone.

And they were no longer alone.

Sera saw three personages standing a few paces from them. The one in front was a middle-aged man with a heavy paunch and waistcoat, breeches, and a gnarled staff with a golden knob at the top. Behind him stood a man with silver hair and a sword and scabbard belted to his tunic. Next to that man stood a radiant woman whose eyes glimmered like the stars above. Her gown was of a different time.

“Well done, little sisters,” said the foremost man, coming forward at a quick pace. The other two, flanking him, did the same. “Well done indeed. Let me introduce myself, Your Majesty. That would be proper given the circumstances. My name is Maderos. I’m sometimes called Myrddin as well. This was not the first time the false priest of Toussan and his instrument have needed to be thwarted. When he was learning to be a sexton at a sanctuary, he discovered a hidden book that quickly corrupted him.” He looked at Cettie and bowed his head. “Well met again, my friend.”

“I know the two men,” Cettie murmured softly. “They serve the Mysteries.”

The woman spoke next. “My name is Sinia,” she said in a beautiful voice.

Sera gaped. “Lady Sinia? Of Brythonica?”

The stately woman smiled and bowed her head slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I am Owen Kiskaddon,” said the silver-haired man.

“He’s the one who saved me,” Cettie whispered. She bowed her head to all three and made a gesture of reverence.

“Tusk,” said Maderos. “We are your fellow servants. Please . . . stand. There is much you need to know and little time in which to tell it. The mirror gates between the worlds will break asunder soon. You must be warned.”

Sera wanted to rise, but she only had the strength of a newborn kitten. Holding on to Cettie, she tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t allow it.

Lady Sinia approached them both and gently placed her hands on their heads. “Anthisstemi exulpo,” she said, and strength filled Sera once again, allowing her to rise on her own. Cettie rose as well, and the two huddled close to each other.

“Thank you,” Sera said. She stared at the otherworldly beings. Maderos, Sinia, Owen—these were legends from the past. She’d heard about them from Trevon during their time together. Stories from a bygone age of kings and vassals and epic battles.

“If you would, Lady Sinia,” Maderos said, gesturing for her. “She may hear it better coming from you.”

Sera noticed that Sinia wore an old, pitted key on a strap attached to her girdle. She had long blond hair, smooth and flawless, and a kindness that radiated from the depths of her person.

“You are the Lady Sinia from the stories?” Sera said, shaking her head in wonderment. “The Duchess of Brythonica?”

“I am,” Sinia replied. “I came to this abbey many centuries ago and left a prophecy for you.”

“I was the one you spoke of, then?”

Sinia smiled. “Yes. In my former life, I was a harbinger. One who is blessed with visions of the future. Or the past. Like your friend,” she added, nodding to Cettie. “I saw that the day would come when Ereshkigal would need to be released from her prison.”

The words caused Sera’s heart to flutter with dread. The entire mountaintop had been wrenched loose, but the Leering was still there, steaming, roiling, seeming about to burst.

“Was I supposed to release her, then?” Sera asked in confusion.

Sinia caressed her cheek. “Not then. Now.”

“Help me understand,” Sera said, shaking her head.

“You did your duty well, daughter of Maia. When Ereshkigal was bound, it was for a fixed time. The first empress knew that the day would come when she would be released from her prison. When she would seek revenge on the empress’s family and persecute believers. You are the one foreseen to come, Sera. Your time to rule was chosen a thousand years before you were born.”

“A thousand years?” Sera gasped.

“That was the duration of her confinement. What was foretold by harbingers since the days of the first noble kings. A vision seen by the First Father himself.”

“But why release her?” Sera asked, staring at the Leering with growing horror. “Why not destroy her?”

Sinia gave her a knowing smile. “She will be destroyed, Sera. But not yet.” She put her hand on Sera’s shoulder. That simple comforting gesture was more than her own mother had ever given her. “Someone else will face her . . . and destroy her. I’ve seen it. If you do not free her now, she’ll return stronger, after the one who is meant to dispatch her is already dead. I know what is being asked of you, Sera, but these travails you have endured—and endured so well—will give you the strength to become the empress you were meant to be.”