Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(36)

Tentatively, I looked for the place inside me with its own darkness so unlike his. A false sense of peace washed through me when I found that nightlike river of magic. I loosed my hand from his and took his forearm to let the blood on my wrist smear on his skin, giving my magic a connection to grasp his. My heart beat in my ears like a drum.

An expression of peace and bliss came over Leozoar’s face. My Sight made it easy to see the magic that comprised him, the strengths and the weaknesses, the threads I could pull to unravel it. He was held together so tenuously, and the darkness beckoned to him.

Carefully, I pulled on his power, drawing into myself the magic that wove together his very being. Absorbing his power felt like submerging myself in an icy lake. Remnants of his anger snatched at my conscience and tried to convince me his feelings were mine. The part of me ruled by him wanted to do terrible things. His magic surged wildly inside me. It took everything I had not to use his power to pull out my knife and make the future into a twisted nightmare as dark as the broken pieces of his soul.

But I could also feel what he had once been—a demigod with the same whimsical spirit as Hal. A person who had loved someone so completely he’d given centuries of life to protect his legacy. Someone who had loved Veric as I had loved Ina: without reservation or compromise.

I bent the magic to my will until it coursed through me quick as the wind, vibrant and powerful as the hum of life itself. Instead of holding on to it, I channeled as much as I could directly into the land, into the place that had belonged to him and Veric. The sunlight pouring through the windows intensified, and a final gust of wind swept through the cave, carrying centuries of dust and grime with it. The land itself seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and the oppressive sadness of the cave relented.

My hands were empty and Leozoar was gone.

Without him, the Sanctum took on the peace of any other abandoned space. Channeling his magic left me refreshed and humming with energy, as if some of his power still lingered in me. I unfolded the folio from the dais and read the words within.

If you retrieved this letter, your blood is my blood. You found this place because fate led you here—fate written in my hand to lead you to the gift that will make it possible for your life to end in a better way than mine. Humans endlessly twisted and shaped my blood and magic to create enchantments for their own ends. They begged me to change their fates until I had nothing left to give, so I used the last of my blood to create the Fatestone.

Worn by a mortal, the Fatestone would be simply an amulet of eternal life, but it was not created for that purpose. A demigod with my powers is the only one who must use it—the heir whose blood is able to dispel the protections on these pages, the one who will lift the Fatestone from its place of safekeeping in Atheon.

The Fatestone protects against the cost our gift demands. It gives a bloodscribe the power to make right what has been wrong—to correct the path of darkness, to bring light to the world and life, all without the suffering of aging before one’s time.

May it serve you well.

—Veric Pirov

I nearly dropped the booklet in shock. My throat went dry. I shouldn’t have released Leozoar before I could ask more questions. The enchantments Veric spoke of—those had to be the same ones Miriel had taught me. How to use my blood to augment potions. How to paint a bit of it on her skin to give her some of my passive gifts. But the Fatestone? That I’d never heard of until Hal mentioned it as the amulet his sister was looking for. I pawed through the chamber in the dais, but it was empty. I reread Veric’s letter. Where was Atheon? I’d never heard the word before, and although I’d never left home, I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with Zumordan geography. Even with so many questions remaining unanswered, all my paths of thought led to the same conclusion.

The Fatestone had been made for me. Veric was indeed my half brother, born and dead centuries before me. This letter and the Fatestone were the only true legacy I had.

But more important than that, if I found Veric’s Fatestone, not only could I shape the future without succumbing to the ravages of age—I would be able to change the past without sacrificing my life.

I could make it so that bandits had never destroyed Amalska.

I could return Ina’s innocence.

I could undo the mistake I’d written in my blood.

My anger and grief took a more powerful form: determination.

I had to find the Fatestone and start our story over.





CHAPTER 15


THE SUN SAT LOW OVER THE TREES BY THE TIME I exited the Sanctum. Instead of the sweeping gales that had greeted me when I first arrived, only gentle breezes teased at the grass on the escarpment now that Leozoar was gone. I worked my way back down through the cave with Veric’s letter snugly tied in my belt sash. The booklet held my only shard of hope, and the last of the answers lay just beyond my fingertips. I only needed to figure out where Atheon was. And if I could get this far from my hometown and keep myself in one piece, conquer a corrupted demigod, and talk my way out of trouble with the Tamers—I could do it.

Hal must have heard me coming, for he stood outside the cave as I emerged, just out of reach of the waterfall’s mist. The Tamers were nowhere in sight. The sun slowly impaled itself on the sharp tops of the trees, giving Hal’s dark-brown skin a warm glow. Gratitude swelled in my breast. After what had happened with Ina, I suppose I had half expected him to leave me, too. He owed me nothing.