The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(102)
“Druj too went through the same trials I had at Stranger’s Peak—and failed. What were the gifts that mountain granted? Greater strength in the Dark—and the ability to look into the future. Perhaps Druj was better at prophecy than I am, with more years to hone her foretelling. Isn’t that right, Oracle?”
The figure removed her hood, revealing features only previously hinted at during my visits to the temple: long, flowing hair the color of corn silk, so light it was pale under the moonlight; bright-green eyes no longer hidden under a thick veil; pale, unblemished skin; a wide, lovely mouth. “I had hoped you would know me,” she said. Even out in the open air, a faint chorus of voices echoed her words.
“But how?” Likh stuttered. “I—we trusted you. Everyone in the Willows trusted you!”
“The trust has not been in vain, young Likh. My duty in the Willows was always to serve as a balance to the asha association. To ensure they did not go astray, did not go beyond their own selfish desires. It was a responsibility passed down to me from countless oracles who had served before, harkening back to the days of Vernasha herself.”
“Impossible!”
“Vernasha was our greatest asha, yet her greed was as deadly as her power. Many of her colleagues knew what she had tried to corrupt, the legends she tried to undo. But they too were weak. Magic was not a drug they could give up so easily, no matter their fear of damnation.
“But the strongest-willed of them, a Dark asha whose name had long since been lost to time, learned of the Gorvekai’s trial and sought to be worthy of shadowglass, only to fail as you and I had, Tea. But the trial imbued her with the powers of prophecy, and she knew one day there would be one worthy to fulfill Hollow Knife’s wish.
“And so she imposed a balance of sorts: by installing herself as an oracle, her precognition easily won Vernasha’s trust. But her purpose was different from the rest of the Willows; she would serve as a gatekeeper to shadowglass, to prevent the unworthy from attaining that knowledge, and to pass on these learnings to Dark asha brave enough to take her place as a new oracle. Bone witches died quickly even then, and it was simple enough to stage their deaths one day and resurface as a new incarnation of the oracle the next.
“Our veils and seclusion made for easy camouflage. We knew that one of us would eventually find favor at Stranger’s Peak, and it is she who shall remove the dishonor that all Little Tears’s descendants share.
“But there are many others who seek shadowglass. We soon found it easier to fight against them under the guise of another Faceless. And so we adopted the moniker of Druj, ‘the truth,’ as oracles before me had. We have many followers among the Willows, Tea, silent and unseen. Althy is my most trusted confidant. We hope to invite you into that same circle.”
“She is right, Tea, and you know it,” Althy added gently. “Mykkie was too weak without her heartsglass, and we could not risk her health to enlighten her to our cause. But when you arrived, the oracle took one look at you and knew you were worthy. She is never wrong.”
“She is wrong. I failed.” To gain shadowglass, Kalen would have paid the price. Even if they could bring Fox back to life without killing anyone else, I would have refused from that alone. “I am not worthy. I never was.”
The oracle—Druj—sighed, and unseen voices sighed with her. “Most Dark asha do not pass one test, let alone two. That you have is telling. The trial for Duty grants one the power of foretelling. The trial for Honor grants expanded abilities. But the third—the third trial is Love, isn’t it? No asha has ever passed it. It was always the last test we choose. Perhaps, instinctively, we know it would be the worst of the lot.”
Kalen growled.
Druj ignored him and continued, “I know your strength. I was within the zarich’s mind when you explored it, and in your fear, you killed it for my sin. I know how powerful you can be, Tea. I cannot allow a millennia of efforts by Dark asha who have slaved and sacrificed to come to naught. I have lost so many to the cause, so many Dark asha have gone mad and withered trying to reach this moment. The prophecy will be fulfilled, regardless of what you believe. We are so close. We are so close! We have angered the Great Creator for so long. We will not allow you to prolong our torment.”
We were six on the azi: the Dark asha and I; Lords Kalen, Fox, and Khalad; and the Lady Zoya, who insisted on coming despite all opposition. The flight to Drycht was brief. We bypassed the populated cities of the desert kingdom: Rasha, Karinsha, even my once-home, Adra-al. There were no other civilizations to the east of the continent; a slew of mountains surrounded the dried lands, unfit for living for several thousand years. There was a reason they call Drycht “the Impenetrable Kingdom.” If the harsh, unforgiving sun did not bake you dry, then the absence of water, runes or otherwise, made death long and lingering.
We flew past the Dry Lands and into the Ring of Worship: a mountainous posy of craggy peaks and unscalable heights that protected a small, barren circle of sand. There was little that could be called life there; nothing but tiny, horned lizards and unhealthy shoots of brown moss. An unknown cataclysm—Vernasha perhaps, as Lord Garindor believed and Agnarr claimed—had corrupted what history swore was a lush, fertile greenscape, and four of the Five Great Heroes had met their ends here. How, no one had ever been certain.