The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(32)
“I have seen what the Willows did to Mykaela. I’ve seen them turn away after her heartsglass was taken from her. I have seen her fight hard to live. She gives so much of herself and has suffered greatly in return. I no longer want to see her in pain. I want her to live the rest of her natural life in comfort, without the threat of the Dark sapping away at her soul. And as selfish as it may seem, I do not want to share the same fate she has already endured for so long.”
“You would not use shadowglass for yourself,” the oracle said, shaping her words with deliberate languidness, “but as a threat against the elders should they fall out of line. You would force the elders to relax their laws, to institute regulations that would lengthen your life spans. Blackmail.”
“Yes.”
The oracle bowed her head. Silence crackled between us for several seconds. The flames dipped lower, as if as troubled by my pronouncement as their mistress.
“It would be easy to carry out what shadowglass was intended for,” she said. “No magic, no asha. You can resume the life you led before you were conscripted to the cause, and your mentor could live and thrive. The elders you so despise would be deprived of their status and would no longer harm you or your loved ones. And yet you seek a middle ground, still unwilling to give up magic in its entirety.
“The elder asha refuse shadowglass—they crave magic for the dominance they exert on the kingdoms, and fear to lose what Vernasha of the Roses accomplished by cunning. The Faceless are willing, but they too will use shadowglass as Blade that Soars had and not as Hollow Knife desired, no matter their claims of worshipping Hollow Knife. But why do you hesitate?”
I closed my eyes. “Because without magic, I will lose my brother. Let the elders have their magic and their power plays. All I desire is my brother, here with me.”
“He is dead.”
“He’s the closest he will ever be to living.”
The oracle sighed, and from somewhere unseen came the sound of a chorus echoing her soft lament. “When shadowglass is created, with lightsglass and darksglass fused together, on the day you pluck the First Harvest from its sacred tree, your world as you know it shall end.”
“But I have no intention of using its—”
“What you intend does not matter. The Faceless have long hungered for shadowglass; they have cannibalized Hollow Knife’s words, bent and shifted them into their own making, so that his teachings matched their greed. Like Blade that Soars, they will take the magic left by the Creator and gift it onto themselves without thought. What they do not understand is that wearing seven daeva in their hearts will be worse than darkrot, and they will die from too much of the Dark before the year is out.
“The elders only seek to control, to incite fear in the hearts of those who wish to seek it out. The very thought of a world after shadowglass sends fear down their spines; it curdles their blood as it once did Vernasha’s. They were content to let the Faceless squabble over their share for as long as they retain hold of its secrets. You tread on dangerous ground between both, Tea.”
She had never called me by name before. “Are you telling me not to seek it out?”
“Use shadowglass to become like Blade that Soars—or follow Hollow Knife’s path. There is no middle ground, Tea. There is only a choice, and not even I know the right path to take.”
“I cannot live like this.” It was hard not to sound desperate. “I cannot live a life like Mykaela’s, forever sacrificing herself for a world that would not have blinked an eye at her death. I am selfish. I am not the compassionate woman she is. Sometimes I feel she is far too kind for her own good. I will serve the kingdoms, but not at the cost of my health. I do not want to wait until I am feeble and weak, able to do nothing but wait as the magic eventually takes its toll. I want the right to enjoy my old age as much as I do my youth. I want Mykaela to have that right. It is not fair.”
“When she was a young girl your age, Sakmeet came to me, just as distraught. She shared your fears, your hurt. I saw the same visions of her as I had of you. But while you control the azi, I saw her harnessing the zarich. Daeva can be gentled with lesser consequences to your heartsglass.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this before?”
“Twenty-seven visits to my chamber and still ignorant of why you come. For me to answer, you must first ask the question. Mykaela never did. As you said, she is far too compassionate for her own good. One daeva is adequate, but to command them all invites the same darkrot you fear. It is the same with shadowglass.”
“Then what else have you not told me?”
“There is nothing else to tell you.” The oracle turned away.
“Wait! What of my heartsglass? If you can see into the future, then surely you’ve seen what happens to it.”
“There is little to do. Black heartsglass is as much of you as it was when it had been silver. It is what you choose to do with it that matters most.” For the first time, I detected a trace of fatigue on her person, a faint tremble of her shoulders. “Now I am tired and wish to rest.”
I knew no amount of zivars or entreaties would move her at that point. So I stood and watched as the oracle departed to some unseen inner chamber, her head bowed as the flames sprung back to life, kicking up such a storm that it obscured her from my view. When the fire settled, she was gone, and with it, my last hope.