I shift my weight from one foot to the next, listening to the floorboards creak. “What if I can’t do this? What if I’m not strong enough?”
She squeezes my arm gently. “You are already strong enough, Illyria. You just have to believe it.”
I close my eyes, wishing I had never come here. “I won’t let them die,” I whisper.
“There is nothing you can do to stop it. You may be able to prolong it, but some day one of them will die to fulfill their role.”
I step back from her grasp and shove my hands deep into my pockets. “You told me I have this power to control Ether, whatever that is. If there has never been anyone like me before, how do you know I can’t change our fate?”
Sariana’s smile is filled with tenderness as she clasps her hands before her. Against her silver robes, her skin no longer looks pale, but warm and filled with golden color. “If there is anyone who can defy the fates, it is you, but I urge you to be careful.”
Her warning gives me reason to pause. I turn back from the door. “What haven’t you told me?”
She looks toward the back room. “There is more to the prophecy. I did not think you would want Bastien to hear of it.”
I walk back toward her. “Tell me.”
She nods and disappears behind the cloth curtain. I can hear books tumbling off shelves, clattering carelessly to the floor by her feet. A cloud of dust puffs out of the room. She stumbles out, wafting her hand before her face as she coughs.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She chokes, shaking her head. “I hadn’t realized how disgusting it was back there. Poor eyesight and all that.”
Tucked under her arm is a dark-blue leather-bound book, far smaller in size than the one she originally read from. Nearly small enough to fit within a pocket. A blanket of cold settles over me as she opens the book and I see pages of darkly scrawled jagged symbols. They look angry somehow.
“What is this?”
“My diary.” She blows on the book and unsettles a thick layer of dust. She thumbs through, licking her finger each time before she turns the page. Her lips flutter with whispered words as her eyes scan rapidly across the page.
“Not long after I had the first vision, another hit me. I was afraid of what might happen if I added it to the Book of Testimony. If this were to fall into the wrong hands…” She trails off and casts a furtive glance toward the door. I can only faintly hear Bastien’s pacing steps punching through the snow. He must be freezing out there. “I saw you, a power of unspeakable horror, capable of bringing entire worlds to their knees. A tyrant to replace Aloysius, beautiful and savage.”
I don’t have to close my eyes to remember the vision of blood and death that touched me a year ago. Bodies lay scattered at my feet. My friends’ lifeless eyes staring at me from great funeral pyres. I blink away the image. “How does this happen?”
Sariana sets aside the book and approaches me. “There is a darkness within you that wants to be free. You have heard its voice, felt its need. You harnessed it when you attacked Thalar and battled Drakon, but it isn’t gone. Your hair is a reminder of that. Do not forget how volatile you can be when you’re upset. Anger and sorrow are when you are strongest. The death of a loved one could prove disastrous for us all.”
“So both prophecies are true?”
“Yes. They are possible outcomes, but one thing is certain… One will happen. It is up to you which path you choose.”
“No pressure, then,” I mutter. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hold myself together.
It is almost too much to take in. Eamon and Bastien are brothers. My love for both of them makes sense now, but knowing the truth doesn’t make it any easier. Someday I will lose one of them. I can’t bear the thought of that. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Who knows what fate has planned for us?” She walks me to the door. “Bastien needs you. Be there for him.”
I can only imagine what Bastien must be feeling right now, to discover a long-lost brother and know he has lost everything because of him. And Eamon… he doesn’t even know yet.
“I’m not sure I can,” I whisper to myself as I open the door and step into the blizzard.
Twelve
The winds buffet against us, stealing my breath away as I stumble after Bastien. I can barely make out the shape of his back even though I’m only a couple feet from him. “We have to get out of this storm,” he shouts back to me, cupping his hands about his face.
It is hard to walk. The snow is up to my calves, blowing into swells. I stumble, unable to see the uneven terrain below. My legs are nearly numb, my toes without feeling. I’ve tucked my hands into the sleeves of my coat, but they feel as if I’ve left them bare to the elements.