Page 163 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“Alcohol first, missing limb second,” he yawns his words, and his finger falls to the bed.

A few seconds later, he snores.

Chapter 33

Remember The Pact of Our Youth

LUCIAN

The fatta scorpion is not only deadly. In old Irisan, the venom possessed in its stinger was called filumaniram. Roughly translated to shredder of souls.

– HISTORY AND CORENTHS BY JJ ARIST (UNPUBLISHED)

Black, blue, red.

Green, gray, purple.

I push the vision from me with the last bit of wit I have to offer. Occasionally, there are Lucents who can invoke their own visions–forcing themselves to see the future. We call them Seers. That’s what I am. However, I was a smart enough child to not let Lusia and Labyrinth know that.

I’ve never used this power for fear of them discovering it.

Only now, all I want to know is the end of whatever I could call this phase of my life. The end of the weapon, Soma’s involvement, the Arcanes, and Isa.

The end of Desdemona, even though that is the only thing I do not want there to be an end to.

There isn’t one—not explicitly. All I have on this canvas is a jumble of colorful shadows, all still against a backdrop of swarming black figures.

I’m not supposed to be in my art room. The entire academy has been sent into lockdown in their suites. Meaning the halls are desolate, and I’m surprised that Soma hasn’t sent the finest guards to the academy. Because it is their academy, after all.

A droozen Leiholan hasn’t even been assigned hall watching. Not that he and his sword could do much when he’s filled up on vesi. Perhaps I should have a drink. Sounds a better idea than any as I walk back to my suite.

Back in my room, bottle in hand, Azaire walks in. We haven’t exactly spoken on more than a surface level since I tortured Freyr, who is still in the dungeon below the school.

It’d be a shame if a corenth got to him before I got answers out of him.

“Can I have some?” Azaire sits on the floor, leaning against the wall haphazardly.

“Certainly.” I give him the bottle.

He takes a chug longer than any I’ve seen from him, belching after and looking thoroughly shocked by himself. Passing it back to me, he says, “I think Wendy is going to break up with me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“She came in asking me about the amulet she gave me,” he says, as though it’s all the explanation in the worlds.

“I don’t follow.”

“The lockdowns are because of the corenths.” Yes, that much was obvious. “She fought the one that got past the barrier.”

“I still don’t follow.”

He swipes at his eyes, slowly. “It was the way she was talking. The amulet she gave me is some sort of token of protection and—” he wipes his eyes again. “She wasn’t telling me something. There were gaps in her story and–and… she still hasn’t told me she loves me.” Azaire’s sigh is long and certainly heavy. “It’s not that. I don’t think that she doesn’t… love me, you know? I just don’t think she believes in me the way I do her.”

I take the bottle away from my lips and the room spins ever so slightly.

“Can I have some more?” he asks.

“Be my guest.” The bottle is in his hand again. “Look, I’m the last person you want relationship advice from. But perhaps you should talk to her.”

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