Page 64 of The Trials of Ophelia

This opened up so many more questions. I picked one to start. “Did it say anything?”

“It was screaming—roaring—like it was as surprised as we were and couldn’t get its bearings. And then it kept saying one thing: I wake, I wake, I wake.”

“I wake,” I mumbled.

She nodded. “I haven’t been able to figure out what it means. When Erista was in Damenal, we searched for answers every day.” Another kernel of understanding—where she kept disappearing to all those weeks. “I even went to the Spirit Volcano a few times, trying to find answers.”

“Jezebel, you can’t,” I gasped. A warrior could only go into the volcano twice: once for the Undertaking, and once for their death.

“I didn’t go in.” She shook her head. “Just…listened. Tried to speak to them.”

“Could you?”

“Only the dying.” I saw the Palerman memories shudder behind her eyes, again. And then, my heart cracked with another realization.

“The Battle of Damenal?” I asked quietly.

“The worst day of my life.” She swallowed, lips trembling. “I heard…all of them.” A deep breath, like she was gathering confidence. “Father…”

My chest caved under what she’d had to experience that day. Hearing our father’s spirit as it left him.

“He said goodbye,” she continued, and I didn’t know how she wasn’t sobbing in my arms at the memory. “He said he loves us and he’s proud of us. Reminded us to protect each other.”

That nearly undid the last restraint I had on my own tears, but I forced them back. For him, for her, I held myself together.

“I’m glad I got to hear it,” she admitted, and there was a peaceful smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I got to hear him say goodbye. To promise him we would protect each other.”

I supposed that was the blessing in it.

“Did he know?”

She shook her head. “I never told him. I wanted to, but there was never a time. Or…that’s what I kept telling myself.” I understood; I had done the same with my own curse. “I regret it now.”

“Me, too,” I said quietly, gripping her hand.

“I told Grandmother, though.” Jezebel livened a bit, voice pitching up. “When she was in Damenal for the induction, I told her everything.”

“Did she have any sage advice?”

“No, but”—her brows creased—“I think she already knew.”

A shiver worked through me, but I understood. Our grandmother’s predictions devolved sporadically with age, but still, some of them had to hold true. Her clan could see where a person’s soul would end up. If Jezebel could communicate with spirits, it was safe to say this power would hold influence on her life’s path.

I only hoped, if our grandmother saw it, it didn’t mean it would lead to an early end.

Shoving aside the morbid thought, I asked, “So, what happened today?”

“I…reached for the serpent.” Jezebel frowned, brows pinching. “Everything was going wrong. That thing nearly killed you and Tolek, the Seawatchers were gone, and the second one was about to take out both Cyph and Vale. I didn’t even think; I lashed out and grabbed on to the alpheous’s spirit.”

“But it was already dead.” She’d said she could only speak to those who were dying.

“It takes a while for a spirit to leave a body,” she explained. “Even longer because that thing was so large. I could still hear it.”

“And you told it to attack the other?”

She shook her head. “No, I did that. Somehow—and I can promise you this has never happened before—I controlled the dying alpheous and used it to attack its friend.”

I tilted my head. That added a new layer to her power. Nerves slipped into her voice as she explained it.

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