Page 25 of The Oracle of Dusk

He knelt down, groaning against the pain, and pressed his fingers to her neck. A pulse. She was alive. His relief nearly drained the last dregs of his energy.

But what had knocked them off Neptune? He searched the dark cavern. Not a monstrosity, clearly. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have woken—he’d be dead. And in any case, neither Drakon nor a monstrosity could ever breach the mountain’s magical defences. He tried to think back to what it had felt like. Not a boulder or some other rocky bit of debris. It had been softer. A body? But everyone else had been obliterated. Perhaps part of a body.

Silvanus released a shaky breath, hollowed out by his guilt. He’d been warned a hundred times that using his wild magic in that way came with a cost. He was barely a person inside the Tapestry. Cold logic reigned supreme there, leaving his heart, his conscience, his soul, but a distant, vague tether he could easily ignore. Right and wrong were tossed aside in favour of utility and strategy. But no one could remain inside the Tapestry forever. Silvanus tried to swallow down his unease. He’d killed them all, used them like pawns on a chessboard. Every single one of them had loved ones. Families. Friends.

He couldn’t bear looking at Aurora, knowing he’d sacrificed her closest friend. She could never know what he’d done, or she would never forgive him, and any chance they had at ending Drakon would die along with her trust. Just one more secret he would be forced to keep, more lies he would need to speak in order to obey the will of the Triad.

He clenched his hands, nails biting into his palms hard enough to draw blood. He should have been kinder to Phaedra. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born into the imperial family with its cruel legacy, but every time he’d looked into her fierce, dark eyes, he could only see his people’s persecutor, their boogeyman. It was just as likely she would have become his executioner as his greatest ally. He wished he could see it again, the string that had connected them.

What happened to a red string of fate when the person you were destined for died? Did it become translucent, woven back into the Tapestry? He had to know. Silvanus dared to use his magic once more.

Surrounded by the magical threads of the Dragon’s Spine mountain, he instead focused on the threads that spread out from him. Every connection he’d made, past or present, unravelled from his core, stretching across the whole of Trisia. Friends, family, lovers, acquaintances, rivals, enemies—all were there, a web that, if he delved too deeply, connected him to every living person in existence. It might have taken days to sort through them all, but the one he sought was unmistakable—thick and red and attached directly to where his heart should be. He touched it, exploring the connection, more curious than mournful, courtesy of the Tapestry. Pain shuddered along it, foreign and strange to his senses.

This was not his hurt.

He tracked the string with his senses, his body following, walking in the physical plane. His boot hit an obstacle the same moment he found the other end of the string. Elation dragged him back to his body before he could ascertain how close she was to death. Silvanus doubled over as agony roared through him, dulled only by adrenaline. Phaedra was here, inside the mountain!

Shakily, he pressed his fingers to her neck, praying to all the gods, both tangible and intangible, that she yet lived.

Chapter 7

Phaedrawoketoabody made of shattered glass. Every breath was a cruel punishment. Pale, shimmering blue lights lit up the dark, and the echo of hooves on stone accompanied a sense of slow, steady movement. Tears clouded her vision as she dared move her head to the side. Aurora’s bruised, unconscious face met her own. She was breathing. Phaedra’s relieved sob ripped through her broken body. They were here together at the end of the world. She’d made it after all.

Phaedra sought Aurora’s hand, threading their fingers together.

How the actual fuck was anyone supposed to be a match for Drakon? The beast had unleashed a cataclysm of divine proportions. It had turned the desert into a volcanic explosion, replete with ash-choked air, molten rock raining down from the sky and fire so hot it melted everything it touched. How was anyone meant to stop that? How was anyone meant to survive? Phaedra couldn’t even dream of a power great enough to stop Drakon, except perhaps the Triad themselves. Trisia was doomed.

“Your Highness?” Silvanus asked.

“I’m awake,” Phaedra answered through gritted teeth.

“Try not to move. You broke numerous bones.”

“No shit.”

“We’re safe now. I’ll get us to a healer.”

“How? We’re inside a thrice-damned mountain.”

“There is a… settlement here.”

That didn’t sound suspiciousat all. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Can you… put me into a deep sleep?” she asked. She would give anything to escape back into blissful unconsciousness.

“I… no. But I can help.”

Silvanus limped to her side. Merciful Triad, he looked a fright. Bloody and bruised over every inch of visible skin. She supposed she looked worse. At least he could move. The look he gave her was inscrutable in the dim light.

“Try to keep an open mind, Your Highness.”

His crystal-clear blue eyes flashed and Phaedra’s blood ran cold. Gone were the eyes of a man. In their place—irises like faceted, glowing gems. Divine eyes. A power borne by the greatest villains in history. Meddlers in fate, trespassers in the sacred Tapestry.

“Monster,” she cursed.

He frowned, placing his hand on her forehead.

“Don’t fucking touch me! I’d rather choke on blood than get help from you.” Phaedra tried to shrug off his touch, but she was held immobile by the wreckage of her body. In this state, she couldn’t protect herself, never mind her best friend. She clutched Aurora’s hand tighter.

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