Page 18 of Silvercloak

Saffron had to tread very carefully.

The five foundational prophecies had been cast a thousand years ago, when the Foreseer class of magic was far more common—and more celebrated.

In the first prophecy, the Augur Amuilly foretold that a new magical class, the Timeweavers, would rise with a terrifying power in their blood. The people and the Crown would delight in the promise of what this gift represented. A chance to undo fatal mistakes that led to war and tragedy, a chance to remake the world in line with their own whims and desires.

This had come to pass.

The second prophecy, cast by the Augur Nos, said that with all this cavalier writing and rewriting of time, the fabric of the world wouldwear thin and eventually fray. That mages with opposing views would force a moment back and forth through the great loom of the world, changing the outcome over and over again, until that moment—and all the mages inside it—ceased to exist at all.

This had come to pass.

The third prophecy, cast by the Augur Vaurient, said that most mages would be seduced by this new power, desperate to claim a piece of it for themselves, and that only the bravest would remain faithful to the Augurests’ true purpose—eradicating Timeweavers altogether, in order to save the world from accidental destruction. There would be a slaughter, but a necessary one.

This too had come to pass.

The fourth prophecy, cast by the Augur Emalin, said that the devout Augurests would emerge triumphant, but a few ancestral lines of Timeweavers would slip through the cracks, and the Augurests would have to remain vigilant for centuries, awaiting the second uprising, ensuring they slaughtered every last one.

This had not yet come to pass.

The last big purge of Timeweavers had happened long before Saff was born. No stones were left unturned in the quest to eradicate the ancestral lines once and for all. Not even the highborn were spared—the entirety of House Rezaran, one of the four royal houses in Vallin, was slain outside the Palace steps.

No Timeweavers had surfaced anywhere in the world for centuries. There had been no second uprising.

“Maybe the prophecies are factually true,” Saffron said carefully. “Three have already come to pass, I suppose. I just don’t believe in executing innocent mages, no matter what they’re capable of. We should have found a way to legislate and regulate timeweaving instead.”

“Timeweavers will unmake the world,” Aspar barked, thumping a fist on the Divine Augurtures like a judge hammering a gavel.

Saff met her captain’s blazing eyes. “For all we know, they’ll remake it soon after.”

The fifth and final prophecy, by the Augur Sarcane, had been long lost. Nobody knew how the foretelling actually ended, although plentyof evangelists had “found” forgeries in forgotten temples. In the past thousand years, countless relic wands had been worshipped, fondled, coaxed, and caressed, trying to uncover that vanished prophecy. To no avail.

Aspar looked up at the ceiling, as though the final prophecy was playing across her own mind’s eye. When she spoke, it was cool, quiet. “Imagine, if you will, a world where everyone and everything you’ve ever loved can be undone. Including yourself. Imagine a mage so powerful that they could go back and make it so that you never existed at all. Does that not terrify you?”

“I guess it just feels like a fairy tale,” Saff admitted.

“I see. And do you think there’s a place for devout Augurests, like myself, in the Order of the Silvercloaks?”

Saffron stilled, weighing her thoughts. Truthfully, she didn’t think anyone with a eugenic agenda should be in a position of power, but she had read enough of Aspar’s passionate manifestos to know that her captain believed the Order of the Silvercloaks was the best placeforAugurests.

After all, imagine a world in which criminals could become uncaught? Imagine a world in which kingpins and killers could wind back the clock again and again until their nefarious plans unfolded according to their wishes?

To that Saffron might counter:Imagine a world in which Silvercloaks could wind back the clock until theydidcatch their marks.

Imagine a world in which I had never turned that Saints-damned doorknob.

“I believe in religious freedom,” Saff replied steadily.

The captain leaned forward, almost hungrily. It unnerved Saffron, and she was not an easy person to unnerve.

“Did you see anything when you touched that relic wand?” Aspar searched Saff’s face, as though studying an ancient map. There was an intensity to the stare that Saffron couldn’t parse.

“No,” lied Saffron easily. “It’s just a replica, isn’t it?”

There was a loaded beat. Then, “Yes. Just a replica.” Aspar closed the Divine Augurtures, as though to signal the resolution of their theological debate. “Now, onto the next order of business. Where did you learn thepraegelosenchantment?” Aspar’s gaze was blade-edged. “It’s a maligned spell.”

“I read it in a book of fables.” The second lie slid off Saff’s tongue instinctively. “Why is it maligned?”

“Too reminiscent of timeweaving.”

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