Page 61 of The Shadowed Oracle
“When was this?” Ingrid asked. “When did the first Magus start killing off humans? Wouldn’t I—or anyone on Earth have heard about it?”
Tyla raised an incredulous eyebrow. “You’d like to think so. Yet, look at the history of our world. Genocide, countless massacres, wars, plagues. So much death, so much violence. The Magus’ terror blended right in. It was almost too easy.”
Ingrid saw the thick threads as if they were hovering over her. “So the Oracle,” she said. “Izadora. She saved them? She saved the humans??”
“Eventually.” Tyla gave a nod that turned into a small shrug. “But at first, she sat back and let The Magus take these drasticmeasures, seeing it as yet another spin of the cycle, a lesson her descendants would learn from. She only stepped in when The Magus went too far. When he’d already killed or converted most of Ealis to his cause and religion, and still the destruction of Earth raged on. The scourge on the forests and drought of the rivers and seas continued, too. That was when Izadora realized he wouldn’t stop. He’d continue lying to his people. Lying to himself.”
It was familiar.Almost exactly what Dean had accused Makkar of. Using religion and fear to drive his agenda, his thirst for power.
“The Magus wouldn’t stop.” Tyla planted a hand on the windowsill, tapping her fingers nervously. “He and his allies simply ignored the lack of results. Too mad to see reason.”
“And Makkar is madder,” Dean blurted out, as if his rage didn’t allow him to keep silent any longer. “Too blind to realize he’s not finishing the job his predecessor started, he’s only repeating his mistake. That ancient tyrant was lost, sick. And he’d never stop unless the only being alive that could stop him did it for him. The Oracle.”
Ingrid had already connected the pieces, but she waited, just in case she was wrong—and oh, how badly she wanted to be wrong.
“Since Karis is gone, you’ve probably guessed this last bit.” Dean flashed a reluctant smile like he was apologizing. “You’re probably the only chance history will have to repeat itself. The only hope for the Magus, Makkar, to be defeated.”
Silence, cold and unnerving fell over the room.
“How do you know I’m the last one?” Ingrid managed to ask. “Are you telling me this is some kind of—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, so it hung there on the tip of her tongue. She hardly believed in fate, let alone some kind of divine path set out for her.
No. This was not some prophecy they were relaying. This was only a rational conclusion drawn from the past. Her history books had taught her that the only guarantee in life was death, and man’s propensity to speed along death’s calling. But those same books had also taught her something else, albeit not so blatantly—history tended to repeat itself.
She dodged the conclusion starting to set in and repeated, “How can you be completely sure I’m the last Oracle?”
“We aren’t certain,” Tyla said, seeming about as confident in the idea of a pre-ordained path as Ingrid was. “But Karis was certain. He spent his whole life, that’s over three hundred years, mind you, trying to find another Oracle. But he didn’t.”
“Nope. That accolade belongs to Dean.” Raidinn looked to his friend with a jutting smile. “Hefound you.Hekept hope alive. All because he needed a little drink to take the edge off.” Another emphatic shake of his head. “Fucking hell, I still can’t get over it. I don’t know what’s more unbelievable. The fact that you were hiding under Karis’s noseallthat time, or that the fate of humanity still has hope because Dean Crassus needed a hit of cheap whiskey.” Catching himself, he swiveled to meet Ingrid’s eyes. “But uhh, you know, no pressure or anything. Like we said, we’ll help as best we can.”
“Thanks.” Ingrid’s face beamed with a nervous smile, and she left it at that. How else could she react? How was someone supposed to react, being told all this? The idea that a drink-slinger from San Bruno was the last of an immortal, magic-wielding race responsible for saving the world—or, rather,worlds. Was she supposed to feel exhilarated? Was duty and purpose meant to set her heart ablaze, roused for a fight she only very recently learned was going on?
No. Hell no.All Ingrid felt was a slight deviation from what she’d felt most her life. Pure, raw rage. The only difference was, where that sentiment had always felt aimless in her past, lashingout at whatever stepped in her way, it now felt concentrated. Focused.
She had names for all her fury. Names for the people keeping her from freedom, keeping her from achieving that elusive solitude she’d always sought. Makkar. The Tyrant. Sylan. The Bastard. It became a violent mantra willing her on.
“So, what’ll it be?” Raidinn asked nonchalantly.
Ingrid shook off the surging, vengeful thought and slowly turned her gaze to his. She felt like slapping him across the face, yet at the same time, couldn’t help smiling.
“What’ll itbe?” she asked mockingly.
“Yeah. What’ll it be, love?” He picked at his nails, shrugging. “You want to save the world and all that? Or should I, what was it you said? Go find a little corner to hide in?”
Tyla reached over and flicked her brother’s earlobe so hard that an almost girlish squeal came out of him.
“What did I do now?” he asked
“You could ask a little nicer!”
“Oh…” Raidinn rubbed at his ear. “Alright, alright. Ingrid, would you like to save the world with us? Please?”
Ingrid stared out at the strange and novel world before her, so different and far away from the place she’d until yesterday called home, and said, “Sure. Not like I have many choices anyway.”
Chapter Twenty
The cabinthey’d taken shelter in was another safe house set up by Karis and Dean’s mother, Gianna. Although it was far less armored than the house holding the portal, it was strategically placed at the bottom of a short valley, between two hills and covered by the strangest trees Ingrid had ever seen—sprouting sideways from surrounding knolls to create a sort of umbrella, shielding them from prodding aerial eyes.
The interior was about as minimal as the one on Earth, save for the living room, which was full of richly colored upholstery and curtains, beautifully carved wood and stained glass windows, and a fireplace in the center. Shadows of the flame flickered over a lush animal-skin rug just below it.
