Page 179 of The Myths of Ophelia
The toes of my boots met the line marking the entrance to the labyrinthine complex. Towering alabaster walls carved a perimeter around the gallery’s land, that shimmering gate designating the entrance ten feet on either side of where I stood.
Wrapping a hand around the bar, the presence of storied histories washed over my skin. A ghostly hand brushing across my own, a lingering hint of life.
“Do you feel it?” I whispered to Jezebel beside me.
She nodded minutely, setting her hand on the bar beside mine. “Must be our Soulguider blood.”
Though we never trained that heritage—couldn’t, given we chose the Mystique line—it would always flow through us. Weaker, butalive.
In the distance, deep within the heart of the complex, streams babbled. Those weren’t drinking waters, though. No, these streams were laden with magic. Much like the cyphers, the thin network of waters trickling through the land was a conduit. It bore spirits to their final resting places, weaving patterns through the deserts as they carved the sands.
And these—the Gates of Angeldust—were a well of that power.
It was intricate magic, details remaining private among the Soulguiders, but with simply the blood in our veins, that presence spoke to my sister and me.
I gazed up to the top of the gates, the metal sculpted like a pair of flourishing wings. And on either side, perched atop the stone walls, a carved woman’s head watched over the rising and falling dunes.
“Follow the sphinxes,” I muttered. They could have easily been female warriors if I didn’t know better.
Jezebel whispered, “There they are.”
Waiting for us. A clue from the constellations.
For a mile in any direction, all they saw was sand, streams, and scattered cyphers. An old defense from the age of Angels, leaving the land closest to the sacred site bare of dense hiding spots for any nefarious thieves or attackers.
But Lendelli, with its prosperous markets and packed rows of apartments, stretched beyond to the east. A steadfast of warriors providing another boundary.
Turning my back on the glimmering bars and sphinxes, I faced the group. They looked at me with determination in their eyes, weapons strapped to muscled bodies.
“I don’t know what will be waiting in there.” I summoned every bit of strength I could, used all the twisted rage Damien’s vague warnings sprouted within me. Deathly catacombs and platforms bursting in the sea flashed before my vision. “I won’t deny any of you who wish to come inside, but I want you to know what the possibilities are before you agree. We’ve lost good warriors to these trials.” My eyes landed on Mora. On the festering wound wrapped beneath her tunic. “Some have been gravely injured. Assuming we’re right, and this is where Xenique’s emblem is hidden, we’re likely to face very dangerous threats.”
“Actually,” Erista interrupted, clearing her throat, “the fae can’t come.”
“And why not?” Lancaster growled.
Erista straightened, curls bouncing as she flipped a sharp look on Lancaster. “I advise you watch your tone. You believe in the Goddess of Death, do you not?”
Lancaster and Mora both nodded. We all conveniently ignored a restrained Brystin as he mumbled beneath his breath.
Erista seemed to choose her next words carefully. “Then trust me when I say her magic is woven deeply into this earth. Partnered with Xenique’s, it ensures any enemy of the warriors who enters the gates will fall on their swords immediately.”
“The fae will die if they step foot inside?” Barrett asked, wide-eyed.
“Magic can be cruel when it comes toriddledthings” was all Erista said, her expression twisting.
I didn’t try to evaluate the haunting twist to her words or the way my sister looked questioningly at her.
“Mora,” Tolek said, digging in his pack, “can you wait out here and search the coded scroll for more patterns? We need to figure out if it’s giving away anything about the Ascension after what Vale read tonight.”
The female nodded dutifully and took the rolled parchment from Tol.
“The fae remain out here,” I said. “And a few of us will need to stay as their guards.”
“I’ll do it,” Cypherion offered. All of our heads whipped toward him.
“Are you sure?” He’d been hurt when I told him to escort Vale back to her territory rather than staying with us in the mountains for the final battle, pain flooding his blue eyes when he thought we felt he was unnecessary.
Now, though, his stare remained sure. Calm. And he said, “As your Second, I will guard the fae out here while you retrieve the emblem.”
