Page 69 of The Myths of Ophelia
“The remaining thirty from the duel were each given a table of chalices and told to assess them. It was not only a test of their knowledge and precautionary thinking, but a way for the Prime Warrior to observe their cunning in the face of a timed challenge.” Tolek blew out a breath. “It was the first time Valyrie saw them unmasked. Heard their voices.”
“That’s rather sad.”
“Ruthless, as I said.”
I leaned forward again, looking at the scroll as if I’d be able to interpret it. “How many progressed from that game?”
Tolek scanned the notes in his journal. “However many selected the correct cups.”
And those who chose wrong…
I couldn’t harp on it. Didn’t have time to. “What was the final race?”
Tolek looked at me with a creased brow, as if seeing right through the defenses I was putting up, but he continued, “It doesn’t say, but we do know where it was and what it led to. Which brings us back to…”
He tapped the paragraph I’d initially asked about.
“Below ground where the dead rest,” I muttered, finger landing next to his on the worn parchment.
Tol nodded, dragging my hand along the line as he translated. “Only twelve would subsist the catacomb challenge, and with their survival, they forged an unending commitment to the Prime.”
For a breath, Angellight shimmered across my skin, its iridescence subtle in the jungle but burning through my spirit, tugging insistently at my gut.
“That’s where it has to be.” My gaze snapped up to Tolek’s. “Catacombs. We head to the catacombs once we get to Valyn. We bring strong fighters, we remain on guard, and we follow the tug of the Angelblood within me to look for a symbol of Valyrie’s Heart, using whatever else we learn from here”—I waved at the scroll and his notes—“to prepare.”
I withered at the consideration of the underground tombs and the things that may lurk down there, but I buried my fear lower than the corpses and let the heat of the Angellight seal it away, at least for now.
If we wanted answers, if we wanted to wrest control of our lives back from those who had refused to give us answers, we needed to do this.
“What have we learned from the coded scroll?” I asked, pushing to my feet and dusting off my hands. We had to return to the others and get moving.
Tolek rolled up the parchment, stowing it carefully away. “There’s a name repeated multiple times, though we don’t know who it is.”
“What name?”
“Echnid,” Tol said. He handed me a canteen to add to my pack.
“Do you think it’s one of the Fates?” I asked. “Since their names are only given to Starsearchers.”
“Could be.” Tol dragged a hand across his scruff, considering as we clamored up the bank and onto the jungle path. “There’s a lot of mentions of sacrificial stars and other ominous things in all three scrolls. The word Fatecatchers was used a few times in the final reading.”
“Fatecatchers?” I repeated.
Tol shook his head. “There’s no explanation for them. Or at least not one I’ve deciphered yet.”
He slipped into a tense silence, eyes narrowed on the branches above. Soon, our friends’ voices echoed from the road up ahead. Before Tol and I came into view, I grabbed his wrist. He turned his chocolate eyes on me, a brow raised as if to sayyes?
“Is something else bothering you?” I asked. “Besides the threats and mentions of sacrifices.”
His jaw ticked at the word, but he peeked around the trees, making sure the others were far enough not to overhear. “Lyria,” he admitted.
“What about her?”
“I’ve tried to talk to her a few times since she came back from Banix, but other than group gatherings, she’s been avoiding me. Mila said she won’t talk about the war, but I know it left scars.”
How could it not? “Do you want me to try to talk to her?”
“As a Revered?”
