Page 28 of Skyshade
To stop the storms, they needed to find the portal and close it. She had gotten the answers they needed.
Now was the time to ask about her own fate.
“Did the prophet speak about my prophecy?” Part of her wanted to rip the book from her hands.
Eta seemed to sense that, because it suddenly vanished. “Yes, it’s all been written. You’ve been told all you need to know. Goodbye, Isla World-maker.”
No. She had so many more questions. Her hand flung out, forming an iron-clad vise around her wrist before she could leave. She looked up at her, eyes wide. In fear? No. In curiosity. “How long do I have to live?”
She shook her head. “That, I do not know. Only the augur might be able to tell you that.”
“The augur?”
Eta nodded. “He was one of us, once. Now, he lives deep in the woods, behind a curtain of water. He studies blood. He might be able to read yours and tell you how much time you have left.”
Studies blood. That made her more than a little uneasy, but she was desperate for information.
“What is his price?” She knew well enough now that just like power and portaling, information also came at a cost.
“Blood, naturally. I believe hearts are preferable.” She watched her, amused, but didn’t say anything about her people’s former curse.
Isla’s teeth dragged together. Her entire goal was to not kill another innocent, but she would find a way around that.
Eta’s wrist still in her unrelenting grip, she said, “My prophecy. Does it—does the book have anything about who I kill?”
The oracle had said that the choice was still in flux. She was just as likely to kill either ruler.
“No. Only that you will plunge a blade into another powerful heart, and it will mark the start of a new age.”
“Can it be changed? Is it possible that the prophecy is...wrong?”
Eta looked almost sad for a moment. She smiled weakly. “Every single thing that has been written in this book has come to pass.”
Her eyes burned. Her throat tightened. She released the prophet-follower’s wrist.
No. There—there had to be a way...she had to be wrong—
Her look was nearly pitiful. “A warning for you, Isla Harbinger. There is a traitor in your midst that would like to see you dead. One of your own.”
It was the last thing she was expecting to hear. “A Wildling?”
She nodded. “It is written. One of your own betrays you. One of your own has already struck against you.”
Betrayed her how? “What do you mean?”
“The nightbane, of course.”
The fields of dead flowers. Poisoned by a blight. “That was the storm.”
She shook her head. “The storm was used as a cover. A Wildling poisoned the flowers.”
A Wildling. That didn’t make sense. The nightbane benefitted everyone. Her people spent months cultivating it. Why would one of them destroy it?
“Find the traitor. Stop them, or they will be your ruin.”
“How do I find them?” she demanded.
“Follow the snakes.”
