Page 47 of The Coven of Ruin
“You’ve resorted to cursing a piece of parchment?”
She tilted her head up to look at Ares. He had propped his elbows on the desk and was watching her curiously.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve spent the last five nights writing down every possible translation I could think of. And still, none of it makes any sense.”
“So knowing the language, or most of it, isn’t enough?”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Even knowing it is encoded, you are still looking at it like it is just two languages. That’s your problem.” He leaned back, twirling his quill easily through his fingers.
“If you think I’m doing it wrong, you’re welcome to find another witch to torment.”
“I rather enjoy tormenting the one I have.”
Trista’s glare did nothing to disrupt his unbothered expression. As she stared at him for a long moment, though, she realized he was right. She had been looking at it like it was merely two languages combined when they had created an entirely new language just for them. As if he had read her thoughts, he smirked before returning to his work.
She spent another two hours looking at the missive afresh. Using the words of the magic-filled language as a key to solve it, she found new meanings unfolding. When she read the short message back to herself, it finally made some sense.
Sitting up straighter, she looked up at Ares, who was already watching her. Though he most certainly did not emit a calming energy, he at least would talk back to her. “Tell me if this makes any sense to you.”
He motioned for her to continue.
“Void keep or hold you,” she read, pausing to say, “I feel like that is a greeting, though an odd one.” She cleared her throat and continued, “Imprisoned in the pit. Kill the Wise One. He knows.”
“It’s may Khaos keep you,” Ares corrected, his brow furrowed.
“What is meant by Khaos?” She recalled the masked mages shouting, ‘Khaos swallow you whole’ in Ares’ memory.
“The father and the mother. The void from which all else sprang. Begot life and death, and all between.” He recited it as if it was something he had been told long ago.
“A god?”
Ares stood, his form casting a shadow over the parchment she studied. “A primordial being, more an idea or place than a formed god, so we thought.”
“What do they want?”
He was about to reply, but she already knew what he would say. Rolling her eyes, she mocked his deep voice, “A truth for a truth, witch.”
Trista thought he may laugh as his features softened for just a moment. But it was replaced quickly with his usual expressionless mask. “That was the missive I handed to you at the tournament?”
“Yes. Do you understand it? It is the most sense I have made out of it so far.”
“I do,” he said evenly.
The thrill of solving the puzzle filled her chest with a warm bubble of elation that she hadn’t known since the Akeso. “Now that I know how it is done, I think the other ones will be easier,” she said as she grabbed up the second missive and unfurled it. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing the effort of research pay off.
“That’s enough for the evening, witch.”
“I’m so close though and—” His expression was stoic enough it gave her pause. “What about my truth in return then?”
Tilting his head thoughtfully, he finally nodded. “We won’t be here tomorrow. You’ll get some answers in two days. You’re coming with us.”
“Where?”
“To the Durge Pits.”
A crashing sound and a barked curse in the hall had Trista freezing in place. She knew her eyes were wide in panic, but Ares merely crossed his arms over himself and watched the door. A moment later, it burst open, causing her to jump.
