Page 73 of Tides of Shadows

“The fourth is already born,” he said slowly. “We just don’t know who he or she is.”

Disbelief moved from face to face.

“That is why the Plague strikes ever nearer,” he said. “The balance is broken, and only the four can restore it.”

“How are you certain?” Lord Orthalis asked, cool and leaning forward. “What tells you the fourth has come?”

Father sighed.

“My wife’s visions.” Several lords groaned in doubt. “All signs agree. Ask the astrologers what transpires in the night sky. The wandering stars have aligned in a specific constellation. The last to rise was Aetheris.” He glanced at the star map on the wall, where silver lines bound four sigils: Pyrrhos, Gaia, Thalassa, Aetheris. Then he looked to Aidenar, whom he deemed the last change.

“Very well,” another lord said, uncertain. “Say we find the fourth. What then?”

“Then we have four youths, each bearing an element. And what? Are they supposed to vanquish all monsters with a wave of their hand?” someone at the far end muttered.

Father’s gaze grew flint-hard.

“We do not know yet how to break the Plague,” he said. “But without the four we have no hope at all.”

Murmurs returned.

“We must find the old element temples,” he added. “Each Family had its own, each made a sacrifice within its own walls. Power still smolders in the ruins. Only there may we find the prophecy in full.”

He took a map of the Dominium and unrolled it upon the table.

“Most temples lie broken, but their forces still breathe. If there is any chance, we must reach as many as we can.”

The lords whispered among themselves until Victor lifted his voice again.

“As for the fourth heir,” he said, and paused, measuring every face, “one of you made the sacrifice. Willingly or not. Someone among your Families bestowed the gift of earth upon a child.”

A rumble moved through the chamber.

“If it is one of yours,” Father said, “this is the hour to speak. You may wish to hide the child, but it is better to keep him with us than to leave it to the demons of the dark.”

“So you suggest,” Lord Salvadore drawled, “that one of us has an illegitimate child for whom he’s made a sacrifice to the gods?”

“Absurd,” Ortalis scoffed.

“Don’t creep into people’s beds, Victor,” Mermont growled.

“Perhaps we should,” Lady Dravenor said, her eyes like frost upon Mermont. “Secrets do not last long in yours.”

“Hold your tongue, woman,” he grated, his face reddening like a ripe apple.

Some lords barked nervous laughter.

Others rose, gesturing, quarreling without aim. Chaos again. I saw Cassandra shut her eyes as though to master a pounding ache. Finally, she stood, composed as ever, though there was a glint of ice in her eyes.

“I think we all need a moment to calm down,” she said. “I propose a recess.” She looked at my father. “Before anyone here actually strangles someone.”

Father inclined his head, and the assembly slowly broke apart, cloaks whispering, voices muttering. I felt sick. I could not endure another word. Before anyone could stop me, I fled the room.

The cold corridors struck my face with air sharp enough to spin my head. I reached the stables, stumbled at the threshold, and vomited between the bales of hay. The words were ringing in my head.

The four chosen bearers shall face their dark test

For the Devourer seeks to consume and ingest.