Page 49 of Burn of the Everflame

My stomach dropped. “Ophiucae’s in Lumnos?”

“What if our brother can change?” Lumnos asked them. “He’s capable of love. Perhaps he is capable of goodness, if Diem can show him the way.”

She set her palm on the heartstone, and it lit up with a sapphire glow. “We will give her the gift she needs to take our brother’s life, but let us trust her to make her own choice, in the end. Love is as powerful as blood. It can change minds and hearts.” She gave me another of her strange, knowing smiles. “Let’s pray it can also change fates.”

Montios added her hand to the heartstone, along with her pale lilac light, and looked at me. “Be strong, Daughter of the Forgotten. Courage is a virtue.”

Fortos grunted and slapped his palm onto the stone. “Not like we have a choice.”

“We never did,” Faunos agreed, joining him. “Once she was born, all our paths aligned.”

Meros added her hand. “Be kind to my King,” she said, tone edged with threat. “He is strong of heart, and he has given more for his people than you know.”

Arboros followed suit. “My Queen can be your ally, if you can forgive her.”

“As can Doriel,” Sophos said as he joined. “Duty makes for difficult choices, Diem. Rare is a ruler who emerges unscathed. Remember that.”

I pressed my lips tight to hold back a volley of pointed words. Their pleas felt hollow when they’d been perfectly willing to sacrifice their Crowns’ lives only moments ago.

I had my own plans for the Crowns—and it wasn’t forgiveness.

“Well, mine isn’t a good man,” Ignios admitted. “I chose him because he was strong-willed and decisive. I thought he would use that fire to protect his people, but anger smolders. Hatred ignites. And power burns a soul to ash.” She reached for the heartstone. “His days are numbered. Follow his path, and yours will be, too.”

Only Umbros remained. He’d kept his distance, lingering near his arch and staring silently at Yrselle’s decomposing corpse with a pensive crease across his brow. “I’ve had many Crowns,” he murmured. “Yrselle was my favorite of them all. Beautiful. Ruthless. I would have let her reign forever, if I could.” The corner of his lips lifted. “She was so very fun. Never a dull moment, watching her.”

His gaze rose to mine. “When I told her of the role she would need to play, she never argued or lamented her fate. She only asked me one question: ‘Is the girl worth it?’ And I told her you were.” He walked up to the central pedestal. His palm hovered over the heartstone, its glassy edges alight with rainbow hues. “Be worthy, Diem Bellator. Make the difficult choices—whatever they may be.”

At the final Kindred’s touch, a blinding light exploded from the heartstone’s core. I raised a hand to my eyes to block its dazzling glare. The cauldron fires roared back to life, burning so high and hot they warmed my flesh.

Beyond the island’s shores, the world had changed. The sunny blue sky and watery sea had faded behind an ethereal curtain, its glittering fabric rippling with images I couldn’t quite understand. They held familiar faces and landscapes, cast in moments I’d never witnessed. Moments I couldn’t have witnessed—Lily and Teller together in old age, Henri as a grown man alongside his mother.

“Close your eyes,” Sophos shouted. “Those are not for you to see.”

I couldn’t—my attention had caught on a foggy picture of myself at a graveyard, tombstones in rows that stretched for miles. I was on my knees and weeping, clutching the Sword of Corbois to my chest.

Luther.

I was grieving Luther.

Beside him, another gravestone had a bundle of lilies at its base. On another beside it, Taran’s baldric was slung over its edge.

On another, Alixe’s shortswords.

On another, Eleanor’s sketchbook.

The satchel Teller carried to school.

The healer’s apron my mother wore.

Artifacts of every person I’d ever loved.

Dead.

All of them, dead.

A hand pressed to my cheek and forced my face to turn away. “You cannot look,” Lumnos warned, her tone kind but firm.

“That’s the future, isn’t it?” I whispered.