Page 197 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

A seeing chamber.

She’d heard what Maeson had demanded in Falliare’s office, but she hadn’t registered how close it was.

Stars, they’d had that in the Trade House this entire time? She knew there were still some on the isles, but not this readily available. What in the Fates’ names did they use it for?

Those things were horrific—many were used on the continent by the temple traders. Her magic was revolting from the mere presence as Brean Witz hid behind the force of the Lyra Isle Guard, not a speck of blood on her, and lifted a key ring from her belt.

A number of ornate keys hung from it. Emmeline’s stomach soured to consider what else they may be for. She slipped one into the lock and shoved the door open. White marble shone across every surface within, details barely visible as Emmeline struggled.

The guard at her back released his hold on her hair and pressed his arm to her neck, squeezing the life from her.

“NO!” Emmeline wheezed, pulling what air she could into her lungs.

But it was too late.

Just as Roremar’s eyes met hers, fury erupting to see the man choking her, guards shoved him into the glimmering room, and the door slammed shut.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Roremar

He screamed as the guards forced him through the door.

One word.

“Emmeline!”

And he swore the man with his hands on her wouldn’t have hands to use ever again.

As he stumbled back into the room and the door was slammed in his face, the chamber came to life. Circular marble walls glowed with an iridescent sheen, the seeing chamber built into one of the corner towers of the Trade House. Starlike speckles of silver dotted the pristine surfaces, the floor and pillars carved into the walls all the same material.

This wasn’t ordinary marble, nor was it a space meant for mundane sessions.

This was imbued with precious oils and resins meant to pry into the depths of a Starsearcher and pull their readings to the surface. Without incense even being lit, a claw dug into Roremar’s chest.

He staggered forward as if pulled by its hook. White flames rippled around the room, climbing toward the ceiling made of twelve panels of stained glass.

As the magic warped his mind, he couldn’t tell if the fire was real or an illusion. The whole chamber wavered. His eyes watered, and he thought he smelled smoke, but also something sweet and rich, like vanilla.

It felt like it was turning his entire body inside out as it fought to unravel something. To pry his being from his Fate tie—to kill them both.

That’s not what these chambers were supposed to be for. They were meant to help those who struggled with their readings, to gently ease them to the surface.

Not this torment they’d been turned into over the years. Children had been forced into them before their Fate ties surfaced, fully grown warriors had been driven mad when trapped in them.

Roremar fell to his knees in the center of the room as light flashed. A barrage of memories slammed into him, each a physical blow. To his ribs, his cheek, his gut. He crumbled further with each.

Starfire trailed from the walls, battering him again and again. Every hit tried to force his magic to the surface, but his Fate tie was fully realized—and it was stronger than any singular tie in history.

It didn’t need to be dragged out of him. This only replayed the memories of everything Dryvius had ever made him do.

The strands of starfire exploded in a blinding light, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he was pummeled beneath the weight of his power.

The magic reached deeper into his soul and tried to wrench him apart as if it could separate body and Fate. Fuck, could it just kill him while it tried?

An agonized scream wrenched up his throat, bouncing off the walls and echoing back to him. Again and again, it happened.

Again and again, the magic of the seeing chamber pulled him apart. His chains shattered. His mind was on the verge of following it.