Page 95 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
“You must seek the great promised power. You must go to the place that will destroy you. You must enter his Tomb.”
The words, mysterious and cryptic, spilled out of her like fragments of a forgotten language.
“No.” Xytharia’s voice trembled, a desperate plea escaping her lips. “No—not that. Anything but that.”
The High Priestess had seemed so strong and impossible to break, but the pure terror etched across her features painted a clear picture of a woman confronting the unfathomable.
Yet the vision that had gripped Alethea was incomplete. A violent spasm coursed through her body, her muscles contracting involuntarily. Her head rolled back, and her lips moved in tandem with the words that seemed to emerge from a realm beyond her own consciousness.
“Go to the Tomb and bury the part of yourself, or you will behold the end of the Unending, the death of Death himself.”
Alethea’s vision was opened wide, unveiling a sight beyond the tangible world. She witnessed a blinding white life force, radiant with the very essence of creation. This luminous energy held within it the most precious power of all: the fundamental force that shaped galaxies and birthed stars.
Its opposite lived in Xytharia now, swirling around her in a tender embrace. It was a gift born of love. But it would not be enough. It had to be replaced with something else—something greater. Something truly meant for her.
Perhaps Alethea might have recognized the bottom of her well, since she’d been close to it so many times. It wasn’t like crashing into a stone floor and more like the arrival at another glistening pool, enigmatic and alluring and just within her reach. The shimmering body before her was not only the source of her power, but also a gateway to creation and oblivion. The force within it held secrets untold; truths that could reshape destinies and alter the course of worlds.
Maybe with it, she could save themall.
The luminous energy beckoned to her, whispering promisesof greatness and transcendence, if she was willing to risk it. If she was willing to give everything.
In the reflection of that pool, she caught a glimpse of those faded visions and terrifying dreams that slipped between her fingers the moment she awoke. She saw that beautiful white light surrounding Xytharia over a battlefield and heard the massive wings beating in the distance.
If she could go... just a bit further...
She reached for that power?—
“Alethea.”
“Illusory magic is permitted. Cognitive interference is not.
The moment an Enchanter’s craft crosses from perception to compulsion, it ceases to be art and becomes a crime against the soul.”
—STATUTES OF ARCANE CONDUCT, EDICT II
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hearth’s Moon, Day 2.
As Alethea gradually surfaced from the depths of unconsciousness, she became aware of her familiar surroundings. The bed beneath her felt both soft and firm, the linens cool against her skin. It was the same bed she’d risen from that very morning, but now the sun had long set, and night settled over the castle like a heavy blanket.
At first, she thought she was alone. The silence in the room was palpable, broken only by the occasional crackle of embers in the hearth. Every inch of her body screamed, as if each muscle and bone had been strained to its limit. Every movement sent sharp protests through her nerves, and even the simple act of attempting to sit up felt monumental. She found it near impossible, her limbs heavy and unresponsive.
She tried to recall the events that had led her to this state, but her mind felt foggy, memories obscured by a haze of exhaustion. Alethea tried again to move, to pull herself to the edge of the bed, when a sharp voice halted her.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
His presence loomed from across the room, a daunting silhouette in the dim light of the hearth, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Nakir’s posture was tense as he sat rigid in the blue velvet armchair, elbows on his knees, hands folded before him.
The sight of him there, brooding in the shadows, struck Alethea with a paralyzing sense of dread. His eyes, usually warm and understanding, were now depths of darkness.
For the first time in a long time, she felt fear in his presence. Her palms were already sweating, heart thudding painfully against her chest.
They sat in silence for some time, Alethea unable to flee due to her exhaustion.
“What happened?” she finally asked.
Nakir’s fury flared, his features hardening with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. “Whathappened?” Her inquiry had prodded an open wound, unleashing a torrent of emotion he was struggling to contain.
