Page 32 of Dark as the Cursed Abyss

“She isn’t here,” Farah muttered.

Acacius glanced at her sidelong. “So you do care that she’s avoiding you.”

“Of course I do,” she replied too quickly.

He hummed, but didn’t say another word. They walked along the outer edge of the celebration, where the firelight dimmed and shadows stretched longer. The heat barely reached them here, the cold creeping back in with every step. For a while, neither spoke.

“The hallucinations,” Farah said.

Acacius’s attention sharpened instantly. “What about them?”

She kept her gaze forward. “Did you see them? When we went through the second trial?”

He paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “No.”

She frowned. “No?”

“They are not meant to be seen by anyone other than those that drank the kykeon,” he said.

“Why? The first trial—”

His gaze flicked toward the fire. “The first trial was your memories. Memories are shared freely. The kykeon shows truths,” he said slowly. “The kind people spend their entire lives avoiding. Did you learn nothing from our lessons, phoinix?”

Farah’s stomach tightened.

Acacius continued. “They bind you to the person who sees them with you. It is an intimacy the Fates do not wish to be shared.”

Her pulse quickened. “So whatever happened?”

“Stays between the two of you.”

That almost made it worse. Because it meant Chloe remembered everything too and still refused to speak with her.

“May I ask you something?” Farah questioned, rubbing at her palms until faint scratch marks appeared.

He shrugged and swatted at her hands in a way she imagined her brother would do. If her brother wasn’t an absolute fool. “You can, though I might not be at liberty to share anything else about the Mysteries.”

“Kalliope.” Acacius went still. Completely. “You never talk about her,” Farah pressed.

Acacius reached into his pocket, retrieving a thin gold band covered in rubies, rubbing it in a way that seemed daunting and intimate. “She fell ill,” he said. “Two years ago.”

Farah blinked. “Ill?”

“One day she was fine. The next she had a searing pain in her head, something she never experienced before.” He exhaled, closing his eyes. “Within hours, she was gone.”

“That doesn’t just happen.”

“No,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t.”

His hands curled at his sides. “It was the Mysteries. I just know it. There are consequences. Decisions that follow you out.”

Farah’s breath slowed and her skin peppered with goosebumps.

“There is a breaking point,” he continued. “In the third trial. A moment where…” He stopped.

“What?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “I’ve said too much.”