This shouldn’t be a humorous moment, but a manic wave of laughter bubbles up my throat, and I flatten my lips, trying my best to hold it together.
When the Oracle’s steadfast gaze settles on me, I revert back to seriousness, clasping my hands behind my back and straightening my shoulders.
“What do you seek, child?”
The question momentarily confounds me, and I take a few moments to respond. “I know nothing,” I finally say. “I lack even the questions to lead me to the right answers.”
Somehow, the Oracle seems pleased. She nods and appears to be thinking before speaking again.
“You know more than you think.”
A smallOh?escapes me before the Oracle continues, “Even banished, you couldn’t stay away; your god has always beckoned you close.”
I try my hardest to decipher her words but fall short.
“I’m not sure what that means …”
“Where did you live in Corutio?”
“The neighborhood?”
She nods.
I chew my bottom lip. “I lived in the Larcine District.”
She hums as if I’ve revealed information that should mean something to me.
“And whose district was that?”
It dawns on me where she’s trying to lead me to. I feel foolish, not realizing it sooner.
I’m now the one fumbling over my words. “I never?—”
“Paid much attention?” she interjects.
I swallow hard. “Correct. But what I meant to say was, I never participated in the city’s traditions; one neighborhood didn’t matter over another.”
“You never participated in the city’s traditions because Corutio was not your birthright — Pravitia is,” she says solemnly, “but it did not prevent you from ever straying far from the god of thievery. Larcine is another one of its servants.”
I blink. A bizarre irritation simmers inside my chest. “Is there a point to this?” My words come out a lot harsher than I expected, and I sense Mercy shifting in place to my right. I pretend my heart isn’t racing and hold the Oracle’s piercing gaze.
“What is your sigil, child?” she asks.
My first reaction is to blurt outI don’t know, but realize I must know if the Oracle is asking me that question. I take a long inhale and close my eyes. It feels absurd not to recall such an important detail of my daily life in Corutio, but my memories are so blurry that it makes me wonder if I was even awake or dreaming.
Until I returned to Pravitia.
Now every memory is as vivid as the day I lived them.
Opening my eyes, I find the Oracle staring back.
“A hand holding a key.”
I can almost discern a small smile on her lips as she nods, folding up her sleeve to reveal my sigil tattooed on her arm, just above Gemini’s and two others I don’t immediately recognize. It looks fresh on her skin, as if she was expecting me all along.
“Welcome home.”
33
