“But the lock didn’t keep Mora from speaking of the myth,” Rina reminded us.
“Then it’s the gods they’re locked from sharing. Probably something specific,” Ophelia suggested, still not looking away from the fae.
Neither said a word. Which was confirmation enough.
“We ask questions to pry holes in the wording of the bargain and discover what they can tell us—or what they can’t that might hold an answer,” I said.
Ophelia’s eyes were alight as she nodded and recounted, “So the pegasus and khrysaor were brother constellations.”
“It might be connected,” Mila interrupted. When we all looked at her, she added, “I think Malakai and I figured something out.”
“Something about the pegasus?” I asked.
“Something about the emblems.” Mila answered, and Ophelia straightened beside me, eyes wide as the general continued, “Where was Damien’s emblem?”
“In Angelborn.” Ophelia’s eyes flashed to the ceiling, as if she could see the spear in our room above. “A shard in the hilt.”
“A weapon,” Mila said, nodding with a gleam in her eye.
Malakai snagged her train of thought as if they’d been discussing it already. “And Damien’s constellation is?—”
“The sword, yes!” Mila said, decisively. “Ptholenix’s is the firebird, like Firebird’s Field. It’s related to the location of his emblem.”
“And Thorn’s is the crown,” Ophelia continued, but her face quickly fell. “The sword and Angelborn aren’t quite the same, though. And Bant’s constellation is the ax, not anything like a ring.”
“Engrossians often claim a second one, though,” Malakai said. Snagging a blank sheet of parchment from the table, he sketched it out. “A few clans have claimed multiple over the millennia since the Angels. It’s caused many fights throughout history.”
“Did you know that before I told you?” Mila asked.
Malakai flashed her a sheepish glance. “Yeah.”
She rolled her eyes but waved a hand for him to continue.
“The common symbol of the Engrossian clan is the ax because of its simplicity when they scar themselves.” Many of the second major clan’s warriors chose to immortalize their commitment to their cause with that symbol. “But do you know what their original constellation was?”
Malakai straightened, shoving his rough recreation of the star map toward us.
“The hydra,” Ophelia breathed.
“Seven-headed monster,” I said, realization clicking into place.
“How does that connect?” Lancaster asked, voice piqued with interest.
“Barrett’s ancestors have had the Engrossian sigil ring in their possession for centuries,” Ophelia explained. “So long that the story ofhowthey won it has shifted over time, but it is said that one powerful Engrossian won the ring from a monster in their swamps. One with seven heads.”
I added, “And are you aware that another clan fought for the hydra as their constellation back in the Age of Angels?” Moving around Ophelia, I scanned the glass shelves lining one wall until I found an encyclopedia and flipped through the index.
“Which?” Mora asked, enthralled with our lore.
“The Seawatchers,” I said, finding the page I needed and flipping the mythos book around. “And a contrasting account of the hydra is a water serpent.”
There on the page, an illustrated depiction of a many-headed serpent burst from a still navy sea, maw roaring wide and teeth glinting as long as my arm.
“The alpheous,” Ophelia said. “They guarded the platforms. And Gaveny’s known constellation is the conch. Whichcanproduce pearls like his emblem, though they’re rare.”
“Do you see my theory?” Mila asked.
“The constellations are clever disguises,” Ophelia said. “Some point to the emblem itself, such as Thorn’s crown, some are an adjacent item like Damien’s sword, and some are?—”
