“Lancaster is injured, and Rina is taking care of him,” I said, handing the note to Tol who had yet to read it. I held Mora’s stare, trying to reassure her as concern for her brother bled across the table between us. “Between her care and his internal healing magic, he should be just fine. That’s not necessarily the concerning part, though.”
“This was another one of those mistresses of the fucking god, wasn’t it?” Tolek growled, doing his best not to crumble Rina’s letter.
“I believe so,” I said, blowing out a defeated breath and turning to Malakai. “Right?”
His eyes weren’t flooded with the panic I expected, though. No, the forest green shone as he said, “We’ve figured something out about them.”
Tolek leaned forward. “Don’t hold back, brother.”
“Yesterday,” Mila began, “Malakai and I were near the streams out beyond Xenovia, and we saw one of those women.”
“Where exactly?” Meridat asked, her warriors tensing.
“She wasn’t near the city when we saw her, but she was coming from that direction,” Malakai explained. “She was roaming, speaking to herself, but we lost her when…”
He looked at Mila, and the general swallowed. “One of my visions showed her to me, with leather wings, fangs, and red eyes. And another child at her breast.” The air in the room went taut. “We know that Echnid brought them here, and I think I was seeing them in their original realm, but the purpose”—she exchanged a glance with Malakai, who nodded in encouragement—“has to do with you creating seraphs.”
My stomach turned over at just the thought. I braced my hands against the table as my magic riled, shaking my head. Tolek’s palm brushed down my spine. “That makes sense,” I forced out. “Rina said the one that attacked them was looking for her specifically to make sure something had orhadn’tbeen done.”
So, Echnid thought I’d continue his experiments once I escaped. Why?
“There’s more,” Malakai said.
“There always is,” Tolek muttered, eyes locked on me.
“Based on what Mila saw of them in whatever fucking realm that was, we think Echnid wants to procreate with them.” Silence crashed through the room at Malakai’s words. “He wants an army of demigods.”
“What?” I gasped. “But…why?”
“It means a few things,” Mora spoke up, recovering her previous panic now that we were discussing her myths. “First, I believe we know what happened to Mila in the Spirit River.” She faced Meridat. “Have you ever met a Reflector of a Realm, Chancellor?”
Meridat’s full lips parted, her head shaking. “No. I thought their lines died out long ago.”
“What are they?” Tolek asked.
Erista leaned across the table. “They were similar to Storytellers, but a branch touched by Artale’s magic, whereas Storytellers are of Thallia and Moirenna. Instead of speaking historical facts, they saw visions of other realms. Legends say it was a connection built through the waters in the Spirit River, a gift from the Goddess of Death to view windows to Spirits, since it is believed there is only one Spirit Realm between all worlds.”
The power of that had my jaw dropping open. Mila was not a Storyteller, though I wouldn’t mind the chance to speak to Aimee right now. She was not a Realmspinner, either, able to open the bridges between worlds, but she could detect creatures made of different ones—see them in their own worlds. A Reflector of a Realm.
“And when I absorbed that water, I somehow became one,” Mila said confidently. Malakai’s arm wrapped protectively around her, and I had a feeling the general was pretending to be much more comfortable with this news than she truly was. “I saw the realm the women came from, saw their true forms and their threats. It’s why I kept seeing them baring children.”
“Fucking Spirits,” Tolek cursed.
“That’s what I said,” Malakai agreed, face solemn. Behind the table, Cypherion paced the room as we took this in, his strides agitating my own magic.
Mora was not as shocked as the rest of us. She held a hand out for Malakai to give her the book and turned to a marked page with the very creature Mila described portrayed in faded ink. “The women trailing after the god are gorgons.”
“Gorgons?” I echoed, reading the notes scrawled around the painting. Spirits, I’d never even heard of these things, in any story or legend.
“Yes,” Mora went on. “Gorgons are creatures that have not been seen in this realm for a very,verylong time. Much longer than even I have been alive, but like the pegasus and khrysaor, there are still mentions of them in the legends if you know where to look.”
“And how do you know?” Erista’s father asked.
“I am very old. I’ve had plenty of time to read,” Mora said flatly. When no one argued she continued, “Gorgons have two forms—their beautiful humanoid form, and their demonic one. The second is excessively dangerous because they are able to turn someone to stone with a single glance and their blood is poisonous—lethal in that form, but merely venomous in their human one.” Her lips pressed into a line. She cleared her throat. “Based on Santorina’s account, that venom is what my brother ingested. He should be fine in a few days, once his body purges it. He’s fortunate nothing worse happened. But these women are known for their fertility rituals and beliefs. There are countless tales of higher powers mating with them to produce powerful offspring who can take form as full-grown adults if the right magic is employed.”
Spirits, it was all there once we knew where to look. I sat back in my chair, absorbing everything she’d said. The sense of a looming tidal wave hovered over me—like it was slowly curling up, ready to crack.
A vengeful god, seven ruthless Angels, and now a growing army of foot soldiers with poisonous blood and no remorse.
