a result.” He gestured at Sethios. “He’s decidedly not.”
“I used to be,” Sethios said, thinking back on his captivity. “There were several times that I felt Caro die, never understanding who she was or why I experienced the death with her. But it subsided shortly after Osiris’s compulsion took over.” He frowned. “There were moments here and there where I experienced her pain, but it wasn’t consistent. Now it’s like she’s not even here.”
He recalled the first time Caro had died, how excruciating it had been to not understand why he felt as though he were drowning on land. The ache in his chest had nearly undone him, the anguish crippling his soul. Only it all disappeared a breath later, then repeated several more times that day until his father had arrived and silenced him with a command.
How long had that gone on? The hours or days of dying on repeat and being unable to scream or move?
He blinked. When had it all stopped? Had Osiris compelled it out of him due to boredom? Or had it been something else entirely?
“I thought you heard from Caro daily?” Issac asked, his focus on Gabriel. “Isn’t that what you said when you arrived in Hydria? Something about your headache?”
“Her visions haunt me, yes,” Gabriel replied. “But that’s more metaphorical. I don’t actually hear or see her, but I dream of her drowning every time I sleep. It’s vivid, yet always the same. Which is why I want to fully evaluate them now, to see if it’s a looping memory or not. I want to evaluate Stas’s dreams, too.”
“Mine are always different,” she replied, frowning. “They usually tie into something else. Like after the Conclave I attended, the drowning vision morphed into him torturing me like Sierra.”
“Who’s Sierra?” Sethios asked. He didn’t recognize the name.
“An Ichorian who found me in New York City and didn’t give me up to Osiris,” Owen explained as he entered the room and collapsed onto the couch beside Astasiya and Issac. “It’s my understanding that he made a show of her disobedience.” The words were flat, yet regret touched his dark features.
Sethios imagined the female had suffered greatly, especially if she was the star of the Conclave that night. “And you witnessed this show?” he asked his daughter.
“Yeah.” She visibly swallowed. “That was my introduction to Ichorian life.”
Right. Grand introduction, indeed. He narrowed his gaze at the Ichorian beside her. “You took her to a fucking Conclave?”
The male snorted. “Not by bloody choice.”
“One doesn’t just accidentally attend a Conclave, Issac.”
“I never claimed it was an accident. I stated it wasn’t by choice.”
“Elaborate,” Sethios demanded, ready to wring the male’s neck for endangering his daughter in such a way.
“Tom told her about the Arcadia,” Gabriel replied before Issac had a chance. “He thought it would be a good way to show her Issac’s true nature. He didn’t realize it was the night of a Conclave.”
“If you’d like to kill him for it, I’ll happily watch,” Issac said, his own fury over the experience palpable and somewhat cooling Sethios’s mounting ire.
“Look, I’m fine. I didn’t die. Can we focus on Mom now?”
“No, I have another question,” Sethios interjected. “Who the fuck is Tom?”
“Jonathan Fitzgerald’s son.” Gabriel shifted, lowering one foot to the ground and lifting his other ankle to rest against the opposite knee. “He’s a Hydraian, and valuable. You can’t kill him.” He looked pointedly at Issac. “It would greatly upset Amelia.”
“Bollocks,” the male muttered in reply.
“Seriously, none of this matters. You said Mom might be in a memory loop. I want to know what that means, how it works, and what to do if it’s true.” Astasiya’s tone resembled Caro’s no-nonsense voice, the kind she used when reprimanding without much emotion. It caused Sethios’s heart to pang softly, his concern regarding the Conclave vanishing in an instant.
His daughter was right—they had more important matters to discuss.
“Show Issac your dreams, Gabriel. Then he can play them for all of us, and we can search for loops. Astasiya can do the same. Then I’ll offer what little I can. We’ll see if your theory checks out.”
Gabriel nodded, the practical course one he would obviously favor.
Issac visibly flinched, the Seraphim already unloading his thoughts without another word.
Sethios glanced at his daughter, catching the worry in her expression. He decided to distract her by answering one of her comments.
“As you know, Vera can manipulate and change memories. But she’s not the only one with that gift. If your mother has in fact