A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,8
tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
It’s my tone that keeps them all silent, except for Adira who utters a soft, “Good night, Finley. Sleep well.”
“Good night,” I reply and head up the stairs.
In my room and with my door closed, I stand still, not quite knowing what to do. I’m exhausted yet I don’t think I can sleep. I’m terrified of what dreams may appear tonight.
Ignoring the dresser that holds my pajamas, I move to the side of my bed and sit on the edge. Hunching over, I press my elbows into my thighs and cradle my head in both hands. My eyes are dry for the moment, but I don’t think, by any means, my tears of grief are finished.
For now, I’m just… broken.
I cannot fathom Carrick’s story of a prophecy, although I don’t doubt it. I may not trust the man, and I’m furious he hid this from me for so long, but I do believe he’s being truthful. I believe it because he’s getting something out of it by helping me.
A reward from the gods, he’d called it.
Freaking gods.
There are five freaking gods who create prophecies—no, games—and they put innocent people on the chopping block when they let them loose on the world. It makes me wonder how many horrific events have occurred throughout the history of our world that were merely prophecies unfolding because these gods were bored.
And not just this world. I distinctly remember Carrick saying they controlled the universe. That implied there were other planets like earth, and I’m not even letting my mind travel to the possibility of alien life.
But even learning all of this horrible news, nothing can compare to the moment I watched Fallon morph into a Dark Fae. A supremely evil being. One who is here to cause destruction, because let’s face it… her change, the feather showing up on my leg, and the discovery of a prophecy are too coincidental.
How am I even going to be able to handle this with Fallon?
I wasn’t kidding tonight when I told Carrick I was not participating. They can get someone else to do the job the gods want me to do. Hell, maybe Carrick can pull it off on his own, but I didn’t sign up for this. I didn’t ask for my abilities, and I sure as hell didn’t sign up for any hero cape.
I never, in a million years, wanted to lose my sister.
I have so many questions about Fallon swirling in my head, and I can’t quite sort them out. I can never let the creature that now wears her face know that I know what she is. But I honestly don’t know if I can even be around her in a safe manner.
There’s the whole problem with me doubling over in pain because of the malevolent vibes she puts off. There’s a possibility she knows I can see beneath her glamour. Hell, she could know I’m part of a prophecy.
Christ… she could know exactly what the prophecy is and be a hundred steps ahead of me.
Correction… ahead of Carrick. I’m not a part of this anymore.
My head actually hurts from thinking about all the various possibilities, many of which could lead to my death at the hands of my former sister.
I lift my head from the cradle of my hands and without thought, I pull my sketching journal out of my bedside table drawer. I open it, flipping the pages to find the last drawings I had done a few weeks ago.
I look at the Concordia daemon I had drawn with her delicate wings. Zaid with his dove gray aura that I was able to blend to a perfect shade to match his real one. And finally… Carrick. That moment he first laid eyes on me and the unmistakable loathing that was there in his expression.
My hand presses flat against the drawing and I slide it downward, smudging his likeness so I can’t see the hate as clearly. Then my fingers press hard, get purchase on the paper, and I draw them inward, crumpling the paper. I squish it hard and rip it from the journal, balling it up tightly.
As I rise from the bed, my journal falls to the floor and I move across the room to my desk. I drop the drawing in the wastebasket, hoping the symbolic act will help erase Carrick’s memory. Help scrub away his heavy presence that has left an indelible mark over the past month.