I scanned Ameritat’s words. Rhea wasn’t kidding. The details of the place Tristan had ended up in were almost identical to what I had seen. “He didn’t say anything about howling, but otherwise, yeah, it sounds like the same place. Did they ever figure out what it was?”
Rhea nodded and flipped forward in the book. “The Liminal.”
I frowned. “What’s that?”
“It’s the borderlands between our world and Irkalla.” She shifted excitedly in her seat and thumbed through more pages. “Ah, here it is. Listen.”
She leaned over the book and read directly from it. “ ‘Tristan continued his exploration of the Liminal today. When he returned, he described finding the edge of the borderlands—a shimmering veil of magic. He attempted to pass through it but reported the contact disoriented him. He wandered around the in-between for what he said felt like hours before he regained his memory and returned to my workshop. It is my hope that continuing with his Chthonic training will increase his powers until he is able to access Irkalla through the Liminal.’ ”
Rhea looked up then. “Amazing!” She looked so excited, like she’d discovered a new land. But I found it hard to share her enthusiasm.
“Did he ever figure out how to do it?”
She frowned. “No.”
“Why not?”
She turned to the last page of the book. “This ends just before your father’s disappearance. But before that, Ameritat said she was going to make him stop trying because it was getting too dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“The Liminal isn’t just the borderlands between our world and Irkalla. It’s also the place our subconscious connects to during our dreams. Tristan reported seeing confusing images and getting lost in serpentine labyrinths. She was afraid if he kept trying, he’d eventually get too lost to find his way back.”
“Wait,” I said. “That doesn’t make sense. If this Liminal is where we go when we dream, how do we manage not to get lost there?”
“Ameritat’s theory was that our bodies act as a tether to our subconscious. So dreaming is kind of like an out-of-body experience. Our spirits go to the Liminal and our bodies anchor us to the mundane world. But Tristan, and now you, accessed the Liminal in your physical bodies. That means there’s nothing here to pull you back out. The only way to exit is through your will and magic. So if you get confused or lost, you could conceivably become stuck there.”
I was silent for a few moments while that sunk in. If what she said was true, I was damned lucky I’d made it back the other night. “You said there were hundreds of journals. Did you go through the rest to see if she wrote more about the Liminal after he disappeared?”
Rhea frowned and shook her head. Her eyes were shadowed with old memories. “Ameritat was so devastated by his disappearance that she refused to record those events in her journals. Those were very dark days for all of us. And once she took custody of Maisie after your mother’s death, Ameritat threw herself into raising your twin, as if Maisie could somehow fill the Tristan-sized hole in her life. All her journals after that are about raising Maisie and her work with the Council.”
My stomach twisted. I didn’t like to think about the events of more than fifty years earlier that led to my birth. “Well, at least we know what that place was.”
Rhea frowned at me. “Sabina, why aren’t you more excited?”
“Why should I be? You said it yourself: The place is too dangerous.”
“There are risks, sure, but I don’t think we shouldn’t continue experimenting. You could be the first mage to access Irkalla without dying first.”
“Rhea, just because I could do something doesn’t mean I should.”
“Don’t be silly, of course you should try!”
“Why?”
“Maybe the problems Tristan had won’t affect you, since you’re the Chosen.”
I slammed my hand down on the table. “Gods, not that again.”
Rhea looked confused and hurt by my tone. “Why do you continue to deny it?”
“Yes, sure. The Chosen who can’t get the leaders of the races to listen to reason. The Chosen who can’t even control her own minion half the time. The Chosen who can’t even get a simple interspatial travel spell right.”
“Yes, you,” Rhea said. “The Chosen who called on the powers of Hekate and Lilith to stop a war. The Chosen who united all the dark races in peace. You. Like it or not, Sabina, you are the Chosen.”
“Look, all that might be true, but I don’t know how you think it’s related to this Liminal business.”
“Well, according to Maisie’s prophecy, the Chosen is actually the New Lilith.”
“So?”
“So think about it: It’s always bothered me why you would be the Chosen and not Maisie. I mean, you had the same parents, were born at the same time. I think your Chthonic powers have to be the key. The same Chthonic powers that allow you to access the Liminal. And the Liminal could be your doorway to Irkalla… and Lilith.”
I crossed my arms and gave her a dubious frown.
“Your magic is special, Sabina. It gives you rare abilities. That has to be tied to the prophecy.” She shrugged. “I’m just saying that nothing is a coincidence. Maybe accessing Irkalla through the Liminal is part of the prophecy.”
I sighed and stood, choosing my words carefully. “No offense, Rhea, but I don’t give a damn. I’m not about to start screwing around with dark magic and instigating contact with the underworld just for shits and giggles—or worse, because some ancient arcane prophecy can be twisted to fit any situation.”
She held my gaze for a moment. I could see the gears moving behind her eyes, weighing the pros and cons of fighting me on this. I couldn’t blame her for her excitement and curiosity, but I wasn’t about to be a magical guinea pig. Not when there was a risk of getting trapped in the Liminal with that howling beast for all eternity.
Finally, her shoulders slumped as she surrendered hope that I’d relent. “I can respect your hesitation. But I think you’re making a mistake. Far better to pursue your destiny than to have it find you when you least expect it.”
I crossed my arms. “The only thing I’m interested in pursuing right now is dinner.”
She frowned at my lame attempt at humor. “Just think about it, okay?”