“One of great value but beyond that, I am not certain.”
Or will not share. I can’t deny that Stonekeep’s existence has been a source of many unanswered questions over the centuries for Islor. “And you are certain the nymphaeum door has nothing to do with this prophecy?”
She falters in her answer.
“Around and around we go.” My smile must look menacing through my gritted teeth. “Wendeline was more proficient at misleading me than you are.”
She sighs. “I am not trying to mislead or deceive you. Where the nymphaeum door is concerned, all paths may lead to opening it. I cannot say anything for certain.”
“Explain,” I press.
“The power of the nymphs may grant Malachi what he wants, but it also might give you what you want. It is hard to say. Much of what we know about the nymphs is understood through vague foretelling and a few ancient texts that have survived the ages. We know for certain that the nymphs existed long before the casters, and for whatever reason, the fates felt the need to quell that power by locking it up within its own little box of sorts, never to be unleashed again. All four agreed to this, and they agree on so very little, which tells us they had a compelling reason. And there is only one reason I can think compelling enough. One thing that the fates hold above all else.”
Power. “The nymphs were too powerful.”
“Even now, locked behind that door, their ties to this world are potent enough to give life to so many of you. Have you never pondered that?”
Too often. “Are you saying the end of this blood curse may require that Romeria open the nymphaeum door?”
She pauses. “Will you allow me to share conjecture, knowing it is based on nothing more than hallucinations rooted in madness?” A tiny smile curls her lips. She’s echoing my bitter words from last night, and she’s enjoying it.
With a heavy sigh, I fold my arms across my chest. “Proceed.”
“Some scribes believe the fates banished the nymphs because their connection to this world allowed them to unravel the fates’ meddling and return existence to its original shape at conception. With the age of the casters, this became a glaring problem.”
“Return it to before a summons is answered.” I see where she’s going with this. “You think the nymphs can reverse Malachi’s blood curse.”
“It is possible. If they chose to. As I’ve said, it is only conjecture, but it would explain much. The fates see themselves as the highest of judges in the highest of courts. They do not appreciate anyone interfering. To have these nymphs roaming freely, causing chaos by negating their powers, overruling their schemes …”
It would explain everything. “And how does one open the door?” Farren tried and failed.
“There is a way we are almost certain was Malachi’s intent.” She gives me a knowing look.
“A key caster taking the stone on Hudem.”
“With an elven as powerful as you are, yes.”
The stone that is deep within Cirilea and now inaccessible to us. We couldn’t reach it on a normal day, forget on the holiest of days. Atticus will have guards next to every secret passage in and out of there. He knows them all as well as I do. All except for the one deep below the castle, meant only for the king.
But even if we could get to the nymphaeum on Hudem, I can’t expect Romeria would willingly go along with this option, and I would never force her. “Is there no other way?”
“There may be. We would need to find it. I don’t know that it matters how the door is opened. What matters is that it is opened. And once that happens, Malachi will get what he wants as well. To reign over these lands.”
Another king vying for power. “Would it be so terrible?” It’s a glib question, without much thought.
“History would suggest yes.”
Her words stop me in my tracks. “What history? I have a full library of texts, and I have read them all.” Some, multiple times. “None hold mention of the fates ever ruling these lands.”
“As there was no mention of it in Mordain’s vast archives either. Not until twelve hundred years ago, when the ruler of Shadowhelm, Queen Bodil, sent word to Mordain, requesting an emissary. They had found scripture deep within a tomb. They could not read it, or access it. It had been preserved, it seemed, by elemental power.”
“I thought Skatrana had no love for your kind.”
“It comes and goes with each new ruler. Mostly goes.” A faint smile touches Gesine’s lips. “Fortunately, Queen Bodil was pragmatic. She could see that whatever had been hidden within her realm had to be important. As mortals, they would never have the means to interpret or even touch it. So she asked for our help, and we gave it. And we learned much from these preserved accounts.
“Aoife and Malachi once reigned these lands, long ago, assuming the forms of a king and queen who held the throne. It resulted in war and famine as the two fates could not coexist, each demanding that the other relent and for all to bow. More than once, both the humans and the elven dared rise against the thrones, only to be crushed. Malachi used his daaknar to punish any who challenged him while Aoife turned rivers red with the blood for all those who did not kneel before her. Crops rotted under the scorching sun and froze in the frigid air as Vin’nyla and Aminadav expressed displeasure with their fellow fates’ antics. It was a dark time. Merely uttering the names of the fates inspired fear, and tearing down sanctums previously erected in their honor became a cornerstone of rebellion. The suffering and destruction went on for centuries.”
“And how did it end?”