Thirty-Two

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"No

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"No. No. No. There has to be another way." I stand and follow the steps around the temple. No matter the direction, it's all the same—white steps, white domed temple, white altar and basin. There is no way up and no way down. I'm trapped. To add insult to injury, the Imperium is nowhere in sight. I've doomed myself for nothing.

The despair building inside me is so heavy that my feet drag as I walk to the center of the temple. I run my fingertips along the edge of the bowl and study the open structure. Nothing is significant about the temple. No inscriptions, no ancient tomes, just boring smooth marble. It's such a plain place to house something that could change the course of my kingdom. My shattered kingdom.

I aimlessly stroll in circles. With so little I can do to better my situation, walking feels productive. I shove my hands into my pockets, and my fingers graze over two cold objects, the Eporri and Posseda. They rest in the palm of my hand, burnt orange and opalescent. The Sacred Gifts are beautiful, but useless to me. I shouldn't have taken them when Kyron insisted. Even if I failed this mission, he could have used these to fight against the Allaji. It would have only been a stall tactic, but maybe he could have saved a few lives.

My despair gives way to anger, and I chuck the stones across the room. They hit the floor with a crack and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach as they both break in two. Tears pool in my eyes. I run across the room, scrambling to gather the broken pieces. I shouldn't have done that. It doesn't matter that they are powerless in my hands. They weren't mine to destroy.

I cradle the gifts to my chest and rock back and forth as I cry. Broken. Fragmented. Shattered.

Shatter what you have always known and restore Pliris. The words the Sibyl spoke on behalf of the Statera repeat loud and clear inside my head.

"What does that even mean?" I ask, lifting my chin as if I'm talking to the sky. "How can I restore anything when I'm trapped here?"

The reply echoes all around me, and I swear it's the Statera itself speaking. Only you can mend what was fragmented.

The need to scream and fall into a tantrum shakes my body, but I remain silent. My knuckles turn white as I squeeze the broken stones like I can draw the answer out of them drop by drop. Nothing comes to me just the words same words over and over.

Shatter what you have always known and restore Pliris.

Only you can mend what was fragmented.

Despite them confusing me, they also bring comfort. Somewhere deep inside, I know they hold the answer.

As if I'm losing touch with reality, I fall into a trance. My body sways like a metronome and I chant, "Shatter. Mend. Restore. Shatter. Mend. Restore."

Shatter what I know. Mend them into something new. Restore Pliris.

My jaw drops and I open my hands to stare at the Eporri and Posseda. They are the Sacred Gifts I've always known, but they were not the one truly intended for Pliris' ruler.

Crown of Fire (Book 3 in the Crown Trilogy)Où les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant