Page 118 of The Lies We Conjure
The situation is dire, the numbers spelling it out in stark black and white of what has happened the last thirty-six hours and what we must do in the next fifteen.
Four dead bodies.
Two non-witches who have tangible knowledge about the inner workings of the most secretive magic society in North America.
One final relic to find.
One witch to elevate to High Sorcerer.
One murderer (if not more) to punish for the four dead bodies.
Evander gives us orders and honestly, I follow them because I want to be done.
Rip the Band-Aid off and slam the doors open, leaving this spell, the last three days behind. This is my home, where I was raised, but I may never come back.
I can serve my family and my line from somewhere that isn’t here.
Here, where my grandmother died. Where my father died. Where my aunt and uncle died. Where this whole ten-year travesty was built, crested, broke.
Six months ago, Ursula told me what I must do.
That keeping the lines together was worth any cost. Together we can survive, apart we begin to weather, fray, snap.
I’m not sure she knew the true price. Her life. Luna’s. Hector’sand Sanguine’s. The driver. The particular threat and test posed by Ruby and Wren.
Though, Ursula always knew everything. Maybe she knew this too.
And still she thought it was worth it.
It’s cost too much. It will cost us more before it’s over.
I didn’t object as Evander divided us up. Gave us marching orders. Signals to call each other—for masters and for sightings of Marsyas. Deadlines and strategies.
I didn’t say a word.
And now I’m being babysat by Evander himself.
The locations for the Death master relic are… sparse, to say the least.
The clue doesn’t seem to give us any indication of what form the relic might be in, nor is it very directive on location or even any specifics, honestly. Therefore, we’ve divided it into plausible hints: ashes, shroud, line.
Accordingly, our priority of search sites includes anywhere items are burned or buried, plus the location of the ley lines.
Winter and Infinity are casing the cemetery, searching for anything that might tie into the pointed dust-to-dust and shroud statements within the clue.
Meanwhile, the twins are searching the length of the large ley line that bisects the property, following it from the front gate until the mountains ruin the path, hoping to spot anything that fits in with the final words of the clue because just as every line hooks into the High Sorcerer’s ring via their master relics, every line draws power from the ley lines that crisscross the earth.
That leaves Evander and me with the house, addressing the hints regarding ashes and burning—tasked with searching every fireplace flue within Hegemony Manor.
Every living space has at least one, sometimes multiple. All of them are original to the house, which means all of them need to be searched.
It truly is a two-man job, but because of the still-cooling bodiesupon the grounds, we’ve decided to stay within view of each other. No splitting up for efficiency’s sake.
Which means I’m using my time wisely to tell him precisely what I think.
We’re on room number seven—the formal dining room on the first floor of the manor. The long, rectangular table is large enough to be seaworthy, the chandelier above sized to double as a temporary prison for a grown man. The walls are accented by Shadrack’s mural of waves, lit on one side by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the interior courtyard. The fireplace is adjacent to the courtyard views, and Ursula always sat so that her back was to the fire, the element charging her through every bite and sip at the head of the table.
Evander is bent over the cooling hearth, sifting through the ashes and prodding the stones beneath. Meanwhile, I’m standing on a chair that’s seen sturdier days, examining every Victorian curl of marble for a niche.
