Page 203 of Remnants: Disruption

“She knew that” I whisper, looking at Cass. “Why did she know that?”

Cass shakes her head, looking just as confused—though a lot sexier about it.

“It’ll take a few hours to go through all of this,” Blair begins, but a file catches my eye.

“There,” I point, jabbing my thumb against the screen.

“Stop smacking it,” Blair grumbles, scrolling up the file. “Darksire?”

My breath catches at the phrase.

“What?” Cass asks, and everyone turns to face me.

“Shit,” I breathe out. “Shit, is that a computer thing?”

Blair scrambles to the computer and clicks the file.

A series of blueprints populates the screen. Each looking more complex than the one before. Each of a single machine the size of a building.

Each looking like the vision. Like the very first Communion of this whole, sordid problem.

“Darksire Project,” Blair says, voice small, they highlight the description and read, “for the creation of a more perfect Entity.”

The bylines list only one person.

“Darkrend,” I breathe out. “Damien Roberts is Darkrend.”

Chapter 71

Epilogue

I exist and therefore.

Ruin, the Tethered King

Arya and Cassandra walk side by side like they were made for one another. Like fate had derived their souls from the same cloth. From the same ocean in eternity. They even think the same.

Seven hundred years separates these two women, yet they laugh and cry and love with abandon.

Perhaps it is because Cassandra Alta never became the Xaltox. Perhaps it is because of Arya’s nature that their fates were so perfectly intertwined. Omen’s incessant meddling may not be the reason for the fragmentation, but Xalrys never needed the fate-breaker.

Not when she already had Time Immortal. The fate-maker.

Arya spins Cassandra toward her, rocking her firmly into her warm embrace. The taller woman laughs brightly; her rulership crown left firmly at the door to their Romanian home.

Except they know that the good times are rare. Cassandra knew the moment the Seers had sent her into the pale woman’s life. Arya already knew.

The spirits have all but told her the truth—they’ve tried for months now.

In time, she will learn.

But I can’t interfere.

Not right now.

And it’s for the best.

Because this is all my fault.