Page 25 of Heir of Broken Souls

“I know that language.” Her head whips to Knox, her red-streaked hair swaying with the swiftness of it. “Is it truly them?”

Knox’s brows rise. “Them who?”

“Don’t be coy, I’d know that language anywhere because it’srare. Did she see them?”

Harlow’s eyes glaze again as Knox shows her the entirety of what he deems a vision. She rears back in shock as she comes to once more. “They’re still alive?”

“Sweep is clear,” Lenox announces, coming to stand in the open archway. “Who is alive?”

Harlow visibly tenses at the sound of his monotone voice; it takes her a moment before she forces herself to relax. Her eyes cut to the dense forest behind our backs, the cliff face where we buried Annie and Easton not too far from here.

“We should discuss this somewhere secure,” Harlow states before spinning around and striding into the house.

Knox sighs deeply before trailing after the small half-witch. “Guess we’re not sleeping tonight.”

I feel the need to point out that even when we have the time to sleep, he doesn’t. Although I don’t think he’d appreciate finding out that I know he can’t sleep because he watches over me, waiting for my nightmares to make me scream.

Chapter8

Delilah

My fighting leathers squeak as I take a seat in one of the armchairs by the study’s fire, my earlier exhaustion long forgotten as the sun begins to fade and adrenaline courses through me at the discussion still raging hours after we left the treehouse.

“Is it a dream or a vision?” Harlow asks, her gaze assessing.

Knox slides his hands into his pockets. “Delilah said it felt like a memory, a déjà vu of sorts.”

“That’s absurd. The archangels died in the battle a millennia ago against dark magic. They sacrificed themselves to save this world,” Lenox says, for once an ounce of emotion shining in his voice.

Harlow snorts. “You can’t be dead and send visions.”

Lenox ignores her, again. Harlow stares at him, as if she can climb into his mind and see everything that’s going on within.

“No, I believe they could be alive.” Knox slides into the seat behind his desk. His eyes move to mine. “The archangels were the only ones capable of manipulating time itself.”

“Then this could be a message from when they were alive,” Lenox argues. “A millennia ago, when they were fighting the battle against darkness.”

Knox straightens, facing his now second. “It would explain why they appear so young.”

“Is that even possible?”

“The archangels all possess the ability of sight within their own magic system,” Harlow explains, plopping into the armchair perpendicular to me. “They could have received a similar vision to your own ofPeter,” she spits the name, “destroying these lands.”

But if they knew what was to come, why sacrifice themselves in a smaller battle? I can’t shake the feeling that although we’re on the right path, we have all the wrong information. We’re not thinking in the right direction.

“What is it, Delilah?” Knox asks, forever the one pushing me to speak my mind.

“I don’t think we know everything when it comes to the archangels, and alive or not, they wanted me to see the vision. I say we focus on figuring out what they said before jumping to conclusions on their whereabouts.” I turn to Harlow, who’s already studying me. “You said you know their language?”

“I know it? No,” she snorts. “The old bastards were protective of their native tongue. Recognized it, however? Certainly. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“Any chance you can translate it, Harlow?” Knox asks. Lenox stands impassive while he addresses her, but a slight frown mars his otherwise aloof features.

She groans, rolling her head on the edge of the armchair. “Why are you hellbent on giving me impossible assignments?”

“Because you told me to my face that it’s not impossible.”

A saccharine smirk curls her lips. “I did, didn’t I?”