The first has a stone-like form covered in scars that look older than civilization itself. His eyes glow ember-gold, and when his gaze sweeps over our ship, the pressure on my chest is immediate and immense.
The second is muscular and armored, built like a warrior god, with eyes that burn bright red. It’s like looking into the heart of a volcano.
The third is ethereal and shifting, his form flickering at the edges like he can’t decide what shape to take. His eyes swirl silver, and looking at him makes my brain hurt, as if I’m trying to solve an equation with too many variables.
“We are Geryon. The Three Who See.”
The ancient one’s voice resonates through my bones, through the deck, through the water itself.
“I am the Seer of Origins.” His ember-gold eyes fix on each of us, and when they land on me, every pretense I’ve ever built burns away in a single breath, like he’s seeing every secret I’ve ever kept. “They are the Seers of Essence and Consequence.” He looks to the red-eyed one first, then the ethereal one. “You seek passage through our gate.”
The armored one speaks next, his voice booming like thunder.
“But passage requires judgment.”
Then the ethereal one, his layered voice echoing in ways that shouldn’t be possible.
“And judgment requires truth.”
Kieran’s hand moves to his blade, his shoulders tense, his weight shifting to the balls of his feet.
The red-eyed one—Essence—looks at him with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. “Mortal weapons cannot harm us. Witch fire cannot burn us. We are judgment itself, and judgment cannot be destroyed.”
Jade steps forward, and I have to admire her courage, even if it is incredibly stupid. “What do you want?” she asks. “What do we have to do to pass?”
“Each of you will be judged by all three aspects,” the Seer of Origins says. “There will be no lies.”
“No masks,” the Seer of Essence adds.
“And no mercy,” the Seer of Consequence finishes, his silver eyes swirling faster.
My pulse hammers in my throat.
Oliver. The Crown. The heat signatures that ended in a blast pattern with no trail leading away.
The Seer of Origins—who seems to be their main spokesperson—continues, “You cannot leave this strait until judgment is complete. This is the price of passage. This is the cost of returning to the mortal realm.”
“And if we refuse?” Kieran’s grip is so tight on his sword that his knuckles are turning white.
The three of them smile, and the expressions look wrong on faces that old, like cracks forming in stone.
“Then you remain in the Lost Islands until the stars burn out, the sea runs dry, and time itself forgets your names,” the Seer of Consequence says.
All right. Refusing isn’t an option then.
I look around at our group. Jade’s electricity is crackling from her fingertips to her elbows. Logan’s face is blank—alwayscontrolled, always calm. Callie’s swaying on her feet. Kieran’s coiled and ready for a fight he can’t win.
Then there’s me. Evelyn Thorne, the girl who thought she could find her brother by following heat trails across impossible seas.
I’ve spent my whole life searching for truth in books, in patterns, and in the thermal signatures that tell stories no one else can read. Now truth is being demanded of me, and I’m terrified of what it might reveal.
“Fine.” The word comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Judge us. Do whatever you have to do so we can get home.”
Jade whips around to stare at me. “Evie?—”
“What choice do we have? They said we can’t leave until it’s done. So, let’s get it done.”
The Seer of Origins tilts his massive head, studying me with those ancient ember-gold eyes.