“That explains it,” he says quietly, almost to himself, and the calm in his voice is worse than if he’d screamed. “I always thought the need to kill was a choice I made. Turns out it was made for me.”
His thermal signature plummets, and that scares me more than any spike ever has. Because being the war god’s son means the violence isn’t his fault. The hunger was hardwired before he ever picked up a blade. But Kieran doesn’t want an excuse—he wants ownership. And the Seer took that from him by telling him the most terrifying thing a man like Kieran Cross could hear—that he never had a say in what he became.
The Seer of Origins tilts his massive head, studying Kieran. “Your mother kept her secret,” he says. “And now you have inherited the consequences.”
With that apparently complete, the Seer of Origins steps back, and Consequence drifts forward. His shifting, ethereal form makes my eyes water if I look at it too long, so I focus on his swirling silver eyes instead.
“And now,” he says, his layered voice sending chills down my spine, “we speak of what will be.”
Kieran’s eyes are wide and unfocused, like a man whose foundation cracked beneath his feet. I want to go to him—I want to help—but there’s nothing I could do to help right now. This is a moment he needs to experience on his own.
“The war-blood demands its due.” The Seer of Consequence stops in front of Kieran, leaving trails of silver light in his wake. “You have contained it, controlled it, and channeled it into teaching young warriors. But containment is not elimination, and the blood grows restless.”
I take one step forward. “What does that mean? What’s going to happen to him?”
Those swirling silver eyes turn to me, and it’s like the future is opening beneath my feet, showing me infinite possibilities, all of them equally as terrifying.
“The scholar asks questions while she fears answers.” The Seer sounds almost amused. “How fitting.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply before returning his attention to Kieran and continuing to speak.
“Your fate-thread shows transformation. The hunger you feel now will seem like a mild craving compared to what is coming next. You will be forced to choose between the man you are and the demigod you were born to be.”
“What will I become?” Kieran asks, and it comes out as barely a whisper.
The Seer of Consequence smiles, and there’s nothing comforting in it.
“That, son of Ares, I will not say. Some truths are too heavy to be carried before their time. Know only that it is inevitable. The blood of war cannot be denied forever. And when it claims you...” He pauses, his silver eyes swirling faster. “Everything you love will be tested.”
Kieran stands frozen, not even reaching for the blade that’s on the deck next to his feet.
I never thought I’d see Kieran Cross break. But the man who has seventy-three tally marks on his ribs just learned that the need to put them there was never his choice, and I can see the exact moment the knowledge lands, because his thermal signature does the one thing I’ve never recorded from him: it goes cold.
My fingers extend across the space between us. I want to anchor him, to remind him he’s not alone, to?—
I stop myself.
Because what comfort can I offer? How can I fix this? I can’t. Especially not right now, with the others watching and the rest of us soon to be judged.
Kieran doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t look at anyone. He just stares at the deck like he’s seeing the monster he’s destined to become.
The Seer of Origins speaks into the silence.
“The warrior’s judgment is complete. Who will be next?”
22
EVIE
The Seerof Essence’s burning red gaze swings to me.
“The scholar.”
I force myself to meet those terrible eyes without flinching, and my brain’s already racing, cataloging what they might find, trying to prepare defenses for secrets I’ve kept?—
The Crown. They’re going to see the Crown.
But the Seer of Origins speaks first, his ember-gold eyes fixing on me with that ancient, knowing weight.