Navin is on his feet in seconds. Instantly their arms move faster than I can follow. Brothers in blood, yet enemies at their core, while each movement seems implausible and confident. It is unbelievable, really, how they strike each other in perfect synchronization. Arek grabs a pair of scissors nearby and uses them to slice Navin’s hand, cheek, and thigh just above the knee. Navin fights back with his knife catching Arek above the brow. Yet soon it is clear that although they are similar in size and strength, it is Arek’s skill that overwhelms Navin’s.

It isn’t until one of Navin’s men emerges from a separate door just beside the bed and holds a gun to my head that Arek backs off—left with no choice.

Arek drops the scissors.

“Take her!” Navin yells.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The guard takes me from the room, and we come upon a winding set of stairs that continues for longer than the eye can see. Nearly three flights down with an iron railing of floral design.

Something about the salty air and the view out the windows makes it feel tropical. The guard doesn’t seem to know what to do as he leads me to the edge.

Security bars are on every window. How will I get out? Yet, I don’t need to worry. Arek’s here, somewhere.

“I’ve got her,” an old man’s voice seems to surf the stairs all the way down. “Go help Navin, I’ll take her,” Japha says to the guard from behind me. His white sweaty hair and gray eyes dig into mine, telling me of the long history that I have yet to remember between us. Then the flash happens, faster than lightning, a tempestuous vision.

I am a child sitting in a cavernous room, beguiled with books and a large fireplace that reminds me of a face, with the heavy aroma of musky wood that fills my nose. Japha stands across from me. His hair is a salt and pepper instead of white, and his fingers, although still arthritic, are straighter than the present.

“Just remember what the Ephemes have taken from us,” he says, coming closer with each slow word. Even then, at only eight years old, there is an awareness that when I am with Japha I am not alone within my thoughts and feel an obsessive need to protect myself. Japha—a representative of the Powers at the time—is revered and loved for his power and his longevity, yet even then he scares me. The man is conniving and powerful, which makes it nearly impossible to figure out his next move. It is no different than the snakes in the field that make no sound until the bite sends poisonous venom up your leg.

Instantly as the visions quickly progress, the truth is alive between us, the memories passing back and forth, and he sees my sudden understanding.

I whisper, “You forced me to be alone with you for hours to convince me Ephemes deserve to die and fed me lies for so long. Did my father know what you were doing all those years?”

“Nothing helps you own the future more than controlling a child. Your father had no idea. He was blind to Lyneva’s intent.” His grizzled and shaky voice gives no indication of care.

His words hit me harder than a bullet, infiltrating my memory with years of his torment. Even in my Epheme life, Japha had made his imprint on me enough to breach my sleep.

Japha chuckles, “You were so convinced that the night Lyneva was killed was part of the Prophecy. If I had more time before Briston hired Kilon and Sassi to protect you day and night . . .” He then turns serious with irritation, “but I had done enough. Your subconscious was formed. And you died because you so blindly believed your mother wouldn’t hurt you. Even when she spent years hating you.”

Then something occurs to me, “Yet, you never knew I would come back?” I watch his eyes for his tell at our poker table. A grin spreads across my face, “You hoped I wouldn’t come back, but I ruined it for you and Lyneva. You had hoped the Prophecy to die with me.”

“Navin is convinced that your child would bring everyone to their knees and give him power, but Lyneva and I both knew the Prophecy was declared by men. There’s no truth to it.”

He forces me to walk down the stairs with a nudge to my back.

I continue, “How many of your loyal rebels did you lose because I came back? Suddenly there’s the possibility again that there might just be some truth to The One?”

Again, he says nothing, yet his teeth crack together from tension.

“What do you tell them now?”

With fast hands he pushes me forward. Instinctively my arms reach for him, but he pulls away. The first strike against the floor is the worst, my body wrenches together like an accordion from my neck to my feet. Then the beating continues as my bones crack all the way down the winding staircase. He hopes to render me useless.

In only moments, Japha meets me at the cement footing at the bottom of the stairs and begins to drag my body across the tile floor, until I am finally able to claw my way to standing. The house appears to be under combat as dust still hangs in the air and men lie lifeless all around.

His eyes cast about trying to figure out the next step and where we will go when clearly there isn’t safety within this house.

Two large double doors at the end of the hall call to him. He throws them open and pulls me inside. Instantly he freezes.

Kilon, Sassi, Kenichi, and Briston stand with their guns pointed in our direction. I let out a shaky breath. Each one of them is dressed in heavy SWAT gear, sweaty and bloody.

Japha yanks me in front of him.

Sassi’s eyes meet mine and nods just slightly while Kilon’s never look away from Japha. His hate is resounding even in silence. Their guns are chambered and ready. The smell of gun powder is already pungent and now so is Japha’s sweat and heavy breath.

We back away as they take small steps forward.

“Japha,” Kilon firmly states.

Japha turns, but his path is quickly obstructed when Arek, Mak, Geo, and Beckah appear on the other side of him with readied weapons.

Kilon’s eyes bulge, and the crease between his eyebrows deepens until the anger contorts his face. I think of what he has been through at the hand of the man holding me so tightly that my arm is turning numb. Kilon keeps one eye closed as his gun directs its assault straight at Japha’s head.

“Kilon,” Arek directs, “not yet.” Arek’s hand is steady as he steps toward us. “Japha . . .”

“Arek there is nothing for you to say,” Japha suggests with a chilling scoff. “Navin and I have put into motion events that you will never be able to control. And for what? For your good? No . . . for the good of everyone in this room. Yet none of it can be stopped. It will happen whether I die today or not.”

Kilon shakes his head and squeezes his hands until I think I can hear his skin rub the metal. “He has no intention of letting her go Arek.”

“My intentions? You know them so well,” Japha growls.

This only enrages Kilon more. Sweat curls down the creases of his face and his lip tightens. The tension in the room builds until the walls seem to bend and Arek directs Kilon again. “Kilon . . . hold back.”

“Remy was yours to protect, Kilon? You never were worth anything—you or your family, or your wife,” Japha spews. Kilon charges forward, but Japha jams the gun behind my ear, forcing Kilon’s feet to screech across the tile floor and stop. “Do you think she can come back to life again? Is she that lucky?” Japha asks. This man rivals the greatest Velieri who have ever lived—the most powerful and the most learned. It is possible that each of us feel him Tracing, his desperation only igniting his power. “I made sure she died once . . .” Japha starts to press the weapon harder against my head. The click of the gun makes me jump and cry out. Yet nothing happens. I groan, my heart trying to tear a hole in my chest. His gun clicks again and again, but it does nothing. Japha swiftly grabs his knife.

Kilon and Arek shoot Japha in the body from both sides. Instantly, Japha’s body turns to stone, and his fingers finally release my skin.

Arek grabs me before I fall with the old man.

While Japha sputters and groans, Kilon stands over him. “Enjoy hell,” he growls. Kilon’s pulsing veins show as he reaches out, confidently places the gun behind Japha’s ear, and takes one shot at a time, calling out his dead family. “For my mom,” he shoots, “for my dad,” again, “for my sister,” and again. He remains bent at the waist, his wavering breath telling us of hundreds of years of suppressed rage, as Sassi comes to his side and touches his face. She pulls him by the chin until he grabs her in an embrace.

“You okay?” Arek whispers to me, as the others immediately load up more weapons.

I nod.

Suddenly Kilon releases Sassi and doesn’t wait before he runs to the door. “Where’s Navin?”

In a flash, we are on the hunt and climb the blood-marred and winding stairs. My wounds have already healed, so I’m able to keep up. We reach the room where I last saw Ian. By the time I walk through the door, Kilon is kneeling over his quiet body. I run to his side, dropping to my knees.

Kilon puts a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry.”

Navin is nowhere to be found, so the others have quietly gathered. “He saved me,” I whisper.

“We’ll get him back home.”

Arek puts a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Let them take him.”