[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]
They were both silent for a few long seconds before Phelan cleared his throat. His voice still came out as a croak.
“Olympium was one of the most powerful factions of old,” he said, his face pale in the lamplight. “They came after us hard in the old days. They—they were the ones—”
He broke off, unable to continue. He didn’t have to. My heart had already seized up and I slowly sat down where I stood, still cradling Kurt in my arms. The memories hit like a freight train, memories that belonged to another me, a me from a hundred lifetimes ago.
It was them. It was them. They took him and broke him and kept him from you and it’s their fault. They started the war. They started what eventually became the end for all of us.
They were the southrons.
I swore under my breath, biting down hard on my lower lip. Neve came toward me and I just barely managed to stop myself from pushing her away.
“They brought Thesan with them,” I said. “They brought Thesan with them to use her as a weapon like they used—”
“The Ridden Druid,” Cariocecus rasped. “Like they used the Ridden Druid and like they used the Hecate.”
All of us looked at him. My heart had risen into my throat.
“And yet—”
“I know, Seer,” Cariocecus said quietly. “But I did tell you that you owed me a favor for that.”
He’d taken her away in the middle of a fight, stopped her from doing more damage to us, accused her of poaching on his patch. It had been utterly strange at the time.
Now, suddenly everything made sense.
“How much do you know?” I asked.
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes gleaming strangely. He struggled to sit up, grunting in pain and holding his side where he’d been wounded.
“Enough,” he whispered. “I know enough.”
