A Promised Prophecy

Chapter Sixty-Two

"What are you still doing here?" The sound of Callisto's voice pulled me back into the moment. I turned to look at him and then back at the two kings on the other side of the glass wall. Callisto followed my gaze and then began walking toward me. "You must leave now."

I trusted Callisto more than I trusted king Cetus and, really, it was only because James trusted Callisto. Outside of that, I didn't know him enough to trust him myself. However, of those who came to the Vault to check on me, I wasn't surprised it was him. James wouldn't be able to and Est had been around far too long to be able to squeeze out of the public eye of Silverleaf when shit was hitting the fan. She'd been an apprentice of the leader of Silverleaf since she was a pre-teen. Decades of support to their leader was the equivalent of power, or at least indicative of leadership. Callisto, on the other hand, well, he wasn't even from Silverleaf as far as I could tell. Though he shared a relationship with Est of some form, he wasn't important to the people or image of current leaders.

"I need to get something before I go, I'm not ready to leave yet." I carefully crafted my response. Again, it was one that wouldn't offend Cetus and spoke to my apprehension without coming across as actual concern.

Callisto looked at me and didn't speak. I wondered how much James could've briefed him on the situation. Did he have time to let him know that King Cetus would be able to hear us talk? I kept my face directed to him but pointed my eyes at the cabinet of restricted books behind me. Without moving his head, he quickly glanced at the cabinet and then back at me. He sighed a knowing sigh and then pulled the two swords from the holsters on his hips and struck at the cabinet. Immediately he reached for his head and screamed out in a pain I hadn't heard escape someone's lips since my own injuries in Dreadshade Summit.

He collapsed to the floor and I instinctively fell down with him, reaching out to support his heavy frame. He landed on one knee, his hands still glued to the side of his head, and beads of sweat formed around his forehead. For a brief moment, the eyes he'd shut in pain opened quickly and he swatted at me, as if he was pressuring me to grab the item that caused him the pain in the first place. At least, that's what it felt like at first, but then he restrained himself, grabbing at his arm with the other, holding it closer to his body. I stood up, reached into the cabinet and grabbed as many of the books as I could carry.

"No," he cried. I stopped at the sudden outburst, halfway pulled out of the cabinet with an armful of books. But he wasn't speaking to me. It seemed there was more than one curse placed on the cabinet and one caused immense pain and, at least one more seemed to cause illusions. "I don't want to go back there. Please."