Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 51: Empty (Part 2)

Music is A New Dawn from The Last Of Us OST. Play it!

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I safely avoid everyone after that council throughout the day. Everyone. Even Gilbert and Allura, who both tried to corner me in the dining hall. I quickly gulped down the watery broth—we're already trying to ration our food—and mumbled an excuse before ducking through them. Needless to say, they looked worried.

They should be.

I should have seen it coming. I should have known that Diomedes wouldn't let me off so easily. I should have known that sooner or later, I'd have to make the damning decision—surrender and live, or fight and die.

Both are not very pleasant options.

I sit cross-legged on my bed. My old bed, in my old room in Castle Rutherland. The dust covers had immediately been lifted the moment my unexpected arrival was announced, but there are still hints of disuse settling all over the place. It's large and comfortable, with ornate furnishings filling up the space; the bed itself is bigger, softer than the one back in Cordair. Yet I find myself aching for the little room I had. Perhaps it's because of all the memories back there, maybe it's because of the sense of familiarity in its worn sheets. It just feels wrong to be sleeping in Castle Rutherland. As though I'd already made my mark in the capital; as though I've already attached myself to it.

Cordair. No use thinking about that now, I remind myself, shoving away non-existent emotions. Instead, I close my eyes, reaching into the thresholds of my mind, reaching out to Abner. "Hello?" I call out tentatively once I've crossed into the space.

Abner's figure slowly materialises in front of me. "Constantine, I've been expecting you."

I raise a supercilious brow. "Am I really that predictable now?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I thought that it was only natural after Diomedes' little proposal."

He knows. Good. Then I don't have to explain everything to him. "How do I defeat him?"

If mists can be heavy, Abner definitely looks like it. The varying shades of grey and black which form his figure sag downwards, as if a thousand mountains are pressing atop him. "The scrinaius. You have to destroy the alatrigne," he finally says.

"The alatrigne?" An image of the elaborate-looking sacred bowl positioned in the centre of the shrine flashes in my mind. "Why?"

"Diomedes has been using it to summon his wraiths. I only realised that just now."

"Before, you told me the necessary tools to summon wraiths were an athame and rope. Why the alatrigne?"

"True. However, to conjure up thousands upon thousands of ghosts out of mid-air like that would be too great a feat. Even for Diomedes. He needed a focal point of power, somewhere easy to pierce through the barriers of Life and Death. That focal point so happens to be the alatrigne."

"It was used in ancient rituals..." I mutter. "Necromancy being one of them?"

Abner nods. I exhale through my teeth. "Perfect. I barely escaped Cordair one week ago, and now you're telling me to go back there. What do you expect me to do? Waltz straight into Diomedes' defences and greet him like we're long lost friends?" I don't bother to hide my sarcasm. I don't bother to hide my hollowness. Not in front of Abner, at least.

"Constantine." He takes a step towards me. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," I reply frankly. I truly don't know if I'm all right, if I even know what 'all right' means anymore.