Music is Night of the Damned by Peter Gundry. I find that it suits Grand Seer Fabienne for some reason, so play it!
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"And what is that supposed to mean?" demands Sir Kendrick, tone impatient.
"It means everything. In the old times, everything was done by blood—making pacts, sealing them, breaking them." Grand Seer Fabienne doesn't lift her eyes away from me. I fight to remain calm, breathing in and out, controlling the increasingly erratic rhythm of my heart. "This prophecy had been started by blood. Now it will end by blood."
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow. What exactly are the contents of this prophecy?"
"Don't you know the contents of the Song of Prophecy? They're similar, save for the fact that one is written in the Ancient Cambirian language, while the other in modern Perinian."
Sir Kendrick swallows a groan and rubs a tired hand over his face. "It has been centuries since Cambiria fell. No one speaks the language now."
"True, true."
The Bane's eyes flash with anger. "So you're telling me that although you don't know the contents of the Far'hellan Prophecy, you dare to question the Manuscript?"
"It's the Prophecy of Far'hellan," Grand Seer Fabienne corrects coolly. "And I only pass on the word of my ancestors, who all had received theirs from Pst. Zorah herself. Our bloodline has been charged with overwatching the prophecy, nothing more. Everybody of our clan—except for one, who will be in the centre of it all."
"The Deathslayer," I whisper.
Everyone abruptly looks at me. I purse my lips together, mentally chiding myself for allowing that to slip. I take in a deep breath and feign ignorance, praying that I don't raise any suspicions.
"Ah, the long lost son, finally returning home." I lift my chin at the obvious taunt, refusing to show any weakness. "Out of curiosity, I must ask why you've come here, after not seeing us at all for all your life. I should think that your father does not approve of us."
"He doesn't," I say bluntly. She already knows the truth. No use glossing over facts. "But I came here because I thought I may be of some use."
As the words spill out of my mouth, I myself begin to wonder what I'm doing here. Simply because I'm half a Lorelay? What could I contribute with that? I'm a Champion, true, but that's simply not relevant in these parts. They're so far removed from everyone that the outside world hardly matters to them. So long as they pay their taxes and we leave them alone, they're contented.
So...why did I come here?
"Mmph. Anyway, how did you come to know of the Deathslayer?" continues Grand Seer Fabienne.
"My mother. She told me tales of Miraterciel."
I feel the confused gazes on me slowly getting more intense. "Ah, Marcella. Strange thing is, we usually do not divulge this information to outside ears, even to someone with a bit of Lorelay blood in them. Only those who are fully ours know of this—until now, it seems."
I refuse to say anything, to be goaded into letting something else slip.
"There is one other exception..." The Grand Seer pulls out a chair and slowly sinks into it. "If the halfling is of the Deathslayer's bloodline, then she can be told of her inheritance."
A small gasp escapes Gilbert's lips. I sense him edging closer to me—to protect me from what, I don't know.
"Of course, Marcella was never particular good at keeping secrets," suggests Grand Seer Fabienne.
YOU ARE READING
Legacy (Daughter of War #2)
Fantasy**ON HOLD INDEFINITELY** It's been two years since the great battle in the shrine. However, as Perinus strives to recover from its losses, shadows continue to grow throughout the land... A dangerous sickness is spreading throughout the country--one...
