Chapter 154 The Relic’s Song
When the world is built on a lie, the truth is the only weapon that doesn't miss.
"How?" My father’s voice was a low growl. He stared at my hand. "That locket was destroyed in the 1902 fire. It was a digital ghost in the gas. It shouldn't be here."
"Maybe you don't know your own history as well as you think, Henry," I said.
I stepped out of the salt circle. The silver dust stung my ankles, but I didn't stop. I felt the tiny life inside me flare. It was like a small coal burning in the center of my being.
Evan watched me from the chair. His eyes were wide. "Cass, be careful. The needle... It’s not just a sedative. It’s a wipe."
"I know," I said.
My sister stepped forward. The silver syringe glinted under the single lightbulb. "Give it to me, Cassia. The locket doesn't belong to you. It belongs to the Archive."
"It belongs to our mother," I said. I looked her in the eye. "Do you remember her, Sarah? Before he told you that you were a neighbor? Before he told you that you were a mistake?"
Sarah flinched. The needle shook in her hand. "He saved me. He gave me a purpose."
"He gave you a cage!" I shouted.
I didn't wait. I snapped the locket open.
There was no violet mist this time. There was no map. Instead, a high, clear sound filled the cellar. It was the sound of a woman singing. It was a lullaby, old and sweet, echoing off the damp brick walls.
The effect was instant.
The violet gas, the thin haze that had been clouding my mind for three days began to swirl. It was being sucked into the locket. The cellar became sharp. The shadows became solid.
My father let out a cry of pain, clutching his head. "Shut it off! The frequency... It’s destroying the network!"
But Sarah was frozen. She wasn't clutching her head. She was listening. Tears began to track through the dust on her face.
"Mother," she whispered.
"She left this for us," I said, moving closer to her. "She knew he would try to erase her. She hid her voice in the silver. It’s a frequency the Board can't control because it's built on love, not logic."
"Enough!" Henry Marlowe roared.
He lunged for the locket. He was fast, but I was faster. The silver dust on the floor was losing its power as the gas cleared. My muscles coiled. My vision turned amber.
I didn't change into a beast. I didn't need to. I just moved with the grace of the thing I was becoming. I dodged his reach and spun behind him, grabbing the heavy iron key from the wall.
The chair, Cassia! Evan’s thought hit me like a physical touch. The bolts are loose!
I slammed the key into the wooden leg of Evan’s chair. The old wood splintered. Evan lunged forward, using his weight to snap the leather straps. He rolled onto the floor, gasping for air.
"Sarah, help us!" I cried.
My sister looked at our father. Then she looked at the needle. Then she looked at me.
"I was never a masterpiece," she said, her voice trembling. "I was just a witness."
She didn't jab me. She turned and jammed the silver needle into our father’s arm.
Henry Marlowe screamed. It wasn't a human sound. It was the sound of a thousand years of machinery breaking down. His skin began to ripple. His eyes flickered between blue and yellow.
"You... ungrateful... brat..." he wheezed.
He slumped to the floor, the silver "wipe" intended for me now erasing his own control over the fever.
"We have to go," Sarah said, her face pale. "The Board's soldiers are at the gate. The lullaby triggered the alarm. They’ll burn the house to hide the evidence."
"What about you?" I asked, grabbing Evan’s hand. He was weak, but he was standing.
"I’ll buy you time," Sarah said. She picked up a silver-plated rifle from the table. "I’ve spent twenty years being a neighbor. It’s time I acted like a sister."
"Sarah, no!"
"Go!" she shouted. "The storm is breaking. Follow the creek. It leads to the North Pass. Don't look back until you see the snow!"
Outside, a massive crack of thunder shook the house. Rain began to pour, washing the silver dust from the cellar windows.
I looked at Evan. He nodded. We ran for the stairs.
As we reached the top, the front door of the house burst open. Men in grey coats swarmed in. They didn't have faces, just gas masks that looked like insect eyes.
"The girl!" one of them shouted.
We dove through the kitchen window, glass shattering around us. We hit the wet grass and sprinted for the tree line.
The rain was cold, but it felt like a blessing. It washed the smell of the cellar from my skin. It made the air taste like life.
We reached the creek. The water was rising, turning into a muddy torrent.
"Cassia, wait," Evan gasped, leaning against a tree. He was shivering. "The baby... is he okay?"
I put my hand on my stomach. The heat was still there. It was a steady, quiet pulse. "He’s strong, Evan. He’s a Marlowe-Thorne. He doesn't give up."
Evan pulled me into his arms. He kissed me, and for the first time in three days, it wasn't a simulation. I could taste the rain on his lips. I could feel the real thud of his heart.
"We’re going to make it," he whispered.
But then, the howling started.
It wasn't coming from the house. It was coming from the mountains ahead of us.
A dozen pairs of red eyes appeared in the brush. These weren't the Board's wolves. These weren't my father's experiments.
These were the Ancient Ones. The ones who had been waiting a thousand years for the New King to be born.
One of them, a wolf as white as the moon, stepped forward. He didn't growl. He bowed his head.
"The prophecy is true," the wolf said, his voice echoing in our minds. "The vessel carries the sun."
"Who are you?" I asked, stepping back.
"We are the Guardians of the Peak," the wolf said. "And we are here to take the child to the Altar."
"You aren't taking him anywhere," Evan said, his hand tightening on mine.
"If he stays with you, the Board will find him," the wolf said. "If he comes with us, he will rule the world. But you, mother... You cannot follow where he is going."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
The white wolf looked at the locket in my hand. "The silver in that locket is the price of his safety. To save the child, you must give up the mother."
"Choose, Cassia Marlowe," a new voice said.
I turned. My father was standing at the edge of the clearing. He was pale, but he was standing. He held a small, glowing remote in his hand.
"The wolves want his soul," my father said. "The Board wants his blood. And I? I just want to see which one of you is willing to die for him first."
He pressed the button.
A ring of fire erupted around us, trapping us with the ancient wolves and the man who wanted to harvest our lives.
"Evan," I whispered. "I think the storm is just beginning."
What is the Altar of the Peaks, and will Cassia have to give up her humanity to save her child from both the Board and the Guardians?