The Omen of Stones

by Casey L. Bond

  “Why would Fate do that?” he breathed, clutching my elbows and reeling me in, searching me for an answer that Fate had not yet revealed.

  “I don’t know.”

  Though I didn’t say it, I hoped this wasn’t a punishment for the spell I used to bind my soul to Tauren’s. In essence, the working of that spell meant I didn’t trust Fate to see me and Tauren through the difficulties we faced when someone was trying to kill him. I’d given my soul to ensure he lived, when it might not have been Fate’s plan in the end.

  If I had it to do over, I would do it again.

  Maybe that was why Fate left me so easily, how he knew I was wholly Tauren’s and no longer his obedient daughter. A new creature who would do whatever it took to protect her loved ones.

  I was still that creature.

  And I would be damned if anyone, especially a Renk boy, would be allowed to come after my son, or by extension, the other Fate-Kissed.

  “I can see what you’re thinking, but don’t do it, Sable. Dark magic is dangerous,” Brecan warned.

  “They are using it. Don’t you see?” I glanced from him to Tauren. “The only way to fight dark magic is to command it.”

  27

  River

  Mira offered chairs at the head of one of the tables instead of separating us, and I was grateful she recognized our need for privacy in the midst of so many witches. She sat as a buffer between her Water witches and us, the Fate-Kissed, along four elongated tables and equally lengthy benches that stretched down a long dining room. Candle-covered chandeliers hung overhead, the pale tapers melting and dripping wax rivulets down their smooth sides.

  The cool tang of fresh water filled the air from an array of fountains located throughout the space, including intricate water designs built into the walls. A luminescent stream covered with a clear glass footpath ran in a wide brook through one section of the House in a dazzling display of the witches’ affinity.

  Lyric sat quietly watching everyone but refrained from joining the conversation. Sky was…Sky. A little stand-offish but answering Mira’s questions about North Village. Mira didn’t ask anything too personal, just seemed interested in the three villages and how differently the triplets had been raised, yet how similarly their powers materialized and were used.

  Mira was good at fishing, and her prey rarely saw her line or hook until it was too late. Omen caught on pretty fast.

  “So, how do you feel about Thirteen?” Mira asked Omen innocently. In the candlelight, Mira’s robes were dark blue, nearly black. She chewed a chunk of bread, waiting on Omen’s answer.

  “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “With the affinities?” Mira pressed.

  Omen took a moment before answering, wiping her mouth with a napkin the color of pale waters over white sands. “The affinities, the separation of them into Houses, how your power as Priestess differs from theirs. It works well, considering how divided you all are.”

  Omen could go on.

  Mira was kind enough to explain that the Priest and Priestesses were Goddess-blessed, perhaps in the same way the four of us were Fate-Kissed. What Mira didn’t know was how powerful Omen was compared to the other three of us.

  Omen and I overheard Sky whispering to Lyric on the short walk across the Center lawn to dinner and had posed the same question, thinking we were too far behind to hear. She’d also asked Lyric if she knew why the two of us were so close.

  Lyric had shaken her head at the questions.

  At the time, I brushed my pinky against Omen’s and told her not to let it bother her. She gave a half-hearted smile that quickly faded.

  I wished there were words to comfort her, but Omen was obviously an anomaly among the four of us, and there was nothing that would change that unless Fate wanted it to. He’d gifted her his strength and power, which meant he needed and wanted her to be exactly as she was and needed us to be what we were. We had different abilities for a reason.

  The witches were loud when gathered as a group, the din of laughter and conversation thunderous as we chatted over the clinking of utensils against ceramic and glass against wood. Leaving us to the company of Thirteen, Mom and Dad had returned to the palace to do some research. Knox was likely debriefing them further about the situation.

  “So,” Sky said, turning to face us when Mira left the table to speak to Arron, who had arrived suddenly in the main doorway. “What do you make of Edward?”

  “I’m not sure what to think,” Omen answered truthfully. “He was always kind. Too arrogant and thought himself important, maybe, but he didn’t hate me. Not as far as I could tell. He was always adamant that the villagers respect me and they did. They appreciated the protection my wards provided. Did you two feel the same way?”

  Sky teetered a flat palm in the air. “Somewhat. He didn’t come to North Village often, so while my neighbors came to me if they had to, I wouldn’t say they were overly friendly. They weren’t mean, though.”

  Lyric leaned forward, an uneasy look on her face.

  “What is it?” Sky asked.

  She swallowed thickly before quietly answering. “I think he was only kind because he was afraid of me,” she admitted. “He would visit long enough to make sure I was happy and comfortable, then leave. He never lingered long. I heard him talking to the man who lived next door about how I was protecting them, but he also asked him if he felt I was controlling anyone.”

  “How did he know you could?” Omen asked.

  Lyric looked embarrassed. “There were a few incidents when I was young, but I didn’t know I was doing it until a woman pointed it out one day. I wanted a treat, and the baker had just made a pie for his son’s birthday. I begged him for a slice, just a small one, and when he refused, I sang a song telling him that he should give me one. So, he did. His wife was furious. She shooed me out of their house with a broom.”

  “Did you get the slice of pie, at least?” Sky teased with a grin.

  Lyric shook her head. “I left and spent the next week terrified because she threatened to tell Edward. She said he would send me away, but he didn’t. He just warned me not to use my powers for selfish reasons. He said I’d anger the goddess and she would take my power away. That’s when he said it was best that I didn’t talk to anyone in the village again. He forbade it.”

  “But he never lashed out at any of us,” Sky observed. “I just don’t get it. If he hated your mother for killing his brother, and if Judith killed our mother because she was a witch, why would they take us in and raise us for a time? Why wouldn’t they have drowned us in the river?”

  “Because he needed you,” I told them.

  “For what?” Sky asked, throwing her hands up.

  Lyric regarded me with wide, curious eyes.

  Omen shook her head. “That’s what we need to figure out. There must be a larger picture that we can’t see from our current vantage point.”

  Sky went still, her eyes unfocused. Then she looked up at the ceiling, or so I thought, until thunder rumbled in the distance. She excused herself, threw her napkin down, and hurried from the room. Lyric, Omen, and I followed her, the Water witches murmuring about our hasty exit.

  She jogged through the hall, over the covered stream, out onto the porch and into the yard. When she got there, she turned in a circle with her arms outstretched. A crisp fog slithered over the soil, and what should have been rain, fell as heavy clumps of snow.

  Lyric hugged herself to keep warm, looking around with a question in her eyes. A question we all thought but hadn’t voiced. What was happening?

  Just then, a spirit appeared, one I wish I’d never seen. One that my mother had conjured by showing us her memory of his last moments.

  Jensen Renk.

  “How are you here?” I asked. Mom told me that Fate had demanded his soul. Did he release it? Or had the witch emplo
yed by his brother somehow wrenched it from Fate’s hands? Could dark magic really be that powerful? If so, I wasn’t sure we were prepared for this battle.

  Renk was young. His neck was bruised, the vertebrae offset where they’d snapped when he was hanged. His hair was dark like Edward’s and they shared the same dark eyes. The shape of their noses and jaws was similar, though Jensen’s was more boyish and round. Jensen’s dimples deepened when he smiled. He looked me up and down, then turned to Omen.

  His grin turned feral. Slowly, he approached her.

  I stepped in front of her. “Don’t go near her.” Omen’s slight frame was poised behind me, her delicate fingers bracing against my back. In my periphery, I saw her sisters move to flank her.

  “Who is it?” Sky asked.

  “Jensen Renk,” I gritted.

  Lyric let out a hiss that echoed all around us, resonating through my breastbone.

  Fate filled me with energy. It buzzed through me, white-hot and urgent. Protect Omen of stones.

  I reached out for Jensen, suddenly feeling the urge to do so. I was sure my hand would pass through him, but it didn’t. I clamped onto his forearm tightly. He looked shocked, his mouth gaping as he stared in bewilderment at my grip on him. He screamed, his jaw coming unhinged as he tugged and pulled to get away.

  A white light poured out of my hand and suddenly, Renk was gone. The temperature rose and the clumps of snow were replaced by fat drops of rain.

  Fate had obliterated him.

  “What just happened?” Omen yelled over the roaring sky.

  I spun to face her, still thrumming with energy. “Jensen Renk was coming for you.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure.”

  “What did you do to him?” Sky asked. “Did you banish him back to the spirit realm?”

  Lyric studied my expression. All three of them did, waiting for me to answer.

  It was hard to breathe. My chest heaved, hungry for more air. I could still feel Fate’s power thrumming through my veins. I stared at my hands. They looked normal. No more light poured from my skin. “Far worse than that.”

  The sky overhead turned from a stormy gray to a menacing shade of black and green. Thunder shook the needles on the pines as angry gusts of wind tore through the Center.

  “What’s happening?” Omen yelled. “Is this you, Sky?”

  Sky shrugged in confusion, even as I replayed how Renk looked at Omen like he’d found the thing he’d come for, how he wanted only her, and I felt like I’d stepped out of my body. For a second, I lost myself to blinding swirls of anger, rage, and fear; I became the embodiment of those things. In response, the elements turned turbulent around me.

  “River!” Mom screamed from the porch of the House of Air. Dad and Brecan chased after her as she raced toward me. “River, no! Don’t call on the darkness.”

  I tilted my head to the side, confused by her sudden appearance and accusation. “I haven’t…”

  She nodded. “You have. Whatever it is, you have to let go of it now.”

  Omen quickly told her what happened. Mom looked horrified, which made the emotions churning through me that much worse. “River,” she snapped. “Let go of the rage. It’s the only way to save Omen.”

  I took in Omen’s frightened expression, horrified when I realized I was scaring her. I concentrated and released the anger roiling through me. The storm’s darkness faded away, replacing storm-darkened clouds with innocuous, gray rain clouds, the wind completely disappearing. The startled witches who had gathered all around us began backing away. Mira gave me an apologetic look.

  “I didn’t mean to call on dark magic. I didn’t do it on purpose,” I tried to explain, seeking to reassure not only my mom, but every witch who’d witnessed it.

  The storm began before Jensen Renk appeared, which meant I didn’t create the storm. But I made it deadly. And I wasn’t sure how.

  Omen stood near me, a stunned look on her face. She probably hated me now. I was dangerous to her. I was a danger to everyone.

  “I’m sorry,” I tried, frustrated that it wasn’t enough.

  Sky watched me more warily than ever, but Lyric’s eyes were kind, shining with empathy instead of fear. I was afraid to see what was in Omen’s.

  My hands shook and I couldn’t get them to stop. I crossed my arms and then let them hang down, but Fate’s power still hummed, writhing in my bones. It seemed he wasn’t finished yet.

  “What’s happening to you, River?” Omen asked, taking my hands in hers.

  “Fate,” I said through chattering teeth.

  “Fate allowed you to call on dark magic?”

  “I’ve never called on dark magic or used it before in my life. He gave me the power, making it so I could defend you against Jensen Renk.” I dropped my eyes in shame. “I touched him, Omen. Grabbed hold of his arm and surprised us both. But it was Fate’s power that allowed it.”

  “It was Fate’s, and it was yours,” she said softly, brushing her thumbs over the backs of my hands.

  Slowly, the violent tremors turned to shudders, the shudders to a soft thrum, and then the thrumming faded completely away.

  Sky and Lyric exchanged a glance. Sky nodded, almost as if the two were somehow talking with their minds instead of their mouths. Lyric pursed her lips and announced, “We felt Fate pour his magic into you, River.”

  “So did I,” Omen agreed.

  I looked to Mom, who shook her head in bewilderment. “I just heard the violence of the storm and came to see what had called it. Truthfully, I expected it to be you,” she said, nodding to Sky.

  Sky gave an answering nod. “I didn’t call the storm or intensify it, but I felt it as it approached. Something was off and I couldn’t figure out why it felt so strange. That’s why I ran outside.”

  Lyric bent to graze her hand along the thick drifts of snow piled above our ankles, crystalline and frigid.

  In summer.

  She looked up at me, concern knitting her brow.

  Opening my mouth to apologize, Omen squeezed my hand. “No apology is necessary. You protected me. You protected all of us, River.”

  “Someone used dark magic to steal Renk’s soul from Fate, and he is furious,” Mom said slowly, pinching her bottom lip. “Who could work a spell strong enough to strip a soul away from him?”

  “Who would chance his wrath?” I added.

  “Someone who doesn’t fear it,” Omen suggested, “or else someone who craves it.”

  Sky ticked her head back. “A trap for Fate?”

  Omen shrugged. “Get rid of Fate’s influence, and what could stand in your way? The entire world – human and witch, dead and living – would bow at your feet.”

  “Witches could still defend themselves,” Brecan asserted.

  “They could, but against dark magic, they would fail,” Mom told him. “Omen’s right.”

  Brecan’s face and voice were grim. “We have to find the witch responsible for this. I’ll call the Circle. Sable, they’ll want to discuss matters with you.”

  She nodded and Brecan strode from House to House gathering the Priestesses of the Houses of Fire, Earth, and Water, as well as Arron, Guardian of the House of Fate.

  Arron approached first, his slitted eyes skimming over each of us. “One of the Fate-Kissed should guard his house,” he announced.

  Mom gaped at him.

  The power of Fate had overwhelmed us all, but now wasn’t the time to implement such a permanent change. The four Fate-Kissed had to stay together until we figured out who was orchestrating the threat against us and Nautilus, and how to end it.

  “Until he chooses one of them, you agreed to be Guardian,” Mom reminded him.

  Arron reluctantly shook his head. “Fate will choose one of them,” he warned, his eyes settling on Lyric.<
br />
  Does Arron already know Fate’s choice?

  We followed the Priestesses and Priest into the wood, where their robes seemed to come alive.

  Ethne, though she was older than the rest, looked young and spry, leading our group with light, quick steps. Flame licked at the bottom of her robes, spreading upward and stopping at her waist, the fire never burning fabric or flesh. Though her fire charred some of the leaves and needles littering the forest floor, they merely flared, turned orange, and burned out. If a real fire began, Ethne could cut its life in an instant. Fire was an integral part of her, like water was part of Mira.

  Mira’s sapphire blue robes stretched toward the ground, crashing around her calves in frothy torrents and receding again, leaving a watery trail glistening in her wake. Ivy’s green robes were the deep, verdant hue of healthy pine needles. Intertwined throughout the fabric a vine of ivy grew, swirling around her from shoulder to ankle. New life sprouted from every step she took, bright green carpets trailing her wake. Brecan’s airy blue robes blew behind him as if he walked into a stout headwind, his long, silvery hair streaming with it.

  At my left, Sky sighed, and I wondered if her attraction to him was no more than a longing to be closer to the very thing for which she was made. Brecan commanded the air, the dynamic power that pushed the clouds she loved so much across the heavens.

  Omen remained close, and occasionally our hands would accidentally brush. I loved the feeling and wondered if she felt the same, or if we should even spend time thinking about such things given the dark times in which we found ourselves.

  Lyric stepped close to Omen. “I need to speak with you privately after this,” she whispered.

  Omen nodded once and gave her sister a small, encouraging smile.

  Brecan’s wind made the bones hanging in the trees howl again, which set my teeth on edge. I waited for a spirit to appear, hoping that if any did, it was Illana. Perhaps she could help us from her realm, or perhaps she could employ the help of a more powerful witch, one who could lead us safely to Lindey, and one who could combat the dark power of the witch who’d somehow stripped a soul from Fate himself.