Chapter 7 · The Prophecy They Deleted

Ella's hand shook as she pressed her thumb to the seal.

The basement archive smelled like dust and old ink and something else—something burnt. The kind of smell that stuck in your throat. She'd told Mark and the others to wait in Toria's storage room three floors up. Veran had argued. Toria had just smiled that knife-edge smile and said she'd keep the coder alive for another hour, maybe two.

The seal cracked. Red wax fell in chunks onto the stone floor.

She shouldn't be down here. Apprentice priestesses didn't get archive access. Especially not to the Amended Records section. Especially not to files marked with her mother's name.

But if the prophecy had been edited—if someone had changed it after the summoning went wrong—then Mark wasn't the mistake. The church was.

And her mother had died saying exactly that.

The file box was smaller than she'd expected. Plain wood, iron corners, no decoration. Ella lifted the lid. Inside, three things: a roll of parchment, a finger-length crystal stylus, and a leather cord with a single gray bead.

She recognized the bead. Her mother used to wear it.

Her throat went tight.

She reached for the parchment.