Divined by Emily Wibberley Page B

said, already turning back to the next scroll.
    You won’t find anything that will help you in here , Vazuil hissed.
    Clio smiled. You sound nervous. I’m coming for you, Vazuil. I’m coming for all of you.

CHAPTER TWENTY

    Clio returned to the library each day as soon as the temple opened. Ealis came in the evenings, after he had attended to his duties as a healer and councilor. Each night, he brought supper and asked Clio what she had found, and each night, Clio confessed she was no closer to finding out who was behind the attack.
    Ashira came from time to time, but she always left early, and her mind was never focused. Clio sensed that the girl had taken to searching the city for any trace of Ixie. They never spoke about Ixie’s departure. When Clio had explained that Ixie was gone, Ashira hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t needed to. Clio had seen the blame in the girl’s eyes. Staying in the library was easier than facing Ashira’s heartbreak.
    But as more days passed and Clio still wasn’t any closer to finding anything useful, Vazuil got worse and worse. And when she unrolled a new scroll one day, a drop of blood landed on the brown ink. She felt a pinching beneath her eyes, and then blood poured from her nose.
    “Ealis!” she called, holding her thick sleeve up to staunch the bleeding.
    “What happened?” He rushed to her side and tilted her head back.
    “I found him—Vazuil—the Low One. He’s here.” Her eyes and nose stung, but she barely felt it. Vazuil was angry, and whatever made him angry was something that could help her.
    “The Low One,” Ealis read, “Looked down on by his brothers for his lies and sly manipulations. Ruthless but weak. His followers have turned from him over the years as he has fallen in the ranks of the Deities.”
    Clio laughed, and blood dripped into her mouth. “Not as strong as he likes to pretend. Perhaps I should summon you,” she called to the ceiling. “Perhaps you’re weak enough to be killed.”
    Summon me, please. A mortal cannot kill a Deity, not while he’s worshipped. And I’m worshipped still, mark my words. Summon me though, and we’ll see what happens.
    Soon, Vazuil , she promised.
    You think you would be better off without me, Clio? Two scrolls to the left. Look and see what your future holds without me.
    All at once, she felt his presence lift from her mind. Her nose ceased its bleeding, and for the first time in days, her thoughts were clear. It was a trick. She knew it was. Still, she eyed the scroll two slots to the left from where she’d taken Vazuil’s. Her father. She felt it even before she pulled it down.
    “What is it?” Ealis asked.
    Her hands were shaking. Instead of black lettering, an image grew as she unrolled the parchment. At first, all she saw was red. Red screaming faces, twisted with agony. One half of the image was a violent tangle of body parts strewn across the base of an altar. A colossal man stood before the altar, looking down on a row of people lined up and walking toward the carnage, seemingly prepared for the slaughter awaiting them. The man was drenched in blood, his hands covered in gore. But in the middle of all the red, his eyes stood out, white and depthless. Clio remembered those eyes.
    “‘The Bloodied One’,” Ealis read over her shoulder.
    “My father,” Clio whispered, feeling sick.
    “ This is your father?”
    His parting words came back to her. Tell me, can you not foresee your end now, Oracle?
    She could. It was staring up at her. And if she hadn’t bargained with Vazuil, this bloody monster would be the one controlling her mind, sending her Visions, torturing her. Suddenly, she wasn’t so eager to break her ties to Vazuil.
    “But his mark doesn’t match the one you saw,” Ealis said, pointing to the symbol on her father’s chest. “Neither does Vazuil’s.”
    She flung the scroll back into its slot, not wanting to see it any longer, knowing it was already burned into her eyes—a vision