“My name is Emmeryn.”
The Author rose from her bow and gazed upon Delilah with reverence, mingled with something else that Delilah couldn’t read. Though unmistakably an adult, she was barely taller than Delilah, and had a somewhat youthful gleam of curiosity in her dark eyes.
“Emm,” Terevalde said, taking a step forward. “It’s… really you.”
“I am as surprised to see you as you are me,” Emmeryn said, stepping forward to meet him and grasping his hand. Like Terevalde, even when she spoke with a smile in her voice, it didn’t show on her face. “It seems we have both abandoned our long exile.”
“Yes,” Terevalde said. “But, Emm… why are you here? After all that had happened, I thought…”
“I have chosen to be here,” Emmeryn said, nodding to Delilah, “because of her sister. It is a bit of a story, so, if you have the time, I can tell it. But there is much else to do — that is why I am here, after all. The Keybearer needs guidance. With you here, Terevalde… yes. I believe she has a chance.”
“We’ve got time, right?” Alice asked, a hand perched on her hip, her eyes flicking from black to white. “And this town has a ‘storytime’ kind of feel to it, don’t you think?”
“It does,” Isabelle said with a smile and an emphatic nod, her apple-red hair bouncing.
“I want to know about Fae,” Delilah said. “Please.”
“Very well,” Emmeryn said, bowing once again. She turned, walking back up to the building from which she’d left. “Come inside. This is a house of stories. Perfect for what we need to discuss.”
Inside, Delilah stared around in wonderment. Books, books, everywhere she looked. The “house of stories” felt very much like a house rather than a shop or library, with a cozy, intimate feel. On the first floor were ample, stuffed bookshelves in two sitting rooms which both connected to a small kitchen. Each sitting room had a small hearth, a sofa, and a few armchairs. When Emmeryn showed them into one sitting room, Alice immediately plopped down on the sofa, patting the seat next to her as an invitation to Delilah, who sat beside her. Isabelle jumped up to join them, and there was just enough room for Maribelle as well. Marcus and Terevalde took up armchairs to either side of them, while Emmeryn pulled over another armchair to face them.
First, she told them about Fae, and Delilah listened intently, her heart aching for her sister ever since she’d last seen her, a Vessel inhabited by the Sojourner, back in Grimoire. Hearing about the Orphan of the Dawn and Fae’s healing made her heart soar, and hearing how Fae had stood up for her so firmly made her wish even more that she’d been able to say what she’d wanted to Fae the last time she’d seen her.
I need to apologize to her. The longer I go without it, the worse it feels, the heavier the guilt gets.
“I had intended to spend all of my remaining days with Hugo,” Emmeryn said, “assisting with messages from the Orphan of the Dawn and studying under his excellent tutelage. But Fae and Olivia helped me see that I could still be needed. I…” she laid her hands in her lap, bowing her head, “I must confess that I am frightened. But I trust you, Delilah. Thanks to Fae. And thanks to the Key itself — for if it trusts you and names you Keybearer, then you must be exceptional indeed. So I will not allow fear to keep me from where I need to be.” She turned aside, reaching into her bag and pulling out several familiar wooden tablets.
“Pages for the Book?” Delilah asked, leaning forward.
“All the ones that I personally hid,” Emmeryn said. “Some I had carried with me into exile. Others I had secreted away in hidden places, but reclaimed on my way here. If you have found the rest of the Book, then these should complete it.”
“We have all of the pages other than those you took charge of,” Terevalde said. “Emm… thank you.”
“Okay, hold up,” Alice said, sitting back. “You call Gioracchi ‘Gio’ and Emmeryn ‘Emm,’ but you still won’t let anyone shorten your name?”
Before Terevalde could reply, Emmeryn chuckled, and the faintest hint of a smile played across her lips. “You always have been very particular about your name,” she said.
“I’m fond of it,” Terevalde said, looking more confused than offended. “What’s so funny about that?”
“Oh, nothing,” Emmeryn said, shaking her head. The faint hints of a smile remained a moment longer before fading. “Now, then. I can talk you through those pages, and together we should be able to explain the entire Book of the Key. But I think we can save that for later. You are here, in the City of the Lost Bell, for a singular purpose.”
“We need to see the Lost Bell,” Delilah said, “and decide whether or not to ring it. But we don’t know what the two different rings mean. Do you?”
“I know a little,” Emmeryn said. “But there are those in this city who know the rest. If you are ready, come with me.”
Delilah was loathe to leave the “house of stories” so soon. But she had work to do. She added it to the mental list of Locations she longed to visit again, should the adventures end and peace finally come to her and her family.
Isabelle shared a similar sentiment, staring all around as she left, needing to be pulled along by Maribelle to avoid running into bookshelves or walls on the way out.
“Who do we need to see next?” Delilah asked.
“The Bellkeepers,” Emmeryn said, gazing up the hill at the center of the city, atop which sat the stone monument, from which hung the Lost Bell.
They trekked together, Emmeryn and Terevalde walking a bit ahead of the rest, talking to each other in soft voices that Delilah couldn’t make out. But she also actively tried not to eavesdrop. The two of them had been apart for longer than Delilah could imagine. They deserved this time to themselves.
Now that Delilah had seen the city on fire, the city as it had once been in the midst of the Tragedy, the horrific chaos and turmoil that had erupted from Gioracchi’s ringing of the Bells and turning of the Key, she had a new perspective on the city as it was today. The entire city, save the Bell itself, had been razed to the ground — and worse. The ground itself had opened up, great, terrifying pits, swallowing up so much into an empty, hungry void, transforming the landscape forever.
These people had had to start over from scratch. And they had done a tremendous job. The city was far more sparsely populated than it had been in the past, and rather than tall, interconnected towers flanking narrow streets, the city now sported wide open plazas and spaced out, low houses and shops. Yet even though the city had been so dramatically transformed, even though it had lost nearly everything of what it had once been, Delilah could feel the long history of the City of the Lost Bell.
It was hard to describe. There was something all around her, and moving through her, something that went beyond the five senses. She had heard over and over again how the Enchanted Dominion was rich with magic in a way that Earth was not. She’d first really felt that at Revue Palace, and now she felt it again here, deep within her.
The place itself, the land and air and sky above, had memory. It ached with the inconquerable grief of the Tragedy, and Delilah felt that ache like it was her own. Yet despite that deep pain, the city was healing. Some scars never healed, some hurts went too deep to fully erase. But there was a certain beauty, Delilah thought, in people continuing to live here, to nurture the land, to work healing, keeping hope alive for the future.
Up the hill they went, and occasionally people looked out from their windows, or looked up at them as they passed on the street. The looks were full of curiosity, and a certain hesitant unease. But no one spoke to them, no one stopped them.
Delilah’s party stepped out onto a small plateau. In the center was a circular stage, just big enough for one person, and hanging over that stage from a stone frame was the Lost Bell itself.
Delilah had seen it from a distance, but up close the crack running down the Bell’s side was even more prominent, jagged and wide, a gaping wound that could not be healed. The Bell itself also hung slightly crooked, weighed down by the same pain and loss the city itself had suffered.
But even wounded and limping, the Bell was beautiful. Its silver surface gleamed softly in the twilight, subtly glinting here and there with reflections of the purples and soft reds of the glowing horizon. Around its lowest, widest point was an engraved band, winding around the Bell in lettering that Delilah couldn’t read. That same circle of lettering was echoed on the stage itself, carved into the floor around the perimeter.
The plateau was empty, save for them. No Bellkeepers in sight. Emmeryn ushered Delilah forward, and said to her in a soft voice, “Hold out the Key.”
Delilah stepped up to the edge of the stage and did as instructed, holding out the Key on its silver chain.
And then, suddenly, they weren’t alone. Three young women appeared, in a blink, in a heartbeat, one second not there and the next moment there. They stood in a triangle around the stage, two to either side of Delilah and one across from her on the opposite side.
The three young women were identical. They looked about Fae’s age, short, with dark hair tied in long, thick braids and pinned with many intricate silver ornaments in the shapes of stars and crescent moons. They wore identical silky blue shirts beaded with thin, elegant silver tracery, and identical dark pants and high, dark boots with silver buckles. All three of them stared at Delilah with dark eyes that swirled with color — red and green and blue. Silver and dark-blue makeup painted flowers blooming upside-down from their lower eyelids, and thick, black eyelashes led out to silver stars that ran from the outer edges of their eyes to the beginnings of their ears.
“A True Keybearer at last,” said the Bellkeeper across from Delilah. Her voice was rich and mellifluous, and sounded almost like three voices, nearly identical, speaking in perfect unison. “Long have we waited. You wish to ring the Lost Bell?”
“I wish to know what is right,” Delilah said. “There are two ways to ring the Lost Bell, and I’m not sure which one to use.”
The other two Bellkeepers looked to the one across from Delilah, and that one nodded. “We can explain,” she said. “The Keys are sealed. You will need to break the seals. That requires a single ring.”
“Well, that’s easy enough,” Alice said.
“But what does it mean to ring the Bell twice?” Delilah asked. “I don’t feel like we should proceed without knowing what both options mean.”
“You are wise,” said the Bellkeeper across from her. “And correct. Long has it been said ‘if seals are twined, ring once, but if not, ring twice.’ The two rings have been presented as choices, from which you would only choose one. This is not false, but it is not entirely true, either.”
“So we should ring it once and twice?” Alice asked.
“Does the Author not know?” asked the Bellkeeper across from Delilah, turning her multi-colored gaze to Emmeryn.
“I was never able to find the full explanation,” Emmeryn said, bowing her head, something like shame flickering in her eyes. “Before we were able to gain it, Gio enacted the Tragedy, and… so much was lost.”
“Then the truth has never reached a Keybearer’s ears,” said the Bellkeeper across from Delilah. She remained the only one who spoke, and where her eyes went, there the other two Bellkeepers’ eyes went also. “But also, the Lost Bell has changed. Before, there would have been less need to use both rings against the Darkness you now face. But as the Bell is now, and as swift as the Night now spreads, you will need both rings. First, once, to break the seals on the Keys. Second, twice, for hearts across the world to hear the lightbaring peal and know the time is nigh.”
“Know that what time is nigh?” Alice asked. “It said it that same way in the Book, but that doesn’t mean we know what it means.”
“Daybreak,” the Bellkeeper said, her voice lending that one word a gravity that immediately struck Delilah with both a seriousness as to the importance of her quest…
And hope. A smile touched her lips, a lightness touched her heart even in this place so heavy with aching sorrow.
Daybreak.
“The world needs to know,” Delilah said, and the Bellkeepers nodded. “And we need to break the seals so we can turn the Key, three in one. Then I guess…” she gazed up at the Bell, “…I’m ready.”
“Then let us begin,” the Bellkeeper said. All three Bellkeepers advanced onto the stage, standing beneath the Bell. There was no rope to pull, and Delilah saw that within the Bell itself, there was no device for striking the Bell. How would they ring it?
And then each of the Bellkeepers produced a small silver hammer, no bigger than a toothbrush. They turned their backs to each other, facing the interior edge of the Bell, and each raised their tiny hammers and struck once, in unison.
Small hammers wielded by small arms, but the Bell rang out with a startling volume and clarity. Its crystalline peal rang out, and Delilah could feel a shift in the air.
Something had changed. Far away, but also close to heart.
She pulled out the Key on its chain and gazed at it. It was glowing, pure white, and within its gleam were three small glimmers of silver.
“The seals begin to break,” said the Bellkeeper, as the Bell’s peal continued to ring out, fading from this place to reach across the stars to the Locations that needed to hear it most. “They are unlocked, but to open them will require a final step from those who seek to turn the Keys. Now, for the second ring.”
But as the Bellkeepers prepared to strike, Alice leapt out, crying a warning. Delilah turned, to see a flicker of darkness streaking through the air, straight towards the Bell itself.
Alice caught it full in the chest, and landed, reeling slightly.
It was an arrow. A very familiar arrow.
“Valgwyn!” Delilah said, turning and Summoning all four of her Felines. There she saw, on a rooftop not too far away, the Son of Night who had been her foe in the Library of Solitude, and again alongside his brothers in the battle for Revue Palace. He still bore the scars from Chelsea’s attack, half his face horribly disfigured. Yet he still carried the same air of boredom, of tiredness, as if any effort was too troublesome.
Alice took a step back, eyes black, grimacing, and then the arrow in her chest turned to liquid, absorbed into her, and vanished. She turned her head and spat, a tiny glob of Darkness that dissolved into nothingness before it could touch the ground. Turning her attention to Valgwyn, her eyes turned to pure white, and she held out her hand. “Rabanastre!” she called, and her hulking, anthropomorphic rabbit Summon appeared, glowering at the rooftop on which Valgwyn stood.
“Faster than I’d hoped,” Valgwyn said, his not-disfigured eye twitching with annoyance. He reached up to his quiver, drawing a second arrow with a smooth, languid motion.
“How did you find us here?” Maribelle asked, she and Marcus stepping out and in front of Terevalde and Emmeryn. “How can you even know of this place?”
A new voice spoke, a whisper of darkness that sent a shiver down Delilah’s spine: “Our Father sees more than you know. And he has planned all that is coming to pass.”
Maribelle turned, her hand stretching out, reality itself opening in a glittering tear from which she pulled Takina, her brilliant golden katana. She leapt in a high, balletic flip to the other side of the Bell, standing between it…
And Dullan.
Cloaked in shadow, twice as tall as Maribelle and broad as the darkest night, he held in his hand his tall, wicked scythe.
“Surely you know you cannot defeat us,” Marcus said, tapping his staff on the ground. Three of the ring-shaped bells atop it rang out with beautiful harmony. A sparkling twinkle of white light blossomed in front of Valgwyn, and he fell back with a grimace.
That was when Alice pounced, and Rabanastre with her. She held out her hand, brandishing the silver rapier pin that Addie had made for her, and it shimmered, transforming into an actual silver sword. Alice landed on the rooftop in a crouch and lunged forward, her silver sword piercing Valgwyn’s shoulder. Rabanastre followed up with a powerful spinning kick, sending Valgwyn flying.
“Victory comes in many forms,” Dullan said. Maribelle brandished Takina, and he shrank back, always frightened of the golden sword. When Maribelle followed up that warning flourish with an actual attack, Dullan blocked it with the long, broad blade of his scythe. An explosion of light and sound erupted, golden brightness blasting back pitch-darkness, and Dullan tumbled down the hill, vanishing from sight.
“Does it come in getting your butts kicked?” Alice asked, returning to the hill, twirling her rapier. She raised her free right hand, bumping knuckles with Rabanastre.
“It comes in misdirection,” Valgwyn said. He rose from where he’d landed several blocks away, and fired three arrows from the rooftop. Felix leapt up, his twin swords flashing, parrying all three arrows with deft precision. They flew far from anyone they could harm, striking the ground at the edges of the plateau, a distant triangle around the Bell.
“Oh, let’s just kill this guy,” Alice said. She grinned at Delilah. “You’ve got the defense covered, right? I’m really more of an offense kind of girl.”
“We’re on it,” Delilah said with a nod. Alice leapt from the hill, Rabanastre right beside her, and they bounded across rooftops to Valgwyn. Silver sword and furry white fists and feet went to work, and Valgwyn was forced back.
Dullan rose up, keeping his distance from Maribelle, who didn’t venture too far beyond the Bell, staying close to defend it. Delilah turned to the Bellkeepers, who stood watching the proceedings, expressionless. “Is it safe to do the second ring?” she asked.
“It is,” the Bellkeeper said. “But you must defend us. If Darkness were to touch the Bell, it would spell disaster.”
“It would,” Emmeryn said with a shudder. “And I apologize, but Terevalde and I… we cannot fight. If we must, we may be able to muster some meager, desperate defense, but…”
“You can count on us,” Delilah said. She sent Felix out to support Alice and Rabanastre, while Nekoma and Redmond spaced out along the plateau, watchful and ready. Reginald remained at Delilah’s side, her small, stalwart companion.
“Something feels wrong,” Isabelle said, standing beside Delilah. Teddy’s head poked up out of her backpack, but she didn’t call on him, instead holding her flute. “They have something planned.”
“Yes,” Marcus said, his usually calm eyes suspicious and alert. “But what? ‘Victory comes in many forms’… what are they planning?”
“Their Father… the Lord of Night?” Terevalde asked. “He should never know of this place. How could he have planned for any of this?”
“It is time for the next phase to begin,” Dullan said in his cold, whispering voice. “Maribelle. Isabelle. Would you care to see what has become of your lost sisters?”
Maribelle’s eyes went wide with fear and rage. She lunged at Dullan. Between her and Dullan, planted in the ground, was one of the three arrows that Valgwyn had fired and Felix had deflected.
That arrow suddenly erupted in a geyser of Darkness, a wild spiraling explosion that flung Maribelle back. She was sent sprawling, tumbling over and over before rolling up to a crouch right up against the stage beneath the Bell. The knuckles of her sword hand were bleeding, as was a long cut across her cheek.
“Alice! Come back!” Delilah called, looking around for the other two arrows that Felix had deflected. She spied the second one just as it, too, erupted in a vortex of Darkness. And then the third, near to Marcus, erupted as well, and Marcus skidded back, keeping his feet, planting his staff for support.
Alice was back in a flash, positioning herself protectively with Isabelle between her and Delilah. “Rabanastre can handle Valgwyn,” she said, twirling her sword. “So. What’s going on here?”
“Our… sisters?” Isabelle asked, staring in shocked dismay. “Does he mean…”
Delilah’s eyes went wide. She remembered what Sarabelle had told them, what Dullan had showed her on the Westward Plains.
Once, there had been seven Princesses of Solitude. Three had vanished, stolen away. Sarabelle and Annabelle, too, had vanished, but they had both been captives of the Radiant King, and had since been returned to their family and their home.
But the three Princesses who first disappeared had been stolen away by Darkness. By Dullan, before he had been Dullan, before the Lord of Night and his Sons. And Dullan had inflicted something terrible upon all three of them, transforming them, infusing their very hearts with the deepest Darkness.
When Dullan spoke, Delilah’s blood ran cold.
“Come forth, my Furies.”
The erupting vortexes of Darkness suddenly went still, Darkness flooding inward to three solid points, points in the form of young women.
These three young women, formerly Princesses of Solitude, were now frightening Princesses of Darkness. Skin and clothes black as night, their heads adorned with circlets of glittering darkness. Three pairs of eyes smoldered with dark, vicious fury, pure hate and rage that made Delilah instinctually shrink back a step. And then she turned, her eyes pleading with the Bellkeepers as she said in a taut, strained voice, “Ring the Bell.”
Three tiny hammers struck, bringing out a completely different sound than the first peal — it sounded more like a peal of warning, and was followed up by a second strike, a second peal. The second harmonized with the first, hope on top of the warning, letting the world know that danger was near, but that hope was, too. Night was falling, but Daybreak would not be far behind.
The three Furies reacted instantly to the double-peal, eyes widening in pain and rage, mouths opening in shrill, alien cries of hateful anger. They each took a step forward. Isabelle shrank back, huddling close to Delilah, trembling. Maribelle pointed Takina at the nearest Fury, her expression twisted in agonized heartbreak. “Stay back from the Bell!” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Marcus tapped his staff on the ground. Two of the ring-shaped bells rang out, but their tone was deadened, and swiftly vanished. His eyes flickered in surprise and confusion. With the ceasing of the ring of his bells came a sudden quiet.
The peals of the Lost Bell had also been silenced.
“What have they done?” asked the Bellkeeper.
“They were made for precisely this,” Dullan said. “Their power is unmatched by all save our Father.”
“We’ll see about that,” Alice said. “Rabanastre!” At her call, the white rabbit came soaring in, landing with such force that the rock of the plateau cracked beneath his feet. He darted for the nearest Fury, spinning in a mighty kick. The Fury let out a piercing, alien scream…
And Rabanastre froze in place. His foot hovered just inches from the Fury’s face, trembling in effort against an invisible force.
A moment later, his face twisted in pain, and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
“Rabanastre!” Alice cried, racing to her Summon’s side. She didn’t kneel to look after him, but instead planted herself between him and the Fury, brandishing her silver blade. And then, a moment later, she shrank it back into its pin form and pinned it to her belt. “You messed with the wrong Summoner.” She lunged for the Fury, hands outstretched, and the Fury reached back at her, grabbing her hands with her own. Their fingers intertwined, and a brief, silent struggle ensued.
Alice’s eyes flicked from white, to black, to white, then back to black. She shuddered, and her eyes narrowed in confusion, and then…
She dropped. Unconscious, she collapsed to the ground. Rabanastre vanished.
“Alice!” Delilah cried, racing to her side, leaving Reginald to watch over Isabelle while Felix joined her. The Fury lunged, but Felix was just the slightest bit faster, scooping up Alice and leaping back, laying her at Delilah’s feet and drawing his swords.
“Sisters, stop!” Maribelle said. When the Fury between her and Dullan suddenly darted for the Bell, she slashed forward with Takina. Her golden blade flashed — and then stopped, just short of the Fury’s neck.
Delilah had seen that before. Takina was infused with Covenant Magic, and had to follow specific rules of Maribelle’s choosing. One of those being that Takina could not harm someone who was not an enemy.
Like with Sarabelle when she’d been the Gold Knight, Takina still recognized the Fury as a Princess of Solitude.
Maribelle pivoted, aiming her free hand palm-first at the Fury. Her hand blazed with white light, but the brilliance Delilah was used to was somewhat diminished, dimmed and dulled from how it should be. The Fury held out her own hand, reached for the light…
And snuffed it out.
Maribelle gasped. Staggering back, she dropped to one knee. Takina vanished from her hand, winking away in a twinkle of golden light.
“Mari!” Isabelle called, racing to her sister. Reginald ran with her, and Nekoma followed, protecting the little Princess.
Or, at least, they would try to. But what could they do? Alice lay unconscious, Maribelle defeated, and the Furies were untouched. More than that, they seemed emboldened by their victories, and came closer to the Bell, rage and hate smoldering in their eyes.
Delilah lifted Alice in her arms, carrying her as she backed away towards the Bell, Felix and Redmond following her. Marcus stood on the other side, guarding that approach, but the Furies took one step after another, slowly and steadily approaching the Bell.
Emmeryn and Terevalde shrank back, close to one another, watching the proceedings in cautious, subdued fear. Both of them seemed to be thinking, trying to work out a solution, even as hope was crumbling around them.
“You must stop them,” said the Bellkeeper.
“But how?” Delilah asked.
“Quell their fury,” the Bellkeeper said. She and her two counterparts raised their tiny hammers and struck the Bell again, twice, the rings of warning and hope. But the harmonizing tones came out deadened, dulled, and swiftly vanished into silence. “Unless they are stopped, the warning cannot go out. The Key will not be fully prepared.”
“The Key?” Delilah asked. “But I thought you already unlocked the seals.”
“Unlocked, yes,” said the Bellkeeper. “But they are more protected than before the Tragedy. Without the warning, the Key will not be as receptive.”
Delilah wanted to ask more, but the Furies were stalking nearer. They needed a solution, and soon! When they reached the Bell… if Darkness touched it…
“Disaster.” I can’t let that happen!
Delilah held out her left hand towards Alice’s right, so that their wrists touched. Her wrist with her Paladin bracelet, and Alice’s with hers. They had called forth a strange power when they’d fought for Revue Palace. Could they bring back that white fire once again?
But nothing happened. Maybe because Alice was unconscious. Maybe because Delilah was too frightened, too panicked.
The Furies stalked nearer. Their steps were quicker, now. It would be only moments, and then her Felines would have to try and fight. She feared what would happen to them after seeing how easily Rabanastre, Alice, and Maribelle were defeated. But she would not surrender the Bell without a fight.
And then…
Music.
A somewhat haunting, somewhat hopeful tone, small at first but growing swiftly.
Isabelle was playing her flute.
She stood now upon the stage, in the center of the three Bellkeepers, directly beneath the center of the Lost Bell. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but her eyes conveyed a hope, a healing heart that was determined to still the rage of her sisters.
Light blossomed from her hands as she played, small, pure white stars shining against the oncoming darkness.
And the Furies came to a halt.
As one, the three let loose agonizing screams of pain. Their hands went to their heads, and then dropped to their knees, convulsing in anguish.
Isabelle stopped playing, looking up in horror. “No!” she cried. “I didn’t want to hurt them!”
“Belle-Belle, don’t stop!” Maribelle called, racing to her side. “It was working!”
“Working?” Isabelle asked.
“Finish what we came for,” Dullan said, a hard edge to his voice. “So we can salvage the Furies.They are not yet complete.”
Two Furies continued to wail in agony — two Furies whom Delilah was focusing her attention on.
Which meant she missed the Fury behind her, the one who recovered just enough from her pain to stand and lunge forward.
Reginald saw her first and leapt to stop her, but he was too slow.
They were all too slow.
The Fury struck out, grasping with her long, taloned fingers. Her leap brought her only just close enough to barely scratch the surface of the Bell.
But a faint scratch was enough.
The three Bellkeepers suddenly dropped to their knees, bowing their heads, eyes closed and mouths open in silent screams of pain and grief. All other sound was drowned out by a sudden shrill, piercing tone that made Delilah kneel, holding Alice tight and refusing to let her go no matter how badly she wanted to cover her ears.
Marcus alone managed to keep his composure, but even as he slammed his staff against the ground, no sound came out. He couldn’t fight back against this shrill tone, and a moment later… all went completely silent, punctuated by a single, heartbreaking crack.
Delilah reeled, her ears ringing, something wet trickling down the sides of her neck. The Furies were gone, Dullan was gone. Valgwyn, no doubt, was gone, too.
Something crunched underfoot when Delilah moved to stand. She looked down, and stared. Tiny silver shards, littering the ground around the stage. And when she looked up, she saw…
The Bell. It wasn’t merely cracked, not anymore.
It was split in two.