The halfling hunched over her crossed legs and gritted her teeth to keep from shivering. Maleshi let out a slow breath, staring intently at the beetle-thing carapace. Her breath puffed out of her like smoke, and the thin crackle of quickly formed ice rose from the bowl of water beside the Oracle as it froze over.
Gúrdu’s eyelids fluttered, and when he opened his eyes again, they gave off the same eerie green light despite being entirely white. His voice echoed through the room when he spoke, not his voice alone, but in at least half a dozen different others from monstrously low to almost a shriek. “The rot in the center of the heart spreads. There is nothing left within, so it searches now for new flesh to consume. What starts within will end without, and the cycle will turn back before its doom.”
The flames roared even higher in the lanterns before falling to a still-abnormal height. When the Oracle drew a long, wheezing breath, Maleshi swayed a little on the cushion beside Cheyenne.
“The one who sees valor in disgrace will fall. The one brought forth in darkness will wield the blade. Cut out the heart, cut out the rot. The shackles of the old laws rise. For the last scion, it is destiny or chains.”
Maleshi lurched forward where she sat. Cheyenne turned toward her and saw the Nightstalker’s eyes glazed with the vicious green of the flames. Puffs of steam burst in quick succession between the ex-general’s parted lips.
If they don’t snap out of this in the next minute, I’ll climb up on that platform and stop it myself.
“Blood bonds with blood tied to chaos!” The last word barked out of the Oracle’s mouth in all those unnerving voices. The green flames in the lanterns roared before snuffing out all at once. Even with the lights on in the hall outside, the room was plunged into darkness. Something cracked and splintered by the platform, then the only sounds came from Maleshi and Gúrdu, both of them breathing slowly and steadily.
Cheyenne lifted a hand toward the Heart of Midnight pendant beneath her hoodie, holding her breath to listen. What the hell is this?
The lanterns burst to life again with regular-sized flame and yellow light. The intense cold disappeared, replaced by the apartment’s normal temperature, which now felt balmy in comparison. Even so, the halfling shivered and rubbed one arm through her hoodie sleeve.
Maleshi let out a little moan, but before Cheyenne could ask if she was okay, the Nightstalker sat up straight again. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she smacked her lips. “Cranberries. Still.”
Gúrdu cleared his throat several times and lifted his massive gray head. His eyes had returned to their normal orange glow too, narrowing as they flicked from one side of the room to the other. Then he glanced down at the shattered fragments of the beetle carapace littering the edge of the platform in front of him. “You failed to mention all the threads tied to this one, General.”
Maleshi’s nostrils flared as she flicked her tongue against her teeth in distaste. “If I knew of all the threads, Oracle, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“We shouldn’t have had it in the first place.” Gúrdu leaned sideways to snatch the bowl of water off the silver tray. He flicked the surface with a red claw, shattering the layer of ice, then guzzled the whole thing in under five seconds. Water and bits of twig streamed from the corners of his mouth and off his gray chin. The bowl clattered across the platform when he tossed it aside and wiped his lips with the back of a hand. “You’re in over your head.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Maleshi rolled her shoulders and grunted. “And I’m still in one piece. I’ll take it with a grain of salt if you don’t mind.”
“Salt in an open wound.” Gúrdu rocked backward as he let out a massive belch. A puff of shimmering green light burst from his mouth and disappeared.
Maleshi leaned toward Cheyenne again. “Did you get all that?”
“Yeah.” The halfling stared at her friend with wide eyes. “What happened to you?”
“I got my prophecy, kid. That was the easy part.”
“And the hard part is…”
“Figuring out what the hell it means.” The Nightstalker slapped her hands down on her knees, nodded, and pushed up off the cushions. “It’s been real, raug. Now we’re even.”
Gúrdu slid a clawed finger through the pile of shattered shell in front of him. “Hardly.”
“Yeah, well, next time I’ll bring payment. What’re you charging for your space-case drivel these days, anyway?”
“More than you can afford to give if you pursue this.”
“I’ve heard that one before too. Unless you prophesy something with my name in it and the words ‘you will die,’ I’ll take my chances. A hunch from you isn’t another prophecy, Gúrdu. We both know that.”
Cheyenne stood and eyed the raug. He knows something.
The Oracle looked up from the shattered pile and glanced at the halfling and the Nightstalker. Then his finger lifted and pointed at Cheyenne. “She should have been the one to offer and ask.”
“Well, she’s not the one calling in the favor, is she?” Maleshi dusted off her pants and stepped carefully between the pillows scattered around them. “And if I can’t afford another prophecy now, I sure as hell can’t pay for the kid.”
“You wouldn’t have to.” The raug lowered his hand again. “This one lies at the center of more than one thread.”
“You don’t say. Only a complete moron couldn’t figure that out. Come on, Cheyenne. I’m feeling creepy-crawly, and the smell in here’s gonna make me sick.”
As the Nightstalker made her way through the mess of cushions and ash and dust and whatever else was probably growing beneath all of it, Cheyenne found herself unable to move. “What does that mean?”
“Really? I’ve got a prophecy hangover, and I’m gonna hurl. How much
