She looks up at the image behind the shrine, depicted in jewels and black tiles.
The first queen of Fennbirn.
“Katharine. Come here.”
Katharine comes to her side, and they look upon her, their ancestor. The origin of the line. Above her head is a crown in gold and below her feet, three dark stars: the first triplet sisters.
“Do you see her?” Mirabella asks as Katharine takes her hand.
“I see her.”
The first queen of Fennbirn is shown with five arms. Upon each of her hands rests each of the gifts. Fire in a clenched fist. An apple in an open palm. A clutched dagger. An open eye, faced out. And a snake twisting through her fingers. The first queen was a Legion Queen.
Mirabella reaches out toward the image, the lightest of brushes against her ancient cheek. When her fingertips touch, the picture in her mind comes fast. Strong enough to rock her back on her heels, and to ripple into Katharine through their joined hands.
Jules Milone. She knows from the stricken expression on Katharine’s face that she saw her, too. It was unmistakable.
“What?” Luca asks. “What did you see?” The High Priestess edges closer.
Mirabella turns to her sister. She draws her nearer and rubs the tattoo of Katharine’s crown gently with her thumb.
“The beginning of the line,” Mirabella whispers. “And the end. The dead queens rise and the Goddess has chosen her champion.”