Super unedited.

Just a heads up, the formatting is kinda weird in this chapter. IDK why. Wattpad hates me.

~

Wylie was frozen in place as Sophie slowly approached, her hands up in peace.

"What are you doing here S-" Sophie slapped her hand over his mouth, her eyes wide. She shook her head, a finger over her lips as she pulled his cloak from his shoulders. Wylie nearly threw himself in anger when she pulled his family pin off the cloak, pulling off the back.

Sophie noticed his apprehension, shuffling around in the empty shell of his now ruined family pin. His mother gave him that pin! He already helped the Assassins get Maria and Fitz back. What could she possibly want now?!

"You need to leave-" Wylie fell silent as Sophie pulled out a blinking red device from inside his pin, holding it out for him.

Wylie stared at the blinking device in his palm, his mouth dropping. What on earth could this be?

Sophie grabbed the notepad, scribbling on it and holding it out for him.

"Listening and tracking device. Neverseen make. Were you wearing your cloak when you came to the mission at Havenfield?"

Wylie read it over twice, trying to think if he wore his family pin at all. But he shook his head, the Mentore slumping in relief. She took back the pad, scribbling on it once more.

"What about anything else? Any trinkets your mother or father could have given you that could've been bugged?"

Wylie shook his head, Sophie letting out one final breath before dropping the pad back onto the table.

"Okay, I don't know if your apartment is bugged, but I doubt it. We can talk, but keep your voice down." Sophie started, searching his cabinets and lights for any other devices. Wylie grabbed her forearm, yanking her closer.

"What are you doing here?!" He hissed. Sophie yanked her arm back, reaching into her assassin robes and pulling out a small leather-bound journal.

She looked so nervous when she met his eyes, "What do you remember of your mother?"

Wylie cocked an eyebrow, "She made jewelry, she loved my dad and I, uh... she had red hair-"

"I mean did she tell you anything of her past, Wylie?" Sophie bit out.

Wylie laughed, crossing his arms, "She mentioned that she was a bit of a prankster when's he attended Foxfire, she used to skip school to go shopping, and that she met my dad super young. But besides that, not much." Sophie shook her head, leading Wylie to the couch.

"Wylie, your mom never went to Foxfire. She never went to Atlantis to go shopping with her friends." Sophie started.

Wylie scoffed, stepping back from the intruder, "And how do you know more about my mother than I do? She did normal things that all elven kids do."

She handed Wylie the journal, the elf staring at the assassin sigil on top. Sophie carefully led his hands to turn to the book to the back, pointing to the C.E etched in the back.

"Cyrah Endal wasn't an elf, Wylie. She was a Inalian born noblewoman and Cyevan spy."

He didn't know how to describe it. It was more than his heart dropping. It was his world being shredded apart. His childhood was a lie. His mother held this from him? She fed him lies while she sold secrets and lies?

"She was a childhood friend of my father's. This is her journal." Sophie took a deep breath, gesturing for Wylie to finally sit on the couch. He didn't fight her, dropping to the couch as he flipped open the cover.

"You have Inalian family. Cyrah, she was from a very famous Inalian noble family. The family of the Pythia." Sophie's voice caught on the last word as if saying it made her recoil, but she continued, "You are half Vatarian."

It was written in what he figured was the Inalian language, which made him doubt. Sophie placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, pointing to the page, "Just give it a second. Your brain will figure it out for you."

Wylie focused on the runes, his shocked brain straining against them. But then the words clicked for him as if he were a polyglot for all his life.

And there it was, his mother's name written in the top of the corner.

So Sophie held his shoulder for support as Wylie read his mother's darkest secrets.

Cyrah absolutely hated prayer. Hated it with a capital H. Her older sister was always amazing at it, knowing exactly when to pour the libations onto the altar and remembering all of the various gods' different epithets.

Her brother Nikolaus wasn't very good at it either, though.

"Cyrah!" The girl jumped when her mother hissed her name. Cyrah slowly met her mother's piercing eyes.

"Yes, mater?"

Her mother gestured to Lucrezia, who sat on her knees with a straight back and clasped hands.

"Lucrezia is able to repeat Kynareth and Sai's hymns with perfect dictation and memorization. Meanwhile, you look like you are about to fall asleep! How could you possibly compete with your sister to become the next Pythia if you can't even pay attention?!"

Cyrah swallowed, mimicking her sister's posture too little too late, "I'm sorry mater."

She just shook her head, waving away her three children, "Get out of my sight."

The three of them quickly darted out of the room, leaving her mother to stew.

"Come on Cyrah, I went over the hymns with you last night. We spent three hours on them!" Lucrezia sighed. Cyrah stopped with a shrug, spinning to look at her siblings. Nikolaus noticed her thick silver jewelry was askew on her arms and helped her adjust it before linking his arm around hers.

"I just can't focus. We both know that you are going to be the next Pythia, so why do Nik and I have to do this?" Cyrah complained.

"So you two can become a priest and priestess! What else could you possibly want to be?!" Lucrezia argued. Cyrah's eyes caught on her self-portrait hanging in the study overlooking the courtyard. She wore her prettiest purple and gold dress, holding her favorite black and terra cotta vase in the Pythia family collection. She wore one of her only veils that didn't cover her face.

(Sibylline original work. Please don't use without credit)

Her eyes dropped from her portrait to the sundial in the middle of the courtyard.

"I'm late!" Cyrah picked up her skirts, her pressed curls bouncing as she darted towards the boy napping in the apple groves beneath the temple. Lucrezia called after her, "Stop hanging out with that Morretti boy! He is nothing but bad news!"

Cyrah ignored her siblings, sliding off her sandals to enjoy the grass. Her siblings were the only ones who knew about her friendship with Allesandro Morretti, the two of them entering a rowdy kinship the minute he accidentally spilled his libations on her dress when he visited the temple with his family during the winter equinox. The boy didn't even notice her approach, her footsteps quiet and carefully laid.

"Guess who?!" She smiled.

Allesandro laughed, straightening from his spot on the tree, "Is it my friend who never answers my minyama calls?"

Cyrah grumbled, pulling back her hands, "You know my mother would have a heart attack if she knew I had a minyama."

Allesandro shrugged, draping his arm over Cyrah's shoulder as they began to walk through the groves. Nik teased Cyrah about Allesandro, singing that they would go and kiss in the apple groves. But Cyrah and Allesandro had no romantic feelings for one another. It was a friendship and nothing more.

"Is your mother still making you chant those prayers?" Allesandro asked, taking a bite of his apple.

Cyrah plucked an apple off a passing tree, "Today we focused on hymns. I got scolded out of the room."

Allesandro laughed, "Well, in my opinion it still beats shoveling out horse dung."

Cyrah's nose scrunched, "Horse dung? Why on earth-"

Allesandro coughed, "I, uh, kinda bombed my essay on the Old Republic at got chewed out at the school house yesterday. It was my punishment." Allesandro groaned, rubbing his face, "My mother is a tyrant, I swear! And Maria laughed the whole time I did it!"

They both froze at the stomping of Esposita guards, ducking behind the stone wall.

"That's double the normal patrol. What are they looking for?" Allesandro began to stand, his footsteps quiet, but Cyrah yanked him back down.

"Are you mad?! That is the Esposita! We shouldn't mess with them." Cyrah snatched her veil, realizing she shouldn't be outside of Adonis's Isle without it. Draping it over her red hair, she pointed in the opposite direction of the patrol.

"I'm going to head through the grove. Gods above, I shouldn't have risked going out!" Cyrah ruffled up Allesandro's hair, "Stay safe."

She casually strolled back into Adonis's Isle, removing her veil and slumping into bed. She glanced at the Elven history book she had stolen from her mother. Her mom was the Pythia currently, and all the people who come for her guidance give her gifts in return. Her mother loved gifts. When Cyrah was little, she learned how to make jewelry. At first, it was silly little beads and string, but it soon formed into complex metalwork and inlaid gems. She gave them to her mother again and again. It seemed like the only way to keep her satisfied. One of the offerings made to her mother was the elven history book. But since her mom refused to learn how to read, Cyrah plucked it off of her.

She had been fascinated with the elves ever since.

Cyrah had never run so fast in her life. She kept her veil over her face, sprinting from her screaming siblings. This can't be true! They wouldn't do this to the Morrettis; they wouldn't! The rumors were wrong. She heard the Morretti family was to be hung, and she sprinted from Lucrezia's arms, her sister saying that Allesandro would be fine. This had to be a cruel prank-

Cyrah skidded into the main town center, stuttering gaps turning into sobs as she saw the Morretti family hanging with Allesandro sobbing before them.

Guards slowly approached Allesandro, the sobbing teenager not even noticing. No, no Cyrah can't lose him.

Cyrah pushed aside the gathered crowd, shoving and reaching for her friend.

"Run!" She cried, grabbing his hand. Allesandro was limp, forcing Cyrah to force her friend to his feet.

"Where is Leto's house?!" She cried to him as she dragged the boy from his dead family. Allesandro mumbled, hiccuping slightly. Cyrah cursed, tucking the both of them into one of the herb gardens of a noble family. Cyrah forced Allesandro to look at her. His brown eyes were no longer bright and fun but shaken and dark.

"I need to get you somewhere safe. You said this Leto person was your friend, right? Where does he live?" Cyrah insisted. Allesandro hung his head against her shoulder, forcing himself to get a grip, "He lives on the south east side of the canal, right next to the Golden Goat bathhouses."

Cyrah nodded, carefully holding his hand as she led her friend closer and closer. Her veil his her panicked eyes as she scanned the roads. The general populace isn't allowed to gaze upon her face unless she is pronounced the next Pythia.

Cyrah banged on the door, Allesandro a husk beside her.

"Come on, come on- open the damn door!" Cyrah pleaded, slamming her fist into the wooden door. The sound of guards behind her made her blood go cold, beginning to drag Allesandro down the stairs to find a hiding place.

"Hello?" A stern woman opened the door, staring at the elegantly dressed noble girl with a bastard boy hoisted next to her. The woman's eyes widened when she recognized the boy draped next to her.

"Leto! He is alive!" The woman took Allesandro from Cyrah, pressing a hand to his forehead. A boy was straggly long hair, and sharp blue eyes sprinted out behind his mother, yelling for his sister to get a spare bed ready. Leto, Cyrah assumed.

"I-I think he is in shock, please take care of him." Cyrah spun as guards began to approach the home, "I'll shake them off your trail. Don't tell anyone you saw me, okay?"

She had snuck out of her home to make sure her friend was alive. Her mother was going to kill her!

Nikolaos said he would cover for her, but he was just a kid. He wouldn't know how to cover for her.

But Cyrah ran back into Adonis's Isle, kneeling beside her furious sister two seconds before her mother opened the door for their practice. When she cut through the forest, the guards lost her trail, weaving in and out of the trees. She was lucky enough to be back before her mother even noticed she was gone. But she was going to hear rumors of the veiled noble woman saving a bastard teenager from execution.

"Alright, today is a day for Sai, and I believe you all know the start of the poem we should recite." And Cyrah actually did pray as hard as she could this time. She prayed for her only friend to keep the breath in his lungs.

Cyrah watched as the crowds cheered for Lucrezia, offering bounties of food and gold to their new Pythia. Cyrah will never forget the shock when her mother announced that she had lost her divine sight. It had been years since Cyrah had last seen Allesandro, and she had thrown herself into her studies, so it shook her whole world that her mother retired. Her mother muttered it over dinner after Lucrezia approached her about not giving people readings. It was shortly afterward that Lucrezia began to have her own visions.

Everyone in the Oracle family had some form of scrying. However, the Pythia was one woman picked out of each generation, a woman unlike all the rest. Complete control over her monstrous power. No one really knows where the ability came from. It is no surprise that the next Pythia was Lucrezia, the perfect little daughter.

Nikolaos looked towards the distance, his veil masking his solemn expression. He was always quiet, Nik, only really talked with the stray mutt he found wandering around the Isle. But Cyrah knew he wanted out just as much as she.

Cyrah looked over the crowd, swallowing at all the unfamiliar faces that pretended like they were royalty. Part of her hoped that she would see a pair of brown eyes and messy brown hair in the crowd, giving her a lopsided grin.

But from a hooded figure at the very back, she swore he did have those bright brown eyes and messy curls.

"Allesandro?" Cyrah muttered to herself, her hand on her sister's golden chair loosening.

The hooded figure's brown eyes flashed for only a moment before he turned away from the celebration and towards Renisanca.

Did she imagine it?