Femira frowned, her mind whirling. “You believe there’s a new Sorcerer King creating the draega?”


    “I know there is. But that’s not what I’m looking to confirm.”


    The calm certainty in his voice sent a chill through her. “Then what are you looking for?”


    “The draega you’ve faced—the ones that come from the north—they’re dangerous, yes, but they are not the true threat. The Khandamos that has created them… this Sorcerer King... are smaller, weaker. His abominations are pale imitations of the horrors wrought by the original Sorcerer Kings. What concerns me,” Mahel paused, letting his words hang in the air, “are the alphas. The Khandamos is not creating them. And this is what truly frightens me.”


    “The alphas,“ Femira breathed. She’d faced one herself. Had lost two of her comrades fighting it. She and Landryn both had nearly perished in the battle. They knew there would be more, but the thought that there was a force—a person—out there creating them sickened her.


    Infuriated her.


    How dare they? How could they willingly inflict such horror on the world? Not even Garld wasn’t that bad… she hoped.


    “Someone, or something, is creating them,” Mahel continued, his voice low despite there being nobody around to overhear. “The alphas are no accident. They are being shaped, bred for a purpose. But I do not yet know why… and that is what I seek to learn.”


    Landryn had always known the true scale of the draega threat. It was why he worked with Garld to train the bloodshedders, forging an elite force capable of standing against the beasts. Femira had committed herself to his cause, heart and soul. Even now, her mission to rescue Daegan—done without Landryn’s knowledge—was still in service of that greater purpose. Garld’s treachery had to be exposed. He was a poison in Landryn’s veins, rotting everything that Landryn sought to build from within. She had no doubt that Garld would destroy all Landryn had worked for if left unchecked.


    “What do you gain in telling me all of this?” Femira asked, suspicion hardening her tone. She’d been fooled by Garld’s lies, and was cautious of being taken in by someone who claimed to have all the answers again.


    “I gain nothing,” he replied smoothly, his voice still low and measured. “My kind are not… well liked amongst humans. If you meet any of my kin, they may… shape your opinions. But if I’m right—and I often am—our paths will cross again. I would far prefer your hand in alliance, not in opposition. Whatever force gives life to these alphas, I do not foresee it bringing fortune to either of our peoples. Let this conversation, then, be... an investment in what is to come to pass.”


    Femira narrowed her eyes. “You’re putting a lot of trust in someone you’ve just met.”


    “Trust?” Mahel chuckled, the sound like distant thunder. “No, not trust. You’re not like the rest. I’ve seen enough to know you’re a determined fighter… and that you’ll seek the truth, even if it leads you down dangerous paths. And when that time comes, you’ll remember our talk.”


    “I don’t like being a pawn,” she didn’t say it angrily as such, but she let her distaste known.


    “We’re all pawns, Femira. The difference is, some of us know it.”


    As Femira prepared to respond, a familiar sound cut through the air—the tolling of a bell from Connie’s ship. Her time was up. Cowbell was making his way back along the rocky shore, the rhythmic jingle of his bell marking his approach.


    She stood, giving Mahel a nod. “Thank you for the answers,” she said, turning to leave. But before she could take a step, Mahel’s voice stopped her in her tracks.


    “Be wary of your heart.”


    “What?” She turned back to face him.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    “You carry a piece of the Fury of the Earth within you,” Mahel stated, not a question. “Do not deny it. I’ve seen you fight. You are soulforged.”


    Femira’s pulse quickened, her mind racing. Soulforging wasn’t something discussed openly. “That’s not something people know about,” she replied sharply.


    Mahel tilted his head slightly. “Many years ago, it was no great secret. But there are reasons why Elyina and her people fought so proudly against the Sorcerer Kings and their soulforged. It is not simply because those with power seek to use it. It is because they can become consumed by it. ”


    “Consumed?” Femira felt her stomach tighten. “What do you mean?”


    “The Elemental Furies of our world are caged. I do not think there is any force that could break that, but you have a let a piece of one into your soul. It has a link to you. Your being. You know of the umbra?”


    “The part of the soul that gives power to the edir.” She remembered Vestyr explaining the concept to her back in the Pillar of Reldon. He’d explained that the umbra was the Life Essence of a person.


    “An accurate—if modest—estimate. You have merged a piece of a Fury into your soul.” Technically Femira had not done this herself, not exactly. Garld had. Although Femira had all but begged him to, without truly knowing what she was asking for.


    “You’re saying this Fury will attempt to do… what? Control me?”


    “It does not have will. It does not have any grand designs, but it does have instinct, and its instinct will be to consume you. When you runewield, have you ever felt so powerful that you didn’t consider yourself human anymore? That you thought of yourself as... a god?”


    Femira blinked, caught off guard by the question. She frowned. “I’ve never felt like that.”


    Mahel nodded slowly, his eyes sharp as they studied her. “Then perhaps you’ve found balance… or perhaps it is waiting for your strength to grow further.”


    The instability. The memory of reading over Garld’s research notes. When he’d been doing his experiments on us. The thought still left her feeling sickened. The notes had described the way some of the bloodshedders had lost themselves, consumed by their own power. It was something Garld had been working to fix—to save those who were dying because of it. Although Femira had never seen it happen herself.


    But she couldn’t think about any of that now. She had her mission. She had to find Daegan Tredain. And yet she couldn’t resist.


    “Do you know how to stop it?” she asked, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.


    Mahel’s gaze softened, his alien eyes full of something like regret. “I do not,” he said quietly. “And I am sorry for that. All I can tell you is to not give in to it. Do not allow the Fury to take you.”


    Femira could hear Connie’s voice carrying across the water, sharp and insistent. “Get your draega-slaying ass in the rowboat!”


    She turned back to Mahel, a lingering question still on her lips. “What will you do?”


    “I will continue to search,” he said calmly.


    “You’re certain the Tower here?” Femira pressed.


    “I am.”


    “How?”


    Mahel hesitated for a moment before answering, “I possess a... connection to it. I can sense its presence, lingering just beyond my reach. It slips through my grasp, for now, but I will find it. Perhaps, I am in the right place but not yet the right time. That is all I will discuss on the matter.”


    Femira studied him for a second longer, then gave a nod. “Until next time then,” she said with clear condescension.


    “I believe we will meet again,” Mahel replied, his tone as smooth as ever.


    “You’re weird,” she said, half-smirking.


    “You offer this as praise.”


    “I do.”


    ***


    “Get what you needed?” Lydia asked Femira on the deck of the ship, the misty silhouettes of Wailing Rocks fading behind them as the ship sailed.


    Femira blew out a breath, crossing her arms. “I... got information, and that’s something. Whether I needed it? I’m not sure.”


    Lydia gave her a sidelong glance. “I know you don’t care about what’s happening in Port Novic.”


    “I never said I don’t care,” Femira cut in, sharper than intended. “I said I can’t help.”


    “Right, right,” Lydia pressed on, clearly not deterred. “You’ve got this whole draega fight going on, I get it. But do you think a unified front in Athlin—”


    “I’m not getting involved in your city’s revolution,” Femira snapped. “Told you that already.”


    Lydia raised her hands, mock surrender, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Alright, alright. No revolution talk. But if you ever change your mind—”


    “—Don’t hold your breath,” Femira cut in with a grin of her own, shaking her head. “Got enough monsters on my plate, thanks.”


    Lydia leaned back, still watching her, a little more serious now. “Still. You’re good at what you do, Femira. Just know there’s more out there than draega. There’s wars going on and men can sometimes be just as vile as those monsters you fight—worse even.”