《The Aptly Named Book of Lost Wisdom Volume 2》 Chapter 1 - The Secret I can never hope to convey the pride I feel in being the familiar of Prince Eric and Prince Dahr. Nor can I describe the pain of being unable to come to their aid in their current predicament. I will not share with you the rage I feel toward the parties responsible for my separation, for that rage is theirs to experience. Such rage is a private matter to be shared only with those who have been unfortunate enough to earn it. When I find those parties, and I assure you I will, there will be a reckoning. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 Chapter 2 - Piecing It Together Chapter 2 ¨C Piecing it Together Life contains many mysteries. For example, I have no idea why people worship gods who have no real reason to help them. A god is a power beyond anything we can imagine. It would be like me helping a beetle. Why would a god be at all interested in what I want? The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 Please, my goddess, protect them. They¡¯re our sons. Guide them back to us. I will always bear whatever burdens you require, but I beg you, do not take my sons. I fear that would break me. You are stronger than you think, King Terrence of Twyl. And I will protect your sons if it is possible to do so. But there are other forces at work here, and as much as I would like to, I cannot guarantee their safe return. Other forces? Forces so great even you can¡¯t influence them? If you can¡¯t, then how can my sons? Because there are things that mortals can do that the gods cannot. Chapter 3 - The Getaway It seems more and more likely that Striker is responsible for the disappearance of Prince Eric and Prince Dahr from the palace at Rish. Most people are assuming she is the enemy we have been waiting for, but Maynor has often said that drawing conclusions in the absence of facts can be dangerous. Is it possible she is an ally? Every piece of information we get only raises new questions. It¡¯s like having to solve a maze that you can¡¯t find a way to enter. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 Chapter 4 - The Seeds of Distrust It is far easier to be suspicious of a person than it is to trust them. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 Chapter 5 - The Awakening There is not much I miss from my life before I appeared in this world, but if I had to pick one thing above all others, it would be dreaming. In dreams we can be or do anything. I no longer sleep, so I no longer dream. There is no time of day that I can shed my limitations and become something more. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 Veloran¡­ Captain Jericho is on his way here with instructions from the king to attend him at the palace. What they¡¯re about is dangerous business. It is not honorable. I wish you to do the right thing. That said, there are many reasons for you to be in the temple today. That you will be needed here is a certainty. No, but if I were you, I would carry the potion on your desk with you everywhere you go. Deftly done. No, Veloran. You really don¡¯t. Chapter 6 - Temple Shenanigans When standard strategies fail, extraordinary strategies must be employed. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 Veloran¡­ You might want to drink that potion I gave you. That would be ideal. What the hell is going on? I can be ridiculous if I want. Who¡¯s going to call me on it? Princess Chari, you are on a quest for me. Some would call it a holy quest. Which of the people who proudly display their weapons in my temple would object to those weapons being used on a holy quest for the goddess herself. You¡¯re spending too much time with Prince Eric. Would you have hesitated two weeks ago? What do you think? Chapter 7 - A Holy Quest Because of my situation, I am often on the outside looking in. My attachments and my duty are often one and the same. But every day I see people make questionable choices based on misinformation, fear or desperation. I do not believe I have the capacity for self-deception that others do, but then I wonder if that itself might not be a form of self-deception. If Dahr or Eric were here, it is a discussion I could have with them, but they are not. And so, every step of the way, I am forced to question my motivations to make certain I am driven by duty rather than fear. Kalutu, The Book of Lost Wisdom Seventeenth of Learning 1142 I did not. It was a pleasant coincidence. I do. That includes coincidences. We¡¯re waiting, my friend. Of course you may ask. That means I¡¯m not going to tell you. Dear Veloran. Everyone has it tough. Not everyone comes through it and retains some goodness. The girl is worth the investment. Whether it pays off or not, time will tell. Are you? Just this morning, you were talking about retirement. It¡¯s what you needed, Veloran. Not just the weight of responsibility, or the position of authority. You needed human contact again that was more than just peripheral. The girl will be good for you. It¡¯s time you remembered why you became a priest in the first place. We will come with you. Can you not feel the link between us, master? Or two masters. The rules do not seem to apply to you. You might want to get used to this. I don¡¯t think it will change any time soon. I think it might be all of us. I was in no danger. I would have phased before she could strike me. It¡¯s time to talk to King Terrence, Veloran. Chapter 8 - The Brighter Side of Undeath We know very little about the undead, and I know less than most. After all, I wasn¡¯t present with Prince Eric and Prince Dahr when they encountered them in the Other Realm, and they¡¯ve told me precious little about their experiences there. I wish I had pressed them for more detail when I had the chance. I¡¯ll eventually have to learn what I can from Princess Chari, for I feel in my heart that they are the enemy. If that isn¡¯t the case, why would the gods have trained the young royals to fight them? Kalutu, The Book of Lost Wisdom Seventeenth of Learning 1142 You want to level again? You need to start trusting me, Dahr. I only want what¡¯s best for you. Is Eric hurt? Did he come to harm? If I allowed him to continue to attack, what do you think would have happened? What would it take, Dahr, for you to start trusting me? You¡¯re not just a boy anymore, Dahr. You¡¯re a Nexus. And you will change the world. In fact, it¡¯s already begun. You need time to learn your class. Study the threads Dahr, and I¡¯ll reward you with another level. I won¡¯t do that, but he¡¯s perfectly safe. In fact, in some ways, he¡¯s never been better. You¡¯ll be seeing him soon enough. Have patience. More like you and he will be going to the same place. Be happy, Dahr. Kalutu is busy recruiting. You may not realize it yet, but Lost Wisdom is growing by leaps and bounds. Chapter 9 - The Test It seems the easy thing to do is seldom the right thing. I wonder how that can possibly be the case. Surely the easy thing and the right thing must be the same at least some of the time. Is it some cosmic conspiracy that makes each choice before us a burden of conscience? At the moment, this is not a problem I have, as I have been guided by circumstance, reacting rather than deciding, and I¡¯m getting tired of it. What I wouldn¡¯t give for a decision that I had some agency over, even a difficult one. It seems better than being at the mercy of events. Kalutu, The Book of Lost Wisdom Seventeenth of Learning 1142 So you would let the enemy have this battle? Of course. You know nothing of war. Even though the undead are building massive armies within the borders of Xarinos? You disappoint me. I had assumed you¡¯d be smarter. So sure you are. will tell me. Why did you examine her?¡± finally, he would get the recognition he so richly deserved. Chapter 10 - A New Role The wrath of the gods is terrible to behold, or at least I imagine this to be the case. An enemy can break your body, but the gods can break your soul. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 You are my sword when I need you to be, my justice when there is no other choice, but above all, you will be my voice during the hard times to come. As you have already experienced, it will be difficult. You may refuse, if you wish. He raised a sword against you, after previously attacking you. Which of your subjects would deny you the right to defend yourself? And what do you think holds more weight, being your citizen or being my servant? Your law or my judgment? If I were a witness against someone, what defense do you think they could offer to counter that. Citizens of Twyl have rights, because humans can get it wrong. You have to figure things out. You aren¡¯t present at the scene of most murders. Witnesses don¡¯t remember things correctly sometimes. Human justice depends on determining someone¡¯s innocence or guilt. If a human commits a murder, I don¡¯t have to try him to know that he has done so, because I was there. I am a witness with perfect recall. I know the motives of those involved. I know if a being intentionally killed another or if it was an accident. In your kingdom, in your court, you may do as you please, but those tried in my court don¡¯t have the same rights, because there is nothing they can say that I do not already know. I am the goddess of honor. Sometimes, honor makes demands of us that are uncomfortable. Are you my servant first, or the king of Twyl? Most of the time, you can. But there will be times when you will have to choose. I wish I could reassure you, dear Terrence, but I fear there will be more days like this. You must remember that this was a victory. You were in time to save Lord Ormund¡¯s soul. He will be different, but he will heal, and that¡¯s thanks to you. Of course you would have. You always know where your subjects are. It¡¯s one of your skills. My sister Iorana will want to examine it. What happened to Captain Jericho is not something I can easily explain. Somehow he was compromised and that shouldn¡¯t be possible. He was under another¡¯s influence. I don¡¯t think so. She was not telling you about the armies of the Undead King, she was telling me. My sister and I haven¡¯t spoken directly for a long time, but she has ways of letting me know what she wants me to. Oh, she definitely was. But I doubt she believed you could be turned. It is simply her way to try. Sarith may be reprehensible, but she has no love for the Undead King, of that I am certain. Sarith has spies in many places. It may even be that she has spies in Xarinos. But if she were truly allied with the Undead King, she would not reveal the existence of his hidden armies. My sister never lies. Whatever is happening in Xarinos, she chose to share that information for a reason. We can surmise she didn¡¯t do it out of any sense of duty. She wants something. But that is my problem, not yours. You have a kingdom to run. Chapter 11 - My First Dungeon! Even after spending some time in a dungeon, I don¡¯t really understand them. They make no sense. It almost seems as though the person who created them wants to keep you out and yet wants you to get through them at the same time. If you really want to hide treasure, there has to be cheaper, more effective ways to do so. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 a dungeon! For many adventurers, it represented the ultimate challenge. And though she was trying to find her husband, it didn¡¯t take away from the fact that she was on a holy quest for the goddess in her first dungeon. It felt unreal. She was only fourth level, and here she was with a team of nothing but familiars. If she lived to tell this tale, no one would believe it. Assuming there would be a tale, as she had yet to get past the corridor she was standing in. I don¡¯t mind. It feels good to be useful. It has been a long time. The pit is not wide. If I mark where it starts, most of us can jump it. I can make it. As can I. I don¡¯t think obstacles like that are our biggest concern. This place is crawling with trodara. Too many to count. Chapter 12 - A New Beginning Twenty-Eighth of Birth 1116 - 26 Years Ago It was dark. Oppressive. Striker felt pressure all over her body, like a warrior in plate armor had decided to take a nap and use her as a bed. She had yet to realize she was underground. She didn¡¯t taste the dirt that fell into her mouth, though she felt it. She shook her head to clear it, and more dirt drizzled down into her eyes, onto her cheeks. What the hell? As soon as the fog in her mind started to clear, Striker realized what must have happened. She struggled frantically through the loosely packed earth, coughing up dirt and small rocks. She was alive. Alive! She remembered the kreve, pictured it as if it still had her clamped in its massive jaws, but when she checked her body, no injuries corresponded to that recollection. Had she dreamt it? No, she was sure of that. It had happened. No dream could have possibly been that vivid. The pain, the stench of its breath, the sounds of bones cracking. There is no way she could have survived that attack. What did that leave? There was only one possible conclusion. She had died, after all. Was this the afterlife then? She looked around. It was dark, but that didn¡¯t seem to impair her vision as much as it should have. She looked up, but there was no moon tonight, or it was hidden behind clouds. She was standing next to a grove of trees as out of place as she was. Short stunted trees to be sure, but trees nonetheless. The patch of dirt from which they grew was an island in a sea of rock. That rock extended in every direction for quite a long way. That she could see that far disoriented her further. She looked down at her bare feet and realized she was naked. Whoever had buried her must have stripped her. She tried to imagine what condition her clothes must have been in after the attack and immediately understood why. What she didn¡¯t understand was why her body wasn¡¯t in the same condition. The possibility that she had become undead, become the enemy, didn¡¯t occur to her even then. So she assumed she was dead, and no one was around to correct that misconception. She had no idea which way to go, though the ground sloped up in one direction, which might give her a better view of the surrounding area. Well, she had wanted adventure and got it. In the future, she would confine her search for excitement to the times she was sober. A lesson learned the way most of her lessons had been learned¡ªtoo late to do her any good. After what seemed like hours of navigating rocky terrain, she noticed a figure somewhat below her, walking with what appeared to be a limp. She made her way to him, carefully climbing over areas where the rock had cracked and in some cases had risen up, making the going treacherous. He finally noticed her approach and stopped to wait for her to catch up. The first thing she noticed upon reaching him was that he had the bushiest eyebrows she¡¯d ever seen, as if he¡¯d pasted two caterpillars to his forehead. In most other ways he was nondescript, brown hair with just a hint of gray in it, brown eyes that seemed to blink just a bit too often, thin, cracked lips and a nose that would have been large enough to dominate his face, if it hadn¡¯t been for those remarkable eyebrows. Under other circumstances, she might have been embarrassed by her nudity, but her desire for information eclipsed every other concern. ¡°Are you all right?¡± he asked. She could hear the concern in his voice. ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± ¡°Sometimes, rebirth can be disorienting.¡± ¡°Rebirth?¡± ¡°You were dead, and now you are not.¡± ¡°Not dead?¡± ¡°No. You are reborn.¡± Striker studied the man suspiciously. ¡°Reborn? You mean I¡¯m undead.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what humans call us.¡± ¡°I¡¯m human.¡± ¡°You were.¡± Striker started to reply but stopped herself. Was it true? She reached inside, searching for that piece of Sheba that was always with her. She scoured her mind, exploring it as she had explored the landscape, but there was nothing¡­nothing¡­something? Something. An entity lurked within her, but it felt nothing like Sheba. It occupied the same space, but took up less room, somehow. It felt like it was there, and yet not there at the same time. Like if she paid too much attention to it, it would fade. Who are you? They call me the Undead King. What do you call yourself? Nylus. Why have you done this to me? Done what? Saved your life? No. You robbed me of my death. Did I? I don¡¯t recall doing that. Perhaps you don¡¯t know as much as you think you do. I know enough. But even as she thought it, she realized it wasn¡¯t true. She only knew what people had told her over the years. Her parents, the priests, she didn¡¯t believe most of what they said, so why should she believe this? I am no longer connected to Sheba. That is true. When you die, the tether to your god is destroyed. I hate it. I¡¯m sorry. Are you? Yes. Is it so hard to believe that I care about my people? Striker had no answer to that. She had been following Eyebrows while this conversation went on, not paying attention to her surroundings. So she was surprised when she saw tents up ahead. Several reborn were in evidence. They all looked human, but they weren¡¯t, and she knew it immediately, though she didn¡¯t know how. Without waiting for her to ask, Eyebrows explained. ¡°The reborn can always sense living beings. As reborn are not alive, at least in the sense that most use the word, you can immediately tell the difference between us and them. Humans aren¡¯t as fortunate.¡± ¡°Where are we?¡± ¡°This small village has no name. There are a number of these encampments along the border, far enough inside so that we¡¯re unlikely to be discovered by human aggressors. Our main function is to find new reborn and help orient them. As you might have noticed, it can be overwhelming.¡± As they approached the camp, a number of reborn emerged from tents or stopped what they were doing to welcome her. Striker had met groups of people quite frequently in her travels, but she had never seen a group of strangers react in such a friendly, open manner. She wondered if it was just an act, or if they were always like this. Already she was beginning to rethink everything she¡¯d learned about the undead. ¡°Why do the undead need tents?¡± ¡°So that if a human patrol makes it this far, at first glance, we look human. It gives us a chance to react, whether that means fleeing or fighting.¡± ¡°Do you fight more often than you run?¡± ¡°We do.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because if we don¡¯t, we will die. Humans are fond of their borders, but they do not seem to notice ours.¡± Striker thought about the statement and intuitively knew it to be the truth. The undead weren¡¯t thought to be sentient or civilized. The people of Death¡¯s Doorstep saw them more like dangerous animals that needed to be put down. They didn¡¯t acknowledge the border because the border to most humans was a boundary they didn¡¯t cross to stay safe. She had never once thought that the undead knew that boundary even existed or considered it a border from their point of view. She wondered what else she didn¡¯t know. She learned that Eyebrows was the leader of this small community, and that he pretty much left everyone to do their own thing as long as they did what needed to be done, which was to find recently reborn humans and explain to them their new situation. Eyebrows felt the job was important, and the others seemed to echo the sentiment. Over the days that followed, Striker settled in quickly, used to dealing with new groups of people. Someone had found her something resembling her old, worn leather, and she didn¡¯t bother to ask where¡ªor who it had come from. All of the undead wore some sort of clothing, most likely to fool humans that got close enough to the camp to see them. She found out that the reborn didn¡¯t need to eat or sleep, so there wasn¡¯t that much cleaning up to do. They didn¡¯t get cold, so they needed no fires. In fact, since fire was the one thing that could prevent them from coming back, they tended to avoid it. They didn¡¯t have to, they just did. It reminded her of when she was younger, how she used to sneak out onto a ledge over a canyon and look down, drawn by the danger and the fear of falling. Some people avoided heights and some people enjoyed them. The reborn had that same sort of reaction to fire. She enjoyed her time in what she began to euphemistically think of as orientation village. For the first couple of weeks everything was fine, and then she started to get sick. It started slowly. She felt run down. Tired. Those in the camp, most of them, were confused, but a couple of the more experienced reborn had seen it before. After a time, it was determined that Striker had a defect. Her rebirth had suffered a problem. She was told it could happen if a person was buried too far from the center of Xarinos, or when the wounds that caused death had done so much damage that they couldn¡¯t be fully healed by the process. She had to laugh. She couldn¡¯t even die right. Eyebrows explained it to her one night, while sitting around the non-existent campfire. In any human camp, it would have been there. She was still human enough to mourn its absence, though she didn¡¯t attempt to build one, out of respect for those who feared it. ¡°It seems that you have a life force leak. It¡¯s probably not a leak, but it¡¯s what some of us call it. We get our energy from ambient magic. We absorb it. It¡¯s balanced, for most of us, so that we have all the energy we need. If we¡¯re more active, we absorb more. You don¡¯t absorb enough magical energy to sustain yourself. That¡¯s the bad news.¡± ¡°Is there good news?¡± ¡°There is. The power that creates reborn almost always provides a way for them to survive, even if they¡¯re reborn flawed.¡± ¡°The power that creates reborn? Not the Undead King?¡± ¡°No. Reborn predate the arrival of the Undead King. He is our leader, not our creator.¡± That was news to Striker. ¡°Well, I feel like crap, so what do I do to feel better?¡± ¡°If I had to guess, I¡¯d say you have the ability to drain life force from living beings.¡± Striker frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve heard stories about creatures like that. It¡¯s not an attractive quality. I hope by living beings you don¡¯t mean humans.¡± ¡°Most beings kill to survive. They kill in self defense. They kill to eat. We¡¯re no different. But as to what your specific ability is, you won¡¯t know until you try it.¡± ¡°You just want me to walk up to some defenseless animal and suck the life out of it? I¡¯m not sure how I feel about that.¡± ¡°How do you feel about continuing on as you are, until you slowly fade away?¡± ¡°Not great. So, what, I just find an animal and try to drain it of energy?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the starting point. See if it works.¡± There wasn¡¯t much else to say, so they sat there, listening to the night sounds, enjoying each other¡¯s company. The comfortable silence between them made Striker feel like they were old friends. She wondered at that, considering how recently they¡¯d met. The next day, Striker set off into the woods¡­to hunt. The irony was not lost on her. She had once been a human servant of Sheba, who tracked down her next meal with a bow. Now she was a reborn servant of the Undead King using a completely different set of powers, but she was still a hunter. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. She spotted a small mammal poking its head out of a burrow. It looked like an improbable cross between a squirrel and a groundhog. She had seen them around, but didn¡¯t know what they were called. As she watched, it slowly turned its head to look at her. She expected the creature to dart to safety, but though it clearly saw her, it didn¡¯t flee. Striker moved closer, cautiously. The creature sat and watched as if waiting. She spoke to it in a soothing voice. ¡°I have no idea what you are. I have no idea why you¡¯re so cute. And if you don¡¯t escape soon, it will be too late for you.¡± The creature sat and looked at her. Innocent. Helpless against whatever new power she possessed. She was closing in on it now. Soon she would be able to reach out and touch it. And drain the life from its adorable brown-furred body. It made a slight chittering sound but didn¡¯t seem alarmed¡­more expectant. ¡°Go, shoo!¡± she yelled. The animal ducked back inside and vanished, unaware of how lucky it had been. Striker shook her head and chuckled. Stupid. She had hunted all sorts of creatures while she was still human, but now that she was undead, she suddenly had a conscience. It seemed backwards to her. The problem was, she needed to eat still, just differently. When had she become so squeamish? But even as the question formed in her mind, she had an answer. Striker herself had been hunted and now knew what it felt like. She understood the pain, the terror, the hopelessness, and she wasn¡¯t sure she could do that to an innocent animal. And yet, could she let herself starve? What if that was the right thing to do? No. Sheba was the goddess of the hunt, and if she needed energy to survive, hunting was hunting. She felt foolish now for letting the creature go, but it reaffirmed a commitment to her new existence, at least for now. The next animal she came upon, a stag, reacted to her in the same manner. She¡¯d seen mages use spells that did the same thing. It just stood looking at her, when it should have fled. But it didn¡¯t. It trusted her. And that, to her, was the worst part. This wasn¡¯t a contest. There was no real chance of it getting away, and for that reason it felt wrong¡ª but not wrong enough to prevent her from draining it. The process came naturally to her. She placed her hand against the stag¡¯s side and felt the energy flow out of it. She paused before she drained it completely, intuitively aware that it would develop life force back over time. The problem was, if she left it this way, it was vulnerable. Slower and weaker than it would have been. It would be a meal for some lucky wolf if she didn¡¯t finish the job. Reluctantly, she started draining again and had to admit, when it was done that she felt better. She left the carcass for the scavengers and continued her hunt. She wondered how many animals would have to die for her to sate her hunger and how often she would have to go on a killing spree. The answer to that question turned out to be a lot. She needed a lot of animal life energy to keep her feeling mostly well. She wondered if she¡¯d eventually hunt so much that she¡¯d have to move on, just to keep her energy going. At least she didn¡¯t have to suck the life from humans. It had been one of her greatest fears. Striker didn¡¯t mind being undead as long as she was able to retain her old morality. She didn¡¯t want undeath to change her¡ªwell change her more than it already had. Not having to eat, for example, was a great benefit. She¡¯d spent many days hungry when she¡¯d finally decided not to return to her parent¡¯s house. That would never happen again. But that boon had been offset by the fact that nothing tasted right, or rather, everything seemed to taste the same. She wasn¡¯t sure why this happened, but it definitely put a damper on eating. The good news was that food extended the magical reserves she had stored. That was another thing she didn¡¯t understand. Another thing she simply had to accept. Being undead was filled with trade-offs she hadn¡¯t bargained for. For example, she was stronger, faster and had more endurance than any unleveled human, but she could never level again. She didn¡¯t feel she¡¯d done enough wrong in her life to deserve spending the rest of it as a Level 4 Hunter. That¡¯s what she told herself. But there was another part of her, the part that had been told for so long that she wasn¡¯t good enough, would never be good enough, the part that had been beaten and punished and lectured day after day, year after year, that wasn¡¯t so sure. The constant fear that she had done wrong, would continue to do wrong, drove her to do right. She would never consume a human, because it was wrong, and she knew it. That much she could do. So she hunted and drained and hunted some more. And then one day, when she was looking for her next victim, she ran into something more than she bargained for. She sensed him even before he came into view. A human being. What the hell was he doing wandering this far into the Plains? Even from this distance she could see he was a warrior. He wore a sleeveless chain mail hauberk and carried what looked like a two-handed sword in a scabbard on his back. She watched him from the distance. He seemed to be looking around, but for what, she couldn¡¯t say. She felt it unlikely he was there to kill undead, since any human looking to do that would have come with a team. So what was he doing there? Easy enough to find out. She¡¯d walk up and ask him. It¡¯s not like he could tell she was undead¡ªreborn. She had to start changing how she thought if she were going to be able to live with herself. She approached cautiously, but openly. She didn¡¯t want a trained warrior to think she was sneaking up on him. ¡°Hello,¡± she said, as soon as he noticed her. ¡°Hello.¡± She looked him over and liked what she saw. He was muscular but not musclebound. He had a thick neck and broad shoulders made even broader by the hauberk. He¡¯d have been rather scary if his face hadn¡¯t been so kind. He had shiny black hair that reached his shoulders, and a matching neatly trimmed goatee. He might have been in his late twenties. His eyes were gray-blue and intense. He stared at her, as if he¡¯d never seen a woman before. ¡°What are you doing out here? It¡¯s not safe.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°There are undead around here. You haven¡¯t seen any?¡± ¡°Nope, no undead.¡± Just us reborn. ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid?¡± The concern in his voice touched her. ¡°No, not really. I¡¯ve heard that they¡¯re not as dangerous as people say they are.¡± He looked at her suspiciously, but then his expression turned curious. ¡°You don¡¯t think they¡¯re a danger?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief. Are you looking for them?¡± ¡°Looking for them?¡± He studied her. ¡°I¡¯m trying to find an undead. I¡¯m¡­curious.¡± ¡°Curious? You want to join them?¡± He seemed reluctant to admit it, but she could tell that¡¯s what he wanted. He didn¡¯t answer, but stood frozen, as if he were a child caught doing something he wasn¡¯t supposed to do. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she said. ¡°Tell me, why are you in Xarinos?¡± He dropped his gaze but answered. ¡°I was thinking of¡­dying. And coming back.¡± ¡°I see. It¡¯s not that uncommon.¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°I¡¯m one of them.¡± ¡°Wait? You¡¯re undead?¡± ¡°I¡¯m reborn. That¡¯s what we call ourselves. Only humans call us undead.¡± ¡°Reborn?¡± He said the word as if he were tasting a new dish for the first time. She could see him rolling it around in his head. ¡°It sounds a lot friendlier.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not monsters. We¡¯re people. People who have died and come back, but still people.¡± ¡°Well, if you¡¯re anything to go by, I guess I have to agree.¡± He smiled at her, and his teeth were white and perfect. She wondered what level he was. She wondered why he wanted to die but didn¡¯t ask. ¡°I¡¯m Trace, but my friends call me Striker.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Anth. Can I call you Striker?¡± ¡°You can. How about we walk back to camp, and I explain to you some of the benefits and drawbacks of being reborn.¡± ¡°That would be great. Can we sit for just a little though? I¡¯ve been walking for a long time.¡± ¡°Sure. I don¡¯t get as tired as I used to, so I forget. Take as long as you like.¡± Striker sat beside him. They were like two friends. He didn¡¯t build a fire, but it wasn¡¯t that cold. Well, she didn¡¯t think it was. It wasn¡¯t like she could feel the cold anymore. But he seemed comfortable enough. He was studying her, and she wondered what to say to get him to open up. ¡°So, did you have any questions?¡± ¡°A thousand. If only I could put them into words.¡± Striker laughed. ¡°You have a beautiful laugh.¡± ¡°I bet you never thought you¡¯d say that to one of the undead.¡± He looked startled when she said it. ¡°I guess I don¡¯t really see you as undead.¡± ¡°Because I¡¯m not. I¡¯m reborn, remember?¡¯ ¡°Right. Reborn. I have to get used to that.¡± ¡°It took me a while too.¡± She didn¡¯t bother to tell him how recently she¡¯d made that adjustment. ¡°So, I¡¯m not sure of the etiquette in these situations, is it okay to ask about how you died?¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty new, so I¡¯m not sure either, but I was killed by a kreve.¡± Anth winced. ¡°That sounds painful.¡± ¡°It was. Where are you from?¡± ¡°Loralei. I was a guard on a merchant caravan to Death¡¯s Doorstep. It was strange listening to people talking about the undead there. We¡¯ve had a treaty with the Undead King for so long, we don¡¯t really have the same sentiments about Xarinos as most of the world. And I hadn¡¯t traveled that much, so it opened my eyes a bit. And I had to admit, I was curious. I mean, the whole world hates Xarinos, and we don¡¯t. So maybe we were wrong. I just felt like I had to find out for myself. It seems too important for me to leave it to rumor. ¡°So I wandered across the border and met you. If first impressions are anything to go by, I think the people of Death¡¯s Doorstep got it wrong.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve had a change of heart about them myself, but it¡¯s early days for me. Still, nothing I¡¯ve seen suggests humans need to fear the reborn. It¡¯s like I¡¯ve lived my life so close to Xarinos and yet never thought to challenge what people were saying. My family, the priesthood¡­everyone. Sometimes I wonder how a people could get so bad a reputation.¡± Anth sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Like I said, it¡¯s not what I grew up with. I wonder what the reborn have to say about humans.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know that the reborn speak with one voice on the subject. All of the reborn I¡¯ve met started as humans and still have some attachment to that. I¡¯m not sure we can ever really separate ourselves from humanity. But of course, I haven¡¯t been reborn for long enough to know that.¡± ¡°Well, if the reborn needed to send an ambassador to sway my opinion of them, they did a pretty good job sending you.¡± Striker wasn¡¯t sure she could blush anymore, but she probably would have had she still been alive. She really liked Anth. And as she sat there, something she never expected began to happen. She became aroused. She hadn¡¯t really thought about the reborn having sex but couldn¡¯t deny her body was responding to the man who sat near her. She was drawn to him in a way she¡¯d never been drawn to a man before. Was it him, or something about being reborn that drove her reaction? She leaned closer, they hadn¡¯t been that far apart in the first place, and searched his eyes. She didn¡¯t know what would happen. She thought he might flinch away, but he didn¡¯t. He returned her gaze and waited. His gray-blue eyes blazed with intensity. She leaned closer and closer and he leaned in to meet her. And when their lips met, it was like the stories she¡¯d heard growing up about people finding their perfect other. Except he couldn¡¯t be her perfect other, could he? After all, he was human, and she was reborn. But the kiss felt amazing. It send a jolt through her. She was already removing her clothing, and trying to help him off with his armor at the same time. Within minutes they were both naked. She pushed him back and climbed on top of him, leaning down to kiss him again, but then pushing herself back up so she could watch his face. She¡¯d never experienced anything like this and finally knew why some women craved it. They writhed together as if they were dancing. There was a rhythm to it. The sensations captivated her completely. Nothing existed but their bodies and their primal lust. And when she thought it couldn¡¯t get more intense than it was, she threw back her head and screamed, too involved in the act to notice the echoes that heralded the moment for all to hear. Finally spent, she collapsed on top of him. And she lay there. She wasn¡¯t panting since she no longer drew breath. She look down and smiled. Like a typical man, he¡¯d already fallen asleep. She nuzzled into his neck, and imagined what the warmth of his body against hers would have been like had she been able to feel it. This¡­this is what she¡¯d been missing in her life. This closeness. This intimacy. And to think she had to die to discover it. Anth lay beside her, completely spent. She wondered at her future, then. Might he stay with her after his rebirth? Could two reborn have a long term relationship? Would he even want to? He certainly seemed to enjoy himself. Her hand brushed the grass they were laying on, and it was dry, sharp and tough. She was on top, but it couldn¡¯t be very comfortable for Anth, whose naked body must have been very uncomfortable indeed. He must be so exhausted. The passion, the energy¡­and then she felt a chill run through her, but it wasn¡¯t physical. ¡°Anth?¡± He should have been panting. Breathing heavily¡­but she couldn¡¯t hear his breath at all. She could hear animals breathing from quite far away with her superior reborn hearing. She tried to rouse him but knew even then that it was pointless. ¡°Anth¡­¡± Just a whisper, because he couldn¡¯t hear her anyway. There was nothing she could do. Striker had taken her first human life. She carried him back to camp, feeling horrible and amazing at the same time. Guilt made it impossible to enjoy the energy coursing through her, even though it was so exhilarating that she couldn¡¯t ignore the sensation. She had killed a man, and it felt great. The human part of her hated the feeling, but she couldn¡¯t deny the pleasure it brought her. She kept telling herself that he had come here to die, so she hadn¡¯t really done anything wrong. Fortunately, the energy provided her with the strength and speed to carry him all the way back to camp. As soon as they saw her, the others gathered. There were hushed whispers, but Eyebrows was the only one who addressed her. ¡°What do we have here?¡± ¡°His name is Anth. He came to join us. I found myself attracted to him and him to me. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew¡­¡± She ran out of words. She couldn¡¯t admit what she had done aloud. Eyebrows, however, didn¡¯t have the same issue. ¡°You drained all the life from him.¡± She nodded. ¡°Place him down on the ground. We¡¯ll take care of him.¡± Striker complied, still not trusting herself to speak. ¡°You have powers now, Striker. And with those powers comes responsibility.¡± Eyebrows gestured toward the body, and one of the men beside him lifted it and carried it off. Eyebrows and two others followed him. Striker watched until they were out of sight. Then she sank to her knees and dropped her head as if she still had the right to pray¡­or a goddess to pray to. She had killed a man, and though it had been an accident, she¡¯d enjoyed it. She embraced the thought for a while, because she needed to be punished for what she had done, and there was no one else to do it. She had always known she¡¯d been born wrong. But now she wasn¡¯t just disobedient, she was a murderer. She had taken a life. The only shred of hope she had was that Anth would come back and forgive her. Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. She repeated it over and over again in her mind. She stayed that way, on her knees, offering a prayer that no god would ever hear, until she sensed someone approach. She opened her eyes and looked up. It was a reborn woman, watching her. ¡°You¡¯re upset.¡± Striker nodded but didn¡¯t speak. She didn¡¯t have words to defend her actions. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be. They¡¯re not like us. They¡¯re not worthy of your grief. Humans are what¡¯s wrong with this world. You didn¡¯t hurt that man¡­you saved him.¡± Striker didn¡¯t respond. She didn¡¯t know how. The reborn woman waited a short time, then shrugged and walked away, leaving Striker alone with her guilt. For two days she knelt there. A day ago, she¡¯d have had to have gone hunting to keep her energy levels up, but not this time. The life force inside was still there. She wasn¡¯t¡­hungry, for lack of a better word. Well that was something. As soon as she thought it, she cursed herself. She shouldn¡¯t be happy benefiting from another¡¯s misfortune, particularly misfortune at her hands. She dropped her head and continued to wait. If the day grew cold or the sun was hot, she couldn¡¯t say, because she no longer felt it. She no longer felt anything except self-loathing. And then, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, he was there. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Her eyes had been closed, but she opened them and looked up. She pushed herself to her feet and took a step toward him, but the rage in his eyes stopped her in her tracks. She dropped her head and answered his question. ¡°No. More importantly, are you okay?¡± Anth sighed. ¡°I came here because I was curious. Not because I¡¯d made up my mind. Now I have no choice. That¡¯s on you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯ll never know how sorry I am.¡± ¡°Why should I care? I came here to learn the truth about the undead, and the very first one I met drained all the life from me. How do I know you¡¯re not all like this?¡± Before she could answer, Anth turned and walked away. She wanted to say something to stop him, to explain, but the ability to speak had deserted her. Like so often in the past, when her parents had scolded her, when the priests had lectured her, Striker retreated into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible, so that they would feel some sympathy and stop. It hadn¡¯t worked then, and it didn¡¯t work now, but of course, Anth had no reason to be sympathetic. She had accused the Undead King of robbing her of her death. And she had done the same to Anth. Striker never saw him again. Never even tried to seek him out, because he had been right. He had no reason to listen to her excuses. He had no reason to forgive her. And she had no reason to forgive herself. She had been a servant of Sheba. She had been honorable. Now, she was just a murderer. Her family had been right. She was broken. A few of the reborn came to her after that, trying to reassure her that she hadn¡¯t done anything wrong, but Striker didn¡¯t hear them. She didn¡¯t want to hear them. She had murdered a man, and there was no one to punish her. That night, she walked away from the reborn encampment and never looked back. She didn¡¯t deserve their help or support. She didn¡¯t need it. What she needed was redemption. And she wouldn¡¯t find it in a reborn camp. Striker traveled west and never set foot on the Plains of Xarinos again. Chapter 13 - The Right Tool for the Job I have often heard it said that it is important to use the right tool for the job, probably because using the wrong tool isn¡¯t very efficient. This obviously makes sense. It must be nice to know what you have to do. If I were a blacksmith, I would have a hammer and anvil. If I were a hunter, I might have a bow. But I am neither of those things. I¡¯m a familiar to two masters, with a bevy of my own familiars, in a dungeon for the very first time. I¡¯m not sure they even make the kind of tool I need. Worse still, if I managed to find this tool, I probably wouldn¡¯t recognize it. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 Did Striker leave them? Kill them? Hand them off to someone else? Congratulations. You have reached Level 13. New skill unlocked, Soul Salve. Goodnight, Queen Treya. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Chapter 14 - Its Not Magic No matter how far you get from where you started, everything eventually starts to seem familiar. People have the same motivations no matter where you end up. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Seventeenth of Learning 1142 / October 4, 2023 Chapter 15 - The Long Journey Twelfth of Birth 1122 - Twenty Years Ago A gentle breeze blew over the Fellowship on a day that seemed to say that all was right in the world. The branches in the trees rustled, and their chorus was reassuring. The wind sent tiny ripples across the lake, and the sun glinted off the top of it, making the surface of the water sparkle like gold. The grass, emerald-green under the radiant sun, shimmered as the morning dew slowly evaporated. And then the screams began, cutting through the scene like a scythe, reaping the crop of serenity and replacing it with something darker. The sound came from a small house set perfectly on a rise to prevent flooding; a quaint dwelling in good repair, brightly painted, perfectly matching the tableau. The setting inside the house, however, was quite different. Four gray-robed figures were present inside, all crowded into the bedroom, where a woman struggled to give birth. The small room was cluttered with books, various rocks of different sizes and shapes, articles of clothing strewn about haphazardly, some clean, others already worn. A small collection of masks adorned the wall beside the bed, the only thing in sight that seemed ordered, as if those masks held a place of honor all their own. The onlookers stood side by side at the foot of the bed, matching robes forming a wall of gray. Expressions of concern etched their faces. The oldest was a thin man of about seventy, with wrinkles woven into his weathered face. His bald head displayed no facial hair and his eyes were a milky-white, clouded as they were by the cataracts that covered them. Any normal human would have been unable to see the woman on the bed, but the man saw her perfectly, using skills that most people would not only never possess, but would not have even heard of. The woman beside him was about sixty. Her short, curly hair completely gray, but it seemed to suit her. The wrinkles about her mouth spread throughout her face like a series of hair-line cracks forming on an icy lake. The whiteness of her skin added to the effect. She was set apart from the others by her black belt. The other two wore belts of dark gray. The final woman had light-brown skin completely unwrinkled in spite of her advanced years. But determining how old she was would have been difficult. Many thought her to be in her thirties, but no, she was older than that. No matter what age you might have first assumed her to be, something belied it. Her once auburn hair was now streaked with gray. Her silver eyes were as clear as the man¡¯s were cloudy. Her nose was hooked like the beak of a bird of prey and her thin lips frowned in sympathy at the woman on the bed, who lay prone, writhing in pain. She had kicked off the covers, and they lay forgotten on the floor. The formerly white sheets were stained with sweat and blood. That the woman would die was a given. None of the three standing at the foot of the bed doubted it. It had been foreordained and would happen as surely as the sun would set. They tried to comfort the screaming woman, but even she knew she was dying, so the only comfort to be had was to live long enough to make sure the child survived. That much she could do. They stood silently throughout the vigil, or at least, it would have appeared that way to any outsider. In reality, they were talking telepathically to each other as was their way when there were no outsiders about. They were kindred, who the world at large called the Fellowship. Today would be a day of celebration and mourning. The babe arrived at the appointed hour, a girl, as they had known it would be. At the moment of birth, a gentle breeze blew through the window, cooling and comforting the sweating mother, who gratefully acknowledged the breeze and honored it by naming the child after it¡ªZephyr. She never spoke the name aloud, but they had all heard it in their minds and that was enough. Only when she was sure that the child had lived and was healthy did she release her hold on life, fading away joyfully. She left behind three kindred to mourn her passing in whatever way they chose, for this too was the way of her people. The screams of pain were replaced with the sound of a newborn crying. There was death and there was birth, as always, and Zephyr would be with them. But Zephyr was special, and they all knew it. They had been waiting for her for a long time. For Zephyr, named for a gentle breeze on a perfect day, was the sign that the kindred were to once again find themselves returned to the larger world. It marked a momentous moment in history, even if none of them understood it. The first Undead War was still five years away and when it arrived, they would refuse to honor their alliance with the Undead King, because that was what the way required of them. He would be angry, but even he could not afford to offend the kindred. But in twenty years time, there would be a second war, and the kindred would rally to the aid of the Undead King, because it was meant to be. The other races of Thysandrika had been scared of the kindred from the beginning. In twenty years they would have their reason. I will take Zephyr and raise her as my own. No one questioned Lady Fury¡¯s authority. She was the greatest of them. The one who saw most clearly. Her reading of the way was flawless, and they all knew it. They took the newborn with them and left the corpse to be consumed by nature, as was their way. But the essence of the woman who had lived inside that corpse was still with them in a very tangible way. In the scheme of things, losing a body was as much a promotion as a loss¡­ a right of passage. The woman would never be mentioned again, and Zephyr would never hear her name spoken, but she would always feel her mother¡¯s presence when the way finally called her home. * Second of Approaching 1136 - Six years ago In spite of the prophecy surrounding her, and the expectations placed upon her, Zephyr was an ordinary girl. Like all kindred, she waited for her calling. For some, the calling came very young, for others, it came when they were much older. Most people thought Zephyr would be called sooner, but it didn¡¯t happen. And though no one ever said anything about it, the idea that she wasn¡¯t all she was supposed to be was an undercurrent in her life. The pressure of being a person of importance without actually being important was always in the background, as if she were waiting for something, and it had passed her by. As she grew older without being called, she began to wonder if perhaps the prophecy about her was wrong after all. But no one spoke about it, so she didn¡¯t either. If she were good at anything, she¡¯d have turned her attention to it, but as fate would have it, Zephyr was average in every way. She wasn¡¯t particularly smart. She could lay no claim to an exceptional athletic ability, being neither agile nor strong. She wasn¡¯t good at any craft. She was simply there, a mediocrity in a world of competency. It would have been fine if she hadn¡¯t been one of the chosen, but she was and could never escape the weight of expectation. She¡¯d begun to feel that pressure even before she¡¯d overheard a conversation between two of the council and Lady Fury. She had been outside their cottage. She was supposed to be meditating but, as often happened, she got distracted and never made it to her chosen spot. Instead, she became absorbed watching a beehive. So many individuals all working together, constantly communicating with each other, much like the kindred themselves. When she heard voices coming from the house, curiosity drove her to eavesdrop. This is normally impossible for kindred, as they were aware of each other and those inside would have noticed her had she already been called. But she hadn¡¯t and that connection was missing. She didn¡¯t know Lady Fury¡¯s guests by name, but she had some idea that they were important within the larger scheme of things. One of them was talking. ¡°¡­your ward, but it¡¯s been fourteen years now. The child is unexceptional. Are you certain she is the one?¡± Zephyr wondered why they were talking instead of using telepathy as they normally would. ¡°I am.¡± Lady Fury¡¯s voice was calm, confident, relaxed. It was entirely possible she had expected this visit. But Zephyr knew they were talking about her, and her heart sank as she listened. ¡°She hasn¡¯t been called yet, and many her age have. I would never challenge your prophecy, but¡­¡± ¡°And yet you are here to question the veracity of it. Hypocrisy is a bad look for you, Gabriella. Many of our number are called when they¡¯re older, and some of them have become powerful within the community. Should we hold her to a different standard than others?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what we¡¯re saying,¡± said another voice, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from conflict. ¡°We are just here to ask if you¡¯re certain, and since you said you are, that¡¯s good enough for us.¡± There was a long silence, and Zephyr could almost picture the other woman, Gabriella, holding back what she really wanted to say. Still, no kindred would openly challenge Lady Fury. She was right too often to risk it. ¡°Lady Fury, forgive our intrusion. I¡¯m certain you have more important things to do than to allay our fears. Of course we believe you. You haven¡¯t been wrong so often that we have reason to doubt.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m not wrong now. We must have patience, as the world won¡¯t turn more quickly if we don¡¯t. Thysandrika is changing, of that I have no doubt, but such change takes time. All the pieces must be in position before the child is called.¡± ¡°Is that a prophecy?¡± ¡°It is not. It is common sense. Sometimes I think common sense is a greater gift than prophecy. It seems fewer people possess it.¡± Zephyr almost gasped. Lady Fury was directly slighting two council members. But the women did not rise to the bait. Regardless, Zephyr had heard enough. The council was disappointed with her, and Lady Fury¡¯s reputation was suffering because of it. She felt horribly guilty, considering how much Lady Fury had done for her. She would have to try harder. Anything less would be a betrayal. The decision made, the beehive forgotten, she walked from the small cottage to the place she meditated every day, beneath the tree overlooking the pond. Perhaps, she thought, today would be the day, but of course, it wasn¡¯t. Whatever she was waiting for, it better happen soon. The weight of failure was beginning to crush her. * Twenty-eighth of Harvest 1139 - 3 years ago Zephyr thought of her calling a lot. The few outsiders who had knowledge of the calling likened it to being called to their own transition, but it was nothing like that. There was no outside power here, only inside power. A breaking of the internal barrier that kept you separated from the rest of the kindred. When that barrier faded, you could touch the way. She had been waiting to be called for as long as she could remember. It was all she waited for. She had been taught that meditation was vastly important to taking down internal walls, so you could hear the calling when it came. For this reason, she meditated often. As with everything else, she wasn¡¯t particularly good at it. She was always distracted by a nearby butterfly, or the wind ruffling her hair, or the sound of a fish jumping out of the water in the pond, but it didn¡¯t stop her from trying. She spent hours practicing her meditation with, she had to admit, extremely limited progress. Still, she had to keep trying. Her people depended on her, so she never gave up. Other children her age had experienced something of childhood, but Zephyr had not. She was the ward of Lady Fury, who everyone looked up to. Lady Fury schooled her personally in her own areas of expertise and brought in tutors to see to the areas she wasn¡¯t as strong in. Zephyr was taught by the best of the best, which only highlighted her inferiority. So many of the other children could have benefited from this sort of personal instruction, but it was always an uphill battle for her. She really did try her best. She was desperate to prove herself, but each passing year made it harder and harder to believe. Then, one day when she was seventeen, she went to the pond to meditate. Zephyr enjoyed meditating, she just wished she was better at it. She sat with her eyes closed, breathing deeply, releasing her breath slowly, focusing on it, forgetting the distractions. It had taken a long time, but she felt she was finally getting the hang of it. Today in particular, it seemed like nothing penetrated the veil, and she was alone in the cosmos. She had no sense of time, so she didn¡¯t have any idea of how long she had been sitting there when she heard the shout. Lady Fury was trying to warn her. She opened her eyes and right in front of her, only a few feet away, was a fraylian. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. She had seen the large, carnivorous cats at a distance, but they tended to shy away from people, unless they were hungry. The beast, green with yellow stripes, stared at her, perhaps wondering why she didn¡¯t attempt to flee. Zephyr remained unmoving, unflinchingly meeting the beast¡¯s golden eyes. The fraylian was too close to run from, but fighting wasn¡¯t an option either. She wasn¡¯t much good at it and didn¡¯t have a weapon, thus she had no chance against the creature if it attacked. It was both too large and strong for her¡­but it just stood there, first looking at her, than looking around as if puzzled, sniffing the air uncertainly. Zephyr wasn¡¯t afraid. Perhaps the calm of her meditative state had followed her back to the real world. She continued her breathing and stared at the creature. After a few minutes, it turned and loped off across the grass, away from the kindred settlement. Lady Fury was on her in a moment. ¡°Are you all right? That was amazing! Congratulations.¡± Zephyr, still sitting, looked up at her, puzzled. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± Lady Fury looked frustrated for only a moment before breaking into laughter. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Zephyr, searching her mentor¡¯s face for some clue as to what she had found funny. ¡°You turned yourself invisible, girl. That¡¯s a very rare talent, even among kindred.¡± Zephyr laughed with her. ¡°I think I¡¯d know if I turned myself invisible.¡± ¡°I¡¯d think that too. We¡¯d both be wrong. You¡¯ve touched the ineffable, my girl. You should be able to hear us.¡± ¡°But I can¡¯t¡­¡± But even as she said it, Zephyr realized there was a humming in the background that almost blended in with the sound of the wind rustling through nearby bushes. Voices. There were voices. And then one voice emerged from the others, louder than the rest. Congratulations child. I knew you could do it. Lady Fury? Of course. It will be interesting to see where your talents lie, but I think we have a pretty good idea of where to start. Because invisibility is such a rare talent, we don¡¯t have a lot of information about what might accompany it, but we can make a few educated guesses. I don¡¯t think anyone would have guessed that you would be a stealth specialist. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard of one. Very few kindred have such specializations. Well, I assume there are. There could be a lot and I just can¡¯t see them. They both laughed and, just like that, the tension of the long wait faded. Zephyr had been called. Her childhood, such as it was, was at an end, and it was time to focus on her progression. They called it the long journey, and it lasted a lifetime. From where she sat now, it was an open road that could lead anywhere. The thought of it thrilled her. What happens now? Nothing yet, but it won¡¯t be long before the others start to notice your presence. There¡¯ll be a lot of congratulations and well wishes, and until that¡¯s done you won¡¯t be able to focus on anything. But tomorrow, you¡¯ll start the long journey. I strongly suspect yours will take you where no kindred has ever gone. * 1119-1122 - Three years ago to the present Zephyr learned more quickly than she ever had before. She found becoming invisible was easy for her, even though others assured her that it was one of the harder talents. People had to train for years to master the ability, and even those that did, didn¡¯t have her talent with it. Zephyr could become invisible at will and stay that way indefinitely, or at least, she had never reached her personal limit. Lady Fury theorized that her desire to be unseen due to her inferiority complex helped her, because she craved that anonymity so greatly. She had grown up burdened by unfair expectation, and when she couldn¡¯t meet those challenges, all she wanted to do was hide. So perhaps it was no coincidence that invisibility was her first skill. It was not her last. Over the years she learned how to move fast, to give herself crystal skin that would shield her from damage and cut anyone who tried to grapple with her. She learned how to move silently, and even consciously mask her scent, which she had apparently managed that first day when she had been stalked by the fraylian. Where she had never been good at anything before, she excelled at hiding and movement. No one alive could remember ever seeing her equal. Yet even this attention made her want to hide. What she really wanted was to be free of the expectations and obligations that had cast a shadow on Zephyr for her entire life. She wanted to be like others and not have to shoulder a burden that she felt would be difficult even for a fully trained adult. But the burden was hers to bear, and so shoulder it she would. She owed Lady Fury at least that much. She worked hard and honed her skills. She poured every bit of effort into learning, practicing every skill she could develop, even some that others thought she shouldn¡¯t have. Her divination skills were rudimentary, but her abilities to detect various specific things like magic were quite strong. The one thing she knew was that the skills she had were relatively useless on the island. Which led her to believe she would eventually have to leave, and that terrified her. For almost three years, she pushed herself to the limit, impressing people that had all but given up on her. They should have trusted the prophecy more. They should have believed Lady Fury. But they had not, not really, and now, she would show them. Lady Fury had taken her in and taught her, had been patient with her, and Zephyr would not let her down¡­even if she didn¡¯t know where her path would lead. To Zephyr, making Lady Fury proud was the most important thing. One day, Lady Fury telepathically called her into her study, and Zephyr, who was in her meditation spot, stood and walked toward the house. It was, strangely enough, a day almost exactly like the day she was born, and she knew it, because others had been there. Inside, she found Lady Fury sitting at her desk. ¡°Come Zephyr, sit with me.¡± ¡°Why are you talking?¡± ¡°Because it is too easy to eavesdrop on telepathic conversations.¡± ¡°Truly?¡± That didn¡¯t make sense to Zephyr. How could you overhear conversations that only occurred in someone¡¯s head? ¡°In any other place, this would not be true, but here on the island, with everyone having some sort of innate mental ability, it is. People won¡¯t be able to hear us unless they¡¯re close enough. A person adept at telepathy could hear us from the other end of the island. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that was possible.¡± ¡°There is much you don¡¯t know yet, but that is the journey, is it not? It never ends. Even I am learning every day. Some days, I think I know less than I did when I was younger.¡± ¡°Do you think that is true?¡± Lady Fury chuckled. ¡°No, of course not. But as I¡¯ve gotten older, I realize how much I don¡¯t know, which I didn¡¯t always realize when I was younger. The gap of what I know compared to what I don¡¯t know is always growing, even though I am always gaining knowledge. That is to say, knowledge comes into existence faster than I can acquire it, so the deficit of my ignorance increases always.¡± ¡°That sounds unpleasant.¡± ¡°And yet it is true for all of us. Do not be quick to be sure of yourself, because in this life you will be wrong as often as you are right.¡± ¡°But your prophecies always come true. Everyone says so.¡± ¡°My prophecies are always true when I interpret them correctly. In your case, however, I am relatively sure I have done so. You¡¯ve already started your journey, but now your journey must take you away from this place. Away from the island. Away from your people. You must seek out Prince Eric and Prince Dahr of Twyl, and you must travel with them and serve them as you would serve me.¡± ¡°But who are they? And why should I serve these outsiders?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Prophecy doesn¡¯t say why, only what must be. And you must serve these princes, for what needs to happen to occur. It is vitally important. They might ask you to do things you wouldn¡¯t normally do, but you must be willing to do them.¡± ¡°Anything they ask?¡± ¡°Anything.¡± ¡°What if one of them wishes to have sex with me?¡± Lady Fury chuckled again. ¡°Anything really does mean anything, but I strongly suspect that won¡¯t be what they ask of you. The princes are embroiled in a cosmic happening that transcends physical needs and desires. I do not know what they are going to go through, but in these matters, there is always a price, and I fear one of them will have to pay that price.¡± Zephyr dropped her head. She did not want to leave Lady Fury, the only family she had ever known, but she was only here because of the prophecy and she would, of course, obey the calling. ¡°Lady Fury, how will I know how to find them?¡± ¡°You won¡¯t. Just follow the way, and it will take you to where you need to be. You¡¯ve been taught to see the signposts. You know how to read the psychic wind. You will find your way to them. Just let yourself go. Fate will guide you, as always.¡± ¡°Does everyone have Fate?¡± ¡°No. Only those so chosen. The special ones like you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t feel special.¡± ¡°So many of the special ones do not. I don¡¯t feel special either, but I am honored above all other kindred for my prophecies. But now, it is time for you to eat and get some rest. Tomorrow morning, you will be gone.¡± ¡°Tomorrow? So soon.¡± ¡°It has been too long already. Get some food and get some rest. I will be there to see you off.¡± And just like that, Zephyr was dismissed. She walked from the room, head buzzing, hardly able to focus on anything, but suddenly, she felt the urge to go to her room. To be alone. She sat on her sleeping mat, cross-legged and tried to meditate. It was hard at first. She had never meditated here before, though she felt that if she were to travel away from here, she would have to learn to meditate wherever her path led her. She might as well start now. As the minutes passed, the breathing helped her relax, and she felt a presence. She opened her eyes, and a woman she had never seen before stood in front of her. Hello, Zephyr. She studied the woman, who looked familiar. The long brown hair, the brown eyes, the shape of her nose she looked like¡­like Zephyr herself. Mom? More or less. I¡¯m here with the kindred. I¡¯ve always been here. They say that, but I had always assumed it was a metaphor. In some ways it is. All that I was, all that I knew passed into the collective consciousness. This is the essence of who I was. Why have you waited so long to visit me? Because you hadn¡¯t asked for me, and now you have. I did? Your fear of leaving is holding you back. I¡¯m here to allay your fears. No matter where you go, I will be with you, as I have been for all your life. Zephyr felt a tear roll down her cheek. Her mother had been there, and she hadn¡¯t known. So much wasted time. And yet not, for she would be there now when Zephyr needed her most. You won¡¯t leave me again? I never left you in the first place. You were just unable to sense me. I am here now because you need me. Whenever you need me, I will be here. Oh, mom. The thought comforted her. Her mother would be there. And suddenly, Zephyr wasn¡¯t quite as scared of leaving. But where would she go? Well, the first step was getting off the island, which meant the ferry to the mainland. Then she would see what clues the way would provide her. There would be some indication of where she was to go, of that she was certain. And for the first time, she felt a tinge of excitement. Tomorrow she and her mother would make their way to the mainland, and she would start walking. Somewhere out there in the greater world were two princes that she was destined to serve. She wondered what they would be like. They, like her, had destiny. She hoped she¡¯d like them. It would be awful to serve a prince she didn¡¯t like, but she¡¯d do it if that was the way. As kindred, it was quite literally what she lived for. * Seventeenth of Learning 1142 - present day ¡°My name is Zephyr, and I am kindred. There are those who would say that we are not human, but they are wrong. We are simply humans that have rejected the gods. There is a lot the people of Thysandrika don¡¯t understand about us, and so they fear us. Ignorance often stokes the flames of fear. We believe that we can be our own gods, find our own talents by following a path we call the way. ¡°It is not easy to explain the way to outsiders. In some manner, the way is our god, but it is not sentient. It has no desires. It has no agenda. Yet it gives us direction and purpose. We choose to follow the way, for the way protects us, or rather, we protect ourselves by following it. The way places us where we need to be. I have followed the way since I have been called, not because I have to, but because when I do, I benefit. When I don¡¯t, I pay the price.¡± ¡°That sounds very much like a god to me,¡± said Chari. She still had her sword drawn, though at least now, instead of being pointed directly at Zephyr, it hung loosely at her side. Still, Zephyr knew that the wrong answers would escalate the princess¡¯s fears into something more. Only total honesty would serve here. Most people can sense when another is being completely open. ¡°Maybe. I know less about the gods than I should. Regardless, the way has led me from The Fellowship into a world I do not know much about. But I know everything every kindred knows, and so that information is always available to me. This makes me powerful. And that power makes others fear me. Fortunately my skill set protects me. ¡°I can become invisible at will, I can move quickly and silently, I can blur myself to make myself hard to hit, I can draw the attention of foes and then lose it just as easily. I can detect intent, class, level, magic, and danger. I can speak any language anyone of the other kindred knows, so I can converse with virtually anyone on Thysandrika. And even with all that, following the way is the most powerful of all my skills. ¡°The way has led me here, across a hostile landscape, through this dungeon, avoiding traps and creatures alike. It has led me to you, Princess Chari, and you, eventually, will lead me to Prince Eric and Prince Dahr. I know this with certainty, because the way has led me to you and this place at just the right time to help you defeat the pasdara. It would not have led me here if you could not help me fulfill my destiny.¡± ¡°I still don¡¯t understand,¡± said Chari. ¡°What are your intentions toward the princes?¡± ¡°I am here to help them in whatever way they need help. I will give my life to protect them, if that becomes necessary.¡± ¡°Why would a kindred want to protect them? Why do you care? How do you even know about them?¡± ¡°Our tasks are given to us by the council who rule the kindred. Lady Fury is my¡­ I don¡¯t think there is a word in your language. I am her ward, but also her student.¡± ¡°Like an apprentice?¡± ¡°Just so. That is as close as any description I have heard, though a master passes down their skills to an apprentice and in my case, that didn¡¯t happen. My skills are my own and have nothing to do with Lady Fury¡¯s skills. Her skills have to do with divination and prophecy.¡± ¡°Why is she called Lady Fury?¡± asked Kalutu. ¡°Our names are personal. I have never asked her, but I have never seen Lady Fury lose her temper.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± said Chari. ¡°My name is Zephyr, because a gentle breeze was blowing when I was born. My name does not mean that I am a breeze. Regardless, I have helped you and will continue to help if you will have me.¡± ¡°And if I won¡¯t have you?¡± ¡°Then I will follow you until you lead me to Prince Eric and Prince Dahr, and I will offer my services to them directly.¡± ¡°And if I decide that you will not follow us?¡± ¡°Then I will vanish and follow you without your knowledge, though I would prefer not to do that.¡± ¡°And if I were to kill you now, so you couldn¡¯t do that?¡± ¡°Then I would be dead. You will have thwarted the way, and what harm might befall the two princes will be on your head.¡± ¡°I only have your word on all of this.¡± ¡°That is true. But I did help you. You can not deny that.¡± Chari sighed. She stared into Zephyr¡¯s eyes as if there was some chance she could read what was written in them. For a long time, she didn¡¯t say anything. When she spoke, her voice was somehow both resolute and resigned at the same time. ¡°Fine. You can come with us¡­ but I¡¯ll be watching you.¡± ¡°I would expect no less from you, Princess Chari. You are Sheba¡¯s sword, after all.¡± ¡°And how do you know that?¡± ¡°I told you. I know everything that every kindred knows.¡± ¡°Are you saying there was a kindred in the throne room when Sheba said that to me?¡± ¡°Either that, or someone in the throne room gave the story to a kindred.¡± ¡°You people are scary.¡± ¡°We are misunderstood. You being afraid of us does not make us monsters.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± said Chari, ¡°but it doesn¡¯t make you not monsters either.¡± Chapter 16 - Divine Theater Just because we can¡¯t see patterns in what is in front of us, doesn¡¯t mean those patterns don¡¯t exist. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 Her. I was. Does it bother you? My old master didn¡¯t care to find out my gender before naming me. I was new to being a familiar and didn¡¯t want to rock the boat, so I didn¡¯t say anything. Once some time had passed, I realized he didn¡¯t care much about me one way or another, and it never came up again. I had one before, but Bruce is fine. The old name was in the spider tongue and mostly consisted of clicks and hisses. You wouldn¡¯t be able to pronounce it. lycanthrope are both gone, and no one can find them.¡± Chapter 17 - Dungeon Runners I love stories about dungeons, or at least I imagine I would had I heard any. The idea of a lost underground labyrinth filled with monsters and treasure is exciting. Being in an actual dungeon, however, is equal parts boredom and terror, with a sprinkle of excitement should you overcome the odds. Perhaps this would be more fun if I was more powerful and not responsible for a host of familiars. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 Eighteenth of Learning 1142 - October 5, 2023 The Undead Wars.¡± I¡¯ll go, said Bruce. I¡¯ll scout the situation and return. Chapter 18 - King Leonids Burden Fourteenth of Striving 1106 - 36 Years Ago The library in the castle in Melar was enormous. Huge wooden bookcases lined every wall, spanning the distance to the high ceiling. Three large circular dark wood tables, polished to a shine, were equally spaced throughout the room, each surrounded by four matching chairs. Between the bookcases, magical lamps illuminated the entire space. There would be no fire in this room to threaten the wealth of tomes, books and scrolls. Prince Leonid stood over a book-laden table, casting his eyes over the entire collection, searching for the one volume that might contain the solution he sought. The chair behind him remained unused. There had to be an answer. There had to be¡ªor so he had assumed when he¡¯d begun his research. Unfortunately, there was little information to be found. The issue, of course, was why he couldn¡¯t cast a spell, even when he understood it so perfectly. The term used most often was competence. Some people were spell competent. It was very rare. It meant they could learn and cast any spell in existence. There were others who were competent only with certain types, such as fire, ice or divination spells. This was somewhat more common. There was always a chance that a mage couldn¡¯t learn a specific spell, and rarely a specific type of spell. There were many theories as to why that was, but no one seemed to know. It was all guesswork. Even the greatest magical scholars, a group of people Leonid now found himself a part of, didn¡¯t seem to have a clue. He didn¡¯t understand why more research hadn¡¯t been done in this area. One day, he¡¯d have to rectify that. Spell incompetence, the inability to cast any spells at all, occurred with the same frequency as spell competence. Prince Leonid was spell incompetent and hated it, hence is preoccupation with the topic. Only a book written by a mage who called himself Lost gave Leonid any hope at all. Lost had been declared spell incompetent, first by his mentor, then by the magic guild. Like Leonid, Lost turned his attention to studying magic, even though he couldn¡¯t use it at all. What he found was that though he was spell incompetent with every spell he attempted, there was one school of magic he¡¯d never tried, and that turned out to be the only magic he could cast. It was a small hope, but that was better than no hope at all. Leonid created a list of every type of spell, and crossed off the ones he had worked with extensively. All the elements were out. Divination, alteration, time¡­he¡¯d tried a number of spells of those types. Same with animals and plants. But there were a few less common spell types that people didn¡¯t discuss. Some older ones were no longer listed, and those were the ones that interested him. Spirit magic was the one he¡¯d tried the least. There weren¡¯t many books with spirit magic spells listed, but he knew a lot about the theory. All he really needed was the segunda syllable that would attune the magic he was attempting to use to the spirit plane. He knew the words and gestures. He knew the format for making a spell. A simple one was what he needed. Something easy. Paper and ink were always nearby, and he fetched them now. He started working out a spell formula for what he was trying to do. He had never summoned a spirit before but felt it shouldn¡¯t be that hard to compose a spell. The only real issue he had was tracking down the magical signature of something that had once been alive. There were a few books that listed magical signatures. Not many, but enough. It took him a while to find one, but his father¡¯s library had always been extensive. He suspected his father regretted tethering to Se Karn instead of Mitra. This library had been his penance. Sometimes Leonid wondered how Se Karn felt about the situation. Why would a god want someone who wanted to worship another? He had no idea. He forced his mind back to the topic at hand. He looked up and took a moment to stretch. He¡¯d have to take a break soon. He¡¯d been at this for hours, and fatigue was beginning to overtake him. Just a bit more and he¡¯d be able to rest. First he drew a magical circle on the floor of the library. He didn¡¯t worry about being discovered. In all the time he¡¯d spent here, no one had ever entered. As far as he knew, he was the only one who used this place. He inscribed the entity¡¯s name inside the circle, carefully copying it from the book he had originally found it in. He finished by drawing the necessary ritual symbols to keep it contained. Now all that was left was the summoning. He copied the magical signature down onto the page with the rest of his spell, checked over how it meshed with the rest of the formula. It looked like a good spell. He couldn¡¯t see any reason why it wouldn¡¯t work. All he needed to do was try to cast it. As he mentally prepared, he realized that there were people out there who despised spirit magic. It was considered a gray art rather than a dark one but still had a bad reputation. Gray magic wasn¡¯t illegal anywhere, however, and Leonid was getting desperate. He studied the spell until he had it completely memorized, then cleared his mind and began casting. It felt like every other attempt he¡¯d ever made. There was no power there, just the words and gestures. He had to restart the spell twice, because of his growing frustration. He had to force himself to perform the spell perfectly. It was the only way he could know. Finally, on his third try, he managed to get it right. The casting was perfect. It was never going to get better than that. Of course, there were always individual spells specific mages couldn¡¯t cast, and not being able to cast this one didn¡¯t prove that he couldn¡¯t cast any spirit spell. But he knew, deep inside, that it wasn¡¯t going to work. That the power to cast was simply not in him. Leonid sighed and finally sat on the seat he¡¯d vacated so long ago. He dropped his head. Another failure. He had no idea how long he could go on like this. Lost in the pain of failure, he failed to notice the faint hum at first. This was his last chance. If this didn¡¯t work, it would confirm him as spell incompetent. Why was he like this? Why be able to appreciate the beauty of magic in such vivid detail, if you can¡¯t ever cast a spell? What had he ever done to deserve such punishment? The humming had grown louder now, and he looked up. There, in his circle, the air shimmered as if something were forming inside it. Something large from the look of it. Much larger than he had expected it to be. Had something gone wrong with the spell? Wrong with the spell? It had worked. Wrong or right, he had cast a spell that had some effect. He held his breath as the magic coalesced within the circle, first a cloud of magical mist, white tinged with purple, then growing more vivid, the color deepening, the white fading. He stared in triumph, in awe, in trepidation as the cloud grew even bigger, drawing more and more magic into the spell matrix. It took nearly five more minutes for it to form. He wondered later if he¡¯d held his breath for all of it. For there, in the middle of his magical circle, stood a creature. It was half again as tall as he was, purple, like the mist that had formed it. Its huge head seemed to rest directly on its shoulders as if no neck could ever support something so large and unwieldy. Though its mouth was closed, two tusks jutted up from inside its lower lip. Its bloodshot eyes had no pupils, and its nose looked as if it had been mashed flat against that huge head. It had the body of a great ape, covered in purple hair, barrel chested, leaning forward as if the weight of its head wouldn¡¯t let it walk completely erect. When it spoke, its voice was a rasp of malice that made the air around him vibrate. ¡°Summoned, I¡¯ve been, but by you? What are you? Eighth level?¡± ¡°Level 6.¡± ¡°Six! Impossible. You think a sixth level summoner can hold me?¡± ¡°I know I can. Level doesn¡¯t matter. Only the quality of the circle, and I was careful.¡± ¡°Careful? Full of yourself, you are. Quick will be your death.¡± Leonid stood proudly. He knew magic. He knew that the creature could not touch him, though it would try to trick him. He wasn¡¯t going to fall for it. Nor would he back down from a creature he was meant to control. He had to let it know that he was in charge. And he was in charge. Right up until the creature, without even a hint of struggle, stepped from the circle and moved toward him. He felt his heart pounding. He wanted to scream. He knew the spells. He understood the magic. That shouldn¡¯t have been possible. But he was wrong. Somewhere, he had made a mistake. It was all the thoughts he had time for before the creature was on him. A real mage would have had attack spells to strike out at it or defense spells to shield himself. Leonid, by contrast, hadn¡¯t even thought to bring a weapon, which was fine, because he wasn¡¯t any good with them anyway. All his time was spent studying magic¡ªfor all the good it did him. The creature backhanded him with a massive fist, sending him flying. The heavy wooden bookcase that broke his fall, also broke his back¡ªat least it felt like that. He struck the floor hard, face first. A moment later that same bookcase toppled over, landing on top of him, compounding the damage that had already been done. And that damage wasn¡¯t just physical. He felt broken, humiliated, ready to die. He had finally succeeded in casting a spell, and he¡¯d blown it. It was over. He was ready for Se Karn to take him. The experiment that had been his life had ended in failure. He only wished he knew what he¡¯d done wrong. He lay prone, injured, helpless under the weight of the thick wooden structure, and then he heard the creature approaching. It would be nothing for a thing that large to lift the bookcase up and finish him off. He felt pressure as the creature stepped on top of it, but it only lasted a moment. Then the pressure was gone, and he heard it move away. It was loose. In the castle. His family. He could barely move. He couldn¡¯t think. Someone would take it out. The only question was how many would die before that happened. All his fault. As he lay there, letting the pain of his injuries wash over him, he turned his mind to trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He had worked out the spell meticulously. He had drawn the circle perfectly. Everything had been correct, he was sure of it. Unless¡­ An idea formed in his mind, and he couldn¡¯t get rid of it. Perhaps he had made a mistake after all, but he wasn¡¯t the one paying. It was the unsuspecting victims in the castle above, going about their business, not knowing that a demon was on the loose, hunting. All his fault. He couldn¡¯t lift the bookcase, but he could drag himself. Pushing the books out of the way with his hands, he moved with a swimming motion, pushing forward with his legs, clearing away the books with his arms, inching his way toward freedom. His body ached all over. He was having trouble breathing, but he forced himself to continue. He had to free himself to check his work. Please, Iorana, don¡¯t let this be my fault. Inch by inch he worked himself forward. How long had it taken so far? He had no idea. Was that screams he heard in the distance? No. Just his imagination. But whether he heard them or not, it was likely there had been some screams. Move, dammit. Faster. But his body couldn¡¯t go any faster. It took him precious long minutes to finally free himself enough to pull his legs from under the bookcase. As soon as he was free, he tried to stand, but his legs collapsed from under him. He crawled to the chair and used it to pull himself up. He managed to maneuver his body until he was sitting. Another minute. Sweat was pouring into his eyes, and he cleared it with his arm, then cast his gaze around the table, looking for the book with the name. Fortunately, it was close, and he didn¡¯t have to reach for it. He opened the book, looked at the name and it looked right. Then he reached for the place where he¡¯d scribed his spell. When he compared the two names, his breath caught in his throat. They were ever so slightly different. The name drawn inside the circle was not the name of the creature he had summoned. It explained why the circle had not held it. He needed to start again despite his injuries. Still, he had done it once. If he were careful, if he could get it right. Leonid couldn¡¯t prevent the damage the creature was doing, would do in the minutes that followed, but he could try to put an end to it. If only he had access to a healing potion, but the closest one was too far and would take too long to reach. Furthermore, it would put him out there with a demon on the loose. So he forced himself to quiet his mind and recall the spell. Every particular. Every syllable. Every gesture. He wouldn¡¯t be able to use the old circle, it had the wrong name in it. He¡¯d have to draw a whole new one. That would take time and would be devilishly difficult if he couldn¡¯t stand. Think! There had to be a way. Okay, what if he simply inscribed the correct name in the circle, in a different position than the first name. There was no reason a circle couldn¡¯t be made to contain two summons, though he had never read anything confirming that. Still, it might work. The decision made, he took the charcoal he had used to draw the circle, which was sitting on the table in front of him. He also took the scroll on which he had written the spell formula that contained the wrong name. He wondered how likely it was that he¡¯d actually summoned a different demon by chance, or had the name been close enough to attract the demon¡¯s attention, and it had used that power opportunistically to invade Thysandrika. He would probably never know. Then he half lowered, half dropped to the floor. He winced as he struck but the anticipation was worse than the pain that eventuated. So far, so good. Slowly, he inched his way closer to the circle. He had to be very careful not to smear it. In theory, reusing a circle was possible. Some summoners had permanent circles that they used over and over again, after all. And this only needed to work one more time. It took him longer than he would have liked to make it to the summoning circle and then more time still to copy the name inside of it. He checked it carefully this time, forcing himself to slow down and focus to the exclusion of all else. He also checked to make sure he hadn¡¯t smudged the circle. Then he crawled to the wall and sat himself against it. His entire body was on fire, but he had a job to do. He had a spell to cast. It finally hit him at that moment. He had cast a spell. He could do it. Admittedly, it wasn¡¯t the area of magic he was most interested in, but it was magic. He started to think about what else he might be able to do, before chastising himself, and making himself focus on the matter at hand. He had been standing the first time he¡¯d cast the spell, but it shouldn¡¯t matter. He could do the hand gestures sitting down, as they were relatively basic. He just had to be careful to use the name he¡¯d inscribed, instead of the name in the book. He took his time, intoning each word carefully. The only change he made was casting the spell at one level higher, so that if it needed to, it could override the initial spell. He wasn¡¯t sure it was necessary, but why take a chance? It was an easy enough adjustment to make. It didn¡¯t even require him to rewrite the spell. The casting of protu, the first syllable, was the first thing a young mage learned, and he had had much practice after all the time he¡¯d spent attempting to cast spells. He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath and started casting. He ignored the blood on his hands as he made the gesture, the pain in his chest and legs, the fear that had suddenly taken hold of him as he began to wonder if he was too late. No, focus. Concentrate! Slowly, the spell began to form. This time, he could feel the power and knew he had succeeded, possibly because he knew he could, possibly because he was casting it at a higher power level. The purple mist formed as it had before, though perhaps it was a bit denser. He watched it go through the processes of growing, forming, and suddenly, the demon appeared inside the circle. ¡°What!¡± it roared. ¡°We meet again, it seems.¡± This time his voice wasn¡¯t full of confidence. He was exhausted, humbled. The demon glared at him. Leonid was unhappy to see the blood dripping from its mouth and onto its fur. ¡°I¡¯ve escaped this circle once already¡­or did you forget.¡± ¡°I think you¡¯ll find I¡¯ve improved it since your last attempt.¡± The demon sneered and tried to push a clawed hand through the magical barrier. Fire burned where the two touched, and it jerked its hand back. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even know this spell at your level.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°There are a lot of things I shouldn¡¯t know but do. Want to see my favorite?¡± The demon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ¡°We can make a deal, human.¡± ¡°No. We can¡¯t.¡± Leonid began casting a spell he¡¯d never attempted, but it was a spirit spell, and closely related to the one he¡¯d already cast. The demon howled, cursed, threatened, tried to distract him, but Leonid¡¯s mind remained focused. ¡°One day, human, I will end you. You haven¡¯t seen the last of me.¡± Leonid would have liked to answer, but he was busy. He was casting a spell. He made sure to use the incorrect name he had penned on his spell, rather than the one from the book but just as it was about to end, the creature threw his entire body against the barrier surrounding it. Leonid had no idea what it thought it would accomplish, as he had made certain the barrier would hold, and it did. All it accomplished was now, before the demon¡¯s banishment took effect, it had managed to set itself on fire. Then, screaming in pain or frustration, it slowly faded from existence and returned to where it came from. Leonid had cast three spells, and yet he did not feel victorious. He could barely move. He was sure at least some of his bones had been broken. All he could do was lean against the wall and hope someone would come to find him soon. Almost as he thought it, the door opened and his brother Alexi entered. He looked around and as soon as he saw Leonid, ran to him. ¡°Are you all right?¡± Leonid had only enough time to shake his head before finally surrendering consciousness. * When Prince Leonid next opened his eyes, he was lying in his own bed in his own rooms. At first he thought he was alone, but then he noticed his brother Alexi sitting on a chair, reading a book. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but ended up coughing instead. Alexi was on his feet immediately. ¡°Take it easy. It¡¯s okay.¡± Leonid spent several minutes coughing before he was finally able to talk. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°You passed out. You were badly injured, but we managed to get a healing potion into you, and you should be fine if you take it easy for a few days. I¡­ummm¡­cleaned up the library after getting you help. No one has to know.¡± ¡°Has to know what?¡± ¡°The demon was yours, was it not?¡± Alexi stared at him, and everything came rushing back to him. ¡°It was. I made a mistake in the spell and lost control of it. I¡¯m sorry. Did anyone get hurt?¡± Alexi¡¯s mouth tightened into a straight line, and his face grew ashen. ¡°There were a lot of deaths. Are you sure you want to hear about this now?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°We lost seventeen people, and many others were injured. Leo¡­¡± ¡°Tell me.¡± ¡°It got mom.¡± Silence. There was nothing he could say to that. There was no way he could apologize. He had cast his first spell, and it had cost his mother her life. ¡°It was an accident, I swear it.¡± ¡°No one knows that it was yours, Leo. You¡¯re safe.¡± Alexi placed a hand on his arm. ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone, I swear it.¡± ¡°And father?¡± ¡°He thinks it was an attack but doesn¡¯t know who¡¯s behind it.¡± ¡°I have to tell him the truth, Lex.¡± ¡°The hell you do. Do you know what he¡¯ll do to you if he finds out? He might even have you executed. It¡¯s not worth the risk.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s my fault!¡± ¡°You said it was an accident. Anyway, I¡¯ve removed all the evidence.¡± ¡°Why? Why would you do that for me?¡± Alexi sighed. ¡°Because you¡¯re my big brother.¡± Leonid shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s more than that. Out with it.¡± ¡°If something happens to you, I¡¯d be the heir, and I don¡¯t want to be.¡± ¡°Why not? You¡¯d make a great king.¡± ¡°No, Leo, I wouldn¡¯t. If you thought about it, you¡¯d know that. I¡¯m not like you and dad. I can¡¯t handle that kind of pressure. I never could. So I¡¯ll protect your secret, because you¡¯re going to be the next king.¡± ¡°And how do you expect me to live with the guilt of being responsible for my own mother¡¯s death?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have an answer for you. Perhaps you should speak to a priest of Iorana. If it¡¯s answers you want, the temple is your best bet.¡± Leonid nodded. ¡°Thank you. Who else did we lose?¡± ¡°Some of the servants, a few guards, Lord Annick and his son both.¡± ¡°Which one?¡± ¡°The tall skinny one. Can never remember his name.¡± ¡°Leek. I¡¯m really sorry about that, I liked him. We weren¡¯t exactly friends, but he was a good man.¡± ¡°He tried to slow the demon to buy time for the others in his family to get away. It was a good death, Leo.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s something. But it never would have happened if I had been more careful. Lex¡­I don¡¯t know how to live with what I¡¯ve done.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll find a way, Leo. You always find a way. You even found a way to cast a spell.¡± ¡°Yeah, and look at what that got me.¡± Alexi didn¡¯t have an answer, so he sat on the edge of the bed and didn¡¯t say anything. Leonid hurt, not physically but emotionally. He was in too much pain to cry. He had no idea that such a thing was possible. He was numb. Empty. There was nothing left. His mother. Seventeen people¡ªbecause he hadn¡¯t rested before casting his first spell. How would he ever get over this? It would have been better if he¡¯d remained spell incompetent. So many people dead because of his ego. His failure. He did cry then, silently, and all the while Alexi sat with him, not saying a word. Twenty-eighth of Striving 1106 - 36 years ago King Ignatious and Queen Kaer had ruled the Kingdom of Melar for the past thirty years, and during that time, the kingdom had neither prospered nor suffered. History would remember the couple as a safe hand, maintaining what they had without taking risks. They did nothing to antagonize Andara, for example. They made no trade deal with Lorelei, due to their alliance with Xarinos, and they neither attacked any other kingdom nor had to defend themselves against attack. A cynic might suggest that they didn¡¯t have to defend themselves because they had little worth stealing, but the truth was, the king and queen were simply unambitious dull people who managed to accomplish little during their rather long rein. Nothing particularly exciting had happened in Melar, until a demon appeared in the palace and killed a number of people, including the queen. Much changed after this unprovoked attack. King Ignatious, bent on revenge, ordered his people to spare no expense to locate the party behind the attack. The funny thing was, the king hadn¡¯t even liked his wife. They had married to produce heirs and since that time, both rulers had engaged in a string of affairs that, despite their discretion, everyone knew about, but no one mentioned. Leonid thought about them, his parents. They had never understood him. He never really liked his mother, and she had never liked him. That didn¡¯t mean he wanted to see her dead. He simply had no strong feelings for her, one way or another. He felt much the same about his father. He was there, he had sired him, and he¡¯d left the palace staff to raise him. It was a loveless household all around. Only he and Alexi had any sort of emotional relationship. And somehow, that was enough. So Leonid dutifully mourned his mother¡¯s death, but even more, he mourned the fact that the very first time he¡¯d cast a spell, he¡¯d botched it, and a lot of good people had died. A lot of good people and his mother. He bit back the thought as soon as he had it. Why was he angry at her? She hadn¡¯t done anything. But even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. Her death had inconvenienced him emotionally. He hadn¡¯t picked up a book, studied a spell, or even prayed to Iorana since that day. He had loved magic so much, he¡¯d forgotten that it was potentially dangerous. After all, even highly trained mages could, under certain conditions, have a spell backfire on them. And Leonid, for all his knowledge, was not a highly trained mage. He was a pretender. He had cast, by his count, three spells. One to summon a demon, which he botched, one to summon it again, and one to banish it. His dream had come true. He had finally cast a spell, and it would be the last spell he would ever have the honor of casting. He had been a fool. Spells weren¡¯t for people like him. They were for the special people. Adventurers, mages, people who lived lives of adventure and daring. Those are the people who deserved that talent. But he was nothing. Not worthy of being named a mage. He had ruined everything. And that was the crux of his anger. Had he killed a few servants, that would bother him, but he could have lived with it. But he hadn¡¯t only killed servants. He¡¯d killed nobles. He¡¯d killed guards. And he¡¯d killed his mother. He couldn¡¯t return from that, ever. He knew logically, he had no reason to be angry at her for that, but he couldn¡¯t help it. He was angry. He had finally cast a spell, and she had ruined everything. It wasn¡¯t logical. It wasn¡¯t right or fair to her that he should feel this way, but it was how he felt. Leonid did everything a prince in mourning was supposed to do. He had attended his mother¡¯s funeral, he had consoled his father, even though he knew it was unnecessary, and he took on extra responsibilities to ease the king¡¯s burden. He knew he was doing it out of guilt. No one else was going to punish him, so he was punishing himself. Perhaps that¡¯s also why he had walked away from magic. Nothing hurt him more than that. But he knew deep inside that he did not deserve Iorana¡¯s grace. He was in his chambers, when a page knocked on his door to inform him that the High Priest of Iorana awaited his pleasure. The seneschal had led the priest to one of the more private, elegant sitting rooms, as befit his station. Dreading this meeting, but knowing there was no way to avoid it, Prince Leonid made his way downstairs to greet the priest. He might as well get this over with. High Priest Dorean sat in a chair, sipping a glass of wine. He rose and bowed low when Leonid entered, but the prince had no patience for formality today. He noted that the high priest was as thin as ever, practically a wraith beneath his heavy robes of office. Those robes were so large on him, he looked like a child playing dress up with his father¡¯s clothes. The high priest was a bald, clean-shaven man, with sunken cheeks, perfectly aligned yellow teeth, and a nose that was almost a perfect equilateral triangle, down to the pointed tip. Leonid had never seen a nose like that and had to fight hard not to stare at it. ¡°High Priest Dorean, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?¡± ¡°You can¡¯t guess?¡± The high priest¡¯s accent was Andaran. He had spent a lot of time there, and for some reason, Iorana thought stationing him in Melar was a good idea. Leonid had no idea why that was, but he assumed she must have had a reason. ¡°I can guess.¡± ¡°Iorana knows what you¡¯ve done. I know what you¡¯ve done. It is not your fault.¡± This was precisely the wrong thing to say, considering that Leonid had been thinking the exact opposite since it had happened two weeks earlier. ¡°Of course it¡¯s my fault! I botched the spell. There is no one else to blame.¡± ¡°My prince, sometimes there is no one to blame. You were exhausted and made a mistake, true. But everyone makes mistakes. In this particular case, it was costly. And the goddess understands that you want to foot the bill.¡± Leonid didn¡¯t reply. He had nothing to say to that. ¡°Yet, there is a flaw in your reasoning. In order for you to make amends, you must have the power to do so. You can¡¯t possibly do that without magic. There¡¯s nothing else that you¡¯re good at.¡± ¡°If I were good at magic, I wouldn¡¯t have screwed up.¡± ¡°Do you think Arch Mages don¡¯t make mistakes? Do you think the gods don¡¯t make mistakes? Are you the equal of a god?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not even the equal of a man.¡± The high priest shook his head then grew angry. ¡°You have a future as a summoner, and you need to accept that future. There are so few summoners left. Your contribution to this field is extremely important. If you want to pay for what you have done, apply yourself to the work and do better.¡± ¡°High Priest Dorean. You know what would have happened if that thing had killed me, do you not?¡± ¡°Of course, I know.¡± ¡°It would have remained here, on the physical plane, gaining power until something could defeat it. The death toll would have been much higher.¡± ¡°But you survived, figured out what was wrong and banished it. Some would say those actions were heroic. There you were, in pain, injured, exhausted after days of research, but you didn¡¯t give up. You fought through the pain, and the fatigue, and the fear, especially the fear. You figured out what you¡¯d done wrong, you figured out a way to fix it and you saved other people who might have died from a terrible fate. Doesn¡¯t that deserve some consideration?¡± ¡°No. Because others paid the price. Not me.¡± ¡°Hmmm, you feel like you need to pay. And the goddess wishes you to become a summoner. I think we might be able to come to an arrangement.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s take a walk.¡± ¡°To?¡± ¡°The temples.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t change my mind.¡± ¡°I know. I¡¯m a mere servant. I won¡¯t be changing anything. But there are powers greater than me in the world. You may think that your will is a match for theirs, but that¡¯s merely the hubris of youth.¡± ¡°And what of free will?¡± ¡°The gods won¡¯t make you change your mind. They¡¯ll offer you something so tempting, so unexpected, so far beyond your wildest imagination that you will want to bend to their will.¡± ¡°Can you offer me absolution?¡± ¡°As I¡¯ve said, I can¡¯t offer you anything. Let¡¯s see what the gods can come up with.¡± Prince Leonid searched the priest¡¯s eyes, but there was nothing to see there, since he wouldn¡¯t be the one at the bargaining table. * As in most cities, the temple district was located near the palace, so the walk was short. However, instead of heading toward Iorana¡¯s temple, the high priest turned right. ¡°Where are we going?¡± asked Leonid. ¡°We¡¯re going to visit Sarith.¡± ¡°Sarith.¡± Leonid¡¯s feet stopped of their own volition. He¡¯d passed the black temple many times, but like most people, he kept his distance. The curiosity, of course, had always been there, but the fear accompanied it. ¡°Come,¡± said the priest, who had also stopped. ¡°We don¡¯t want to keep the goddess waiting.¡± ¡°We¡¯re not meeting Sarith herself, are we?¡± ¡°Correct. We¡¯re not meeting Sarith. You are.¡± Leonid still hadn¡¯t started up again. ¡°You expect me to meet the goddess of war.¡± ¡°No. She does. I would suggest you don¡¯t disappoint her.¡± Well, that put it into perspective. Leonid started walking again, but he had stopped thinking. No matter what, there was no way he could possibly figure out what the goddess wanted with him, so there was no point wasting time on it. As he walked, he tried to control his breathing. He¡¯d never met a god before and, though it wasn¡¯t his god, it was an honor. He had to remember that. He couldn¡¯t imagine would would become of him if he offended Sarith in her own domain. As the temple drew closer, he could feel the nerves beginning to build. The look of the place terrified him, with its sharp angled towers and the ever-present shadows that seemed to have a life of their own. His body didn¡¯t want to continue, but he forced it forward. The priest, on the other hand, didn¡¯t seem to have a problem, strolling casually, as if this was a place he¡¯d visited every day. ¡°Been here before?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then why aren¡¯t you more scared?¡± ¡°Because I have faith in Iorana. A quality you shared not very long ago.¡± Leonid thought about it, and it was true. He lost his faith the day he¡¯d killed his mother. But he didn¡¯t blame the goddess. He just didn¡¯t feel worthy of her anymore. ¡°Also,¡± said the high priest, ¡°I¡¯m not entering. This is your journey. I¡¯m just an escort. Whatever will be discussed beyond those walls is not meant for my ears.¡± ¡°You want me to go in there alone?¡± ¡°You defeated and banished a demon. Surely you have nothing to fear in a temple.¡± Leonid regarded him skeptically. ¡°Tell me the truth. Will I be safe inside?¡± The high priest chuckled. ¡°As safe as anyone, I would imagine. Probably safer. I think it unlikely that Sarith would directly harm the servant of another god.¡± ¡°And indirectly?¡± The high priest shrugged, bowed and walked back the way they had come, leaving Leonid alone in front of the temple. He could leave now, return to the palace, and carry on with his life, but something drew him onward. Not curiosity, it was more than that. It was the same emotion that had driven him so hard in his study of magic¡ªthe desire to know everything. He had thought it lost forever, but here it was again, driving him forward. The same thing that had pushed him into attempting to create a spirit spell without any training in spirit magic. He walked up to the large, black double doors and pushed one open. Like the outside, the inside of the temple was solid black. Black marble floors, black walls, a black vaulted ceiling and black wall sconces in which burned torches with black flame that somehow shed light. Trying to figure out how, hurt his mind. Then he noticed something else. He was the only person in sight. It wasn¡¯t like any other temple he¡¯d been in. There was no entrance foyer. No common area with seating. There was only a long corridor with doors on either side. He started forward down the corridor and as he drew closer, a door swung open of its own accord. ¡°Not too creepy.¡± Yet he continued forward. He had to know what was happening. Beyond the door was a small room with a single table and a chair on either side. The chair close to him was empty, but an impossibly beautiful woman sat on the other, dressed in a black dress that did very little to hide the lush body beneath it. Her hair was black and fell in loose locks around her shoulders. Her eyes were black as well, completely black, with no hint of white anywhere in them. By contrast her skin was fair, and perfect. Her full lips were vivid red and the smile on her face was predatory. ¡°Prince Leonid, at last, a pleasure.¡± Her voice was silk and steel at the same time. Leonid studied the goddess and liked what he saw. Admittedly, he couldn¡¯t imagine any man not liking it. He wondered if she had chosen that form just for this meeting, but immediately rejected the idea as preposterous. A goddess wouldn¡¯t be trying to impress him. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to address you,¡± he said. ¡°My name is Sarith. Feel free to use it.¡± He licked his lips. His throat seemed impossibly dry. Her physical beauty aside, the power he felt emanating from her made him feel tiny. ¡°You have a problem,¡± she continued. ¡°Iorana sees no value in a mage who refuses to study magic, or to use it. She has little interest in you at the moment. I, however, have some interest. So Iorana and I have come to terms.¡± ¡°Terms?¡± ¡°Yes. She¡¯s willing to trade you for one of mine.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know that was possible.¡± ¡°The gods make deals like this sometimes, probably more often than you think. There is no reason to talk about it publicly, so we don¡¯t. But the truth is, I can use you.¡± ¡°Do I have a say in this matter?¡± ¡°Of course. We can¡¯t make the deal without your consent and the consent of the other. But if you¡¯re truly done with magic, why stay? I can offer you something Iorana can not.¡± ¡°Oh? And that is?¡± ¡°Penance.¡± He stared at her. ¡°What, exactly, are you offering?¡± ¡°A chance to experience power like no one has experienced in hundreds of years. You will be unique in this world. But no gift without a price. No one will know you have this power. It will be a secret you¡¯ll take to the grave, an event that may come sooner than you expect, for this transition is not without its dangers. A great weight will hover over your head. A weight that can drop at any moment. ¡°You would no longer serve Iorana. You would serve me. A secret you must keep from even the high priest. But you will be protected. I will make sure that a Sarithan assassin is assigned to you at all times, to make certain you live. And when the moment comes where you will do Thysandrika the most good, that assassin will claim your life. Your death will offset the evil you have accidentally done. You will die a great hero, and everyone will know it, as long as you keep your secret until then.¡± ¡°What if the other says he doesn¡¯t want to serve Iorana?¡± ¡°I suspect there is little chance of that. When he learns I have no interest in his service, he¡¯ll take any offer he receives. I¡¯m told I can be a harsh mistress.¡± Of that, Leonid had no doubt. ¡°How long do I have to decide?¡± ¡°Are you really going to sit there and pretend you haven¡¯t decided already?¡± ¡°Talking to gods is frustrating,¡± grumbled Leonid. Sarith burst out laughing, and Leonid could not help but laugh with her. It was infectious. He laughed until his lungs hurt, releasing the tension he¡¯d spent two weeks building. When he finally caught his breath, he spoke. ¡°It seems I have little choice.¡± ¡°There are always choices. But I trust you will make the wise decision.¡± ¡°I want to pay for my crime. Iorana will not give that to me, and I¡¯m too weak a man to arrange it myself, so if you can offer me that, and make it mean something, I suppose this is the only deal in town.¡± ¡°Then accept me as your goddess.¡± ¡°Yes, my goddess. I accept you.¡± Sarith¡¯s voice was suddenly inside his mind. You are no longer a servant of Iorana. You have lost the following skills; fluent aldevarian, ancient aldevarian, speed reading, quick research, quick write, memorize, concentrate. You have gained a new yet ancient class, Dark Summoner. You have attained Level 1. You have gained the following skills; Summon lesser spirit, create ritual circle, create light. In the years to come, as you level, you will gain more and more powerful skills, but remember, should anyone I have not approved learn of this, you will forfeit your ability to use all your skills. Is that clear? ¡°Yes, my goddess.¡± Then rejoice. Leave this place and never return. You will continue to make your trips to Iorana¡¯s Temple as always. Only the goddess of magic knows of your change. Everyone else will believe you still worship her. ¡°I¡¯m surprised she agreed to this.¡± She suggested it. She knows how important you will become. He couldn¡¯t help but puff his chest out with pride. Sarith laughed. I can¡¯t even begin to imagine how you¡¯ll suffer knowing that everyone thinks you¡¯re powerless. Chapter 19 - Doing the Work of the Gods ¡°I am meant to understand that I¡¯m doing the work of the gods. If the gods are so powerful, I¡¯m not sure why they need my help.¡± The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 I understand you just fine. Zephyr? Yes. How can you talk to me? It¡¯s an ability called telepathy. It¡¯s one of the first abilities that kindred learn when they¡¯re called. Oh. That sounds useful. It is. Are you okay? Yes. I have a healing potion I can use on you, if you tell me where you hurt. No. Don¡¯t waste it on me. It¡¯s not a waste silly. You¡¯re part of the team. Only because I was in the right place at the wrong time. No one asked me to be part of the team. It just happened. It doesn¡¯t matter. I can ease your pain. Will you let me? Where are the demon sworn now? Chasing me. I put a thought in Scag¡¯s head, and he keeps seeing me. Since he¡¯s the Scout, they¡¯re doing what they always do. Following him. It¡¯ll keep him busy for a while, but it won¡¯t last forever. That¡¯s amazing. Feeling better? Yes, thank you. Then we should hurry. They¡¯ve started moving again. I am fine. Zephyr fed me a healing potion. You shouldn¡¯t have to worry about me. Come to me now, servant of Sheba. It is time for you to go, Chari of Melar. I have ever known your name. That is a story for another time. Chapter 20 - Soul Searching I may or may not have a soul. Does it matter? If I don¡¯t have a soul, what does that imply? Can I call myself a sentient being, or have I only borrowed sentience from my masters? Sometimes I think I have put off asking this question because I¡¯m not sure I want to know the answer. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 Congratulations. You have reached Level 5. New skill unlocked - Motivate. Leading a guild team has increased your ability to motivate those under your command, enhancing your parties abilities dependent upon their existing skills. Congratulations. You have reached Level 6. New skill unlocked - Telepathy. It¡¯s hard to lead if you can¡¯t talk to your people, and silent communication can be useful. Why now? I wasn¡¯t doing anything that should level me. While you were in the dungeon, you were cut off from me. That dungeon didn¡¯t exist in normal space. I couldn¡¯t award you levels, because I didn¡¯t know what you¡¯d been through. Only after you¡¯d emerged, and I processed those memories, was I able to rectify the situation. Two levels is fair, considering how much you¡¯ve learned in a very short time. What do you mean that the dungeon wasn¡¯t in normal space? For a time, you left Thysandrika and traveled to a realm I have no ability to access. That¡¯s all I can say about it for now. The new dungeons weren¡¯t created by any method I understand. They simply appeared, fully formed. I can¡¯t explain it. Something I can do for you? I want to understand. Why is it so important for me to trust you? I have been around for a very long time, Dahr. Longer than you can begin to imagine. I am older than the gods, and for all that time I¡¯ve roamed the Other Realm. The gods have followers. They have individuals they interact with. They interact with each other. I had no one. And for all eternity I had roamed the cosmos. When I first saw you, you were an anomaly. Lying there in Eric¡¯s dream, not yet awake, unclaimed by any god, I saw an opportunity and took it. I didn¡¯t understand mortals back then. Most of what I learned about them I learned from you. You were the first Dahr. The only person I¡¯d ever tethered, and I liked it. Because you were the first, I will always have a special place in my soul for you. So I gave you a gift. The power you have isn¡¯t a mortal power. No god would have given it to you, for gods have rules. But I don¡¯t have those limitations. I gave you the skills I did because I want you to grow and prosper. You will be so powerful, Dahr. You could end up being the most powerful mortal on the planet. What if I don¡¯t want to be powerful? Why would you not want to be powerful? Not that it matters. Right now, it is your power that will be needed to save Eric in the end. The forces arrayed against you are so vast , even with the power I give you, I estimate only a 50% chance of you and Eric both surviving. And I want you to survive Dahr. Without you I am alone. So desperately alone. Will you help me? Be there for me? I can¡¯t afford to lose you, Dahr. One favor then. Tell me your real name. I will, if you promise not to share it. I promise. My name is Telisian, and I am not a god. But I am powerful. I know you are, Teli¡­do you mind if I still call you George? Your name is very long. George is fine. I will be your friend, George, for as long as I live, as long as you don¡¯t betray me, or my other friends. I want you all to survive what is to come. Can you tell me about that? I can not. To tell you would change the future, and becoming part of that loop, I would not be able to see the outcomes, and I could no longer protect you and your friends. You have reached Level 5, new skill unlocked, Thread Reader. So it begins. Chapter 21 - A Visit Home There is no single place I can call home. I couldn¡¯t go back to my owl family, because they wouldn¡¯t understand what I¡¯ve become. I can¡¯t go back to my world, because I have no idea how I might get there. Even the palace at Rish, where I nominally live, I can¡¯t consider my home. Dahr and Prince Eric are all I have, and now that they are beyond my reach, I am homeless. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 Ambassador Rhea, a great honor. You are incorrect, but I understand why you would say so. I have waited for this moment for thousands of years. Your arrival at this place at this time. It has always happened. Will always happen. Your name will live forever in history. Because it is what must be. Not all things come to pass, but your ascension to ambassador was destined. Which doesn¡¯t stop it from being the truth. It is time for you to return home. Just so. I don¡¯t know. It is simply where you have to go. Where you have always gone. Yes. There is. Unfortunately, telling you what that is would change the future, and that cannot be allowed. There was never a bad time. Farewell, Ambassador. May you find what you¡¯re looking for. Chapter 22 - Queen Ravens Accident Third of Harvest 1103 - 39 years ago The study felt lived in¡ªworn chairs that creaked when anyone sat on them, an ink-stained desk that had seen better years decades ago and old bookcases filled with even older books that were in danger of falling apart if anyone tried to open them. On the most solid chair in the room sat a woman dressed in a splendid forest-green gown that perfectly matched the color of her eyes. Her long black hair was done up in a bun, so as not to interfere with her research. Even frowning in concentration, the woman¡¯s face was beautiful. Fair skin, large, intelligent eyes covered by thick lashes, a pert nose that was only slightly upturned, high cheekbones and a pair of full lips that were redder than they should have been even without makeup. She had a voluptuous body as well but never dressed to accentuate it. In fact, Queen Raven never worked to make herself look good and didn¡¯t particularly care about her appearance. Her beauty was a fact of life. It got cold in the winter, dark at night, and Queen Raven was gorgeous. She¡¯d often said she would trade it in for something useful were it an option. Princess Rhea watched her mother work. She was bored, tired, and running out of patience. ¡°What are you doing, mommy?¡± ¡°I¡¯m studying a spell, my love.¡± ¡°What kind of spell?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a spell that makes little girl¡¯s quiet while I¡¯m trying to study. Rhea giggled. ¡°No it¡¯s not.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not? How do you know that? Can you read?¡± ¡°You¡¯re silly.¡± ¡°You know I can¡¯t concentrate if you¡¯re talking to me, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes, mommy.¡± ¡°Then shouldn¡¯t you be silent?¡± Rhea shook her head vigorously. ¡°If I¡¯m quiet, then you won¡¯t have to take me to the kitchen for a snack so I don¡¯t bother you.¡± ¡°Are you hungry, Rhea?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Queen Raven sighed. ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you just say you were hungry?¡± ¡°Because this is more fun.¡± ¡°Enri, would you be so kind as to escort my lovely daughter to the kitchen, so I can get some work done.¡± ¡°Of course, Your Highness. Come along, Princess Rhea.¡± ¡°You still didn¡¯t tell me about the spell.¡± ¡°If you behave, I¡¯ll tell you later.¡± ¡°Okay, mommy. Iorana grant you wisdom.¡± Her mother laughed. As Rhea started to walk away, Queen Raven grabbed her wrist and pulled her around so that they were face to face. ¡°I just want you to know, Rhea, and this is important, that grown ups have many responsibilities. As a queen, I have a responsibility to the kingdom. As a worshiper of Iorana, I have a responsibility to further the study of magic. I take none of those lightly. But with all the responsibilities I have, the most important of all of them is keeping you safe and making sure you¡¯re happy. No matter how much work I have to do, I¡¯m always with you. Always thinking about you. Do you understand?¡± Rhea shifted her weight from foot to foot as if she were impatient to get going. ¡°Yes, mommy. I understand.¡± ¡°Good. You go now, and I¡¯ll tell you a story later.¡± Rhea pumped her fist in the air because she loved her mother¡¯s stories more than anything else. Her mother laughed again. Enri, Queen Raven¡¯s personal servant, held out her hand, and Rhea took it. She skipped along happily, singing a song with no words or at least no words that made any sense. Enri smiled down at her. Rhea thought it must even be boring for her, watching her mother trying to learn a spell. After having a snack, which consisted of a breakfast pastry and a glass of kirn juice, Rhea followed Enri out to the gardens, where she spent time smelling flowers and chasing the first butterflies of the year. She didn¡¯t think much about her mother, or the spell she was trying to learn. She was busy running from place to place, trying to sneak up on others in the garden without them seeing her, and picking a couple of ripe berries from one of the bushes, even though she knew she wasn¡¯t supposed to. After the gardens, Enri took her to the stables to pet the horses. One of the stable hands put her on top of a small pony and led it around for her. Rhea loved pretending she was riding a horse. She thought of all the stories her mother had told her of adventurers and pictured herself riding off to fight a great monster. Just the thought of it made her smile. It was quite a long time before they returned to her mother¡¯s study. Her mother still seemed to be hard at work. Enri let her into the room, and motioned for her to sit down and be quiet. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back, I just need a moment.¡± Rhea knew she had to go to the toilet and wondered why she didn¡¯t say so. She watched her mother, motionless, staring at something on the desk. She moved closer to see what it was. There was an open book in front of her, but her mother seemed to be looking past it, at something Rhea couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Mommy?¡± No answer. ¡°Mommy, what are you staring at?¡± Her mother started as if waking from a dream. Then she turned around and looked at Rhea. ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°Mommy?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not Rhea. Who are you? Who sent you?¡± Her mother grabbed her arm. Rhea had never been handled like that and pulled back in fear. ¡°Mommy, you¡¯re hurting me.¡± ¡°Stop calling me that!¡± Her mother released her, and she felt a great sense of relief, until a moment later, when the back of her mother¡¯s hand smashed into her face. Rhea fell to the floor and looked up. A rage had taken her mother the likes of which she¡¯d never seen. She was terrified. ¡°Mommy?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you are, but you are not my daughter.¡± She took a step toward Rhea. Another. At that moment the door opened. Enri entered and saw the princess on the ground, the queen leaning over, raising a hand as if to strike. ¡°Your Highness!¡± Queen Raven turned to look at her servant and for a moment didn¡¯t recognize her. Then she grew confused. ¡°Mommy?¡± Rhea looked over at her. ¡°Get up. Enri will take you to play. I have work to do.¡± Enri didn¡¯t point out that she had already taken her out. She walked quickly to Rhea, helped her up, and guided her from the room. Behind her Queen Raven turned back to the desk. ¡°Yes, I know that. You don¡¯t have to keep telling me. I think I know my daughter when I see her. Why should I believe you?¡± Then the door closed behind them, and Rhea could hear no more. * It took a while to locate King Lynx as he seldom sat idle in the banquet hall. He was in the yard, practicing archery with the guards. The moment he laid eyes on Rhea, he dropped his bow and trotted over. Already her face had swelled up from the blow she¡¯d received and a bruise had formed. ¡°What happened?¡± Enri looked hesitant. ¡°Out with it.¡± ¡°Queen Raven struck Princess Rhea.¡± The King¡¯s mouth dropped open. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. She was ranting about Rhea not being her daughter and asked who she worked for. When we left, she was talking to herself.¡± ¡°She¡¯s in her study?¡± ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡± ¡°Come.¡± He walked off and motioned for a couple of guards to follow. Enri had to pick up Rhea so she could keep up. When they reached the study, Queen Raven¡¯s voice could clearly be heard, even though the door to the room was closed. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. I know you¡¯re older than me, but it doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re right¡­of course it¡¯s not possible.¡± King Lynx pushed open the door without knocking. Raven was alone in the room, shouting at the air. ¡°Raven?¡± She rounded on him. ¡°Don¡¯t you start. I have enough problems with them¡­it.¡± ¡°Who are you talking to?¡± ¡°You at the moment.¡± ¡°Is anyone else here?¡± She looked around. ¡°Yes. No. I¡¯m not sure. Something is here.¡± ¡°Can you tell me what that is?¡± She looked past him to Rhea, who Enri had placed on the floor beside her. ¡°I see you brought the little spy back.¡± ¡°Spy?¡± asked the king. ¡°Our daughter is grown and married, Lynx. You know this as well as I do. Therefore, this must be an impostor.¡± ¡°Raven, can you tell me what you were doing earlier?¡± ¡°Yes. I was working on a new spell. It¡¯s almost done.¡± ¡°Did you try to cast it?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± She stopped and looked around as if she didn¡¯t know where she was or how she had gotten there. ¡°I remember casting it, and I remember not casting it. So I either did or didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Is it possible the spell misfired when you tried to cast it?¡± ¡°No¡­maybe?¡± ¡°Raven, I want you to listen to me carefully. You are not acting rationally. And you are not acting like yourself.¡± ¡°Oh. Maybe I¡¯m an impostor too. That would explain a lot.¡± She turned to look at an empty corner of the room. ¡°No one asked you. Stay out of it. This is between me and my husband.¡± ¡°Raven, who are you talking to?¡± ¡°I¡­they don¡¯t have a name. Or they won¡¯t tell me their name. Or they aren¡¯t here at all. Or I¡¯m not here. Maybe you¡¯re not here either.¡± ¡°I assure you, I¡¯m here,¡± said the king. ¡°How do you know?¡± ¡°I think this is a conversation for later. Would you mind staying in your room, while we sort out a couple of things. I¡¯ll make sure to have food sent up here.¡± ¡°You can think of food at a time like this?¡± ¡°A time like what?¡± ¡°Never mind, I was thinking of a different time.¡± King Lynx looked concerned. ¡°Stay here. Enri and Rhea will be with me, okay?¡± ¡°Oh, hi Rhea. I didn¡¯t see you there. You go with daddy and be a good little girl, okay?¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Okay, mommy,¡± said Rhea, uncertainly. The king led them out and posted the guards on the door, locking it from the outside. ¡°Enri, go get a priest of Sylinar, a healer and a priest of Iorana. I have no idea what¡¯s going on but that should cover it. I¡¯ll take care of Rhea.¡± Rhea looked up at her father, who made no attempt to hide the concern etched onto his face. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with mommy?¡± ¡°I wish I knew Rhea, but I think, for the time being, it¡¯s better if we give her some space. We¡¯ll see if we can¡¯t figure out what¡¯s wrong when the priests get here.¡± Rhea nodded but stared at the door, until her father led her away. She could feel the pain in her face increase as it continued to swell. She wanted to cry but couldn¡¯t let herself. Her father didn¡¯t like it when she cried. He had told her so. So she held the tears back, even though she knew something was terribly wrong with her mother. She closed her eyes and prayed to Iorana to save the queen from whatever was ailing her. * Eighth of Harvest 1103 Many days had passed before Rhea was allowed to see her mother. They had been hard days. She cried a lot. She didn¡¯t sleep well at night. The palace servants doted on her, and tried to comfort her, but five-year old Rhea was inconsolable. She wanted her mommy and didn¡¯t understand why she wasn¡¯t allowed to see her. Her father, busy running the kingdom and dealing with the queen¡¯s injury, didn¡¯t have much time for her either. She knew something was wrong but couldn¡¯t understand what it was. And no one would tell her anything. People would tell her her mother loved her. People would say that the priests knew what they were doing and that she shouldn¡¯t worry. Or, worst of all, that her mother would be okay. Didn¡¯t that mean she wasn¡¯t okay now? She prayed to all the gods, even Iorana, though she was still mad at her. And finally, she opened her eyes one morning and found her father sitting on her bed. She was awake instantly. ¡°Is mommy okay?¡± ¡°Yes, Rhea, your mother is fine. I¡¯m going to take you to see her today, and I need you to be on your best behavior.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Your mother had an accident.¡± Rhea frowned. ¡°I know that. But what happened to her.¡± ¡°Your mother was attempting to cast a new spell. The spell misfired, and she was injured. She¡¯s okay. She can walk around and talk, but she¡¯s still a little confused and gets upset easily. That¡¯s why I want you to behave. Can you do that for me?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Her father studied her. ¡°Okay. Get dressed and let¡¯s go see mommy.¡± Her father never called her mommy. That as much as anything else made Rhea worried. But she had to be a big girl now. Mommy needed her to behave. Her father had said so. So she dressed as quickly as she could and took her father¡¯s hand. He led her to her parent¡¯s chambers. There were a few people around she didn¡¯t know. They looked like priests of Sylinar. Everyone was talking in whispers. Everyone looked so serious. She allowed her father to lead her through the forest of strangers to the door of her parent¡¯s bedroom, which he opened. He motioned her to go inside. Tentatively, Rhea crossed the threshold. The room wasn¡¯t brightly lit, so at first she couldn¡¯t make out her mother lying on the bed, propped up on pillows. When she could finally see, it looked like her mother was tying a knot into a string. ¡°Raven,¡± said her father. ¡°I¡¯ve brought someone to see you.¡± Queen Raven didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Rhea¡­your daughter.¡± ¡°Mommy?¡± Queen Raven continued to work on the knot. ¡°Hello, Rhea. How are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine mommy. How are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m okay. I just can¡¯t seem to get this knot right.¡± Rhea moved closer to see what her mother was so fascinated by, but it just looked like a normal knot. ¡°I was worried, mommy.¡± ¡°About what, sweetheart?¡± ¡°About you.¡± For a moment, a flash of the old Raven appeared, a gentle smile, a hint of sympathy. Then it was gone. ¡°Why would you worry about me?¡± ¡°Because of the accident.¡± ¡°What accident? What are you talking about?¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s enough for now,¡± said her father, grabbing her shoulder to turn her around before taking her hand. ¡°We¡¯ll see mommy again later.¡± ¡°Bye, mommy!¡± shouted Rhea as her father pulled her from the room. One of the men outside met the king¡¯s eyes, and her father shook his head slightly. Rhea didn¡¯t understand what was going on. ¡°Why was mommy acting so strange?¡± Her father sat down on a seat and pulled her close. ¡°Rhea, your mother¡¯s accident affected her mind. She has what we call soul damage. For a while, maybe a long while, your mother may act differently than you remember. You have to be patient with her. Can you do that?¡± ¡°Okay, Daddy. Can I see her again?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s give it another day. We can see her tomorrow. Your mother needs her rest.¡± ¡°When will she get better?¡± Her father¡¯s face grew sad, and that too scared her. ¡°I don¡¯t know, my girl. I don¡¯t know.¡± He turned his head from her but before he did, she could clearly see the tears forming in his eyes. * The Years 1103-1114 Her mother did not get better. For the next few years, Princess Rhea only saw her mother in the king¡¯s presence and then only briefly. But Queen Raven wasn¡¯t the same woman who had doted on her when she was a little girl. Nothing could replace that for Rhea. She felt as if she had been cast adrift in life, floating on a sea of uncertainty with no way to navigate. Her mother had been her guiding star. The one who gave her direction and purpose. Princess Rhea was passed from servant to servant, tutor to tutor. She learned a lot, but not in the right order and not all the time. Rhea had become an afterthought as her mother¡¯s needs took up so much of everyone¡¯s energy. And truly, Rhea didn¡¯t care about that. She just wanted her mommy back. One year drifted into the next. Rhea grew older and spent more time in her mother¡¯s study than she did anywhere else. She already knew how to read and put her efforts into studying pretty much everything. Everything except magic. After what had happened to her mother, she didn¡¯t trust it. But there were other books in the study. Books on history, geography, mathematics, science¡ªRhea read everything she could. She was particularly interested in books on healing, hoping to find something that might one day restore Queen Raven to what she had once been. A few years later, Rhea started noticing boys. More importantly, boys started noticing her. Rhea started spending less time in the library and more time in the market place, or watching the guards practice. She wasn¡¯t watching alone, either. Her friend Alyson was her constant companion. They did everything together. She was the daughter of a noble, whose father often visited the palace on business and spent some time there. Alyson was outgoing, where Rhea was shy. She was bold, where Rhea was timid. Alyson, her only friend, with her long red hair, large green eyes and a small full mouth that always looked like it was pouting. Alyson had told her she had kissing lips and it¡¯s why the boys liked her. Rhea spent a lot of time looking at her own reflection, trying to make her lips look like Alyson¡¯s. She wanted kissing lips too. But her mouth was too wide, her nose slightly too big (she blamed her father for that), and her eyes felt too far apart. Alyson was so pretty, and Rhea envied her, but at least she finally had someone to share her life with. When her father noticed the girl¡¯s friendship, he invited the noble to move into the palace as his guest, which thrilled Rhea. For once, she didn¡¯t have to be alone. Rhea and Alyson went through the normal travails of youth. Getting drunk together for the first time. Fighting over a boy they both liked. Trying to help each other get the attention of various boys they each liked. In general, Alyson did better with the boys, because no one wanted to earn King Lynx¡¯s wrath. It was a bit annoying, but compared to what had been going on, Rhea was well satisfied with her life. She still dutifully visited her mother each week, but never for long. They never talked about anything important, and often her mother wouldn¡¯t be coherent enough to have a conversation with her at all. Still Rhea sat with her and listened to her fanciful ramblings. After those visits, she would sometimes become depressed. Her mother had soul damage, and that couldn¡¯t always be healed. If the high priest of Sylinar could do nothing, then what could Rhea herself do? She felt useless. As Rhea¡¯s sixteenth birthday approached, she started thinking more and more about which god or goddess she was going to worship. It wasn¡¯t a difficult decision. When she was younger, she had wanted to choose Iorana, but that was out of the question after what had happened to her mother. But her love of reading and learning had brought Mitra to mind as a suitable replacement. She had visited the temple several times, and the priests and priestesses there treated her well. They¡¯d recommend books and even lent her a few. They answered her questions. And there seemed little danger in being a servant of the goddess of lore. When the time came to reveal her choice, everyone had gathered in the banquet hall, including her parents. It was the day of her sixteenth birthday. It was unusual for a child to make a choice so soon, but as she had already decided, there didn¡¯t seem much point in waiting. ¡°Rhea, it is time,¡± said her father. ¡°Do you know which god you wish to serve for the rest of your life?¡± ¡°Yes, father. I wish to serve Mitra.¡± Her father nodded, having expected the answer. Her mother, however, did not. ¡°What! We talked about this. I thought you were going to choose Iorana.¡± ¡°Mother, we talked about this more than ten years ago, when I was five. We haven¡¯t spoken about it since.¡± ¡°Rhea, you¡¯re making a mistake. You have to choose Iorana.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve made my choice, mother. And it¡¯s my choice to make.¡± ¡°Quite right,¡± said her father, though he avoided looking at Queen Raven. ¡°No!¡± Queen Raven fled the banquet hall. Her father, instead of staying with her, followed her mother, leaving Rhea alone. Well, alone with guards and servants. A few minutes later, a priestess of Mitra entered and offered to lead her back to the temple. Rhea decided there was no point waiting for her father to return. She followed the priestess, trying to clear her mind. So much had happened and now this. But it wasn¡¯t the first time she had seen her mother angry. Queen Raven was sick. She knew that. The queen couldn¡¯t be expected to act rationally. Still, it stung. This was supposed to be her transition day, but there had been no one there to see her off. It felt almost as if she didn¡¯t have a family. The trip to the temple, consuming veresh for the first time and the soul journey to the other realm, all went according to plan. Then she had the strangest transition dream she¡¯d ever heard of, at least until she¡¯d heard of Eric¡¯s transition dream and later Chari¡¯s. But her dream was unusual, nonetheless. There were no trials. No tests. Instead she found herself in a comfortable well-furnished den with a roaring fire, a bearskin rug, and two comfortable chairs that floated just off the floor. They seemed to change color each time she looked at them. There were oil lamps lit around the room, and various shelves filled with books. Upon closer inspection she realized that she¡¯d read all of them. That was when Mitra appeared to her. The goddess of lore looked like an ordinary woman. Her chestnut hair reached down past her shoulders, just a bit wavy, and a tad messy as well. Her eyes were brown and kind. She might have been a farmer¡¯s wife. A seamstress. Or a priestess of Mitra. She wore a hooded cloak that any peasant might have worn, and the sandals on her smallish feet seemed ordinary enough. If Rhea were a goddess, she would have made herself look beautiful, like her mother had been. The goddess pointed to a chair, and Rhea took it. Mitra sat in the other. She gestured and an empty rectangular table appeared in front of them. ¡°Are these my trials?¡± ¡°No,¡± said the goddess. ¡°There will be no trials for you. This room is filled with the books you¡¯ve read already. If you weren¡¯t nobility, I¡¯d have touched you anyway, for you are the very embodiment of my will. After all you have been through, and what you¡¯ve done since, what is it you think I need to test?¡± Rhea was startled by this. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°I just wanted to have a chat. To let you know I appreciate you, and I am here for you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure you have better things to do than waste your time talking to me.¡± ¡°You must know a great deal about the comings and goings of the gods to make such a statement. While I am talking to you, I am talking to thousands of others at the same time. I do not waste time, and nothing learned is a waste.¡± ¡°Do you still learn?¡± ¡°Of course I learn. What can be known is infinite. What I know, as great as it is, is finite. The ratio of any quantity, no matter how great it is, when compared to the vastness of infinity, can be rounded to zero percent. For all practical purposes, I know nothing. That¡¯s why learning is so important. Yet whatever I learn, it will remain nothing. There is no ego in learning. There is only learning as its own end. You don¡¯t learn to know everything, because new information comes into existence constantly. But knowing things still helps to prepare yourself for what is to come.¡± ¡°Do you know the future?¡± ¡°No. I see trends and probability, but the future has yet to be written.¡± ¡°My mother says she can see the future. She talks about it all the time.¡± ¡°Do you think she can?¡± Princess Rhea was about to answer but stopped to think about it. Could she really be sure that her mother¡¯s lunacy didn¡¯t have some sort of foundation in fact? ¡°I don¡¯t believe so, but I don¡¯t see how I can possibly know.¡± ¡°How do you think you could find out?¡± ¡°I suppose, I could do an experiment and record what she says, and then compare it against what happens. It would be time consuming.¡± ¡°Tell me about her. Your mother.¡± ¡°Surely you know all about her already.¡± ¡°I know about her, but not necessarily about how she affects you. This is your transition dream, after all, not hers. Also, I can predict the future to some degree.¡± ¡°You can?¡± ¡°Yes. In just about ten seconds, hot chocolate will appear on the table in front of us.¡± Rhea laughed. ¡°I never pictured what talking to a god would be like, but this isn¡¯t it.¡± Mitra¡¯s smile warmed her. ¡°Gods can be like parents in a way. They guide and correct you. They can help you deal with emotional trauma. They can help you get through the hard times in life.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t feel like I have that with my parents. Any of it. Do you feel that way about Sylinar?¡± Mitra smiled. ¡°No, Rhea. Though you call Sylinar the mother of the gods, she¡¯s not my mother in a literal sense. She simply created me. It was an easy analogy for humans to grasp, nothing more than that. Just as I call Iorana my sister, but she isn¡¯t actually my sister. She¡¯s another of Sylinar¡¯s creations, forged in the same way.¡± Rhea thought about the word forged. The image of Sylinar pounding a large hammer into a molten-hot god, on top of some sort of holy anvil almost made her laugh. ¡°Am I really not going to have any trials?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not. You¡¯re going to have hot chocolate with me, and we¡¯re going to have a chat about what you want and expect from life, and where you might go from here.¡± And that¡¯s what happened. Mitra and Rhea spoke for hours, after which Mitra gave her her first skills and her class. Scholar. Rhea was a Level 1 Scholar. It was one of the proudest moments of her life. When she returned to the palace, neither her father nor mother were available. Alyson was out with her family as well. For the first time in a couple of years, Rhea felt alone, but today, of all days, shouldn¡¯t have been like that. This was her mother¡¯s fault. Even though she knew her mother wasn¡¯t to blame, she was hurt that even this special day had to be ruined. She didn¡¯t know what to do, but she had to do something. In this case, that something involved stealing a bottle of wine from her father¡¯s cellar and getting drunk by herself. A guard found her passed out in the wine cellar later that night, and helped her back to her chambers. Her father visited her the next day. She had the worst hangover she¡¯d ever had, and she wasn¡¯t in the mood for the inevitable lecture. She braced herself for it as best she could and hoped to ride it out¡ªbut that lecture never came. ¡°Your mother is very angry, Rhea.¡± ¡°I saw.¡± ¡°I mean very angry. She doesn¡¯t want to have anything to do with you anymore.¡± ¡°What!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You know she¡¯s not well.¡± ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t want to have anything to do with her either.¡± ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s for the best. I was going to put this off, but I don¡¯t see any reason to now. I¡¯ve chosen a suitable husband for you, and you¡¯ll be getting married as soon as we can arrange the wedding.¡± Rhea hadn¡¯t been prepared for that. ¡°What? What are you talking about? Who is it?¡± ¡°Prince Leonid of Melar.¡± ¡°Melar? Really? We can do better than Melar, surely.¡± ¡°Better than Melar is not currently available, and I don¡¯t want to wait. Having you and your mother in the same palace right now is not tenable.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Your mother is threatening to do you bodily harm. She means to kill you.¡± ¡°Kill me? For choosing a god? I thought that was supposed to be my choice.¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°Can I talk to her?¡± ¡°Absolutely not. I forbid it. We only just got her calm. We had to tie her to the bed to prevent her from going after you. You¡¯ll be leaving tomorrow, heading for Melar.¡± ¡°Tomorrow?¡± ¡°Yes, Rhea. It¡¯s for the best, believe me.¡± ¡°But this is my home.¡± ¡°This was your home. You¡¯ll have a new home now.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never even met this Leonid.¡± ¡°He¡¯s smart. He¡¯s aggressive. He¡¯ll make a good husband and father strong children.¡± ¡°But I don¡¯t want to leave.¡± ¡°Then it¡¯s good that you¡¯re not the king. I am. I¡¯ve made up my mind.¡± Rhea had had enough. She leapt the short distance between them and swung her hand to slap her father in the face. He blocked it easily, and she pulled her arm back, the pain already spreading through her wrist. ¡°Rhea¡­don¡¯t. This is hard enough.¡± ¡°For who? For you? Should I feel sympathy?¡± ¡°I understand. You should have servants pack you up and say your goodbyes.¡± ¡°But Alyson isn¡¯t even here.¡± ¡°Write her a note. Because tomorrow morning at first light, you¡¯re out of here.¡± Without another word, her father turned and left the room. Rhea felt trapped. Abandoned. She had felt alone before, but this was much worse. And worst of all, her father had chosen her mother over her. She wanted to scream, and then she did. She yelled at the gods, at fate, and particularly at Iorana, who really was to blame for this whole thing. No one came to see if she was okay. No one even knocked on her door. No one cared enough to see if she was all right. Rage gave way to tears and eventually sleep. She never wrote the note to her best and only friend. She never said goodbye to her father and mother. The next morning, she left Zoloa and didn¡¯t set foot there again until twenty three years later, when the gods and a chirkir had made that decision for her. Chapter 23 - The Undead Wars I have tried to picture the Undead War in my mind, but the size and scope of the event makes it impossible to grasp. Even now, fifteen years later, the fallout from that conflict continues to affect all of Thysandrika. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 Note to self, don¡¯t look too far into the past. Chapter 24 - Literally Gerrick
Sometimes the easiest questions have the most complex answers. Who am I? I don¡¯t know. When I was an owl, I had no real sense of self. I existed to eat, to mate, to survive, but I had no idea why. When I became a were-owl, I was also driven by the need to survive. Because most of my drive was a fight to stay alive, I never needed to worry about who I was. It wasn¡¯t until I arrived on Thysandrika that I¡¯ve had time to consider the matter more carefully, but even here, circumstance has pushed me to react. I should dearly love some time to consider matters like this more deeply. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 Chapter 25 - Trusted Friends ¡¯m not certain that I have any friends. Prince Eric and Prince Dahr are my masters. Chari is a member of my guild, but she is so far above my station, I¡¯m not sure it counts as a friendship. I have my familiars, of course, but I don¡¯t know if I can call them friends. They serve me in the same way I serve my masters. I barely know Sam at all, and I know Zephyr even less. It¡¯s hard to make friends when everyone is part of a different hierarchy. It would probably be easier if I knew where I fit in. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Eighteenth of Learning 1142 The Misfits of Karmenon and Maynor still have a role to play in all that is to come. However, that role doesn¡¯t have anything to do with Striker. A nearby dungeon. Yes. You need to enter the dungeon and clear it completely. Reach the treasure chest in the final room. Inside will be a book. You must bring it to Queen Treya in Rish. Before long, everyone will know where the princes can be found. The name of the book is not important. But the book must be brought to the palace at Rish or King Terrence will fall. King Terrence is precariously balanced between immortality and death. His path forward is treacherous. If he strays from his ordained path even slightly, he will fall. Your belief is not required. Even while you wander the world on a quest you can¡¯t complete, the situation in Twyl has changed. The gods of order have declared war on the Undead King. Forces are being gathered even now. King Terrence has been appointed by the gods of order as High King of all Thysandrika. It is true whether you believe me or not. You will receive confirmation soon enough. But on the offhand chance I¡¯m correct, you should head south to the Horn. You will find what you seek there. Yes. But more, you will find evidence before that that I am speaking the truth. The correct response would be my pleasure, but it would be a lie. It is relief that I feel. I must go now. Farewell, Misfits of Karmenon. Farewell, Maynor of Twyl. Never having parted, I need never say goodbye. And that is what makes you special. Hello, Suzanna. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do you think you¡¯re going mad? Then I would imagine being reassured by a disembodied voice wouldn¡¯t help much. I know it is a lot to take in, but Prince Eric spoke the truth, Suzanna. The gods are real. I am real. You are not hallucinating. This isn¡¯t some mental aberration. You are speaking with a goddess. You¡¯ll have to go a lot further than that to escape my attention. Do you not want to heal people? New skill unlocked, Heal. The road to healing is long and difficult, but you have it in you, Suzanna. Your soul is pure. Will you not accept my gift? Do you think you¡¯re the best judge of that? Are you so sure? Do you know many goddesses? I can read the pain and guilt on your soul as surely as you¡¯re standing in front of me. I know about the daughters that have been taken from you. I know you work hard to send them money, even though you¡¯ll never be allowed to see them. I know why you became a nurse. But most importantly, I know your heart, Suzanna. You¡¯re the first person to give someone a second chance. Will you not accept that you deserve one as well? Sylinar is fine. It is, after all, my name, or at least one of them. Wherever sentient beings exist, there are those who desire to heal. Earth is one of those places. I only had a token presence, until people became aware of my existence through a computer game. An admittedly popular computer game. And people felt strongly about me, about the skills I gave them, and I grew in power. I don¡¯t need to understand how a thing works to know that it does. But the question remains. Do you or do you not wish to be a healer? Then let it be so. New skill unlocked, Heal Wound. New Skill unlocked Dull Pain, New Skill unlocked, Remove condition. You are now a Level 1 Healer. You have long desired the power to fix that which is broken. What will you do with it now that you have it? Not really. I did it. You simply channeled my power. There is no reason to apologize. You have come to the knowledge you have quite late in life. You weren¡¯t raised in a world that believes, but in your heart of hearts, you do want to heal, and I can work with that. It may be a while. Prince Eric, at the moment, has his hands full. Chapter 26 - Out of Nowhere I don¡¯t know much about the Undead King, but what I do know is hard to like. Then again, most of what I know came from people who fought a war with him. I wonder how that¡¯s colored their view, and how much of what they say I can take at face value. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Nineteenth of Learning 1142 had an understanding. That was before the gods declared their support for High King Terrence.¡± Chapter 27 - The Wanderers One day, I¡¯d like to turn my hand to something other than fighting. Perhaps learn a craft. I think I¡¯d like to learn how to paint, but I won¡¯t know until I try. At the moment, I have this book. I can write a lot of it in my head, because my memory is perfect. I wonder if that¡¯s true of all familiars. I can write at any time and transcribe my thoughts to paper when I have the opportunity. I do not believe most writers enjoy this benefit. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Nineteenth of Learning 1142 I¡¯m sure you have many. I don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s a game. Healers level by healing. By caring for others. Your sacrifice for Danny is one of the reasons you¡¯ve earned my tether, but as I said, I know your heart. Games are games and don¡¯t need reasons to be how they are. But in the real world, healers level by healing. You may have to at some point to defend yourself. Killing in self-defense is acceptable, but not if there is another way. However, mostly, a healer would be healing others, and they will be doing the killing. It¡¯s more complicated than you make it out to be. When people fight on Thysandrika, they are often fighting to protect their families, or keep their people safe, but that¡¯s not true of all people, of course. Healers heal, because healing means something to them. It¡¯s like doctors on your world. Will a doctor treat a person who murdered another person, if he was shot in the process? Healing is a way of life for my followers. We don¡¯t judge, we heal. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re joining a team of brigands who don¡¯t care who they hurt. If you were to join an adventuring team, it would be a team that¡¯s trying to protect and defend. That would be a worthy use of your talents. Groups of people with different roles who explore the wild places of the world, and make them safe from monsters. People who protect and guard and sacrifice so that others can be safe. Joining such a team to heal them would be a noble pursuit. That¡¯s probably true, yes. It¡¯s not because the game is popular. It¡¯s because the gods are real. The game gave us more power to tether souls here. It is a possibility but not a big one. I think most gods are aware of what would happen to their followers if people found out. This world is not Thysandrika. The public would not take kindly to people with strange powers worshiping strange gods. It is perhaps for the best that you do everything you can to keep your powers secret. Then do it in a way that makes it look like you¡¯re doing something else. You can trust the chirkir. It spoke truly. The dungeon is where you need to be, at least according to Iorana, who knows more about the current situation than I do. No, Maynor. The gods of order have allied to defend humanity. We are all on the same side. And this is, for better or worse, Iorana¡¯s show. Because she is the goddess of magic, and this matter falls under her jurisdiction. The gods have rules. This has been decided. No god will break the compact, for any reason. Chapter 28 - The Creator
Creativity is important to me, but I¡¯m not sure I have the capacity to create fanciful stories. I feel more comfortable talking about things that have happened than making up things that haven¡¯t. The Book of Lost Wisdom, Kalutu Nineteenth of Learning 1142 Zephyr didn¡¯t speak much as the group walked along, presumably toward the border between Andara and the Kingdom of Melar. She listened as Chari told the story of the dungeon, embellishing some parts while completely omitting others. The princess made no mention of where the dungeon entrance was, or how they had ended up there. She didn¡¯t
eal the fact that it was a reflection of the palace in Rish. But she did describe the final battle with the demon, and how a chirkir that had been waiting in the dungeon had aided their escape. King Leonid walked close to Chari, keeping a wary eye on the Andarans the entire time. Chari seemed more relaxed. Kalutu was never far from her and, like Zephyr, he didn¡¯t speak. The were-owl was happy to let Chari do the talking. Kalutu¡¯s familiars all stayed as close to him as they could, except for Wingman who flew above. Sart, the guardsman who for whatever reason had a strained relationship with Chari walked behind her, head bowed. Zephyr was surrounded by stories she wished to know more about but wouldn¡¯t probe. It was wrong to invade the privacy of other sentient beings without cause, and curiosity was not cause enough. However, if she thought she might be in danger, that would give her justification. Zephyr spent the next hour or so, trying to figure out some way in which she could feel threatened, so she could invade some privacy. Where was a good threat when you needed one? Chari and her father were talking in lower voices now, and she couldn¡¯t hear most of what they were saying. That was when she saw Flapper watching her. He looked away as soon as she noticed, so she made her way to where he shuffled along on the outside of the familiar circle that surrounded Kalutu and spoke to him telepathically. Are you okay? Flapper kept his head down. I¡¯m fine, absolutely fine. There¡¯s no need to worry about me. Even if she hadn¡¯t been the equivalent of a relatively strong mind mage, she would have known that Flapper was anything but fine. You don¡¯t sound fine. I¡¯m still recovering from my injury? You had a healing potion. You¡¯re not going to let me mope, are you? I¡¯m not. You¡¯re no fun. Tell me what the problem is. Everyone here serves a purpose except for me. Kalutu can fight with a sword. Chari can fight as well. Bruce and you can scout. Wingman can fly. Bear is strong and ferocious. Drake can breathe fire, even Obby can hold things, but I can¡¯t do anything. I¡¯m useless. Flapper, listen to me carefully. No one is useless. No one. Do you know, when I was growing up, I felt like the most useless person in the world. I wasn¡¯t good at anything. Really? Really. How did you deal with it? I kept trying the best I could. That¡¯s all anyone can ever ask of you. But what if I never get better. Then at least you can say you tried. Just remember, it won¡¯t happen overnight. It didn¡¯t for me. For a long time, I tried and tried, but nothing happened. Then, when I least expected it, something changed. Flapper stopped walking and looked at her. What do you mean? Zephyr placed a hand on his shoulder. I was meditating one day, and a dangerous animal stalked me. I didn¡¯t even know it was there. Oh my. That¡¯s terrible. What happened? Lady Fury, the woman who raised me, called out a warning and, at that moment, I opened my eyes and saw it. A huge feral beast with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. There was no way I¡¯d be able to defeat it in combat. So what did you do? Without even knowing I had the ability, I turned myself invisible. All the years of not wanting to be seen because I couldn¡¯t do anything gave me my first ability. That¡¯s amazing. You must have been so proud. I think the word you¡¯re looking for is relieved. People expected great things from me, and I didn¡¯t deliver. In a way, you have an advantage over me. I do? Sure. You¡¯re a beaver and that¡¯s all anyone expects you to be. I was supposed to be special. The chosen one. And I didn¡¯t want it. I still don¡¯t. People were walking around them now, while they chatted. Neither of them seemed to notice. But why? Why wouldn¡¯t you want to be special? Because the weight of expectation was more than I could carry. It still is. Secretly, I hope I won¡¯t be called on to do something spectacular, because I¡¯m scared I won¡¯t be able to. Flapper shook his head adamantly. That¡¯s the most ridiculous thing I¡¯ve ever heard. You¡¯re amazing. I¡¯m in complete awe of you. You can do anything, I just know it. That¡¯s very sweet, Flapper, but it¡¯s not true. I have many limitations. You should listen to your own advice. Which is? All you can do is the best you can. No one can expect more from you. I didn¡¯t say that¡­did I? You absolutely did. Zephyr looked thoughtful. Hmmm. That was very clever of you. You really helped me. I did? You did. I bet you¡¯d be good at helping people who have issues they need to deal with. I¡¯ve never thought of that. Maybe you should. I feel much better. Thank you so much. Flapper stood up just a bit straighter and sent her a mental smile. Zephyr smiled back. I¡¯m going to go catch up with the others. Glad I could help. Zephyr watched Flapper waddle off after Kalutu and the other familiars. She smiled. Maybe, just maybe, she was useful after all. * For the rest of the day, the cart moved through what seemed like endless prairie. The grasses, high in most places, might obscure any number of creatures, but the road was broad enough that even if something did emerge from the brush, they¡¯d see it before it got to them. Though the sun shone brightly, it didn¡¯t have the strength of summer, so Dahr hunkered down in the cart to stay warm. Eric seemed to be less sensitive to the cold, because he spent a lot of his time standing and looking around, for what Dahr couldn¡¯t say. The figures on the road ahead of them were visible long before they reached them. Two women and a man, dressed in trousers, shirts and boots, but the women wore darker, more staid colors, while the man was dressed in brighter colors, chiefly blues and yellows. Eldiss drove toward them but stopped a good distance away. He sat on the cart and considered them, while they stood and waited as if they had all the time in the world. Finally, he called out. ¡°Ho there. We request passage to The Fellowship.¡± ¡°We know,¡± said the woman on the left. She had short brown hair, light brown eyes and fair skin. ¡°We know who you are, why you have come, and what you seek.¡± ¡°Then you know more than I do,¡± said Eldiss. ¡°Not really much of a surprise. No one tells me anything.¡± Eric was standing in the cart and to Dahr¡¯s surprise, he spoke. ¡°Are you from the Fellowship?¡± ¡°We are,¡± said the man. He was bald, with very blue eyes and a mouth that seemed perpetually on the verge of a smile that never quite emerged. ¡°I am Quant, and I am to be your guide while you stay with us. Do you have any questions?¡± Dahr made the thread between himself and Quant visible, just to see what it looked like. He prepared to dismiss it immediately if it was overwhelming. Almost as soon as he summoned it, Quant spoke. ¡°Please don¡¯t do that, Prince Dahr. It¡¯s considered rude.¡± All three of his companions looked at him, Eldiss and Aisha curiously and Eric frowning as if he were still a servant and could be told what to do. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Dahr. ¡°It¡¯s a new ability, and I don¡¯t really know how to use it yet. May I? I probably can¡¯t maintain it for more than a couple of minutes anyway.¡± Quant looked to the woman on his right, who still hadn¡¯t introduced herself. She had short, auburn hair, and silver eyes. Her caramel skin was almost perfectly smooth, making her look much younger than Dahr thought she was. Something about her fascinated him, but he couldn¡¯t determine what it was.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. She answered the question with a nod. Quant inclined his head then returned his attention to Dahr. ¡°You may.¡± ¡°What, exactly, are you doing, Dahr?¡± asked Eldiss. Dahr grinned. ¡°Mostly annoying you, I suspect.¡± Eldiss growled, but Eric and Aisha both laughed. Dahr summoned the thread and ran his eye along the length of it. It was like nothing he¡¯d seen so far. Not really much of a surprise, considering how recently he¡¯d gotten the ability to see threads in the first place. It was a single, solid dark gray filament that ran straight without a blemish or a shade, as if nothing had happened to Quant during his entire life. Then he triggered Thread Reader. The original thread that ran from Quant to everyone in the cart had been normal enough, but that same thread seemed to fray and spread as it ran further, fracturing into thousands of individual threads, all distinct and yet all connected, almost as if the same thread had been copied over and over, but no copy was completely identical. They were related, but not the same. Once Dahr had used his new ability however, everything changed. Dahr screamed and closed the thread immediately. The amount of data was painful to consider and impossible to endure. ¡°We¡¯re all connected,¡± said the woman on the right. ¡°At your low level, your mind would break if you tried to see it all.¡± ¡°Striker isn¡¯t here yet,¡± said Dahr. ¡°You can tell that?¡± asked the same woman. ¡°Remarkable. We must find time to talk.¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to be included in that talk,¡± said Eldiss. ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said the woman. ¡°Dahr is¡­special. And he is not your enemy.¡± ¡°I never claimed he was,¡± said Eldiss. ¡°Eric, on the other hand¡­¡± Eric shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not your enemy either. I¡¯m your captive.¡± ¡°I thought we agreed we were companions,¡± said Aisha. ¡°As I am not here of my own free will, I would have to say the term lacks a certain honesty. That said, I¡¯m also not your enemy. I¡¯m happy to see where the days take us.¡± ¡°So many secrets,¡± said Quant. ¡°I think it might be best if we left you to settle your own mess. Our task is to bring you back to the island, where you will be allowed to stay until Striker comes to claim you.¡± ¡°You know Striker then?¡± asked Dahr. ¡°We do not,¡± said the woman, who Dahr now assumed to be their leader. ¡°But we know of her. In some ways, we are not very different from the reborn.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± asked Eric. ¡°We are feared and judged for finding our own way to power, rather than begging the gods for it. We would cause no harm, if harm didn¡¯t continually come looking for us. It¡¯s not hard to see why our alliance exists.¡± ¡°I was surprised to find out about it,¡± said Eric. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d fought in the Undead War.¡± ¡°We didn¡¯t. But the alliance remains. We will fight in the next one, though.¡± Eric didn¡¯t seem to react to the news, but Dahr could feel his emotion through the thread that linked them, even though he wasn¡¯t looking at it. That was new. He wondered what else he didn¡¯t know about the way the threads worked. ¡°If there is a war,¡± said Aisha. ¡°There are other options.¡± The woman on the left shook her head. ¡°No, not really. A great battle is coming. But even we cannot see how it will resolve. It has to do with trying to prophecy your own fate. It¡¯s not impossible, but the very act of doing so can create unforeseen complications for all parties involved.¡± ¡°When do we cross?¡± asked Eldiss. ¡°In the morning. It¡¯s too late to cross tonight. Believe me when I say, you do not want to be out in the water at night.¡± ¡°Why is that?¡± asked Dahr. ¡°Because the mermen will sink your boat and skin you alive.¡± ¡°Merman?¡± asked Dahr. ¡°They really exist?¡± ¡°They do,¡± said Quant. ¡°For a lot longer than humans have.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll camp on the road,¡± said Eldiss. ¡°Would you join us for supper?¡± ¡°No, thank you. We don¡¯t need to eat much, and we¡¯d prefer not to socialize with Dahr present. His powers concern us.¡± ¡°And what powers would those be?¡± asked Eldiss. Quant¡¯s smiled didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure telling you is the kind of thing that would get us in trouble with the gods. We may not worship them, but that doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re in the position where we can piss them off either.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± said Eldiss. ¡°We¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡± The kindred retreated, and Eric seemed to relax. Dahr hadn¡¯t been that tense in the first place, though he couldn¡¯t say why. Perhaps he was instinctively reacting to information he¡¯d received through the threads. He¡¯d have to think on it more. Dinner that night was eaten in silence, but Dahr couldn¡¯t help but notice the furtive glances he was getting from all three of his companions. He couldn¡¯t blame them but found it unnerving nonetheless. The uncomfortable atmosphere led to an early night for all of them. Eric and Dahr slept in the cart, rolled up in blankets that had been in one of the boxes. Aisha and Eldiss didn¡¯t need sleep at all and kept watch. They were somewhere out there in the darkness. The kindred had retreated further back down the road, and Dahr couldn¡¯t see them. It took Dahr a long time to relax enough to close his eyes, due more to excitement than stress, but Eric was out almost as soon as he lay down. Not sleeping, Dahr realized, but on a soul journey. ¡°Wherever you are, whatever you¡¯re doing, be safe, brother. I have a feeling I¡¯m going to need you in the days to come.¡± Eric, of course, couldn¡¯t hear him. His body might have been present, but his soul was off wandering¡ªagain. Dahr wondered what he was doing during these times and looked forward to the day when he could finally ask without two reborn potentially listening to everything they said. * Sixth of October 2023 Suzanna was in the process of dressing Danny when Eric entered his body. She was unaware he was present until he cleared his throat. ¡°Eric?¡± she whispered. ¡°We have to stop meeting like this.¡± Suzanna chuckled but pulled away. Eric smiled up at her. She treated Danny differently than she did him. Not really a surprise, because she knew Danny, whereas Eric was a stranger. He felt a pang when she retreated. There was a distance between them that might never go away. Eric knew her intimately, but she only knew Eric as a voice that came out of Danny. He still didn¡¯t understand how it was possible. ¡°Can we play more Undead Wars?¡± asked Eric. ¡°Not this time. Instead, I have a surprise for you.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°In a very short time, Mrs. Bradsworth will be taking us to meet Nylus, the Undead War¡¯s creator.¡± ¡°What? How did that happen?¡± ¡°She knows him. She put up money so he could make the game.¡± ¡°Put up money?¡± ¡°Games are expensive to produce. They often require investors. People who lend money in the hopes that the game will be good enough to make them money later. The person who made The Undead Wars doesn¡¯t own the game.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t?¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s owned by a company that sells shares, and people invest in it by buying those shares. They each own a piece of the company that owns, not only this game, but other games that the company offers.¡± ¡°That sounds complicated,¡± said Eric. ¡°I guess the question is, is it relevant to our investigation?¡± Suzanna started to reply but stopped short, as if she wasn¡¯t sure how to answer the question. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. At first glance, no. But then, consider this. Of all the games Mrs. Bradsworth might have invested in, The Undead Wars is the one she had chosen. And she¡¯s the mother of a boy who is visited by someone from that very world. So, it might very well be related.¡± Eric nodded, having expected the answer. ¡°We¡¯ll put it to the side for now.¡± Before he could say anything else, Mrs. Bradsworth entered the room. ¡°Are you ready to go? The car is here.¡± ¡°We¡¯re ready,¡± said Suzanna. ¡°Are you excited?¡± ¡°I am. I¡¯ve never met the lead developer of a game before.¡± ¡°Well, he¡¯s a very nice man. And so talented. Go get him into the car, I¡¯ll meet you down there in a few minutes.¡± Suzanna took Danny downstairs, and Eric did his best to act disinterested in the world around him. He wondered if the were any hamburgers in his near future. Not that it was important, but he couldn¡¯t get the flavor out of his mind. Suzanna buckled him in to the back of the car, then walked around the other side and did the same to herself. There wasn¡¯t much conversation during the long ride. Eric had been completely overwhelmed during his first drive. This time, armed with more knowledge, he was able to take some of it in. The sheer number of cars, people, even the traffic lights fascinated him. He didn¡¯t look around, but looking forward gave him enough to see. So many times he wanted to turn his head to get a better look at something, but he resisted the impulse. Eric wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed, but eventually Mrs. Bradsworth looked back at them and spoke. ¡°We should be there soon.¡± Eric was elated. Only yesterday they¡¯d been talking about how someone could create Thysandrika in such detail, and today they were meeting the man who had done it. That was fast. Very fast, which gave him a moment of pause. This chain of events was as unlikely as the rest of it. At first he thought Sheba was behind the series of coincidences that had changed his life so drastically since his first failed transition attempt, but he now saw that it wasn¡¯t enough of an explanation. How had Sheba known that George would touch Dahr? Did they have an arrangement? He didn¡¯t know and hadn¡¯t thought to ask. Even if he had, there¡¯s no guarantee she would tell him. It took a while to find parking when they got there, and then Suzanna got out of the car, released Eric¡¯s seat belt and helped him out. Mrs. Bradsworth was watching them with more intensity than usual, or at least it felt that way to Eric. He wanted to look around but instead kept his gaze focused on the house in front of him. It was a two story affair made of brown stone. It had the numbers 1892 carved into a metal plaque set beneath the center window. There was a small yard, but also a stairway going up to double doors with glass window panes in them. Mrs. Bradsworth walked up the stairs and pushed a button beside the door. Eric heard a chime, presumably alerting those inside the house that someone had come to visit. He waited patiently, as if he had another choice, until the door opened. A man stepped out. He was a large, tanned man with a shock of black hair that ran to the base of his neck. He wore glasses, which Eric had seen before, but not often. Two massive arms emerged from the sleeves of his button down shirt, making him look more like a warrior specializing in strength than a man who spent his days sitting at a computer. His green eyes displayed interest and curiosity. He studied both Suzanna and Danny before turning his attention to Mrs. Bradsworth. ¡°Ida, it¡¯s been too long.¡± ¡°It has. As I said on the phone, I noticed that Suzanna was playing The Undead Wars, and she wanted to meet you, so here we are.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t lie, it¡¯s a busy time, but I¡¯ll always make time for you.¡± ¡°Why so busy?¡± asked Suzanna. ¡°Our newest expansion launched a couple of weeks ago, and there¡¯s bug fixes going out, among other things. Keeping an MMO going is a never-ending process.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± ¡°Come in, all of you. We can talk about the game, and I can answer any questions you might have.¡± Suzanna smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯m going to find everything I learn today fascinating. * When Eric saw Nylus for the first time, Sheba controlled just over thirteen hundred avatars scattered across Thysandrika, each involved in a different activity. The moment Nylus stepped outside, every single one of her avatars froze, as if surprised. She called out telepathically. Io, share my sight. She felt Iorana join her, watching the scene through Danny¡¯s eyes. Iorana only looked for a second before speaking. Sylinar, share our sight. I¡¯m already here. After all these years, we¡¯ve finally found him. Sheba realized that Sylinar was watching from within Suzanna, who she apparently had tethered at some point. I don¡¯t think so, said Iorana. That is definitely Arimen. I know my own mate, daughter. You need to pay more attention to magical signatures. Most think they have no value. But if you alter your perception to include the signature, you will see that this is not the same Arimen. Not the same? Sheba shifted her perception as well and realized the man in front of her had been Arimen at one point but was now not¡ªnot exactly. His magical signature had somehow changed, which shouldn¡¯t be possible. How can this be? asked Sylinar. It can¡¯t, said Sheba. Dear sister, said Iorana. You are presented with evidence right before you, and yet you still refuse to acknowledge reality. Magical signatures can change, because that is Arimen¡¯s body, but it is not Arimen. You are looking at the Undead King. Sheba didn¡¯t respond. She was well aware that Iorana knew more than anyone about not only this situation, but magical signatures as well. So instead, she asked a question. I thought magical signatures had relatively little value. They¡¯re all unique aren¡¯t they? They are not all unique, though the vast majority of them are. All of Sylinar¡¯s children with Arimen share the same signature, which is a combination of Arimen¡¯s and Sylinar¡¯s. We contain aspects of both. For all that you argue with Sarith, you and she are identical on the magical level. Not exactly the best news I¡¯ve had today, but please continue. While I was researching the Undead King, I entered the Plains of Xarinos myself. You did? asked Sylinar. Whatever possessed you to take that risk? We¡¯ll get to that later. When I viewed the creatures that lived there, I realized that every single undead creature, human or otherwise, had an addendum to the end of their magical signature. Their signature hadn¡¯t changed, but an extension had been added. Each of their signatures changed in exactly the same way, as if the Undead King had been signing his work. If that¡¯s the case, said Sylinar, there is a way to positively identify the reborn. Why haven¡¯t you told us? Because it¡¯s not foolproof. While it¡¯s true that every single reborn¡¯s signature ends the same way, they are not the only ones. I¡¯ve found many individuals who bear the same pattern at the end of their magical signature, that not only have no relationship to the Undead King, but didn¡¯t even fight in the war. This is most troubling, said Sylinar. I have much to consider. And she was gone from the conversation. Sheba would have frowned had she been in a body. I have a feeling there is more you¡¯re not telling us. That should go without saying. This entire matter falls under my jurisdiction. You know that. Of course. It¡¯s why I¡¯ve been cooperative. The compact is sacrosanct. None of us would break it, intentionally at least. That may or may not be true. I do believe, however, that you will keep to the letter of the law, if not the spirit. What do you mean? You know what I mean. Because I leveled the young royals so quickly? You should understand why I had to. Is this going to be a problem? Not for me, at least. I can¡¯t speak for any of the others. If they have an issue, let them confront me. I¡¯m more than capable of defending my actions. I have no doubt. And now, it is time for me to go. Look, they¡¯re going inside. You should pay attention. I¡¯m sure what you find will be educational. What is it you¡¯re not telling me? That would be a very long list. Before Sheba could reply, Iorana was gone, leaving the goddess of honor alone with a series of questions she hadn¡¯t possessed a few minutes earlier.