“Stronger than all the other races of Aron-Lyr,” Masir said, his voice filled with awe.
“Second thoughts?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He grinned, the same excitement and ambition burning within him that spurred me on. “No. Just realizing we must be very careful. The Council will not like this.”
I took thelyr-stone from his hand, letting its power flare up and cast a dark glow around us. “We will be careful as long as we have to be.” The look in his eyes as I grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip, pressing my forehead against his, was close to reverent. “I promise you, one day the Council will have no choice but to answer to us.”
The next time Masir interrupted me, it wasn’t during training; it was while I was in my forge. Located in the deepest heart of my fortress, it was my refuge, a place where only those I trusted most dared to disturb me. The icy walls and dark surfaces were adorned with dozens of weapons in various stages of completion, the tools of the craft scattered around—hammers, tongs, and an array of various gleaming ores and glittering gemstones. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal and the faint hum of magic. I had not given up on finding a way to better harness the power of the Other.
My eyes fell on a largelyr-stone set in the middle of a ring of dark iron. With the help of M’tar’s former master of the forge, I had come closer to my goal than ever before. Today, however, I was occupied with a different project—a foolish distraction, really, but one I could not cease before bringing it to completion. Magic pulsed between my hands as I shaped a small flower, the energy gleaming on the rubies and emeralds on my workspace. Earth and Fire had always come easily to me, almost as easily as my power over Darkness. But this piece defied my will, never as perfect as I envisioned it, as I remembered it.
The setting of the stones was too crude. I set my work down with a vicious curse, quickly hiding it and turning to face the Anima with a gruff grunt. The alarmed look on his face made me pause.
“Your brother,” he gasped, his usual calm demeanor shaken. “The king. He is here.”
For a moment, I could only stare at him in incomprehension. The fire in the forge flared as panic coursed through me. “My brother is here?” I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper. I had far too many secrets. “Where?” I snapped at Masir, already moving toward the door.
“I left him at the gate. I thought it best, considering…”
Considering Aramaz would surely detect the presence of Chaos magic the moment he stepped into my stronghold. The threads woven around the gate alone were likely enough to condemn me in his eyes.
“You did well. Prepare something to drink in the great hall,” I instructed Masir while we hurried down the dimly lit corridors of my fortress. After he had left, I hesitated a moment in front of the gate, taking a deep breath before opening it with a flash of my powers.
The sky was clear, though already dark at this time of year, the moonlight casting a soft, silvery glow on the king’s face and his pristine white tunic. The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, but I usually avoided coming out here on nights like this, as the sight of them stirred too many memories I preferred to keep buried. Unsurprisingly, Aramaz’s gaze was fixed on the pulsing lines of Chaos around the gate, his jaw set in a harsh line.
“So you are using it,” he said instead of a greeting, his tone filled with sorrow rather than anger.
I had told myself I would not explain myself to him and the others. Their judgment meant nothing to me. Yet, faced with my brother’s disappointment, I couldn’t help but step closer, compelled to defend my actions. “Aramaz. Listen…” I hated the pleading in my voice, the weakness it exposed.
His eyes met mine, astonishingly calm given how we had parted ways. “I am,” he said. “Listening.” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “I promised her I would, no matter what I found here.”
Ah. I should have known. Baradaz was far too stubborn to let things rest. She must have persuaded my brother to attempt a reconciliation. The thought was more comforting than it should have been, a flicker of warmth in the coldness that had settled in my chest for centuries.
“I understand that you and the others fear the power of Chaos, seeing only its potential for destruction, not its possibilities,” I said.
“Yet you seem to have found uses for it.” Aramaz gestured to the gate, the lines of Chaos shimmering in the moonlight. “Perhaps you should show me. Convince me I am wrong.”
His offer left me no choice. A strange sense of vulnerability washed over me as I led my brother into the heart of my domain. I wished his opinion didn’t matter to me, but I couldn’t deny that it did.
Aramaz remained silent as we walked through the golden-veined corridors into the great hall. Under the ethereal light of the high arched ceiling, he finally spoke.
“This place is beautiful, brother. You’ve truly made it your home, haven’t you?”
His words warmed me more than I cared to admit.
Masir soon joined us, bringing two tankards and a cask of mead gifted to me by one of the Northern chieftains. He set them down on a nearby table with a bow and poured the mead, the honey-rich scent filling the air. Aramaz waited until the Anima had left, an amused glint in his eyes as he remarked, “Do you have any idea how furious M’tar is that he joined you?”
I couldn’t suppress a smug smile as I took a sip of my mead, enjoying the sweet flavor on my tongue. “Perhaps he should have valued Masir more when he still served him.”
Aramaz took a gulp of his own drink. “Sometimes we only realize what we had after we’ve lost it,” he said, his tone wistful.
After a moment of hesitation, I retrieved one of thelyr-stones and a handful of the ice oats that Masir and I had created, inspired by Fenrik’s example. True to his word, Aramaz listened as I explained how thelyr-stones—and the Chaos magic they contained—hadbenefited the Humans living in the north. I refrained from mentioning the changes to Fenrik himself. While I was willing to test my brother’s newfound readiness to listen, I was no fool. Some things were better kept secret.
“That is fascinating,” Aramaz said, letting a few grains trickle from his hand. “Humans prove to be the most resourceful of all our children.” Before I could comment on how my accidental interference in their creation might not be entirely negative, he continued with a sigh, “But granting themlyr-stones? The Council won’t approve.”
I scoffed. “The Council is far too cautious.” Leaning forward, I gave Aramaz my most innocent smile. “Besides, I’m very careful who I give them to.”
“Why do I doubt that?” He shook his head, but there was no bite in his tone. Tilting his head, he scrutinized me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. “Why did you do it?” he finally asked. “Why did you try to control the power of Chaos? You must have known the risks.”
