“But there was peace—” Elyria protested.
“Peace was an illusion,” Cedric said, and it was as if a chill fell over the entire Sanctum as the words escaped his mouth. “There was much unrest. There was misery and pain.”
“There will always be misery and pain,” Nox said thoughtfully, and while Cedric didn’t disagree, that was hardly the point.
“I cannot say I’m surprised by the inaccuracy of Arcanian accounts of what life was like before the Shattering,” Cedric said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. “After all, it isn’t as though it affected you.”
Elyria pressed her lips into a flat line. The group lapsed into a tense silence. “Regardless,” she finally said, “what does any of this have to do with the Crucible or the Arbiter or Ev—or any stars-damned thing relevant to our present situation?”
Cedric did not miss the way she stopped herself from saying Evander’s name aloud. How she hadn’t said it at all in the time since the Crucible claimed his body.
“I believe we were just about to get to that, weren’t we, Sir Thorne?” said Nox. “You did just bring up the Shattering, after all.”
Cedric grimaced. “Right. So, the humans were unhappy. The realm was technically united. But in reality it was nearly as divided then as it is now. And the celestials, for all their original intentions for a happy, whole, and prosperous Arcanis, turned a blind eye to the suffering of more than half its people. All but one of them.”
“Aurelia,” Elyria whispered.
“Yes. The Guardian of Balance was not blind to the injustices happening in the world, to how distinctlyunbalanced its people had become. And so, she broke her oath. She interfered.”
Elyria’s eyes narrowed. “She sided with you.”
“She wanted to give humanity a leg to stand on,” Cedric shot back, voice insistent. “She granted us knowledge of how to wield the land’s mana.”
“How to leach it, you mean,” Elyria grumbled.
Cedric rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but Nox beat him to it. “Thus, she earned humanity’s devotion. Now, if nature would not bless humans with magic, they would bless themselves.”
“Yes,” said Cedric, nodding. “And it worked. Things became...better, for a time.” He bit the inside of his lip, something akin to shame bubbling up from his gut. “But though Aurelia sought balance, eventually some would—onewould—take advantage of her gift. Would twist it for his own gain. For it was not balance that he sought, but power.”
“Malakar.”
There was something about the way Elyria said the name that made a shiver run down the back of Cedric’s neck. Not reverence. Not fear. A quiet rage; something that felt a little bit like vengeance.
But before he could call it out, her cool mask slipped into place. It was the first time she’d donned it since before the third trial, and something about it made a sudden, bone-chilling cold take Cedric over. Like even the kernel of heat kindling in his own chest was sucked away by her veil of indifference.
Cedric took a breath before continuing. “Yes. A trusted advisor to the king, Malakar could wield mana like no other human. More than a sorcerer, more than a sage, it was like mana filled his very veins. And eventually, he came to wield what did flow through those veins as if itwasmana.”
“Ye speak of blood magic,” Thraigg said, and though he didn’t mean to, Cedric found himself rubbing idly at the spot in the center of his chest where Belien had struck him.
Nox ran an indigo finger along one of their horns, noddingthoughtfully.
“It corrupted him,” Cedric continued. “And soon, even as powerful as he became, as hisfollowersbecame, it wasn’t enough. Most humans resented Arcanians and their innate magic, but none more than Malakar. He considered King Juno a traitor for having married Daephinia. Thought their mixedborn daughter’s existence made a mockery of our suffering. And so, he plotted their fall.”
“And started a war.” Elyria said it matter-of-factly. Emotionless. Her detachment only made shame burn hotter in Cedric’s cheeks. She’d fought in the war. Had killed many in the war. Had become “the Revenant” because of the war.
It was the Revenant who spoke now, Cedric was sure.
He swallowed hard, determined to finish despite the knot forming in his stomach. “Technically, the war came after. Malakar plotted against the crown. He assassinated the king and the young princess. And in her grief, Queen Daephinia’s rage split the realm in three.Thatmarked the beginning of the War of Two Realms.”
“Which you lost.” Again, spoken in that detached, emotionless voice. Nothing haughty or proud about it—it was not a boast.
Cedric almost wished it was.
He forced a laugh in a desperate attempt to pull some of that quickfire wit he felt he knew so well from her. “Well, notme, of course.Ididn’t lose anything. Not even my grandparents would have been alive at this point.”
She blinked at him.
He blinked back.
