“You believe you can do better? Do better than me?”
The air around the trees rushes as if blowing in a warning.
Oh, stars, this is dangerous territory.
“I believe?—”
A bolt of energy, powerful, like a storm, flecked with a bright and shining light, races through me, as if the anger I’ve stirred in Aslendrix is now being rained down on me.
I stand before it and bear the power of Aslendrix’s fury. My eyes squeeze shut, and I shield my face from the growing heat, the intensity coming right at me.
Her voice echoes around me as she questions, “If I remove my magic from this land, how will you survive? Who will stand against the coming war?”
“It is coming, then?” I shout to confirm.
“There can only be a fight now. The stage has been set, the pieces in place. My brother has seen to it as best he can, and heintends to win. He’s chosen his champion, but it’s a poor choice, always too eager to look for the win.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Usher will betray Novandia, and everything he says he’s fighting for. That will be his downfall.”
I open my eyes to her force, and as I do, it falls away, and I’m left with nothing but a glowing halo. A beacon. It reminds me of the night in Nehandun, when I stood against Fenix and let the power overrule me.
“The stone.”
“Indeed.”
“You’ve seen this? You know?”
“My daughter knows all. Do you think she wouldn’t prepare?”
“But… Why the Transference stone? Why create it?”
“You all have your talismans to help you channel the magic from me. Well, mine is bigger.”
“But the stone isn’t the source of your power.”
“No, but I need the conduit to gift Kirrians my magic. That is why all the Transference ceremonies have happened here for centuries.”
I blink, and we’re suddenly back on the stone, my feet in the exact same spot they were when I came here months ago.
“It’s a conduit. During the ceremony, fragments of my magic, the essence of the power I bestow, have been absorbed by the stone. Over time, each Kirrian, every Transference has added a tiny drop.”
“That’s what I felt. It was… something dark. Something dangerous.”
“Raw power. A warning.”
“The Usher wants it to overthrow you and Novandia. He’ll use that power. He wants to use it to take your power.”
“Yes. He has been planning his rise for some time. He has worshipped Novandia for years. And Novandia, while contained, is still a God.” I take in her words. “Until you and your brother were pulled in, it could have been left to play out.”
“Play out?” I accuse.
“Do you believe he can accomplish his goal? Win against the Gods?”
I look around the clearing, trying to hold onto the threads of information I’ve pulled loose. “I don’t pretend to know anything anymore, but I can’t risk that he might.” That is what drives me—the fear of where this could lead.
She doesn’t say anything at that.
