He catches it, twirling the blade in a practiced arc.
“I didn’t know you knew how to use one of these!” I say.
He raises a brow. “Neither did I.”
My mother’s body jerks between the green crystals. Her lips move, but no sound escapes.
I slam the blade against the stone.
Nothing.
Papa’s sword crashes into the other. It doesn’t crack the surface.
Again and again, we strike.
Still nothing. Last time, it took Nori’s mushrooms to destroy the crystals, but I’m not sure these obelisks are even the same thing. But I had been able to chip them.
They were black before. Farron would know more, but I can’t distract him. Dayton looks weaker by the second, and Fare and Ezryn are barely holding Sira back.
Think!How would Farron view this? All those days spent in the library of Castletree, the research we did together…
The crystals in the chamber above are not the same as these obelisks, but Sira’s using them as a substitute conduit. The words she spoke to the Baron days ago…Tether. Connection.
There’s more here. Therehasto be more I’m not seeing.
Snarling, I drop my briar blade and slam my hand against the obelisk.Sira, I think. Magic flickers beneath the surface, and a single vision appears before me. Sira, younger, hair shorter and cropped in rough waves around her face. She sits cross-legged between these very obelisks, her fingers caressing them as if they’re sacred. Her eyes shimmer, and then—he speaks. The baron. “You’re not alone anymore,” he tells her. And she smiles, tears running down her cheeks.
My throat tightens as the memory fades. The initial price she paid. A moment of her joy. This place, these stones, is where it all began.
This was where she first opened herself to him. These obelisks aren’t just anchors. They’re a door. A promise. A lie she wanted to believe.
“These stones,” I gasp. “They’re how he’s anchored here. This is his connection.”
Papa swings again, grim-faced. “Then we break them.”
I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. “It’s too strong. Sira’s created them with too much magic.”
Keldarion and Caspian dance across the rocky ground, a sight I’m all too familiar with. My husband with his swords of ice, my love wielding shadows and flame.
The form of the Baron flickers into view below the pool, only half-formed, a silhouette rippling and pulsing with growing clarity. He turns toward me, and my blood freezes.
We’re running out of time. He’s drawing magic from my mother’s body. Still shackled between the obelisks, her head lolls. Her light dims. The more she fades, the stronger he grows.
We can’t free her without weakening the obelisks.
But the crystals are too strong. I can feel it in my bones. All the love of the Vale, poured into them for years.
That’s how she’s done it, I realize. It’s not only Sira’s magic. She’s stolen joy from fae and goblins and Elderblood. Heidigog’s bloomies. Aquila’s stars. My wedding. Sira even stole her own happy memory of when she first met the Baron.
She’s captured the most powerful force in all the worlds near and far.
Love.
And now with my mother’s and the Baron’s magic flowing through them, the obelisks have become impenetrable.
I turn, wild-eyed, searching for someone, anyone, to listen.
“They’re fed by joy!” I shout, pushing myself to my feet. “The love of the Vale! We have to break the connection and stop this flow of magic.”
