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I incline my head. “Bala. My deepest thanks for bringing us here.” When Bala nods, calm as ever, I continue, apprehensive, “Will you and the others be all right?”
“As soon as we mend the rifts the Oteran’s presence has caused. Etzli’s appearance has destabilized pathways all across the realm. I must attend to them immediately or her corruption will infect us even more deeply.
“Thus, it is with deepest regret that I must leave you. Until we meet again.” The god gives me a small, polite bow of farewell.
Just seeing it sends me into a panic. “Wait!” I shout. “You’re still taking us to Irfut, right? We need to get there so we can find my mother’s body as soon as possible.” But Bala is already gone.
I know this because when Myter opens their eyes again, they’re the only one glancing back at me. They nod at my crestfallen expression. “My lord has returned to Maiwuri, but he commands me to tell you that this is a task you must complete on your own.”
“Complete on my own?” I echo, flabbergasted. “I don’t know how to create doors, and even if I did, I don’t have the power.” I hold up my hands, showing Myter the sores. “Pinning Etzli down for just a few moments did this to me.”
“And even if it weren’t for all that,” Belcalis adds, rushing over to Myter, “there’s the small matter of time. We don’t have any.”
“That is not entirely true,” Myter replies. When we stare at them, uncomprehending, they explain: “Time moves differently in the pathways. And being Lord Bala’s godsworn, I can hold or lengthen it as I like. Observe.” They snap their fingers, and suddenly, everything freezes. The wind, the leaves rustling in the trees, the water from the stream—everything just stops.
“Now, that’s a trick!” Li says with an admiring whistle.
But I don’t have the luxury of being amazed. “It’s all well and good that you can hold time here, but what does that have to do with my inability to make doors?” There’s a ring of hysteria in my voice now.
“What are doors but pathways by another name? I can teach you how to make them.” Myter sounds surprisingly certain as they place their helmet on the ground. It slowly sinks down, absorbed by the soil underneath it. “The question is, do you wish to learn?”
I blink. “Do I wish to learn? Of course I do, but I don’t have—”
Myter points to the perfect stillness around us. “Time? In here, you have plenty, for as long as I wish it. I can lengthen the moments into hours—days, if necessary.”
I glance down at my fingertips, at the sores there, then sigh. “I would like to learn, I’d give anything to, but I don’t have enough power anymore. I’d just injure myself.”
“And yet you want to run out into the world with no plan, no foresight.”
“The best-laid plans are the ones ye haven’t discovered yet,” Britta helpfully inserts.
“I assumed we’d create one along the way,” I explain with a sigh.
“Well, now you don’t have to,” Myter says. “I know how you can harness power without injury. I’ll teach you, if you’re willing to learn. All you have to do is say the word.”
I look at them, look at the certainty shining in those green eyes. Then I sigh. I could rush out there, or I could stay here, learn the one skill I’ve been trying to master for months now. “Yes,” I say. “I’d very much like to learn.”
Myter nods. “Then observe closely.” They lift both their hands, then slowly open one palm. As if summoned, a single leaf drops from the tree above them. It stops in midair, its crystalline edges shimmering in the moonlight.
My eyes round. It’s as if an invisible net has caught it. Like the one that caught me when Melanis dropped me when we were on that cliff on Gar Nasim.
Myter keeps their eyes on the leaf, which is still suspended. “In order to create miniature pathways or, as you call them, doors, you must first understand time and space. Both are malleable things, especially to the gods and those who serve them. If you can learn how to manipulate them”—they gesture and the leaf disappears—“you can control any pathway you wish.”
Another gesture and the leaf reappears, this time, above the other palm.
My heart leaps as I watch it shimmering there. “How did you do that?” I’ve seen sleight of hand before, but this isn’t a cheap trick done by a charlatan in a busy marketplace; this is a wonder performed by a being of near-divine stature. I know because I can feel the power they used as little sparks of lightning running up and down my body.
“Make the leaf move?” Myter closes both fists, and the leaf disappears. “It’s up to you to work that out. I’ll do it one more time. Observe.”
“Wait,” I say, hurrying to enter the combat state.
The world fades away as everyone becomes a glowing white shadow being. Their purest essence laid bare. And that includes Myter’s. Strangely, I can finally see it now, despite the armor they’re using. But perhaps that’s because they want me to see it.
I’m starting to realize that Myter is much more powerful than I thought.
“You can proceed now,” I announce, staring at them.
Myter nods, gestures with both hands. The air above their hands suddenly contracts. No, not the air. I squint closer, mouth slackening when I realize there are little pockets of stillness between the thousand shimmering strands of air flowing around me. They’re what contracts and what, once Myter opens their hands, releases.
