part0017

“No one knows where he’s fled. How are the Chosen of Yarah supposed to apprehend him? We aren’t even certain that Molag planned the attack on the Zaontras’ caravan. Your search is premature.”

Urdan leaned back, looking over the faces of his council members. Since the attack on the caravan, they couldn’t find agreement.

Half the council felt that the perpetrators had been justly punished, wanting to do nothing more. The other half urged assigning most of the guard in pursuit of this disrupter.

Urdan sided more with the latter. However, many Yarahians disagreed. Had the attack been against a Nazilian, it would be different.

“You speak only a partial truth, Sir deGrey,” Urdan said. “One of the guards disclosed Molag’s part in this. He planned the attack on the Zaontras’ caravan. The guards were part of her usual escort, and they contacted Molag’s resistance, verifying their departure. Molag orchestrated the ambush. Of this, there’s no doubt.”

“No doubt?” Hadrian scoffed. “Caretaker, you have the word of but one guard. Mayhaps he spoke what the Zaxson wanted to save his life. The other guards only mentioned their knowledge of Molag, not that he was the mastermind behind their actions.”

“On this, I must agree,” Cha Freydon said, tucking his spotted hands in his sleeves. “Only one of the three implicated Molag Bomgaard. Those odds don’t sit well with me.”

Aronin shook his head. “When the guards thought their attack was successful, they talked much. Molag made many promises, one of which was their freedom. The guards were convinced that once they’d succeeded in killing the Zaxson’s wife and son, Nazilians would flock to their cause. With such support, they thought their freedom assured.”

“That makes little sense,” Sir Finwick said.

“I disagree. Molag has little to promise these men. Even the title he so proudly claims was serendipitous,” Aronin retorted. “Molag isn’t of high birth and has no influence over those who are. Besides the satisfaction of killing the purported savage and her abomination, there’s nothing.”

Aronin met the eyes of each man in the room, before continuing. “Molag has only his words. He hailed these men as heroes, willing to die for the good of their gods and their people. He’s cultivating martyrs to his cause. The perpetrators believed the people of Yarah and Nazil alike would come in defense of them and their actions. He’s dangerous, Sir Finwick. How many Nazilians must die serving his derisible xenophobic desires?”

“Well said,” Urdan was quick to say. “The Zaxson has only asked us to increase our efforts to find Molag. There’s much turmoil in Faélondul, and Yarah isn’t free from it. If what Sir Benoist conveys is truth, there should be no question as to our plans.”

“My father speaks true. Even if you believe Molag is innocent of these allegations, he’s certainly not innocent of plotting against the Zaxson and his family. Countless denizens have reported the disturbing speeches he’s been delivering on the streets of our beloved village. Such talk in the days of the Vereux’ would’ve earned the speaker the removal of their tongue, if not a trip to the headsman,” Jarin said, resting his gaze on Tybalt Maneryn.

Of the council members, Sir Maneryn’s opinion was the most revered. Most of the council members would follow where he led. The elderly Sir Maneryn had yet to voice his thoughts on the matter, and Jarin planned on having him side with his father. Above all else, Sir Maneryn was a man of honor, and he’d thought the same of Manifir Benoist.

“Lord Thaon and Lord Raynes both reported on one such oration that caused a vicious brawl and extensive damage to the Wheelhouse Inn. Whether anyone approbates our Zaxson is extraneous. He’s the leader of Nazil. As such, our respect is demanded.”

“You’d have us dishonor ourselves and apotheosize such a man, Lord Swayne?” Hadrian spat.

“I’d have you offer the proper respect for those who rule over us, just as others respect your position and title,” he said, meeting his stare. After his point had been made, he turned back to Sir Maneryn.

“The integrity of the Benoists is irrefutable. Temian was raised here in Yarah as a brother to me. You know his character as well as that of his father and the Thaons alike. It’s neither obligatory to agree with the Zaxson’s edicts nor approve of those he chooses to serve him. The Zaxson has earned our respect, my lords, and his position demands it.”

“Do you also believe the lies he propagates? The origin of our people?” Cha Freydon asked.

“On this, I cannot comment. I’m not privy to the information at your disposal. The Zaxson merely delivered the documents as his gods demanded. At no time has he asked us to follow his gods, nor has he forbidden the worship of the Four. Your revered position in our temple is confirmation of that.”

“He’d lower us to the status of humans,” Cha Freydon shouted, slamming a hand on the table. The priest wasn’t known for such outbursts, and everyone turned to regard him.

Jarin continued to shake his head, but his father answered. “Cha Freydon, the Zaxson has given us information that was discovered in Nazil’s temple, and detailed histories from his Guardians. They aren’t dissimilar, and the Cha had access to this information from the beginning. The Zaxson only reveals that which they’ve kept hidden from the populace. He hasn’t asked for our belief or disbelief. He merely desired for you, and all of us, to have access to these important documents. I don’t believe that my heritage is that of a human. Albeit, not long ago, I didn’t believe in giants of the mountains, either.”

At this, Cha Freydon relaxed, and calm returned to his countenance. He leaned back in his seat, considering those words. He was one of the few who could decipher some of the Mehlonii language, without the assistance of the codices Beilzen provided. He knew the truth of the Nazilian’s origins, but he wouldn’t admit that knowledge, or acquiesce to requests to make that information known beyond the constraints of the temple.

“Giants of the mountains?” Sir deGrey ended the silence. “These demons came from the cursed wood atop their killing beasts.”

“Name them what you will,” Jarin said. “It isn’t they who disrupt the peace in Faélondul. That’s by the workings of Molag Bomgaard and those of his ilk. We had the opportunity to raise arms against those you now name demons. This council decided to usher in a new peace instead of prolonging a brutal war. The Cha were the first to offer an opinion in that direction, and we heeded the words you spoke so eloquently that day, Cha Freydon.

“Now that peace is being threatened. Not by those you name savages, demons, and abominations, but by those you embrace as brothers.”

“Well said,” Aronin interjected. “The Zaxson has asked us to locate Molag, not to castigate him. We must know what, if anything, he has planned. If he didn’t orchestrate the attack on the Zaontras’ caravan, so be it. He might still have information regarding those who did.”

“Agreed,” Sir Maneryn finally said, drawing attention his way. “I don’t believe finding Molag is an offense. It’s no different from anyone else suspected of committing a crime. He isn’t above the edicts under which we all live. He should be found, and soon, if for nothing more than to clear his name.”

Urdan released a relieved sigh. “So, are we to assign more guards in an effort to apprehend Molag?”

There were murmurs of assent around the table with Cha Freydon offering his agreement last.

“Thank you, honorable council. I believe our business is concluded, and we should convene seven suns hence.”

The council stood, each of them nodding to the Caretaker before filing from the room. When they had gone, Urdan and Jarin retook their seats.

“You did well, my son.” Urdan raised his cup. “This is but one battle, and I’m certain that many more will follow.”

“Why didn’t you inform them about Allister and Nikolina d’Garrion?”

“Do you think they would’ve believed it?”

“Do you think the Zaxson’s report is inaccurate, Father?”

“No. On the contrary, I have a great respect for Pentanimir, as I did his father. Nevertheless, I can’t allow such allegiances to show with the council. They already think me biased where the Benoists are concerned, and Arianna’s marriage to Temian did little to assuage such rumors.”

“I don’t doubt what’s been reported. There have been far too many coincidences and odd occurrences since the Zaontras’ caravan was attacked. If this darkness Pentanimir mentioned does exist, and it affected the d’Garrions, all Faélondul could be in peril. Their Chosen mentioned a specter or apparition protecting the Zaontras. This, I wouldn’t have believed in times past, but you saw the carriage, Jarin, and the charred corpse within. What explanation can you offer for such a miracle?”

“Nor do I, but it did happen, and the Zaontras lives this day. It was Molag’s intent to murder Pentanimir’s wife and son, but the Guardians he serves made it otherwise.”

“You believe in these gods in the Animus Woods?”

“You’ve seen those they name their children for yourself. Do you not recall those same men bringing the Zaxson and others to Yarah ahead of the message we sent?”

“I do, Father.” Jarin nodded, remembering that day clearly. Before word had reached Nazil, the Zaxson arrived in the village on the back of a Desu Beast.

“In any event, Molag must be found,” Urdan said. “It makes little difference to me what gods Pentanimir serves. He’s the son of my dearest friend and a brother to Arianna’s husband. If there are those plotting against him, I’ll see them in the cells.” He paused, meeting his son’s eyes. “Or at the end of a headsman’s ax.”

Pentanimir’s boots clicked as he paced around the conference table. He couldn’t remove the image of Raithym from his mind. Although Angelaris had warned them, no one could’ve perceived anything such as this.

Thoughts swirled through his mind like a cyclone: fierce and unrelenting. Raithym’s transformation continuously plagued both his mind and heart. This was Pentanimir’s greatest fear, and now, it was coming into fruition. Whatever lie ahead for his family would be more than he felt he could endure.

After the AsZar assessed Raithym’s condition, she’d sent for Ahvixx, and then asked for the siblings and their families to await her in the hall.

The minutes appeared hours as they sat in the room, each attempting to keep the angst surging through them not to show outwardly. The mounting tension in the room was just as stifling as the silence.

Pentanimir couldn’t remain still, glancing at Danimore with nearly every step. His brother stared blankly across the room, stifling the myriad emotions cascading through every part of him. Danimore sat rigidly in his seat, but his legs were in constant motion: shaking like a hare clasped in the jaws of a predator.

“They’re coming,” Symeon said, opening the door. The siblings jumped, startled by his sudden emergence.

Danimore raised his head, his eyes widening while staring at the shadows being cast in the corridor. Their steps sounded distorted: each echoing through his mind, while the vibrations from Arinak’s approach caused the floor to tremble.

“AsZar!” Pentanimir said, rushing forward. She upraised a hand, as Arinak bent beneath the lintel, carrying her into the room.

“Do not worry for me, Zaxson,” she said, weakly. “Please, be seated. I have much to convey, and our time grows short.”

“What happened to my son?” Danimore said, suddenly.

Pentanimir rested a hand on his shoulder, feeling his dolor as if it was his own.

“Forgive me,” Danimore said, burying his face in his hands.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Angelaris said. “Much has changed since last we met, and so must we change in order to counter it.”

“More has taken place than I have time to explain. Raithym is only the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“You were warned about the innumerable possibilities, Pentanimir. Choices have been made that altered what is, in order to return to what was. What we believed might occur in years, has come to pass in but seasons. The fracture has widened.”

“Yes.” Angelaris’ expression was forlorn.

“What does this have to do with Raithym?” Danimore asked. “What happened to my son?”

“What has happened was not of the Guardians,” Ahvixx said, stepping into the room.

“Ahvixx?” Pentanimir gasped, staggering back a step.

Ahvixx’s eyes glimmered, their irises forming a triangular shape.

“Yes, it is me. The AsZar has shared her energies with me, transforming my corporal being and infusing me with the Guardians’ essence.”

Thalassa moved to her father’s side, taking Angelaris’ hand. “AsZar…no…you must return to Afferea. Please, father, you must—”

“AsZar, you’ve sacrificed your life energy to strengthen me,” Ahvixx said.

“It was necessary. Your importance is greater than mine.”

“There are none greater than you, AsZar, save the Guardians themselves.”

Ahvixx inclined his head, his eyes emitting an amethyst luminescence.

“Ahvixx’s preparation is complete,” Angelaris said, tracing the raised Guardian emblem on his brow. “This transformation has merged Ahvixx with not only the Guardians, but also the Protectors and their beasts. He is the Ke’ohnzi .”

Angelaris inhaled a staggered breath, struggling through the words. “Even before his birth, I told you about Ayrmeis’ importance. We’d hoped that this wouldn’t happen, but a choice was made contrariwise. Now, we must prepare for what’s to come.

“The Ke’ohnzi is but one element needed to ensure the proper defenses are in place. With the recent movements of the eidolon, expedience is necessary.”

“What about Raithym, AsZar?” Danimore asked. “You haven’t answered that question. Did the Guardians alter my son as well?”

“No,” Angelaris lamented. “My leave of the Animus Wood was precipitated by your son’s transformation. The shift was felt amongst the Seven as the maleficence rippled across Faélondul, corrupting what was once pure. Mah’saahc has suffused another, gaining both power and influence. With this new joining, Mah’saahc has the ability to manipulate the fabric of time. Through that manipulation, she’s altered the very essence of your son’s being.”

“What…How…Why?” Danimore demanded, pounding his fists on the table.

“Raithym is the connection to that which Mah’saahc seeks. Through the blood of Oisin, she’s received a portion of what she coveted—what’s essential for her to effect what is mortal—whilst endeavoring to revive what is not.”

“The blood of Oisin? My son’s been violated! You knew Draizeyn was Raithym’s sire. Couldn’t you have stopped this? The Guardians are supposed to be all powerful. Why would they sit idle while this creature mutilated my son!”

“Dani,” Temian said, lowering him back to his seat. “Don’t do this, please. This isn’t going to help Raithym.”

“I want to know why my son is…is…I want to know why!”

“Choice, Danimore,” Angelaris said. “The Guardians don’t control, they merely guide. All mortals are granted free will, even when a corollary of your choices could have detrimental effects.”

“Choice?” His voice rose in pitch. “You could’ve prevented all of this, but you didn’t.” Danimore’s eyes darted around the room. He pointed a trembling hand, rising again. “You…you protected my nephews, both of them. Why didn’t you do the same for my son? We’ve already lost Godfrey. Have we not suffered enough? Why didn’t you protect Raithym, too? Why?” His voice petered to nothing, ending in a whimper.

“One harrowing concomitant of free will is: having to endure the sorrow when mortals make the wrong choice.” Angelaris took another deep breath, shaking her weariness away. “Mah’saahc’s manipulations might’ve altered your son’s being, but this alteration isn’t mortal.”

“Then what, AsZar? Why?” Danimore pleaded. “What’s happening to my son!”

“Within four seasons, Raithym will have grown at an unnatural rate. His development will be that of a young man, not a child.”

“Impossible, he’s only three-years-old.”

“No. Raithym is now a boy of seven. To him, all is as it should be. He’ll be unaware of the shift or the manner in which it will impact his life. He’ll continue to grow and develop as a child of advanced age. What should be years will be mere seasons.”

Danimore tore at his hair, pulling away from Temian.

“How?” Pentanimir asked, drawing Brahanu closer. He gazed down at Tardison, feeling a pang erupting in his chest as a knot formed in his stomach.

“The shift intensifies as the fracture expands. Raithym is only one affected, but soon, others might succumb to the eidolon’s influence.”

“How can we stop this?” Brahanu asked. She rocked Tardison in her arms, while resting a protective hand on Ayrmeis. “Please, AsZar, what’re we supposed to do?”

“We must prepare,” Angelaris said, producing two phials, that Arinak placed on the table for her.

“The Guardians intend to do the same for Tardison and Ayrmeis?” Ahvixx said, lifting the phials from the table.

“Wait. Wait. My sons? What are you going to do to them?” Pentanimir asked.

“Mah’saahc’s manipulations have accelerated Raithym’s growth,” Ahvixx said, turning toward him. “You realize the implications of this, Zaxson. Tardison’s and Ayrmeis’ growth must be accelerated as well. There’s no other way.”

“No,” Brahanu said, standing from the table. “I won’t allow you to harm my sons. I won’t.”

“No harm will come to them,” Ahvixx assured. “Their growth will be accelerated. Nothing more.”

Brahanu shook her head, backing away. “Pentanimir, no. I won’t permit our sons to have their lives stolen from them. Please. Don’t agree to this. You can’t.”

“What are we to do?” Pentanimir said, defeated. “If not for the Guardians, we wouldn’t have either of our sons. What lies ahead for them is beyond our understanding. You’ve seen Raithym. Our sons must grow with him.”

“Why?” Danimore moved between them. “What haven’t you told me?”

“You know the same truth as I do, Dani,” Pentanimir said. “Our children carry this burden with us. Through them, Faélondul will truly be free.

“We can’t allow this…this wraith to subvert all that we have done and will do. Raithym, Tardison, and Ayrmeis are supposed to aid each other in the years ahead. By accelerating Raithym’s growth, Mah’saahc has not only altered aspects of the present, she’s attempting to manipulate the future and counterpoise what our sons have yet to accomplish.

“I don’t want to do this anymore than you, Dani.” He paused, looking at Brahanu. “Or you, my love, but I can see no other way.”

Brahanu lowered her head, not wanting to accept those truths. She looked down at her son, leaning to kiss the patch of white hair atop his head.

“Neither Tardison nor Ayrmeis will be harmed,” Ahvixx said, handing her the phial. “They must drink all within the container, and when they wake on the morrow, four years will have passed.”

Brahanu met the eyes of everyone in the room before focusing on her husband. “Pentanimir.”

“We must,” was all he said, taking the second phial, and lifting Ayrmeis from his basket. His eyes clenched shut, as he took a shaky breath, forcing the top free with his thumb. Pentanimir parted his son’s lips, slowly emptying the contents inside of his mouth. A small cry followed as Ayrmeis’ bottom lip quivered, turning downward. Pentanimir kissed him then, nestling him into his chest.

“Only by your hands can it begin,” Ahvixx said. When Brahanu raised her eyes to his, a palliative warmth suffused her. The radiance of his eyes was mesmerizing, pulsing rhythmically until they bedimmed, with only his triangular irises slightly aglow.

After he removed the stopper from the phial, Brahanu’s tears intermixed with the elixir as she poured it into Tardison’s mouth.

Angelaris nodded, shifting in Arinak’s arms, struggling to remain conscious. “Ahvixx, these scrolls will aid you in the coming seasons. They’ll provide the insight you need to help not only the children, but all Faélondul.

“Danimore, Raithym’s path cannot be changed, but know that the Guardians will never forsake him.”

Danimore’s head raised up, his voice barely above a whisper. “Pa—path?”

“Each of us has a path, and they’re ours alone to walk,” Angelaris said, motioning to Symeon.

“Ayrmeis will have need of you, warrior of K’ohshul. Even before his birth, you’ve felt a connection with him. That bond will continue to grow, becoming indelible to the both of you. We’ve offered you a glimpse of what might come to pass—what Ayrmeis might soon face. His life is tethered to yours, Symeon. No matter whom he calls father, do not deny what you know in your heart. Do you understand?”

Symeon’s heart raced, but he maintained his composure, tautening his posture. “I understand.”

“Ayrmeis will need your guidance to prepare him. Embrace what he offers and spare none of your knowledge. Not only will the brothers Xaahn aid you, but more importantly, the leopard of the sky will return to Faélondul.”

The siblings exchanged puzzled glances as Symeon merely nodded, ruminating on the magnitude of Angelaris’ statements.

“What about our sons?” Pentanimir asked. “What’s going to happen to them?”

“The Ke’ohnzi will lead where you must follow. Mah’saahc’s corruption will continue to suffuse and devour those of her choosing. If the fracture cannot be sealed, a pall of darkness will cover all the lands.

“The creators of false gods will rise amongst you now that the mage has merged with the disrupter,” Angelaris said, straining through each word.

“AsZar?” Thalassa said.

Arinak cradled Angelaris closer, whispering. “Fedahryelah, k’aun ein’ zan’ner, pahn’taal mehtahne. Fedahryelah ,” [93] Arinak implored. The tears streamed from Thalassa’s eyes, hearing her father’s pleas, and knowing the pain that he felt as Angelaris’ life energies diminished.

With a weak nod, Angelaris relented.

“Your time is at hand, son of Haden,” she said as Arinak rushed through the doors. The citadel floors shook beneath his weight, as he ran down the corridors and back to Xandi. Before the siblings had reached the stairs, the screeches of Desu Beasts reverberated above them as they thundered across the roof, taking to the skies.

“He’s awake,” Hushar said, moving to his bedside, and lifting a cup from the table. “It’s all right, Allister. Here, drink this.”

Allister blinked his eyes open, attempting to focus his blurred vision.

“Where—where am I?”

“You’re in the citadel.”

“How?” He winced.

“When you fell ill, Dalinda called for Arilian, but he couldn’t help either of you. He sent your driver here, and Surma and Micah brought you to the citadel.”

Allister moaned, curling with the passing waves of pain. When he lay still again, Hushar lifted the cup to his lips, helping him to drink the tincture.

Her heart ached for him. Allister had suffered so much, and she feared that he’d be unable to endure what was to come.

“There now,” she said, setting the cup aside and peering beneath the blanket. “There’s still a bit of swelling.” After removing the poultice from between his thighs, she retrieved another one from a shelf and rested it over his manhood.

“Is that better?”

Allister nodded, gazing up woozily. “Nik—Nikolina?” he breathed.

“She’s here, too, but first I need to take care of you. Once you’re better, we’ll talk more about your daughter.”

“Her son? Where’s my grandson?”

“Don’t worry, they’re both here. You need to rest now.”

“Will he recover?” Pentanimir asked.

“He needs rest, but he’s doing much better. I’ll know more on the morrow,” Hushar said.

“Please keep us informed.” Pentanimir’s mind was a muddle after the AsZar’s visit. He was concerned about Allister, but his family’s welfare was in the forefront of his mind.

He’d hoped everything had been a horrible nightmare until he awakened and went to his son’s room. That reality was more debilitating than when they’d discovered Raithym’s transformation. His sons were four years older, speaking and behaving as strangers to him.

Pentanimir couldn’t dismiss the fact that Allister’s actions were the cause of this. He’d empowered Mah’saahc and endangered all Faélondul—endangered his family.

At the same time, Pentanimir blamed himself for allowing Nikolina access to Raithym. Instead of acquiring answers and a means to defeat Mah’saahc, he and his brother’s impolitic decisions had aided the creature.

The AsZar had warned him, but he didn’t comprehend the intricacies of what she’d attempted to convey. How, then, could he castigate Allister for what he’d done without doing the same to himself?

Allister’s call halted him. Pentanimir turned, moving over to the bed. “Hushar will take care of you. For now, just rest, Sir d’Garrion. We’ve posted two guards at your home and we’re searching for whoever attacked you.”

“Attacked?” Allister’s eyes darted back and forth. “No, not who, Zaxson. Not who,” he said, straining to rise.

“Shhh, be calm,” Hushar said, easing him back in the bed.

“Zaxson, it isn’t what you think,” he wheezed. “Not who…not who.”

“What do you mean.”

Allister blinked languidly, taking a deep breath. “The...the isle. Sanctium.”

“What about Sanctium?”

“The witch…there’s a witch on the isle. I—we learned about her from the scrolls. Nikolina thought that she could guide us, to—to help us reclaim our heritage. We didn’t know, Zaxson, we didn’t. The Cha’s writings spoke of her as a divine and virtuous mage, an immortal guiding our steps, and protecting Nazil from harm.” He shook his head, taking a staggered breath. “It wasn’t true. None of it.”

“What happened, Sir d’Garrion?” Pentanimir prodded.

“Lilinth, she called herself Lilinth. We didn’t want to do it, Zaxson. You must believe me. But once we were there, we couldn’t leave. Lilinth took me and—and I didn’t wish it, but she had some control over me, forcing me against my will. I didn’t wish it,” he repeated, trying to force Lilinth’s image and violations from his mind.

“The fault doesn’t lie with you or Nikolina,” Pentanimir said, soothingly. “Please, tell me more about Lilinth.”

“She…she abused the both of us and threatened Nikolina’s babe. We didn’t want to help the witch,” he reiterated, emphatically shaking his head. “Choice was taken from us and we couldn’t continue to resist. The wounds…the…the pain. She inflicted the most horrible pain on us. Nikolina suffered worst of all. Lilinth left us no choice. She would’ve killed us.”

“What did she demand of you?”

“The Nakshij…his son.”

“No, not Ihnat. His elder son. She needed his blood.”

“For what purpose? What is she planning to do with his blood? Please, Allister, try to remember.”

“I don’t know,” Allister admitted. “It was Nikolina, yet it wasn’t. The witch forced a foul liquid down her throat, merging them somehow. Lilinth used my daughter like a puppet, forcing Nikolina to do her bidding.

“It wasn’t Nikolina. It wasn’t. The things she did. The violations that she committed—”

Allister’s voice cracked, his mind assailed by the memories of the night Lilinth had used Nikolina’s form to abuse him.

Thoughts of that night tormented his mind and heart, souring his stomach. He wiped at his mouth, heaving as the sounds, tastes, and brutalizations besieged his very being as if it were yet taking place.

Hushar rushed to the basin as Allister retched, unable to endure the memory.

“It’s all right,” she said, dabbing at his face. “Just be calm.”

He wiped away his tears, steadying his breathing. “Nik—Nikolina was forced to retrieve the blood, and I had to recover the shard, the—the key.”

“The key?” Pentanimir asked.

“Yes. It was buried in the Dessalonian Mountains. She gave me a map where it could be found. When I returned to Sanctium—,” Allister stopped, meeting Pentanimir’s eyes. “I resisted. I tried to leave, but she—it took hold of me, forcing me to her will. She’d always force me. Always,” he said, regaining some composure. “The shard wasn’t whole, and the witch punished both Nikolina and me for my failure.”

“It was but half, Zaxson: a fragment of the whole. I didn’t know, and we suffered for my ignorance. I didn’t know. I just wanted to end the pain and save my daughter. I couldn’t have known.”

“That’s enough for now, Sir d’Garrion. You can’t blame yourself for what you couldn’t control. You’re safe now and need to heal. When your strength returns, we’ll discuss this with the council and hopefully discover a means to countervail whatever this mage has planned. Ahvixx’s knowledge of Sanctium is greater than ours combined. When he returns, he’ll be able to help us.”

“Yes. Ahvixx Ahllendale.”

“Haden’s son,” Allister said.

“I know you have some interest in Ahvixx and his father, but we have more pressing concerns. Once you’re able to give us a detailed accounting of your interactions with this mage, we must formulate some sort of strategy to protect us all. The dangers we’re facing are beyond the mortal.”

Allister nodded, lowering to his bed. “For—forgive me, Zaxson. I’ll do whatever I can to aid you.

“The mage, Lilinth, is merely a sycophant. She said that her master is the one who possesses the true power. Her master despoiled and violated my Nikolina. The darkness, Zaxson. Evil.”

Pentanimir silenced him with an upraised hand. “Rest, Allister. Hushar will remain and tend to you,” he assured, moving to the door. “You’ll be kept safe.”

Allister gripped Hushar’s hand once they were alone.

“You’ve always been kind, Hushar, even when you had no cause.”

“I only returned that which you offered. Even when the Cha sent you in to take me, you wouldn’t. Instead, you sat in my room, keeping them away while I recovered from their mistreatment. I was grateful for your integrity then, just as I am now. You were one of the few Nazilians who treated me like a person and not a slave.”

“You should have never been mistreated that way. None of you. I’m not ashamed to be Nazilian, but I’m ashamed of what we’ve allowed.”

Hushar shook her head, raising his covers. “It wasn’t you. That barbarity has ended, and we must continue forward, avoiding the mistakes and atrocities of the past. First, you must heal, Allister. Just as I must.”

Zeta sat motionless, cradling Ihnat in her arms. When Danimore sat beside her, holding Raithym, she looked down at him, and then slid away.

“Look at him,” Danimore continued. “His features are the same: the curve of his nose, and the hue of his lips. Both are like yours. You’ve seen his birthmark. This is your son. Our son.”

“How?” she asked. “It’s impossible, Dani. How?”

Danimore inhaled a steeling breath, contemplating his response. He’d spoken with his siblings and Nzuri at length after the AsZar’s leave, but it hadn’t been enough.

His attempt to exude placidity was faltering. He didn’t know how to comfort his wife when his mind and heart were in turmoil.

Pentanimir had kept Raithym with them, allowing Zeta time to accept the changes in their son and begin to nurture him again. However, she refused to acknowledge what had happened or even ask about Raithym’s condition. Zeta remained locked in their suite, just as she had when they’d lost Godfrey.

“It was the shift, Zeta. This…this eidolon the AsZar warned Pentanimir about has created some imbalance. The fracture she spoke of has widened, and we’re sensitive to its effects. All our family has some sort of connection beyond our understanding. From what I’m told, it began with our father.” He caressed her cheek. “Raithym isn’t in any danger. I promise. Both Tardison and Ayrmeis are experiencing the same.”

“No, Dani, no. None of this makes any sense. You’d never speak it aloud, but Raithym isn’t your natural son. He shouldn’t be affected by any of this. I want my son back. Why can’t they make him whole again?”

Danimore shook his head, not wanting to reveal Raithym’s parentage. Zeta was tormented enough, and he couldn’t fathom what would happen if she learned that Draizeyn Vereux was Raithym’s sire. Eventually, he’d have to tell her, and he dreaded that truth.

“My seed didn’t cause him to grow, but I’m no less his father. Raithym is a Benoist, just like Ayrmeis. Regardless of their birth fathers, they are part of our line. Our family. The bonds we share transcend their sires. Don’t you understand? This is our son, Zeta. From before his birth until the end of time, Raithym will always be my son.”

“How do we explain this to him?” she said. “He’s supposed to be three, Dani.”

“There will be no need. Neither Raithym nor our nephews will be aware of the rapid changes. Once they’ve matured, I’m certain that will change, but not now. The Guardians have watch over them…and us. Please, don’t be afraid.”

“How can I not? You said this eidolon manipulated our son’s being. How do we know that she won’t try to kill him? If he continues growing at this rate, he’ll soon be an old man.”

“No, only the next three seasons will be met with such changes. Once he’s reached nine and ten, he’ll age normally again. I didn’t understand everything Ahvixx explained, but that is certain.”

Pentanimir stared at his sons, playing together on the floor. Tardison was now a boy of six, and Ayrmeis was four. Of everything they’d faced thus far, he feared this the most. It wasn’t merely the aberrant changes in his sons, but more so what those changes meant for their futures.

He found it difficult to contemplate Faélondul’s fate, when the uncertainty of his sons and nephew continuously plagued his mind.

“What is it? What has happened?” Brahanu asked.

Pentanimir shuddered again, feeling gelid pricks trickling down his spine.

“I don’t know. I just felt some…some…I don’t know,” he said, draping an arm over her shoulder and drawing her nearer. “It could be nothing.”

Brahanu glanced over at her sons and back to him. “Your eyes don’t speak the same. What’s wrong? Is it our children?”

“It was merely a chill, but I’ll speak with Ahvixx when he returns. His connection isn’t only with the Guardians and Protectors, he’s connected with our children as well. He can feel their presence and any shifts that might occur. Everything is so new, Brahanu, and it’ll take more time to become accustomed to such vagaries.” He shook his head. “Ayrmeis is supposed to be younger than Eytan, but now, he’s the older brother.”

“What about Tardison? He’s Eytan’s twin. I was comforted that they would grow together and share that bond. But in a year’s time, Tardison will be eight and ten, a man grown, and nearly the age of his father.”

Pentanimir hadn’t thought of that corollary. Eytan would continue to mature naturally, yet it wouldn’t be the same for his brothers. When Tardison’s age progression ceased, Pentanimir would be merely five and twenty. Tardison would appear more his brother than his son.

“We won’t know until we do,” he said. “Regardless of these changes, they’ll always be brothers. Nothing will ever change this.”

“How are we supposed to conceal this from the populace? Everyone has seen both Tardison and Eytan at your inauguration. They’ll look for him as a boy, not a man.”

“No one will know. How could they? The changes will be gradual over the next three seasons, and neither will leave the safety of the citadel.”

“No one? Look at your son,” she said, motioning toward the three boys. “Tardison is unmistakable.”

“What do you mean? He has my features and eyes, and your beautiful coloring, Brahanu. Many children with a blended heritage are the same.”

“No, I’m not talking about his features. What about his hair? I haven’t seen another child with a streak of white hair.”

Pentanimir looked at Tardison, his only natural son. He remembered when he’d first seen him and running his fingers over that one streak of silvery-white hair atop his head.

“What are we to do? The Guardians blessed him as he is.”

“I’m not questioning the Guardians, I’m afraid for our son. We don’t have enough human sentries to keep our children protected, Pentanimir.”

“We will, I promise you. We’ll reassign our current guards and implement more restrictions until I can conscript more. With only our family, Hushar, Ceron, and Micah tending the nursery, no one else will be aware.”

She nodded, resting her head on his chest. “Tell me that everything will be all right, Pentanimir, and I’ll believe you.”

Inhaling a slow and steady breath, he raised her head to meet his eyes.

“Everything will be all right, my love,” he said with a face devoid of expression. She smiled wistfully, embracing him again.

The cavern wall rippled like soft, ebbing currents, unfurling toward the shore. With each synchronous pulse, the surrounding waterfall’s harmonic expressions increased in intensity, emitting an accompanying luminescence.

With a crescendoing resonance, the cavern’s corrugated surface faded, leaving a shimmering archway in its place. When the glow in its center distended, the Desu Beast screeched, heralding the emergence.

As Déshì crossed the threshold, the glittering archway bedimmed, reshaping into stone.

“Za juahnu k’ahndelae r’ryn shinc,” Natelegé said, urging her mount forward. “Weisheng szretayne baahrean zan’ner ainth.” [94]

Déshì smiled, repositioning the haversack on his shoulder. “Mahn Zla juahne k’ahndelae dyrahnn r’ryn r’shi, Zla dyrahnn mahn hakahra,” [95] he said, patting Utuk’s snout. “Vizu o’ton k’ahndelae tylshara pahn’tah?” [96]

“Miss you? By the way Utuk’s licking your hand, it looks as if he has.”

Déshì laughed, pulling up on Utuk’s back and nestling in behind her. “That’s because at least he appreciates me.” Déshì pulled some dried meat from his sack, tossing it into the air. He immediately gripped Natelegé’s waist, chuckling as Utuk lurched forward, catching his treat.

Natelegé clutched the ridge adoring Utuk’s neck, steadying him again. “Mayhaps I was wrong. It wasn’t you that Utuk missed, it was the treats you always seem to have.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to keep him on my side. I’m hoping to gain his favor.”

“That, you’ve always had,” Natelegé said, spurring Utuk forward. “How was your visit?”

He sighed. “Fulfilling, as you knew it would be. I still have much to learn.”

“As do I. When next you return, I’d like to accompany you.”

His brow creased. “You? For what purpose? I mean, I’d appreciate having you with me, but I wasn’t aware that you had any interest.”

“The interest has always been there, Déshì, and now the need is, too. The Faélondulians aren’t the only ones who must prepare. You know what has awakened with Mah’saahc’s emergence.”

He nodded, considering the dire implications. The fracture in the seal was most likely a presage to something greater…something more powerful.

“We must first secure the seal. All other matters are infinitesimal compared to this.”

“They are…for now, but we mustn’t become complacent.”

“I agree,” he said, shifting on Utuk’s back. “When did Weisheng arrive?”

“Nearly a fortnight past. He was here for three suns before leaving for Kumasi. He said for you to meet him there.”

“He should’ve remained here. Surely, his plans with Arianwen could’ve waited until after my arrival.”

“Mayhaps, but Weisheng has never possessed your…forbearance . You’ve both been gone for over a season, and I doubt that he could contain himself any longer. You might possess the fire, but Weisheng has more of the beast.”

He laughed again, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Forbearance? Is that what you call it? I thought I was offering pleas to the Guardians, begging for it to be.”

She joined in his mirth as they exited the falls, enjoying the peace of Afferea. Although the Animus Wood was beautiful, Afferea was even more so. A melodic hum radiated from the ground, eurythmically entwinning with the falls’ music.

Natelegé inhaled the floral-scented air, relishing the warm sun that peeked through the bower. Feeling Déshì’s arms tighten around her waist, she allowed a kittenish grin to crease her lips, as they passed between some hillocks, fording a shimmering pool.

“Father Ahgelon released you some time ago,” Natelegé said, passing through another fall. “Why didn’t you come to meet me?”

She shook her head, halting in front of a stone-carved dome. Déshì slid from Utuk’s back, reaching out to her.

“The AsZar was expecting you.”

“Of course,” he said, seriously. “Is she well? We were aware of her leave of the Animus Wood. Both Father and I were concerned, but we’ve felt the shifts, and understand the desperation that they’ve caused.”

“And the wielder?”

“Both will be ready.”

Déshì extended out his arm to her, walking toward the gates. “That’s also the reason for my delay. Before coming here, I traversed the Dessalonian threshold to meet Symeon near Nazil.”