“If they’d not have come?—”
“What threatens our world now is not the humans but what we’ve become while hating them.”
She spoke firmly, and I’d be lying if I said part of me wasn’t enthralled by this version of her. Less measured. Perhaps a bit of passion simmered underneath that cool exterior after all?
What I would give to find out…
“The Stone of Mor’Vallis. Whatever legend you were told, there’s more to it than as a relic that intensifies the king’s power. It’s reacting to something old. Something dangerous. I didn’t come here to start a war. I came to stop one.”
The Stone of Mor’Vallis.
That’s why Lyra had come.
The relics had existed long before the Gate was ever opened, before the humans set foot on Elydorian soil. Forged by ancients to temper the raw, wild magic of this realm… A stone that could strip power from the strongest mage, a crystal that stirred the skies and a pearl that spoke to the tides. Only able to be used by the most powerful in each clan.
And yet… something had shifted.
The Stone of Mor’Vallis had grown restless. I’d felt it. Subtle, but pulsing, like a warning in my blood. The land felt different too. Off balance. As if the elements themselves were waiting for something.
I didn’t know what Lyra wanted. Not fully. But as much as I wished to completely discount Lyra’s words, I couldn’t.
“What do you want, precisely, Lyra?”
She looked at me, straight in the eyes, the words she was about to utter likely true if I were any judge of character.
“I want you to take the Stone of Mor’Vallis from your father.”
8
LYRA
His laugh was immediate. Harsh.
Worse, Terran stood, looking down at our finished meal.
“Come. My father grows impatient for the audience you requested.”
“Terran—”
“There’ll be no more talk of the Stone of Mor’Vallis, if you value your life.”
How could I have thought, despite Kael’s warning, Terran could be turned into an ally?
I poured a cup of tea and took two sips, obeying his hastily given order on my own terms. Pushing it away, I plucked the woven cloth from my lap, folded it neatly and stood.
Speaking to him now would not do. But perhaps the very person he tried to protect could unknowingly convince him to speak to me.
Formulating a plan, I followed Terran through the corridors of a surprisingly pleasant wing of the palace I’d never seen. Unlike the cavernous and imposing one which I was accustomed to staying in, Terran’s quarters used the stone surrounding us not to intimidate as a background against a warmth that felt personal, coupled with woven rugs, sun-filtered glass, and the soft scent of cedar.
But there was no time to admire my surroundings. Mind racing, I considered every angle. My goals. Terran’s. The king’s. And refused to be intimidated as we walked into my least favorite throne room of all clans.
King Balthor sat upright, imposing as ever. He was alone, thankfully. His right hand, Lord Valdric, was one of the least favorable to me in all of Elydor. Sharing his king’s hatred of humans but with no other reason behind it than personal gain made Balthor’s prejudices pale in comparison.
There were few in Elydor who could intimidate me.
King Balthor was an exception.
Appearing as if he’d been forged from the very stone that surrounded him, the king’s dark hair and green eyes were the only things he had in common with his sons. His nose was wider, cheeks less defined. Terran and Kael took much of their appearance from their mother, a noble Gyorian woman renowned for her beauty.
