“He was brought to the king. But it was Prince Terran himself who commanded the mountain to swallow him.”
Prince Terran. Kael’s stern younger brother, if only by minutes, and a powerful earth-wielder.
My heart sank. If it was any other, I’d have found the culprit myself and ensured his immortal life was ended. But I could not kill Kael’s brother.
“Fortuitous,” I said, all three now watching for my reaction, not even knowing my ties to the young life forsaken.
“I could almost feel pity for him,” Issa said, watching me.
She likely knew what I was thinking. It mattered little that Issa was human and not Aetherian and could not hear my silent whispers. But she knew the path to the Stone of Mor’Vallis went through Terran.
“He will pay,” I promised. “I am assured of it as I am we will retrieve the Stone.”
“I do not doubt it, Lyra,” Issa said. “For I’ve not seen you unsuccessful on a mission yet.”
“This,” I vowed, resolute, “willnotbe my first time.”
3
TERRAN
She stood alone beside the river.
I watched her for no other reason than a young one was such a rare sight to behold. I understood the balance that kept Elydor from overpopulating. Having so few young ones was the price we paid for immortality. This particular cherub belonged to one of my father’s warriors and his partner. When she was born, all of Gyoria rejoiced.
I should have been training, but spotted the young one on my return to the training yard.
Beyond her, Gyoria spread out like a living tapestry of stone and fire. Our beauty wasn’t delicate like Aetheria’s or fluid like Thalassaria. It was carved, earned, and enduring. Towering cliffs rose behind the strongholds which comprised Gyoria’s capital Thaeron. Ironwood trees lined the ravines. The river, fed by ancient springs beneath the mounts, shimmered in the daylight.
“Too rare a sight.”
I heard Dren coming, his step unmistakable. The former scholar turned warrior’s footfalls—courtesy of his partner having been executed many decades ago—were heavier than most.
“Aye,” I agreed. “Her magic is progressing nicely.”
“Indeed?” Dren asked. “It seems to me she’s been attempting to summon riverlilies all morn.”
Also true. But at least she persevered despite her failed attempts.
“Your father’s Council met earlier. I heard you did not attend?”
My father’s Council was nothing more than a collection of Gyorian nobles who agreed with everything he said and did, regardless of the merit of his actions. Over the years, as he became more and more embittered after my mother was killed by a human plague that somehow managed to take hold here in Elydor, even though such diseases did not usually find their way through the Gate, the Council had become a mirror of their king.
“I did not.”
Dren sighed as we stood side by side, watching the young one.
“He will be angry.”
“My father is always angry.”
Dren shifted his weight, his leather jerkin creaking, reinforced with obsidian-scaled plating and char-stained from the forges beneath Thaeron. Like all Gyorian armor, it was built to withstand blade, flame, and the weight of expectation. “Perhaps. But more so recently.”
The young one tried again, and failed.
“First Kael,” I said, trying not to think too hard on my brother. “And the recent unrest, as well as Adren’s defection to Hawthorne… Father has had his share of traitors and spies of late.”
She was becoming frustrated. Willing her not to give up, I watched, belatedly realizing Dren had gone silent.
