“On to Alvor,” Folami murmured in agreement.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty-One
Ellowyn
Torin’s fingers tightened around mine as we climbed the hill on the southernmost part of the Valley—the same one we stood upon when we first joined the battle.
That moment felt like eons ago, not a little more than a day.
We were quiet together as we hiked, both mulling over words that needed to be said and questions that needed to be answered.
The problem was, our questions were identical, and neither of us possessed the right answers.
After the Bondsmith killed Solace, the last remaining Creation Magic transferred from her to me while Torin absorbed her Air and Water Magic. Between Torin and me, we now possessed all eight Original Magics, and I could feel the power humming beneath my skin. It begged to be released, to return to Meru.
The dichotomy between what happened when I received Kaos’ Destruction versus Solace’s Creation was stark. After the initial bite of discomfort where it felt like my chest was expanding—some part of me growing to accommodate the influx of power that filled my well—there was little pain and certainly no feeling like I was going to die from the magic flowing through my veins.
I had no idea if it was the difference between the two magics or because I had tethered myself to Peytor, but it was shaping up to be one of those mysteries that simply remained.
“He has to be alive,” Torin muttered as we crested the top of the hill, stopping to breathe as we surveyed the aftermath of the battle below. The bodies had been removed, exposing a swath of mud dyed red from the blood of the fallen. Holespockmarked the ground where magic attacks bit into the soil, and any remaining spring grass was trampled flat by thousands of feet.
Eventually, as spring turned to summer, there would be no evidence at all.
Except for the memories that lived on in those who survived.
I hummed, trying to reach for any of my magics, but was disappointed as they evaded my grasp yet again.
“Still nothing?” Torin asked again, squeezing my hand tight while turning his gaze to me. He’d been like this ever since I awoke in Lishahl all those months ago, and I couldn’t say I disliked the attention, even if I sweated under his intense stare.
I was learning that ‘intense’ was the best word to describe Torin; it was in the way he felt, in the way he acted, in the way he protected those he loved.
“No,” I whispered, my words stolen by the sudden breeze that ruffled the budding leaves on the trees and brought with it the scent of honeysuckle and petrichor.
Torin squeezed my hand again, but bit back the words I knew he wanted to say.
It was an argument we kept having the last few hours; despite the evidence to the contrary, Torin refused to believe that Peytor died. More than anything, I wanted my brother to be alive, for him to return to his quad and those who loved him. But our inability to access our magic—magic that our tether helped to ground and funnel—seemed like fairly damning evidence.
Better to be pessimistic and surprised by the outcome than to hope and grieve.
“Hello, Children,” a voice rasped on the wind, causing Torin and me to spin in place.
I could hear Fate, but not see him. Torin’s keen gaze searched the skies and the expansive plains to the south of our hill, but he frowned and pursed his lips when he came up short.
“It’s time you visited your birthright in the flesh, don’t you think?”
My vision blackenedbefore focusing once more, my eyes widening at the familiar cracked ground beneath my boots and the dancing magic in the sky.
It seemed more active today, like the multicolored tendrils were straining to reach down from the heavens and strike us where we stood.
“Welcome to Meru, home of the gods,” Fate intoned, materializing in front of us. He no longer donned the disguise of a man but rather held what I assumed was his true nature. Black billowing robes surrounded his figure, thousands of runes that glowed with an ethereal beauty pulsed slowly throughout. Long, grey-taloned fingers extended from thin hands and slender wrists while his true face was hidden deep within the recesses of his hood.
I tried to peer within to perhaps catch a glimpse of his eyes, but Fate shook his head with a bark of a laugh.
“Curious thing, aren’t you? Some mysteries, Goddess of Death, are better left as secrets.” There was a cautionary bite to his tone, and I stepped back, inclining my head slightly.
“As you wish, Fate.” After the events of the last few years, I had no desire to anger another immortal being.
“Goddess of Death?” Torin asked.
