“If you are to survive, you must think and make use of your wisdom,” Lady Samira said. She held out her glowing palm. “Have you forgotten who we are? The mages can sense Essence, especially in women. Once they sense your power, however little it may be, theywillcome for you.”
The room fell silent.
Shoes softly scuffed the floor, and clothing rustled as the villagers settled down on the benches again. Everyone watched the councilwoman with rapt attention. Dyna felt a different fear stirred in them, as it did in her. An old fear they had lived by all their lives.
“Yes, danger is coming, but we know it is coming and we are planning for it. Here you are protected and free. Out there,” Lady Samira pointed to the door, “are countless unknown dangers. One we know for sure is lurking. There is only a question of when it will find you.”
The councilwoman wobbled on her legs, her complexion now bone-white.
Dyna took an instinctive step toward the dais. “Grandmother,” she whispered in warning.
“I see it,” Leyla whispered back. They slowly weaved their way through the crowd to the front.
Councilor Lorian reached for Lady Samira’s arm but she shook him off, much too proud for his help.
“Do not be so quick to run in fear,” she continued after shooting him a glare. “The Great Azeran faced worse. He and the mages of old fought for the freedom you have. They bled for the land you cultivate. We owe it to them to fight for this sanctuary.Weare the ones who have brought the Shadow’s curse, andwewill be the ones to finish it.”
The courage of her speech eased the apprehension in the room. Even Wendell released a heavy sigh, and his rigid shoulders slumped. The villagers were still afraid, but the councilwoman’s words offered them hope.
“Have patience and mark my words—The Fourth Shadow Winter will be the last.”
“How so?” Dyna asked before she thought better of it. All eyes fell on her. She swallowed, holding Lady Samira’s intimidating gaze. “How do you plan to stop the Shadow? That has yet to be made clear.”
Lorian smirked. “Were you not listening? We await the Lunar Reeds.”
“You forget where you first learned of them,” Dyna replied sharply without looking away from the councilwoman. “As I have explained to you before, the amulet’s power only rises under the moonlight. It does nothing against the Shadow. It will still hunt on our land as we cower in our homes. Then when the moon is shrouded, you will once again be responsible for more deaths because you refuse to listen, as you refused to listen to my father.”
Lady Samira stumbled back a step, staring at Dyna in dismay. She tried to speak but could only inhale gasping breaths instead. Her eyes rolled and she wavered forward, tumbling off the dais.
The villagers cried out, gathering around the fallen councilwoman. Dyna and her grandmother rushed forward, and a path quickly parted for them.
“Samira?” Grandmother Leyla knelt beside her and gently checked her for injuries then listened to her heart. “Samira, speak to me.”
“Oh, don’t fuss over me, you old woman.” Lady Samira’s eyes weakly fluttered open. Her body splayed on the ground like a worn doll. Dyna felt awful for snapping at her.
“You’re the old woman,” Leyla smiled feebly. “You fell. Are you faint?”
“I’m fine. Age has gotten the better of me is all,” she rasped. The strength she had displayed before faded away into her pallid complexion.
“Always trying to save face,” Leyla grumbled as she turned to Dyna. “I didn’t bring my medicine bag. Examine her while I fetch it.”
Before Dyna could answer, her grandmother rushed out. She gaped after her, shrinking under the critical stares of everyone.
Chapter 3
Dynalya
Once all the fuss had calmed down and the meeting was dismissed, Dyna asked Wendell to carry Lady Samira to the private council room in the back of the town hall building. The councilors were left to wait in the hall as he laid her on a settee.
Wendell’s shoulders hunched and he twisted his cap in his hands. “Forgive me for raising my voice, Lady Samira.”
“If you think this is because of you, then you think too highly of yourself,” she rasped. The farmer flushed beneath his beard.
“I will see to her,” Dyna assured him. He ambled out as she sat in a chair beside Lady Samira. Her grandmother had yet to return so it was up to her to proceed.
Dyna took the councilwoman’s knotted hand and pressed two fingers to her wrist. It was cold and frail. Almost weightless. Her pulse was too faint.
“Is this difficult for you?” Lady Samira asked, straining to speak. “Treating the woman who led your father to his death?”
