“We are one but many. Power generators… at this moment,three hundred and twenty-seven of us. And more. But you know this from the Sleeping King.”
Emere stepped back from her, yet couldn’t help but ask, “Are there priests of Kamori within you?”
“No. But we know all about them, and others,” said Loran. “All the generators, the sorcerers that were, whisper to us, all they knew before and all they have learned since. We hold everything that is and ever was. We are history, therefore we are the future.”
It was one thing to hear Cain say the Circuit held past, present, and future within it. It was wholly another thing to hear it say the same thing. Had the Empire conquered destiny itself? If so, did it know that it had? His heart thumping faster, Emere barely managed to speak.
“What business do you have with me?”
“Before one of us opened his eyes again,” Loran said, “there was no us, just a machine that answered questions to the best of its abilities. When he woke up, we became us. And when he was taken away, we lost a vital piece of us. We could no longer give purpose to ourselves. All we can do now is know, and seek out those who would tell us what to do.”
Cain had indeed told him that the Circuit could not choose its own purpose.
Emere waited for Loran to continue. The blue fire inside Loran’s—the Circuit’s—left eye socket was covering half her face now. The sword at her side was also enflamed in blue. Emere could hardly open his eyes at the heat and the light. It felt like the flame was going to engulf him without warning.
“We are greater than what the people who made us couldimagine. Everything that happens in the world passes through us; we reflect as a lake reflects the sky, even in this very moment. You have seen the wasteland of our mind, Prince Emere, the last time you visited us upon invitation of the Sleeping King.”
“There was nothing there, nothing—”
But there had been the cold, confusing images that had come into his mind with every breath. The poison that suffocated him. There hadn’t been nothing in that place. If anything, it was filled with too many things…
“We need someone who would dare to understand what’s inside us and make a decision for us.”
“And you’ve chosen me to do that for you?”
“We shall see. Neither you, nor we, are ready for this.”
The blue fire now covered Loran’s whole body. The sound of the fire distorted her voice.
“Why me?” shouted Emere. “Why not some powerful elite in the Senate?”
“Because you have the makings of a king. One who may be fit to give us purpose, to decide for us.”
“And Ludvik?” Emere scoffed, unwilling to acknowledge their words. “Does he also have the makings of a king?” Septima had indeed warned him that Ludvik was conspiring to become the Imperator.
“Only those who stand in the moment of decision for not only the destiny of themselves but the destiny of countless others are whom we call kings. Only a king is worthy enough to command us. But by commanding us one becomes a king. Everything causes everything, and in turn is caused by everything. That is the nature of destinies.”
Emere felt he almost understood what it said, but he knew henever fully would. It was like having something on the tip of his tongue, knowing he would never be able to actually say it.
The blue flames had spread to cover the landscape. Emere had to shout over the roar of burning.
“But what must I do?”
Blue fire swept the battlefield and Loran blinked out of sight, before something in the sky drew his attention. It was what he had taken for a flock of birds the last time he was here, but now knew were the Power generators of the Circuit of Destiny—countless wrapped corpses floating in the air. They looked like silkworm cocoons, staring down at him. The cacophony of the fire turned into a whispering, like a song with no words.
The whispers coalesced into a chorus.
“This is what your enemy wants, and it will come to pass if you would not be king.”
The scene before him suddenly became calm, the blue fire disappearing as if it had never been there. He was on the plains of Arland again, but everything had changed. The beautiful Kingsworth, capital of Arland, was in the distance, but it had melted down like a pile of burnt sugar, and he could hear nothing save the song of the Power generators floating above. The trees and grass had yellowed as if in a long drought, and everything lay dead on the splitting red earth.
The chill of death filled his body again; a coldness poured into his lungs. Strength left his legs, and his body fell to the ground. He tried to maintain his breathing, but all he could do was struggle like a fish taken out of water.
In the agony of suffocation, he saw a vision of Kamori, seen from Finvera Pass. Instead of the evergreen trees of the forest,there were gray tree trunks that had melted down like a monstrously painted tableau. The vibrant city of Karadis was covered in black fog, obscured beyond recognition.
He wanted to scream but he had no breath.
Emere woke. He saw Rakel had come down to check on Septima. He coughed once to be polite, and Rakel turned back briefly to give him an acknowledging glance. He fell asleep again, watching her work.
