None of them will remember the truth of what happened here.
The plan we’ve devised requires full cooperation throughout the coming ages. Full trust. And such a thing is too perilous to depend upon. Not when the future of the world is at stake.
Because itisat stake.
The more the reaper numbers grow, the greater the chance that one will leave the isle and venture to the mainland. The moment that happens, all will be lost.
So we have to make sure the reapers can never leave.
Ihave to make sure.
As the only alchemist here, I alone am capable of the magic this task requires.
It took me weeks, but I finally figured it out. I know how to keep the reapers confined to Elverdine. How to keep everyone on the mainland safe.
I have created death.
A mist—that’s what I’ve developed. A dark, deadly mist that will surround the isle and act just like a reaper, sucking the ellixen straight out of any living being it touches.
It’s complicated magic. The only way I can make it work indefinitely is to bind it to the most powerful source on the island. Normally, that would be the Hallow Stream, but since its magic is suppressed, it’s the obelisks themselves that I require. Even then, I need…more.
Because the mist—the blackmist—must be fueled.
And for that to happen, it needs a continual supply of fresh ellixen.
If the Hallow Stream were free, then the flow of magic would enable this. But we can’t risk releasing the Stream’s power, not with how volatile, howfuriousit is. The effect a mere fraction of it had on Kadmus alone…how it corrupted him, made him hunger for more, led to him becoming a monster, a reaper…
No, the Stream must remain suppressed, for the sake of everyone on the isle. But that means we need another source of fuel for the blackmist.
It was Anissa who came up with the idea. Anissa who suggested the ultimate sacrifice for her people. But also, the ultimate protection.
“Our children,” she declared. “Once they reach fourteen, their ellixen is at its strongest, unless they’re one of the rare few who has the capacity to become a mage. So at that age—or close to it—they’ll yield all but a drop to the obelisks, keeping just enough to survive but not enough to tempt the reapers. They’ll be safe, and the obelisks will have the power needed to feed the mist. It’s the perfect solution.”
“What about before they’re fourteen?” I argued. “If we do this, children under that age will still be targeted.”
“My hunters and I will protect them.”
I wished I had her confidence. “Why would anyone give up what little ellixen they have?”
“Because we’ll lie,” Anissa answered without hesitation. “We’ll tell them the obelisks are warding us from the blackmist, and that their magic is needed to keep those wards strong—which is true, if you ignore the fact that the obelisks are also fueling the mist.” She waved a hand, as if that last part hardly mattered. “We’ll also tell them that if they don’t yield their ellixen, they’ll burn out. That alone is all the incentive they’ll need.”
I shook my head. “Only those who develop enough power to become mages are at risk of burning out. Everyone knows that.”
“Then it’s a good thing we still have some mentalist mages here,” she returned, “since we’re going to need them to modify our memories.” Seeing my shock, she leaned forward and added, with emphasis, “We need toforget, Tephie. We need to believe the lies. It’s the only way we can protect them all—my people and yours.”
And so the full scope of our plan was formed.
At Anissa’s urging, the mentalist mages have begun preparations to cast widespread memory enchantments over all who live on the isle, shallows and reapers alike. When the last of the mages leave, they’ll take with them any items that might expose the deception—books, notes, journals—as well as teachings on how to use magic or avoid burnout. Anything that might make the shallows resistant to giving their ellixen to the obelisks.
Then the mages will depart on their dragons, gone forever.
All but one of them.
Because someone needs to stay and release the mist around the isle, rounding up as many reapers as possible in the process and trapping them inside the northernmost mountain. The shallows won’t remember that the monsters are in there, or the sheer numbers of them—a parting gift from the mentalist mages to help limit their nightmares—but, Elders willing, the mist will keep the bulk of the reapers contained throughout the coming ages. If nothing else, their initial confinement will give the hunters a fighting chance against those who manage to remain free.
Beyond that, there’s one more reason why someone must stay behind: to watch over the Aravellians from afar, ensuring the obelisks protect them from the very mist that they themselves are fueling. We owe them that much.
Iowe them that much.
