CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is an orb in the council room of Mount Telum. He says it is a trick of the light, but I swear I’ve seen faces.
—Intercepted correspondence from Queen Galena, intended for Sir Ronan Merik.
My heart leaped into my chest before beginning a steady gallop, and I staggered back. I’d seen those eyes twice before. First, in Mount Telum, the night I’d been taken by the kingsguards and then again in Stynguard, when High Priest Helmar had strapped me to that chair.
Dread coiled in my gut. That soldier wasdead. The kingsguard with the unnerving, silver eyes was dead. Dead by the hands of Cyril’s soldiers. I blinked, and the mystic’s eyes had returned to their gray-blue hue, continuing his scan of the crowd.
“The past hundred years, we’ve suffered after the loss of one of our own. TheSonof ourSun. The one that brings life and light to all Lotrennia.”
I shifted on my feet, catching Vulcan and Isla’s wary eyes. The mystic scanned the crowd, whose murmurs filled the space.
“Aelius has blessed us this spring with his return. And with it, the return of the prosperous fruit that once thrived on these lands.”
My stomach churned.
“Bayne Ravindra, Forgotten Prince, Bellator Reborn, has at last come home. And in his journey across the Juniper Sea, he has delivered the Bonder of Bellators.”
A deep shade of pink flooded my cheeks, and I shrank between Drystan and Isla, grateful for the glitter that concealed the black clothes. Still, the elves around us glanced in our direction.
Hushed murmurs spread throughout the crowd, and I resisted the urge to sink back into the expansive forest behind us. Instead, I kept my gaze firmly on the mystic ahead, grateful Bayne wasn’t here for whatever agenda this mystic had planned.
The mystic began a series of prayers, all in elven, the crowd joining in murmured repetition. Soon, the humming of thousands of elves lining the Eye of the Wood rose up in beautiful song.
The Transcindiel stirred within me for the briefest moment, a soft, thin tendril of magic tiptoeing through my entire being. I didn’t manifest it, but I reached a strand of consciousness toward it in acknowledgment. The power had slumbered for so long, and the voices of the elves of Lotrennia acted like a little signal, calling it awake.
Room was made for the elderly and the youngest elves at the edge of the cliffs. Those who had never seen the Awakening, or those who might have limited years to witness it.
Isla nudged Drystan and me toward the edge so that we might be able to see the entire lake, but I shook my head as Tiberius and I shared a look. He sauntered away, the crowd parting for him as he made his way back to the forest.
I pulled my attention back to the expansive, glittering lake. The mystics extended their hands in front of them, murmuring under their breaths as little bits of tiny lights danced along their fingertips.
I scanned the crowd for Vienah, curious to see if she’d made the trek to witness their water whispering. As one, the mystics moved their arms in swooping circles as the blazing sun rose directly above the lake.
Gasps of awe filled the air as the whooshing of the water below grew louder. The lake water spun, as though the mystics lining its edge wielded massive oars.
The spinning water rose up the cliffs, a tapestry of white, sapphire, and aqua blue stripes and swirls dancing along the ivory stone. It rose until the mist from the spray kissed our faces, thousands of feet above the water's surface. The elves along the edges didn’t balk. In fact, they reached their hands out before touching their fingers to their brows and kneeling in prayer.
Like a wave of its own, all of those surrounding the Eye of the Wood were on their knees, myself included. I reached for the bond that tethered me to Tiberius, opening the connection, and found myself hundreds of feet above the lake, wings beating strongly, looking down into the swirling tempest.
I gasped as I took in the sight below where Tiberius flew, the lake so deep that the squall didn’t even lighten the water in the center. It spun down hundreds of feet, where black-blue water swirled quietly in its center, lightening as it ascended.
I held onto Tiberius’s cast, not wanting to miss this as he hovered in place.
We stared at that spot for several moments, captivated by that dark, calm water. Like a starless night before the rising of our two moons, Renova and Ganmira. That place between the stars that held everything, yet nothing at all. Tiberius’s wonder mingled with my own.
A long, black line rose at the center of the darkness, sucking in that black-blue. Lightning fast, it split down its center, like a giant eye opening.
A sea blue circle filled the center of the lake with a black oval constricting against the blazing sun overhead.
An eye.
Tiberius hovered mid-air, and we marveled at the creature staring at him from the depths of the lake, when a torrent of wind and water crushed down from every direction. My heart dropped.
The mystics have stopped the water whispering!I screamed into our bond as water flooded Tiberius’s vision. I struggled to maintain the cast and shoved my way through the crowd to find the long line of mystics lowering their fatigued arms.
Tiberius’s wings beat wildly as he tried to ascend through the wall of water crashing down on all sides. The lake water soaked his sleek body, his velvety wings sopping wet, dragging him down.
