Days had passed,and Lyvia’s transformations became increasingly successful as she created a small, winged cavalry for the Realm of Vael. And though she honed her skill, no one had ever managed a herd of winged horses before.
I chuckled as Aeriden stood at the center of a pasture, holding a bucket of oats over his head and shaking it. He whistled as he scanned the skies, trying to coax the winged gelding he’d chosen back to the ground. The tall bay made large circles overhead, ignoring Sultira’s horse lord entirely.
It would take weeks to train this herd of island horses and pirates how to fly together. And longer, perhaps, to prepare for a battle against the gods. My gut tensed as I recalled Selvina’s recounting of the skydrakes.
I made my way to the forge in the center of the island, where I was to meet Isla and continue our work on the múritinnes.
My eyes watered as I entered the dark building, the stinging smoke of melted steel snaking into my nose. Fires blazed in the center of the massive building, iron sparking as men and women hammered the metal in various lines and alcoves. I walked the outer rim, scanning the workplaces below until I came to the small room on the upper level.
Isla hunched over the Lock Scroll, and she ran her thin fingers over the scarred words on the hide. She looked up as I entered, and my brows narrowed as I noted her state.
Bags shadowed the amber eyes that darted up to me. My hands lifted to ask how long she’d been at it, but she scrunched up her nose in annoyance and swatted the air.
“I’m fine,” she signed, “And I think I finally figured it out. Come over here.”
She stood and gestured to me, waving her hand quickly at the massive cauldron before us. I moved to her side and peered in to scan its milky contents. Not much had changed since we’d been here last.
“I think we can pool our power,” Isla explained. “Contact with another magical being can sometimes mimic an amplifier, though it’s typically a much smaller bit of power. But the more I’m reading here”—she jerked her head to the scroll—“the more I think we need people from different races to work together. That’s the whole point of this.”
My eyes darted to the small rings adorning Isla’s pointed ears. I gave a firm nod, not needing more explanation. Isla’s smile stretched as she clasped her hand into mine.
Her full lips moved as she muttered the spell, and I spoke the words in my mind. I was never sure how or why it worked when I did it this way, but it did. And as the last word formed in my mind, a dazzling display of light and color erupted from the cauldron.
My face went slack as Isla began jumping up and down. Her face lit up as she called for Ezrich. I ran a hand over my face as I stared at the swirl of sparkling liquid, the colors twisting and writhing like a living rainbow.
Ezrich and Kellan entered the room distractedly, deep in conversation as their heads bent toward the small chunk of violet crystal Kellan held in his hand. Their faces snapped up as Isla said something, and Kellan pocketed the crystal as Ezrich rushed forward.
I took an iron ladle and scooped up the silvery, white substance, pouring it into the mold where it sizzled against the liquid steel. A sweet, loamy scent wafted up, and I blinked against the heat from the torch, shoving my spectacles up my nose as they slid against the sweat on my face.
The orange glow of liquid metal and sparkling light from the múritinne solution melded into a twinkling river. Ezrich moved quickly, and he shaped the múritinne metal as it cooled and began to harden, twirling it around a thin, iron rod. He hammered the anvil against it before twisting and hammering again.
My shoulders tensed in anticipation as we watched him repeat the moves until he dipped the thin ring in a vat of cool water, the heat escaping in a cloud of mist.
Ezrich pulled the band free, carefully removing it from the rod and letting it plop onto his thick, leather glove.
The múritinne ring glowed against the burning fire of the forge, and an opal-like shimmer reflected a spectrum of colors off the small white band.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
LYVIA
The Starling people’s salvation hovers a breath from damnation.
– Eghan Family Stone.
Lyvia – Borva, Votruvia
My birthday had come and gone, the days following the creation of the múritinne rings passing quickly. I glanced down at the one sitting perfectly on my middle finger, awe and pride continuing to collide in my chest. My gratitude for my brilliant friends only grew. It sparkled against the stunning violet crystal sitting on the finger next to it.
Stars draped the midnight sky, the dazzling display lighting up the velvety darkness blanketing me overhead. The mossy ground was soft beneath my bare feet, the ivory silk of my dress slipping over the tops of them as I slowly made my way through the thin, winding path.
Tall, white stones lined the maze, where two twirling paths led to a sacred, private space in the center. I ran my hand along one as I passed, the pads of my fingers slipping against the rough, ancient rock. I smiled, a distant curiosity forming, because for the first time in my life, I had no urge to dig. No desperate need to uncover the history here.
I could feel it.
This place was sacred. There was no need to scribble in a notebook, to pull out my tools and dissect.
Vulcan’s tenor voice vibrated through the maze, somewhere behind me, the notes of his heavenly song floating over the monoliths and pebbling my skin. I had passed him first. And after a few more curves, Isla, then Drystan, and at last, Aeriden.
