The man who slid those rings on my fingers waited in the neighboring cell with my best friend. We’d created something new, those weeks ago on his home island of Borva, and I wondered if it had ever been done before. Several knew of our connection, and our choice that wonderful night. But only Kellan and I knew what had happened after. The knot we’d tied was tighter than ever thought possible. Theweave.
Renova and Ganmira killed that man last year. They tried to take what was mine. Tynan said his sisters had intended to draw out his agony, but their emotions had gotten the best of them… They’d killed Kellan faster than they intended.
The golden spear that plunged through his chest plagued my dreams at night. Kellan had tried to call to me through the blood gushing up his throat.They’ddone that.They’dsent him to the Abyss. To Tynan’s Hell. And I knew his hell, just as I knew him.
The darkness in my veins writhed as the rage swarmed in my chest, feeding off the emotion it so loved. I paced, waiting for Tiberius’s voice in my mind to tell me it was time. I focused on a long line of black thorns sprouting up from a thick vine that stretched through the middle of the room.
I reached behind my head and unsheathed Enya’s blade, the intricate, nyxteria vine winding around the celestial details at its hilt. The weight of the longsword steadied me, like Enya herself had a firm grip in my hand.
We’re ready, Tiberius said a moment later. A wave of confidence raced through our bond.
I nodded, despite knowing he couldn’t see me.
Now.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
LYVIA
The weave reshapes magical bonds, requiring the power of two mystics.
– Bonded Magic, 18thlevel, Living Library.
Lyvia – Pyracantha, Lotrennia
Idove deep into the chasm housing my powers and listened for the lilting tune of the Transcindiel, the sweet, transformative light perking its head at my call. A rush of energy left me as it surged forward, and I stretched my hand to the black vine lounging in the center of the floor.
Golden light erupted from my fingers, encasing the line of black thorns in a blanket of shimmering sparkles. The razor thorns twisted and softened into delicate leaves and small buds, before blooming into the six sharp, violet petals of the nyxteria. I straightened, letting the Transcindiel siphon back into my hand before snapping my shield in place, and I waited for whichever goddess came for me.
Roars echoedoutside the tangle of Pyracantha vines, and my hair stood on end. I held Enya’s heavy blade to the side as I waited, the slight burn in my bicep and forearm a comforting reminder of my strength, of my own transformation in the past two years.
The twisting of vines hushed in the distance, and my heart quickened to a steady gallop. Someone was coming. I plucked a few blossoms from the nyxteria vine as I stepped over it, striding to the opposite end of the cell and turning to face the entrance.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she crooned in the distance. The voice pitched in ethereal notes even my elf ears couldn’t register, the sound originating from a part of the universe far, far from here.
My stomach turned over, and I tightened the grip on Enya’s blade, its hilt slippery in my sweating hand.
A moment later, a soft white light gleamed through the vines of the doorway, and my hair stood on end as a single, blue eye glowed beyond the smallest crack.
“Hello, little thief,” Renova purred.
In a blast of golden light, the doorway vines hardened into brittle, emaciated twigs, as if the Embodied had sucked the life from the enchanted plant. A moment later, something crashed against them, and they splintered, exploding across the small chamber in a tornado of tiny, broken sticks. My powers tightened their grip on each other as the debris bounced off my shield, and I adjusted my footing as I came face-to-face with the goddess of the moon.
“You have something of mine,” she hissed, stepping lightly over the debris in a humanoid form, her long, white ears pokingthrough her straight hair. She cocked her head, almost curiously, as I poured more power into my shield of death to strengthen it. Her lips pursed.
“It’s working withhispower?” she sneered as she examined the tiny bits of golden, Transcindiel light that emanated from the shield of death.
“They work well together,” I replied, keeping my voice as even as possible, pride bursting at the two powers, hands joined in defense.
“It’s time to return,” Renova said, straightening and curling a too-long finger out before her, calling the transformative light back. The Transcindiel living within me bucked at the summons, but it didn’t cower as it had that first time. No, it reared in response, pulling the Obscura along with it and thickening the shield between us.
Renova’s lips pulled over a line of sharp teeth, and she let out a gut-curdling snarl.
“This power has no allegiance to you,” I replied, needing to keep her distracted. “It has chosen a new leader.”
Renova’s head fell back as she laughed.
“Leader?It needs a master, you fool.”
