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Synopsis
The breathtaking conclusion in the sweeping new epic fantasy series from master world-smith Andrea Stewart, a story of magic, betrayal, love, and loyalty, where two sisters clash on opposite sides of a war against the gods.
As the great battle between gods begins, two mortal sisters must decide if they're loyal allies or sworn enemies . . .
Hakara and her rebels have won a small victory against the tyrannical god Kluehnn, but greater challenges lie ahead. To defeat Kluehnn once and for all, they will need to ally with Ayaz the Cutter and his army of gods . . . but Ayaz has his own plans of conquest.
Rasha once served Kluehnn as a Godkiller. Now she just wants to be free. To escape his influence, she must kill his aspect - a fight she knows she can't win. Her only chance is to convince her acolytes to side with her and turn their blades on their beloved god.
As Sheuan navigates the treacherous politics of Bian, trying to balance Ayaz's demands against her own growing ambitions, Mullayne seeks an answer to the greatest question of all - how to slay a god and save the world.
Release date: November 17, 2026
Publisher: Orbit
Print pages: 448
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The Legend Eternal
Andrea Stewart
Velenor forged the flower sword from a fallen meteor, adorning the hilt with her favorite white blooms from Isegin. When it was finished, she gifted it to the Queen of the Aqqilan Empire. The Queen gave the sword to her second-born daughter, who was the greatest swordswoman in the entire empire. And Velenor taught this daughter how to use the sword, combining the techniques that she knew with the ones this daughter already knew. The flowing movements complementing the curve of the blade, the quick footwork, the liquid way one dodged an enemy’s blows.
This is how the famous Aqqilan fighting style originated, with a blade forged from a meteor and two women with skills beyond the ken of both mortals and gods.
I would have cursed the rain, if cursing was an option. But I could hear the godkiller on the other side of the boulder sniffing the air, so even a whisper beneath my breath was likely to get us all killed. Water slicked hair to the nape of my neck, trickling in cold trails beneath my shirt. It soaked the bandage around my left hand, leaving the space where my finger had been aching and cold. The scarf wrapped around my mouth, hiding my face, dripped onto my legs. Least I didn’t look quite as miserable as Nioanen, crouched in the mud. I watched the swirl of an impromptu river around the golden ends of his feathers.
That damnable sniffing, yet again. I didn’t dare look. Alifra’s shoulder pressed against mine, her face the perfect study of calm, though she held her crossbow at the ready. Talie, in her cat form, had leapt onto Nioanen’s back, out of the way of the water. One of her ears flicked when I glanced at her, as if to say, I didn’t draw them here. And she might not have, though she was the first I’d look to with suspicion. Nioanen had avoided using his magic for hundreds of years. He knew how to keep a low profile. But maybe the aura of an elder god was so strong it could be smelled by a godkiller. Maybe he just unconsciously summoned aether, breathed it in, and leaked magic from his skin. He wasn’t easy to hide, either way.
Risky proposition, trying to sneak past the godkiller’s den in the mountains near Bian. But Talie said the army the gods were gathering was hidden in these mountains, and they were in need of a leader. And it wasn’t like we had the time to go the long way around. Not with Dashu captive in a den in Kashan. The sooner we connected Nioanen with his people, the sooner we could rescue our friend. Nioanen was one of the seven elder gods, one of the few who’d survived Kluehnn’s initial massacre. Defender of the Helpless. I’d known him mostly as Thassir, the large, grumpy winged man with an unhealthy affinity for stray cats.
Now he’d shed that guise and I wasn’t quite sure what to think.
Footsteps squelched behind me. I held my breath. Habit. Hadn’t even swallowed a gem yet.
The footsteps stopped. “Nothing close by that I can tell,” a voice called out.
“The air always stinks of them now, what with a whole army of them in these mountains,” a woman answered. “We’re not to chase any gods beyond the perimeter.”
“How are we supposed to know what’s inside the perimeter and what’s not when the air is so polluted?”
“Kluehnn always has a plan. He’ll clear the air soon enough.”
I waited until the footsteps faded away before touching a finger to Talie’s back. “Go check,” I whispered.
She gave me a baleful yellow-eyed glare, but leapt from Nioanen’s back into the stream, her calico fur slick against her back. Water splashed as she darted across the ground and up the side of a boulder. Claws scraped against rust-colored stone.
Her tail flicked when she summited, ears rotating in each direction. “It’s clear,” she called back. She shook herself, droplets flinging into my eyes. “We should hurry.”
I blinked until my vision cleared. “We can’t be caught.”
She dropped to a lower stone, level with my gaze. “I know. Kluehnn would go mad if he knew Nioanen was alive and crossing his territory.”
A pang in my chest. Two heartbeats quickening – one large and one small. The wound on my hand an echoing, aching throb.
Alifra shook her head, her curly hair flat against her scalp. “It’s not just that. Don’t you remember?”
“Ah. Hakara’s sister. Not as dire a problem, I think.”
Talie was gone, scouting the way ahead, before I could respond. I took a few quick steps after her and then stopped, taking a moment to wipe the rain from my face. Pointless. I’d never catch up unless she wanted me to. Not as dire a problem? What a ruthlessly selfish and practical way to think of things. If we encountered any of Kluehnn’s aspects or his godkillers, and they recognized me and lived, it meant my sister’s life. Rasha. She’d sliced the finger from my hand, all so she could tell him that I was dead. This close, the bond between us was nearly slack, a light tingle of citrus in my mind. Each time I thought about the danger she was in, I wanted to leave my companions behind and charge into the nearby den to rescue her.
I’d tried the same less than a year ago. She’d turned me aside, had told me she didn’t need my help. She needed my help now, didn’t she? How long did she have until Kluehnn discovered the truth?
A warm palm rested on my shoulder. “Are you feeling well?” The sky was overcast, yet I could feel the shadow of Nioanen’s wings at my back.
For a moment I wanted to shrug off his hand, but there were no more secrets between us, and I knew he spoke from a place of concern. Since that battle with my sister, we’d spent every night curled close together, never quite touching. The Numinar seed inside of me was cracking open, fed by the aether I’d consumed. Nioanen had augmented me, made me something more than mortal, so my body could withstand its power. But when its roots unfurled, its shoots rising forth, I would become the tree. “I’m fine. I feel fine. Missing finger is hurting like it’s on fire, but I’ve heard that’s to be expected. Not sure how I’m supposed to count to ten anymore, though.” I held up the bandaged hand for emphasis.
His lips pursed, like he really didn’t see the humor in it. Didn’t seem to get that sometimes humor was all you had, and the only thing you could do was laugh in the face of everything. Laughter was more powerful than fear, or at least it made you feel just a little bit better. And sometimes fights were won in these sorts of small increments.
“What are you going to tell them, this army of gods?” Alifra broke in. “You haven’t exactly been present.”
If Talieluna were here, she would have defended Nioanen. As though a massive golden-winged god older than the Shattering needed his feelings shielded from harm.
He flinched away from Alifra’s look, rain scattering as it hit his feathers. “I don’t deserve the title of Defender of the Helpless. Not anymore.”
Gods below, maybe Talie was taking the right approach. Did we need to build up his confidence? They’d be angry at him. They’d be angry at us. Mortals hadn’t exactly been kind to gods in the years since the Shattering. They’d turned them over to the godkillers, they’d chased them from their cities, they’d blamed them for the current state of the world. The same way the gods blamed mortals. What a mess we were walking into. I didn’t know whether the gods would welcome him at all, in spite of Talie’s hopes. But they needed his strength. I’d faced the same sort of dilemma after I’d found out who he was, but I’d gotten over it, hadn’t I?
Mostly I had.
Water seeped into my boots, making every step a cold squelch. “You’ve got to hold it together. Yes, you’ve done wrong, but you’ve survived, and what matters now is what you do next. Maybe they won’t see it that way. Let them be angry, because when it comes down to it, they deserve their anger. You’re stronger than you think you are. You can take it.”
Even through the rain, I caught Alifra’s raised eyebrow. Wasn’t sure if she didn’t believe what I was saying, or if she didn’t think I believed it. So I put more conviction into my voice. “They’ll be scattered. They’ll be confused. They’ll have some semblance of organization, but what they need is someone who has faced Kluehnn before, who knows the way he thinks and fights. And they need someone to smooth the way. If we’re ever going to win against him, we need to work together. All of us. We have to find a way not to hate each other.”
If I’d found a way to work with Nioanen, surely the Unanointed and the gods could find a way. I hoped.
Talie appeared on an outcropping in front of us. “They’ve circled back. Quickly.” She dashed to our heels. If she’d been a dog, she would have nipped at us. We kept low, rushing over the stream at our feet. I winced as more water sloshed into my boots. Couldn’t take the high ground, not now.
“Damn,” Talie cursed from behind me. “You’re not going to make it. Don’t wait for me.”
Before any of us could grab for her, she’d shifted into a fox the same rusty color as the rocks and darted back the way we’d come. The scent of her magic would be thick and heavy on the air now, a beacon for the nearby godkillers. She’d made herself a target.
Nioanen’s wings shook. “We should—”
I put a hand to his back and pushed. “No, we shouldn’t. You want to defend the helpless? Best thing you can do for them is make it to that army. Now.”
“Talie can take care of herself,” Alifra added.
We exchanged worried glances. I hoped she could. She was powerful, but inexperienced. In spite of her lofty assurances, she’d spent most of her life as a stray cat. She didn’t know how to fight. But she did know how to run.
And so did we. No point in sticking around when we’d have the whole den falling about our ears. The rain eased to a light drizzle as we ran up the mountain, Nioanen’s wings tight to his sides. The air cleared a bit, which meant I could run faster. But that meant the godkillers had more visibility too.
Past the den, Talie had said. That was the most direct route. Past the den, then slightly east, into a steep gravel field, over a peak, into a small valley above the coastline. They’d be there, she’d promised. I only hoped she would be able to meet us.
We didn’t stop to rest until we made it to the gravel field. By then the rain had cleared, and I had the chance to empty my boots. Nioanen shook droplets from his wings, the golden gleam of them bright even in the subdued light. There was something magnetic about his appearance, something that went beyond the cut of his jaw and the dark of his eyes. I remembered that same feeling when I’d met Velenor, the Glittering One, another of the seven elder gods. She’d gone back to the southern continent to gather the Godless, to prepare them for this final fight. I wondered if Lithuas had followed Velenor. She’d be hiding from Kluehnn, having failed him, and she hadn’t been keen on joining our cause. Three surviving elder gods of the seven. And we’d thought they all were dead.
We climbed the gravel field as quickly as possible, knowing that now the rain had cleared, we were more visible. A few small shrubs sprouted from between the rocks; grasses overturned beneath our passage as stones rattled down the slope. A crow passed overhead, cawing once, before continuing on.
Alifra gave me a quick nod when we reached the bottom of the peak, her breath quick, her clothes damp with mingled water and sweat. She tired more quickly than Nioanen and I did these days. But if she was fine to go on, then so were we. I caught Nioanen mouthing words under his breath as he climbed, the air growing more and more crisp.
The sun was setting by the time we made it to the valley Talie had pointed to on the map. The map hadn’t even shown it. It was tiny, tucked between two peaks, a shadowed green smudge against a rusty landscape. From our vantage point above, I could see the farms beyond, a small blue patch where the ocean lay.
Nioanen straightened as we approached, as canvas tents became visible, huddled in the shadow of the rocks. Without meaning to, I grabbed for his hand with my uninjured one. He let me, his fingers twining in mine as natural as breathing. I hoped he took some comfort from it. He could do this. He could lead them.
We fell onto a path between the stones, our boots tracking muddy footprints. As the ground became more level, the sounds of the camp grew louder. Voices, the crack of rock against rock, the clanging of cooking pans and the crackling of fires. The path ended at two boulders that leaned against one another, forming a triangular arch that led into a lush wet meadow.
A crow sat atop the peak of the arch.
It let out a series of soft squawks, its head bobbing as it regarded us from every angle. “Didn’t take you long to get here, from where I saw you last.”
Without another word, the bird leapt from the rock and shifted into a man with blue eyes, copper skin, and hair as white as sea foam. Scales spattered across his cheeks; tiny feathers hung from the edges of his brows. A furred tail lashed behind him. “Nioanen.” He bowed. I noticed he did not add his epithet. “Come with me.”
We fell into line behind him, Alifra casting me a raised brow. “Seem mighty organized,” she murmured. My hand fell away from Nioanen’s, my palm suddenly cold.
As we entered the camp, they seemed more than just organized. A row of gods marched in formation, blades held at the ready. A line had formed at a makeshift mess, the scent of cooked fish drifting with the wind. This wasn’t the scattered gathering of gods Talie had led us to believe was here. This looked and felt like an army. One with ranks, with a leader.
And then the crow-man was pushing a tent flap aside, stepping back to allow us to pass. Nioanen stopped and I ran face-first into the feathers of his broad back. “What?” I rubbed at the sore spot on my nose and tried to peer around his wings. He didn’t respond to me, his stance gone suddenly stiff.
“Ayaz?”
Shrines to Ayaz were scattered across the Aqqilan Empire, Cressima, Albanore, and Langzu. Silent, dark stone, with sharpened knives laid next to sticks of incense. In all these places, the stone slabs were littered with bundles of hair – tied with ribbon, with rope, with silk torn from wedding clothes. Often people visited these shrines after they severed a partnership. In all these places, men and women stood before Ayaz’s painted face and cut their hair close to their heads, leaving their shoulders light and their hearts lighter.
They cut away the hair that they’d grown during their relationships, just as they cut away the person who had been causing them pain. And as Ayaz had always preached, sometimes cutting made a thing stronger rather than lessening it.
Ayaz the Cutter, Ayaz the Cutter – the words ran circles in my mind as Nioanen stepped inside the tent. I couldn’t see beyond his wings; all I caught were Ayaz’s pale arms encircling him as they embraced.
“Nioanen! You’re… alive?” The voice that spoke was deep and smooth. The two of them drew to arm’s length as I stalked around the perimeter of the tent, Alifra on my heels. Nioanen’s wings near took up the entire space. But then I was around the edge of them and could see who had spoken.
Ayaz was a tall man, his white hair marked with streaks of black, dark, gold-flecked eyes regarding us from beneath inky brows. In spite of the hair, he looked neither young nor old, the lines carved into his face seeming to accentuate his features rather than to be any sign of aging. He pulled away, drawing his hands back into his sleeves, as though he’d been surprised into touching Nioanen in the first place.
Golden wings ruffled. “I am. Though I’ll admit I didn’t expect to see you alive again either.”
Ayaz’s gaze went to the tent entrance, where the guard stood waiting. “Fetch us some stew and tea. These are my guests, and I’ll entertain them as such.”
The crow-man’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing as he turned to go.
I cast a raised eyebrow at Alifra, but she only shrugged. She was just as unsure of what to make of this as I was. So it was we found ourselves seated on cushions at a table, at two corners across from two surviving elder gods. The flight feathers of Nioanen’s folded wings swept across the floor of the tent; Ayaz cupped a mug of tea between two bony hands. The stew – a thin concoction of root vegetables and what I surmised was rabbit – was too hot to eat, so I stirred it with a chopstick as Nioanen and Ayaz spoke.
“Lithuas spared me,” Nioanen was saying. “And I was changed enough that she didn’t think it necessary to send me away. So I stayed around, on the fringes of her plans. I couldn’t tear myself away, not completely. I think we both wanted the company, after…”
“Ah, Irael.” Ayaz shook his head. “And all the rest. I’m sorry, old friend.”
I noticed that Nioanen never jumped in to correct Ayaz, to mention their son, Thassir, as well. Then perhaps they were not as close as they’d first seemed. Or maybe that was a wound he wanted to leave covered. “Where were you, all this time?”
Ayaz lifted the mug to his lips, taking the time to blow the steam from the rim and sip. “In the castle, of course.”
Nioanen’s dark brows drew together. “You were the Sovereign?”
“I am the Sovereign of Langzu.”
A soft snort of laughter. “Of course you would find your way there. I should have known. You always did like to meddle.” Nioanen shifted on the cushion, one of his feathers resting on my shoulder. I brushed it away as though it were an unwelcome insect. This wasn’t a side of him I’d ever seen, but then I’d not known him as an elder god for long. He didn’t seem to notice, instead studying Ayaz’s face. “Your scales and your tail…?”
“Removed. Placed somewhere for safe keeping. Ah, remember when Barexi and I fought? The time it came to blows; I know we fought often. I completely lost my head, though he lost more than that when I scattered the pieces of him.”
Nioanen paused to swallow a spoonful of stew. “I ran into the whale that ate his finger.”
A cup set decisively onto the table. “You did not.”
“Turned the beast huge and strange.”
Ayaz barked out a laugh. “Should I let something eat my tail, then? See what happens? Could we have a mountain-sized rat, perhaps?”
Nioanen didn’t laugh, though the corners of his lips curved in a rare smile.
Alifra’s gaze was pointed as the tap of fingers on my shoulder. I glanced her way, knowing my expression must have been as bewildered as hers. What in all the depths was this? They spoke like two old men reminiscing in front of a fireplace. But that fireplace was the entire world burning down. We didn’t have time for a cozy catch-up session.
A burst of cooler air as the tent flap flew to the side. A calico cat tumbled into the tent, shifting immediately into a short woman with curly brown hair and green eyes. She panted there on hands and knees before shakily pushing herself to her feet. She looked exhausted, but she’d made it, and the tension I’d held in my shoulders since we’d arrived finally dissolved.
Talie didn’t look at any of us except Nioanen. “I shook them off at the gravel slope. How have the gods received your presence?”
Nioanen only stared at her for a moment, his spoon still raised halfway to his mouth.
“Well?” Talie’s gaze flicked to Ayaz, and it was like watching a cat spot its rival. A half-step back, a lifting of her shoulders. “Who is this?”
Ayaz lifted his mug of tea in her direction. “Ayaz the Cutter. The army is mine and no one else’s.”
The tent flap lifted again, this time more slowly, and an altered woman stepped inside. Suddenly the cramped space was filled with feathers – golden, black, and white. Wait. I knew that face. Sheuan Sim. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Sovereign, but this god didn’t want to wait for you to be finished with your guests. She says she was with them. I was unable to stop her.”
Sheuan swept past me, her feathers brushing against my back. She stood behind Ayaz, regarding us all with a discerning gaze. My thoughts fell into line, a row of cards at last stacking together. The Sovereign. Sheuan was married to the Sovereign. She was married to Ayaz, one of the seven elder gods. Had she known, when she’d married him? And now she was altered, even though Langzu hadn’t gone through restoration. I couldn’t quite seem to make sense of it all.
At last, I raised my rusty voice. I hadn’t drunk one drop of tea or eaten any stew. “We came here at Talie’s request. She told us there was an army of gods here in need of a leader. Nioanen said he’d speak to them. Get them organized and ready to fight. But if they’ve got a leader already, then I don’t see reason for us to be here.” Dashu was still in a den in Kashan, stolen away by Lithuas so Kluehnn’s faithful could study his fighting techniques. I itched to find him, to get him out of there safely. I knew Alifra felt the same way – probably even more strongly than I did, given their long-standing relationship.
Nioanen didn’t even acknowledge that I’d said anything. The lowered brows, the pursed mouth – he wasn’t finished here. “What do you intend to do with this army, Ayaz?”
Ayaz lifted a knee, draping an arm over it, and I could see the serpent in him, loosely coiled. “Take back what should be ours, of course.”
“The surface?”
The lazy wave of a hand, elegant fingers drifting as though in a breeze. “Unterra has changed, Nioanen. Even if we take it back from Kluehnn, it’s not a fit home for the gods.”
“So Kluehnn put the fear of the gods into the mortals, saying that we would take control of the surface – and you want to make that fear real?” This was Thassir speaking – low voice thick with danger. “We’d be doing exactly what he wants.”
“Does it matter, if we kill him first? Then who cares what he wants? I’m only thinking practically, my friend. What would you have the gods do then, hm? Defeat Kluehnn and then retreat to our pit of a home?”
“You said it yourself. It is our home. Whatever he’s done to it, we can make it beautiful again.” Nioanen lifted his bowl of stew, eyeing it with a new suspicion. “Where are you getting this food from?”
Ayaz studied his mug of tea. “This is the perfect location for us to build our forces. There are nearby farms, and fishing boats. As long as we maintain control of the port town, other gods can travel by sea to join us. I have men and women who can use the god gems in Bian and who can continue to smuggle gems to our army. When we are ready, I can send for my special enforcers, and we can crush the nearby den. From there, we flow outward into the rest of Langzu.”
Nioanen’s hand tightened on the edge of the bowl. “And the mortals who live on these farms and in this port town – they are helping you of their own free will?”
Ayaz gave a one-shouldered shrug, though the corner of his mouth twitched, an involuntary response. “You always were so sour about the practicalities. What are you here for, then? You wish to whisper your ridiculous ideas into the ears of the army I have brought into line? You want to wrest control of them away from me?” He leaned forward. “We once worked together, remember? We stood against Kluehnn side by side.”
A low growl escaped Nioanen’s lips. “We were defending ourselves; we weren’t taking land that wasn’t ours.”
I slid a hand across the table, erecting a small barrier between the two elder gods. I couldn’t help the way my gaze fixated on my own bandaged hand, the last finger missing. As funny as they’d seemed to find the dismantling of Barexi, I wasn’t keen on seeing that scene repeated. “The stories always say that Nioanen was the most powerful and respected of the gods.” I left the rest unspoken – by my measure, he should be leading this army. Ayaz had made a mess of Langzu; how could he be trusted with this task?
“Stories,” Ayaz spat. When he turned his gaze on me, the flickering gold in his eyes burned. “You think they’re real? Don’t you understand they’re warped as an old piece of wood, weathered by rain and sunlight until no one branch is straight anymore? He is not more deserving than I am. He would let this army starve instead of doing what’s needed.”
Sheuan placed a hand on Ayaz’s shoulder. The expression on his face didn’t change, and his gaze was no less piercing, but to my surprise, he leaned a little back on his cushion – a small retreat, a concession.
“Surely it can’t do any harm to let Nioanen speak to the army?” Her voice was coaxing. “They did come all this way.”
He let out a soft snort. “And let him try to pry them away? For what? So he can prance around and never give them what they all deserve?”
“Yes.” It was all she said.
For a moment, I thought he would throw her hand off, that he’d rise to his feet and draw his knife. She was altered, and he was an elder god – one who, if the stories were even the tiniest bit correct, had little issue with turning to violence if it suited him.
But he stayed seated as silence permeated the air. And then he gave a quick, short nod. “Fine. Let him speak to the army. I can give you that courtesy. But once you’re done, you leave.”
“With whoever chooses to follow,” Nioanen said, rising to his feet. Light filtered through his feathers, casting everyone in a golden glow.
Ayaz didn’t rise. “With everyone who chooses to follow you.”
Before Kluehnn brought his army to the surface, the gods fled Unterra in waves. The first ones could see what was happening, knew that their home was compromised by this new leader. With each war Kluehnn started, with each new category of gods he punished, more made their way to the realms above. The first gods were welcomed by the commoners, treated with reverence. They were believed when they said they had no part in the assassination of the mortal leaders.
These gods made homes for themselves in the realms, living peacefully with their mortal neighbors, their children intermingling and even marrying one another. Slowly, as Kluehnn and his followers infiltrated the surface, as they changed the flow of information, rhetoric shifted. Mortals shielded their children from gods, forbade their sons and daughters from keeping their company, saw their wings and feathers and claws as monstrous.
And then, at last, they drove them from their homes, from their villages, neighbor turning against neighbor.
I’d wrapped her finger so I wouldn’t have to look at it. Still, I could feel the weight of it in my pocket, brushing against my thigh with each step. There didn’t seem to be a proper way to treat the severed finger of your sister, and each step reminded me of the feel of my knife cutting through tendons, finding that spot between bones, slicing cleanly to the other side.
My own sister. Kluehnn said she was the enemy. I didn’t believe him, not anymore. But I didn’t know what or who to believe now.
Gravel slid beneath my feet as I climbed toward the den, my legs trembling. The air was thick with the smell of recent rain, fog swirling about the path and wetting the rust-colored stones that lined either side. Lithuas and I were the only ones who’d survived the fight against my sister, though I did not know the goddess’s fate. Khatuya was dead, slain by Hakara. The only thing that kept me going was Naatar. Kluehnn was holding him in his den – collateral to ensure I completed my task. Killing Hakara.
Only I hadn’t killed her. I wiped my sweaty palms on my robe, the misty air cold against my fingertips. I hadn’t been able to do it. A part of me wanted to run away, to find Hakara, to be anywhere but here. Our bond itched in the back of my mind, and I knew if I followed it, it would lead me to her. But I’d made promises to Khatuya and Naatar. We were a cohort. None of us would leave any of the others behind.
The first sentry spotted me soon enough, calling out through the mist. “Identify yourself!”
I rooted my feet into the path, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. I pulled my dagger free from its sheath, lifting it so the violet gem shone. “Rasha, godkiller. Kluehnn will want to see me. I bring him news.”
A low muttering, and then scattered footsteps. They’d send word ahead so he’d be ready to meet with me. “Proceed.”
I couldn’t help but silently count the shapes that appeared out of the fog as I continued on the path. More sentries than when I’d left. Scratched stone, the sign of passing arrows and crossbow bolts. The gods had brought the conflict to the den more than once. How long before they overran it completely? Kluehnn would have to do more than just reinforce his borders. It was good for me, that he’d be distracted. I took in a deep breath, let it out, did it again. I couldn’t allow any of what I was feeling to show on my face. For Naatar’s sake. For him.
I passed into the den, the large entry cave filled with chained men and women infusing gems under the watchful eyes of robed converts. This space had once felt like home to me, comforting and familiar. Now it felt as though I’d entered the jaws of some terrible beast, a place from which I’d never again escape.
Pointless, these thoughts. I had to stay calm. My footsteps echoed off stone as I made my way deeper into the den, toward the
This is how the famous Aqqilan fighting style originated, with a blade forged from a meteor and two women with skills beyond the ken of both mortals and gods.
I would have cursed the rain, if cursing was an option. But I could hear the godkiller on the other side of the boulder sniffing the air, so even a whisper beneath my breath was likely to get us all killed. Water slicked hair to the nape of my neck, trickling in cold trails beneath my shirt. It soaked the bandage around my left hand, leaving the space where my finger had been aching and cold. The scarf wrapped around my mouth, hiding my face, dripped onto my legs. Least I didn’t look quite as miserable as Nioanen, crouched in the mud. I watched the swirl of an impromptu river around the golden ends of his feathers.
That damnable sniffing, yet again. I didn’t dare look. Alifra’s shoulder pressed against mine, her face the perfect study of calm, though she held her crossbow at the ready. Talie, in her cat form, had leapt onto Nioanen’s back, out of the way of the water. One of her ears flicked when I glanced at her, as if to say, I didn’t draw them here. And she might not have, though she was the first I’d look to with suspicion. Nioanen had avoided using his magic for hundreds of years. He knew how to keep a low profile. But maybe the aura of an elder god was so strong it could be smelled by a godkiller. Maybe he just unconsciously summoned aether, breathed it in, and leaked magic from his skin. He wasn’t easy to hide, either way.
Risky proposition, trying to sneak past the godkiller’s den in the mountains near Bian. But Talie said the army the gods were gathering was hidden in these mountains, and they were in need of a leader. And it wasn’t like we had the time to go the long way around. Not with Dashu captive in a den in Kashan. The sooner we connected Nioanen with his people, the sooner we could rescue our friend. Nioanen was one of the seven elder gods, one of the few who’d survived Kluehnn’s initial massacre. Defender of the Helpless. I’d known him mostly as Thassir, the large, grumpy winged man with an unhealthy affinity for stray cats.
Now he’d shed that guise and I wasn’t quite sure what to think.
Footsteps squelched behind me. I held my breath. Habit. Hadn’t even swallowed a gem yet.
The footsteps stopped. “Nothing close by that I can tell,” a voice called out.
“The air always stinks of them now, what with a whole army of them in these mountains,” a woman answered. “We’re not to chase any gods beyond the perimeter.”
“How are we supposed to know what’s inside the perimeter and what’s not when the air is so polluted?”
“Kluehnn always has a plan. He’ll clear the air soon enough.”
I waited until the footsteps faded away before touching a finger to Talie’s back. “Go check,” I whispered.
She gave me a baleful yellow-eyed glare, but leapt from Nioanen’s back into the stream, her calico fur slick against her back. Water splashed as she darted across the ground and up the side of a boulder. Claws scraped against rust-colored stone.
Her tail flicked when she summited, ears rotating in each direction. “It’s clear,” she called back. She shook herself, droplets flinging into my eyes. “We should hurry.”
I blinked until my vision cleared. “We can’t be caught.”
She dropped to a lower stone, level with my gaze. “I know. Kluehnn would go mad if he knew Nioanen was alive and crossing his territory.”
A pang in my chest. Two heartbeats quickening – one large and one small. The wound on my hand an echoing, aching throb.
Alifra shook her head, her curly hair flat against her scalp. “It’s not just that. Don’t you remember?”
“Ah. Hakara’s sister. Not as dire a problem, I think.”
Talie was gone, scouting the way ahead, before I could respond. I took a few quick steps after her and then stopped, taking a moment to wipe the rain from my face. Pointless. I’d never catch up unless she wanted me to. Not as dire a problem? What a ruthlessly selfish and practical way to think of things. If we encountered any of Kluehnn’s aspects or his godkillers, and they recognized me and lived, it meant my sister’s life. Rasha. She’d sliced the finger from my hand, all so she could tell him that I was dead. This close, the bond between us was nearly slack, a light tingle of citrus in my mind. Each time I thought about the danger she was in, I wanted to leave my companions behind and charge into the nearby den to rescue her.
I’d tried the same less than a year ago. She’d turned me aside, had told me she didn’t need my help. She needed my help now, didn’t she? How long did she have until Kluehnn discovered the truth?
A warm palm rested on my shoulder. “Are you feeling well?” The sky was overcast, yet I could feel the shadow of Nioanen’s wings at my back.
For a moment I wanted to shrug off his hand, but there were no more secrets between us, and I knew he spoke from a place of concern. Since that battle with my sister, we’d spent every night curled close together, never quite touching. The Numinar seed inside of me was cracking open, fed by the aether I’d consumed. Nioanen had augmented me, made me something more than mortal, so my body could withstand its power. But when its roots unfurled, its shoots rising forth, I would become the tree. “I’m fine. I feel fine. Missing finger is hurting like it’s on fire, but I’ve heard that’s to be expected. Not sure how I’m supposed to count to ten anymore, though.” I held up the bandaged hand for emphasis.
His lips pursed, like he really didn’t see the humor in it. Didn’t seem to get that sometimes humor was all you had, and the only thing you could do was laugh in the face of everything. Laughter was more powerful than fear, or at least it made you feel just a little bit better. And sometimes fights were won in these sorts of small increments.
“What are you going to tell them, this army of gods?” Alifra broke in. “You haven’t exactly been present.”
If Talieluna were here, she would have defended Nioanen. As though a massive golden-winged god older than the Shattering needed his feelings shielded from harm.
He flinched away from Alifra’s look, rain scattering as it hit his feathers. “I don’t deserve the title of Defender of the Helpless. Not anymore.”
Gods below, maybe Talie was taking the right approach. Did we need to build up his confidence? They’d be angry at him. They’d be angry at us. Mortals hadn’t exactly been kind to gods in the years since the Shattering. They’d turned them over to the godkillers, they’d chased them from their cities, they’d blamed them for the current state of the world. The same way the gods blamed mortals. What a mess we were walking into. I didn’t know whether the gods would welcome him at all, in spite of Talie’s hopes. But they needed his strength. I’d faced the same sort of dilemma after I’d found out who he was, but I’d gotten over it, hadn’t I?
Mostly I had.
Water seeped into my boots, making every step a cold squelch. “You’ve got to hold it together. Yes, you’ve done wrong, but you’ve survived, and what matters now is what you do next. Maybe they won’t see it that way. Let them be angry, because when it comes down to it, they deserve their anger. You’re stronger than you think you are. You can take it.”
Even through the rain, I caught Alifra’s raised eyebrow. Wasn’t sure if she didn’t believe what I was saying, or if she didn’t think I believed it. So I put more conviction into my voice. “They’ll be scattered. They’ll be confused. They’ll have some semblance of organization, but what they need is someone who has faced Kluehnn before, who knows the way he thinks and fights. And they need someone to smooth the way. If we’re ever going to win against him, we need to work together. All of us. We have to find a way not to hate each other.”
If I’d found a way to work with Nioanen, surely the Unanointed and the gods could find a way. I hoped.
Talie appeared on an outcropping in front of us. “They’ve circled back. Quickly.” She dashed to our heels. If she’d been a dog, she would have nipped at us. We kept low, rushing over the stream at our feet. I winced as more water sloshed into my boots. Couldn’t take the high ground, not now.
“Damn,” Talie cursed from behind me. “You’re not going to make it. Don’t wait for me.”
Before any of us could grab for her, she’d shifted into a fox the same rusty color as the rocks and darted back the way we’d come. The scent of her magic would be thick and heavy on the air now, a beacon for the nearby godkillers. She’d made herself a target.
Nioanen’s wings shook. “We should—”
I put a hand to his back and pushed. “No, we shouldn’t. You want to defend the helpless? Best thing you can do for them is make it to that army. Now.”
“Talie can take care of herself,” Alifra added.
We exchanged worried glances. I hoped she could. She was powerful, but inexperienced. In spite of her lofty assurances, she’d spent most of her life as a stray cat. She didn’t know how to fight. But she did know how to run.
And so did we. No point in sticking around when we’d have the whole den falling about our ears. The rain eased to a light drizzle as we ran up the mountain, Nioanen’s wings tight to his sides. The air cleared a bit, which meant I could run faster. But that meant the godkillers had more visibility too.
Past the den, Talie had said. That was the most direct route. Past the den, then slightly east, into a steep gravel field, over a peak, into a small valley above the coastline. They’d be there, she’d promised. I only hoped she would be able to meet us.
We didn’t stop to rest until we made it to the gravel field. By then the rain had cleared, and I had the chance to empty my boots. Nioanen shook droplets from his wings, the golden gleam of them bright even in the subdued light. There was something magnetic about his appearance, something that went beyond the cut of his jaw and the dark of his eyes. I remembered that same feeling when I’d met Velenor, the Glittering One, another of the seven elder gods. She’d gone back to the southern continent to gather the Godless, to prepare them for this final fight. I wondered if Lithuas had followed Velenor. She’d be hiding from Kluehnn, having failed him, and she hadn’t been keen on joining our cause. Three surviving elder gods of the seven. And we’d thought they all were dead.
We climbed the gravel field as quickly as possible, knowing that now the rain had cleared, we were more visible. A few small shrubs sprouted from between the rocks; grasses overturned beneath our passage as stones rattled down the slope. A crow passed overhead, cawing once, before continuing on.
Alifra gave me a quick nod when we reached the bottom of the peak, her breath quick, her clothes damp with mingled water and sweat. She tired more quickly than Nioanen and I did these days. But if she was fine to go on, then so were we. I caught Nioanen mouthing words under his breath as he climbed, the air growing more and more crisp.
The sun was setting by the time we made it to the valley Talie had pointed to on the map. The map hadn’t even shown it. It was tiny, tucked between two peaks, a shadowed green smudge against a rusty landscape. From our vantage point above, I could see the farms beyond, a small blue patch where the ocean lay.
Nioanen straightened as we approached, as canvas tents became visible, huddled in the shadow of the rocks. Without meaning to, I grabbed for his hand with my uninjured one. He let me, his fingers twining in mine as natural as breathing. I hoped he took some comfort from it. He could do this. He could lead them.
We fell onto a path between the stones, our boots tracking muddy footprints. As the ground became more level, the sounds of the camp grew louder. Voices, the crack of rock against rock, the clanging of cooking pans and the crackling of fires. The path ended at two boulders that leaned against one another, forming a triangular arch that led into a lush wet meadow.
A crow sat atop the peak of the arch.
It let out a series of soft squawks, its head bobbing as it regarded us from every angle. “Didn’t take you long to get here, from where I saw you last.”
Without another word, the bird leapt from the rock and shifted into a man with blue eyes, copper skin, and hair as white as sea foam. Scales spattered across his cheeks; tiny feathers hung from the edges of his brows. A furred tail lashed behind him. “Nioanen.” He bowed. I noticed he did not add his epithet. “Come with me.”
We fell into line behind him, Alifra casting me a raised brow. “Seem mighty organized,” she murmured. My hand fell away from Nioanen’s, my palm suddenly cold.
As we entered the camp, they seemed more than just organized. A row of gods marched in formation, blades held at the ready. A line had formed at a makeshift mess, the scent of cooked fish drifting with the wind. This wasn’t the scattered gathering of gods Talie had led us to believe was here. This looked and felt like an army. One with ranks, with a leader.
And then the crow-man was pushing a tent flap aside, stepping back to allow us to pass. Nioanen stopped and I ran face-first into the feathers of his broad back. “What?” I rubbed at the sore spot on my nose and tried to peer around his wings. He didn’t respond to me, his stance gone suddenly stiff.
“Ayaz?”
Shrines to Ayaz were scattered across the Aqqilan Empire, Cressima, Albanore, and Langzu. Silent, dark stone, with sharpened knives laid next to sticks of incense. In all these places, the stone slabs were littered with bundles of hair – tied with ribbon, with rope, with silk torn from wedding clothes. Often people visited these shrines after they severed a partnership. In all these places, men and women stood before Ayaz’s painted face and cut their hair close to their heads, leaving their shoulders light and their hearts lighter.
They cut away the hair that they’d grown during their relationships, just as they cut away the person who had been causing them pain. And as Ayaz had always preached, sometimes cutting made a thing stronger rather than lessening it.
Ayaz the Cutter, Ayaz the Cutter – the words ran circles in my mind as Nioanen stepped inside the tent. I couldn’t see beyond his wings; all I caught were Ayaz’s pale arms encircling him as they embraced.
“Nioanen! You’re… alive?” The voice that spoke was deep and smooth. The two of them drew to arm’s length as I stalked around the perimeter of the tent, Alifra on my heels. Nioanen’s wings near took up the entire space. But then I was around the edge of them and could see who had spoken.
Ayaz was a tall man, his white hair marked with streaks of black, dark, gold-flecked eyes regarding us from beneath inky brows. In spite of the hair, he looked neither young nor old, the lines carved into his face seeming to accentuate his features rather than to be any sign of aging. He pulled away, drawing his hands back into his sleeves, as though he’d been surprised into touching Nioanen in the first place.
Golden wings ruffled. “I am. Though I’ll admit I didn’t expect to see you alive again either.”
Ayaz’s gaze went to the tent entrance, where the guard stood waiting. “Fetch us some stew and tea. These are my guests, and I’ll entertain them as such.”
The crow-man’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing as he turned to go.
I cast a raised eyebrow at Alifra, but she only shrugged. She was just as unsure of what to make of this as I was. So it was we found ourselves seated on cushions at a table, at two corners across from two surviving elder gods. The flight feathers of Nioanen’s folded wings swept across the floor of the tent; Ayaz cupped a mug of tea between two bony hands. The stew – a thin concoction of root vegetables and what I surmised was rabbit – was too hot to eat, so I stirred it with a chopstick as Nioanen and Ayaz spoke.
“Lithuas spared me,” Nioanen was saying. “And I was changed enough that she didn’t think it necessary to send me away. So I stayed around, on the fringes of her plans. I couldn’t tear myself away, not completely. I think we both wanted the company, after…”
“Ah, Irael.” Ayaz shook his head. “And all the rest. I’m sorry, old friend.”
I noticed that Nioanen never jumped in to correct Ayaz, to mention their son, Thassir, as well. Then perhaps they were not as close as they’d first seemed. Or maybe that was a wound he wanted to leave covered. “Where were you, all this time?”
Ayaz lifted the mug to his lips, taking the time to blow the steam from the rim and sip. “In the castle, of course.”
Nioanen’s dark brows drew together. “You were the Sovereign?”
“I am the Sovereign of Langzu.”
A soft snort of laughter. “Of course you would find your way there. I should have known. You always did like to meddle.” Nioanen shifted on the cushion, one of his feathers resting on my shoulder. I brushed it away as though it were an unwelcome insect. This wasn’t a side of him I’d ever seen, but then I’d not known him as an elder god for long. He didn’t seem to notice, instead studying Ayaz’s face. “Your scales and your tail…?”
“Removed. Placed somewhere for safe keeping. Ah, remember when Barexi and I fought? The time it came to blows; I know we fought often. I completely lost my head, though he lost more than that when I scattered the pieces of him.”
Nioanen paused to swallow a spoonful of stew. “I ran into the whale that ate his finger.”
A cup set decisively onto the table. “You did not.”
“Turned the beast huge and strange.”
Ayaz barked out a laugh. “Should I let something eat my tail, then? See what happens? Could we have a mountain-sized rat, perhaps?”
Nioanen didn’t laugh, though the corners of his lips curved in a rare smile.
Alifra’s gaze was pointed as the tap of fingers on my shoulder. I glanced her way, knowing my expression must have been as bewildered as hers. What in all the depths was this? They spoke like two old men reminiscing in front of a fireplace. But that fireplace was the entire world burning down. We didn’t have time for a cozy catch-up session.
A burst of cooler air as the tent flap flew to the side. A calico cat tumbled into the tent, shifting immediately into a short woman with curly brown hair and green eyes. She panted there on hands and knees before shakily pushing herself to her feet. She looked exhausted, but she’d made it, and the tension I’d held in my shoulders since we’d arrived finally dissolved.
Talie didn’t look at any of us except Nioanen. “I shook them off at the gravel slope. How have the gods received your presence?”
Nioanen only stared at her for a moment, his spoon still raised halfway to his mouth.
“Well?” Talie’s gaze flicked to Ayaz, and it was like watching a cat spot its rival. A half-step back, a lifting of her shoulders. “Who is this?”
Ayaz lifted his mug of tea in her direction. “Ayaz the Cutter. The army is mine and no one else’s.”
The tent flap lifted again, this time more slowly, and an altered woman stepped inside. Suddenly the cramped space was filled with feathers – golden, black, and white. Wait. I knew that face. Sheuan Sim. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Sovereign, but this god didn’t want to wait for you to be finished with your guests. She says she was with them. I was unable to stop her.”
Sheuan swept past me, her feathers brushing against my back. She stood behind Ayaz, regarding us all with a discerning gaze. My thoughts fell into line, a row of cards at last stacking together. The Sovereign. Sheuan was married to the Sovereign. She was married to Ayaz, one of the seven elder gods. Had she known, when she’d married him? And now she was altered, even though Langzu hadn’t gone through restoration. I couldn’t quite seem to make sense of it all.
At last, I raised my rusty voice. I hadn’t drunk one drop of tea or eaten any stew. “We came here at Talie’s request. She told us there was an army of gods here in need of a leader. Nioanen said he’d speak to them. Get them organized and ready to fight. But if they’ve got a leader already, then I don’t see reason for us to be here.” Dashu was still in a den in Kashan, stolen away by Lithuas so Kluehnn’s faithful could study his fighting techniques. I itched to find him, to get him out of there safely. I knew Alifra felt the same way – probably even more strongly than I did, given their long-standing relationship.
Nioanen didn’t even acknowledge that I’d said anything. The lowered brows, the pursed mouth – he wasn’t finished here. “What do you intend to do with this army, Ayaz?”
Ayaz lifted a knee, draping an arm over it, and I could see the serpent in him, loosely coiled. “Take back what should be ours, of course.”
“The surface?”
The lazy wave of a hand, elegant fingers drifting as though in a breeze. “Unterra has changed, Nioanen. Even if we take it back from Kluehnn, it’s not a fit home for the gods.”
“So Kluehnn put the fear of the gods into the mortals, saying that we would take control of the surface – and you want to make that fear real?” This was Thassir speaking – low voice thick with danger. “We’d be doing exactly what he wants.”
“Does it matter, if we kill him first? Then who cares what he wants? I’m only thinking practically, my friend. What would you have the gods do then, hm? Defeat Kluehnn and then retreat to our pit of a home?”
“You said it yourself. It is our home. Whatever he’s done to it, we can make it beautiful again.” Nioanen lifted his bowl of stew, eyeing it with a new suspicion. “Where are you getting this food from?”
Ayaz studied his mug of tea. “This is the perfect location for us to build our forces. There are nearby farms, and fishing boats. As long as we maintain control of the port town, other gods can travel by sea to join us. I have men and women who can use the god gems in Bian and who can continue to smuggle gems to our army. When we are ready, I can send for my special enforcers, and we can crush the nearby den. From there, we flow outward into the rest of Langzu.”
Nioanen’s hand tightened on the edge of the bowl. “And the mortals who live on these farms and in this port town – they are helping you of their own free will?”
Ayaz gave a one-shouldered shrug, though the corner of his mouth twitched, an involuntary response. “You always were so sour about the practicalities. What are you here for, then? You wish to whisper your ridiculous ideas into the ears of the army I have brought into line? You want to wrest control of them away from me?” He leaned forward. “We once worked together, remember? We stood against Kluehnn side by side.”
A low growl escaped Nioanen’s lips. “We were defending ourselves; we weren’t taking land that wasn’t ours.”
I slid a hand across the table, erecting a small barrier between the two elder gods. I couldn’t help the way my gaze fixated on my own bandaged hand, the last finger missing. As funny as they’d seemed to find the dismantling of Barexi, I wasn’t keen on seeing that scene repeated. “The stories always say that Nioanen was the most powerful and respected of the gods.” I left the rest unspoken – by my measure, he should be leading this army. Ayaz had made a mess of Langzu; how could he be trusted with this task?
“Stories,” Ayaz spat. When he turned his gaze on me, the flickering gold in his eyes burned. “You think they’re real? Don’t you understand they’re warped as an old piece of wood, weathered by rain and sunlight until no one branch is straight anymore? He is not more deserving than I am. He would let this army starve instead of doing what’s needed.”
Sheuan placed a hand on Ayaz’s shoulder. The expression on his face didn’t change, and his gaze was no less piercing, but to my surprise, he leaned a little back on his cushion – a small retreat, a concession.
“Surely it can’t do any harm to let Nioanen speak to the army?” Her voice was coaxing. “They did come all this way.”
He let out a soft snort. “And let him try to pry them away? For what? So he can prance around and never give them what they all deserve?”
“Yes.” It was all she said.
For a moment, I thought he would throw her hand off, that he’d rise to his feet and draw his knife. She was altered, and he was an elder god – one who, if the stories were even the tiniest bit correct, had little issue with turning to violence if it suited him.
But he stayed seated as silence permeated the air. And then he gave a quick, short nod. “Fine. Let him speak to the army. I can give you that courtesy. But once you’re done, you leave.”
“With whoever chooses to follow,” Nioanen said, rising to his feet. Light filtered through his feathers, casting everyone in a golden glow.
Ayaz didn’t rise. “With everyone who chooses to follow you.”
Before Kluehnn brought his army to the surface, the gods fled Unterra in waves. The first ones could see what was happening, knew that their home was compromised by this new leader. With each war Kluehnn started, with each new category of gods he punished, more made their way to the realms above. The first gods were welcomed by the commoners, treated with reverence. They were believed when they said they had no part in the assassination of the mortal leaders.
These gods made homes for themselves in the realms, living peacefully with their mortal neighbors, their children intermingling and even marrying one another. Slowly, as Kluehnn and his followers infiltrated the surface, as they changed the flow of information, rhetoric shifted. Mortals shielded their children from gods, forbade their sons and daughters from keeping their company, saw their wings and feathers and claws as monstrous.
And then, at last, they drove them from their homes, from their villages, neighbor turning against neighbor.
I’d wrapped her finger so I wouldn’t have to look at it. Still, I could feel the weight of it in my pocket, brushing against my thigh with each step. There didn’t seem to be a proper way to treat the severed finger of your sister, and each step reminded me of the feel of my knife cutting through tendons, finding that spot between bones, slicing cleanly to the other side.
My own sister. Kluehnn said she was the enemy. I didn’t believe him, not anymore. But I didn’t know what or who to believe now.
Gravel slid beneath my feet as I climbed toward the den, my legs trembling. The air was thick with the smell of recent rain, fog swirling about the path and wetting the rust-colored stones that lined either side. Lithuas and I were the only ones who’d survived the fight against my sister, though I did not know the goddess’s fate. Khatuya was dead, slain by Hakara. The only thing that kept me going was Naatar. Kluehnn was holding him in his den – collateral to ensure I completed my task. Killing Hakara.
Only I hadn’t killed her. I wiped my sweaty palms on my robe, the misty air cold against my fingertips. I hadn’t been able to do it. A part of me wanted to run away, to find Hakara, to be anywhere but here. Our bond itched in the back of my mind, and I knew if I followed it, it would lead me to her. But I’d made promises to Khatuya and Naatar. We were a cohort. None of us would leave any of the others behind.
The first sentry spotted me soon enough, calling out through the mist. “Identify yourself!”
I rooted my feet into the path, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. I pulled my dagger free from its sheath, lifting it so the violet gem shone. “Rasha, godkiller. Kluehnn will want to see me. I bring him news.”
A low muttering, and then scattered footsteps. They’d send word ahead so he’d be ready to meet with me. “Proceed.”
I couldn’t help but silently count the shapes that appeared out of the fog as I continued on the path. More sentries than when I’d left. Scratched stone, the sign of passing arrows and crossbow bolts. The gods had brought the conflict to the den more than once. How long before they overran it completely? Kluehnn would have to do more than just reinforce his borders. It was good for me, that he’d be distracted. I took in a deep breath, let it out, did it again. I couldn’t allow any of what I was feeling to show on my face. For Naatar’s sake. For him.
I passed into the den, the large entry cave filled with chained men and women infusing gems under the watchful eyes of robed converts. This space had once felt like home to me, comforting and familiar. Now it felt as though I’d entered the jaws of some terrible beast, a place from which I’d never again escape.
Pointless, these thoughts. I had to stay calm. My footsteps echoed off stone as I made my way deeper into the den, toward the
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The Legend Eternal
Andrea Stewart
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