Chapter 1

  Year of Elyssa 3992, the 31st day of the Month of Nohr

  Ihllaea sprawled belly-down across her mother’s hand-made quilt, one foot waving idly in the air. She avidly turned the page of her latest library find, her emerald lifespark hovering over her head for light. Alone in her dorm room for once, she relished the quiet of her evening off—while enjoying a book she hadn’t read at least twice already. This book was well-written too, and full of truly weird, exciting shit she’d never heard about before.

  This is giving me the creeps, though. How does the Kae’Ren continent even have people on it anymore? These beetles ought to have overrun the place!

  Her skin broke out in goose-bumps at the horrifying description of the flesh beetle’s cousin, the burrower beetle. Flesh beetles ate dead meat.

  Burrower beetles didn’t wait.

  “Ewwww…” she whined, with a whole-body shudder she couldn’t stop. There was fascinating and gross, then there was this. Yuck.

  And then she eagerly read on. So good…

  “Laea?” her brother’s voice croaked miserably into her mind.

  His distress had her bolting up. “Shonal? What’s wrong?”

  “You need to come to the tower.” His mental voice…he was trying hard not to cry.

  Her own voice wobbled. “Nana? Did she…?” Her stomach dropped.

  “No. Not yet. But…”

  “I’m on my way,” she interrupted, bouncing off the bed and shoving her feet into her shoes. Anxiety spiked, all sense of the relaxation and fun she’d had just seconds ago gone as if they’d never been.

  Ihllaea dashed from her room, hurrying down the stairs of the Journeyman’s dorms and out into the advanced dusk and cool of Ithae Village, the Healer’s village. Rushing for the Circle Pillars just down the street, with their shimmering single-colored flames between each pair, she ignored those portals that would take her to the any of the other Villages of Lore Valley.

  Ihllaea aimed instead for the rainbow Circle that led to Lore Keep and hit it at a dead run.

  Coming through the portal, fifty miles away and into the Circle Room of Lore Keep, she narrowly missed running into a Healer on their way to Ithae. Ihllaea dodged right and zipped out of the room and into the hall.

  Thankfully the Circle Room wasn’t far from the wide doors that led into the central garden, and the Tower at its center.

  Lore Keep was immense. Because each of the four Walls that formed the ‘on-point square’ that was the Keep were a mile long, it was a half-mile to Tae’Oora Tower.

  Trotting down the wide but meandering path, through the dim lighting of the lamps set along the way, she hurried. Ihllaea flit past trees and shrubs, slapping lower branches out of her way, cutting to the inner curves of the path to get there faster.

  The Tower appeared out of nowhere in the growing darkness, the trees ending at a wide lawn chock full of flowerbeds.

  At the base of the Tower, her twin waited, eyes seeking.

  The moment he saw her, Shonal held out his hand. Ihllaea slipped her hand into his, zipping past him and tugging him with her as they hurried in unison up the stairs to the eighth floor, panting now. A stitch in her side made itself known as they ran down the hall, passing Papa Meether’s office, passing the council room…

  To the apartment where Papa and Nana had raised their four children and lived so long and so well…until now.

  Ihllaea swallowed the growing grief. No, no, no, no, no.

  Nana had been mostly fine this morning when they’d spent time dressing up, swapping jokes, and trying on jewelry. Weak, but smiling, if sadly.

  Seeking her right ear, Ihllaea swiped auburn hair behind it, so that her fingers brushed with aching memory, the engraved silver cap that decorated the pointed tip of her Elven ear. Then the cuff just below it, attached by a tiny decorative chain to the cap. Nana had put it on her today, and Ihllaea had been both amused and honored. It was Nana’s mother’s. Nana had looked her in the eye and firmly stated that it now belonged to her.

  On reflection…maybe that should’ve told Ihllaea something.

  No! She can’t go! We won’t let her.

  They weren’t the last to appear she saw, though most of their large family was there. She and Shonal arrived gasping, and seeking their grandmother. Hoping she was still with them.

  Papa knelt on the far side of her sickbed. He held her withered hand where she lay in the narrow bed they’d moved into the roomier living area for her care. Ihllaea and Shonal’s cousin Nohl, the Lead Healer and Ihllaea’s beloved mentor, knelt on this side, hand aglow with his blue-green lifespark as he ran his magic assessingly over Nana’s body.

  Nana lay staring at Papa with a small smile, eyes half-closed in weariness. Occasionally a flicker of pain passed over her face, but she never took her gaze from Meether. Nana’s silver-threaded auburn hair, the same color as Ihllaea’s, had been recently braided, ears still decorated with her favorite caps, earrings and cuffs.

  But Nana’s paleness had taken on the waxy, gray…

  With a sharp refusal, Ihllaea cast that thought from her mind. No! Please don’t call her home yet!

  But even the best Healer’s had their limits. The pain-blocking had become ever more frequent over the last month, while every attempt to destroy the wasting illness failed.

  Nohl lowered his hand and turned his blind eyes toward her. His mind saw just as well as his eyes ever had, so he knew she was present. “Laea. Remember what we talked about?” he asked, his soft voice somber and raspy. Despite his ability to lock in impartiality during his work—this was their Nana, and the grief in his voice came through.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Yes,” she whispered. If Nohl was already grieving…

  No. Not this again. I can’t lose, can’t fail…

  An image—a memory—swam before her eyes, of blood…and Mom’s beloved blue lifespark descending into the Eldritch.

  “It’s time to try. We don’t have a choice now,” Nohl said, voice breaking.

  She gulped and looked at Papa. The Lord of Lore Keep was oblivious, lost in the gaze of his beloved, clinging tenderly to her skeletal hand.

  Ihllaea met Nohl’s gaze with a firm nod. “Alright.”

  Worry knotted her nerves. And fear. What if something went wrong? What if she couldn’t…

  Nohl rose and bent to Papa’s ear, spoke soft words she couldn’t hear. Finally, their grandfather nodded. He turned to meet Ihllaea’s gaze, eyes haunted. “Please, Laea. Please try,” he whispered.

  “Anything, Papa.” She stepped into Nohl’s place beside Nana when he moved aside. Ihllaea took Nana’s other hand as she knelt beside her.

  “Narrea, sweetheart,” Papa murmured. “We’re going to try one more thing.”

  The last thing. The biggest thing. Ihllaea’s nerves ratcheted up more. Something they’d put off, knowing how dangerous it was, with no guarantees.

  Nana either didn’t hear him, or she just didn’t have the strength to do more than stare back at him. The smile she’d had moments ago was gone, and Ihllaea saw the ever-growing traces of imminent…

  She jerked her thoughts away from that trend.

  Papa’s free hand rose up to brush a few stray strands of silver-peppered hair from Narrea’s face. Then he turned to Ihllaea, eyes tight with stress. “Alright,” he said, voice hoarse, but the strength and leadership she knew so well lent it power. “Ihllaea, I’ll collect from the Eldritch and shift it for you. Then you can turn your magic loose on those tumors.”

  Ihllaea nodded and settled to wait, Papa and Nohl’s low voices soothing her as they planned. These two men were such an integral, beloved part of her life…

  Her free hand went to her loose hair to twist and tug, then nibble at the ends. Realizing what she was doing, she dropped her hair before someone noticed and said something.

  Her personal magic, while immense, wasn’t enough for this task. Thus, Papa’s planned descent into the heart of magic. But it was also her skill with micro magic they needed right now. Even if these tumors baffled every attempt by her and every other Healer out there.

  Tonight, maybe power and her skills…

  What they were going to do was risky. Papa and Nohl spent half an hour alone mapping out every action they would take. Once they had each action decided, they brought her in, describing in detail what Papa had to do, and then her part. This wasn’t something they could muck about with. Handling as much Eldritch power as they were about to was dangerous. Burned soul-tinders, rebound, and more, were all possible.

  So that was why Papa and Nohl took such care in the plan. Two hours after nightfall, they were ready. Ihllaea—anxiously eyeing Nana lest she slip away while they planned—nearly leaped from her skin when Shonal took her hand again.

  “Just…be safe,” he whispered, blue eyes anxious.

  Ihllaea drew a steadying breath, wanting a hug, but knowing time was essential as they’d already spent hours like pennies. “We will.”

  Shonal stepped back. When Papa held out his shaking hands to her over Narrea’s still form, she took them, trembling too.

  His eyes closed and he began.

  First his mind dived deep into the earth below them, into the heart of their world, Aea’s heat and core as nothing compared to the magical energy and power of the Eldritch.

  Souls. Every soul. Every soul born on Aea, had gone home to the Eldritch, joining in love and life with those gone before, a source of energy that mages called upon to help do their jobs of service to the people.

  The Eldritch was home. But Ihllaea hoped they could keep Nana with them for a little longer. Please let us keep Nana here. We’re not ready to say goodbye. Dammit. Why did I have to be born with weird magic?

  The time spent mostly had to do with her need for altered energy.

  Ihllaea turned her attention to her grandfather, watching his incredible skills. Papa’s mind dropped swiftly into the Fires of Life below them, deep inside of Aea. The Eldritch glowed its rainbow fire, endlessly, restlessly shifting. The life fires called to Ihllaea, and the regret that she couldn’t use it, touch it, feel it’s radiant energy, nipped at her yet again.

  Far below, Papa’s magic gathered the power of the Eldritch, pulling and scraping every bit he could handle.

  This would take some time. For him to gather this much magic, and alter all that magic for her…

  Ihllaea had to wait.

  A glance at Nana had her mouth drying. Breath kicking up, she knew too well the clear signs…

  Hurry Papa.

  The quiet weighed on all of them, knowing it would be soon now.

  One way or the other…

  Could she do this? Using that much energy was dangerous.

  As she watched with magical sight, Papa’s magic, deep in the Eldritch, completed the garnering of that energy.

  The power Papa was raising boggled her mind.

  Ihllaea paused. Because her senses were so highly on alert right now, she felt the presence of her old friend. For as long as she could remember, she’d had a green ‘friend,’ somewhere out there, watching, curious, protective. Sometimes it felt like another sibling, it was so…amused.

  She shook that thought away, but hesitated again as her senses tickled…

  There was more than one presence.

  For the first time ever, she felt two presences…but they weren’t together, weren’t working simultaneously. The green one was closer, observing…waiting? The other was too far away for her to feel much except wary watchfulness.

  Ihllaea, annoyed with herself, focused. This was too important, and it was too dangerous, for her to be looking around like a newly-minted Apprentice.

  The energy of the Eldritch roiled a rich spectrum of colors—all the traditional rainbow colors, but with brown and white, too. And every conceivable color. But as Meether took the energy he’d collected, it changed to his personal indigo blue.

  Papa’s magic reached for hers, and like two hands, they clasped with ease, long hours of partnership in magic making the hand-off to her as seamless as she’d ever known between them.

  Meether funneled that power to her mental hands. Making adjustments, she carefully followed his instructions; Papa wasn’t the leading Theoretical Mage in centuries for nothing.

  Now as he drained it into her mental pool, Ihllaea immediately turned to Nana, vaguely saw the magic shifting to rainbow again. Ignoring that because she still felt it as her own signature, Ihllaea began the process of Healing her grandmother.

  Burning off straggling cells of sickness, she attacked the masses.

  As usual, the large bundles weren’t responding to magic. She tried harder, burning at them—yet finding no change.

  Again, she tried to remove the mass from Nana’s brain, only to hit upon the same issue, coming too close to important centers of function. Ihllaea tried the one clogging her lungs, then the dozens of them around her liver, every node of lymph, she tried those too.

  The sickness wouldn’t budge.

  “No, Laea, stop. I can’t,” Narrea painfully whispered into her mind.

  “I’m trying to get rid of it, Nana.”

  “I know…baby. But I’m alright now. Going home.”

  The yearning in her voice brought prickling tears to Ihllaea’s eyes. “No! Please stay, Nana!”

  “I want to go home. So…tired…tired of hurting, Laea.”

  Nana’s mind turned away from her to Papa’s. “Love you, Meether.”

  His hand stroked her hair back, tears running together in twin streams of anguish down his cheeks. “I love you, too, Narrea. So much. So much, my darling.”

  Ihllaea stubbornly tried again, but failed. And tried again. But nothing changed, nothing moved, nothing went away.

  “Going home, Laea.” Nana’s mind rallied enough to speak firmly into hers. “It’s time for me to go home now. Be happy for me,” she whispered again. And then the frail thread of life binding her to her physical form faded away. Her pale-yellow lifespark dropped, leaving her broken shell—going home to the Eldritch.

  Ihllaea wailed denial into the night. The shock of loss and failure struck her mind and heart like lightning.

  She’d failed.

  Again.

  Someone moved closer, she felt his worry for her, his heartache—he was close—and then she flinched at the terrible, dark sound of shattering, snapping, heard his gasp of pain. He left abruptly.

  Ihllaea, tears falling, returned her mind to her body. Papa bent over Nana’s hand as he wept inconsolably. Aunt Cassaea’s hands lay on his shaking shoulders as she watched her mother pass, tears of anguish tracking her cheeks.

  “Narrea, aebae!” Papa’s voice cracked and warbled as he rocked, forehead pressed to her hand now.

  Ihllaea, shaking, rose and stumbled to Nana’s favorite chair. At the window, her and Shonal’s father stood facing the night, face in hands as he wept.

  Shonal met her at Nana’s chair, gathering her into his arms. Collapsing there, they held each other, lost in grief for their Nana.