Cheyenne tilted her head. “Sounds like you would’ve fit right in back then.”
“Indeed.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
The flashing lights of the raugs’ spell grew brighter as the gray-skinned magicals’ voices increased in volume and strength.
“We’re all a bit mad, aren’t we?” L’zar dipped his head. “I suggest you embrace it.”
“Maybe, after you get back on track and finish this illuminating history lesson.”
He chuckled. “It might make you feel sane. Sylra wanted to bring the darkness and the light together. Not in harmony, but to lift our race higher than we were ever meant to be. His wish was well-timed. The drow were pulled toward his idea like moths to the flame, only these moths did not burn. They consumed the fire.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes before her gaze landed on Corian. “Is he even capable of giving me a straight answer?”
The nightstalker shrugged. “Ask him.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly capable. What you should ask is if I’m interested.”
“Okay, forget it.” Cheyenne tossed her hands into the air and let them drop against her sides. “I’ll ask someone whose brain cells haven’t been fried by their own magic.”
She started to turn around.
“Cheyenne.”
The sharpness in her father’s harsh whisper made her pause.
“Hangivol is the drow city, the capital Sylra and his followers created from within the darkness. The metropolis they worked together to raise from the crumbling shadows of a world that always had and always would prefer not to see us. It’s our legacy. Ba’rael’s. Mine. Yours.”
She glanced at Corian, but the nightstalker didn’t look up from the particularly interesting patch of thin, drying grass at their feet. “So, they built the city.”
“They built the city. And their forces grew. Drow surged from the underbellies of every other O’gúl kingdom, from their eternal existence in madness and unseen power.” L’zar’s grin widened even more as a dark, longing chuckle escaped him. “Then Sylra led our people across this world and razed every other kingdom to the ground.”
“What?”
“We are conquerors, Cheyenne. One by one, the other thriving cities of every race in Ambar’ogúl fell to Sylra’s forces and his mad dream. When he was finished, Hangivol remained, the bastion of drow power, ruled by one mór edhil at a time with their Nós Aní by their side.” Giving his daughter a moment to let the information sink in, L’zar took a deep breath and spread his arms. His dark grin faded slightly, and the crazed glory burning in his golden eyes snuffed out. The raugs’ combined spell flashed brighter still, and the pace of the chanting picked up. “It’s the ultimate underdog story if you ask me.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” Cheyenne frowned. “Sounds more like a bloodbath.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was.” L’zar closed his eyes. “I would have loved to see it with my own eyes.”
Of course he would. She snorted and shook her head. “So, there’s nothing special about drow that keeps Ambar’ogúl running, right? Like, the whole world won’t fall apart if a drow doesn’t sit on the throne?”
Corian cleared his throat and looked at her. “Absolutely not, except that a drow has ruled as the Crown for as long as any of us have lived. Even Foltr.”
“Then I can choose someone to take my place, and they don’t have to be a drow.”
L’zar chuckled. “I assumed you already realized this.”
“Well, now I know for sure.”
“It’s possible.” Corian scratched his neck beneath one twitching ear. “We might find ourselves hung up on a few technicalities, changes we’d have to make to reorient the source of magic from the drow to any other race. Keep in mind, kid, Hangivol was built by drow for drow. The last Nimlothar lives within the Heart.”
“I’m not cutting down that tree so someone else can sit on the throne without it.”
The nightstalker gave her a gentle smile. “No one’s asking you to.”
“Good.”
“The old laws would still stand for anyone who took your place if they agreed.”
Cheyenne said, “Yeah. Apparently, that’s gonna be the hard part.”
“Indeed.” L’zar chuckled, half growl and half hum of amusement. “If the next drow in line to turn their own new Cycle doesn’t want to claim it, I can’t imagine anyone else who would.”
She stared at her father and his crooked smile. Someone will want it. There has to be someone else, ‘cause it sure as hell won’t be me.
When neither offered anything else, she shrugged. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“Hmm.” Corian pressed his lips together and fought to hold in a laugh. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”
“If we’re looking at changing the ruling race for this entire world, are the O’gúleesh gonna have a problem with a Crown who isn’t a drow?” A massive crack split the air, and Cheyenne looked over her shoulder to see the group of raugs blasting pulsing yellow and orange light at a central point in the air in front of them. The spellcasting wasn’t finished yet. She turned back toward her father to continue.
“Not particularly.” Corian stroked his chin.
L’zar clasped his hands behind his back and dipped his head. “No, I imagine most would be thrilled by the prospect at this point.”
“Right.”
“No one expected the drow to excel in their rulership, kid.” The nightstalker glanced briefly at the growing spell behind her. “As it turned out, once the chaos settled after Sylra’s rule, of course, every drow Crown since has done a remarkable job of running this world, with a surprising knack for maintaining balance. Justice and violence. A measure of tolerance for dark magic amidst maintaining the lifeforce of Ambar’ogúl, not to mention that all the technological advancements were made under drow rule. It didn’t take long for the rest of the O’gúleesh to fall back into their regular pattern of going about their daily lives and not giving a shit
