Serah reached across and touched his hand, a move that surprised him, especially after her earlier harshness. “Who isn’t here? We’re all still alive, which is amazing in itself. What’s the next thing we can do? Don’t think about the Orb of Psionics. What’s something we can do right now to better our situation?”
“I mean, we’re doing it,” Lucian said. “Trying to talk and plan. We need agency, but that’s impossible when we’re inside the Queen’s palace.” He looked around the room. “And for all we know, she has someone in the walls listening to every word we say.”
“I have us warded,” Fergus said. “And if someone were trying to dismantle that ward, I’d be the first to know.”
Lucian nodded gratefully. “Good to know.”
“We have a choice to make, as I see it,” Fergus said. “Abandon our original mission and join forces with her. Or . . . the other option. Trying to get to the Orb first and then do what we originally planned. Or as Lucian said, work with her and wait for this Vera to come and settle the score. I don’t much like that one, because it depends on too many unknowns.”
Cleon’s mouth opened and he leaned forward, as if to say something. He started to fall, and would have had Lucian not caught him.
Lucian sighed. “It’s hard not to feel like we’re just going right into the jaws of doom, so to speak.”
“That’s an apt way to put it,” Serah said. “Well, rest assured Fergie and I won’t leave you to this spidery bitch. We’ve been through too much, have come too far, the stakes are too high. Et cetera.”
“Thanks,” Lucian said.
She looked down at the frayed skin on her arm, drawing Lucian’s attention to it also. Was it his imagination, or had that marring grown since he’d met her?
“I’ve only got a little time left,” Serah said. “It would be nice to find all these Orbs before this does its work.” She nodded down at the frayed skin. “And it’s not like I have much to live for here.”
“I know this isn’t easy,” Lucian said. “The last thing I want is to work with her. But she does have resources, an airship, and an entire empire at her disposal. We have to use it, but we’ll always be looking out for the first opportunity to go our own way. I’m not sure if it’ll come down to a fight at the end. I hope not. I believe an answer will reveal itself. We just have to watch for the right opportunity.”
“We’re really doing this, then,” Fergus said. “I see no other way forward.”
Cleon gave an angry grunt but was unable to form words.
“Are you sure he’s okay?” Lucian asked.
“She calmed him hard,” Serah said. “I’ll have to get her to show me how she did it. Seems like a good trick.”
Cleon grunted again.
“We should stick together, in any case,” Lucian said. “There’s no reason for us to sleep separated tonight. We’ve got two couches here, plus the bed.”
“The floor’s fine for me,” Serah said. “I can’t sleep on anything soft anymore.”
“Let’s let Cleon have the bed,” Fergus said. “All of us should sleep now. We will need our wits to survive tomorrow.”
Lucian dreamed of the Orb of Psionics. It shone violet in the darkness, thrumming with power. It was as if it could sense he was getting close.
Find them . . . the Voice said. Bring them to me.
Just hearing that voice again, after so many months and after just talking about it, sent a chill down his spine. But this time, he wasn’t a scared child stunned into silence.
He intended to find answers, despite his own fear.
Who are you?
The Voice was quiet. So quiet, that Lucian was sure that it had gone. The violet Orb continued to pulse with power.
I am the Voice of the Manifold. I have chosen you to fulfill my purpose.
You mean, you are the Immortal.
The Voice was silent for a long time. It was as if it were watching. Waiting.
I am all that is Immortal. I am the Unmoved Mover, the reality that casts the shadow. Anything Immortal is me. But I am not a particular person or place. The Immortal is a part of me, but I am not the Immortal.
So, the Immortal, the Chosen of Starsea who last held all the Orbs, was now a part of the Manifold, but he wasn’t the Manifold itself.
As I have chosen you, the Manifold has chosen me to speak for its sake. The Manifold wishes for you to find the Orbs and return them to the Heart of Creation. The Balance must be restored.
The Balance? What do you mean by that?
The Starsea Cycle must end. And it will end when the Orbs have been returned to the Manifold.
To the Heart of Creation.
Yes, the Voice said. The Heart of Creation.
How?
The First Gate beyond the Dark Space. It will take you there. Find the Orbs. Bring them to me.
And destroy them?
No . . . not destroy. Never destroy. Magic itself would end. Your species would be left stranded, desolate. The Gates would go dark, and travel between them impossible. That would be apocalyptic for your society. Almost as bad as the fraying . . .
Of course that would be one of the effects of ending magic, besides countless others. It was not something the Oracle of Binding had mentioned, nor something that had even crossed his mind. If that was going to happen, then why would he ever destroy the Orbs?
Everything was even more confusing now.
Magic need not end, Chosen. It must not end. It has always been, just as it always must be. The Starsea Cycle can end, and you need not carry the burden of the Orbs. Not forever.
