“What secret?”
“The leaves,” he said. He drew one from the folds of his cloak, a single brown leaf, crumpled and dead. She took it from him, and it disintegrated with the slightest bit of pressure in her grasp.
She shrugged. “Dead leaves. It happens.”
“Not here. It’s a sign, a small one, that the magic is fading. Even with the Kindred found and scattered across Mytica, it’s too late to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“This world . . . what’s left of it . . .” He paused, and when Lucia was certain he wasn’t going to continue, she followed his gaze out toward the greenery beyond the city arches, hills, and valleys that seemed to go on forever.
“What’s left of it?” she repeated, not understanding. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“My fellow immortals panic at the sight of a dying leaf, all the while ignorant that it could be much, much worse.” He turned to her with a grim expression, and she met his gaze. “You need to know what could happen to your world. Look again at my beautiful Sanctuary.”
Lucia blinked, then turned once again to survey the pristine view. Only now, beyond the city, the greenery she’d admired didn’t stretch as far as before. A mile, perhaps two, beyond the city gates, the land turned to scorched and blackened earth. And, like a jagged cliffside, it then dropped away entirely. The blue sky had turned to a sheet of solid darkness, no stars to be seen.
The Sanctuary consisted of the city and perhaps a mile of greenery before all beyond it was destroyed.
“What happened?” she choked out.
“An immortal named Damen was created at the same time as Eva, but with the power to kill. He acted only out of a fiery need to destroy, just as the fire Kindred does. The only difference is that Kyan has no real choice over what he is and what he wants. Damen had a choice, and he chose to hurt us. To try to end us. And finally, so many years after his attack, there isn’t enough magic left here to sustain the little that remains of this dying world. Without the Kindred to replenish the life of this realm, the Sanctuary has wasted away to this mere shard, with only a fraction of my kind still in existence. I use my magic to conceal the truth from the others and to try to hold what remains of this world together for as long as I can.”
No one should have such a horrible burden all alone, she thought, sickened by the very idea of what he’d shared with her. “The Kindred. If the crystals are returned here, will that help you?”
He cocked his head. “It won’t fix what is gone, but it would save what’s left.”
Lucia nodded, feeling the resolve building within her. “Then that’s what I need to do. I need to find and imprison Kyan, wherever he is now, locate the other Kindred orbs, and bring them back here. Then my world and the Sanctuary will be saved.”
Of course she knew it wouldn’t be nearly as easy as it sounded.
Timotheus didn’t smile at this suggestion, but a sliver of hope flickered in his eyes.
“Are you going to say something?” she prompted when he fell as silent and still as his fellow immortals during his speech. “Or are you going to direct me to the nearest gateway so I can get back to the mortal world?”
“You must have heard me say earlier that I’ve disabled all gateways.”
She waited. “So . . . enable one again.”
“Without more elders, that will take time.”
“My magic could help you.”
“No. It must be mine. You must hold on to yours for when you next face Kyan.” He nodded, as if to himself. “You will stay here in the tower. Rest. Eat. Regain your strength. As soon as I can, I promise I will help return you to your world so you can attempt to do what is necessary to save us all—if that’s truly what you want.”
It was. Lucia had never wanted anything more.
CHAPTER 8
MAGNUS
LIMEROS
“Tell me, Father,” Magnus said, holding tight to the reins of his horse with his gloved hands. “Have you hidden my grandmother in a block of ice? Is that where she’s been all these years?”
The king didn’t reply to this, not that Magnus expected him to. He’d stayed silent for the half day they’d been traveling so far. They’d acquired five horses from the innkeeper before they’d left that morning, and they rode single file, with the king and Milo at the front, Magnus in the middle, and Enzo and Cleo bringing up the rear.
He preferred to ride in front of the princess. Without her constantly in view, he could think without distraction. So far, Magnus could tell they traveled east, but he had no clue as to their final destination.
He wondered if the four men trailing behind them knew?
When the king demanded a rest near a river, Enzo and Milo got to work building a small fire. Magnus slid off his horse and approached his father. He was disturbed that the man looked even worse than when they began—his face as pale as the snow they stood on, so pale he could see the blue and purple veins beneath his skin.
“Amara has soldiers following us,” he said.
“I know,” the king replied.
“Plan to do anything about that? I can’t imagine your new wife would be pleased to know you lied to her about the reason for this journey.”
“I’m sure my new wife would be surprised if I hadn’t.” The king nodded to Enzo and Milo. “Take care of them.”
The guards nodded, mounting their horses, and galloped off without delay.