Amdirlain’s PoV - East Wind’s Court

  While Sarah slept beside her, Amdirlain invested a point into True Song Architecture. The insights that rushed in were more profound than the ones that had caused her to spend days in frantic composition, yet several factors made the jump manageable. The impact of her Songbird Class smoothed the flow of the new information, selectively plucking information out to establish a framework for managing the flood. All three points she spent before Sarah woke provided only singular increases. Yet thousands of compositions flowed into memory crystals. The insights drew her attention to spiritual themes within the East Wind’s lands, but she didn’t fully understand their purpose. There wasn’t a note until after she’d spent the third point.

  [True Song Architecture-Lord [G] (86->87)

  Note: Much to learn and never enough time. It’s something even Ori said to me. There are rules for bestowing knowledge that endlessly frustrate me.]

  Ori set those rules, Gideon, with you.

  While working on extending the spiritual themes in the East Court, she found anchor points for localised Shen that differed from the manifestation of nature spirits. She was still mulling it over when Sarah stirred next to her and draped a decidedly masculine arm around her. During their lovemaking, she had become decidedly male, adopting the pale-skinned male Elf form that Shindraithra had dreamt up, which later contributed to the appearance of many elven species. The dim illumination in the room showed swirls of colour trailing down Sarah’s flank, disappearing under the sheets at hip level.

  “Morning, my love.”

  The words sent a warm desire through Amdirlain, and she brushed silver locks clear before stroking Sarah’s cheek. “You fell asleep. I’m afraid I will have to mark your Elf disguise down.”

  “If my marks are down, I’ll have to go for bonus credit.” Sarah’s hand dipped lower.

  Fortunately for the rest of the house, Amdirlain hadn’t lowered the sound barrier shielding their room.

  The others were already present when they came to the main room later. Cyrus had some texts open on a low table before him while Jinfeng was eating breakfast. Kadaklan and Klipyl sat on opposite sides of another low table, taking turns adding different-coloured dots to a page with identical stamps; so far, it looked like a woman’s arm among flowers, but they’d only filled in one edge.

  Jinfeng looked up from breakfast with a composed expression. “You’re late this morning. Did someone keep you awake, Sarah?”

  “Yeah, she had me up all hours,” laughed Sarah.

  Klipyl smiled. “Dragon stamina must be terrible to deal with, Am. Kadaklan. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “I’m sure they will work it out. I’m learning that pacing and timing are important in many pursuits.”

  Amdirlain playfully snorted before turning to Cyrus. “Shall we use the private reading room, Cyrus?”

  “We should,” replied Cyrus.

  Sarah stole a kiss. “Have fun. I’m going to go annoy the enchanters.”

  She vanished, and Amdirlain projected amusement through their link.

  After Cyrus packed up his texts, Amdirlain jumped them into their private reading room, bypassing security completely.

  Cyrus’s brows jumped. “We should enter through the courtyard. They’ll ask questions if we need anyone to assist us since we’re not signed in. It will also upset their security, knowing you can easily bypass their wards.”

  “Yes, Sifu.” quipped Amdirlain. “But there is a line.”

  “I’ve noticed you are often in a playful mood nowadays.”

  “I won’t paint you a picture on that one.” Amdirlain moved them to the courtyard; Cyrus bit off his reply with the guards and other members of the East Court around them.

  The queue moved quickly, yet the librarian apologised profusely.

  “Can we access the reading room directly?” asked Amdirlain after repeatedly reassuring him.

  Within the illusion, the small quartz piece spun wildly. “I’ll have someone look into it. Please go on through.”

  Cyrus walked through the archives silently until the room’s door closed. “You know that was him being polite and avoiding saying no directly.”

  “I know, but since I had to ask, it mustn’t be within my capabilities.” Amdirlain resumed her research and ignored Cyrus’ bark of laughter.

  ? ? ? ? ? ?

  Amdirlain soaked in the quiet of the library, its gentle serenity stilled nerves that jangled under memory surges. It was late in the day when Gilorn’s voice chimed for her alone. The words had nerves tightening within her.

  “Amdirlain, there is an issue to head off. I’ve tried not to disturb your trip, but can we meet soon?”

  “I’ll come meet with you here.” Within the reply were the musical notes for an isolated location.

  Amdirlain set the latest text aside and carefully bookmarked the line she was researching. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  “It’s not like you to forget something,” Cyrus didn’t look up from his double-checking of her other translations.

  “Gilorn used a sneaky song to contact me. Terrible, isn’t it?”

  “Give Gilorn my regards,” offered Cyrus.

  She bowed and teleported directly to the rendezvous point, the barren island in the Mediterranean Sea where the Gorgon sister Euryálē had been imprisoned. With her awareness extended to take in the East Wind’s region, her reach swept over the Kobold and Lizardman groups and caught scattered crystals in various Dragon lairs. The twists within the crystals’ melodies conveyed the choirs that had created the utensils and various household goods. Nothing within her reach signalled Ori’s involvement, and temptation niggled at her.

  Do I look? The Abyssal Dragon breeds retreated to the Abyss, and they’d have taken their loot.

  Gilorn appeared in her harp form, with sunlight glimmering off her strings and the speckled stars within her dark frame. Lutu was compressed into a tassel that hung from her neck. Roher was next to her, clad in pale blue silken robes that made his emerald gaze and silvery hair stand out.

  As Amdirlain smiled in welcome at the three of them, Lutu dropped free and stretched across the ground, reaching for her. “Hello, mother.”

  Tendrils from Amdirlain’s side scooped Lutu up, and she let out ultrasonic squeals from a thousand mouths. “You have a proper body now, mother.”

  A quick barrier blocked the ultrasonics, preventing the racket from driving seabirds from the island.

  "Good day, Roher and Gilorn. Gilorn, Master Cyrus asked me to give you his regards. Hello, Lutu. Tone down your excitement, please. You’d have scared the seabirds, and life here is hard."

  As they replied, Lutu formed clusters of eyestalks to scan the barren landscape and fronds drooped onto Amdirlain’s shoulders. “Sorry, mother. I’ve been awake this whole time, not wanting to miss you if we got a visit.”

  “You were well-rested from sleeping in the basement.”

  The eyestalks lifted against hundreds of eyes fixed on Amdirlain’s face. “That time doesn’t count since I wasn’t awake for it. Tell me everything you’ve been up to!”

  A soft run of notes emitted from Gilorn. “Lutu. We’ve spoken about manners.”

  “I’m not speaking to an idiot who needs soft pats on the head,” huffed Lutu.

  Roher coughed. “I hope I’m not among those, Lutu.”

  “You and Laleither are alright, Roher.”

  The tension in Roher’s song raised concern within Amdirlain. “Have you got people worried, Lutu?”

  “The presence of a Primal Gorgon makes some Lóm? nervous since a vocal few have memories of deaths at the hands of her species. They keep calm while Lutu shows she can behave in social interactions,” offered Gilorn.

  “Hands?! I‘d use gaze attacks and tentacles to kill them,” corrected Lutu. “Hands are utterly inefficient for killing rapidly and fighting a singer; you need to kill before they can think.”

  Let me change the subject.

  “Would you let me read a battle form with Protean?” asked Amdirlain.

  “You want to mingle with me?!”

  “No,” Amdirlain cut in. “I just want to read how your Protean shapes the Spell Gaze.”

  “But I’d love to have spawnings with you,” protested Lutu.

  Amdirlain chided gently. “Lutu.”

  “Fine,” Lutu sprawled in a thin membrane and consumed what few scraggly bushes clung to the rocky soil.

  “If you’re going to sulk, I’ll just talk to Gilorn.”

  “But mother!” whined Lutu.

  “Lutu, why are you acting like a Human teenager?”

  “Gail told me about her memories, and I studied the humans a bit.” The tips of some of Lutu’s tentacles tapped against each other softly. “Given our relative ages of existence, it seemed suitable.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” replied Amdirlain. “How about you behave like you used to for Orhêthurin?”

  “Whatever,” Lutu formed into a column covered in a few dozen eyestalks, each of which gave an exaggerated eye roll.

  Amdirlain’s right arm transformed into a tentacle, and she encircled Lutu, reading her physical makeup and the structures within the eye stalks. A scattering of muffled giggles emanated from the column, and Amdirlain enfolded Lutu completely.

  Once Amdirlain had contained Lutu, Gilorn said, “You seem to have Protean progressing nicely.”

  She ignored the rapid advances in her Protean as it read Lutu’s continually shifting make-up.

  As the Lutu waggled back and forth, Amdirlain concealed their conversation. “Did I lumber you with too much?”

  “Lutu has been waiting patiently for word that we were going to meet,” replied Gilorn. “She isn’t the source of what I hoped to discuss.”

  “What is the problem, then?” Amdirlain looked between Roher and Gilorn. “Have there been problems with the Lóm?? Or the work?”

  “Not problems per se, but some have memories of the singing being easier and vocally wondered what happened,” said Roher. “Especially with Gilorn’s obvious superiority, the questions have repeatedly arisen. Will the powers ever improve? Why can’t we still do what our memories show us?”

  I shouldn’t have put Gilorn together with the Lóm?.

  “The songbird broke the path for those without loyalty to the Titan,” said Amdirlain. “What does requesting more after they resumed singing less than two years ago demonstrate?”

  “Gail also sees the broken path,” observed Roher.

  “Did she ask about Gilorn?”

  “No, she enjoys singing with me and trusts in you.” Gilorn’s stars blazed with fierce pride.

  “The others see her even more of a child, despite her self-acquired title.”

  “One you took as responsible for situations not of her making. The Titan didn’t ask her to prove her loyalty, and she used True Song for her goals and adventures that were not in the realm’s plan. Her strength of True Song allows her to live a happy and fulfilling life, far more than I hoped she might. She doesn’t need a stronger version of True Song than what the Lóm? possess, unless she takes up that work, and in that case, even Gail must prove she’s fit. Some argued that even the versions you possess remained too strong.”

  “Who?”

  “Gideon and the other aspects wanted the songbird to expunge it in a fashion that prevented it from ever being reinstated,” offered Amdirlain. “In Gideon’s terms, the extrapolations show that individuals prone to betrayal will repeat that behaviour. The distinction lies in seeking justification versus convenience. The biggest hurt of betrayal isn’t from the blade in your back; it’s seeing the betrayer’s face.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Amdirlain,” breathed Roher, regret colouring his mind.

  “What did you tell them?”

  Roher frowned. “To wait and see.”

  “Did you say that or the councils?”

  “It was the consensus of the councils.”

  “They’re asking for more power, and the councils’ answer was to wait and see.” Amdirlain closed her eyes as themes of screaming rage that dwarfed hurricanes surged in her Soul, carrying glimpses of bitterness and despair. “Words fail me. Orhêthurin waited for billions of years, hoping that some among the Anar and Lóm? would return to the Titan’s endeavours, only to be disappointed. You were born before Mori. She spent a billion years trying to get the Anar crown, seeking to become queen to influence a return. Roher, what did you do during that time? What did others do?”

  Roher looked away, his eyes downcast.

  “Sorry, Roher, that was unfair. You were oath-bound to the royal family. The final choice was always theirs, but did anyone campaign for them to reverse the decision? Anyway, why did the councils stick you with this?”

  “I’m the logical choice, since I know you best,” replied Roher. “We can do better.”

  “I’m sorry, Roher, but I won’t guarantee you or they get anything returned. I can’t even be certain what state I’ll be in if I survive to clear my curse.” Amdirlain motioned to their surroundings. “You have the ability to transform desolate areas into thriving paradises and lead a content life free of need. How many species can say that? Those wanting their prior abilities must accept that Nicholaus no longer requires them. Their contribution will speed up the realm’s progress, but it’s not essential.”

  He saw the writing on the wall and let them leave peacefully.

  “Why did you close your eyes, Amdirlain?”

  “I don’t even see through them anymore. Things have changed a lot since we last spoke, and at present, I’m focused on other matters than translating the energy hitting my irises.”

  Roher slumped atop a nearby boulder. “What should I tell them?”

  Like it or lump it? No, think positive; we can sort this out.

  “That the Lóm? bother to ask, instead of stating what will be, is a tiny improvement. Did you ask Erwarth why she took that name? She talked about being the choir leader who delivered Balnérith’s aid offer, but I can tell it’s not the whole reason.”

  He bowed his head further, but Amdirlain waited patiently. “That she was a betrayer for abandoning the Titan’s work.”

  “Betrayal leaves a bitter mark, and things are always different in context. Nicholaus’s cousins betrayed him when he was born, then again when they found Hestia had given him refuge. They betrayed him a third time when they learned he’d escaped and had a family. They took love and hope from him repeatedly.”

  Amdirlain felt a soft presence suddenly observing them; it brought up memories of his earthy fur scent, gentle hugs, and regret twisted a knife through her guts.

  “We didn’t know,” protested Roher.

  He flinched at a snap like granite breaking, and Amdirlain waited for her teeth to heal. Her voice was the barest of whispers.

  “Why should he tell you his pain when it wasn’t yours to bear? His only request was for you to live your life and for those who enjoyed the work to contribute where they wanted. I threw a tantrum when I visited last and threw my strength in your face. It was childish.”

  The same as their questions.

  Roher offered a reassuring smile. “It was understandable.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I was dealing with some issues and feeling emotionally unstable. While the source of it wasn’t all mine, I let out that pain and rage instead of keeping it leashed. I am choosing to contain it now, as there was no excuse for the tantrum or power flex.”

  “Then I don’t understand why you bring it up.”

  In disbelief, she wanted to shake her head but settled for racking her fingers through her hair. “Because I was in the wrong, Roher, so I apologise. I’d planned to come months ago, but I’ve had other impacts on my senses and Soul, and I still don’t trust how I’ll react in a situation digging at that old sorrow. I hear the nova strength of its bitter dirge flailing me whenever I consider what to say, and I selfishly wanted a little time of happiness to heal, so I kept putting it off.”

  “No apology is necessary, and the event is a blip between us given all the aeons. It brought to light attitudes we’d ignored, even though I told you we’d listen to each other’s songs.” Roher tapped his right hand against his chest, tight with frustration.

  “No apology is necessary? Roher, I feel that is part of what the Lóm? don’t get. When did any Lóm? admit or say you were wrong to Nicholaus? Not to me, to him, and not using the distant title that everyone uses as if he’s not a person who hasn’t known aeons of pain, grief, and loneliness? He is a Primordial, and he can hear you when you say his name.”

  “You said his name multiple times, and I can’t feel him listening,” observed Roher.

  “Only the primordials understand their capabilities. The Platinum Dragon was eavesdropping on me without my knowledge.”

  Roher gripped the boulder’s rough surface, his knuckles going white. “The oath to Tarlangeth was nullified.”

  Amdirlain sighed and tried to be analytical amid the screaming notes shifting inside her. “The ancient Lóm? were so willing to give their freedom up. Nicholaus never asked for any oaths. He requested everyone to decide individually if they would help him and promised aid for all. The Lóm? collectively decided to offer a Soul oath to another Lóm? while working for him, and he did not object to that decision. After the Anar and Lóm? ceased their work, they demanded he promise not to interfere with any of the worlds inhabited by the species. You at least know what part of that cost since Orhêthurin continued to live among you.”

  “What do you mean ‘part’? She was the Titan’s Songbird. You told me that after I heard your crystal in Xaos,” said Roher.

  Amdirlain raised an eyebrow. “Roher, do you want to know more details about Orhêthurin with what you’re already keeping from Laleither?”

  “Would I rest easier?”

  “I doubt it. I’m certain you already realise there is a lot you didn’t know about her. Let’s leave it at that,” said Amdirlain. “At the very least, she was the only one that continued the work even after her Soul was mauled twice.”

  “We should have protested her imprisonment, but it happened quickly,” sighed Roher

  Amdirlain’s composure frayed. “Demonstrate to Nicholaus that you’ve all improved, justifying the restoration. What have the Lóm? done to receive the ability to create planets and stars and not just shape their biomes?”

  Her mouth twisted into a bitter line at the screaming themes battering the boundaries of her Soul, their energy clawing and engorging the conduits to her spiritual net. “You just told me that Orhêthurin’s situation with the Anar King and the sentencing happened too quickly to protest. The Lóm? haven’t returned to singing for two years and they already want results.”

  A low groan escaped her lips as Amdirlain took in the sharp music coming off Gilorn. She bit her cheek to silence the rage filled words that wanted to spill out.

  Amdirlain deliberately whispered to squash the urge. “Have they finished working on the planets?”

  “Not all of them,” admitted Roher.

  Amdirlain reformed completely into her elven form and looked over the still giggling Lutu.

  “I don’t possess the perspective of someone who has lived for millions or even thousands of years. I’ll point out that the more they lean on the others in their choir, the longer it will take to improve and that I spent thirteen years killing undead for a fraction of the power they’re asking to be restored. Would you invite the councils here? Lutu, please resume your tassel form.”

  She hooked back into Gilorn’s frame without complaint.

  Roher lurched upright. “But I thought-”

  “Roher, why should I make you carry my reply or give my apology? There are so few of them the councils should hear it directly. Please invite them to hear my response. When you feel it's suitable, please raise the topic of an apology to Nicholaus.”

  Roher sent a message and in surprisingly short order, the councils she’d heard on her visit had assembled across the rocky terrain. Among them was Laleither, who Amdirlain had thought focused on being a mother. Within their minds, some expected her to grant them what had been requested, and Amdirlain clamped tight on the hurricane of furious razor-edged notes that blasted through her spiritual net.

  Amdirlain stood on a boulder, visible to everyone on the uneven ground. “Thank you all for coming so promptly. My apologies for disturbing your day, but I want to address the topic the councils asked Roher to raise. First, I want to apologise for my behaviour when I visited the Lóm? community. My situation aside, it was still unbecoming behaviour. While I intend to apologise to the whole community in person, I’m still struggling with other matters that make it hard to consider adding the strain of apologising to a larger group. Please convey my apologies and reassurance I’ll see to doing so in person when I’m in a healthier state.”

  There was a smug undertone within a minority of the council while the majority nodded their acceptance and reassurance.

  Roher cleared his throat. “Maybe explain the reasons—it’s not fair to you to give a blanket apology.”

  Though Amdirlain wasn’t inclined to share, she nodded politely. “Aside my ongoing situation, Orhêthurin’s disappointment from billions of years rages inside me, making it hard to think rationally around large numbers of Lóm?. I don’t have her knowledge of the long-term relationships to temper that anger, and I’m sure no one can understand the depth of betrayal she felt. My friendships among you are few, and it’s a fragile storm anchor. The smug, self-assured attitude some of you are projecting doesn’t make that easier. Roher didn’t get me under control, I had always intended to apologise, but life hasn’t been simple, and I’ve matters besides the Lóm? on my plate. Shall I move along, or would any of you care to say anything?”

  Amdirlain's attention locked onto the closest offenders, and she smiled.

  She kept the weight of her charisma locked away, but the couple dressed in green and silver finery swallowed at the line of teeth—memories of dragons opening their maws stirred within them as Muse’s Embrace raised unintended dread. The male tugged at his voluminous sleeves while his wife’s fingers twitched across the ends of her crimson braid. They nearly spoke simultaneously, but with a quick glance, the man smoothly spoke. “It’s gracious of you to apologise. Perhaps we can all put it behind us and move on.”

  The councils murmured their ascent, though some looked at the male in disbelief or scorn.

  “The matter Roher raised: People have repeatedly asked when they might regain their former strength. Did any of you ask Gilorn how long she spent singing with Orhêthurin after her creation? She wasn’t given her capabilities. Gilorn strained and worked to earn them. The songbird entrusted her-”

  “Gilorn has both sides of the True Song.”

  The petulance oozed from the speaker, and Amdirlain felt a burning desire to pluck out his vocal chords. Instead, she smiled.

  “That’s because the songbird prepared to die after your previous selves abandoned the work; Orhêthurin wasn’t the only one who felt betrayed. The songbird sought a partial replacement. You always refer to them as the Titan’s Songbird, as if they were secondary to him, but they designed the realm Nicholaus has continued to build. Do any of you remember how Nicholaus’s voice sounds? The bass rumble that can shake the ground when he speaks at a normal volume to us.”

  “His voice is like listening to the roots of an impossibly deep mountain.” One of the council offered a few notes that made Adamantine seem fragile.

  Amdirlain smiled warmly, and Orhêthurin’s love for her gruff father rose, a fresh breeze against the turmoil of rage. “Songbird was his nickname for them because everything around him is delicate, and their Primordial Will was expressed through music. Their strength differed from his, but they were not only the equal creator of the realm but its designer.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Aitherlar the Eternal recalls the Songbird’s presence at her creation. In her words, when the Songbird spoke, the realm listened and the other primordials fell silent. Let’s address strength alone. Does anyone care to guess how many millennia and millions of projects Gilorn worked on while gaining her strength? Did anyone bother to ask?”

  The embarrassment that surged through their themes was clear enough.

  “I won’t put anyone on the spot to answer. Instead, I’m offering you a gift as part of my apology. When you come to your coming-of-age ceremony, a song is used to restore the memories that your life has attuned you to. However, those memories are fragmented and sometimes lack context. Who wants memories that make them feel alien in their skin while barely adults? All of you are well past adulthood and set in your personality, so I’m offering you an opportunity. I’ll only give it right here. It’s a chance to remember what the initial incarnation of our souls was like and the training they undertook to develop True Song in their first centuries of life. I offer this so you can lead your people.”

  Amdirlain restrained a biting comment as the councils reacted with disbelief. Roher nodded, only just beating Laleither.

  “Did you think the Anar and Lóm? were all magically granted their peak abilities? This realm doesn’t give freely; everything is earned beyond the potential to achieve, including the Anar and Lóm?’s initial strength. None of you have actually reached the peak of what your current powers allow because it’s hard, and you rely on large choirs instead of your own strength.”

  Roher spoke up to still the muttering among the council. “How do we get stronger?”

  “If you want it fast? Sing unsupported, sing yourself bloody, create to your limits, have someone heal you, then rest and do it all over again until you gather the needed insights while working on the Titan’s projects. The amount of blood I’ve lost while singing could fill lakes. Orhêthurin could have matched the mass of stars from the blood she lost. Some among the initial groves worked hard, while others took the easy way, blending in with the choirs and slowly growing their strength with theirs. I won’t promise success if you take the fast route without understanding, as those blind to reality don’t gain insights. I’d suggest you unlearn what you think you know, and instead of asking when you will get it, ask Gilorn the best ways to learn.”

  Amdirlain looked over the councils and their range of emotions, fighting as the rage stirred again behind her composed expression.

  “Roher and Laleither accepted my offer of the memories. Is there seriously no one else?”

  After the strained silence had extended for long minutes, she began. The notes evoked the memories from within Roher and Laleither, but she carefully set them behind gated conditions.

  “Roher and Laleither, the memories will come up during reverie. The meditative state will allow you to experience decades in an evening.”

  A cry came from the back of those assembled. “How does an Anar stir the memories of a Lóm??”

  “That was tradition, not necessity. Since no one else accepted the offer of remembering those years of their first life, it's now gone. I appreciate you all for coming, and I’ll let you get back to your day.”

  Understanding her dismissal, the councils and Roher left.

  “You mentioned you were seeking a world similar to Veht?,” said Gilorn. “I went digging, using the song to contact Gideon while checking the crystals with the Orrery. I’ve found some planets where life was left to stew but developed nothing beyond single-cell organisms. Their suns are older than you’d prefer, but they have a few billion years before expanding.”

  “Thanks, you, Gilorn,” replied Amdirlain. “Locate a peaceful spot for Lutu to nap, away from the Lóm?.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Lutu trumpeted her reply from a score of mouths.

  Gilorn hesitated before strumming out the notes for the planets and vanished.

  Alone, emotions she’d held back throughout the conversation choked up in the back of Amdirlain’s throat. Even though she could only hear the energy of her physical response, it felt so familiar that her mind recognised the churning sensation and acidic bile in her throat.

  “Nicholaus, I’m sorry you were left here alone. I know all the aspects have a focus that gives them a reason to help, but I hope some at least feel like family. Orhêthurin hated you being sealed in the spire, and she hated herself for the part she played. Yet I wonder how hard watching your daughter’s pain, my pain, and not being able to hold her must have been for you. I release you from all the promises you made to or for Orhêthurin. Do what you want to do. I hope to speak to my Pat?r face to face again one day, and I’ll get M?tēr’s and the boy’s souls back from wherever Hades hid them. Gideon, I don’t know if you made any promises to or for Orhêthurin.”

  Amdirlain was trying to control her tears when a notification came.

  [Achievement: Nicholaus at a standstill.

  Details: For the first time in aeons, he utterly stopped.

  Note: It didn’t last long, but he stopped, gave a pleased grunt and started again. He wants me to tell you sorry as well. The mistakes weren’t Orhêthurin’s alone, and his pride played a part. He’s uncertain if they should get all True Song back, but Orhêthurin already set the conditions for that access.

  Addendum: He told me not to mention any of his tears in my notes, so I didn’t.

  Addendum: I hated Orhêthurin for giving up and following Kronos’ vision instead of fighting for her happiness. When you returned, I wanted you to fight for it. Neither Orhêthurin nor you asked for promises, but I have all the knowledge of the realm. This isn’t an apology. You always turned your rage into a blade of focus and might need a kick since you’ve been lazy lately.]

  I remember her joy at your manifestation, Gideon.

  Amdirlain took on a smaller version of Lutu’s form, duplicating an iris and its internal Spell formations. She allowed Mana from the surroundings to flood through the eye, and a raw mana bolt gouged into the earth.

  [Skill Unlocked: Spell Gaze

  Spell Gaze (1)

  Mana Mastery [S] (147->148)]

  She experimented for a time, letting out the boiling rage behind an illusionary barrier; as the eyes she formed unleashed their effects, she cast spells on her own. The desolate landscape shuddered under the onslaught. With clouds of dust choking the air, Amdirlain restored the landscape and settled the dust before she reappeared in the library.

  Cyrus nodded. “Was there a problem?”

  “I need to address a few issues, and I have the specifics for potential planetary alignment.”

  Her casual tone raised Cyrus’s brows. “Your playful mood now feels like a thunderstorm.”

  “I’ll rein in the rage.” Amdirlain smiled and reached for a book.