The Prophet: Book One - False Gods

By Don Newton

In a strange multiverse ruled by magic and immortals, the last remaining souls, fleeing the destruction of Earth, struggle to survive. The Draggons want them dead. The gods want more power. But the humans want to live, and there’s only one sorceress who can make that happen. The fate of humanity is in her hands – so, no pressure...

Gods always want more power...

The Civil War fractured their world, and the gods just made it worse. Now their followers are split into four separate factions, and they all hate each other. Riots and bombings force further divisions among them, and the leaders are at a loss about what to do. Most of them, anyway.

Heroes are sometimes girls...

Alisha Callus rose through the sorceress ranks, mastering the Orphic currents and learning to bend space and reality to her will. Now, she’s the last Adeptus Supreme on Erador, and she has to kill a god. But she’s not sure she can.

Gods don’t like to be killed...

But sometimes, they deserve it.

Can one Sorceress, two Draggons, four warriors, and a god crush this evil influence from existence? Follow this ragtag band of heroes on an epic quest to free their world from an immortal’s vicious grasp. Who knows, they might do it...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Don Newton
• Release date: Oct 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463063460

Don Newton

Don Newton is a writer and armchair philosopher, author of the science fantasy trilogy “The Prophet”, and short stories too numerous to count. Don has been in love with science fiction and fantasy his entire life. The first alternate world he created was the result of a sixth-grade essay assignment, and he’s been hooked ever since. That world has grown and transformed into an entire multi-verse of possibilities to explore. Don’s not just a writer though, he has hobbies too: like making up funnier lyrics to popular songs. He sings them to himself when no one’s around—especially in the car. Don has a degree in Nursing and he’s a certified Paramedic. Six years in the Army sent him to places as diverse as Hawaii and Germany, where he was awarded the Army Achievement Medal for conduct above and beyond the call of duty. Having lived in nine different states and two foreign countries, he now calls the desert southwest home.

Book preview

The Prophet

Book One

False Gods

Now Includes

The Trial of Sa’riya

Copyright 2019 - Don Newton

Act One

The bonds that held her were tight: luminescent silver, purple, and white bands of energy wrapping around her holding her still. She couldn’t move her arms or legs, but she could turn her head. There was no pain, but the stricture of the energy-bands compressed her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She tried to free herself, but they’d sealed her inside her human form and struggle as she might, she couldn’t break free—but then, she wasn’t trying. Sa’riya knew if she thought herself away, they couldn’t stop her, but it was time to deal with this…

The dais she stood upon was white stone and circular. Two steps descended to a flat floor of black granite. Her accusers sat behind a low metal wall, in high-backed leather thrones, two on the left, and two on the right.

Nu’reen sat in the center behind a huge wooden bench; she was a young woman right now, dark hair and luminous green eyes. Her white robes glowed in the dim light. The gavel in her hand smacked the top of the bench, echoing throughout the chamber with a hollow thwack! "I understand you want to face these charges…" she said, her eyes blazing with silver fire.

I do. Sa’riya nodded.

And you won’t attempt to flee? Nu’reen asked.

I won’t.

Can we remove the bonds, please? Nu’reen scanned the faces of the Council. They exchanged glances and nods. Three of them waved one hand in the air; the multicolored bands surrounding Sa’riya dissolved. Besides, we all know she could leave anytime she wants…

I’ll stay; you have my word.

That’s good enough for me. Nu’reen smiled.

Jurak leaned forward in his chair, the golden tassels woven into his hair, brushing his cheeks, and pointed one slender finger at her. You say you want to face the charges. Are you aware of the penalty if we find you guilty?

Nu’reen pounded the gavel against the wood of her bench. "The honorable D’jinn Councilor will refrain from asking direct questions of the accused… that’s what we have Inquisitors for."

Jurak sat back and glared at her, the purple shine in his eyes amplified.

Nu’reen turned back to Sa’riya. But you do understand, don’t you?

Yes. Sa’riya nodded.

Ok, then, Nu’reen turned to her left and pointed at a Draggon guard who stood beside the door, bring in the Inquisitor and Defender.

***

Twelve years earlier…

Karl pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocked it against his bowstring. He drew the string back, aiming down the shaft at the deer drinking from the stream below. He took a long slow breath and exhaled. He felt the bite of the string—the pressure of the arrow between his fingertips. Before he released it, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Why would you want to kill that beautiful creature?

The sudden interruption made him jerk the bow: the arrow went wide, bouncing off a tree trunk and startling the deer; it ran into the woods and disappeared. He spun around, hot, and ready to fight.

"What on Erador are you trying to—" His mouth fell open in awe—she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen: her hair was black as midnight and silky-smooth, piercing blue eyes held him in place. She wore a pure white robe with silver thread sewn into the seams. He shook his head—she seemed to shine in the dim forest light. She smiled at him, and it warmed his heart.

—do? She finished his question. I’m trying to keep you from killing a defenseless animal.

Who are you, he slung the bow over one shoulder, And where did you come from?

She picked up the folds of her robe and leaned against a large boulder. I’m no one to trifle with, young man.

Karl laughed. Young man? You’re the same age as me or close…

Why do you have this desire to kill animals? She crossed her arms and wrinkled her forehead. I’ve never understood that.

I don’t desire to kill animals; I desire to eat.

"There are other things to eat, you know…" She raised her eyebrows.

What do you eat? he asked.

My dietary choices are not at question here, she said, besides, my needs differ from yours. I’m trying to understand your murderous intentions, that’s all.

You didn’t answer my second question. Karl sat on the ground and crossed his legs. He pulled a blade of grass and chewed on it. Actually, you didn’t answer the first one.

She sat across from him on a smooth patch of soft green grass. He watched her move: from standing to sitting, a symphony of motion, and he longed for more.

She brushed the hair away from her face. My name is Sa’riya.

That’s beautiful; I’m Karl.

I know who you are. She laced her fingers and laid them in her lap.

Then you have me at a disadvantage. Karl sat and watched her for a moment, not saying anything. Why are you out here? We’re in the middle of the woods.

I wanted to meet you. She smiled.

Then, I’m pleased to meet you, Sa’riya. He stood and took her hand, pulling her from the ground. Would you come with me to my village and meet my kin, as well?

I’m sorry, I can’t… She stared at the ground and shook her head.

He released her hand and turned away. Oh, I thought…

"No, it’s not that I don’t want to, she touched his arm with her fingertips; it felt like electricity to him, but in a good way, I can’t right now."

Karl nodded and smiled. I understand. Are you going to be anywhere close to here, say, tomorrow?

She walked away into the trees, looking over her shoulder, a thin smile taunting him.

Maybe...

***

And that was the first time you met him? Darkonus pulled the chair away from the wall, spun it around, and straddled it. The silver buckles securing his black leather armor flashed, and the fire in his Draggon-eyes intensified, staring at Sa’riya.

Yes, she said.

"You never met him, never talked to him, even one time before, in the twelve years you watched him?"

No, I never did.

So, why that one time? He leaned across the chair-back toward her. "What was so important about that moment that you had to reveal yourself?"

Nu’reen banged the gavel on wood. Does the Inquisitor have a direction for this line of questioning, she glared at Darkonus, "or are you trying to catch fish?"

Darkonus pushed the chair away and stood facing the Council. He looked at Markus: the Draggon Councilor, who shook his head. He glanced at Jurak—they’d always hated each other, the Draggons and the D’jinn; he couldn’t count on him. The Fae’rie didn’t hate the Draggons, but they had no love for them either, he looked at Caree and smiled, but turned to the K’pa elder, the supposedly neutral one.

Ka’rin, must you tie my hands with this whelp? He pointed at Nu’reen.

Ka’rin waved her hand at Nu’reen, who had the gavel held high and stood to face Darkonus.

Listen, Draggon. She leaned on the metal wall and stared at him. You serve here at our pleasure. Just do your job…

He watched the silver flame in her eyes and nodded, turning back to Sa’riya. I’ll rephrase the question and make it more direct. He sat in his chair, and his eyes narrowed. "Were you in love with him at that moment?"

"I can’t say when it started," she said.

So it might have been earlier?

"It’s possible. Once you love someone, it gets harder to remember when you first felt it: it’s like it always was."

What’s the next memory you have before that? he asked.

I’m not sure, let me think…

Karl was unconscious, his face submerged in water at the edge of the creek. He’d fallen from the cliff above: it wasn’t high, but stones had intercepted his head on the descent. Now he lay there, drowning, a bubbly-white froth rising up his cheek, mixing with the blood pouring down his head.

Sa’riya grabbed his hair and pulled him out. She rolled him onto one side and smacked him on the back, trying to get him to breathe. He coughed up water and struggled to inhale. She made sure he would live and disappeared into the woods.

Jemma watched Darkonus saunter back-and-forth between Sa’riya and the Council members; he brushed the black shoulder-length hair from his face.

And that’s the extent of your contact before the first meeting, he asked, you saved his life?

Yes.

What does this have to do with the charges against her? Jemma left her chair and walked to the dais; she took Sa’riya’s hand and glared at the Council members. Are we going to ask her about every single day in her life? She’s already said she broke your law; can’t we accept that and move on?

"Aren’t you supposed to be defending her?" Darkonus laughed.

You have your strategy; I have mine. Jemma glared at him.

Nu’reen banged the gavel. Sa’riya has stipulated her guilt, Darkonus, assume she hasn’t changed her mind. Ok?

Darkonus nodded and rubbed his beard with one hand. He turned to Nu’reen with a questioning look. So, if she’s admitted her guilt, why are we even here?

Because she has the right to plead for an exception to the law she’s broken, or leniency if that’s denied. Nu’reen rolled her eyes at him. How did you get picked as Inquisitor if you don’t know the procedures?

"Nobody asked me if I knew the procedures…" He shrugged and smiled.

Well, now, you do. We’re here to determine if Sa’riya had cause to do what she’s done. If we determine her actions could’ve been avoided, then we’ll find her guilty. On the other hand, if there’s a valid reason for what she’s done, we can make an exception.

"So, establishing she had no cause to fall in love with this human… how am I supposed to prove that? He leaned on the low metal wall with both hands and stared at them, his pupils alive with dancing flame. You’re asking me to prove she didn’t care for him?"

"I won’t tell you how to present your case; that’s your job; she spun the gavel in her hand and pointed the handle at him, but taking a human mate is not the only charge."

Oh? There’s another? He glanced at Sa’riya. I wasn’t aware.

It was a last-minute addition. Sa’riya glared at Markus—he looked away.

"And I have to protest… Jemma said, there was more good than harm done, after all."

The violation is in the act, not the result. Caree slid to the edge of her chair; she’d been silent, so it drew everyone’s attention. Because the dagger you throw misses, it doesn’t absolve your intent to kill.

Ka’rin looked at her and nodded agreement. True. Zocor said it best: the mind holds the truth, and the truth is in the intent.

Darkonus shook his head and sighed. Ok, so you all have this mystical saying you like because it sounds profound… what is the second charge?

Nu’reen looked at Sa’riya. Would you like to tell him?

Sa’riya folded her hands together and nodded.

Darkonus raised his eyebrows. Well?

They say I interfered with the basic laws of matter: I changed reality, and interrupted a natural process. I did save about three million people… but my sister was killed…

***

The southern face of Krasus Cauldron was aglow with the reddish-tinged light of the morning suns: the red sun now peeking above the horizon, following the yellow on its daily trek across the sky.

Darryl stood at the edge of the rock ledge flanked by two Griffins, pointing the tip of Sinreaver at the two Draggons in front of him. The Draggons looked at the sword, and Griffin claws and froze.

That’s wise. Darryl grinned. Carion, Shera, if they move, kill them.

The Griffins made a trilling sound and took one step toward the Draggons, their heads down, and the tips of their wings trembling in anticipation. Razor claws scratching the rocky ledge. The Draggons backed up.

Darryl turned to check on his brother’s progress with the Council guard.

Karl raised Bloodrender above his left shoulder and swung down hard; the blade carved a sharp flashing arc through the air—stray drops of Draggonfire flying from the edge. The Draggon tried to dodge, but the sword cut a flaming gash across its right thigh. Roaring in pain, the fire in its eyes intensified, focusing on the Na’Geena Chieftain.

The Draggon made the mistake of breathing fire upon the sword: it was legendary, and all the Draggons knew what it could do. Bloodrender was dangerous even when it wasn’t on fire; all three of the Na’Geena swords were: they might absorb and redirect Draggonfire, but they were also one of only three things which could cut Draggonskin.

The beast circled Karl, limping to his left, trying to find an opening in the Chieftain’s defense—there was none.

You’ll let me inside this Council chamber, Karl growled at the Draggon, or I’ll go through you.

The Draggon shifted into its human form: the scales and teeth and the twenty-foot lizard body morphing into a young man grimacing in pain. He clutched the bleeding-smoldering gash on his leg and shook his head at Karl. Markus would kill me, or Darkonus…

"I could kill you right now, Karl said, and save them the trouble if you like, but I’m still going inside."

The Draggon limped to the cliff wall and leaned against it, waving Karl past with one hand. Be my guest…

Karl glanced at Darryl.

Don’t worry. Darryl pointed toward the archway carved into the side of the mountain. I have this covered, go. These Draggons are right where I want them.

Karl sheathed Bloodrender and stepped through the arch.

The pain made him scream. It felt as though his body was being pulled apart one molecule at a time: fire ran through his limbs, burning all the connections. The reverse was true on the other side, where his atoms smashed together again, reforming the burned and ripped apart body into a whole once more. He wound up on his knees on hard black granite, his hands clutching his chest; smoke belched from his lungs when he finally caught a breath.

"Humans really shouldn’t use that…"

He looked at Nu’reen as his vision cleared; she had a look of mild concern on her face.

Sa’riya ran to him and picked him up from the floor, her hands on his cheeks pulling his face to hers. Are you okay?

Karl shook the cobwebs from his head and threw his arms around her. I’m fine, or I will be.

"You shouldn’t be here." Darkonus stepped toward him.

Karl drew Bloodrender and aimed it at him—the blade still burned with Draggonfire: drops of it fell from the edge, igniting the stone where they landed—sizzling plumes of molten granite rising into the air between them.

"Ok, maybe we can overlook this…" The Draggon stepped back and took his seat.

What gives you the right to abduct my wife? He faced the Council, examining their faces. Why shouldn’t I kill you all right now?

Because it would be ridiculous to believe you could, for one. Jurak smiled. But, by all means, give it your best.

Order! Nu’reen slammed the gavel against the wood and pointed at the D’jinn. You sit down.

Jurak spun and glared at her. Don’t speak to me with that tone.

You’ve all agreed; my decisions are final. Now sit down and shut up! Nu’reen shifted into a much older version of herself: gray hair and wrinkled skin, but the silver fire in her eyes grew brighter, and a luminous halo circled her head. The light from the halo ran down and lit her robe, making it fluoresce in the dim light of the Council chamber. "Is this better, Jurak? Do you accept my rulings in this form?"

Jurak took his seat and stared at the floor, his arms across his chest.

Nu’reen looked at Karl, the softness returning to her face. Sa’riya, take him out… and explain, she pointed at the archway, and then return.

You can’t let her go! Markus jumped to his feet and turned on Nu’reen.

She’s given her word, and that’s all I need. The silver flame intensified again as she stared at the Draggon, the halo pulsed in time with her breathing. "Are you going to challenge me as well?"

Markus looked at Darkonus, who tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows.

Not yet… Markus said.

Well, you let me know when you change your mind. She banged the gavel. In the meantime, let’s take a twenty-minute recess until Sa’riya gets back.

***

Sa’riya held him inside a protective shield when they passed through the arch, which negated some pain, but not all of it. Darryl and the Griffins still held the Draggons at bay: they had them backed up to the edge of the rock shelf, a thousand-foot drop behind them.

Let them go, Darryl. Sa’riya pointed at them. You three, leave us.

The Draggons shifted form and took flight, headed toward the top of the volcano. The Griffins looked disappointed, shaking their eagle heads, and scratching the stone with talons and lion claws in protest.

It’s okay, boys, Darryl rubbed their beaks, maybe we can kill a Draggon later today…

The Griffins trilled an understanding and sat their lion backsides on the hard stone of the ledge, watching the two Na’Geena warriors and Sa’riya.

Sa’riya grabbed Karl’s face in her hands. You shouldn’t have come; I know what I’m doing.

They’ll kill you, Sa’riya! Karl grabbed her wrists. How am I supposed to stand by and let that happen?

There are things you don’t know, she said, and I can’t explain right now. Do you trust me?

You have to ask? He let her go and turned away, looking out across the expanse of Purgatory Steppes below: time-locked volcanic rock. The badlands stretched as far as he could see—folded waves of cooled lava frozen in time—a violent sea of unmoving stone.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. Of course not. But I need to rely on your trust right now.

What is it you’re not telling me? he asked.

"I still can’t tell you for your safety and mine. She reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew a large crystal: it was the size of her palm, and it held a bright silver fire inside it. She placed it in his hands and wrapped her own around them. Keep this safe. Break it two days from now where we first met."

He searched her face for the clues she wasn’t giving him. He slid the crystal into one pocket and pulled her close, squeezing her hard. I hope you know what you’re doing…

I do. She turned to Darryl. Take care of him…

Darryl put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Well, we both know he can’t take care of himself, so…

They turned away and walked to the Griffins, throwing one leg over their backs and grasping the riding cord strapped around their chests. The beasts stretched their wings and launched themselves into the air, their screeches echoing from the mountainside.

Sa’riya watched them fly away until they were out of sight, then she turned and headed back toward the arch, wiping a single tear from her cheek.

***

Damian Callus couldn’t remember a time when humans hadn’t been at war with the Draggons. He was thirty-five years old, and every year was filled with memories of blood and violence. His father had fought them, his grandfather too. His younger brother, Vernon, was leading the defense of Thalos Plains right now: he hadn’t seen him in months. War has a way of separating families.

They’d tried reasoning with the Draggons, but it’s challenging to have a reasonable discussion with someone trying to kill you, and so they fought on, with no end in sight.

The Na’Geena were their saving grace; without them and their weapons made from fallen Griffin claws, humans might have died out long ago. But just because they had allies in those Draggon-slaying warriors, that didn’t mean they were safe—far from it. The Draggons took the alliance with the Na’Geena as a personal insult: them being their chief enemy.

I’m sorry, Captain, am I boring you?

It took Damian a few seconds to realize he was the target of the question, lost in daydreams. He sat up in his chair and leaned on the edge of the conference table, focusing his attention on General Haley. No, sir, sorry, I remembered something…

Anything to do with this operation? Haley asked.

No, sir, it was nothing, I apologize.

Well, get your head in the game! Your team may have the highest success ratio of all the covert-ops units, but something this bold has never been tried—it won’t be easy.

I’m with you, sir. Damian smiled.

Garrick poked him in the ribs and grinned. Damian slapped his hand away.

The General continued. As I was saying, our intelligence is based partly on observation, and partly on magic.

Magic? Kain focused his good eye on the General, absent-mindedly rubbing the scar that ran from his forehead to his jaw and sewed the other eye closed.

Yes. Haley pushed his chair back and stood. Seems we have an ally in one of the Gods.

Which one? Damian asked.

That would be me. Kavan walked into the General’s office from the adjacent sitting-room, wearing gold robes and carrying a polished metal staff with a dull black gem embedded in one end—he waved his hand at them when they tried to stand. Don’t get up.

Kavan, Haley caught the blistering look Kavan aimed at him, "Lord Kavan, has agreed to assist us in this operation: it’s the only way you can get inside undetected."

How do we even know that Darkonus will be there? Garrick turned to Kavan, who’d walked to the window. The reddish-yellow light from the suns gleamed off the side of his shaven head. He spun around and aimed a black-eyed glare at Garrick. "Because I’ve seen the moment he returns to Krasus Cauldron: the exact time."

And when might that be? Damian cocked his head.

Three days from now, at sunset.

Yellow or red? Kain asked.

Right in the middle, actually, Kavan leaned the staff against the wall and took a seat, "but you won’t know it, because you’ll be deep inside that mountain if everything goes according to plan."

Kain pushed his chair back and stood; he made a harrumph-sounding noise and strolled to the shelves behind Haley’s desk; he grabbed a bottle of something amber-colored and a glass. "Yeah, this plan… he poured the liquid into the glass and downed it in one gulp, is this the best we can come up with?"

"This is my plan, Sargent, Haley glared at him, are you questioning my tactics while you steal my whiskey?"

No, sir, he poured one more and returned to his seat, plopping his considerable bulk into the chair and spinning around to face the General, "I’m questioning the wisdom of relying on magic."

Garrick nodded and turned toward Kavan. "I have to agree. I don’t understand why a God would be interested in assassinating the Draggon-King. What are you getting from this? No disrespect intended, your lordship…"

Kavan smiled and nodded. "I can see how you might question my motives, but it’s simple, really. I have nothing against Darkonus. My problem is with the war: every Draggon attack kills followers of mine, and that must stop—this is the most expedient means to accomplish that goal."

Kain and Garrick turned to Damian with raised eyebrows.

I guess I can understand that. Damian grabbed Kain’s glass and emptied it. Why don’t you end it yourself though, why use us?

Draggons are resistant to magic, there’s only so much I can do, Kavan explained. "The best use of my powers is to put you in a position to kill him; the effect will be the same."

There was a long moment of silence as they measured each face.

Damian turned to General Haley and stood. I guess we need to go see Karl and set that part of the plan in motion…

One last thing. Kavan reached into his pocket and extracted three silver chains; suspended from each was a shining black stone—he passed them to the warriors. Wear these; they’ll allow me to find you wherever you might be. You may need them later.

What are they for? Damian turned the stone over in his hands, he felt a strange pull from it, like electricity running from his fingers into the black pendant; it wasn’t unpleasant, just odd.

Tap them twice, and I can transport you back here from anywhere.

Well, that’s handy… Kain smirked and rubbed his scar.

***

Markus pulled Darkonus to a quiet corner of the Council chamber, looking over his shoulder at the others to ensure they couldn’t be overheard. "You need to win this."

Darkonus watched his face and the way he fidgeted: his hands folding and unfolding the creases in his dark-gray robe. What’s so important about this? We’ve never cared about the other races. Why did you nominate me for Inquisitor?

Because I know you’ll do what’s necessary.

"And you still haven’t told me what that is…" The fire in his eyes lit Markus’ face.

She’s different, Markus said.

In what way?

In a dangerous-to-Draggons way.

"What do you mean? She’s just another K’Pa. The only difference I see is she fell in love with a human. We don’t fear them… they can’t hurt us. Darkonus glanced at Nu’reen. Most of them, anyway…"

You don’t understand, Darkonus. Maybe you will after you hear all the testimony.

I think you may be losing your mind, Markus. You are quite old…

Markus’ face twisted, and his pupils flared; his fingers circled Darkonus’ throat and raised him from the ground with one arm. "You may be the Draggon-King, his grip tightened, but it’s only because I allow it; don’t forget that."

Darkonus fell back to the floor. He clutched his throat with both hands, coughing and drawing breath in ragged gasps. He fell against the chamber wall as Markus walked away.

Do your job, Darkonus, Markus glanced over his shoulder, the light flashing off his teeth as he smiled, or I will find someone who will.

***

The Griffin circled the village. Karl didn’t need to guide him: he knew his way home. He landed in the center of the square and waited for Karl to remove the riding-strap. He flew once around the square and headed for the stables the Na’Geena kept for them; Karl whistled at him as he passed. Carion dipped one wing and trilled back, skimming the treetops as he sailed away.

Karl walked past the vendors in the central square, waving at the ones he knew and nodding at the few he didn’t. They knew who he was—he wished he knew them all better—but there were too many.

The road led up to the Chieftain’s cottage: it sat on a low hill overlooking the village. It wasn’t any larger than the other dwellings, but it did have a continuous guard surrounding it: two Na’Geena warriors flanked the arch that led to his door. He approached the fatter one.

Harlas, how’s that wife of yours, I see she’s feeding you well. Karl slapped him on the belly.

Harlas laughed and grabbed his wrist. She told me to insist that you come to dinner at weeks-end. You can’t refuse; she’ll kill me, Karl…

She’s killed you before, I think, yet you seem to survive… Karl chuckled.

That’s because I’m smarter than her. Harlas leaned closer and whispered. "Please don’t tell her I said that…"

How are my children? Karl laughed.

Jerain has them in the garden; Harlas pointed toward the rear of the cottage, they’re learning about flowers, I think.

Good, Erador could use more beauty.

"Indeed, it could. Weeks-end, Karl, don’t forget… for my sake."

Karl nodded and continued down the path toward the garden. The ground leveled out behind the cottage forming a natural plateau: Jerain had turned it into a living landscape, complete with trellises and arbors, flowers and vines, the whole garden interspersed with fruit trees of all kinds. There was a fish pond in there somewhere, though Karl had never seen it—Sa’riya said it was lovely. He found them sitting on a bench, Jerain kneeling before them, holding the petals of a flower in her hand.

So, what do you think? she asked.

It’s not as advanced as the other variety… Jakob said, the variegation is less pronounced.

That’s true, but do you see these striations along the leaf? She ran her finger along the bottom of the petal, pointing at the veins. What does that tell you?

That the growing season is longer? Harrod asked.

She smiled at him and shook her head. No, the distance between the striations indicates their desire for water. The closer you get to the equator, the more of these plants you’ll find, and the striations will be farther apart—

Harrod turned and saw his father; he ran to him: a three-foot-tall image of himself grabbing his legs. Karl picked him up and tousled his hair.

Did you do what you needed? Jerain asked, lifting Delia from her crib.

I’m not sure, Karl said. "Sa’riya says I have."

Then you should listen to her, she smiled.

Is mother okay? Jakob tugged on Karl’s sleeve.

She’s fine right now… Karl said.

But maybe not later? he asked.

Karl put Harrod down and pointed toward the kitchen. Go in there, and let me talk to Jerain for a moment. He looked at Jakob. You too.

Harrod and Jakob disappeared around the corner, and Karl pulled the crystal from his pocket. Have you ever seen anything like this?

The crystal pulsed with energy: silver magic rising and falling inside.

Sa’riya gave you this. Jerain nodded.

How did you know? he asked.

Because I feel her inside it.

"I left her on the side of a mountain. She can’t be here…" He stared at the crystal, watching the throbbing silver light grow within.

Jerain squeezed his arm. All I can tell you is, keep that crystal safe.

"That’s exactly what she said…"

***

Ka’rin examined the desolation of Purgatory Steppes and sighed. "This is such a terrible place to be."

Jurak nodded and sneezed. Yes, and there’s a lot of dust… He sneezed again.

You understand why we need to convict her, don’t you? she asked.

I don’t care. She’s of no interest to the D’jinn.

That’s where you’re wrong, she said.

What do you mean? He sneezed. "She’s powerful, but we live in different dimensions, why would we be afraid of her?"

Because she’s managed to ascend, Jurak—even if she didn’t mean to.

"And you K’Pa are going