back wall. Pulling off her shoes, Kiora crawled under the covers and drifted to sleep.
Belen stood with Nestor in his workshop.
“I will never forgive myself for falling prey to her, Nestor. I should have known better—” Belen’s voice caught.
“Can we fix it?”
“The magic is very nearly absolute,” Belen said. “The talisman is extremely powerful.”
“You said nearly.” Nestor relaxed slightly. “You have been listening to my ramblings on the needs for exceptions after all.”
“Yes, but this one . . .”He shook his head. “I should have done better. The exception is weak. The only solution is to make another talisman, its other half.”
“It will void the magic?” Nestor asked hopefully.
Belen began to pace, running his fingers through his hair. “Only if they are connected—that’s the problem. The second talisman will act in much the same manner as the first unless they are together. Then, and only then, will it nullify the effects of the piece.”
“That means…there has to be two of them,” Nestor said, looking very tired.
“Yes.”
“That is not acceptable.”
“It is the only way. You will need to get close enough to her to put the two together.”
Nestor held up his hand. “No.” He shook his head. “No. You must take it and hide it.”
Belen looked shocked, his mouth opening and shutting like a gasping fish. “But Nestor, she will kill you. She told me when I gave it to her…”
The vision repeated from the beginning, over and over, never allowing Belen to finish the sentence although Kiora was sure she knew what he was going to say: Jasmine had planned to kill Nestor.
She finally woke and the vision faded to black once again. Stretching, Kiora lay in bed, reluctant to move. She had been weeks without a bed. Weeks without a decent night’s sleep. And weeks without something to do the second her eyes opened. Frankly, she was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally.
She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to a few months ago. Had it been that long? She could hardly remember anymore. She had been innocent and naïve, and it had all been ripped away when she looked into the Wings of Arian. Her heart constricted—she missed not understanding evil and she missed just being Kiora, but she would never be “just Kiora” ever again. She would always be Kiora, the Solus.
Rolling her head to the side, she looked at the glass doors. The blue of the ocean stretched on for miles. Pulling the blankets back, she padded across the marble floor and stepped onto the balcony.
The air was brisk, especially with the moisture in the air. Out in front of her stretched an endless expanse of blue. It soothed her aching heart. Kiora closed her eyes, breathing in the salt and the peace, letting it fill every inch of her. Leaning forward on the rail, she pulled out Morcant’s scale.
Kiora smiled. She could almost see Morcant flying over the waters, his wings skimming the waves. The poor creature must have been devastated when the gate closed, to go from this to Meros, and then to that horrible dirt hole in the ground. And yet, through all of it, he never lost his inherent goodness. She rubbed her thumb across the shining scale before bringing it to her lips. Morcant was good because he chose to be, because that’s who he was. Kiora felt, in that moment, a little less pity for those who followed Dralazar and the Shadow. It was a choice, she realized.
“Kiora?” Emane poked his head through the door. “Are you awake?”
She had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t felt his thread approach. “Out here,” she called.
Emane walked out and whistled. “Wow.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Emane leaned on the rail, his elbow almost touching hers. “It’s unbelievable. It looks like it goes on forever.”
It was nice, knowing that he understood. In Meros, you could see from one mountain range to the other. Nothing seemed endless.
“Did you sleep well?”
Belen stood with Nestor in his workshop.
“I will never forgive myself for falling prey to her, Nestor. I should have known better—” Belen’s voice caught.
“Can we fix it?”
“The magic is very nearly absolute,” Belen said. “The talisman is extremely powerful.”
“You said nearly.” Nestor relaxed slightly. “You have been listening to my ramblings on the needs for exceptions after all.”
“Yes, but this one . . .”He shook his head. “I should have done better. The exception is weak. The only solution is to make another talisman, its other half.”
“It will void the magic?” Nestor asked hopefully.
Belen began to pace, running his fingers through his hair. “Only if they are connected—that’s the problem. The second talisman will act in much the same manner as the first unless they are together. Then, and only then, will it nullify the effects of the piece.”
“That means…there has to be two of them,” Nestor said, looking very tired.
“Yes.”
“That is not acceptable.”
“It is the only way. You will need to get close enough to her to put the two together.”
Nestor held up his hand. “No.” He shook his head. “No. You must take it and hide it.”
Belen looked shocked, his mouth opening and shutting like a gasping fish. “But Nestor, she will kill you. She told me when I gave it to her…”
The vision repeated from the beginning, over and over, never allowing Belen to finish the sentence although Kiora was sure she knew what he was going to say: Jasmine had planned to kill Nestor.
She finally woke and the vision faded to black once again. Stretching, Kiora lay in bed, reluctant to move. She had been weeks without a bed. Weeks without a decent night’s sleep. And weeks without something to do the second her eyes opened. Frankly, she was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally.
She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to a few months ago. Had it been that long? She could hardly remember anymore. She had been innocent and naïve, and it had all been ripped away when she looked into the Wings of Arian. Her heart constricted—she missed not understanding evil and she missed just being Kiora, but she would never be “just Kiora” ever again. She would always be Kiora, the Solus.
Rolling her head to the side, she looked at the glass doors. The blue of the ocean stretched on for miles. Pulling the blankets back, she padded across the marble floor and stepped onto the balcony.
The air was brisk, especially with the moisture in the air. Out in front of her stretched an endless expanse of blue. It soothed her aching heart. Kiora closed her eyes, breathing in the salt and the peace, letting it fill every inch of her. Leaning forward on the rail, she pulled out Morcant’s scale.
Kiora smiled. She could almost see Morcant flying over the waters, his wings skimming the waves. The poor creature must have been devastated when the gate closed, to go from this to Meros, and then to that horrible dirt hole in the ground. And yet, through all of it, he never lost his inherent goodness. She rubbed her thumb across the shining scale before bringing it to her lips. Morcant was good because he chose to be, because that’s who he was. Kiora felt, in that moment, a little less pity for those who followed Dralazar and the Shadow. It was a choice, she realized.
“Kiora?” Emane poked his head through the door. “Are you awake?”
She had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t felt his thread approach. “Out here,” she called.
Emane walked out and whistled. “Wow.”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Emane leaned on the rail, his elbow almost touching hers. “It’s unbelievable. It looks like it goes on forever.”
It was nice, knowing that he understood. In Meros, you could see from one mountain range to the other. Nothing seemed endless.
“Did you sleep well?”
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