The Beginning After The End

ARTHUR LEYWIN

The dungeon grew darker and more labyrinthine as we continued. Mana beast corpses littered the halls, the detritus of their broken bodies evidence of the titan’s incredible strength. The corpses grew larger as we went deeper into the tunnels, and the dungeon became little more than broken walls full of their raw, dug-in nests.

As Avier led the way, I attempted to strike up a conversation with Evascir, but he only suggested I save my questions for one better equipped to answer them.

Our path took us through a second level of the dungeon. We passed through a chamber at least a hundred feet wide and half as high with dozens of dents clawed into the walls. A towering pile of mana beast corpses filled the center of the chamber, including one several times the size of the others. It was similar in shape, but with strange protruding ridges under its belly—some of which were broken off—and a smoldering heat trapped in its three horns, which glowed like coals.

“The emperor scourge,” Avier said, noting the direction of my gaze. “A mana beast worthy of hunting, even for the asura.”

Evascir grunted, but sounded pleased with himself when he said, “I’ve slain the emperor of this dungeon more times than I care to consider, but it is always a battle worth recounting.”

From this chamber, it was only a short way to our apparent destination: a second set of large doors, the black wood engraved with the image of a huge bird, its wings spread wide. The engraving was inset with some kind of metal that caught any small amount of light and flickered with a dim orange sheen. Vines crawled down from a crack in the ceiling to frame the door with orange leaves the color of autumn flame.

Evascir went ahead. A tall, reddish stone staff grew in his fist, which he knocked against the ground. The doors swung open, revealing a twenty-foot square chamber and another simpler set of closed doors. His bestial companion took up position in an alcove at one side of the chamber while Evascir pushed open the inner doors.

“They will be waiting in the hall,” he said to Avier, who nodded appreciatively and went through.

I did the same, curious who “they” were and where this place was, but withholding my questions. Evascir didn’t watch us walk away, but closed the door behind us and returned to whatever his duty was.

“Is this some kind of…asuran stronghold?” I asked quietly.

Avier’s tale swished in agitation before he paused, turning around to look at me. “Those doors have not been opened to a human, elf, or dwarf since they were carved from the first of the charwood to mature in the Beast Glades. Though you have been invited, it remains to be seen if your presence is welcomed. A king’s grace will suit you far better here than a dragon’s physique.”

Without waiting for a reply, he continued down the hallway.

Instead of the dark, rough stone of the dungeon, this interior passage was warm gray marble studded with silver sconces from which burned little orange flames. More vines grew along the walls and across the curved ceiling, adding a bucolic airiness and sweet autumn scent that made it easy to forget that we were far underground.

The short hallway opened onto a balcony that jutted out from the wall of an enormous room. I gaped down at a garden larger than that of any royal palace, a wild riot of color complete with soaring, silver-barked trees covered in bright orange leaves. Several globes floated near the roof of the gardens, giving off a pleasant light that felt like mild summer sun on my skin.

“I thought the dwarves did a good job making their caves homey, but this…” Regis let out a muffled whistle. “It looks more like Epheotus than Dicathen.”

Avier’s head bobbed at the end of his long, reptilian neck. “Indeed. In some ways it is. The charwood trees, the plants, these people you see here, they are all remnants of Epheotus.”

A few people lounged or walked around the gardens, chatting or just sitting with their faces turned toward the lighting artifacts. Their matching shades of true-flame red or smoky black and gray hair and their vibrant orange eyes marked them as members of the phoenix race.

Those eyes began turning upward toward us as more and more of the phoenixes noticed our presence. Some only watched curiously, but others abandoned their leisure and quickly exited the garden.

‘Didn’t think I’d see birds less friendly than our tour guide owl here,’ Regis communicated mentally.

I cracked a smile.

“Retake your seat on my back,” Avier grunted, as if hearing my companion’s thoughts. “We will fly from here.”

My brows rose at the idea of flying through an underground dungeon, but I did as he suggested after Regis was tucked safely back within me.

Avier stepped lightly off the edge of the balcony, and we drifted out over the garden. The asuras still remaining there watched us go with an air of apprehensive curiosity.

We flew between two of the trees, then down into a yawning tunnel entrance. This tunnel was much more plain than what I’d seen previously, just bare marble that was covered in ashy black streaks like scorch marks. The tunnel split, and Avier banked right, then drifted back to the left, where our tunnel joined with another.

The passage ended abruptly, opening high up into another exceedingly large chamber. My first impression was of a theater, with several levels of balconies looking down on a central platform, but I couldn’t immediately see any way to navigate up to them.

Like the other chambers I’d seen, the stonework was predominantly gray marble, but columns of black wood held up the balconies, around which grew more of the vines, fringed with colorful fall leaves.

A large circular table currently rested on the central platform, around which sat four people, two of whom I knew well and one I could already guess at, but the fourth was both a stranger and somewhat out of place.

Avier circled the space once, then landed gently. When I slid to the ground, he transformed back into an owl and fluttered up to a nearby balcony, perching on the railing and watching us with his overlarge eyes.

The four figures had stood up from their seats around the table, watching our approach. Aldir was closest to me. He’d abandoned his severe, military-style uniform for a relaxed tunic and light training pants, and his long white hair draped over one shoulder, but he otherwise seemed unchanged. The vivid purple eye in his forehead watched me emotionlessly, while his regular eyes remained closed.

Wren Kain stood to his left, draped in a soot-stained white cloak and appearing distinctly out of place in the grand hall. Like Aldir, he looked the same as when I’d trained with him in Epheotus: dirty, tired, and almost purposefully unkempt. The only thing that stood out was a single bright-orange feather in his hair and the way his observant gaze seemed to burrow into my chest to my core.

But it was neither Aldir nor Wren who spoke first.

A tall man with an athletically graceful physique stepped past Aldir. He was dressed in a golden robe embroidered with stylized feathers and flames over a cream-colored silk tunic and dark pants. His hands were tucked into the robes, held together at the waistline by a dark belt. Markings like feather-stems glowed like coals down the sides of his face, which had the same air of eternal youth as Kezess’s, but where Lord Indrath could only appear dispassionate and smug, this man’s sharp-lined face conveyed an undeniable sense of wisdom and curiosity.

He was smiling, but there was something complicated about the simple expression. Perhaps it was the way his eyes blazed like two captured suns.

“Arthur Leywin, son of Alice and Reynolds Leywin, bond of Sylvie Indrath, reincarnated soul of the Earth King, Grey.” The man dislodged one hand from his belt and ran his fingers through his untamed mane of orange hair. “I am Mordain, phoenix of the Asclepius Clan. Welcome to the Hearth.”

I rolled my tongue against my teeth, considering my words. “Thank you for the kind welcome. I realize that allowing me to come here must have been a carefully-weighed decision, but I have to ask…am I here at Aldir’s request or yours?”

“Admittedly, it took some convincing on Aldir and Wren’s part for me to invite you here,” Mordain answered without hesitation. “The truth is, my eyes have been turned away from your world for a very long time. Except…” He paused, and some emotion I couldn’t identify passed over his features, but receded just as quickly. “I found myself quite surprised, then, when they turned my head and showed me you. But I wasn’t immediately convinced that meeting with you face to face was worth the risk.”

Although the courtly thing to do would have been to exchange several rounds of probing pleasantries to inch closer to the conversation's true purpose, I didn’t think Mordain or I had the patience or interest in such games. “Do you plan on helping us against the Vritra Clan? Or even Epheotus, if it comes to that?”

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“Straight to the point, and a valid question.” Mordain took a step back, gesturing to the table. “Please, join us. There is much to discuss.”

As Mordain returned to his seat, I met Aldir’s eye. He looked away as he eased into his own chair.

Moving around him, I took the seat next to Wren, who bit his lip as he eyed me speculatively, cast a sidelong glance at Mordain, then leaned toward me in barely concealed anticipation. “So? Where’s the weapon? I can sense the acclorite’s energy within you, but—”

Giving Regis a nudge, I forced him out of my body. Purple fire wreathed the edges of my shadow as Regis manifested, his jaw momentarily slack with surprise.

“A conscious manifestation…” Wren mumbled, leaning forward to get a better look. “And such a unique form. I’ll need to be told everything, of course, about your state of being when the weapon manifested, and inputs prior to manifestation. Personality traits are of primary interest when evaluating a conscious weapon, but acquired powers are essential too, of course…”

Wren trailed off, his eyes darting rapidly, and I could just imagine him mentally cataloging all these thoughts.

“Say hello to your creator, Regis,” I said, suppressing a chuckle.

Regis blinked, inspecting Wren. The flames of his mane were still. “Daddy?”

Wren’s brows wrinkled up, and he frowned at me. “Did this weapon just…?”

“So, you’re the guy who made me, huh? We really need to have a talk,” Regis continued, his tone changing. “I’d like to file a complaint. Being alive is great, and I don’t mind even being a weapon—I am a really badass one—but did I really have to come in a box with Lava-Burn Barbie? Do you have any idea what this guy has put me through?”

Wren seemed completely flummoxed as he looked blankly between Regis and me.

Mordain cleared his throat. “It seems the two of you have much to discuss. With Arthur’s permission, perhaps you could continue this conversation somewhere else, at least for the moment?”

‘You know how much I love these politically fraught, socially awkward little business meetings, but I’m willing to sacrifice attending if you’d prefer I go chat with this old loon?’

Go, but keep your eyes open, I sent back. I want to know anything you can discover about this place.

Wren’s chair floated away from the table, and I realized he was sitting on a stone conjuration. Already talking animatedly, he drifted toward one of the few lower entrances to the chamber, Regis loping along beside him.

After watching them leave, I returned my attention to Mordain, but it was the table between us that caught my eye. Its surface had been carved in exquisite detail, bringing to life a beautiful cityscape. It was a city I recognized.

“Zhoroa,” I said, tracing a finger along the roofline of a building that could have been the courtroom I’d seen in the last djinn trial.

Mordain let out a sharp breath, and his burning gaze swept to the fourth person at the table, who had still not been introduced. The man was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, wider in stature than Aldir and much bulkier than Mordain, but less tall. His face was broad, with soft but handsome features, and he shared the orange hair that marked most of the other phoenixes, except slightly darker, and with a smokey tinge that shone purple when he moved and the light caught it.

His eyes, though, stood out the most; one was bright orange, like looking into the caldera of an active volcano, while the other was glacial blue, so light and clear it was almost white.

“That city—and its name with it—has been gone for a very long time,” Mordain said, drawing my attention back to him. “This table is indeed a relic from when that city still stood.”

I pictured Lady Sae-Areum, the djinn woman who sat across a table—this table, I was certain—from Kezess in my visions, and wondered what the connection was between that scene and this place.

But I had to put my curiosity aside, because I hadn’t come to learn about Mordain, or even the djinn.

“This is all interesting, but I feel compelled to address the reason I came here at all,” I said, focusing on Aldir. “I know what I’ve seen with my own eyes, and I know what Kezess has told me—and offered me. I’d like to hear you answer for your crimes.”

Mordain raised a hand, no doubt preparing to interject some complaint, but Aldir stopped him with a small shake of his head. “It is only fair. Arthur was there, after all, when I used the World Eater technique…” My eyes widened slightly. “I felt your presence, though I didn’t realize it was you at the time.”

I swallowed past a lump in my throat as I remembered that moment, my vision flying from Alacrya to Elenoir, where I watched as Windsom battled Nico and Tessia—already turned into Cecilia’s vessel, even though I didn’t know it—and Aldir destroyed the country I’d called home for half of my youth, nearly murdering my sister in the process.

Aldir continued to speak, but I didn’t interrupt as he explained what happened afterwards, how he began to doubt his purpose and Kezess’s leadership, was banished from the Theyestes Clan at his own request, and fought against soldiers he himself had trained.

He retrieved a small box from a hidden dimension artifact and set it on the table in front of me. “I had at first thought to come to you immediately and offer to assist in retaking Dicathen, but I was uncertain you would accept, and understood all too well how your people would look at me—like a monster. Wren agreed, and so we bided our time, taking up temporary residence in the flying castle over the Beast Glades, since Dicathen’s forces haven’t attempted to take it back yet.”

“I became aware of them almost immediately,” Mordain interjected. “Our security is very reliant on knowing when other asura are around. But it helped that my sources in Epheotus had made me aware of the situation with Aldir, so I was already on the lookout.”

“Mordain welcomed us into the world he has created for his people, and so I’ve waited for an appropriate time to meet with you,” Aldir finished.

Throughout his explanation, he spoke with the cold efficiency of a soldier delivering an important missive. Clerical and absent of any emotion.

“Are you not sorry?” I asked, the words raw in my throat.

Aldir only nudged the box slightly closer to me. “I’ve brought you this small token.”

I nearly struck the box off the table to shatter on the floor, but I restrained myself. Instead, I deliberately lifted the lid on the box. It was full of dark, fragrant earth.

“Soil from the slopes of Mount Geolus,” Aldir said stiffly. “I hope that, perhaps, it may help make amends by undoing some small part of the destruction I’ve caused.”

Slowly, I closed the lid. “Can I regrow the lives you took there, Aldir?”

Aldir did not turn away from me. His two normal, very human eyes opened and met mine.

“Trees aren’t a culture or a civilization. A forest won’t bring back the elves from the edge of extinction.” My voice grew sharped as I spoke, my jaw tightening in anger. “Kezess wants me to kill you, you know. Said it would bring justice to both our people. Even if I choose not to, he’s forbidden me from allying with you. In exchange for sharing my knowledge of aether, he’s going to help us protect Dicathen from Agrona, a deal which your continued existence puts in jeopardy.”

A meaty fist pounded on the table, making the box of soil jump. We all turned to face the young asura with orange and blue eyes.

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“You’d come here and make threats?” he growled in a deep, bassy voice that vibrated in my chest. “General Aldir has—”

“Peace, Chul,” Mordain said, lowering his hand slowly in a gesture of calm. “Arthur has the right to speak his mind, and we will listen. Although I must admit, I am troubled at the idea of Lord Indrath sending dragons to Dicathen. Even if he upholds his end of your bargain, which he just might if the payoff really is aetheric knowledge, that means that he already has loyal soldiers in position to strike when you are no longer of use to him.”

I kept my hard stare on Chul for a moment longer, then addressed Mordain. “You mean, the presence of Indrath forces will put the Hearth at risk of being discovered.”

“It would, should it come to that,” Mordain agreed amicably, “but things are advancing that are outside of your ken. With the Legacy.” I focused in on him, goosebumps rising all over my body at the mention of the Legacy. “Agrona has long held one of my people prisoner. I’ve been able to sense some of what she’s been through, and very recently she was…executed.” His eyes flicked to Chul, almost too fast to see. “The Legacy absorbed all her mana, killing her.”

Chul stood suddenly, sending his chair crashing backwards. “And still you refuse to move against Agrona!” he shouted, his voice booming like a cannon.

“We mourned the loss of your mother a very long time ago,” Mordain said, his voice soft and full of a controlled despair.

“What of you, stranger?” Chul demanded, putting both hands on the table and leaning over it toward me. “Are you afraid to fight back against the Virtra? Will you hide your nation beneath the wings of dragons and stick your head in the sand?”

“Forgive him,” Mordain said, giving the young asura a stern look. “Lady Dawn was imprisoned when Chul was only a boy. He would see us fly to battle, raining fire down on Taegrin Caelum in retribution.”

“Are there others like you,” I asked Chul, “who are eager to leave your hiding place and take the fight to Agrona?”

He crossed his muscular arms and turned his head to the side, looking away. “No. You’ll find that those here prefer to live out their lives strolling in gardens and forgetting they were once the mightiest hunters in Epheotus.”

Mordain stood. I thought perhaps he was going to reprimand Chul, but instead he gave me a bright smile. “And so an opportunity presents itself. Arthur, you haven’t asked for it yet, but you want my aid in this battle. Chul, you wish to leave and bring your fight to the Vritra Clan.”

I saw immediately where he was going with this. “It’s almost amazing, the way you asura can twist things around to try and make what’s good for you sound like the best thing for everyone else, too. It sort of seems like you’re just setting me up to babysit an asura who is straining your patience.”

Chul’s mismatched eyes bulged, and he pointed a thick finger toward Mordain. “You know that’s not what I meant! I want us to—besides, what chance does this lesser have against the Vritra, it’d be a waste to—he probably can’t even fight!”

I raised a brow, regarding him passively. “How many battles have you won, asura?”

“Perhaps a spar then,” Mordain suggested, slipping his hands into his belt. “An opportunity to test each other's strength and worthiness.”

Chul scoffed.

“Fine by me,” I answered, eager to release some pent-up frustration.

Mordain gestured for us to stand away. With a wave of his hand, the table was drawn down into the stone like it was sinking in quicksand. Braziers burst alight with bright orange flames, and a translucent shield hummed to life, separating the center of the room from the balconies.

Mordaine and Aldir flew to the lowest, most central balcony. “You are trying to make allies of each other. Fight accordingly,” Mordain said. Next to him, Aldir wore a thoughtful frown.

Chul cracked his neck and raised his fists, each one the size of my head. “Ready, human?”

I rolled my shoulders and reinforced the aether cladding my body, but I didn’t conjure my weapon or armor. Instead of speaking, I lunged off my back foot, sprinting forward. Despite his size, Chul was fast. His stance shifted between one step and the next, and his fist burst into flames as it shot toward my face.

Falling to my knees, I slid beneath the punch, hooked his arm with mine, and let myself be pulled back up by the force, driving my knee into his ribs. Fire-attribute mana exploded out from him in a nova, pushing me backwards while I was still in the air, and he pounced after me, his fists clenched together and held over his head like a hammer.

Still in the air, I rolled my body to catch the blow on one forearm.

His strength was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

The force of the two-handed strike slammed me into the floor with enough force that the flames trembled in the braziers. Instead of pressing his attack, however, he backed off, allowing me time to get to my feet.

“I’m almost impressed,” he said, grinning fiercely. “I half-expected all your bones to shatter.”

“And I expected you to hit harder.” I didn’t mention the fact that several of my ribs were quickly settling back into place after being fractured by the force of his strike.

Chul laughed, and I recognized that a change had come over him. He was comfortable in battle, much more so than at a meeting table. Or trying to make a life for himself here in this calm, detached place.

This time, he moved first. In a flame-wreathed blur, he charged straight at me, lashing out with burning punches and kicks that blistered my skin even through the aether. I struck back, but it was like punching a granite wall. With each strike, the burning energy around him built, until he was the center of a raging inferno, so hot even countering his attacks left me with burns.

He wasn’t holding back, I was glad to see.

I wouldn’t either.

Aether infused my body, heightening my speed and the strength of my muscles, bones, and tendons. Using the technique I had started to learn in the Relictombs, I took a short step and drove my fist forward in a straight jab.

My knuckles connected solidly with his sternum. With a grunt, Chul slid backwards several feet, the shockwave of the impact blowing out his burning aura.

He sucked in a pained breath, one hand pressed against his sternum as he stared at me, uncomprehending.

I heard Aldir hum and spared him a glance. He was holding onto the balcony railing tightly as he leaned forward, engrossed in every movement.

The move was a modification, or expansion, of the same technique Burst Step was built on. By carefully engaging a series of mico-bursts of aether, I could not only move near-instantly, but also strike. It was a technique that would have broken my body as a human, and even now I felt the strain of using it just once, but this simple spar had shown me it could wound even an asura.

After several seconds, the grin returned to Chul’s broad face. “Now, maybe this will be some fun after all.” With a cacophonous battlecry, he threw himself at me again.

We exchanged blow after blow, our fight growing continually faster as we both sought to push the other to their limits. After a few minutes, I noticed other people starting to slink into the room, watching us at first curiously, then with growing amazement.

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It wasn’t long before Chul was sweating profusely, his chest heaving with each breath, but his grin remained firmly in place, no matter how hard we fought.

After catching me with a spinning kick that I had expected to be a feint, he stepped back, letting me pick myself up yet again. I could tell from the way he held himself that his energy was flagging.

Suddenly his hand thrust out, palm open, and a roaring fire boiled outward. I Burst Stepped straight through the flames, expecting to catch him off guard, but as I took that near-instant step, Chul was engulfed in a flash of golden light, and I passed straight through where he had been. The brightness overwhelmed me, and I stumbled as I came to a stop. Two huge arms wrapped around me, pinning my own arms to my sides and lifting me up. Chul and I were both wreathed in phoenix fire.

“Yield!” he roared as my aetheric barrier struggled to ward me from the roiling heat.

My bones complained loudly, threatening to shatter under his asuran strength, and my skin began to blister and blacken.

A grin as big and wild as Chul’s split my face.

Sensing for the aetheric paths, I moved into them, leaving Chul behind as I appeared on the other side of our combat floor. But I didn’t give him time to recover.

I Burst Stepped once more, aether coursing through my body in short, controlled spurts. It felt like I was being stretched in eight different directions, but I gritted through the pain as I focused every fraction of a second on properly maintaining control.

Chul bent sideways as he was lifted up off the floor, unable to even comprehend what hit him, before a blurring hook snapped his jaw in the opposite direction followed by a straight that sent him barrelling towards the shields like a missle.

Thin wisps of violet-tinted smoke rose from my mending arms as the young phoenix crashed heavily against the protective barrier surrounding us and fell to the ground. The shields fell away and Mordain was at his side in an instant. More casually, Aldir drifted down from the balcony toward me, inspecting me seriously.

I allowed a moment for my wounds to heal as aether seeped from my core into my broken bones and burned flesh.

“I see your physique is no longer a barrier to utilizing Mirage Walk, or at least your version of the technique,” Aldir said, brushing out a flame still lingering on my clothes. “A very illuminating battle.”

Meanwhile, Chul was struggling to his feet despite Mordain trying to keep him prone while inspecting his wounds. The big phoenix bullied his way past and marched up to me, fists clenched and huffing like a startled moon ox.

“A good fight,” I said, holding out my hand.

He looked at the extended appendage, batted it aside, then wrapped me in a crushing bear-hug. “A good fight!” he bellowed, making my ears ring. He suddenly released me and took a step back, his fists on his hips. “‘A good fight’ he says,” he repeated, grinning brightly. “A damned good one, I’d say.”

Not letting his enthusiasm obscure the reason for our spar, I held his gaze until the grin started to fade. “I noted toward the end you seemed to be running out of energy, though.”

He sobered quickly, looking at the ground for several seconds before answering. “I’m only half-phoenix. My mana tends to…burn up fast, if I get carried away.” He lifted his chin. “But I’m as strong as any asura my age, I can promise you that.”

“I believe it,” I said. “And I accept. If you want to come with me, I’ll gladly take you.”

Chul let out an eager whoop and thrust his fist into the air.

Mordain ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “I know that for you, Arthur, this will just be going home, so to speak, but for the Asclepius Clan, and all the other asura who have joined us here, this will be a momentous occasion. If you don’t mind, I’d like to arrange a celebration to mark Chul’s leaving.”

My mood immediately soured as I considered everything that needed my attention back in Vildorial and beyond. “I’m sorry, Mordain. Time may stand still here, but it is rushing by out there, and I don’t know when Agrona will strike again.”

Mordain’s eyes seemed to age rapidly as I looked on, but when I blinked, he was the same as he had been. “Of course. Chul, go prepare to depart.”

Chul’s face slackened, and I could see the reality of his situation falling on him. “Of course,” he said, seeming slightly out of sorts, then hurried off, flying up to one of the many tunnels exiting the theater.

“He has the fiery temper of his mother,” Mordain said, watching him depart, “but her strength as well. You’ll find no fiercer ally in your battle against the Vritra.”

I felt myself frown, catching something that had gone unsaid in Mordain’s words. “And what about his father? He’s a half-phoenix, he said? Who…” My mind jumped to the table now hidden beneath the stone. “He’s half djinn.”

Mordain nodded, his gaze moving to the floor as if he’d read my mind. “Some came with us when we found this place. Far too few…we could have saved more, but they would not leave their ‘Lifework’ as they called it. Too set on finishing their aetheric vaults, where they claimed all their vast knowledge would be stored. The Relictombs, Agrona calls them.”

I stared at Mordain, his mention of the Relictombs giving me an idea.

The floor rippled, and the djinn table floated up through it, coming to rest once the stone surface had hardened again. Mordain moved to take a seat, leaning on his elbow. “There were very few such pairings, and of the handful of offspring that occurred, most carried as much djinn blood as phoenix. Their lives were…limited in length. At least relative to asuran longevity.”

Regis chose that moment to reappear, walking just ahead of Wren Kain. “What’d I miss?” he asked, in good cheer.

“Good timing. I hope you got what you needed. We’re headed back to Vildorial as soon as Chul is ready.”

‘We’re bringing that meathead with us? We’re going to need a bigger wyvern.’

Maybe not.

“Lord Mordain, you mentioned the Relictombs,” I began, knowing it was too much to hope that they would be able to fulfill the request I was about to make. “I discovered a deactivated portal into the Relictombs underneath an ancient djinn village in Darv. You’ve been in the Beast Glades for centuries…have you found any other old portals in that time?”

His brows wrinkled in a frown, making him look significantly older. “The Hearth, as many of the dungeons that dot the landscape of the Beast Glades, was created by the djinn. There is an old portal here. It was operable for a short while after we took this place as our home, but the djinn who lived here eventually deactivated it.”

My face lit up. “Can you show me?”

After sending word to Chul, Mordain led me and the others along a series of tunnels and past many other curious phoenixes, moving in a general downward direction. Eventually we came to a small cave. Green and gold moss grew in a thick carpet across the floor, and luminescent crystals sprouted from the ceiling, casting a pale blue light on a carved stone rectangle in the center. It was ancient and crumbling, the runes in the stone no longer readable.

Avier glided through the cave and landed on top of the frame. “If you were hoping to use this to transport yourself back to Darv, I don’t think it’s going to be of use.”

“I haven’t been down here in many years. It’s like walking into a living memory,” Mordain said with a sigh.

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Walking up beside the phoenix, I gently touched the stone arch before turning around to face Aldir.

I held out my hand, revealing Sylvie’s stone resting in my palm. “You said you wanted to make amends, right? This is how you can start.”

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