“Afraid to fight me?”
“Afraid you are right,” Lira murmured.
Water grimaced at the truth to her words, and he wished his brother were not so stubborn. They were headed into the greatest conflict of their lives, and all four of his brothers were vulnerable.
“I don’t know how to protect him,” Water said.
“You can’t,” she replied. “You need to trust him.”
“Are you saying he was right?” Water rounded on her.
She gave a wry smile. “People don’t like to be told they’re weak.”
“But this war could kill him.”
“It could kill any of us,” Lira said. “It’s the risk we take every time we step into a fight, every time we draw a sword, every time we face a foe.”
He shifted to face her. The moonlight cast her blonde hair into silvery light, softening her expression, and illuminating her slim form. He’d seen her fight with a strength charm active, decimating foes, but right now she looked small, even fragile.
“I’ve spent my whole life fighting beside my brothers,” he said. “And I never really thought any of them could die.”
“Until Wylyn killed Fire.”
He released a sigh, his breath a swirl of white in the chill. “If what Elenyr said is true, my brothers have lost what made them ageless, and if we survive this war, I’m likely to witness all of them die.”
“I’ve watched friends and family perish,” she said, her tone distant.
He recalled the world of Morena, where she’d lived with a husband and family, ultimately losing them all when the krey had invaded. But the way she spoke implied a deeper loss, of others she’d seen perish, other friends, other family. She’d been born in the Dawn of Magic, making her thirty thousand years old, a fraction compared to Tardoq or Ero, yet several times Water’s own life span. How many deaths had she witnessed?
“How do you press forward, when you know everyone around you could perish?”
“I am not defined by those I’ve lost,” she replied. “I’m defined by the legacy they have left upon me.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. “I love you.”
She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I know, and right now, that’s what I’m fighting for.”
“Oh?” he asked.
“You still have a piece of the fragment of Power,” she said. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of what that means.”
It meant he could still be an Eternal, and journey with Lira to other worlds, fighting to protect Lumineia from otherworldly threats. The prospect seemed more real than it had before, the bond between him and his brothers now absent.
“You think the Eternals would want me?” he asked. “As you said, I still have a fragment of Draeken.”
“All of us have a fragment of darkness in our souls,” she replied. “What matters is that you resist yours.”
“What’s your fragment of darkness?”
She shook her head and kissed him. “You expect me to just share it? You’ll have to discover it for yourself.”
He grinned and then caught her hand, leading her back into the trees. Although he hadn’t been able to help Fire, the impending conflict did not carry the weight it had before. Because he had Lira at his side, and he had a future worth fighting for.
Chapter 5: Return to Blackwell Keep
Shadow advanced into the network of mineshafts, caves, and tunnels, relishing the sense of darkness and solitude. This was his domain, his home. He needed no light, no torch, no source of illumination. The darkness was his refuge.
The walls were as visible to him as if it were broad daylight. Every contour and crack, every knob and vein, all were visible in the Deep. At his side, Elenyr did not have the magic of shadow, but she too did not need the light, her ethereal eyes granting her the chance to see into the very walls.
“How’s your vision without the fragment of Power?” Elenyr asked.
“Same as before.” Shadow shrugged at the question.
Shadow turned ethereal, his body fading to the black smoke of shadows. He reached to the walls and glided along the length, the sensation different, requiring more effort. It lacked the effortless ease he’d previously savored. He frowned in irritation and returned to flesh, falling into step at Elenyr’s side.
“You’re weaker,” Elenyr said.
“But still a guardian,” he replied. “And I was always the weakest of the fragments. This is no different.”
“Is that what you thought?” Elenyr asked. “That you were weaker than the others?”
“Shadow magic is the weakest of all the magics,” Shadow said. “And I’m made of shadow.”
“No you’re not.”
