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“But why is that?”

Taly felt herself deflate slightly. “I don’t know.”

“And this is precisely why I always like to devote at least one lecture to this particular topic,” Azura said, giving Taly a knowing look. They always did this. The Queen would start each new subject by proving to Taly just how little she knew before finally making her point. It was like she took some sort of sadistic pleasure out of making her feel stupid.

“Now then.” Azura settled back in the pew. “What do you know about the Genesis Lords?”

“I know that one of them is one Shard short of a full Council.” Taly flinched when that fan whacked her on the back of the head.

Wood groaned overhead.

“Answer the question,” Azura said, frowning.

“The Genesis Lords are the six men and women chosen to wield the Genesis Shards,” Taly answered mechanically. “Together, they form the Council—the highest governing body in the Fey Imperium.”

“And the Sacred Six?”

Taly turned to study the central altar. The Sacred Six stood in a perfect semi-circle, their bodies lithe and nimble and draped with wings that, even carved in stone, looked to be made of gossamer. They were beautiful—familiar and yetso utterlyotherthat no one could mistake them for anything but what they were: gods—beings of supreme and absolute power and grace.

“I don’t know much,” Taly admitted. “Ivain only took us to temple on the high holidays, but I do know the standard story. Before the Fall, there were six great kings and queens sent by the Magnus, blessed father of all, to rule over all that is, all that was, and all that ever would be.”

Fingers still glowing with magic, she pointed to each of the statues in turn, reciting the stories she had learned as a child: “Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Shadow, and Time—the Magnus gave each of his children a kernel of divine power and commanded them to go out into the cosmos and multiply, to spread and fill all of the worlds with life. They fashioned creatures great and small, each of a single divine element, but to the fey, their most beloved creation, theirtruechildren, they each gave a piece of themselves.”

Azura nodded. “And what of the central figure?”

Taly looked at the seventh statue that stood in the center of the semi-circle beneath a shroud of velvet black. “He is the Judge, the Magnus’ eldest son, the god of Death.”

“His face shall never be seen,” Azura said softly, quoting a passage from the Book of the Faera so well-known that even Taly recognized it, “and his name shall never be uttered. For his betrayal, he shall sleep until the stars fall and the heavens shudder.”

Taly took a breath when she felt her aether begin to dip, and she closed her eyes, teasing out a bit more power. To her great relief, the spell never wavered. “What does this have to do with crystal-based magic? If I wanted to learn about religion, I’d go to temple.”

“You’re in temple, dear.”

This time, Taly did roll her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Religion is history,” Azura replied simply. “Not always accurate, but history, nonetheless. And since crystals derive their functionality from the Shards, it’s directly relevant to today’s lesson.”

Azura sighed, fluttering her fan against the summer heat. “No matter the realm, no matter the species, the Sacred Six are there, hidden in myth, their stories twisted by the passage of time. We know that ancient race of gods as the Faera, but to the Nephilim, they are the Aerin; to the Draegon, the Xolos. Humans simply called them Titans.Every story has its distinctions—none of them get it completely right. Nevertheless, one thing rings true: the Sacred Six were very real, as tangible as you and me.”

Taly’s brows rose. Though she had never considered herself religious, she did believe that the Genesis Shards held power, even if she wasn’t sure that power heralded from the soul of a slumbering god. But to hear that the Sacred Six had been real—actual people that lived and breathed, ate and slept… She wasn’t sure why that surprised her.

“Spell, dear.”

Taly yelped when a broken piece of beam crashed into a row of pews across the room, and she pulled on the spell, tightened the web before anything else could drop. She looked to the Queen, and her heart gave a tiny skip when Azura nodded her head, not quite pleased but, at the very least, not dissatisfied.

“The priestesses of the Faerasanna,” Azura continued, “have made the Sacred Six out to be these all-knowing, all-powerful beings of good and light, but it’s all superstitious nonsense. Yes, they wielded power that we’ll never begin to be able to fathom, and yes, they could be kind, but they were also capricious, self-serving, and, at times, foolish. They were, in many ways, just like the creatures they created. Imperfect and subject to the whims of folly and chance. They had an entire universe of possibility at their feet, and yet they still squabbled like children.”

“You’re talking about the war.”

“Yes.”

“So, the Judge and his Sickness—was that real as well?”

“Also, yes.” Azura let her eyes drift to the veiled figure. “The Judge was sent down to watch over his brothers and sisters, and when he saw that they were growing too powerful, he created an equalizer—a balancing force to their divine gifts. He created death and unleashed it upon all of creation.”

Azura paused momentarily, pressing her fan to her lips. Then, Taly felt it. A sharp tug on the spell, as though the Queen were trying to wrestle pieces of the wreckage away from her and speed them along their path toward the ground. The attacks came from all around, like a million tiny taps on the inside of her mind.

Gripping the edge of the pew, Taly shoved at the presence. Shoved and pushed until her body began to ache and sweat soaked her collar. Seconds passed, or maybe it was minutes—she couldn’t be sure. But eventually, bit by bit, thread by thread, she picked her way along the web ofmagic and regained her grip on the spell. There was another sharp snap of magic, but Taly held onto every piece of damned debris. Held them andyanked, shaking off that invisible hand.