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Azura gave a satisfied nod. “The Judge’s plague,” she continued, “planted within us a seed of mortality. It gave us the ability to die, and for that, the Sacred Six went to war, or so the priestesses would have you believe.”

“You don’t think it’s true?” Taly asked, her eyes flicking from the Queen to the cloud and back again.

“Oh, it’s true.” A pause. The Queen amended, “In a way. You see, like most fables, the truth of the war that heralded the Fall of the Faera is distorted. History is shaped by those that live to tell it, and once you’ve been around long enough, you’ll see that the victors always find a way to absolve themselves of any true blame.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying the Judge didn’t create death?”

“I’m saying that nothing is ever black-and-white, and there are very few things about the Faera that anyone can say with any certainty. What we do know is that they quarreled with their elder brother, and as a result, all of creation began to die.”

“Because of the Sickness,” Taly said softly. Even those that debated the origin of the Shards’ power agreed that the Sickness had been real—some unknown plague that had crossed worlds and species, eradicating everything in its path before disappearing back into the pages of history.

“Yes.” Azura fanned herself, considering her next words. “The Sickness spread from person to person, race to race. The Six tried to combat itseffects. When they failed… well, there are some stories that say they went to their brother and begged for mercy, others that say they threatened him. Either way, the gods went to war, and the Age of the Faera came to an end.”

Taly shivered despite the warmth of the sun streaming down through the wreckage above. “Why didn’t they kill the Judge?” she asked. “The stories say that he was never going to give up until every living thing had been snuffed out, so why didn’t the Six just kill him when they had the chance?”

“Because they couldn’t. After so many centuries of fighting, it took all their remaining power to banish him and his plague to the dark pits of Maluum, and without magic to sustain them, their bodies turned to stone. Which, in case you were beginning to wonder, is how we come back to the subject of crystals.”

Taly’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Azura reached into her pocket and produced a time crystal as big as her palm. “Whether you choose to believe that the Magnus, in his great mercy, took his children’s remains and spread them to all corners of the world or that they were dispersed by more scientific means—one thing stands true. The bodies of the Sacred Six broke apart and were eventually scattered to all corners of the universe. They were buried and overlooked, regarded as little more than pretty pieces of stone until a man named Jyn Frano discovered that these crystal remains could focus and refine aether.”

Taly blinked.But that would mean…“No.”

Azura chuckled softly. “Yes.”

Taly touched a tentative finger to the surface of the crystal. “You’re telling me that’s a dead god?”

“A piece of one.”

“I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“What would I gain from that, dear?”

Taly pulled her hand away, wiping her fingers on her trousers. “I don’t know. Just to mess with me? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“As much fun as that sounds, I’m telling the truth. This time,” she added, laughing at Taly’s answering grimace.

“Even with their bodies shattered and dispersed,” Azura continued, not even trying to hide her smile, “the souls of the old gods still lingered, tethered to the bit of rock that used to be their hearts. The day the war ended—that was the day the first Council was formed. The six fey generals that fought side-by-side with their gods made one final sacrifice. They joined their souls with the Sacred Six, giving their creators the ability to watch the world through the eyes of their most beloved creation.”

“So, wait…” Taly hesitated, trying to piece together the bits of information. “If you’re a Genesis Lord—”

“One day you’re going to stop stating the obvious, and oh what a day that will be. I think we’ll throw a party.”

“If you’re a Genesis Lord,” Taly repeated, purposely ignoring the Queen, “and you bonded your soul to the Time Shard…” Taly’s eyes went wide. “Are you telling me that in all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve been carrying around the calcified heart of a god in your pocket?”

Azura gave her a flat stare. “Don’t be silly. I don’t carry the Time Shard in my pocket. That would be terribly inconvenient. The humans weren’t exaggerating when they called themTitans. It’s very large.”

Taly slouched down in the seat, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Her head was starting to hurt. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? If we were truly using our fossilized gods to power our technology, surely, that would be public knowledge.”

Azura gave a noncommittal hum. “The‘shattered god’theory isn’t widely accepted. And even though the members of the Genesis Council are in a unique position to set the record straight, we decided as a group that it was better not to endorse an official theory.”

“Why?”

Azura shrugged. “Many reasons, the primary being that we need crystal-based technology to sustain our way of life. Can you imagine the backlash if the Faerasanna discovered that the remains of their gods were being used to power an oven, or an aircar, or, Shards forbid, a tavern toilet? It would be far more trouble than it’s worth.”

That’s fair, Taly thought. The Faerasanna had become more political in recent centuries. Their influence was far from absolute, but if they challenged the orthodoxy of crystal-based technologies, it would be a difficult battle, even with the support of the full Council.

“And so, the time crystals going dark…?” Taly looked to Azura. That was one thing that still didn’t make sense. If the Queen was here, and if the Shard was still bonded to her—