Page 194 of Lady of the Drowned Empire

The lid of the tomb sank down, and the tomb resealed itself, making the seraphim statue whole again. As if we’d never been here, never touched it. The lines of the lid vanished, becoming smooth, untouched moonstone, and the key fell into the snow. Rhyan grabbed it, quickly stuffing it back into his pouch, as I felt the weight of the shard in my hands.

Fire exploded inside of me. The flames inside my heart crackling and dancing, burning me from within. Sweat poured down my face. Pain worse than I’d ever felt—worse than when Mercurial had put the Valalumir in me—brought me to my knees.

And right as I thought of him, his aura filled the mountain. Stars fell from the sky.

And his anger rumbled across the ground.

Had I broken our deal somehow? He’d threatened the Valalumir to burn me from within if I ever did. A sense of dread washed over me. And then I was gone. The flames vanishing once more, Rhyan’s voice muffled. I was plunged into another memory. Back to the golden sand.

Auriel stood before me, a light in his hands too bright for me to look at with my newly mortal eyes.

“You shouldn’t have come, Rakame.”

“Oh, how I’ve longed to hear you call me that again.”

“I didn’t want this for you.”

“And I didn’t want this for you, Mekara. Please. Take this. Before it’s gone. Before it’s corrupted like the rest. We don’t have time.”

“I can’t. I can’t. Auriel, please. It’s my fault.”

“No, Asherah. The fault is mine. Please, you must. It’s all that remains. It’s yours. You’re the only one strong enough to keep guarding it, to protect it.”

I shook my head.

“It’s part of the red ray of light. Yours to protect yours to guard. It has to be you. You’re the fire.”

The red light came toward me. Consumed me. Filled me.

Rhyan lifted me to my feet. I was dizzy, the fire still inside me.

Then Asherah appeared on Gryphon’s Mount. She walked through the flames. Her hair was red, her white dress flowing and untouched, as she passed through the ring of fire.

“Use the crystal,” she said, speaking in High Lumerian. But I could understand her as if she spoke plainly. “Restore the stave. Claim your magic. You were not meant to come this way. This was a mistake. Your magic was withheld because I was punished, therefore you were punished—only protecting the Valalumir would restore power for you. Doing your duty. Now it’s in your arms. Protect it. Take your power now. It is your only chance to survive.”

She vanished, billowing into wisps of smoke.

And as if some force beyond my control had taken over my body, I touched the crystal’s edge to the stave in my other hand. Flames licked at the wood, dancing up and down it as the crystal brightened. A force beyond me opened my hand, and the sun-wood stave flew up into the air, the two halves coming together.

Red light—Batavia red—sparkled around the breaking point until the two sides were fused together, and as one piece, the stave fell back into my palm.

Magic surged through my body. Power itched inside of me, crawling, ready to explode, to be expressed.

And I pointed the stave at the flames entrapping us, ready to perform my first act as a mage.

“Ani petrova augnishi.” The flames before me snaked into smoke, and I turned, pointing the stave around the entire ring of fire, extinguishing the circle into nothing more than a hiss.

“Lyr,” Rhyan said in awe. “You…by the Gods! You have your magic?” He stepped closer to me, his green eyes wide. “Your aura! Lyr! I can…I can feel your aura.”

I stared down at the stave, warm in my palm. It no longer said Asherah in the ancient text. It read Lyriana.

I was a soturion. But I was also a mage. And I held the first of the seven lost shards of the Valalumir in my hand.

It was time to get my sisters back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Rhyan wrapped his arms around me, kissing my forehead, my nose, and my lips. “You have magic! Lyr! Do you feel different?” he asked.