Page 22 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

He holds up the amulet again, and it shines even brighter. He smiles, then moves away from the water and over to a small maze of flowered hedges.

“You aren’t the first to fail in the Aetherium,” he says.

“How did it all go wrong?” I ask, chewing my bottom lip. I want to believe him, this suddenly warm stranger.

“‘Wrong’ is the incorrect word.” Father plucks petals from the pink blooms growing around the maze.

“Why didn’t Supreme end the disorder before it spread?” I ask.

“Free will,” Father says, smiling at the blue flower before taking a petal.

“Which, to some thinkers, is not truly free will. There is only one way, which means that eventually, free will expires. One can’t choose wrong and live forever, and the consequences of choosing wrong serve as lessons for all. ”

“Danar Rrivae?” I ask.

“Chose wrong.”

“If there can be dissension and transgressors among the orders,” I say, “what does that mean for mortals? How are they expected to accomplish what we, the gods, can’t?

Why didn’t the Council accept that I made mistakes but that I shouldn’t die for those mistakes?

Supreme obviously has patience—we’re still all here.

If one must die, then all must die. Upright, low-life, ignorant, and enlightened.

Mistakes and pride flourish across all the realms, and as far as I can tell, people will misbehave forever.

Perfection can’t exist—that concept is finite. ”

He looks over at me, eyebrows raised. “Good points, all.”

“How do you punish someone for a transgression that could, over the span of time, be thought of as that person finally coming to understand?” I ask.

“For you and the Council, it doesn’t matter that I’m young, that I don’t know everything, that sometimes I make decisions without thinking them through.

Aren’t I supposed to make mistakes? Isn’t that how we all learn? ”

Father continues to clench my amulet and those flower petals. “How long should the traitor be allowed to figure it all out? To realize that he’s made a mistake? Do we wait until he’s destroyed thirty realms? Fifty? Eighty?”

“I…” I heave a sigh and shrug.

“He’s not the only one who has transgressed like this,” Father says.

“What happened to them? Were they forced to make amends? Were they punished? Were they given another chance to understand and learn why their actions were…disruptive?”

“ Disruptive ,” he says. “Interesting. Not ‘evil’ or ‘bad.’”

“So-called good things can be disruptive,” I say. “A baby crying in the middle of the night while her exhausted mother tries to sleep—that’s disruptive. A new idea popping into your head just as you’ve finally understood the old idea—disruptive. The baby isn’t evil. The new idea isn’t bad.”

“And Danar is simply interested in new ideas?” Father blows into his closed hand, and then he looks up at the sky.

He plucks something invisible from the air and slips what can’t be seen into his closed brown fist. I glance over my shoulder and spot a black moth with red-and-yellow wings fluttering toward us. She lands on Father’s clenched hand.

“Vallendor Realm is changing even for…” He nods and smiles at the resting moth.

I hold my breath and hope that he doesn’t crush the moth as he’s crushed the flower petals.

“Lady, welcome,” the moth says. “You are still loved . ”

I lean closer to the moth and whisper, “Thank you, lovely. I’m grateful for your love.”

Father studies me. “The one power I envy.”

“But you don’t destroy her,” I say.

“Because we, too, show restraint,” he says, “and we destroy only what is sanctioned by Supreme and the High Council.”

I drop my head. My destruction of realms would be akin to my father smashing the moth.

“We took your powers away because of who you were becoming,” Father says. “You would’ve isolated yourself completely from Supreme had we allowed you to move in that direction—and I didn’t want to see my only child, the gift of my love for Lyra, turned to dust and forever gone.

“Had Sybel not appealed on your behalf,” he says, “your ending would’ve happened. She told us about all that you’d done for your people, about the betrayals of those who you valued above all else.”

My face freezes as the import of this revelation sinks in. “I was…”

“On the path to your own destruction by the ultimate power. You may only go so far until you can go no further, and then there is no return, and then there is no Adjudicator or Council who can save you from that ending. That is what makes you different from Danar. He doesn’t wish to change.

Because we were childhood friends, he thought he could speak frankly to me—and during these conversations, he told me that he would never open his heart to Supreme again nor would he ever admit fault. To him, he’s done nothing wrong.”

“So you stripped me of my power to save me from my power,” I say.

Father moves his fist, and the moth takes flight, sprinkling gold-and-crimson dust as she leaves us.

“To prove yourself to the Council, and ultimately to Supreme, you must confront Danar Rrivae. You must convince him to abandon his campaign to destroy Vallendor and any realms in the future, and then he must accept his punishment.”

“And if he refuses?” I say. “You just said that his heart is hard.”

“Then you have the permission of the Council to destroy him and his followers. But…if you betray this Council and join with him, or if you abandon this task…” He holds his clenched fist to his heart.

“Then the Council will direct Elyn Fynal and a host of Mera to destroy all of Vallendor and those connected to it, including Sybel Fynal, the Grand Steward of Vallendor, and…me.”

“What?”

“The last of the Megidrail bloodline will end on Vallendor.” He’s grown taller as I’ve stood here beside him.

“But how do I do that—destroy him?” I ask. “I’m weaker than ever before, and he’s…”

“He’s strong, yes,” Father says, “but you’re stronger. I, along with the others on the Council, have agreed to restore to you some of your power. We don’t have much time—this work must be done by the nightstar’s full ascent.” He hands me the pendant.

I slip the amulet over my head. “Next full ascent? That’s nine dawns from now.”

His “yes” rumbles and vibrates across my face.

“Why? What does the full ascent have to do with…?” My eyes close—the pressure feels like stones being dropped on my chest. “I have questions about you and my mother, and I have to admit, I’m scared. Father, I know I’m not supposed to be but—” I open my eyes.

I’m no longer standing in the garden with my father. In fact, I’m no longer in Linione Realm. Moths, my only company now, flutter around my head in this anteroom with the Glass of Infinite Realms. That single speck of light swirls in its top left corner.

Nine dawns.