Brian Rathbone - Regent

Sinjin sighed and wondered if he would ever understand the ways of those with power. It seemed so foreign to him, even though he was part of the most powerful family on Godsland. He'd seen things no one else had, yet he could explain none of it, could feel none of it, and that terrified him. It was a fear he'd carried most of his life, and these days seemed no more likely to bring an answer or solace.

The sights around him would have been met with awe under any other circumstances, but Sinjin barely noticed the carvings and reliefs or the repeating scrollwork along the walls of the gracefully arching halls. Feeling like prey chased into someone else's territory, Sinjin forced himself to move faster, and he found himself offering support to Brother Vaughn, not knowing where he had found the strength.

Walking in a daze, he almost didn't notice the change. It had been gradual, but the light continued to grow until they no longer needed the herald globe to light their way. Brother Vaughn looked as if he wanted the globe back from Trinda, but she put it in the pocket of her dress, and the elder monk said nothing. Hues of amber cast a warm glow on the otherwise cold stone, and Sinjin felt a weight lift from his soul. Even though he could not access Istra's power, he missed the warm radiance of sunlight and, he supposed, the light of the comets as well. His mother always said that the comets were the most beautiful things she had ever seen and that they had not been in the sky when she was young, but for Sinjin, the comets had always been there. Even though there were more than when he was younger, he couldn’t imagine a time without them. They were so commonplace to him, they did not seem so beautiful. Also detracting from their majesty in his eyes was that they seemed more like the force that divided him from his family and had caused most of the bad things that had happened to his mother. If not for Istra's powers, would the Zjhon have ever invaded his homeland?

The beauty of what lay ahead tore Sinjin from his melancholy thoughts. First came the sound of moving water over the rush of a distant fall, then the smell of lush grasses and apple blossoms. Before them waited an underground world that was full of life and wonder. White birds glided in the air over trees that were far wider than they were tall. Though the mighty cavern could have held greatoaks, it seemed most of the vegetation remained closer to the ground. Looking up, Sinjin's breath caught in his chest. A latticework of giant amber crystals formed a vaulted ceiling for the chamber, and these crystals acted as lenses, gathering and intensifying the light from above.

A herd of small deer gathered near a shallow pool for a drink. At first they looked like fauns to Sinjin, so slight were their forms, but several bore small but fully developed racks of antlers. Sinjin wondered what other strange creatures roamed the caverns and how they had come to be there. Then he looked at the waterfall, which cast rainbows about the cavern, and he knew that the river would bring life, though he still wondered about the deer and birds and whatever else might be alive in this place. The land and trees appeared almost manicured. Shadows occasionally moved within the trees. Sinjin did not know if it was merely his imagination, but as they moved closer to the water, his anxiety grew. Still the chance to get a drink of cool, clean water was too good to resist. Mostly ripe apples waited on a nearby tree, and Sinjin picked three, feeling like a thief. As he did, he noticed no apples on the ground nor stray leaves or sticks.

Trinda eyed the apple Sinjin handed her with suspicion and waited for Sinjin to take a few bites of his before she ate it. He couldn't blame her. There was something curious about trees growing inside of a mountain. He wasn’t sure what apples grown in such conditions would be like, yet they tasted delicious. When they had finished the apples, Sinjin wondered what to do with the core. Brother Vaughn looked to be having a similar quandary, but Trinda just finished off her apple and threw the core on the grass. Sinjin and Brother Vaughn eyed it as if they might be punished for their disrespect of this place.

Trinda just put a hand on her hip. "Don't be silly. The deer will eat it."

Not knowing how long she'd slept, Catrin felt thick and groggy when she woke. The cries of gulls filled the air as they feasted in the shallows during low tide. Her skin felt coated in salt, and her hair lay in ropelike clumps. Black sand clung to her leathers and her exposed skin, and she wiped it away, trying to clear the fog from her sleep-addled mind. The sight of the endless horizon brought fear and anxiety, as if she were the only person left on Godsland. Looking around for Kyrien, she found nothing but empty beaches and bare fields of black stone. If not for the gulls, she would have been truly alone.

Tears gathered in her eyes as she felt the guilt of leaving her son and her husband and all of her people to their fates. Though she knew Prios would protect Sinjin and that Chase and Morif would do their best to protect them, she knew what was to come; she'd seen it in visions she prayed would never come to pass. Standing on a lump of rock in the middle of an ocean, she could not have felt more useless. Forcing her tears aside, she climbed to the highest point of the dormant volcano, the only sign of volcanic activity the still glowing gashes in the field of stone and an occasional burst of steam from the far shore. Standing at the edge of the crater, she scanned the horizon and still saw nothing. Within the crater itself, grasses grew, and Catrin was surprised to find berries and leafy greens growing among porous rock.

While she ate, Catrin began to sense the land pulsing with life beneath her feet, and in some ways, she felt closer to the land than she ever had before. Similar to the feeling she had when standing in the Grove of the Elders, it was as if she could reach into Godsland itself and draw upon its power. She let the land guide her to a place near the center of the crater, a place where moss carpeted rounded stones. Here she rested. Composed and calmed, she moved with the pulse of the land, swaying and breathing deeply.

Using the technique Benjin had once taught her, Catrin focused on her center, which rested within the Grove of the Elders as it existed in her memory: a mighty field of black stone surrounded by twenty-one towering greatoaks. At the very center stood the Staff of Life, still blooming in the place where Catrin had planted it more than a decade before. At no time in history had the grove ever looked exactly as Catrin pictured it, at least not all at one time, but Catrin remembered this place the way she wanted it to be: a place of ancient power untouched by the mistakes of a young girl. Old guilt shrouded her heart despite the fact that she had done everything she could to rebuild the grove. Now only time would return it to its previous glory. The crater reminded her a bit of the grove in the way that the power of the land seemed more acute here. It also reminded her that the Staff of Life rested in lands now occupied by dark forces.

Anxiety poured unbidden from the depths of her soul, fears so dark and personal that she could not face them. In her most terrifying visions, she'd seen herself become the face of death, a wielder of such weapons that all would cower before her, and she had fought to become something else ever since. When making the herald globes, she'd been a creator, yet it seemed as if her true destiny was to be the destroyer. Perhaps in that the old prophecies had been right. Perhaps she had no choice but to become an avatar of death.

Is a sword only used to kill?

The thought echoed from Catrin's subconscious, distant and faint but nonetheless poignant. Catrin had used that very argument to convince Strom to make her a weapon: the sword that lay in her lap, gleaming in the preternatural light of Catrin's meditation. It was a tool-a deadly and dangerous tool. It terrified her. Always she had questioned her right to end the life of another, always she wondered what made her life more valuable than the other’s, and always she felt unworthy of those who had died so she could live.