IV.

Ash would never forget the first time he had used magic to raise an entire field of undead. Though Krachnis had guided him, the magic had threatened to consume him, raging with a wild intensity. Raw power. It had been like swimming in the burning heart of a firemount. He had been caught between horror and ecstasy, his every sense overloaded, dying and resurrecting a hundred times as he fought to understand and control the magic.

Lozzell’s story had the same effect.

He tasted his parents’ names on his tongue, unable to comprehend the love across generations which had led to his birth, his mother’s love which had demanded so much sacrifice to protect him. All for naught. He had fallen into the hands of the most vile creature in the world, a being who had only ever seen Ash as a tool to be used and discarded.

Like a fish fighting the hook in its mouth but grown tired from the struggle, Ash surrendered to the end of Lozzell’s story. Her voice thundered in the small council room.

“You are the only surviving descendant of Edore and a triple-breed of the world’s dominant races. Raised in the Ashen Lands, you have been imbued with Chaur’s wild magic. And you wield Unmaker’s dark magic. You could be Severia’s salvation. Or our demise.”

Another might have been seduced by the revelation. Ash had the opposite reaction. Krachnis had always called Ash special. His chosen one. When he had conquered the Ashen Lands, many of the Untamed had echoed those words. But Ash had seen the mistrust in others. Open hostility by some. No matter his power, they viewed him as a foreigner with no right to rule.

Everything had made him different. His features, so much softer in some ways to the Untamed, yet harder in others. Even in the Radiance, he had seen no other with a full head of silvery hair. Even his ancestry set him apart.

He didn’t want to be a descendant of the Radiance’s final king. He didn’t want to learn his parents' names only to speak them over graves. He had wanted to belong, to find his home and his people. The truth was that he had none. He was as alone as he had ever been.

“Would you like to know your true name, Ash? There is power in such things.” A playful voice spoke from the shadows of a doorway.

He had never seen the speaker before, but he knew her by description. Gailinn stepped into the most chaotic moment of his life, and it nearly broke him.

“What happened to my parents?” he nearly begged.

“Give me the master stone,” Gailinn said, holding out a hand.

“Come and take it,” he said. Ash leapt from his chair to the tabletop, moving to the center as his eyes flashed poison-tipped arrows at Gailinn. He wanted his magic, wanted to bend her to his will.

“Only a direct descendant of Edore can lay hands upon the stone unless you give it freely,” she said. “You can’t fathom its true power. Hand it over, and I’ll tell you the rest of your story.”

“Knowing gives me nothing,” he said. “This,” he pressed the master stone against his chest through layers of clothing, “gives me power. That’s all I have in the world, and it’s all that matters.”

“Haven’t you learned better by now?” she asked, looking upon him with great sadness. It was entirely wrong, not at all the sort of expression he expected from an enemy. “I came to offer you a choice.”

“Please, share the rest of the story,” Lozzell pleaded. “There are few things worse than a story without a satisfying end.”

“I agree,” Gailinn said. Lozzell perked up only for Gailinn to quickly add, “But I only know a few fragmented details.” She turned an ageless face upon Ash. “Your parents died near Westerbrook, slain by Balancers. Your mother and one other survived. Only he knows what happened that day. He helped her escape to the Ashen Lands, of that I’m sure, and she died shortly after.”

“Who?” Ash asked.

“Andruí Balancer Drusk.”

The name meant nothing to Ash. He waited for Krachnis to offer information then remembered the entity was sealed by the game board’s magic.

““Did Krachnis know?” he asked, sorting through a dozen tangled thoughts based on that new information. “If Knock hadn’t bested me, would my father’s bones have joined my army?” His voice rose, tight with panic. “Does my mother’s skeleton march upon the Radiance even now?”

Everything Krachnis wouldn’t share, Gailinn also knew. She had to. He would crack her apart and learn every secret that had been kept from him.

“And why confront me here?” he asked. “You could have stopped me at the beginning. Knock could have crushed me.”

“You’re not my enemy, Ash.”

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Though she didn’t move, he felt magic emanating from Gailinn, undoing his transformation into a menog. He braced for pain, gritted his teeth against the coming howls. Such preparations were unnecessary. Krachnis’ power had bent and twisted him while Gailinn’s rejuvenated, setting right what had been changed. Even his clothes grew with him, the fabric of reality changing on a whim.

“You’re a lost child who was never given a choice over his own life,” Gailinn said.

“What choice can you offer me?” Ash asked, emboldened by his return to human form. Except, could he consider himself human? If he claimed the ancestry of three races, what exactly was he?

“Not her,” a new voice said. “Me.”

A second figure approached from behind Gailinn. Tall and withered, the wodenlang resembled a grape drained of all juice then left to wither in the sun. Her mouth twisted into a perpetual pucker as if she found the world around her sour and unpleasant.

Something stirred as he met her ironhard gaze.

“Do you know me, child?” the figure asked.

“Who…?” A tingle ran through Ash at the sight of the wodenlang. The living wood surrounding them hummed in her presence, cocooning him in song. A voice spread tendrils through his mind, and for a bewildering moment, he was part of Spire.

Branches spread over every corner of the city.

Roots dug around and through the burrower tunnels below.

Leaves basked in the sunlight, always spreading a little higher, dancing in the wind.

Practiced at quieting Krachnis’ voice, Ash sealed the song from his mind. He had seen through Spire, only for a few seconds, but he had felt himself slipping away, becoming part of something so much greater than himself.

Walking into Spire, Ash had anticipated a trap. He had scouted every inch of the environment during each torturous step to the council room and had been considering avenues of egress from the start of Lozzell’s story. He had expected soldiers and chains, physical obstacles to be evaded and overcome. Instead, his enemies attacked with words and emotions, cutting away every part of who he was.

Worst of all, he had asked for it.

“Your wodenlang blood sings in my presence,” the bark-covered figure said, eyes tightened on Ash’s slightly shaking form. “It is through my grace that the kilkinteth know so much of your story. My name is Shoal. I’m your...grandmother for lack of a better word. In my tongue, we are “anildis”, which means ‘fruit of the same tree’.”

“No, but you…” Still reeling from Lozzell’s story and Gailinn’s entrance, Ash didn’t know how many more surprises he could bear. He had heard earth mother’s were long-lived, but he never would have guessed Edore’s sister had survived the formation of the council.

“I may be one of the oldest creatures in the world,” Shoal said, seeming to read some measure of his thoughts, “but as has often been made clear to me that hasn’t always made me wiser.” She spoke with an even more sour expression than she already wore and a long look of embarrassment toward Gailinn. “I tried to kill your father, his parents, and all before them. I feared the power in your blood and may not have always acted under my own council.”

“Did you hear his voice?” Ash whispered, afraid that Krachnis was even now listening, having found a way through the hob’s magic-nulling game board.

“No, but if even one such as I can be tainted by his mere touch…” Shoal stopped speaking and sighed. It felt as if a gentle breeze passed through the council room, filling it with the scent of fresh fruit and fallen leaves. “I do not speak so openly of such things, but there is a touch of my brother in you. Especially around the eyes. And, of course, the hair.”

Shoal turned her piercing eyes on Gailinn, and Ash breathed a sigh of relief to be free of that vise. Seeing the pair side-by-side, Shoal appeared to be the younger of the two, deferring to Gailinn like a stubborn teenager.

“You claim to offer free will,” Shoal shot at Gailinn. “But you stack the odds in your favor.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Gailinn asked, her smile stolen from a mischievous child.

Instead of answering, Shoal turned to Ash once more, shaking her head.

“If you had been raised in the Radiance,” she said, “had I not tried to kill your mother, you could have become a great leader, a healer and unifier. I offer you that which I have taken from you.” Hand outstretched, Shoal waited for him to make his choice.

He seriously considered the offer--to be free of Krachnis and still retain power. Except, would he be able to enact the changes he wished or would he suddenly become subservient to Gailinn, Shoal, and the council--trading one master for another? Better to make his own way.

Decision made, Ash stood straight-backed and still. He tensed his muscles, knowing it was time to flee.

“When you change your mind, I’ll be there,” Gailinn said. She must have sensed his intentions. Though it infuriated him, Ash was not surprised. She had anticipated his every move thus far.

She had claimed not to be his enemy, and Ash had doubted her. Now, somehow understanding what he would do and knowing she could stop him, Gailinn stood back. Not only that, she had restored his body, giving him even greater power.

The guards had blocked every exit to the room, except one. The one he had always intended to use. He was halfway across the room before they realized their mistake, too late to do anything to stop him.

Ash hit the window at full speed. It was an odd feeling. Suspended in the air, his well-muscled frame struck the wooden grilles which groaned but stubbornly refused to break. Time slowed, and he imagined himself crashing to the floor, thwarted by a thin wooden frame. It was magically grown wood from the oldest and strongest tree in the world, but a bit of wood nonetheless.

With a crash he broke through. He was immediately deafened by the roar of wind in his ears.

Core spread out below him, a living creature pulsing with the life of its inhabitants. Like a heart, the city pumped rivers of life throughout the Radiance, and from on high, it was a thing of beauty. He couldn’t see the diseased parts, but he knew they were there. Balancers who would kill a man for the blood of his ancestors. Politicians and merchants who would finance them.

He would be back to do what needed to be done.

The moment he fell far enough away and his magic returned, Ash instinctively asked Krachnis for the power to turn himself into smoke. For the first time ever, the power didn’t come.

Something has happened, Krachnis said. I sense more turmoil in you than ever before. Tell me how you’ve failed me this time.

Wind screamed past Ash as he fell in a tumble. Summoning his newly returned strength, he spread his arms and legs wide, cloak flapping behind him as he steadied his fall. He was falling directly toward one of Spire’s branches. With mere moments before he would collide, his mind raced with what to tell Krachnis.

Nothing.

Fearing the entity would finally abandon him, Ash pushed it to the back of his mind. Reaching beneath his cloak, he took hold of the master stone and vanished.