“And?”

“And nothing, I haven’t done it yet.”

Isobel incredulously stared at Leland, the boy who possessed two key parts of understanding Archons and traversing past memories. Back in the Valley, an Archon had said something to him, something in a language no one understood, wearing a face that perfectly copied Sybil’s.

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” she asked, the question somehow needing to be asked.

“Because,” Leland droned, as if the word itself was answer enough, “I wanted to wait until you were around to do it.”

“That’s stupid,” Isobel replied instantly. “What if it said some important secret? What if—”

He held up his hands, stopping her cold, just like the room everyone currently sat in. With access to a mage who could create ice, the group decided the best place to live during their time at the Tear was a house made of ice.

Gelo was positively elated with the idea of constructing a proper home for everyone, even making it “nice.” The offered lodging was a cave, prime real estate for a bear, not so much for humans. And since no one had the nerve to tell the cub her work of “art” was an ugly, glorified igloo, it remained as is.

Luckily a plot of land was open beside Elin, simplifying the protection aspect of their time at the bastion.

“We both went through a lot at the Valley,” Leland said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of pulling Sybil through the misery and death. “We should be together when I translate its words.”

Isobel took a deep breath, studying the boy – young man – before her. She relented, leaning back and gesturing with her hand in the universal way to say, “get on with it.”

And Leland did. He adjusted his warm bedding, pulling the blanket he had wrapped around himself to better cover his neck and shoulders. If there was one thing to say about living in an igloo, it was that it was cold. But that was easily remedied with layers and blankets. In fact, he felt the temperature was rather—

Leland shook his head, knowing that he was only stalling. With a deep breath, he powered the cantrip Memory Recall. Eyes glazing over into a milky white, he stared off into the distance, his mind flooding with past events.

He was in the Archon Valley. Unfamiliarity roused him to move, to protect Sybil, to argue with Isobel. Something was coming. It phased through reality like a specter passing through solid stone. It didn’t walk, but rather moved across the landscape, dematerializing trees and rocks as it went.

It hummed, colorless music appearing from behind its veil, and twisting before its head. Texture took, mimicking the Boneforged Monarch’s facial impression. Down to cheek bones and a slight nostril flare, the Archon stared at Sybil with identical eyes before humming again. This time the music implied color, turning to a dark shade of coffee.

The Archon recreated Sybil’s face on the back of the Monarch’s before twisting both to be facing the same way.

“I see… thank you,” Sybil muttered.

The Archon, still sharing Sybil and the Monarch’s face, bent space around its head, nodding. It then looked at past-Leland, space turning its head with slow gaunt. It spoke without moving its lips in a language long lost to the mortal realm. It was uncaring that Leland couldn’t understand, nor did it mind when he didn’t respond.

From there it evaporated, veil and all.

But now, Leland understood. His contract with the Lord of the Lexicon brought information to his mind, recalling the memory in a different light.

It spoke, its lips unmoving, “The Lords are not the end, they are the beginning. Speak to us again, speak to the hive. Find the answers you seek when you learn the questions to ask.”

And with that, it evaporated, veil and all, completing the memory.

For a moment, Leland’s consciousness floated there, waiting for the cantrip to end, waiting to return to himself. But he didn’t.

Something tickled down the back of his neck. He “spun,” rotating blindly through memory after memory. Images flashed against the backdrop of sky and Void, memories from yesterday or ten years ago. None lasted for more than a heartbeat, but all were longer than an eternity. Time shifted, reality changed.

Then the Archon’s veil appeared again, but this, this wasn’t like before. This was new, no memory of Leland’s was like this. This was happening now.

Sitting against a pure black void, the Archon’s veil danced and tugged, creating the Archon from nothing as if a feather appeared from open air. It floated silently, its silvery gold luster dazzling but also not. It didn’t grow a head, nor eyes, but Leland knew the creature stared at him like he stared at it.

Then the black backdrop faded, revealing thousands, millions of Archons, each staring at him—

Leland returned to himself in the igloo-cave, his breath hitched like he had just finished his morning workout routine. No— No, that wasn’t right. This was worse, this— this— He screamed, his throat the diameter of—

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Isobel appeared in front of him, consuming his vision as the memories faded. She was snapping, making noise to draw his attention. He couldn’t— He wouldn’t— Her eyes were dark, with thick bags below as if she had lost a year of sleep. Concern, he recognized, concern for him. He tried—

Slap!

Pain radiated up his face and partially into his hairline. Water pooled in his eyes, a sensation akin to a bee sting consuming his thoughts. He wanted to cry, but that would— He stopped. What just…

“You slapped me!?” he seethed, his jaw clamped like a smith’s vice.

Tension released from Isobel’s shoulders and neck. Her head swung down, staring at the sandy flooring. She hid it well, but she trembled, memories of her own close to resurfacing.

“Leals?” Jude called from a few steps away. He was on his feet, his hand clasped around his guitar’s neck. He had been playing moments before, but… “You alright there?”

“My face hurts,” he mulled, considering whether it would be an abuse of magic to heal himself with Imbue Life for a slap.

“Yeah…” Glenny then uttered, also on his feet, “that’s not what we are worried about right now.”

“Then what—”

“The screaming.”

Leland looked around, finding Gelo also on her feet only steps away staring at him with an expression on the verge of tears.

“What’s going on?”

It was Isobel who answered, “You were using Memory Recall, then you started screaming.”

“Oh.” He blinked. Then his tone turned dark. “Oh.”

“What did you see?” she asked.

“What did I— I saw the Archon. And you and Sybil. It spoke about the Lords and how they are not the end, but the beginning. And to contact them, the hive, when I know what questions to ask. And then…”

“And the screaming?” Jude asked after a moment of silence.

“Don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t remember screaming.”

“U-use the cantrip again,” Isobel said quietly, her words weak.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gelo huffed from the side.

Being a mage and traveling with Leland, he had talked to her about the theory behind the cantrip several times. And while Gelo never wished to learn, the idea of manipulating memories still hung in her mind. Some memories were never meant to be relived. She could think of several in her short life that she would consider torturous to experience again.

“I’m not—” Leland collected himself. “I don’t think I’m going to.”

Isobel leaned back. “Reasoning?”

“Because I remember what caused me to scream.” He thought of the Archon Sapphire. “I think I know how to contact the Archons.”

“That being?”

“Memories.”

“How does that make sense?” Jude asked.

“Because Lords are only the beginning…”

Everyone beside Leland adopted a confused face. “What?” one of them asked.

Leland put his hand up, his train of thought all that mattered right now. He was close to something, a realization or… or…

He had felt this before, the sense of being so close to something important. A concept, a Rule. First with the Mending Flame Lord’s Heartgem and the idea behind true elements. And now, memories. Something to do with memories.

What were memories? How did they relate to the power beyond the Lords? How could the Archons use memories to contact him across the endless Void? How could—

He stopped that line of thinking. The Archons were for later. Right now he needed to think, to conceptualize, to imagine.

For the past few days, since meeting Walker, Leland had practiced breathing like the otherworlder had taught him. And while he had never been successful, that had yet to discourage him.

Subconsciously or not, Leland began to breathe in that strange, strange way. He pulled in breath, then tried to pull in more. He sputtered a cough, the same cough he had several dozen times already.

It all connected. All of it. Lords, memories, Rules, concepts, ideals, elements. But how did it connect to magic? To Leland’s lifeblood? What he strived for, what he wished to create? He had been gifted and cursed, the power of a Harbinger along with the reputation. He’d fought, tooth and nail, to show who he truly was, to protect the weak, to shove Aunty P’s nose in the fact that he was a good guy!

But swimming around his mind was a step beyond petty emotion and social acceptance. It was reality, the forces of nature colliding with the consciousness of human thought.

No one in the igloo-cave noticed, but his eyes began to sparkle with lavender and silver.

Someone then yelled into the igloo from outside, cutting the color from his eyes.

Everything faded, the edge of his realization fading like the calm of an ocean during low tide. The threads of ideas departed, spreading out into the winds of his mind. Questions turned to dust. The expansive notion of power gone, just waiting to be found.

All because of one person.

Leland’s eyes snapped to the entrance of the igloo, his hitched breath exhaled like a dangerous beast.

“What is it?” he growled, raw anger echoing against the icy walls.

Everyone stumbled a little, most of all the newcomer to this little group. She wore Palemarrow colors, a uniform expressing her rank as low, but now the lowest. She held papers, notes, letters – all threatening to vacate her hands from how hard she was trembling.

“Leland stop it,” Jude snapped, understanding far better than anyone what rage did to a person.

And Leland did. The heat in the air was quickly squashed by the cold ice walls, the stench of irritation forgotten like a sock with a hole in it. He breathed, accepting that today was just not the day things were going to start making sense. Another hint to another key, today was a victory.

“What is it?” Leland repeated this time far nicer.

“C-C-Captain wants to see you!” the woman looked at Isobel. “A-and you!”

“And us?” Glenny asked from the side.

The woman only nodded, quickly vacating the igloo right after.

“What was that?” Isobel then asked Leland.

“That was,” he began, “me almost connecting things. There’s power beyond the Lords, my dear Isobel, and I’m going to find it.”

She rolled her eyes. “And why? You have contracts, you have unlimited power already.”

Why did he want power? The question had been on his mind a few times, each paired with the answer of “to protect his friends and loved ones.” But he sure wasn’t going to tell her that. That would be too much ammunition for the former Inquisitor.

“Because it fascinates me,” was all he said, which wasn’t a lie.