“What...” Gwen stammered. “What’s an ember of divinity?”

“It is the source of a given Beohur’s power. For example, you have been chosen to bear the Ember of Wisdom, which until a few hours ago belonged to Ryland. The other fourteen embers will be borne by each of fourteen other denizens of the Roots.”

Dozens of new questions sprang into Gwen’s mind, but she refused to let them get tangled. She just asked the one that felt the most immediate. The others could wait their turn. “You’re saying I could be as powerful as Ryland?” Not only had the King of the Beohur been incredibly wise and used potent godly magic, he was also a warrior without peer, and some legends claimed he was skilled at sorcery as well.

“It is possible,” the Herald said. “Only a portion of Ryland’s physical power came from his ember. The same is true of his prowess in battle. Furthermore, you will not inherit his weapon, Gritte, unless you become the next monarch of the Beohur.

“That being said, I have served Ryland for millennia. He may not have gotten many of his abilities directly from his ember, but the wisdom and good judgment the ember gave him assisted him greatly in acquiring those. So while you may be less effective in battle soon after being given the ember, in my experience and estimation, you also have great potential.”

“Oh. All right.” Gwen’s dreams of incredible strength and sorcery and a magic spear were dashed, but she didn’t need to be strong in battle. Even just gaining Ryland’s wisdom and sense of justice would be a gift beyond Gwen’s imagining.

“So, assuming this is all true,” Steffan said, his tone making clear that he was not assuming that, “what happens next? After you give Gwen the ember, I mean. Does she just become the next Beohur of Wisdom?”

“Not immediately. Each person who is given an ember will become a Torchbearer. Their task is then to travel to Selador, kindling their ember on the way. Only once a Torchbearer turns their ember into a full flame by reaching Selador do they become a Beohur.”

“They have to climb Ascangen?” Steffan asked. “The entire thing?”

“That is one of the reasons every Torchbearer is a Root-dweller. Additionally, Ryland wanted the Torchbearers to know what it was like to live without magic, without contact with Beohur or Elvar.”

“No,” Steffan said, rolling his eye, “we’ve only had contact with trolls and monsters. That’s completely different.”

“It is good you understand,” the Herald replied flatly.

“Is there a way for me to find the others?” Gwen asked. Maybe they could help each other, since they would all be on the journey together.

“Not at the moment,” the Herald said. “We Heralds are permitted to tell you the condition of the other Torchbearers, but not their names or locations. The Beohur could sense each other’s locations and communicate with their thoughts, but your embers will not be strong enough for that until most of the way through your journey.”

“I see.” She would just have to find them the hard way: asking around and hoping she ran into them on her travels.

“I’m still not sure I believe you,” Steffan told the Herald. “I mean, you’re clearly magic, but that doesn’t mean you’re a real spirit. You could be some sort of sorcery cast on us.”

Gwen nodded slowly, though she didn’t entirely agree with her brother. Even though she tried to be suspicious, even though she wanted the Herald to be wrong, something made her trust it. Hopefully if she was too credulous and Steffan was too skeptical, they would balance each other out and come to the right conclusion together.

“That is understandable, if inconvenient,” the Herald said. “I believe the only way I can prove this to you is to first prove it to your sister by giving her the ember.” The spirit turned to Gwen. “I would need your consent first, Gwendoline.”

“What...would I be consenting to?” Would this ember change her appearance? The Herald had talked like she would keep her memories and personality, which was good. Did accepting the ember mean giving some sort of divine promise that forced her to undertake the quest, or could she give the thing back if it was all too much?

“The ember will increase your physical strength and grace slightly. It will also sharpen your senses, including your sense of balance and your awareness of your own body. It will make you immune to diseases and resistant to poisons. All of these effects are universal among Torchbearers, though their intensity varies based on which ember a person bears.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

“There will also be effects unique to the Ember of Wisdom. Your memory will become stronger. Your thoughts will be more rapid, organized, and accurate. This will allow you to see patterns that elude others and eventually make predictions that verge on premonition.

“All of these effects will strengthen as you grow the ember. With enough training and experience, you will be nearly impossible for mortals to harm and you will be able to use magic that invokes the power of wisdom and justice.”

“I like the sound of that,” Steffan said.

Gwen had to agree. She couldn’t imagine being strong, smart, and resilient to be bad things, and that went double for being able to use magic. “I’ll still be me, though, right?” she asked the Herald. “Just with this extra power?”

“I am not here to mislead you. You will likely change a great deal over the course of your journey. Accepting the ember, however, will not affect your memories, appearance, or desires. It is purely additive, and will not change your personality.”

“I also like the sound of that,” Steffan said. “That is, if you’re telling the truth.”

Which, of course, the Herald might not be. This could all be some sort of trick to get Gwen to accept an evil sorcerer’s influence, and then she’d be in a magical thrall for the rest of her life. Maybe they were playing on her worst fear of the Beohur being dead and her deepest desire of using her faith to help Ascangen.

“If this were some sort of ruse,” the Herald said, “what do you imagine that I, or some pernicious master, would stand to gain from it? Sorcerers are exceedingly rare in the Roots, and neither of you are powerful or influential enough to make you compelling targets.”

“Or that could be why you’re targeting us,” Steffan said. “People who do have power and influence probably protect themselves with sorcery of their own, but us poor souls at the bottom of the tree will agree to anything for a chance at a better life.” His voice had a rare bitterness to it.

That argument felt a bit ridiculous to Gwen. Even if she and Steffan were easier to trick, the Herald was right that not much would be gained from doing so. They were just shepherds. Steffan was fine with a sword, sure, but so were the soldiers at the forts. And all Gwen did was read and pray.

“There’s no other way you have to prove who or what you are?” Gwen asked the Herald.

“Unfortunately not. I believe I have proven that I exist and that I am in some way magical, but the only way to prove that I am specifically the Herald of Wisdom is to give you the Ember of Wisdom. I can make many arguments that I mean you no harm, such as that there would be plenty of easier ways to gain power via sorcery and that my story would be unnecessarily convoluted as a lie, but I cannot offer any true proof without your consent to receive the ember.”

“Well, that’s a problem,” Steffan said. He put his hand on Gwen’s and stared the Herald down. “It’s too risky for her to accept without proof.”

Was that true, though? As far as Gwen could tell, it was too risky for her not to accept. Ascangen needed wisdom and justice. Those qualities seemed rare enough among humans as it was. Gwen couldn’t imagine what would happen to the world if people lost them entirely.

“Two last questions,” she said. “Why me, and what happens if I say no?”

“Ryland gave me no instructions past delivering you the ember. I do not know why he chose you in particular. Perhaps he knew you would not refuse it. If you do, however, then I suppose it will stay with me indefinitely.”

In that case, Gwen really couldn’t risk turning the Herald down. That would leave the Beohur without their voice of wisdom and justice.

“I’ll do it,” she said, standing and pulling her hand away from Steffan. “I consent to being given the Ember of Wisdom that used to belong to Ryland, King of the Beohur.” She was choosing to have faith. The Beohur had sent her a sign, and all of her piety meant nothing if she didn’t trust in it.

“Faith continues where evidence falters,” the Herald said.

Steffan’s expression was one of pure shock. “Are you serious? You truly believe this?”

“I do. And even if I wasn’t sure...”

The Herald nodded. “There is too much at stake.”

“My sister is at stake.” Steffan took his sword from the peg near the door. “If this thing possesses you...”

“Then that sword would only harm Gwendoline,” the Herald said. “You are lucky you will not need it.”

The Herald stepped out of the table to stand before Gwen. Reaching out, he placed his hand on--or, rather, through--her chest.

Warmth spread from him, suffusing first Gwen’s chest, then her head, then her entire torso before spreading down her arms and legs to reach her fingers and toes. Her cheeks flushed, her fingertips tingled, her breath raced.

Then, just as fast as it had come, the warmth faded. It left her fingers and toes, then her limbs, then her head and torso. The only place it remained was in her chest.

The Herald stepped back into the table.

“Do you feel any different?” Steffan asked.

Gwen’s first instinct was to say no. True, she could now see every grain of wood in the table, smell even the lukewarm tea she hadn’t touched, feel her weight shift slightly as she stood. But she couldn’t remember being any other way. This felt natural, as if it was how she had always been. As if it was the purest physical and mental expression of her soul.

But that in and of itself was different. Until now, Gwen had always been deeply aware of her own mortality, her place in the world as vulnerable, easily harmed. That sense of fragility, of insignificance, was gone. So while she didn’t feel strange in any way, she knew logically that she had changed.

This change also came with a new awareness. Gwen couldn’t sense where the other embers were located, nor how powerful they were, but she could feel that they existed.

Gwen could also feel that the Beohur, the all-powerful creators of Ascangen whom she had worshiped dutifully for a decade, no longer existed.

#