-Crowned-

Drew was wearing so many shades of white he felt like a beam of light, captured and put on display for all of Deporta to examine.

And the sprawling courtyard in the center of Deporta, at the feet of the towers, seemed to hold the entire Forlorn population. Splashes of every imaginable shade of Orenda rumbled through the crowd like thunder, sparks at many people’s fingers.

The raisling, Reign, unsheathed his twin blades and held them crossed above his head. As though the massive throng had rehearsed the moment, the Forlorn people raised their left hands to the sky, hundreds of Orenda sparks dancing in the sunlight like a sea of candles set loose into the Glacian Sea to honor a great warrior’s departure into the next life.

Ryn Ashten stood to the right of Drew, raising her own left hand. The Orenda churning there like a captured beast was a solid quartz, almost transparent but warm like a flame. She seemed to detect his gaze and looked over at him with a slight smirk. Her eyes were a coppery color that matched her vivacious hair, which was braided back with white ties in an intricate fashion Drew couldn’t begin to comprehend in honor of the ceremony.

Drew didn’t summon his own Orenda. Helm had instructed him on the details of the ceremony and the role he would play the hour before the ceremony began, arriving just as suddenly as his disappearance the day before. For now, Drew’s job was to meet the crowd’s gaze with confidence.

He might have been studying the clouds behind the great swath of people more than their faces, but hopefully Helm wouldn’t notice.

The man was cloaked once more, although this cloak was as white as Drew’s tailored clothes and cloak. Once again, only his eyes were visible. Helm didn’t call his own Orenda forward, and Drew was suddenly intensely curious to know what kind of Orenda a man like Helm would wield.

He stood to Drew’s left side, and although Reign clearly led the ceremony, Helm was the silent pillar of authority. Various faces in the crowd were clearly studying the mysterious addition, trying to peer past the cloak to the man underneath.

“A new lineal stands before us today, ready to defend the core principles of the ancient Forlorn heritage with his weapons, his Orenda, and his life. I present to you Drew Thorne.”

Acting as one, the people sent a flare of multi-colored Orenda like a forest of smoke into the air.

Helm glanced over at Drew. It was his turn. Bowing deeply at the waist, all eyes on him, he straightened and invited his Orenda to come forth. It rushed forward as eager as Isle, ready to be set free.

Eyes glimmering a slight ruby, Drew released the crimson light. It drifted above the crowd of its own accord, ruby strands forming an outline of the city of Deporta. Gradually, the Orenda stretched to form the many small buildings and farms making up Whisten and Ananth before expanding like an incontrollable flame. Drew watched in awe, just as stunned and captivated as the Forlorn gathered in the courtyard. They were all looking up, pointing and whispering as they watched the ruby map continue to form.

The image continued to rise above them as the Orenda began shaping impressive cities with ancient but stately architecture to both the north and south of the three Forlorn cities. The Ruins. Drew almost gasped alongside the Forlorn people. Strange buildings he had never seen before grew up alongside the ancient structures, and still the ruby map grew until Drew knew they were looking at all of Ealias.

A future Ealias? An Ealias of old? Maybe a mixture of the two? Even Drew didn’t know. Helm’s only instructions had been to call forth as much Orenda as he could and then let it go free, like he had in the academy courtyard with the raisling.

Reign had made sure to mention that Callan Shadow’s display of Orenda had been one of the most impressive the Forlorn people had seen in years. But Helm had seemed confident that Drew wouldn’t make a fool of himself.

And his Orenda, acting of its own accord, was stunning every Forlorn present.

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Including himself.

The map etched into the sky was unlike any map Drew had seen depicting their world. The Ruins were either restored or the map was illustrating a time before the collapse. And the complicated details filling every spot of the the thick forests rumored to be Jadelin territory.

Drew couldn’t take it all in, but certain details stuck out to him. The mysterious spine of islands to the north of Deporta. A field of white flowers called only by the name of “Grace.”

And a city Drew had never heard of before.

Deporta Prima.

The first Deporta…

What had driven the Forlorn from their original homeland? And what still remained there?

Helm had warned Drew to make sure he expended every last drop of Orenda stored deep in his bones. He searched inside now, and was startled to find ruby power smiling back at him, ready to join its brethren.

Closing his eyes, Drew felt the tips of his fingers grow hot as he allowed the rest of his Orenda to join the impressive ruby display.

As soon as he felt every last reserve of Orenda leave him, he opened his eyes, just as curious as the many onlookers to see what his Orenda would teach them all.

There was the throne again, the ruby Orenda coalescing into a towering, intimidating throne room around everyone gathered for the ceremony. The detailed map had been replaced with an arched Orenda-formed ceiling, ruby crystals arrayed in bunches and hanging from the ceiling, casting down soft red light.

Helm, clearly prepared for this moment, gestured for Drew to kneel before the glittering throne. Without summoning his own mysterious Orenda, Helm seemed to pull a small portion of ruby Orenda to his outstretched hands. The power was quick to respond, and Helm fashioned a delicate crown, little more than a circlet, before approaching Drew and saying in a commanding voice, “The fate of the Forlorn will now forever be intertwined with your own rise and fall. You are charged with defending the people’s lives with your own. You are charged with fighting the hidden battles and winning the unknown fights.

“The gift of the Forlorn be bestowed upon you, granting you a special blessing only you will be master of. You will discover this gift in a moment of need, a moment of trial.”

Drew glanced up at Helm, uncertainty breaking through his carefully composed mask of confidence.

“The future of this people will be in your hands. Do not fear—you will be prepared for any upcoming obstacles. Your weaknesses will become towers of strength, your fears will become shields of truth and bravery. Your questions will be replaced with answers.”

Helm placed the crown on Drew’s head, and although it was made from ruby power, it felt real and substantial, like a crown fashioned from steel.

“Rise, Lineal.”

Drew stood, feeling a surge of strength wash over him as he looked at the people surrounding him. The young, full of life and expectation for the future, like him. The parents, determined to defend and protect their families. The children, too fascinated by the ancient throne room to frolic and roughhouse. And the old, faces as worn as the old maps of Ealias, but with eyes that betrayed a persistent spark of stubborn pride and hope.

His people.

They were all his people, and in that moment his concentrated efforts to look confident melted away like summer burning through the dark months of snow. He was capable of leading this people—not as their superior, but as an equal. Just another weak fool, crawling slowly up toward the light.

Helm and Reign hadn’t asked him to prepare a speech or mentioned that Drew needed to speak to the people at all—and Drew had been planning on keeping his mouth shut to avoid highlighting his inexperience and unworthiness, but the words were ready and waiting, like a bundle of javelins hungry to fly toward their target.

“People of Ealias, we are more than just Forlorn. We are the future creators and restorers of the Ruins. Of our true way of life, a life without the cloak and dagger of betrayal, infighting, and war. I am nothing more than a servant, working alongside you, learning from you. Becoming more each passing day, like each of you.”

He paused, looking at each of the unique faces meeting his gaze. The crowd was silent, taking in his every word, from the frailest old man to the tallest, most aggressive looking female warrior.

“I can’t promise to show the same strength as Callan Shadows. And if he returns, I will humbly cede my position. But the oaths I have made today will remain. May the Gatekeeper watch over us.”

And just like that, he knew how to end the lineal ceremony of the Forlorn. Recalling his ruby power, the throne room broke apart into a mist of red light which descended on the people. Concentrating, Drew closed his eyes once more and fashioned a crown in his mind to match the ruby one adorning his own head and directed the Orenda. He had never intentionally guided his Orenda this way, but it felt right, natural. It complied, showering over the people like slow-falling mist or snow.

When he looked out at the crowd, he smiled, his grin so broad he finally resembled Acelin in some regard.

Resting on the brow of every woman, man, and child, a delicate ruby crown.