I believe, for once. Arath has a good heart. I have trained him as well as I know how.

If there is someone who can defy Oblivion, it is him.

Yet, I worry still. Is my trust false? Do I simply wish to believe in something, anything, after what happened with Verys?

-E’vin Yaenke, circa 2,899 Post Fall of Meridian

Within moments of reentering the Forum, Ryla could tell something was off. Everyone was looking toward the front of the room, rather than mingling. Almost all of them wore grim expressions, far from the usual pretense of cheeriness that accompanied such a social event.

“Now?” Ryla heard Traegus mutter. He was a good head taller than her, and he was standing on his toes, gazing at something Ryla could not see. “Of all times, now?” He shook his head, then turned back to Ryla. “You’re going to want to listen carefully. That’s all I’ll say.”

Ryla opened her mouth to ask what in Torment he meant by that, but he slipped into the crowd, ignoring her as she tried to grab his arm. She tried to push through after him, then cursed under her breath as she lost sight of him in the torrent of people.

“Thau you, Traegus,” she muttered. The bustle continued, several hushed conversations breaking out among the nobles.

Naidi. Ryla thought she knew where her table was from here, and Naidi would still be there. Maybe she would know what was going on.

She made her way through the crowd to the table. Thankfully, Naidi was still there — and she was sitting on the table, of all things, legs crossed. Didn’t the girl understand manners?

No, Ryla reminded herself. She doesn’t. She’s Darian, not Talar. She tapped Naidi on the shoulder, and her friend turned.

“Oh! You’re back. Just in time, Larsh says she’s making a big announcement. Something about her heir, and some other thing?”

“So that’s what this is about,” Ryla muttered. “Great.” She blinked. “Wait. Her heir?”

“Yeah. And something else, too, I guess. Something even bigger, she said.”

Bigger than announcing her heir? A part of her twisted in knots of dread.

But the heir… it was finally going to be made official.

“Are you ok?” Naidi asked. “You look… pale.”

“I’m fine,” she said, straightening. “I just… the heir, you said?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

Ryla hesitated. “You’ll see,” she said. “Just wait here. And be ready to leave; they’ll probably be asking you a lot of questions when this is all done.”

“That… just makes me more confused.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” Ryla turned. I need to talk to Larsh about this. Before she does something stupid. “I’ll talk to you later, I promise.”

“Ok then.” Concern crossed Naidi’s face, but she didn’t protest any further as Ryla walked away, pushing toward the front of the room. It wasn’t easy, the Forum was far more crowded than it had been when she’d left for the meeting with Traegus, and no one seemed to notice her trying to make her way through the quiet circles of conversation.

Probably should be grateful not to be noticed, Ryla thought. Once Larsh announces this, that’ll end real fast.

Finally, she saw Larsh, conferring quietly with a pack of politicians — heads of large Houses, mostly. They did not look happy, though Larsh wore a bemused smile on her face.

“I’m afraid your opinion on the matter is of no consequence,” Ryla heard her say as she approached. “I am the Cunning One, and the Endowed.”

One of the women — the head of House Nythlas, if Ryla remembered correctly — stiffened. “Are you threatening us?”

“I am,” Larsh said. “I am indeed.” She stepped back as the nobles stared, aghast, her gaze turning to Ryla. “It seems the subject of our disagreement is here. Ryla, come.”

Ryla tensed as the nobles’ eyes turned to her. For a moment, she wilted under their sour gazes.

Then she steeled herself, turning to Larsh. “Now?” she hissed. Larsh was only a few inches taller than she, but right now that seemed half a planet of difference. Fortunately, anger overcame her fear, at least for the moment. “Traegus told me you were going to make it official, but now?”

“What better time than now?” Larsh mused. “One can only delay destiny for so long.” Her expression hardened. “Besides, perhaps this will make you take certain responsibilities more seriously.”

“Void isn’t a responsibility,” Ryla snapped. “It’s a curse.”

“You are wrong,” Larsh said. “But you will realize I am right, I think, in time.” She waved a hand to the watching noblemen. “You are dismissed.” Noting their angry postures, she raised an eyebrow. “And I would suggest you leave. I have been far too patient with you already.”

Ryla folded her arms as the nobles left. “Now isn’t the time,” she repeated.

A part of her screamed at herself for protesting. Wasn’t this what she wanted? With the power Larsh was about to give her, she could start making a real difference, even before the assassination.

And after it…

She would be Cunning One. Leader of Talar. One of the most powerful women in the civilized galaxy. Perhaps the most powerful. Something she’d always wanted.

Why did that disturb her now?

“You don’t decide that. And I will not delay this any further for your opinion.” Strangely, her face actually softened for a moment. “I am sorry, child. I do this because, when this is over, the world s will need a leader, and it cannot be me.”

Her face became steel again, and abruptly she was ablaze with Ever, without even closing her eyes; Larsh was a master at Reaching. She shot into the air, hovering near the ceiling so that all could see her, a beacon of blue light above them.

“Silence!”

She used Ever to amplify her voice, and Ryla had to clamp her hands over her ears. They still rang as the room went completely still. Conversations ended, the crowd turning to face Larsh. In the back of her mind, Ryla felt the echoes of the nobles, afraid, annoyed, awed. Most often all three.

But they all watched. If there was one rule in Talar at present, it was that you did not test Larsh’s patience.

And I’m about to attempt a coup against this woman. Ryla shivered.

“Silence,” Larsh repeated, and though she did not use Ever this time, her voice still rang out clear and loud. “I have important announcements to make.”

More than one, Ryla noted. What was it that could be more important than the succession?

“First, I am announcing my heir.” This sent hushed whispers flowing through the room— though no one dared do more than whisper. Larsh turned to Ryla.

“Ryla Magala is who I have chosen. Note that this announcement is only a formality, the proper rituals are already completed.”

“Without our consent,” Ryla heard the noble woman from earlier mutter. She glanced at Ryla, and there was venom in her gaze. Ryla could feel her thoughts; she was debating assassinating Ryla.

Try it, Ryla thought, giving the woman a glare. I dare you.

The noble woman’s eyes were not the only pair that fell on her, though. As the room shifted to watch her, Larsh stretched a hand toward Ryla.

“My apprentice is incredibly competent. She has shown prowess in tactics and courage in combat. Above all, she has proven her tenacity and grit. She will make a fine leader when I am gone.”

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Which hopefully will be soon, Ryla thought bitterly. She was immediately grateful for the small trace of Ever she’d left burning in her veins.

“I would like her to rise,” Larsh continued, “and give her acceptance.”

No choice, Ryla noted. But then, who would refuse an honor such as this? Perhaps in more peaceful times, Ryla could’ve avoided the responsibility.

Not now, though. Not while her brother was in danger.

She swallowed, then lit up with Ever, and shot up into the air beside Larsh.

“My name is Ryla Magala,” she said. Her voice felt oddly small in this place; she’d never mastered Larsh’s trick to magnify her voice. “I hope to serve you well, when my time comes. In the way we all deem best for Talar.” Nervous excitement began rising in her chest. “Most of all, I hope to be a woman worthy of this calling.”

She swept her eyes over the crowd. This is my chance, she realized. To denounce all this, publicly. To make a difference.

Yet, Larsh was still hovering right beside her. She hesitated, falling silent for a long time. Too long. Finally, she sucked in a deep breath, then nodded. “That is all I have to say.”

She cringed as she descended back to the ground. It was a poor speech, but she’d tried to sound at least a little like her uncle had; he’d always been good with the public. It was charismatic enough it earned her a few modest claps as she drifted back down to the ground.

I don’t deserve those. She’d backed down, avoided saying what she really wanted to say. Maybe she was a coward.

No, she chided herself. I just have to be prudent right now. If I had upset Larsh, she might suspect I’m about to try something, and the entire plan could’ve been ruined.

It still seemed a flimsy excuse.

Larsh pursed her lips, evidently unsatisfied, but turned back to the crowd. “That is not all. I have new campaigns to announce, three of them.” Eyes bulged at that, but Larsh kept talking. “Terria, Arathel, and Irinor will all be attacked within the next weeks. As usual, this information is confidential; if it is leaked, there will be executions. Any of you who not already assigned a campaign will head to the war front, and Traegus will give you your assignments shortly. Questions?”

Mouths tightened, and Ryla felt a flood of hesitant thoughts from the crowd rush over her, but no one voiced any of the obvious concerns. Yes, the army couldn’t sustain three more campaigns, yes, their supply lines were already stretched thin, but when Larsh demanded something… well, it was better to simply deliver that thing, rather than face the wrath of a memory burner.

“As I cannot preside fully over all our current battlefields,” Larsh continued, “I have elected to give Shal Magala partial control over the armies on Grahala. If any of you have concerns, go to her before you come to me.”

Ryla’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “What?”

She wasn’t the only one. Several nobles let out cries of disbelief; this was ludicrous enough that even Larsh’s presence couldn’t quell them. No one commanded an army so young, let alone an entire campaign.

“She isn’t even twenty years old!”

“The heir was bad enough, this is insanity!”

“Why her? Her House has barely a coin to their name!”

“Enough!” Larsh’s eyes raged with blue light, and her voice rang so loud Ryla had to clamp her hands over her ears. “Enough.” She lowered her voice, though it still echoed loud enough for all to hear. “This is not a matter up for debate. The Cunning One has spoken, and she will not speak again.” She smiled darkly. “At least, I suspect you do not want her to speak again, yes? That would have… unfortunate consequences.”

Immediately silence followed. Larsh’s grin widened. “Good. Now for why I really called you here.”

Larsh actually hesitated a moment before continuing. When she spoke, Ryla felt chills run up her spine as she took in the words.

“I intend to go through the Testing.”

For once, there was no reaction from the crowd, at least not an audible one. It seemed the news was too consequential for a mere gasp to suffice. People tensed, eyes bulged, but a deathly quiet hung over the room.

“I have procrastinated this for too long,” Larsh said. “I admit, confronting the Confederacy so boldly makes me nervous. But it is time.

“I cannot fight Oblivion without a unified Delti behind me. The Confederacy will bow to my authority as the hero of the prophecy, or it will fall.”

She paused for a moment, then nodded. “I have scheduled my Testing for two months from now. Until then, the campaigns will continue. The cause will continue. May Okron be with us. The Forum is dismissed.”

She left, descending to the ground and walking away without another word. Ryla did not miss her dismissing the blue glow of Ever, then summoning Void in its place.

She claims to be the Endowed, then in the same breath uses the very essence of Oblivion. Filth!

She growled softly, then closed her eyes and refreshed her Ever. That woman! Ryla would crush her for her heresy. She would drive the Desolation dagger straight into Larsh’s arm, then plant her own blade deep in the Cunning One’s chest, then twist, and watch as the blood squeezed itself from her veins…

Red light flashed around her. Ryla cursed, forcing her mind to clear, forcing her rage backward. Not yet. Certainly not if Oblivion was influencing her.

Could he, now that she’d burned Void? She didn’t know, and that worried her.

Eyes fell on her as Larsh departed, and she had to wave aside several questioning nobles as she followed the Talar leader — including the noble before who had thought about assassinating Ryla. She made sure to meet that woman’s eyes, putting as much fury in her gaze as she could.

The noblewoman did not wilt, though. She just met Ryla’s gaze with equal anger.

That one will be trouble, Ryla thought. Thaus, I don’t have time to deal with this now. She stopped staring at the woman and continued onward, following Larsh through the backdoor of the Forum. Guards posted there prevented the others from following, though, thankfully, they did not stop Ryla.

The door led into a hallway, which in turn led to another door that Ryla suspected led to a landing pad outside. Larsh was almost at the second door when Ryla called out to her.

“Why?”

Larsh paused at the door, a mask halfway to her face. She didn’t turn, though.

“Why?” Ryla repeated. “You don’t even believe in the prophecy. Why do you keep lying?”

“Do not question me, girl.” Larsh’s voice was soft. Unsure. Ryla hesitated, then continued.

“Why?” she repeated. “I keep you asking you that. Why all the bloodshed? Why do we have to wage war to unify Delti, when the Confederacy exists? Why is any of it necessary?” She shook her head. “But you never answer. And I’m sick of it, Larsh.”

A part of her shrunk back, terrified by her own boldness. But most of her… well, most of her meant what she said. She didn’t understand Larsh, and Okron, it was hard not to hate her because of that.

Larsh was silent for a long moment before she finally turned. She did not meet Ryla’s gaze, and Ryla was surprised to see tears in the Talar leader’s eyes as she stared down at the mask in her hand.

“I told you I wish it weren’t necessary,” Larsh said softly. “I always tell you. Why isn’t that enough?”

“For this kind of slaughter? Nothing is enough.”

A wistful smile crossed Larsh’s face. “Have you ever visited Torment, Ryla?”

“No. Who searing has?”

“I have.” Larsh let that statement hang for a long time before she continued. “The legends are true, all of them. There are fields of people there who do nothing more than grip their skulls and scream as they sink into endless tar. There are others who thrust themselves into rivers of lava, desperately hoping that the flames will end the pain. They never do, but they try it anyway.”

She turned her gaze up, finally meeting Ryla’s gaze. The tears were gone now, replaced with cold determination. That, and the red glow of Void leaking through her irises. “I will do whatever I must to get rid of that fate. For you. For Hyran. For all of us.”

Ryla didn’t know who Hyran was, though she didn’t care enough to ask. “And what about the Endowed?”

“A myth.”

“The Tower says it is real.”

“The Tower says many things.” Larsh sighed. “Hope itself is a myth, Ryla. I will fail as all before me have, I think. It does not matter. None of it matters. That is why I must keep fighting. Because maybe, when he’s defeated, it will.”

“So that’s what this is all about? Your fragile ego?”

Too far, a part of her warned. You need to wait!

She ignored it. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being bold. Even when that boldness crossed the line into recklessness. Still, she expected Larsh to lash out. Or at least dismiss her, as she always seemed to do.

“Have you ever wondered why I need an heir?” Larsh asked. “Not all the Cunning Ones have selected one. There has been many a succession war because the previous leader was convinced he would become an Eternal.”

When Ryla did not reply, she smiled wistfully. “I will kill myself, when this is done. There is a way, I have heard, to permanently rip apart a soul from the inside. That is why I selected you. When I am done, you can have your perfect world, Ryla. Maybe you can even bring them all back from Torment, and undo all the terrible steps it took to get there. All you have to do is wait. That’s all I ask of you. Wait, and trust.”

She finally fastened the mask onto her face, then opened the door, stepping out into the next hallway — where Ryla could not follow, not without her own mask.

“You didn’t answer my question! Why?”

Larsh looked back, for one moment. The tears were back.

She closed the door without another word. A few moments later, Ryla heard an engine whine outside — Larsh’s cruiser, undoubtedly. She huffed in frustration, but she knew she couldn’t follow, not without poisoning herself.

I shouldn’t follow anyway. I really can’t afford to push her, not now.

And yet, she could not avoid the rage — and the fear — building within her. For if Larsh passed the Testing… well, Ryla knew Larsh’s ambition well. If she took control of the Confederacy, it would not end there. She would wage war on Khazath. When that was done, she’d wage war on Torment. If that was ever done, she’d find some other reason to keep the conflict going, hoarding power for herself, always giving some excuse why it was ‘necessary’.

Yes, if Larsh lived, she’d become the greatest tyrant since Mekezia of old. And Ryla might be the only person able to stop her.

That terrified her even more than the thought of her brother dying.