A wall of Kogaloks separated Alize from the Temple, but a combination of magic and her impromptu forces carved a path through them. Above the steppes, the Temple stretched upwards into the moonlight. The massive stones comprising the outer wall stood formidable and unreflective. The wind assaulted them, trying to tease them to pebbles after so many centuries, but the stones still bore the weight of the sandstone and the world with enduring purpose. Even so, dirt crept upwards from the cracks between the stones, scouting for the earth that waited beneath it, patient with the small ambitions of men.

Alize fervently wished the steppes below were populated with trees instead of trampled grasses from the encamped armies. But the only voices inside her head were leering Kogaloks and always the same pale-faced man.

As she distanced herself from the battle, the night swallowed the adamant noise of the clashes. The great arch loomed above her, rendering the visitors hopelessly insignificant. The steps were spaced far apart and forced an awkward ascent with the same foot always leading up each stair.

Alize’s head still spun, as if an earthquake still rumbled, but the writhing madness originated from the echoes she carried. They pulsed through her with intense power and the sensation threatened to burst her open like the seeds of an overripe fruit.

She pressed forward with hunched shoulders and clenched fists, feeling the precariousness of her control amplify with each step. Surely the answers she sought would be within the Temple.

They had to be.

Alize’s shadow vanished into the darkness when she paused at the threshold. Her first footsteps on the Temple floor echoed until they became weak whispers hugging the cold walls. Centuries of devotees’ pious steps had polished the stones and Alize caught herself slipping as she began her ascent up the central staircase. It led into the frankincense and balsam-scented recesses of the edifice. The silence wrought the air thick and the sense of safety falsely comforting.

Alize found the Priestess by a fountain encompassed in such ample darkness it could have been bubbling blood. She lay shrouded in pale peony robes, her face contorted in pain and her hair stretching from her scalp, giving her the appearance of confronting the force of a gale. She wheezed and reached out to Alize with a boney hand.

Alize grasped the twisted fingers and the Priestess pulled her to the floor with surprising strength.

“I can’t restrain him much longer,” the Priestess murmured. “Onder will be too late to help me. You should have come sooner.”

Alize divided her attention between her shock at this intimate address and the vision she saw in her mind’s eye: the pale-faced Conjurer standing before the Temple.

“Your adversary has made stupid mistakes,” the Priestess continued, “but do not mistake his folly for weakness. He has amassed so many of the echoes already.” The Priestess gasped for breath, “I would have prepared you to fight him.”

“Why?” Alize leaned in close, gripping the Priestess’ feeble hand like a lifeline, “Why me?”

“It was never about you, but what you conceal.” The Priestess touched her face. “Did you never wonder why you inherited Rehsan’s soul?” The Priestess exhaled softly. She and Alize both trembled as they felt the Conjurer enter the Temple. The Priestess tensed and the power of her magic expelled him, but Alize could feel her life force wavering with the effort.

“Because I am Hrumi?”

“Hrumi? No child!! These are older stories! Didn’t Hesna tell you anything?” The priestess tried to say more but her breath faltered.

“They killed her when she tried!” Alize could hear the desperation in her voice. If this woman could not speak there would be no answers to her questions,

“I appointed Hesna as your guardian against the Deku.” The Priestess coughed on her words and Alize resisted pressing her harder. “She tricked them into relinquishing you once. They will seek you now.”

“So this Conjurer is Deku?” Alize asked weakly.

“No, child, listen. Onder knows the prophecy,” she choked but struggled to continue, “To realign the silver throne with echoes unabated.”

“Echoes?” Alize blanched. Not voices. Onder’s translation had been wrong, overlain with political implications that missed entire story of the magic at its heart. The prophecy foretold overthrowing the Kogaloks, not reinstating the Ginmae.

“This Conjurer has driven himself to madness trying to control the echoes. You must only speak his name to call them from him. They will come to you.” the priestess jerked against the Conjurer’s magic, “You already have everything you need to wield them.” She buckled in pain as the Conjurer’s onslaught on the Temple threshold continued. “The Deku will come for you, and then for everyone. Rouse Saikal,” she strained. “And then you must rouse Nocturne.”

And she opened her eyes to smile at Alize sweetly. Her own echoes flew out, and Alize acceepted them sadly, watching the woman’s last breath fade from her cracked lips.

At the same moment an earthquake rocked the Temple. Alize belatedly recognized the signs, the shrill ringing in her ears, but in the commotion, she had not paid them any heed. The Temple shuddered with the force and Alize knocked her knees on the smooth stones. A crumbling column sprayed dust and debris that clung to Alize’s sweat and coated her lungs.

The tremors ceased once more and Alize rose to her feet.

She sensed that the Conjurer had finally managed to enter the Temple, but could not think how to repel him. She glanced at the Priestess’ corpse and her mind revolted against the world’s seemingly inevitable march towards chaos.

With the Conjurer so close, Alize focused on him alone. He responded by wavering in her consciousness to prevent her perception. Alize began her descent down the stairs, harried by the darkness and knowing full well what awaited her somewhere in the massive cavern below.

Within the Temple arch, the world drowned in shadow except for the flickering torches and the starlight that shone overhead. By it, Alize could see a figure sprawled on the floor. The small puddle seeping beneath him reflected deep crimson.

“Leiz?” The figure rasped.

Alize’s stomach turned. No.

“Help me Leiz!”

She burst into a run, “What happened?”

Kell groaned weakly as she knelt beside him. His skin reflected pallid. When Alize eased him to his back, his torso’s flesh was slippery and warm.

Darkness obscured the wound so Alize invoked magic to illuminate their surroundings. When her eyes adjusted she nearly vomited a second time. The gash was deep, ripping through Kell’s stomach. There was no question that it was fatal.

“Kell, I can’t-”

“Use your magic, Leiz. It can save me.” Kell breathed unsteadily. He reached out to grasp her hand. Alize clenched her fist around her fingers, wishing to give him some of her own faltering strenghth. Then she closed her eyes and sought the echoes, pulling them to the forefront of her being until they glowed and rippled under her skin.

Her first attempt to cast healing magic failed and Alize held back a sob. The floor shone with blood and Kell’s grip on her hand slackened.

“Try again,” he whispered, “Pull the magic as close to me as you can.”

Alize nodded and concentrated. The echoes rebelled as she pressed them to the boundary of her person and held them, trying to extract the power she would need to save Kell. They burned her until she felt them suddenly tug out of her grasp.

She immediately pulled the echoes back, resisting whatever force dislocated them from her.

Only then did Kell begin muttering. He held his palms outwards, in a grasping motion, but it barely affected the echoes. “Please, Leiz,” he moaned, “I’ll die if you don’t help me.”

Alize resolutely directed her strength into recalling the echoes and burying them deep within the recesses of her being. At the same moment she grasped for her dagger and aimed for Kell’s heart.

He deflected her with inhuman strength, leaving her bones reeling from the collision.

Still when she looked back, she saw she had caught him in the cheek. The gash began to leak blood.

“You don’t fool me,” she snarled.

And suddenly she was thrown backwards, launched into the air until her body slammed against granite floor. Where Kell had slouched drenched in death only a moment earlier rose the lucid man from Alize’s nightmares.

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Alize bit back her terror as the Conjurer strode towards her. He stood even larger in person. His lips twisted into a smile that seemed painful against the grimace his face wanted to make.

“I have to admit,” even his voice was familiar, “if that had worked so easily, I might have been a little disappointed.”

Alize launched to her feet, brandishing her dagger. “State your intentions,” she demanded.

His responding laughter sickened Alize. “Retribution. And you and I should have been on the same side.” He flicked his hand and Alize hit the opposite wall before she even registered falling. “But now you only stand in my way.”

But when he tried to hurl her a third time, Alize blocked him with the echoes. She pushed them against him but his power was like a massive wall. She intuitively felt the futility of her efforts.

“You came too late and for what?” The Conjurer jeered. “All your life people strove to prepare you. Your tragic parents tried save you, but instead made you a target. Your mentor plied you with history, yet you possess no understanding. Your clan trained you to fight like an animal,” the man chuckled sweetly, and then lowered his voice to a clear threat, “and now that’s how I’ll treat you.”

Alize watched as the gash she had etched on his face closed as though it had never been. All the remained was the spilled blood on his cheek.

So this Conjurer had great power and none of the Magi’s principles.

He flexed his fingers, striking Alize with magic that sent her sprawling to the floor. “And now you have learned to love,” he drew out his words as he ambled towards her, “and it has made you reckless.”

Alize screamed as she felt the swell of his magic attack and this time she could not stop it from gripping her body. The magic dragged her to her knees directly before the Conjurer, immobile against the unseen forces controlling her. He reached out and idly plucked her dagger from her slackened grip.

But with his careless action, Alize’s courage reignited once more. She remembered Hesna’s often repeated moniker. “Never surrender before you’ve lost.”

Alize had been given a second chance. This time she would not squander the few advantages she had.

As the Conjurer brought the blade down towards her, Alize pressed her finger to her wrist. The rune lit up her skin as she invoked the bond to her dagger. The magic activated and Alize wielded it against him.

The Conjurer yelled, releasing the hilt. Alize smelled burning skin and for an instant the Conjurer flashed his palm towards her. She could see rune brandings in his flesh. His magic broke and Alize caught her dagger, the hilt cold to her touch.

It was bound never to be used against her.

Alize twisted free from his spell and established a stronger shield around herself. “Careful,” she warned, “perhaps you are not prepared to fight a Hrumi.”

The Conjurer recovered almost instantly, his eyes aflame. Alize felt his magic challenging her shield but he was not channeling his energy – not yet. He was waiting to find a weakness.

She had very little time then.

Alize sucked in her breath. “Arouah,” she uttered.

“You think I am Arouah?” the Conjurer laughed. “Well, I suppose I’m flattered but he won’t be happy to hear we can be so easily confused.” As he spoke Alize felt his magic flash around her, exploring her meager defenses.

“You bear his magic,” Alize said. Every moment she could distract him meant more time to devise a plan.

“So astute, but no. Our magics are entangled because we share a curse. But Arouah lost his fight against the Deku years ago. He doesn’t attract the echoes as I do.”

Attract. His word choice meant something. Only leaders could attract echoes, but surely the Soulless could not give echoes in death. But to attract echoes from living souls, they had to know him, to speak their veneration.

Who else knows his name?

In Alize’s mind the pieces flew together. “You don’t attact the echoes, they are sent to you.”

The Conjurer tilted his head and took a step towards Alize. His magic probed hers and she flinched at his incursions.

But despite her growing susceptibility, Alize became bolder. “You were a great hero in this land once.”

He drew himself up against Alize’s words.

“Warriors pray to you in moments of distress.”

“Fool of a girl! I know all this! Do you believe you can exert-”

“You know but you do not understand!” Alize tried to restrain her exuberance. Overconfidence risked disaster. She stood close enough to see the Conjurer’s flicker of doubt expression and for an instant she felt his magic falter as he internalized her words. Could it truly be that he did not know?

“Each time soldiers invoke your name it gives you power. Men, even princes, believe in you, honor your memory and your deeds.”

“Like a god among men,” he laughed.

Alize reviled the sound. “I am not overfond of such deceits.” she narrowed her eyes, “The stories say you defeated Arouah! You never earned the faith you bear! Those echoes are not bound to you!” She could see she had his full attention now, “You would do better to learn my name!”

Omurtak found the opening Alize had given him with her hubris, “You don’t even know your own name!” He felt her hesitate and drove his magic into the self-doubt Alize allowed herself.

Precisely as she had intended. She caught hold of his magic and held it while she spoke her words, “I call forth the power granted to you by misplaced faith!” She yelled, “Omurtak is no hero!”

Were Alize less terrified, she might have found Omurtak’s expression comical. He truly had not learned of this ancient magic, had not considered the truth in her words. He had accepted the increases in his power, channeled to him over the years without his recognition. He had never bothered to understand.

That left him vulnerable to her revelation.

Alize maneuvered the echoes to grip his magic and felt his power erode under her truth. The old Sargon’s face registered confusion, disbelief, fear, and finally immeasurable rage as the grey magic released its hold on the white echoes.

It was his fury that prompted Alize to reevaluate the extent of her victory. She had stripped him only of the echoes and they now hovered in the cavern, glowing eerie white in the darkness of the Temple. But it was a small comfort to Alize: Omurtak’s remaining gray magic still throbbed with potency.

And he was not defeated yet. Like the Kogalok in the wetland he raised his arms and roared a word of power.

Alize felt the gray magic peel away from the other Kogaloks fighting outside. From all directions, even through the thick stone walls, the gray magic slammed into the old warrior. The white magic flew with it, amassing with the trembling light, no longer tied to the corrupted Conjurer.

Belatedly Alize moved towards the echoes, wondering if she could absorb them to use against him, but Omurtak pushed her back. Alize stretched out her shield and he shattered it. Her dagger pried from her fingers and flew across the sanctuary, too far for her to call it. Alize racked her brain for something to fight him with. She stooped to press her hand against the ground. Her magic sprouted from the stones, stretching up to grasp the hem of his robe and twist the fabric into the floor.

His struggling gave Alize just enough time to dash behind him and touch the hovering mass of echoes. The misplaced faith had accumulated since before her birth, recognition of the valors of bravery and self-sacrifice. In an instant Alize made it her own, though she felt she might burst with the energy.

The echoes seared inside her but each time she used them, she understood their power more, and felt the capacities she could push them towards. She gave silent thanks to Hesna for preparing her to think on her feet. Omurtak hit her again, driving her backwards but she responded with a force equally formidable. This type of battle was far beyond Alize’s experiences and she fought with her full concentration.

The figures running up the stairs towards the great arch completely escaped her attention. There were four of them, three men and one woman. They had fought together to reach the Temple even as the world around them dissolved into brutal anarchy. Sosje led the charge, though the others had not been hard to convince of Alize’s location. Onder kept his shield around them and attacked anyone who tried to follow them. Davram approached the Temple facing outwards, his sword brandished.

“The Priestess is already dead,” Onder stammered as they came into sight of Alize’s private battle. He flicked his magic out to support Alize and it was this action that finally alerted her to their presence. She palpably glowed with pulses of the power she struggled to control.

Omurtak’s fury mangled his face.

Together with Onder, Alize repelled his magic.

Kell and Sosje took either side of her. Neither of them were Conjurers, but when they flanked Alize, they reinforced her in a completely different and absolutely necessary way.

“Sister,” Sosje cried, “show him the Hrumi will punish this violence!”

Sosje’s words emboldened Alize. The magic responded to her and augmented, fractured. It spiraled into bright light as it attacked Omurtak. He launched himself towards Alize once more but together she and Onder restrained him.

Next to Alize, Kell held out her dagger, retrieved from where it had fallen. She grasped the hilt.

“Trust in yourself!” Kell’s deep voice sounded like music in her ears. “You have to take a risk in order to get a good shot at him!”

His words resonated and Alize abruptly changed her tactic. Instead of pushing her shield outwards against Omurtak, she inverted it and channeled the magic inwards, using herself as the catalyst to transform the magic’s intention from destructive to formative. The new light spilled into her. It melted her insides into a molten mass but Omurtak could not recall the power back from her. Alize shot the gray away but the echo magic blistered so intensely she screamed as it filled her to the brim.

With her last moment of clarity, she flung her dagger. Every muscle in her body, from her stomach to her fingertips, focused to make her aim true.

Onder’s magic died, and the space beneath the Temple arch lapsed into the absolute blackness of a womb.

Across the sanctuary, Omurtak’s lifeless corpse lay with Alize’s dagger hilt glinting from where it had come to rest deep in his chest. The gray magic dissipated above him.

Kell caught his breath and sank beside Alize on the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as she tried to riddle herself back into her own body.

“Alize?” Kell wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. Sosje crouched at her side and pushed her hair from her face.

Alize struggled with her breaths. Her fingers curled around Kell’s hands in futile attempt to alleviate her inner agony.

“Onder do something!” Kell shouted.

But it was Davram’s voice that answered. “He can’t help her.”

“Stay with us!” But Kell had to release Alize because her skin was burning, too hot to hold.

And suddenly, Onder’s prophecy recited in Alize’s mind.

“I can’t, Kell,” Alize rasped, “I’m the specter…” but Alize choked as if smothering under flames. Her skin glowed brighter every instant.

“Immolated,” Davram finished her sentence as the harsh brilliance overpowered them. He wrenched Kell and Sosje onto their feet and pulled them away from Alize.

Her humanity faded as her body transformed into radiance, blinding even the darkness. Her heartbeat became the ebb and flow of the flames and her form burned.

A shattering earthquake rocked the Temple, toppling everyone but the living flame. Kell staggered to his feet to reach out to Alize but Davram caught his arm, holding him back.

“Don’t!” Kell shouted to Alize.

They watched as the small star consuming her expanded. It alighted into the air, arching away from their circle before vaulting into the night sky. Its light cast over the steppes and surrounding mountains and forests. The bloody soldiers, Hrumi and Magis and the shattered Kogalok forces below turned their gazes upwards in wonder. Across the expanse of steppes, goat herders and scribes, children and elders, thieves and judges, a band of pious assassins and one cursed Conjurer all turned their eyes to the strange skyward inferno.

As they watched, the firmament swallowed the star into darkness. Then, before a soul released a breath, the light burst forth once again, this time in millions of fragments. They splintered in every direction, borne over mountains, reflected on the Inland Sea, or cast directly below. The explosion rumbled through the land like a vindictive thunderclap. For that instant, the whole world was illuminated. But the radiance could not endure. As it wavered to embers, Time once again took up her eternal toil.