“I have delved deep lately, perhaps too deep; and I see the grand design behind everything. I must go further still for the power I need to maintain my position.”

—Heretic Highking Jydaxar in a private letter to his lover, Aniasang, 18th Queen of Adelbern

Frustrated, Zaina got back to the point. “So you think we could be in here for a while?”

Gir nodded. “Likely a few hours. Why?”

“Well,” Zaina said, her voice hopeful, “while we’re stuck in here, I may as well try some magick, right?”

The Raolgrian’s face contorted. After a minute of silence, he gave a resigned sigh. In a serious voice, he said, “I’ve never mentored anyone, so I’m probably going to mess this up. Still, I’ll do my best to guide you. But remember: Riiva chose you for a reason. Always trust yourself.”

Zaina vigorously nodded as the ship trembled and shook.

He rubbed the back of his head. “Okay. The first key to accessing your magick is connecting with what Riiva wrote into you. It’s not about gaining power—it’s about revealing it within oneself. Unlocking what’s already there, so to speak.”

As her eyebrows wrinkled, she asked, “And what does that mean, exactly—in words normal people can understand?”

Gir paused, his lips slowly descending into a frown. “Riiva’s blessings are complicated to sort out. We only have a short time to serve, and most lancers never reach their true potential. I’m not sure what I could help you access here and now. This place doesn’t exactly have great ambiance for self-discovery.”

She refused to let him off the hook. “You told me to trust my instincts—to have a clear mind and a sense of purpose. That’s a pretty good start, I think. Lancer magick is based on wishes, right? So why can’t I just wish for Riiva to show me what I can do?”

A contemplative expression came over Gir’s face as he leaned back. “That is more or less how it worked for me. When my mentor trained me, she told me to search within myself. Beneath my subconscious—underlying the core of my existence—I found the strands tying everything together. Tying myself to the universe. And I pulled at them with a basic wish: I wish for my path. It’s worth a shot.”

Raising her hands and waggling her fingers to taunt him, she said, “I thought wishes were too mysterious to be defined by mere mortal words.”

Gir nodded with amusement. “They are, but when you start out, you’ll want to use words. It helps define what you can and can’t do until you get a solid grasp on your personal limitations. Eventually you won’t even have to think about it.”

Impatient to unlock her magick, she nodded and said, “Right. So, do I say it out loud, then?”

“No, not here with me. The strands Riiva wrote into you are buried in the core of your deepest inner world. When you’ve found them, you’ll know, and your heart will know what to do. It’ll be like thinking it, only it’ll feel like you’re saying it out loud—if that makes sense.”

Zaina’s lips pulled into a grimace. It didn’t make a lot of sense. “How long did it take for you to be able to do anything?”

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He scratched his neck and replied, “I was something of a late bloomer, to be honest. It took me two days to find the strands. Most are much faster. Riiva awakens within everyone in unique ways.”

“What about my cipher?” she asked. “Can I summon that?”

Gir shook his head. “Again, that I cannot teach.”

“Well, how do you summon yours?”

Gir’s head swayed back and forth as he considered his reply. Then, he said, “The lancer’s weapon is unlike other magick—ciphers come from a deeper place. Unlike the water I can manifest from the universe around me by being in harmony with my surroundings, my cipher comes from within—there has to be harmony of the self. My cipher is a part of me, an extension of me—a manifestation of my spirit. Like filing my soul into a point and holding it in my hand. The wish, the best I can put it, is: I wish my heart was a weapon.”

Confused, Zaina sighed. “You guys are so weird.”

After flashing a half-grin, Gir said, “No one said ancient magick is supposed to be normal.”

She clapped her hands, rubbing them together, and said, “All right, then—so I have to search inside myself. How do I do that?”

Gir shrugged. “Everyone has their own way. Some people are highly attuned to themselves. I suppose it’s like meditation. For me and many others, what worked was closing my eyes and letting go—whatever my mind conjured, I simply detached and let it drift by, falling into a deeper layer of myself. It took me two days to arrive at the strands. From there it gets easier. Eventually it’ll be instantaneous.”

Zaina nodded. Closing her eyes and letting go sounded easy enough. In a low voice she said, “I’m gonna try it now.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, and don’t force it. Let it peel back and fade away. It takes time.”

“Right.” Zaina closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Questions were still floating around, as well as worries and trauma, making it a difficult mess to swim through. Images of her family flashed by, her happiest memories—things she wanted to cherish, not let fade into the background.

A twinge of panic struck her heart like a discordant melody. If she let these things go now, would they disappear forever? Was she erasing these happy times forever by detaching from them?

With a shake of her head, she cast the thought out of her mind. Her eyes drifted toward all the pleasant memories spent with her family. They filled her with warmth until her heart overflowed.

Zaina took a deep breath and let go of the swirling top layer of her mind. The bubbles of memories, worries, and questions shrank—or was she being pulled back? The distance between them was growing—Zaina gasped at the sight of her memories stretched like a tapestry, interwoven with something else—

Then, it all disappeared at once, revealing a warm, sunny day—her favorite kind. Kitali, her father, mother, and siblings were all there, as were Beni, Two-dye Tohm, and Gir. There were no strands or threads of any kind.

Weird. This can’t be a memory, though…

“Hey, Zaina!” her father said, waving as the others set up a large table by the house. Her mother and younger brother were shuffling back and forth, bringing trays of aromatic, home-cooked food from the kitchen. “Come here, help us get the chairs!”

She jerked toward her family home—then froze. This wasn’t real. She had to let go. When she did, darkness pulled at the corners of her mind, peeling it back little by little until a layer of endless shadow was revealed. From that darkness, the phantasmal cloak formed and pulsed—echoing laughter emanated from it as she closed her eyes and covered her ears.

Then, light peeked through her eyelids—she opened them and looked around, and a relieved sigh escaped her lips. She was back on Demelia with her family, in the mental layer above the darkness.

“Something wrong, Zaina?” her own voice called out from behind. “Don’t you want to stay forever?”

Turning toward it, Zaina yelped and rose to her feet—the voice was coming from the ethereal shadow. The sky was black and gray, and Demelia was splitting apart.

A chorus of voices called out as it moved toward her. “Come to us, Zaina.”

Shaking her head, she tried to focus—this wasn’t real. All she had to do was close her eyes and let go. She jammed her eyelids shut and tried to detach from the chorus of ghastly voices. The world faded, and she opened her eyes and gasped—standing there was her mirror image. The reflection was dressed in a long, black cloak and carried a black sword in each hand. Her eyes were widened with crazed malice, the irises red with hatred.

A crooked smile came over her reflection’s face. “Now do you see yourself for what you really are? Your true heart—the inevitable future?”