Author’s note: Thank you to the many readers who have sent me typos! I’ll be correcting all of these in the next printing in about a week, so send me any more that you find!

So far, I believe the record is held by Austin M. from Atlanta, Georgia, who found 12 typos.

Where we last left off in chapter 23 . . .

In the entrance to the vault stood a figure, bathed in light, hands stretched high. The figure’s robes shone as if on fire, and power radiated from his being.

Then the figure dropped his hands, and the light faded until Durrin could clearly see his face.

It was Cymer.

The old avir stepped quietly forward. No surprise or anger was evident on his face—only the same piercing look from the records room in Irongate Isle.

“Durrin,” Cymer said at last. “Arise. Have a seat.”

A couple of the stone columns had ledges acting as benches. Durrin numbly rose from the floor and sank down onto one. His head still swam in a sea of emotions, and his muscles felt weak and sore, but the disabling terror and despair had vanished.

Cymer sat on a nearby ledge, facing him. Durrin looked around, puzzled. Cymer hadn’t brought any light source with him, but the chamber was lit with a soft glow.

“So,” Cymer said. “Do you want to talk?”

A thousand thoughts swirled in Durrin’s brain. The truth about Arvanon’s reign and the Guarantee of Trade. Halorn’s words about the scroll of Durrin’s fate. The dark force that had almost destroyed him a moment ago. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“You broke into a Luminant Order shrine known as the Sanctum of Kings,” said Cymer. “You descended into the burial crypt of the royal house of Everborn, came to grips with your conscience, and was emotionally and mentally assaulted by a demon of nearly unspeakable power, bent on your eternal destruction.” He smiled slightly. “There. I began for you.”

“So the shadow was real?” Durrin asked. “I didn’t imagine it?”

“The demon was real,” Cymer said. “But not corporal. It did not step through the curtain of sight to inhabit the physical realm. If it had, you and I would likely be dead right now. No, it stayed in the unseen realm. But the depth of your terror allowed you to glimpse its form for a moment.”

Durrin stared at the spot where he had seen the shadow. “So everything Halorn said . . . is real,” he murmured.

He looked to King Everborn’s sarcophagus, then back to Cymer. “The Guarantee of Trade. Why was it revoked three years ago?”

Cymer stood and strode over to the king’s burial place. “Each year, the haeber shortage became more severe. We barely had enough for ourselves, much less enough to meet Calamar’s needs. But King Arvanon had left a legacy of peace, and our regents did all they could to follow in his footsteps.”

“The war hawks in Calamar, however, were relentless. Clashes between merchants became ever more frequent, and Calamar moved more and more battalions to the border. At last, our regents concluded that war was inevitable—and it no longer made sense to sell to our enemies what we needed so badly at home.”

Cymer ran a hand over the lid of the sarcophagus. “Our regents were never able to build a relationship with Emperor Stoneclaw. If King Arvanon had still been alive . . . who knows. History is full of what-ifs.”

Durrin stared at his hands. Salidar had lied to him and used him. But Durrin held a fair share of the blame. He had lived in Elandria for many months. He had heard of Arvanon’s character and knew his reputation among his people for being a peacemaker. But Durrin’s insatiable quest for power had muted both his conscience and his reason.

“Cymer—am I doomed?”

“Doomed how?”

“The stain of blood on the scroll of my fate—can that ever be erased? Or is my soul inescapably condemned to the Void?”

He looked up and met the avir’s gaze. Cymer stared at him for a long moment, his eyes seeming to pierce to the center of Durrin’s being.

“You are not doomed,” the avir said at last. “Not yet.”

Something kindled in Durrin’s chest. It was a fire unlike any he had felt before. Hope.

“What must I do?”

“You must change,” Cymer said. “You must fix what you have broken. You must replace darkness with light, conflict with peace, hatred with friendship. It will not be easy.”

Durrin cast his thoughts to the war gripping both Calamar and Elandria, the thousands in danger of their lives, the millions suffering from famine and deprivation—and the queen in mortal peril.

“Where do I begin?”

“Your heart knows already,” said Cymer. “Listen to it.”

Chapter 26 coming Tuesday, April 22.

This story has 57 chapters, a prologue, and an epilogue. I’m releasing a chapter every Tuesday through mid May.

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What is Durrin going to do now? Find out next week:

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