Logical, perhaps even true. Emi was not starved or battered. Even Kael spoke highly of his days within the fortress.

But fear of my craft was potent. If it was not so important—or formidable—melders would not be bound into servitude.

“Craft was meant to bring peace and light to our lives,” King Damir went on. “That peace has been achieved with most craft, and you are part of that.”

I blinked to Prince Thane, the lone face I even dared consider trusting. The prince gave me another smile, another nod.

“There is not much known on melder craft,” I admitted. “Some say it harms the crafter. I’ve heard lore that it is a curse of greed.”

“Yes, and lore can often turn to fable with mere glimmers of truth left behind. Craft did not harm Fadey unless he did not use it often,” Damir said. “When craft awakens, it must be used, Lyra. Yours has done so. You’ll have no choice but to use it or it will become a beast scratching to get free. I am quite protective of your craft. You’ll note there are few here to witness our meet.

“The strength and power of melders is where those twisted tales of folklore emerge. There is more purpose to your gift than you realize. Greed to have the power I will teach you has become part of the frightening myths. They are believed enough that I have chosen to keep melders less known for their safety from our enemies. It was only beyond these gates that Fadey was lost to us.”

My thoughts spun and I bit back tears. I’d never heard all this, but there was something about the way the king spoke that left me wanting to believe it. I’d noticed a constant hum of warmth beneath my skin since suturing the bone to Kael’s spine. A new, unseen presence in my blood.

“Now.” The king tightened his hold on my hand, patting the top, almost fatherly. “You successfully fastened a soul bone to the living, true?”

I drew in a sharp breath. The dark figure in the mists back in Skalfirth had hissed something about souls. I shuddered, tearing my thoughts away from the shrieking glow of the haunt that consumed me. “What is a soul bone?”

“Bone taken from the dead,” the king said, “marked in runes that welcome the strength of that soul gone to Salur to unite with the ones left in this realm. That is the true power of the gods, the final gift in the legends of the Wanderer.”

Just like Gammal’s tales. It was the corruption that destroyed him.

King Damir did not seem to take the disastrous end of the Wanderer with any trepidation and barreled on. “A melder is a bridge to the magics. A connection that was meant to unify two beautiful affinities—the dead and the living. That is the bone you placed in Skalfirth.”