“But...that’s what a Barrani corpse is.”

“No, Lord Kaylin, it is not. You have encountered those who have attempted to divest themselves entirely of the dependency of True Names; they are closer to this, but they are not the same; the attenuated connection exists.”

“The words flee the body when the Barrani dies.”

“That is what should have happened, yes. It is not what happened here. You cannot see it—or perhaps you could, if you knew how to look. Perhaps your familiar can aid you in this, perhaps not. The words did not leave the body; they were entrapped, and they were slowly destroyed. Devoured.

“They were devoured while I maintained this suite of rooms, these hidden cages.” She heard cold anger in his voice.

It is not anger, Hope said. It is beyond something so simple, so superficial.

She looked down the long hall. “Don’t destroy this place,” she told the Avatar. “Destroy the paintings if you must—you know how, now, and Terrano can help the two of you. But don’t destroy the paintings of the two humans—preserve them, if you can. I’m not sure what she intended—we don’t have True Names, and she must have known that—but she told them that she was sending them somewhere, hiding them somewhere, to save their lives.

“That’s clearly not what she intended, but...it’s possible we can free them. I think, if you destroy those paintings now, they might never return to their bodies.”

“I will do as you ask, Chosen. But I will, as you’ve suggested, destroy the rest of the containments.”

The Shadow spoke in a rumble.

“My friend believes that this was meant to create a space where those words could be siphoned for power; you are in danger if the marks of the Chosen can be likewise consumed.”

They could. Hope had eaten one.

“My words aren’t names.” Kaylin’s tone was quieter. “They don’t quicken life. They don’t sustain it or they wouldn’t be on my arms. Whatever purpose they’re meant to serve, it’s not that. The Barrani names—the True Names—can be used to sustain life, even if that life was not originally Barrani in nature.”

“The words have power, regardless. Perhaps Azoria did not understand the difference. Or perhaps she found a way to drain the source of her life of that power. She might still exist, but she would not be what she once was. Perhaps,” he added softly, “she required the power essential to Barrani life, and did not realize her own could be so consumed: the Barrani are eternal.”

“The Barrani can die,” Kaylin countered.

“You do not believe she is dead.”