Hope lifted his wings, pushed himself off Kaylin’s shoulder, and came to stand on one of this being’s fingers. It made him look both tiny and far more transparent; she could see the entirety of the being’s hand through Hope’s body. He seemed to flicker there, and almost without thinking, she reached out to grab him.

The being looked down at her. “I mean him no harm. But he is ancient, and if whimsical, he has the ability—defined as life is defined—to choose his own purpose. I wished merely to discuss what the consequences of those varied choices have been.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, retaining her hold on Hope, “but we don’t have time. Azoria is out in my plane of existence, and she’s trying to kill most of my friends.”

“Most?”

“Some of my friends aren’t in Azoria’s strange mansion, or she’d be trying to murder them, too.”

“I see. I wish to speak with him, but I understand at least the constraints of time. What I do not understand is the loss of purpose. I do not understand why I exist as I now exist at all. I understand only one thing: you woke me. I believe, given the extent of my injuries, this person you sought tried. But you have the words of my people; she did not; she was not Chosen.” His eyes narrowed. “They are not your words, but they are yours to use. There is a telling there that I have not seen before. They are your purpose. And if they have spoken to me, if they have chosen to wake me, it means I am needed once again.”

“For what?”

He looked genuinely confused, and when he answered, his words were syllables with no meaning to Kaylin’s ears.

Hope, however, squawked. Loudly.

“It is not yet time,” was the soft reply—but this time, Kaylin could understand it. “And I am not yet whole enough to face any duty. Come, Chosen, find what you must find, do what you must do. I must think now.”

Kaylin nodded. Closing her eyes, she looked for Azoria’s name.

She had never asked any of the cohort whether her knowledge of the name she had carried back to them would have given her the power of control over them when the names were almost unattached to their corporeal selves. She expected to find the remnants of a Barrani True Name, thin and almost devoid of light.