“I had planned to never return to Ur,” Alec said. “But life has a way of changing our plans. At least it’s a place I know. More importantly, I have friends there—friends who are like my real family. Friends who will give up their lives to fight Pandesia.”

Alec nodded, feeling a new sense of resolve, reminded of his purpose.

“I should like to meet your friends,” Alec said.

Marco smiled wide as he turned and nodded.

“You shall, my friend. You shall.”

The two of them set off down the steep ridge, away from the Plain of Thorns and toward the city, and as they did, Alec felt himself slowly welling with a new feeling. The feeling of grief and emptiness that had taken over his spirit was now being replaced by one of anticipation. Of purpose. Of determination. Of vengeance.

Ur.

Perhaps, after all, he had reason to live again.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Merk leaned against the cold silver doors of the Tower of Ur, seated on the ground as he had been for days, despite the cold, the stiffness of his limbs, the hunger, refusing to leave. He would not accept the Watchers’ rejection. He felt, deep inside, more than he had ever felt anything, that this place was home, that he was meant to be here.

He also could not walk away in the face of the great riddle posed to him. Above all, Merk hated riddles. He loved reason and order, expected all things to follow a logical and rational pattern. He had always lived life as a rational man, even when he killed people. He did not like mysteries, and he did not like things that could not be explained—especially when they had to do with him.

And this mysterious riddle tormented him. He had entered a different realm in this place, and he was not on his own terms anymore. He realized that. Yet he was not used to being posed questions that had no simple answers. He did not like questions that could be answered in different ways for different people. He preferred to see the world as black and white, right and wrong, good and evil.

Merk grappled with their question as he sat there, his head hung in his hands, turning it over again and again. It reverberated in his mind again and again.

Are you worthy?

It was a question that made him ponder not only his reason for being here, but struck at the core of his entire life. It was a question that, he realized, had lingered at the edge of his consciousness for all his life. Why was he worthy? So many people had told him he was worthless in life, starting with his father. What made him worthy of serving Escalon? To be feared by other men? To have the skills that he had? Why was he, indeed, worthy of living?