“I suspect the distances are inaccurate, and its overall shape is an educated guess, but this here is Thanet.”

Cyrus stared at the map, and it felt like his whole world had been betrayed. If Gadir were the size of his two hands laid side by side, Thanet was represented by a stretch of land no larger than a fingernail. How could such an enormous place exist? Thanet was a little over one hundred leagues from tip to tip, and thirty leagues at its widest. Gadir must be over a thousand leagues wide, and another five hundred leagues tall.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “The maps in our castle always showed Gadir as not much larger than Thanet, maybe twice its size at most.”

Thorda gently put a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I suspect a great many things you know are lies and exaggerations. Every nation wishes to believe itself the strongest, the wisest, and the hardest working. Their gods are the true gods. Their kings, councils, and presidents are benevolent rulers laboring against cruel foreign despots. Sometimes it is true. More often, it is a comforting lie.”

“And what of you, and your stories of the Everlorn Empire’s crimes? Are they lies, too?”

“You’ve seen their cruelty with your own eyes,” his teacher said. “You need only imagine it performed again and again, upon a hundred different Thanets all across Gadir.”

Thorda left him to stew over what he’d learned. After a moment of debate, Cyrus ripped the map out of the book, located a hammer and some nails by Thorda’s forge, and then returned to the library. He pinned the map to the wall, directly above his preferred reading spot. Every day, it would be a reminder to the sheer size of his enemy. Every day, a reminder at how hard he must train to overcome such a foe.

CHAPTER 9

RAYAN

Rayan Vayisa gently folded his hands upon the old woman’s chest and flattened his palms against the ridges of her rib cage. He could feel the faint heartbeat within, but it was strong compared to the rattle of her lungs.

“Close your eyes, Alliya,” he said. “And repeat my words.”

He’d performed this exact same ritual weekly over the past few months, yet still he instructed the elderly woman at every step. The repetition calmed him, and it gave him strength when he may not have any left.

“Amidst our troubles you guide us,” they spoke in unison, Rayan’s voice aged and strong, Alliya’s wet and wilting. “Amidst our sorrows you comfort us. Grant us healing, Lycaena, we pray. May your brilliance and light chase away sorrows, precious goddess above all.”