“Well, the Vu Trin tried to kill me once already, but I escaped.” I let out a hard breath. “I’m a weapon the East is going to need. Whether they realize it or not. Because Vogel’s Wand... I think it’s the Shadow Wand talked about in all the myths.” I reach down and draw the Wand of Myth from the side of my boot. It glows a soft, pearlescent green in the dim light, humming with a barely perceptible vibration against my palm.

“Is that the same wand I used in Verpacia?” Trystan asks.

“The very same,” I affirm. “I think it’s the mythical counterforce to Vogel’s Shadow Wand. The Sacred Wand of Myth. But...if it is, we’re in trouble. It’s nowhere near as powerful as Vogel’s Wand. It seems to hide from it.”

“How did it turn green?”

“It just...did. Out in the desert. I think it’s coming out of some type of dormancy.”

I tell him of the Wand’s gift of perfect aim and how it brings images of Watchers at unexpected times. I slide it back into my boot, a shimmering sense of rightness washing over me.

“But perfect aim isn’t enough,” I rue. “I need to get my Mage power unbound. And fast.”

“Well, let’s get it unbound, then,” Trystan says, and my heart tightens with another welling of gratitude to be reunited. He draws his wand and taps the skiff’s control board. The runes surrounding the skiff blink to life, beginning to rotate, as Trystan draws a shield back over us.

“Ren,” he says, hesitating for a beat as the runes whir faster, whipping blue light. “We have family here. Family that was hidden from us.”

Family? I’m speechless for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve an uncle here. And a cousin. Nothing is how we were told it was.”

The runes speed to a blur and the skiff begins to rise. “But...how can that be?”

“Our mother’s brother, Wrenfir, is alive. And Uncle Edwin has a child.”

Shock flashes through me. But then I remember how Aunt Vyvian raged about Uncle Edwin having had a forbidden relationship with an Urisk woman.

“And our parents,” Trystan says, growing even more serious as we ascend toward the dome holding back the storm, “they weren’t killed by the Kelts.”

My eyes widen. “What are you saying?”

“They were secretly fighting against the Gardnerian military. Against our own grandmother.”

“Ancient One,” I murmur. “Does that mean...”

Trystan nods and gives me a significant look as we’re enveloped by the maelstrom, its muffled roar overtaking us. “Our parents were part of the Resistance, Ren,” he says as he pilots us relentlessly forward. “And our grandmother murdered them for it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

STORMING POWER

Elloren Grey

Noilaan
Eastern Realm
Two days prior to Xishlon