Impossible to accept, just as it’s impossible to accept the scattering of other Mages here, the majority of the Wyvernguard wondering if High Commander Vang Troi’s formidable powers of reason have come unstrung.

My thoughts fly back to before I met Trystan, when I spearheaded a petition to keep him out. Thousands of soldiers and apprentices signed it. And when Vang Troi refused to budge, I organized a protest that both I and my circle of friends were harshly disciplined for. Even though we had the full support of the majority of the Noi Conclave and my people’s Zhilon’ile Conclave, including my entire family, as well as Commander Ung Li.

But here Trystan Gardner is, and increasingly, it cannot be denied...

He’s on our side.

I can smell it on him—his fearless desire to fight with the East. And his honesty surrounding all of it.

His cursed honesty.

I’ve struggled to scent a lie on him, just a hint of one. Sought to detect that slight sheen of sweat that almost always accompanies untruths, to hear it in the near imperceptible increase in heartbeat. But...nothing.

My uneasy awareness has persisted throughout the past weeks as I trailed him everywhere. To weapons training, wand sparring, rune-ship navigation, meals. Never once have I sensed a lie on him, even though I searched with an intensity bordering on obsession. To justify the way he’s being treated here.

The way I’m treating him.

Unease twists my gut, my jaw ticking with tension as I watch Trystan’s green eyes go hard, watch him murmuring Roach spells to fill his wand with lethal Mage power. The same power that killed so many Noi’khin.

My family is right, I silently rage. None of the Crows should be here. Not a one.

Yes, some of the completely justifiable protests have devolved into abuse, but how could High Commander Vang Troi honestly believe Trystan could ever assimilate here, or anywhere in the East?

Still, my unease is like a ceaseless, growing tide.

Every day I’ve watched Trystan Gardner descend into a protective silence, and it’s begun to prick at my conscience. To add to the confusion, he’s increasingly shadowed by the equally silent Death Fae, who seem hells-bent on drawing him into their outcast circle.

“Vu Trin, ready your magic,” Commander Ung Li calls from the sidelines, her spiked black hair gleaming in the sun, arms crossed in front of her.

Trystan focuses on the soldiers facing him, his eyes narrowing as he raises his wand a fraction higher. An invisible charge sizzles to life around him and spills into my power. Stinging threads of lightning flare over my skin.

“Fire!” Ung Li orders.

Trystan lashes his wand forward.

A blast of storming water shot through with vivid blue lightning bursts from his wand, and the incredible aura of oceanic energy coursing from it hits me like a typhoon.