“He was a monster,” Han countered, shying a rock into the creek. “She destroyed him.” He’d seen the frieze in the temple at Fellsmarch. It was called The Triumph of Hanalea and consisted of a series of scenes: Hanalea in chains, defying the Demon King. Hanalea, beautiful and terrible, holding the world together with green magic as the Demon King tried to shatter it. Hanalea standing over the Demon King’s lifeless body, a sword in her hand.

If it’s carved in stone, it has to be true, Han thought.

“They killed him,” Lucius said. “And that released a destructive power like the world has never known, before or since.” He sighed, shaking his head, as if it hadn’t been the Demon King’s fault at all.

“Afterward, the wizards meant to marry Hanalea off to Kinley Bayar.” The old man sat up straighter, his eyes oddly clear and focused. His usually quavery voice rang out like a temple orator’s, and his highland accent fell away. “But they had their hands full. The world was breaking, crumbling into chaos. Earthquakes shook their castles down. Flames erupted from the ground. The oceans boiled away and forests turned to ash. Night fell and stayed for months, lit only by the fires that burned day and night. The air was too thick to breathe. Nothing they conjured would stop it. Finally they had to turn to the clans for help.”

Disappointment flamed within Han. How had they strayed so far afield from his original question about wizardry? He’d asked a serious question, and been repaid with this dreamer’s tale. He’d wasted half the morning on the creek bank, the unwilling victim of an old man’s fantasies. Now Mam would skin him alive for being so late.

“Thanks for the story and all,” Han said, “but I’ve got to go. He scrambled to his feet and slid his backpack over one shoulder. “I’ll pick up the bottles at the dog run.”

“Sit, boy!” Lucius commanded. “You got this story started, now you got to hear me out.”

Fuming, Han settled back on the creek bank. He’d never signed on for a monologue.

When Lucius was satisfied he’d held his audience, he continued. “The clans recognized the lineage of queens, so Hanalea acted as go-between. Think of what that must’ve been like. Negotiating with the clans on behalf of your sweetheart’s murderers.” Lucius smiled sadly. “But Hanalea had grown up. She was strong and smart as well as beautiful. She reclaimed the power of the Gray Wolf line. What grew out of those talks was the Nǽming.”