We are not the same! You have killed so many! You blighted your own men!

There must be sacrifices. Already we have given up too much. What is the difference if men fall to the blight or if they fall to an uncontrollable daeva? You have sacrificed your own people too.

That’s not true! I refused to think about Telemaine, dead at his son’s hand, a murder I had indirectly carried out. I refused to think about poor Daisy. I refused to think about Fox, and Inessa, and Polaire.

We are the same, he murmured. We were always the same. I knew as much the first time we met.

Who are you?

One of us shall find the First Harvest, Tea. It will not matter who takes the prize, for the consequences will be the same. Once you hold a god’s soul in your hands, you will not resist. You could make a compassionate ruler and shape the world to your liking. One day, you shall understand, and you shall thank me. In the meantime, consider the Drychta a gift, a pledge that we work toward the same objectives.

No! I took a step toward him, but he gestured with his hand and I froze, unable to move.

You have not known true power, Tea. The cloaked figure approached, and I felt fingers against my cheek. He leaned in close, his lips against my ear. I tried to draw back from the unwanted intimacy, but my body was immobile. The only way for you to truly understand me, he whispered, is for you to have a taste.

His fingers marked a symbol on my temple, and power surged into me, more than I had ever taken in at one time. I gasped as I fell, my body my own once more, but still helpless as I clawed at my head and the surges of energy filling my vision.

I was strength! Never had I felt more powerful, even when linked to the azi. I was ice and lightning and fire! I could feel the world at my fingertips! I could raise armies from the dead! I could raise them all—Polaire, Daisy, everyone! I could shape life into my own making, my own pleasure. I could become a god—

Druj and the burning city vanished, and I was back in the cave, stumbling. Kalen’s hand was firm and secure against mine. “What did he do?” he asked tightly, his voice promising violence.

“He wants me to find the First Harvest,” I whispered through parched lips. My voice rose in anger. “He wants to…to make an alliance.” What did you do to me, Faceless?

All this power. Do you not hunger for it?

I did. I wanted more of it, more of the Dark thrumming through me, although I knew it would be more than I could take, that the darkrot would find me quicker. And even with that knowledge, I still wanted more.