“


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “Call on the magic,” the raspy woman said in his mind, her voice far in the distance.


    “You are our Speaker.” The man’s voice was even further away.


    “Trivius wasn’t the fool Quidvis took him for,” the raspy woman said. “He ensured the survival of the land of the dead without him. Without him, the land of the dead would have perished. It remains because you remain. You must continue to remain, even if Quidvis has other plans, which he will when he discovers what Trivius did.”


    What did Trivius do?” he thought.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “You must discover that for yourself,” a young girl said, her voice slightly clearer than the woman’s. “We know the truth now, that you are not Ruari and you never were. You have a chance he didn’t, a chance to not be consumed by your magic.”


    “A chance does not guarantee it,” the man said. “A chance means it’s possible, not that it is inevitable.”


    “Do not trust Quidvis,” the raspy woman said. “Trivius trusted him once, and this gave Quidvis the chance to betray him. Quidvis’s grip on your magic gets stronger by the moment. Soon, we will not be able to reach you.”


    Why did you help me seal Trivius back into the Bone Garden after he was in Arwel?”


    “Because we knew you would one day properly bring Trivius back,” the raspy woman said. “His full return was much preferred to his spirit being within a host. When we helped you seal him away, when your brother helped, Trivius saw you. He saw you were his Speaker, which gave him hope.”


    “Do not trust Quidvis,” the raspy woman said, her voice so quiet he wasn’t sure he’d heard it.


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “


    “