CHAPTER FORTY-TWO #2
“You like to pace when you’re working through a problem,” she noted. “I thought a walk might aid your thoughts as I explain some things to you.”
At Deckard’s beckon, Ilain continued, “Did you know I went to Doorstunds Reach when I was only ten?”
“I did not. That’s when you began your training?”
“Yes. It is the youngest age that magic presents itself, and in myself, it was rather strong. I nearly killed the Mage who administered my test because of the intensity of the flame I produced.”
Deckard lifted his chin in surprise and understanding. “Your power was uncontrollable once too?”
“It was,” she confirmed, the remaining shafts of sunlight causing her hair to shimmer. “And it took six years for me to master it.”
Drawing back, Deckard gathered her point. He sighed and said, “We don’t have six years.”
“Don’t we?”
His brow pinched. “I need to control my power now. I can’t risk failing our troop again.”
Ilain stopped suddenly, her verdant gaze meeting his. “Jonn, do you feel everything comes down to you?”
The words were too familiar to the question Evylin asked. “Do you always feel this way? That everything comes down to your perfection, to your actions.”
“Yes,” Deckard confessed. “I know it’s foolish. And selfish. Terraeus does not revolve around me. Yet . . .”
“Every failure is a reminder of your insignificance?”
He stared at her, baffled at her insight.
Ilain’s cunning smirk glinted in her gaze.
“As the most powerful Mage in two centuries, I know something about the weight of responsibility.
For my whole life, my family has worked for the Alliance.
They groomed Vayden, Auden, and me to become devotees to the cause. And we followed the path happily.
“The Alliance is good,” she insisted. “They are just. They are noble. But when the height of my powers was discovered as a teen, I became something more than a mere foot soldier for their cause. I became a symbol of hope. My power makes me uniquely qualified to overthrow Blount and Ephren and to take up a place as the Alliance’s greatest ruler.
My time in the Order of the Flame made me into a goddess to the Waulden people.
When the time comes, they will listen to me above any other because I was named as Pyra’s Heiress. ”
Deckard frowned, unable to fully comprehend the title. “And what does that mean exactly?”
“In Wauld,” she explained, “the Mages of Auld created the religion known as the Faith of Eight to make their right to rule absolute. They taught that the Mages are incarnations of the resources themselves, turning us into deities. However, most Mages are seen as demigods—reflections of the first gods. However, the eight rulers of Auld were purported to be reincarnations of the prime deities themselves. Now, every few centuries, there is one Mage believed to inherit the true power of the gods. Because of my strength, they believed me to be the heir of Pyra’s power. ”
“Meaning . . . They really thought you were a god?” Deckard’s mouth dropped open. The very idea was blasphemy. But he supposed that was the point. Turn yourself into a god, and who could deny you?
“Goddess,” she corrected dryly. “And yes, the Waulden people think I’m Pyra reincarnated.”
Deckard shook his head, unable to fathom the illogical heresy. “But Blount put out a writ on you. Surely, they wouldn’t support a monarch over their goddess.”
Ilain gave him an amused look. “The Faith of Eight does not hold the same weight as Allorianism. Gods are born through the generations. They are destructible. They are fallible. Allore is solitarily, infinitely divine, and righteous. Their faith is not like ours.”
She resumed walking and added, “Besides, some think Blount is Obscura’s Heir, though he hasn’t been given the title officially. It’s laughable, anyway. He isn’t nearly as powerful as I am.”
Following at her side, he asked, “Do you truly believe in the inheritance of their powers?”
“Hm? Oh, no. The paganism of the Eight didn’t arise until after the ancient Mages locked away the Relics. Although, I do believe Allore himself grants some of us more vast wells of power than others to help point us to the natural leaders.”
“And your great power qualifies you to lead?”
“It does,” she said, somehow without a hint of pretension.
Deckard clasped his hands behind his back, the thought settling uneasily in his stomach. “You aren’t bothered by that responsibility?” he asked.
Ilain was quiet for a moment, her gaze on the forest floor.
She sidestepped a soft blue elderlily, lifting her skirt so as not to disturb the flower.
“Sometimes I am,” she said softly. “It’s a burden to carry—knowing your actions will determine the fate of the world.
But it’s also an honor. And I’m grateful that Allore considered me trustworthy enough to bear it. ”
Deckard’s throat grew tight. “Is this your way of telling me that I’m destined to rule?” he asked, fighting the bitterness that welled within him.
Ilain’s smile was unaffected as she looked up at him. “No, Jonn,” she said with earnestness. “This is my way of telling you that you need to stop being afraid of yourself.”
He watched her warily. The setting sun’s rays filtered through the treetops to cast a golden glow on her pale skin as they walked. “You carry a burden, yes,” she continued. “But it is also an honor. Rather than fighting your magic, work with it. Stop trying to control it and start relating to it.”
Deckard wet his bottom lip, nervous. “When I focus, it consumes me.”
“Does Evylin consume you?”
Deckard’s first instinct was to say yes, but then he reconsidered. “No. I love her; I put her first, but . . . She isn’t my every waking thought.”
Ilain nodded encouragingly. “So should you treat magic. Love it, cherish it, but let it be free. Let it live in the world around you unimpeded by your control. Let it out. Space already exists without you. Stop trying to bend it to your will and start getting to know it as it is rather than as you want it to be.”
The sentiment was reasonable, but Deckard couldn’t fathom the means to accomplish such a feat. “I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted.