Wendell’s shoulders hunched and he twisted his cap in his hands. “Forgive me for raising my voice, Lady Samira.”
“If you think this is because of you, then you think too highly of yourself,” she rasped. The farmer flushed beneath his beard.
“I will see to her,” Dyna assured him. He ambled out as she sat in a chair beside Lady Samira. Her grandmother had yet to return so it was up to her to proceed.
Dyna took the councilwoman’s knotted hand and pressed two fingers to her wrist. It was cold and frail. Almost weightless. Her pulse was too faint.
“Is this difficult for you?” Lady Samira asked, straining to speak. “Treating the woman who led your father to his death?”
His smiling face filled Dyna’s mind again. She steeled herself and focused on her task at hand. The question didn’t warrant an answer. She couldn’t trust what would come out of her mouth if she did.
“I … didn’t believe him. I truly thought the Shadow would not come. After... many times I came to your door but I couldn’t bring myself to knock.”
Even if the councilwoman had knocked, Dyna may not have opened the door. She had not been in a place to listen.
Her hands glowed green as she brandished them above Lady Samira’s body in a slow, sweeping motion from her head to her feet. Dyna closed her eyes and let herself drift into the Essentia Dimensio—a plane reached only from within.
Glimmering bulbs of light in all colors spanned a world of darkness, stretching into oblivion. They represented the Essence of every living being. Surrounding her were luminous bulbs from the council members nearby and those of the villagers in the distance. But Lady Samira’s golden light dimmed in hazy sputters.
“From that night, I questioned each decision I’ve made…” Lady Samira gasped for a breath between each group of words. “Whether I could judge correctly … whether I have made the correct decision to keep them here.”
Dyna reached out with her green Essence and brushed it against the councilwoman’s. The gold Essence briefly pulsed bright and an outline of Lady Samira’s body appeared, splintering into thousands of trails. The Essence Channels. Tunnels of translucent light that ran from the crown of her head to the root of her body. They should have been solid, pumping steadying streams of magic as blood does through veins, but her Essence Channels were breaking down, some completely gone. A small dot of light remained at her heart, and it was fading.
“Am I wrong now, Dynalya? Tell me … will I kill them too? I do not know anymore …”
Dyna wished Lady Samira would stop talking so she could concentrate. Her hands shook as she tried to revitalize the councilwoman’s Essence with her own. No matter how much she gave, the channels didn’t reconstruct themselves.
“I am dying.”
Dyna opened her eyes.
Lady Samira nodded at whatever she saw on her face. Dyna couldn’t find the right words to reply. As much pain as the woman had caused her, she didn’t want this.
“I’m sorry.”
“Your sympathy is wasted on me. I had sensed my time to walk through The Seven Gates was nearing … I only accelerated the inevitable by using my last remaining Essence to stop them from leaving … You have nothing to be sorry for. It is I who must speak those words.”
Lady Samira had never been so docile. Perhaps death had left her rueful, or perhaps it was guilt, but this was not the harsh woman who had addressed the village.
Dyna fought to stay focused. The use of Essence had drained her energy, arms limp at her sides. She had come to speak to the council. Now may not be the appropriate time, but she may never have another opportunity to be heard. “Lady Samira, I must seek your audience.”
The old woman studied her. “Speak. Quickly now … I have little time left.”
“My father told you the truth when he said the Shadow would come. I tell you the truth now—I have found a way to defeat it.”
Lady Samira’s unfocused eyes hardened with attention. “But?”
Dyna tried not to cringe. “But it requires that I leave North Star.”
Immediate refusal arose on the councilwoman’s scowl before she answered. “Dynalya, you are one of the few remaining in our village who can wield Essence.”
“My Essence is minimal—”
“It is useful …You are a healer. You have power … You cannot risk venturing outside the village.”
“If we could form another expedition, I would not be alone.”
“No … If you leave, you will attract an Enforcer and be taken to Magos.”
“I know the dangers, but I must go,” Dyna insisted. “I don’t fear the Archmage.”
“You must always fear him. The mages will stop at nothing to strip you of all your Essence until you die … Do you understand?” Lady Samira reached out for her. “Forgive me for not saving your father, but I—”
Dyna pulled away.
Lady Samira let her hand fall. “You must stay … After my passing, there will be an empty seat on the council to fill.”
She stared at the councilwoman, not sure if she understood the implication correctly.
“Pardon, Lady Samira,” Lorian said from the door, his expression barely containing his outrage. “You cannot possibly be suggesting she take it. She is too young—”
“As I recall … you were only a few years older than her when you joined the council,” Lady Samira hissed, her weakening voice regaining its edge. “If not for her father’s death, you would not have his seat now.”
Lorian scowled. The voices of the other council members murmured in the hall.
“I don’t want a seat on the council,” Dyna said. “It gave my father no sway in convincing you of the dangers to come. None of the plans you have sorted will work. But I know how to end the Shadow’s curse.”
Quiet shock filled the room.
Lorian glared at her through narrow slits. “Explain.”
“What I am suggesting is dangerous,” she admitted. “But not impossible.”
They hung on her every word, waiting for her to continue.
“There are other sources of powerful magic.”
Lorian crossed his arms. “And where is this powerful magic you claim?”
Dyna swallowed the lump in her throat. “The island.”
The councilmen gaped at her before bursting into mocking laughter.
She stood. “You don’t understand. I can save the village!”
They dismissed her as she predicted and turned away to discuss among themselves, shooting her contemptuous looks. They didn’t believe her. How could they when they thought of that place as only a story?
Her hope was sand slipping through her fingers.
“I did not listen to your father when he warned me …” Lady Samira muttered, her eyes drooping heavily. “It was to my greatest regret what befell your family … An apology will never be enough, but you have my blessings. And with it, may your father forgive me. Councilor Pavin?”
“Yes?” The heavy-set councilman readily came forward.
“Bring me paper and ink … I have chosen my successor.”
All the council members stood straight and confident, righting the front of their robes.