Darkness.
The vision opened a third time and Thealos saw himself kneeling in a pool of light in the middle of the rotunda. He watched his actions, saw the look of determination on his own face. Reaching into the Otsquare embedded in the floor, he withdrew a silver amulet and chain with a blue sapphire. The jewel was the size of an egg, garnished with Silvan runes. In his mind, he watched as the blue lights in the rotunda winked out, leaving only himself and the glowing Silverkin Crystal. He was alone, but only for a moment. Secrist came into the rotunda, his eyes mad and hateful. Thealos watched himself scramble backwards before the magic surged to life on its own, flaring brilliantly in the darkness. It ripped the motes of Deathbane from the dagger and wrapped the Kiran Thall in folds of blue fire. The fire spread throughout the tunnels, stealing Forbidden magic from every nook and corner. The fire burned fast and quick, slamming into the aged Sorian with its full intensity, dropping the man to his knees. Ballinaire staggered and choked, appearing to age years in moments. Every shard of darkness and filth was licked up by the flames before rushing back. Thealos could see it all.
The fire rushed back, gathering like a storm and capturing the magic within the blue sapphire. No, there was something else too. Thealos watched the Forbidden magic course through his body and into the Crystal. Yes, the Firekin was swallowed by the Crystal’s power, but it passed through him first! The evil went through his body like water, sickening him. And he watched as he collapsed in a heap on the floor, helpless as the Crystal winked out. He understood. He finally understood! The magic of the Silverkin required a terrible price. Thealos winced as the Kiran Thall lunged forward and kicked him in the ribs. He flinched as he watched Secrist pummel him again, ripping the Silvan magic from his hand. He understood it too clearly. The Crystal searched and trapped Forbidden magic. But whoever wielded it could feel the Firekin as it was captured. The artifact did not stop men of flesh and blood. It would not stop the Bandit Army. Secrist held the magic triumphantly in his hand, staring at its weight and power. The madness was gone. Looking down at the crumpled Shae, Secrist dropped low and slit his throat.
The vision started to fade, snapping him back to the present. In the distance, he heard the Sorian woman’s voice welcome Secrist back and demand he give the Silverkin to her.
And Thealos knew that he would.
*
No! Thealos blinked awake. He lay on his back on the floor of the rotunda, soaked with sweat. The light in the center of the octagonal room was gone, but the blue stones from the eight walls shone, leaving no shadows on the floor. Thealos’ hand was near the Otsquare etched at the bottom. Waiting for him.
—Son of Quicksilver—
The magic beckoned to him, insistent, like Shae barters whispering through the rock to wake him to his needs and offer their wares. It felt the presence of Forbidden magic near, it hungered to lash out at it with its power. Thealos recoiled, scrambling to get away from the center of the chamber.
—Claim me—
Thealos panted heavily. The images of the light were so vivid, he felt he had lived them. He saw himself dead on the floor, over and over again. It wasn’t the fear of dying that filled his stomach with snakes. If he knew that both Sorian would be harmed by the Silverkin, that the war would not continue – he would gladly give his life. He had seen what happened in Sol-don-Orai. He couldn’t let that happen to his people. His mind felt like it would burst like a melon. But he also knew that the Everoot still being harvested out in the moors would not be banished by the Silverkin. The Bandits would still be able to turn it into Deathbane. And there would be nothing left to stop them if the Silverkin belonged to the Sorian.
—I have waited for you. You are the rightful heir. Claim me!—
Over and over, Thealos saw it in his mind. The Sorian would get the Silverkin. The war would start across the land and no one in Avisahn would know what had happened. The futility of it all sickened him. It could not be happening like this. He clenched his fists and swore. No! He was too close to back away now. If he could take the Silverkin and run away, if he could...
But would that really change what would happen? The warding failed as soon as the Silverkin was taken. The Otsquare in the hall would no longer shelter him. And when Secrist attacked, the Silverkin would surge to life of its own will. Thealos doubted that he would be able to control it. It was all so clear to him. So brutally clear. He knew now why Jaerod had sought him out. The Sleepwalker had known that Thealos could get the Silverkin but would not be able to protect it. Thealos bowed his head in despair. There was no one left to protect him. Not Sturnin, not Flent. Not even Allavin Devers.