Rachel dropped her head into her hands, letting her sweat-matted hair dangle into her half-finished breakfast pastry. The server came and went, asking if she was done, but she sent him away. He left reluctantly, evidently knowing that she had been left on sour terms.

  How could she have been so stupid? Matt was her only connection to home, maybe the only person she had met so far who she might call a friend.

  He was the only reason she had been keeping up the charade of finding Jason.

  Rachel finished her breakfast and stood up, testing the air for any sign of Tassel. Her mind caught on a persistent white noise in the direction of the royal keep, and finding no other Edomic triggers to point her towards her quarry, she pushed herself away from the table and brought her dishes to the front counter.

  “Yai,” Rachel said as the server smiled at her from over the counter. “Figured I’d save you the trip.”

  The server laughed. “Kindness is a lost art in this city. Lay, lay.”

  Without another word, she spun on her heel and left the little cafe, raising her gaze to the rooftops and following the white noise. It led her diagonal to the winding grid of tight cobbled streets, leading her through arches and alleyways between wider streets. Having spent most of her time since Maldor had been defeated either at the Celestine Library or in Caberton, she was still unused to the messy, tight-fit hugeness of Trensicourt. She supposed that everyone had to fit within the walls somehow, but it certainly would have frustrated her sense of direction had she not had a cue to follow.

  The white noise became brighter and more distinct as she walked, until she could almost separate the sound into individual voices. The sound wasn’t exactly familiar, but it tugged at the corners of her mind, begging her to think, to remember.

  Ice shot down Rachel’s spine, stopping her in her tracks.

  Torivors.

  Torivors.

  She set off towards them with renewed vigor, racking her brain for the scattered pieces of Lyrian’s history she had read at the Celestine Library. She knew the torivors’ origin had been disputed, and she had learned from the torivors themselves that they were Beyonders. What hadn’t been put into doubt was the fact that the torivors first appeared with Zokar.

  Which meant that, almost without doubt, that Tassel was the legendary Eldrin.

  And, worse yet, Zokar was here, preparing for war, in Trensicourt.

  Wait. Hadn’t Erica said that there were still wizards and Beyonders residing in Darvis Kur? A wizard had created the Sunken Lands, and by Rachel’s understanding, that had occurred long before the legendary duel that ended - would end - the Age of Wizards.

  Rachel would have to ask Tassel. Preferably not while he was preparing for war.

  Rachel stepped into a large square within eyesight of the royal keep. A massive, sparkling fountain fashioned of pink granitic stone dominated the space, flowing plentifully through carvings of warriors and common folk. Each character in the statue stood crushing a symbol of magic - a wizard, a staff, even a set of alchemist’s tools. The water seemed to animate the carving, as if the boots of the common folk were still pressing down, down, down on the heads of the wizards who had once ruled over them.

  The voices surrounded her now. All were below her, and none spoke to her, but she heard them as clearly as she could a face-to-face conversation. None spoke in English. She wondered whether they had learned English through the teachings of Zokar or Maldor, or if they already knew.

  I hear you, she thought into the ether.

  The voices made no indication that they had heard. Rachel approached the fountain, thought better of it, and crossed the plaza to a busy bookshop. After browsing for a few minutes, she settled on a fantasy romance book with a simple cover, paid seven drooma at the front desk, then returned to the fountain and pretended to read.

  I hear you, she tried again. When no answer came, she racked the Edomic soundscape around her, searching for anything she could latch onto, but found nothing.

  She would have called for Tassel, but if he was involved in this in any way, he surely wouldn’t want her to know. Not yet.

  Hello. The silky, not-quite-human voice penetrated her mind without warning, startling her almost badly enough to send her tumbling backwards into the fountain. She recovered quickly, latching onto the connection and holding it steady.

  Hello, Rachel replied, electing not to inquire further. She needed to be taken seriously before she entered the physical presence of the torivors.

  You are not our usual visitor, rumbled the voice.

  I am not, Rachel affirmed. Your usual visitor carries a stranger name.

  At the mention of a name, the voices closest to Rachel abruptly ceased. Suddenly, she felt the presence of far more minds, all creeping into the undefended crevices of her own.

  Your name, the voice slithered. What is your name?

  Rachel smiled. For the moment, she had won. You shall know my voice. You shall know my face, in time. You will never know my name.

  She knows, another voice hissed. She knows the name of the master.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The name, the name, the name, the other voices chanted in discordance.

  Rachel felt a drought tear through her body slowly, drying her bones until they cracked from the heat. The last time she had met with the torivors, they had spoken with care, if not outright apathy. They had shown themselves to be supremely patient.

  These torivors were hungry.

  You know better than to ask that of me, Rachel replied without wavering, flipping a page in her book.

  You hold no power over us. We could tear your mind to shreds in an instant.

  Rachel felt no satisfaction. If I were in your presence, yes. If I were asleep, yes.

  A slight pause followed before a single voice responded. You know much.

  Enough to be more of a danger to this city than any of you, Rachel thought with finality. She knew the admission of her position could put her in danger, especially if the torivors relayed the information, but she somehow doubted they would.

  She could only hope to count on the value of Zokar’s name as a bargaining chip, and she knew it would lose its value quickly.

  But, for the moment, the unsettling conversation had come to a close. She closed the mental connection, reducing the torivors’ voices to a distant babble below her, and stood.

  And froze.

  “Good book?” said a familiar voice from no more than two feet to her right.

  “Haven’t really gotten into it yet,” Rachel said icily, remaining on her feet.

  “I’ve heard good things,” came the reply, “but people think simply in Fortaim.”

  “You must be glad I gave you an excuse to come back to the city, Erica,” Rachel said carefully, turning to look at the woman as she emphasized her name.

  The stablewoman caught her gaze with a knowing glint in her eye. “I enjoyed my life in Fortaim. I only followed you to the city because I was sure you would get yourself into trouble.”

  “That I did,” Rachel grumbled, “though it wasn’t my fault.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Erica rolled her eyes and stood up, leaning down to offer Rachel her hand. “Walk with me.”

  Rachel followed, and Erica sped up to an almost nervous pace as they left the square behind. They were heading back towards the High School, though Rachel doubted that Erica had that destination in mind. If anything, she seemed like she was walking away from something rather than towards it.

  Why would Erica be afraid? It didn’t make any sense.

  Until it did.

  Rachel’s eyes widened. She almost let her steps slow, because she suddenly felt as if she were dragging her legs through molasses. She forced herself to keep walking, to rearrange her face into a neutral expression, to let the emotions pass before she was forced to speak once more.

  Erica’s pace slowed gradually as they plunged deeper into the city, taking a rather direct route from the royal keep to the artisan district that Tassel called home. Rachel didn’t recognize any of the streets - through her turbid thoughts, they all blurred together - but the atmosphere and the architecture was familiar. This district seemed slightly newer than the area surrounding the keep, with straighter, more vibrantly coloured buildings and larger windows.

  Erica led Rachel to a little park, in which she found a bench and sat down. Rachel, needing no instruction, sat beside her and opened her mouth before Erica had the chance to speak.

  “Were you a step behind us all the way from Fortaim?” Rachel asked, evading the subject about which she actually wanted to speak.

  Erica shook her head. “Only from this morning. Your antics made you hard to follow.”

  Rachel chortled humorlessly. “Glad to hear my falling-out with Matt was spectated. I don’t need you to tell me it’s my fault.”

  “I debated following him instead,” Erica admitted. “I’m worried about him.”

  Rachel sighed and leaned forward, letting her gaze fall to her knees. “Me too. I don’t know why I let it all happen. Why I have to… be like this.”

  It was only as the words left her mouth that Rachel realized the truth within them. She hadn’t been so cynical, so mean, so flighty when she was last in Lyrian. It had only really emerged within her when she returned to Earth. The isolation, the secrecy, even her talks with her parents. She still loved them, but she had no way of showing it.

  She had to lie to them. She had to build her entire Earthen existence on the basis that her entire young adulthood had been wiped from her memory.

  She had hoped that a return to Lyrian would mean a return to her former self. Instead, she had just found another catastrophic lie to tell.

  “You still haven’t told him,” Erica breathed.

  Rachel shook her head.

  “Rachel, it’s been weeks. I know that you’ve known ever since Fortaim.” Erica shifted slightly, angling herself diagonally so that she could face Rachel. “Every day you keep it in…”

  “Is another month of its consequences,” Rachel finished. “I know the saying.”

  Erica nodded. “Do it. Or I’ll do it for you.”

  Rachel shook her head vehemently. “I’ll do it. You’re the last person I’d ask to be my messenger.”

  “Says the one who spoke my name in the presence of torivors,” Erica countered.

  Rachel wasn’t even surprised that Erica knew about the torivors. That fact only served to erase what final shreds of doubt that remained about Erica’s identity.

  “But I didn’t speak your name,” Rachel murmured. “Not your real one.”

  Rachel could feel a burgeoning weight ballooning in her chest as she spoke. Though she knew what was coming, and she knew what it meant, she felt powerless to soften the blow that would come. She steeled herself, but her will would not last.

  Erica remained motionless. Expressionless. “No. You didn’t.”

  Rachel took a deep, wavering breath. Then, another.

  “I don’t know your first name,” Rachel shivered, “but calling you Mrs. Walker feels… wrong.”

  This time, Erica let a soft smile crinkle her cheeks. “Nia. My true name is Nia.”

  And, at that, Rachel broke. Tears burst from her eyes, and they were hardly halfway down her cheeks before she and Nia collided. Nia wrapped her arms around Rachel and squeezed, but it only made Rachel cry harder. She buried her face in Nia’s shoulder, shaking uncontrollably. Endlessly. Nia was not just a reminder of Jason, but a reminder of all those whom she had lost before she could even understand the devastating finality of death. Of decisions. Of mistakes.

  It was a long time before Rachel felt strong enough to speak again.

  “Darian sent you,” she whispered.

  Nia shushed her. “Another time. Not now.”

  Rachel desperately wanted to ask about Jason. How he had grown, who he had become, how Lyrian had changed - but she knew it would only lead to more pain. To know, for sure, that he had moved on and lived a full life without his best friend…

  “You know we’ve been staying with Tassel,” Rachel tried, needing to change the subject.

  Nia nodded. “I won’t follow you there tonight, but Trensicourt’s fate waits for no one. You have twenty-four hours to tell Matt the truth before I return.”

  Twenty-four hours. “I don’t even know if he’ll talk to me.”

  Nia released Rachel from her arms. “He will. You should head back to campus.”

  Rachel glanced up at the sky and saw that Nia was right - the sun was beginning to dip towards the buildings behind her. “Thanks, Nia. I’ll make it count.”

  “Twenty-four hours,” Nia called over her shoulder as Rachel raced away.

  Rachel did not reply. Nia would know that she understood.