by Jason Denzel
“I accept,” Shevia said, and this time her name, and immense accumulated power, fell away, leaving her humble, alone, and free.
The woman who had been Shevia kissed the center of Pomella’s forehead. “Thank you. But go. Sim needs you. We all do.”
* * *
Shevia—no, Lorraina’s—lips searing through the skin of Pomella’s forehead, filling her with the unfathomable power of a Saint. When the other woman pulled away, Pomella had to steady herself. She saw the woman smile, and warn her about Sim.
Sim.
Pomella looked at the central tower. The Tower of Eternal Starlight stood in the same place but rose several times higher than Kelt Apar’s stone structure. As she gazed upward she turned her attention to the moon hanging in the sky. She knew she only had moments. As quickly as it had come, Crow Tallin waned in its final moments. Already the Tower of Eternal Starlight had began to fade.
“Ena!” she called, and less than a heartbeat later the hummingbird was carrying her toward the tower’s broken summit. She hovered beside the window and looked in.
Brigid’s decapitated body lay in the center of the upper chamber. It phased out of existence, briefly revealing empty sky, but cycled back into existence, if less substantially than moments before.
Beside Brigid lay another body.
“Sim!” Pomella cried. “Wake up, Sim!”
The tower faded further as Crow Tallin took its final breaths. “Sim!”
He stirred and raised his face toward her.
“Come here, Sim!” Pomella called. “Come to me. Please!”
He grunted and pushed himself to his feet.
“Hurry!”
He ran and leaped for the window, but it was too late. The Tower of Eternal Starlight vanished from the human realm as Crow Tallin ended. His fingers brushed hers. She clawed them, holding on as tightly as she could, praying for every once of strength and time.
As their fingers touched, a flood of memories flashed into Pomella. Like Shevia’s life, Sim’s now became a part of her. She saw his childhood in Oakspring, his time with the Black Claws, his voyage to the Continent, his journeys with Rochella, the face of his lover Swiko, and his loneliness in the wilderness.
Above all, she inherited his memories of her.
His eyes met hers amid the storm of memories. “It was you who called me,” he said.
“No! Sim!” she cried. “Come back! Come back to me!”
He opened his mouth to speak, and was gone.
Treorel emerged from behind the moon, and Pomella plummeted from the tower, alone.
* * *
At the moment her fingers parted from Sim’s, the blended human and fay worlds tore themselves away from her, and the shockwave of that transition hurled Pomella’s mind into itself.
She had come to the Crossroads, the normally thin place where the worlds converged. This time, she held the inherited might of Lagnaraste, Saint Brigid, and Shevia. As Pomella’s body fell through the air beside Kelt Apar’s central tower, her awareness stood motionless in a trembling, endless void surrounded by stars. The fear of the fall left her. The wretched sadness of losing Sim fell away. Nothing but peace surrounded her.
The stars surrounding her sang with a chorus of voices unequaled by anything she’d heard before. If she had eyes, she would have cried with blissful joy. They serenaded the song of her life, of every past that could have been hers, and of every possible future. She shifted within that endless void, and found that she could move the stars, and the Myst itself that was her destiny. Here, she was more free than ever before. Here, there were no limits.
Several shimmering points of light within the void pulsed in familiar ways. She recognized them as people. Her grandmhathir and her parents, distant and dim. Her brother, cold and alone. Sim’s star shone bright and warm, but always behind her, and just out of sight. Lal, clear and joyful. And there, bound to her with a beam of light she only now saw, was a vibrant star that burned as only Shevia—now Lorraina—could.
Freedom and power, mixed in harmony.
Hovering in the Crossroads, with the veil all but torn away, and the Myst surging around her, Pomella found serenity. She let go of all her desires, her hopes, her expectations, and just let herself reside in that peace.
In that moment, when Pomella released the last of her limits, and let herself travel with the light of the stars surrounding her, going beyond the powers she possessed, she at last found herself in the Deep.
The Crossroads themselves collapsed, leaving the Myst, and the whole universe, to blossom within her. A thousand thousand worlds, with different skies numbered beyond counting, dawned in her heart as if awakening under the sunlight of her gaze.
She was the Myst, in its purest, most profound form. There was no longer a Pomella. No longer one world or two or a thousand. No thought. No emotion. Only the Myst existed just as Lal had said.
The formless emptiness around her breathed, alive and conscious. The pattern of life revealed itself to Pomella. Here in the Deep, harmony existed in all times and places. She saw order to the chaos reigning across Moth and the rest of the world. Rather than seeing division among castes, and between the worlds themselves, she saw the opportunity to unite. That same harmony could exist between Fayün and the human world, just as it could unite the separate aspects of her own life as a Mystic and a secular person living in society. Visions of the united world that Lal had spoken of drifted through her consciousness. It had been broken long ago, but now sought Reunion.
In that infinite moment, Pomella knew with perfect clarity what she had to do. The time had come to unite her worlds.
She moved in harmony with the Deep, allowing herself to submit to its will, and shifted the very fabric of time and space. With a thought, the foundations of the world moved at her urging. The veil dissolved, and burned away into the infinite void. Fayün and the human world synchronized, then fused together.
She breathed once more, in perfect unision with the Myst, and knew her task had been done properly.
Pomella’s mind returned from the Deep, just as her body crashed to the ground. The first and last thing she saw was Treorel hanging in the silver-black sky above, sitting apart from the moon. The tide of Myst pulled away from the land, and from Pomella, leaving her to remember the strange experience like a dream, all but forgotten.
* * *
Vivianna’s face blurred into existence. “Oh, sweet ancestors, you’re alive,” she said. “Are you all right?”
Pomella’s body ached like a pummeled rice sack. She was still in Kelt Apar, with her back against the stone tower. Fires burned all around her, although early-morning sunlight had begun to outshine them. Above her, fay creatures glided through the air. She managed to sit up and catch her breath.
“Wh-what happened?” Pomella asked, still groggy.
“I don’t know,” Vivianna said, but there was wonder in her voice. “Look at the sky.”
Blinking against the smoke, Pomella looked upward and beheld a new land. Fayün and the human world had merged—forever, it seemed. The fay crossing the dawn sky still glowed with silvery light, but they had weight and substance now. Motes of drifting light—silver and gold mixed together—filled the air like falling snowflakes. Nearby, a cluster of axthos and luck’ns looked around in disbelief beside commoners, nobles, and Mystics.
Pomella tried to find her feet, but wobbled and nearly fell, until a strong arm caught her. She glanced up and saw Tibron.
“I have you,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m—” She couldn’t find the words. Through Shevia’s memories she suddenly knew him better. His presence comforted her in a way she couldn’t yet explain.
With a sudden pang of fear, Pomella realized the Tower of Eternal Starlight was entirely gone, and Sim with it. Only the broken remains of Kelt Apar’s central tower remained.
“Where’s Shevia?” Pomella finished.
Vivianna’s eyes widened. “I don’t know. We sh
ould find her.”
“No,” Pomella said. “Let her go. She’s free now.”
Vivianna watched as a flock of fay birds circled the sky above them. One of them sounded a call, and to Pomella, it seemed like a mourning cry.
“Crow Tallin is over,” Tibron said. “When will the fay vanish?”
Pomella took a slow breath. “They won’t ever,” she said.
Vivianna stared wide-eyed at Pomella. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly.
A dragon is one with the land, Lal had said. Pomella thought of her fall from the tower, of how, for mere seconds, she’d entered the Deep.
“The world is changed forever, Vivianna,” Pomella said. “Let us hope we are ready to face it.”
At her feet, a flower, golden and silver at once, had already pushed itself up from a pile of ash.
It was a lily.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was written during a time of great turmoil in my life. I am grateful and indebted to the many people who supported me throughout its crafting. To the amazing team at Tor, among them my editor, Melissa Frain, as well as Tom Doherty, Devi Pillai, Irene Gallo, Robert Davis, Patty Garcia, Zohra Ashpari, and Alexis Saarela. Thank you for your patience and willingness to let this book come alive in the time it was meant to. Thank you also to Eddie Schneider, my agent, for encouraging me and providing feedback on the earliest draft.
The members of my writing group once again proved indispensable. They are: Andrew Wilson, Laura Harvey, Andrea Stewart, George Hahn, Kris McCandless, DJ Stipe, Ryan Coe, Caroline Patti, and Nicole Vanderveer. Other early readers who provided feedback on this book include Leslie Annis, Brooke Coe, Diana Trent, Chris Lehotsky, Richard Fife, Jennifer Johnson, Ravi Persaud, Megan Kurteff-Schatz, Georgene Jansen, Sarramy Anderson, Robin Allen, Amy Romanczuk, Valerie Lauer, Sae Sae Norris, Thom DeSimone, Elizabeth Beattie, Meesha Lenee, Lisa Burris, Tina Pierce, John Monsour, Stacey Holditch, Laura-Gene Ryke, Courtney Lynn Leiphart, and the ever-reliable Gary Singer.
A special thanks goes out to Nicole Stephenson for her numerous read throughs, frequent brainstorming sessions, and overall love, support, and encouragement when I needed it most.
Finally, I wish to thank my family, especially my mother, brothers, and my sons, Aidan and Andrew. You were what kept me together when my worlds fell apart.
Jason Denzel
January 2018
BOOKS BY JASON DENZEL
Mystic
Mystic Dragon
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JASON DENZEL is the founder of Dragonmount, the leading online community for Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time saga and the web’s top destination for franchise-related news, features, and discussion. Dragonmount has been featured in USA Today, Wired, the Los Angeles Times and on CNN and ABC. Denzel lives in Northern California with his two young boys, and owns a lot of swords.
Visit him online at www.jasondenzel.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Map
Epigraph
One: The Fortress of Sea and Sky
Two: The Woodsmith
Three: The Rolling Forge
Four: The Thornwood
Five: Lagnaraste
Six: The Color of Blood and Fire
Seven: The High Mystics
Eight: The Oracle
Nine: Visions of Pain
Ten: The Eyestrom
Eleven: The Uppermost Chamber
Twelve: Finding Bith Yab
Thirteen: Before the Third New Moon
Fourteen: A Moth in Glass
Fifteen: The Outcast
Sixteen: Sitting Mother
Seventeen: The Old World
Eighteen: The Velten
Nineteen: A Path of Silver Light
Twenty: The Man with No Future
Twenty-One: Reborn in Flame
Twenty-Two: A Thousand Burning Suns
Twenty-Three: Saint Brigid’s Tears
Twenty-Four: The Tower of Eternal Starlight
Twenty-Five: Master of Fire
Twenty-Six: The Fall of the Crossroads
Acknowledgments
Books by Jason Denzel
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
MYSTIC DRAGON
Copyright © 2018 by Jason Denzel
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Larry Rostant
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-8199-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-8569-1 (ebook)
eISBN 9781466885691
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First Edition: July 2018