Page 55 of Heir

It was written in Ankanese and she’d read through it once already. The stories within appeared simple: “The Demon at the Wedding,” “The Storm and the Storyteller,” “The Wise Man and His Dutiful Daughter,” “The Dragon of Wit and Wile.” The types of tales you told children to ensure they didn’t wander alone into a dark forest.

Certain words snagged in her head:Demon. Dusk. Wind. North. Song.

Tiral wouldn’t have been so attached to it if it didn’t mean something. There was a message in these words, and Aiz was determined to find it.

She finished one of the stories she’d enjoyed, about a monster who sneaks into a wedding. The setting alone beguiled her—the descriptions of lamps and food, of the bride’s wedding dress embroidered to reflect the vivid purples and blues of the desert sky.

Aiz turned the page to see a new title:

The Vessel of the Fount

Aiz stared in astonishment. She’d read the book thrice now. She’d never seen this story. There, in the first paragraph, was Div’s name.

Gather, gather and listen well, for Mother Div’s voice must not be forgotten. Hear her in the wind which stirs in your blood. Forget her not, for she has not forgotten you.

No, this story was certainly not here before, else Aiz would already have it memorized. Almost without realizing it, she’d devoured half the story. Despite its unusual start, it otherwise mirrored the First Sacred Tale almost to the letter. The calamity across the sea. Div’s desperate search for a homeland. The stars leading her to the valley below the Spires, where she settled her people.

But the First Sacred Tale ended at the cloister, with Div caring for animals and orphans and vowing that one day, the Kegari would return to their homeland. In this book, the story went on.

In time, Div felt the call of the wind again. She left Kegar and the burden of rule to her three children, Oona, Ghaz, and Hiwa. Div walked weaponless into the wind and let it carry her aloft to lands unknown, far beyond the Spires of Kegar.

She formed alliances with the Seers of Ankana and the Kins of Jaduna, the Ghost Men of Karkaus, and the Sun Lords of Firan. But the wind pulled at her still, until one day she met betrayal and imprisonment in the lee of a giant’s fangs. Div wept, for no creature of fur nor feather dared to tread near her prison. No rain penetrated its shriveled hollow, no wind blew in to freshen the stale air.

There, in a place of unending death, Mother Div’s spirit abides, trapped as she awaits one of the Blood to set her free. Only then can she return in the body of the Tel Ilessi, the Holy Vessel. And the Tel Ilessi shall deliver her people back to the homeland from whence they fled, so long ago.

The book fell from Aiz’s hands, landing with a leaden thump on the deck. She closed her eyes, not quite believing what she’d read.

The clerics never spoke of Div’s death. Only of her passing rulership to the first three Triarchs—her children. Aiz heard the story of Div leaving Kegar once.More rumor than fact, Sister Noa had said.Div was devoted to her people.

But that didn’t mean that this story was false. It had the rhythm of a Sacred Tale.

Aizzzzz.

The voice—Div’s voice. Aiz knew it instantly, and she spun, desperate to see the apparition of the Holy Cleric. To ask her if the story was true.

But the voice was different than when she heard it in the prison. More distant.

Help me, daughter. Find me. Release me and I will give you power beyond what you could dream. Power to do anything. Power to save your people.

“Power,” Aiz whispered. “Windsmithing?”

Yes. You have the skill. You need only to control it. Windsmithing is the beginning. I can give you more than that. Whatever power you have, I will multiply it one hundredfold.

“Can you—can you help me destroy Tiral?”

As if he never existed. But first you must free me. The road will be hard, Aiz. There will be great sacrifice.

“What—kind of sacrifice?”

You may have to trade the few for the many. You may wish to turn back. But if you hold to the course I set before you, the poor and wretched of Kegar will never suffer again.

“Yes,” Aiz said, and she could see it. See Noa and Olnas and Hani free. The cloister thriving, the orphans fed. And she, Aiz, would be the reason. “Tell me what to do, Mother Div.”

Read the story. Find me. We will be unstoppable, child.

Mother Div’s voice faded and Aiz reread the passage.A place of unending death.Aiz had not heard of such a place, but then, she’d never left Kegar. Dolbra might know, or the ship’s captain, who was widely traveled.

Something occurred to her then. Dolbra’s vision.You grasped an ancient wind in your hand and swallowed it.Aiz saw Hani in the dark of the Tohr asking why there were Nine Sacred Tales.Mother Div whispered the Ninth Sacred Tale to the wind in a faraway land. When the wind circles the earth and returns to Kegar, we will finally hear the tale. Its telling will herald the Return to our homeland.

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