Page 55 of Broken Lands

“You mean when I almost killed Lincoln and filled a field with manicured wildflowers?”

She scoffs. “So dramatic, dear. He was far from dying. Minor head wound at most. And you healed him right away. No harm done. The flowers were a pleasant touch.” She winked at me, her foot still tapping. “Now, try to connect.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to do as she instructed. How was I supposed to open a door in my mind? A few long, silent seconds passed before I gave up again.

Blowing out a breath, I opened my eyes. “I don’t know how to do this. It might help if I know why it’s so important,” I said, raising an eyebrow at her in question. She hadn’t explained herself at all, too eager to dive right in.

“Oh, of course, I’ve gotten ahead of myself.” She moved off her desk, plopping down in the seat beside me. “I found your bonding with that particular weapon extremely interesting, so I’ve been doing some research. Combined with how little we know of your own history; it seemed like something worth noting and looking into further. There isn’t a lot of information on the sword available here. The texts I found repeated the same basic facts. Blessed by multiple goddesses, sucks the power—or soul in some iterations—out of those unworthy to wield it, has not bonded in hundreds of years. There was one text that mentioned that the sword held a message to relay to its bonded, once the connection was completed.”

Stiffening, I dropped my gaze back to the sword in my hands. It had spoken to me in that otherworldly voice. Had said I might be the one it had been waiting for. Was it so far-fetched that it might have a message to convey? An agenda to fulfill? Nothing could really surprise me at this point. This week had completely turned my world and my beliefs on its head.

“What kind of message?” I asked, my voice low and as I turned the sword in my hands running a finger down the cold steel blade. The emeralds embedded in the dragonhead in place of eyes glittered in the late afternoon sun.

Why wasn’t it talking to me now?

“I don’t know.” Professor Flo stood again, drawing my gaze to her, and began pacing as I studied her. It seemed like she could not stay still for too long. That excited, buzzing energy still radiated off of her. She wanted to know the answer, needed to solve the puzzle I had become to her. I had to hope her motivations for helping me were good. That she was truly on my side.

She hadn’t done anything to make me think she wasn’t, but my run in with King Ronan had my hackles raised.

“None of the texts I read go into detail about the message itself. They merely state that there is one to be passed along.” Blowing out a breath, she sat again, burying her face in her hands. “I wish I had access to the libraries back home. I just know there’s much more detailed information available. There has to be!”

“Just so I’ve got this straight—you want me to complete the connection with the sword so that it can deliver a message it has held on to for hundreds of years?” I scrubbed a hand over my eyes. A throbbing was beginning in my temples; the tension Colin had helped me release earlier building again.

Professor Flo nodded profusely. “Exactly.”

“I’ll try. Could you please get me some water? I’m feeling a little parched.” I wasn’t, but I needed a few minutes. Maybe without her frantic pacing, I’d be able to concentrate on the sword before me.

“Of course, dear. I’ll run to the kitchens. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” I said, watching as she crossed the room and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving me alone in the room.

As soon as she was gone, the energy surrounding me calmed. I took a deep breath, in and out. I repeated that a few times, calming my mind, before placing both hands on the sword and closing my eyes.

Intent and visualization seemed to be key parts of controlling and using magic. So much of it centered on what we wanted to achieve and picturing the result in our minds. Maybe if I pictured a door, or a thread, or some sort of connection to this magnificent creation in my lap, I could speak to it again.

A bridge! I would picture a bridge between myself and… Oh, I was already sick of calling it ‘the sword’. Surely it had been named. Most weapons of this caliber were, weren’t they? Or, if it possessed its own consciousness, it might have chosen a name for itself.

A familiar hissing voice filled my mind as the sword spoke, causing me to startle in my seat.

Siesoulae is my name, Blessed One.

“I’m Riley.” There was something comforting about continuing to speak out loud, despite Siesoulae having a direct link to my mind. It felt… less invasive somehow?

I know who you are. You are who I’ve been waiting for these long, long years.

My blood was pounding in my ears as Siesoulae’s magic began mixing with my own. The feeling was heady, intoxicating. I leaned back against my chair, tilting my face toward the ceiling, my eyes still closed, as I sank into the power buzzing through my very being.

“How do you know? What if this is some mistake?”

Your power matches what was spoken of. Were you not the one I’ve been waiting for; I would have consumed your soul.

A shudder runs through me at the certainty laced through those words.

Do not fear. I will not hurt you, gentle one. I submit myself to you. My power is yours to wield in order to fulfill your destiny. I have a message for you, a prophecy. Are you ready?

A prophecy? I had no use for a prophecy. I didn’t need to know what the future held, or what seers had predicted hundreds of years ago. I didn’t want it, didn’t want any of this.

“No,” My voice wavered, the sound barely audible in the silent room. “No, I’m not ready. I don’t want your prophecy. I just want to find my brother.” A tear slid down my cheek and I resisted the urge to wipe it away, keeping both hands upon Siesoulae to maintain the connection. Some small part of me wanted to know what else she had to say.

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