Page 16 of Sundered By Fate

The woman he'd helped escape from the demon lord Darioth's hunt, what felt like half a lifetime ago.

Relief coursed through Aric, a flood of it, seeing Ruta alive and well. So much had been left unsaid in the demon realm, so much he'd worried over, prayed over, even when he told himself such things were pointless.

Malekith's face as he'd made Aric that promise to save her.

Aric hadn't known if he could believe it then. Had thought there was a good chance he'd seen Malekith's face for the last time.

But here she was, not only free but aiding the Silver Tower.

"F-forgive me," Ruta said, folding her arms over her chest. "I just . . . I never thought I'd see you again. And after everything . . ." She bit her lower lip.

Olaya laid a reassuring hand on Ruta's shoulder. "The demons left a trail of bloodshed and destruction on their way back from their latest campaign." Her eyes locked onto Aric's with an intensity that burned almost as much as his fire. "But your warning—sent back safely with Ruta—helped us prepare for an attack all the same."

Aric's heart sank at the thought of what had happened since he left the demon realm—but they did not yet know of the greater threat of the anomaly creeping in on the human lands, like the one he'd seen near Thornhaven. At least for now, he could hold on to this much: They were still fighting. They hadn't surrendered to despair or given up hope.

A distant sound rose from beyond the closed doors—the Pureblades, most likely taking a closer inspection of some disturbance elsewhere in Thornhaven—and Aric felt his spine stiffen as Olaya drew back.

"We have much to discuss," Olaya said quietly. "And little time to do it in."

Olaya's demeanor shifted, her tone businesslike. "Let's begin. Aric, tell us everything you know about the demons' plans."

"I will, in time. I promise. But there's something more pressing."

"Morepressing? What could possibly be more important than that?"

Aric hesitated, unsure how much to say. "I've witnessed some . . . disturbing phenomena," Aric began. "Magic anomalies, powerful enough to rip up and distort the fabric of the leylines. I first saw them outside of Brenville, but there's a patch . . . an area outside of this town, too, that bears evidence of their damage."

Olaya's eyes narrowed. "Magic anomalies? This is what you're concerned with?"

"It is," Aric said, fighting to keep his tone even. "Because I believe it's the Silver Tower's new weaponry that's causing them. And if they don't rein it in carefully, it could bring far more devastation than any demon horde."

Olaya's expression shifted to one of shock, then anger. "What weapon are you talking about?"

Aric studied her face. The lines around her eyes betrayed her age, the weight of countless battles fought and lives saved. But there was something else there, too—a flicker of guilt, a shadow lurking behind her calm facade. He wondered if she was hiding something from him, if she'd been involved in whatever had caused the anomaly. He wanted to believe in her, trust in the woman who'd guided him through his early years as a mage. But so much had changed, and the world felt like it was teetering on the brink of chaos.

"Olaya." Aric's voice was quiet but firm. "You know what I'm talking about."

Her mouth twisted, and she shook her head. "Aric."

Aric's heart sank. She was lying to him. Whether it was out of loyalty to the Silver Tower, or to shield the other mages here from it, or some other motive, he couldn't say. But it hurt all the same.

"When we were in Drindal," Aric said, doing his best to mask any reaction, "the demons found some older schematics of theirs."

"Impossible," she scoffed.

"They recovered several sets of blueprints as they swept through the villages that had been overrun."

"Even if they have some scribblings that look like Tower designs?—"

"It's not the designs alone that concern me—it's the ley lines they're attempting to destabilize to power it." He held up a hand. "I know you have reason to distrust me—I know I've given you every reason to doubt my loyalty—but I need to ask you to please be honest with me now. Because my understanding is that this is an entirely unprecedented plan—one that even High Mage Diviandra was opposed to implementing when she caught wind of it." His heart squeezed at just saying her name—his mentor within the Tower proper.

Olaya opened her mouth as if to protest again, but Aric held up one hand, palm out.

"I know I don't deserve your trust after . . . after everything," he admitted. "But this isn't just about me. This is about all of us—all our people." And perhaps more than even his people's fate hung in the balance.

"Why should I believe anything you say?" Olaya asked.

Aric's fists clenched at his sides—the fire burning beneath them—but he forced himself to stay calm. He needed her help, now more than ever.

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