Page 280 of The Dryad Storm

Valen blinks in surprise at the desperation in all the Mages’ eyes. Deeply thrown, he looks to Fern. Her rose-hued brow is high with surprise, her gaze narrowing into a look of concern. He turns to Diana, who seems to be swallowing a growl, her nostrils flared, her forearms now covered in golden fur. A tortured question in his eyes, Valen meets Rafe’s amber gaze as some of that turmoil from his younger years floods back, a shard of it forever lodged in his core.

“Rafe...” Valen starts.

Rafe brings his hand to Valen’s shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “This Change,” Rafe says, adamant, “is freely chosen.” He flits his gaze toward the Mages before it slides back to Valen. “It’sneverforced. Hear them out if you need to, my son.”

Valen pulls in a deep breath, bolstered by Rafe’s unyielding acceptance as he’s filled with the sudden desire to hear what his Mage’kin have to say. And so Valen nods once at the woman and follows the Mages out of the clearing and into the Forest.

He pauses when they’re a few paces in, overcome by the feeling that these Mages would lead him far away, if they could.

And he has no intention of being led away.

They stop and turn to him, their urgency burning through the air.

“Valen, you are not just my kin,” the desperate woman states, bringing her hand to his arm, eyes ferocious, as if she’swillinghim to understand her earnestness via her stare alone. “You are the Magedom’s last, great hope. Valen, you are our people’snext Great Mage.”

Valen stiffens. He’s studied history. Read books given to him by Jules andLucretia. He’s clear on what came of the Magedom having ultimate power.

And he knows that the power in him is beyond Level Five.

“The last time the Mages had power,” Valen says to her, “Marcus Vogel took apart the world.”

“AnIcaral demontook apart the world,” the woman seethes before pausing, as if she’s casting about to find the right words to make himsee. She swipes her hand toward the clearing. “You’ve beentrickedandfooled. Brainwashed into believing those heathens and demons should not be slain. Like that demon Marcus Vogel should have been slain. The Magedom itself was led astray. But, Valen, you can change all that for us. You can bring about the true Reaping Times andfully cleanse Erthia.”

She is staring at him with an expression of such hopeful rapture that a chill shivers down Valen’s spine, his emotions rapidly overtaken by a rush of shocked anger.

But then, something else floods in to replace it.

A mixture of pity and gratitude. Pity for these Mages and their life-limiting hatred and delusions. And vast gratitude that they are no longer in power. That they have no power overhim.

“The Reaping Times won’t save Erthia,” he insists, quiet and certain.

An expression of pained compassion floods the woman’s severe face. “Oh, my nephew, you’ve beenmisled—”

“No.” Valen cuts her off, revulsion for her destructive ignorance shuddering through him. “Stabilizing the weather. Rewilding the land and safeguarding the Waters. Protecting the mangroves. Planting trees. All of us, working together.That’swhat’s going to save Erthia. And if you join with us, the Forest will welcome you.”

The woman’s expression turns vicious. “Don’t do this, Valen,” she hisses. “Don’t let yourself be led down a heathen path. We won’t let you throw your life away. We won’t let you throw away the Magedom’sonly chance to rise again. You can’t let that bastard Urisk’s daughter become the next Black Witch!”

For a moment, Valen’s mind spins with confusion.

That bastard Urisk’s daughter...

Comprehension lights, quickly followed by sheer incredulity.

They’re speaking of Or’myr and Tierney’s teenage daughter, Li’ra, a Level Five Mage-geomancer, who is Fyn’ir’s secret crush. Li’ra, who is named for Or’myr’s mother and looksexactlylike a purple-hued Elloren and holds Black Witch level power, only Valen’s own power able to best hers.

Li’ra’s face anexact replicaof the Black Witch’s.

A purple Black Witch.

Amusement bubbles up inside Valen.

Yes, he thinks,if anyone should be the next Great Mage, it should be Li’ra. And she’s welcome to it.Time for a Xishlon-bright violet branch on the Black Witch family tree.

The sheer outrageousness of the situation sends laughter breaking through Valen’s throat, which seems to cast the Mage woman into near spasming anger.

“You cannot fight the Ancient One’s Holy Will!” she shrieks at him.

Valen jumps back as two of the male Mages draw wands, viper fast, but Valen is faster, his wand unsheathed as he recites a spell and deploys it.

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