Page 55 of Mother of Death and Dawn

MAX

It was a long time before either of us said anything—so long that the sound of Brayan’s voice jolted me more than the spray of seawater.

How long had I just been staring out at the horizon? There was nothing but the sea around us, Ilyzath’s shape long ago consumed by the misty sky. Blue-grey stretched out in all directions.

“What?”

“How did you get out?” Brayan repeated.

I honestly did not know how to answer that question.

I will let you go if you take a piece of me with you.

The memory was like a fever dream. I still struggled to wrap my mind around what had just occurred. None of the pieces fit together right.

I told him the truth, the story in its bizarre entirety, partly out of curiosity to see if it would seem as fucking outlandish out loud as it did in my head. The answer, it turned out, was very much yes.

When I finished, Brayan looked like he was more certain than ever that I’d completely lost my mind, and I didn’t blame him for it one bit.

“I know it sounds…” I settled on, “Strange.”

“It does,” he agreed.

But Ilyzath itself was strange. No one knew exactly how it worked. It was widely regarded to be one of the oldest magical locations in the world—older than Ara itself by millennia.

I looked down at the mark Ilyzath had given me. It was a circle of symbols, unintelligible, spiraling in tighter towards my palm. The flesh was slightly raised and red, as if angry.

Then I looked up at Brayan.

“Why were you there?” I asked. “Just… waiting at Ilyzath?”

He gave me a long, cold stare, not answering. It was the same sort of look he used to give me when I was a child. He had the same dark eyes as our mother, nearly black, and every time he’d looked at me, I’d felt like there were limitless judgements and demands hiding in that darkness.

“Why wouldn’t I be there?” he said. “I’ve been there every day.”

I blinked. “You— what?”

He looked to the horizon and avoided eye contact. “We need to think about where—”

“Brayan, answer the Ascended-damned question.”

“You haven’t changed,” he remarked, and just as I was about to spit a curse and give up, he added, “I answered your question. I was at Ilyzath because I have been there every day. I was trying to see you. Not that the Syrizen would allow it.”

Many, many unbelievable things had happened over these last few months. And yet, it wasthisthat seemed so ridiculous that I let out a snort of laughter before I could stop myself.

His stare darkened. “What about that is funny?”

“I just…” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Brayan Farlione, renowned general, loyal Aran, golden child of the Ryvenai upper class, justbroke me out of prison.”

“I didn’t break you out. You were already out. I just had the boat.”

He said this very, very seriously, and in that moment, it was the most hilarious thing I’d ever heard in my sorry life.

Maybe I was just going insane.

Going? No, actually, that ship had likely long ago sailed.

Brayan watched me, unamused. Long seconds passed. The sound of the sea lapping against the boat became deafening long after my laughter subsided, fading into awkward silence.

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