Page 52 of The Maleficent Faerie
The Princess and I sit on the ledge of the Chapel roof, watching the raven shrink into the distance and vanish. I’m not sure what to say. How do I comfort someone whose parents just ordered their capture or death?
“What is it?” Aura says suddenly.
I frown, confused.
She points up into the sky, at the veils of darkness shrouding the Triune Suns. “The Void. What is it? Despite the name, it isn’t nothing. It moves in regular patterns. You pull things out of it with your magic—monsters like the Endlings. What is it, and how does it work?”
Only someone familiar with the dogma of the Caennith could understand how much it costs her to speak those words. To the followers of the Caennith religion, too much curiosity about the Void is considered foolish at best and traitorous at worst—just as fear of the Void is considered a sign of weak faith in Eonnula.
In the early days of my reign, I spent enough time learning the ways and religion of her people, thinking such knowledge might be the key to lasting peace. I was a fool. The attempt at understanding was one-sided. The Caennith Royals and their people expected me to learn their culture, but they made no attempt to understand mine.
Maybe Aura’s curiosity is the first step toward something new. It’s a pity she’ll be sleeping for a century, unable to serve as an ambassador from my kingdom to hers. That’s my fault, and the least I can do by way of reparation is to answer her questions.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “It isn’t exactly nothing. More like a kind of energy we do not understand, the opposite of heat and light. The Void is all around Midunnel, pressing inward, as you know—but parts of it are more condensed, moving through its expanse. Think of those centralized currents as a monstrous serpent out in the dark,madeof the dark, forever slithering and coiling in the emptiness that is also part of itself. When its coils loop around the suns, they are blocked out, while other stars shine brighter.”
“So when you perform magic with the Void, you…” Her voice trails off, as if she isn’t sure what specific questions to ask.
“I perform rituals in my tower at Ru Gallamet, to collect condensed tendrils of the Void. I have a wheel and a spindle of my own design, which siphons the dark energy and allows me to shape it into a form I can absorb and use.”
“You perform rituals? Like blood rituals?”
“Yes.” I sigh, rubbing my jaw. “The Void has no real consciousness that I’ve been able to discern. But when it encounters life, it attempts to consume that life, replacing life with Itself. Blood is the essence of life. So yes, blood is a necessary component of the process. Typically I use Fae blood, since I need quite a lot of it.”
“That’s why my parents didn’t want you to have me. You were going to drain my blood.”
“No!” I try to communicate my sincerity through my eyes, my voice. “No, I wouldn’t have harmed you, not permanently. I planned to have a healer on hand, to replace whatever I had to take from you.”
She scoots away, glaring, engulfed in the big woolen cape I found for her. Fierce and strong as she is, she looks so precious in that enormous cape that I want to scoop her up in my arms again.
“Listen, please,” I beg. “Let me explain.”
She pinches her lips together, but she nods.
“I’ve experimented with the Void ever since I was very young,” I continue. “To my thinking, the only thing strong enough to hold back the Void is… well, Itself. My plan is to arrange a permanent flow of the Void around Midunnel, like a belt that passes around our realm multiple times. To use the snake analogy again—this would be a part of the serpent’s coils that would constantly flow around the borders of our realm, like a moving wall. So if the rest of the Void tried to press inward, it would no longer recognize this realm as a foreign body or a threat, but as part of itself.”
“And how is that different from what we already have?” She points to the night sky.
“That thick coil of the Void, the one that blocks the suns regularly, is very far away. I’m proposing to create a defensive belt that is much closer.” Snatching a chip of pale stone, I begin to draw a diagram on the dark roof slates of the Chapel. “Here is Midunnel, a flat two-dimensional realm, but in three-dimensional space. There is already a protective dome above us, set in place by Eonnula. Not a dome of glass, but of layered air. The dome isn’t compressing downward, thankfully—the pressure of the Void is concentrated along the edges of the realm.”
Aura watches closely as I sketch the positions of the suns. I explain what I’ve charted of their movements, how they form the summer and winter seasons we know. Then I draw a wavy line and several circles to represent the path the Void follows at night.
“Always the same path,” I say earnestly. “Yet the thickness of the Void varies in places, meaning some nights are darker than others. So it is capable of rhythmic, perpetual motion, yet accommodates for variance. I’ve forced pieces of the Void to take form and to do my will. You rode on one of them—the Endling on which I brought you out of Caennith.”
She nods.
“So with magic, the Void can be solidified, formed, and bent to someone’s will.”
Her forehead puckers. “Eonnula’s will is the only one that matters.”
I close my eyes briefly, stifling my impatience. “Yes, I believe in Eonnula. It’s difficult not to when the evidence of Her work is so clear. But I don’t believe She is watching us anymore—at least, not constantly. I don’t believe She plans to interfere or send a savior. She saved us once. This time we must prove that we’re worthy. We must save ourselves.”
Aura winces, brushing back a strand of blond hair. “That’s a problematic concept for me.”
“I understand. But bear with me a little longer. As I studied the Void, I began to realize that what strengthens the air-dome above us is the direct impact of the Triune Suns. Their light focuses on the dome’s peak, then spreads outward, weakening as it reaches the edges where the Void presses most firmly. So the key to stabilizing the flow of the Void isn’t simply learning to weave the darkness into a permanent barrier—I must harness the light as well. And who is best at channeling the light and power of Eonnula? Why, the Conduit of Caennith. Imagine it—if I could spin dark energy into a perpetual coil, a protective wall around Midunnel! Imagine a barrier the Void cannot breach, reinforced and stabilized by the power of Eonnula Herself!”
Aura’s gaze lifts to mine, shining with renewed interest.
“I tried your father’s blood,” I tell her. “Your mother’s Conduit power is the result of their marriage, but his is directly inherited. It seemed to be working, at first. But it failed, and I began to suspect I needed fresher blood—perhaps the blood of a Conduit who had not yet ascended, who had never received and transmitted magical power before. At the very least, I thought it would be worth a try. And then, if that didn’t work, I thought I could try the Conduit’s blood again after their ascension.”
