The Rifts of Psyche by Kyle West (i love reading .txt) 📕

Arian. The first way was to gather all the Orbs and hold them, becoming the new Immortal Emperor. Or, to take the Orbs to the Heart of Creation, from where they had originated. The Heart of Creation was only reachable through the First Gate deep in Dark Space, the abode of the Alkasen. Only there could the Immortal destroy the Orbs, ending magic and the Starsea Cycle once and for all.

Once Lucian was done, it was hours later. Night had fallen, and no one made a move to adjourn the meeting. Everyone was quiet and solemn, even Fergus, who seemed at a loss for words for once. There had been so much information that Lucian was afraid he’d left something out, or even worse, said something incorrectly. Even saying it out loud sounded like pure madness, and he was half-expecting any one of them, or perhaps all, to throw him out of Kiro once and for all.

But none of them laughed. All just watched him with what seemed to be pity.

Elder Ytrib was the one to break the silence. “Thank you, Lucian. I would call an end to this council, were this not a matter of such gravity. But as it stands, we cannot disperse until we decide what we are going to do about the Orb. Every second that passes, the Sorceress-Queen’s agents draw nearer.” He paused to look at him, and Lucian got the feeling a hammer was about to fall. “You can’t remain in Kiro, Lucian. The Sorceress-Queen would just find you here. But there is nowhere on all of Psyche for you to go. This world is a prison, and wherever you run, the Sorceress-Queen will hunt you down. Be it days, weeks, months, or years, she will one day find you.”

Everyone nodded at that, and it sent peals of dread down Lucian’s spine.

“There is only one clear answer,” Elder Jalisa said, her eyes sad as she watched him. “As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Everyone watched her, looking for some shred of hope in the situation. Elder Erymmo was already nodding, as if he had guessed where she was going.

“It’s said that the Orb of Psionics is somewhere on this moon. Arian mentioned an Ancient named Shantozar who came here, one of the seven Oracles of Starsea. Or at least, he came to a world that matches the description of this one. The pertinent part he wrote reads thus:

“Under the White World with red-whorl eye,

Upon a moon of violet, violent sky;

Peers beneath Burning Sands and wind,

Lies the Amethyst of Starsea within.”

She paused, to let the words sink in. “Or so such a line might be translated from his mad garble. Ever since the end of the Mage War, many mages on Psyche have heard those words and have sought the Orb of Psionics, to no avail. But the prophecy clearly speaks of Psyche. The White World with red-whorl eye must be Cupid. Psyche is the moon with violet and violent sky. The Burning Sands lie under Cupid’s gaze, and they even derive the name from those lines. And the Amethyst of Starsea is clear enough. Each of the Orbs was called by its attendant jewel. Psionics is violet in its manifestation. Therefore, the Orb of Psionics, the Amethyst of Starsea, lies buried somewhere in the Burning Sands, under the Great Gaze of Cupid’s Eye.”

Cleon suddenly stood. “All right. Enough. I know I don’t belong here. I don’t understand a word of what anyone is saying. I’m leaving. I’ll never breathe a word of this to anyone, you have my promise.”

“You’re in too deep now, Mage-Knight,” Fergus said. “Keep your seat.”

Lucian thought Cleon would really leave this time, but to his surprise, Cleon sat back down, sinking into a sullen silence.

“The Sorceress-Queen said the Orb is on Psyche as well,” Lucian said. “At least, she said as much in my dream. I don’t think she wants to kill me. At least, not immediately. I think her plan is to use me to find the Orb of Psionics, somehow.”

He left out the part about her invitation to work with her. All the Elders knew that by now, but to say so out loud in front of Fergus might only flare his suspicions and make things more difficult going ahead.

“I wish you well in your quest, Off-Worlder,” Fergus said. “You can find the Burning Sands far beyond the Pass of Madness. Perhaps with your Binding powers, you will find a way where others have not.”

At those words, Lucian felt a despondence such as he had never known. Was that truly to be his fate, to be sent on a mad quest with almost no possibility of success?

Well, that was what he signed up for the moment he gave himself up to the prison barge.

“Getting to Dara itself is a nearly impossible journey,” Elder Sina said. “Much more the Burning Sands beyond. They say those who enter that place lose their way and never come back. Lucian can’t ever hope to uncover the Orb of Psionics alone. It is only with the power of that Orb that he can hope to defeat the Sorceress-Queen and her Psionic Magic.”

“Then there’s no hope,” Cleon said.

“No,” Ytrib said. “There is no use saying something is impossible until you’ve tried.”

“Many have tried to find it,” Fergus reminded him. “All have failed.”

“But that doesn’t mean it is impossible,” Ytrib said, stubbornly. “I know. It’s easy for me to say, sitting here.”

None of them seemed to consider the obvious: what if Lucian didn’t want to do this? He knew he had no real choice. The Sorceress-Queen would hunt him wherever he went, of that he had no doubt. And there was the even more impossible goal of getting off Psyche altogether. The Orb of Psionics could apparently help with that as well, though he didn’t know how.

“I have no choice,” Lucian said. “I will leave tomorrow if that’s what it takes.”

“You cannot do this alone, Lucian,”