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

“Yes, the Focus. You think your power comes from the amount of ether you stream?” She shook her head. “That’s what most men think. The bigger, the better. They see their magic as the metaphorical extension of . . . well, you get the picture. It can be impressive, but if your magic is all raw bludgeoning, you’ll only exhaust yourself and whoever else you’re trying to impress.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better metaphor?”

She chuckled. “Perhaps. My point is magic takes finesse. It comes from the deepness of your Focus, the steadiness of your resolve. Some of the greatest mages I’ve known had limited pools of ether. Can you imagine what you could do with your Orb if you only learned to Focus properly?”

Despite himself, Lucian found himself intrigued. “So, how do I do that?”

“Hours of introspection and meditation. How else?”

“I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

They were silent as one rift passed after another. Rifts that would have taken days, or even weeks, to traverse. They passed them in mere minutes. This was the distance they had intended to cross? The Sorceress-Queen was right. They most likely would have died.

“Why are we going to this Golden Palace first?” he asked. “Wouldn’t it be faster to go directly to the Burning Sands?”

“We must resupply. The journey to Psyche’s Planetside is long, and the land is barren. And my Binders will need a rest. It will also give me the chance to show you my court. Your friends, too.”

Lucian watched the Binders pull the massive airship along. They were making good speed, now. “I can’t imagine that’s easy to keep up.”

“It isn’t,” she confirmed. “But my Binders are the best in the Worlds. No one gets more practice than them, in war or in peace.”

“Are you not afraid of them fraying?”

“The fraying finds us all sooner or later.”

“What’s your secret, then?”

“Remember what I told you. Learn to Focus properly, and you can stream more purely. Even if the Academies are wrong about most things, they aren’t wrong about that. As misguided as they are, the Transcends are sure of themselves, and take great care when streaming. There must be a good reason for everything you do, whether in magic or in life. What is your reason?”

“To find the Orbs.”

“And yet, you doubt yourself. I hear it in your voice. You never wanted this burden, and yet, the Manifold has chosen you for it.”

She had put it quite succinctly, which was annoying. “That sounds about right.”

“No wonder you’re having the trouble you are. Until you fully accept your destiny, the Orb will be the one pulling the leash, not you.”

Lucian didn’t want to believe her, even if this was the millionth time repeating herself. Believing her meant that all this was true. That he had to change. That he could no longer hold the false belief that he could go back to his old life.

But most of all, the Sorceress-Queen was the last person he wanted to rely on as a mentor.

“It seems impossible,” he said. “Why would the Manifold have chosen me? It seems beyond belief.”

“I have no answer for that, Lucian. But this is the hand we’ve been dealt, which means we have to try.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m here, Lucian. You’re here. This is a golden opportunity to discover what has eluded so many mages. Within the week, the Orb of Psionics could be in your hand, and the plans I’ve laid out can begin in earnest. And after that, only five Orbs would remain. We will study The Prophecy of the Seven to unlock the locations of the rest. If you truly are the Chosen, those words will reveal themselves to you.”

Lucian had to find a way to get his hands on that prophecy if what she’d said was true. But where to find it? Perhaps the Golden Palace in Dara had a copy.

They both fell into silence. The Sorceress-Queen looked out onto the expanse of the current rift they were in. He couldn’t help but watch her from his peripheral vision. All this conversation had done the last thing he wanted. She had been humanized . . . somewhat. What if all this was really true? What if she really did want to help him? Maybe she was as evil as everyone was saying. But couldn’t there be shades of good in that?

There was a person beneath that royal veneer. A person named Ansaldra, who actually believed she was doing the right thing. And she had a reason for it. She hated the way the mages had been treated after the Mage War and even before it, and thought it was time the mages took the reins – while reining in the fraying. It was an idea Lucian could at least understand, if not get behind fully.

Even if she had been somewhat humanized, he couldn’t allow his loyalties to be divided. His first responsibility was to his friends, not her.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. His first responsibility was to the Orbs. And who could help him find and use the Orbs most effectively?

He drove that thought from his mind. He didn’t like where it was leading him.

“I will permit you to speak to your friends,” she said, “but only if you commit to work with me.”

“Am I supposed to be your pet or something?”

Her violet eyes gleamed with mischief. “If you wish to think yourself that way, then that’s your choice. If you wish to make yourself angry by playing the victim, that’s your choice, too. My advice is to stop being the victim. It’s only then that you’ll experience true freedom. And for that matter, would it really be so horrible to learn from someone who knows what they’re talking about?”

Lucian saw she would accept no other answer, nor did he have another choice. This was his reality, and the sooner he faced it, the sooner he could find a way to extricate he and