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

“It’s the rifts,” she said. “They form natural barriers to the mages ever coming together. And where there are natural barriers, there are social barriers, too. Even now, a mere fifty years after the inception of this prison, cultures have diverged, and even new dialects are forming.”

“What’s the whole point of this rotting speech?” Cleon asked.

The Sorceress-Queen held up an appeasing hand. “If you think you can intimidate me with a little cursing, I would not be the Queen of Dara. And I’ve heard much worse among the dockhands and sailors of Hephaestus Station, where I grew up long, long ago.”

Such a thing seemed unimaginable, but Lucian couldn’t let that fact humanize her further. But it seemed his friends were now listening to her, albeit with skepticism.

“All of this does have a point,” she said. “The Transcends and the League selected Psyche because they surmised the rifts would keep them disunited, separate, bickering. The last thing they want is for the mages to unite. The whole intent of this moon was for us to fray and die, turning on each other like animals.” She smiled bitterly. “Self-appointed genocide, since the Treaty of Chiron forbade outright execution of the mages.”

She paused to let that sink in. Lucian had to admit, a lot of what she was saying made sense.

“If not for me, this moon would still be in chaos. The Riftlands are the only area not under my rule – again, because of the inaccessibility of the rifts themselves. And no, not everyone agrees with my methods, and not everyone is treated equally in the Daran Empire. But my aim is to make magekind strong, not to allow a babel of voices to cause confusion. Democracy is messy, and such messiness is the luxury of a society that doesn’t live in brutal conditions. We cannot afford luxury. We must be strong. If we are to escape this world, we mages must be united, led by a single leader. We must be everything the League is not – strong, unified, and precise in our attacks.”

“I want no part of that,” Serah said. “And I don’t know why you’re telling us all this.” Her eyes turned to Lucian. “You don’t believe all this rot, do you?”

“No,” Lucian said. At least, he didn’t think he did. “But the Sorceress-Queen will help us find the Orb of Psionics. Or at least, that’s what she claims.”

“Lies,” Cleon hissed. “She wants the rotting thing for herself!”

“I don’t,” the Sorceress-Queen said. “Lucian is the Chosen of the Manifold. The prophecies of Arian stated that the Chosen would come to the world of Shantozar with a sacred Orb of Starsea in hand. I had dreams of Lucian’s arrival, and detected the Orb he held. I am the most powerful Psionic in the Worlds. If I do not believe in the power of my own prophecy, then I am lost. Therefore, I am only fulfilling my end. It is my role to help Lucian, and anyone who helps Lucian is my ally.”

“So, you’re one of the good guys?” Cleon scoffed. “Fat chance of that.”

“There is no good and bad,” the Sorceress-Queen said. “The sooner you get that notion out of your head, the better off you’ll be. The only good is that which you are willing to fight and die for. If you know that about a person, then you know them to the core. So, I’m going to tell you my dream, what I will fight and die for. I fight for a United Empire of Magekind, freed from the fraying in a future where all of Arian’s Orbs have been found. I believe Lucian, as Chosen, is our best chance of that happening.” She spread her arms. “There it is. That is what I want. You can use it to help me, or to destroy me.”

Serah looked at Lucian desperately. “Do you believe all this?”

All of them were looking at him for direction. Once again, Lucian was cognizant of the fact that Fergus was no longer the leader of this expedition. He hated having that burden. Especially because the Queen had him somewhat convinced.

They deserved a straight answer, even if it meant losing trust with them. “I understand your reasons for distrusting her. I do myself. But we have no choice. We would have died in the Darkrift. Even you guys have to see that by now. The Sorceress-Queen is offering to take us to the Burning Sands herself.” All of them were looking at him. It was hard to tell what they were thinking. “My point is, regardless of who she is or what she has done, this might be our only chance to get the Orb.”

“She’s just using you to take it for herself,” Cleon said. “She doesn’t believe that rot about uniting magekind. If she finds the Orb, then she will take you out. Then she’ll have two Orbs.”

“Once again,” the Queen said, icily, “I’m not the Chosen. The Chosen is the only one who can wield the Orbs.”

“That’s the thing,” Cleon said. “It’s your prophecy. You could’ve just made all that up.”

“I sense that you are especially against me, especially relative to the others,” the Sorceress-Queen said. “But you really shouldn’t be.” Her eyes sharpened as her full attention focused on him. “Cleon, is it?”

“Get out of my head!”

“I’m not in your head,” she said. “Mage-Lord Kiani reminded me earlier. You were one of his Mage-Knights who went missing. Cleon Coley. Your parents died during the Westland Rebellion, putting you and your sister under the charge of Mage-Lord Kiani.”

“What of it?” he spat.

“That sister married Kiani.”

Everyone watched Cleon with shock. Could that be true? If so, what was the story there?

“I was there when the Butcher of the Westlands ordered the slaughter of Kalm,” Cleon finally said. “Hundreds of men, women, and children, dead. And for what? For standing up to your unjust rule? And you forced my sister to marry him,