Malice gave a disgusted expression. “They’re fearsome in more than one way. Anyway, this day had to come eventually. Swear not to reveal this to the uninformed, and I won’t force you to ascend.”
For yet another time that day, Lindon was pushed into swearing an oath. It hung in the air between them, unfulfilled.
He hesitated, but Malice kept speaking. “You’re a true Sage now, so it’s only appropriate that you take on a measure of responsibility. When any Sage or Herald comes close to the truth, or makes enough progress in their advancement, we make them swear.”
“I…apologies, but I feel somewhat…uncomfortable.”
“You only contribute to the situation once you advance to Monarch. And you can do nothing to change the situation until you do advance. Accepting an unpleasant situation you are powerless to change is not treachery, it is maturity.”
She spoke reasonably, and Lindon made sure he looked appropriately relieved. He dropped to one knee to lend weight to his words as he swore the oath.
“I swear on my soul that I will never reveal, without permission, that the Dreadgods only remain alive because the Monarchs will not ascend.”
Malice ran a hand over his head before he stood. “Good boy. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.” Dross was pushed out of Lindon’s spirit by the force of her attention.
The one-eyed spirit undulated through the air, his motions serpentine and disturbing to watch. [I have seen ancient secrets, and the truth of them has changed me, muta—]
Dross suddenly plummeted out of the air and slammed to the ground, flattened like a leaf beneath Malice’s casual spiritual pressure.
Though Lindon could sense the lack of violence in the Monarch’s will, he still involuntarily took a step forward to save Dross before he stopped himself.
“You can speak like a Monarch when you live inside one,” Malice said softly. “Until then, swear.”
[I…swear,] Dross choked out.
He swore, and Malice released him.
All along, Eithan had stood smiling at the entire scene. Malice looked at him with an expression of playfully exaggerated suspicion.
“If I didn’t know better, I would suspect you were up to something, Arelius.”
“I’m just enjoying the wonderful weather,” Eithan said, looking up into the endless black sky.
“I am a busy woman.” Malice’s voice resonated. “Swear to me now that you are already bound by Tiberian’s oath and therefore cannot speak the truth of the Dreadgods.”
“I do swear, have sworn, and will not speak,” Eithan said easily.
The air trembled and Malice finally clapped her hands together. “Well now! I will call on you soon. If the Dreadgods have been affected as I suspect…well, dark days are ahead for those not under the protection of a Monarch. But when we do battle against Dreadgods, all who can affect them will be mobilized. Prepare yourselves.”
The black sky retreated, and Malice was gone. Lindon stood under a blue sky, on the grassy green side of the mountain called the Greatfather…and Eithan, Ziel, Yerin, Orthos, and Little Blue were standing next to him.
Everyone looked around as though startled to be there. He could feel shock radiating from Orthos and Little Blue.
Yerin stared blankly at Lindon. “Let me give you what just happened, from my perch: Mercy’s mother dragged me into a shadow, patted me on the head, then tossed me back out with the rest of you. Am I about to be a Remnant?”
[Our secrets have been bound inside us by a greater will!] Dross said. [Be grateful that you do not share the burden of glorious knowledge, as we do, lest you attract the attention of Monarchs.]
Yerin’s gaze turned to Lindon.
“Apologies. We are sworn not to say anything about…whatever it is she wished to speak to us about.”
“So something happened with Reigan Shen.”
“No, not him specifically.” Eithan clutched at his chest. “Alas! I feel the oath tightening around me, preventing me from speaking!”
Yerin looked around at all of them.
“What is this?” Orthos demanded. “Do not keep secrets from us!”
Little Blue gave an offended clang.
When Yerin looked at him, Ziel shrugged. “No clue. But if a Monarch made them swear to keep their mouths shut, they’re not going to say anything.”
Lindon sighed. “It was actually a more ironclad oath than I expected. I had expected to be able to write you a letter, or give you a dream tablet, but it seems that I can’t willingly bring up the subject.”