Yerin stiffened, but Whisper had already moved on to Lindon. “He is the first product of the experiments that resulted in the creation of the Dreadgods. In the myths that tell of his existence, he is sometimes called the fifth Dreadgod, and sometimes the first. The Father of Hunger, some call him. The Slumbering Wraith. But I have seen notes from his observers calling him Subject One.”
Lindon’s mind flicked back to the old notes he’d once studied with Fisher Gesha, wishing Dross was here to help him sort his thoughts.
He had questions, but the elder had turned to Little Blue. “No one should look forward to fighting Dreadgods. It is not a pleasant task, but they cannot be allowed to rampage forever.”
Lindon and the others had done battle with the Wandering Titan at its weakest, and it had taken everything they had just to convince it to trample someone else. It was the equivalent of curling up and letting an opponent whale on you with their fists in the hopes that they tired themselves out and walked away.
For the moment it had worked, in the sense that the Titan had chosen not to bother with them anymore. It could come back at any time.
But there wasn’t much left in Sacred Valley to defend.
“Can we get into the labyrinth?” Lindon asked.
“There is a way inside. The Sage of the Endless Sword took advantage of it, and so can you.”
Lindon stared into the distant clouds outside the window and thought. His arm could use repairs, and there were countless people from Sacred Valley that lacked protection and guidance. He was concerned about Orthos, the whole team needed rest, and he needed to get his family—and his own cloud fortress—back from Moongrave.
From his pocket, he pulled out a clear marble with a single blue candle-flame burning at its center. He turned it in his fingers.
It seemed forever ago that Suriel had given him that marble, but at the same time, like almost no time had passed at all. He had expected his task to take him the rest of his life.
Now it was over. Sacred Valley, or what was left of it, was saved.
He wasn’t sure whether to consider it a success or a failure, but either way his mission was done. He had started to climb a mountain, expecting it to take decades, only to suddenly find himself at the peak.
Maybe it was that realization that helped him feel how tired he really was.
He had time now. Time to rest, time to spend with Yerin, time to practice Soulsmithing, time to learn what it meant to be a Sage. Time to get to know his family again, though he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.
But there was one concern that outweighed the rest.
Dross.
Eithan had said that Dross might come back on his own, but Lindon couldn’t sit by and wait to see what happened. He would learn as much as he could.
At least now he had the time.
“There should be plenty of Soulsmithing records inside the labyrinth, right?” Lindon asked Elder Whisper.
The fox shot him a look. “It is a repository of ancient truths, as well as the home and workplace of the greatest Soulsmiths in history. You could study there for the next five hundred years and never reach the depths of their understanding.”
“Gratitude. Then I intend to learn whatever I can from the labyrinth, but we still need to discuss our next actions. Together.”
Elder Whisper raised his eyebrows in an expression that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a human face. “I expected more commitment from you.”
“There are too many questions left. For one thing, if you know about this, why haven’t the Monarchs taken action?”
“I have had…dreams.”
Lindon blinked at the fox’s abrupt change in topic, but Elder Whisper only continued. “Once in a long while, when the heavens allow, I can catch a glimpse of Fate in my dreams. And when I dream of seeking out Monarchs, I see death. My death, always. Sometimes also the death of our home.”
“What causes it?” Lindon asked. “Which Monarchs?”
“I regret to say I cannot tell, but much is unclear to me. The Monarchs should not need me to petition them in any case. They should know much more about the contents of the labyrinth than I do, and yet they have refused to move. This is one of the answers you should seek in the depths.”
“I will,” Lindon said. “But I’m not going by myself.”
Yerin gave him a decisive nod.
“Numbers are of limited use in the labyrinth. You may…”
Elder Whisper continued speaking, but his words faded to the back of Lindon’s awareness. Something invaded his consciousness—a message, but deeper and softer than words. Impossibly distant.