Windfall had been heading back to Sacred Valley for several days now. Eithan’s premonition was too disturbing to ignore, but he still wasn’t certain it had anything to do with Sacred Valley, or they both would have rushed over.
Eithan extended a hand over the edge of the cloud fortress, and a golden light shimmered. The Bounding Gazelle, his high-speed cloudship, materialized from sparks of gold over the edge.
“We need to see for ourselves. Send a message to Yerin just in case.”
Lindon did, launching a purple-and-white butterfly after Yerin’s spiritual signature. The technique dispersed into the aura, where it would make the journey to Serpent’s Grave in hours instead of days.
Thanks to her Moonlight Bridge, Yerin could meet them anywhere at any time. She had stayed back in Serpent’s Grave to train a new batch of students and keep Mercy company, who was in between jobs for her family at the moment.
Lindon joined Eithan aboard the cloudship as it shot off, leaving the lumbering Windfall behind. He was feeling left behind himself.
“Eithan, what would it mean if Samara’s ring changed color?”
“The suppression field needs a power source,” Eithan said, still icy. “The ring around the mountain should be a side effect of housing such a source.” He was looking westward as though heading to meet a blood enemy.
Lindon picked up on the implication. If it was changing color, that meant the aspects of the power had changed. But the only thing he could think of that might cause that was the Titan’s attack.
“I would find it more alarming if the ring really was fading,” Lindon said. A loss of power to the suppression field might call the Dreadgod back. Or all of them, this time.
Eithan glanced to him, but Lindon followed the train of logic before the Archlord said a word.
“Unless…the power source was altered.” He spun out the scenario in his mind. “If it just ran out of power, we could replace it. But if it changed, that means someone else has already done that. So someone could be messing with the labyrinth from the inside.”
Eithan didn’t respond, but he flooded the propulsion constructs with madra. So much pure madra would make the ship run faster now, but it would dilute the network of constructs that ran it, so the cloudship would require extensive maintenance and repair later.
Lindon didn’t comment. They did indeed need to move faster.
They flew through the night, covering in hours what should have taken them days if not weeks in a slower vessel. Eithan began reporting before the Valley was visible to Lindon.
“Clear distortion in the ring, but I don’t see much change in color. I suspect it may not be as bright as it was. I don’t see the pillar of earth madra to the west.”
“It’s been unsteady since the Titan fed on it,” Lindon reported. “It isn’t unusual for it to vanish for days at a time.”
Eithan nodded, but he remained silent—watching—as they blasted through the skies.
Only when Lindon could see Samara’s ring with his own eyes did Eithan let out a breath of relief. His normal self leaked back into him.
“I’m not ashamed to admit that I was frightened for a while there. It seems I may have thought too much.”
“Better too much than too little. But, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, you were frightening in your own right.”
Eithan flinched. “I have heard that before. I do apologize. Take it as my reaction to…”
He trailed off. The pillar of light on the western end of Sacred Valley had returned, but now it wasn’t golden-yellow. Now it was a soft white; a color that reminded him of Samara’s ring, in fact.
That was strange, but sometimes certain aspects of madra changed color as they lost power. Still, it was better to be safe, in case someone was tinkering with the structure of Sacred Valley.
Lindon extended his perception and opened himself to the Void Icon, reaching out to the Valley. He wouldn’t be able to feel anything past the border, but he could still get a sense of the surrounding aura.
Which, he realized, was changing before his eyes.
The chaotic powers of vital aura spun like a churning sea. He traced the sensation back, expecting his senses to weaken as they approached Sacred Valley.
But they didn’t.
“Lindon, stop!” Eithan shouted.
Eithan grabbed Lindon’s shoulder and his madra flooded into Lindon’s spirit, but they were both too late. A wave of power gushed out of Sacred Valley, rushing out in all directions, sweeping over their cloudship in an instant. A pure white aura that felt to Lindon’s senses like an endless, gnawing greed for more.