Eternal Night

The man stands uncertain before the precipice. He cannot trust, cannot take that leap of faith. It is dark below, black as eternal night, and he is afraid of what lies in those depths. She steps up to him, in the end the only one who truly knows, and takes his hand. His fingers are cold, deadly cold. Grey eyes, blue eyes.

Lowen’s vision, fourteen years after the Enchanter entered that other invisible realm

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In the Realm of the Dispossessed

“How do I open it?” Sabian asked, rolling the metal orb over.

“Drop it,” Elianas muttered, staring fixedly at the sphere.

Sabian dropped it.

Torrullin stepped away a pace, a mask slipping over his face.

The petals appeared as expected and there the green sparking commenced.

Sabian leaned over it. “Intriguing. My experience tells me of wisps of white smoke, sometimes colourful flower designs, but a moving sphere is quite rare. One cannot usually see souls; it is more a sense of sight. This one is pretty established.” He looked up. “It is either long held, in which case, innocent or not, it will be most unhappy, or it is newly harvested and therefore still maintains clear presence.”

Neither man said a word in response.

Sabian shrugged and kneeled. “I shall now breathe on it.”

Torrullin cleared his throat. “Breathe? As simple as that?”

“My ancient breath was not given me via simplicity, Torrullin.”

“True.” Torrullin swallowed. “Go ahead.”

Sabian leaned in close. Elianas abruptly hunkered to see more clearly, while Torrullin remained unmoving. Sabian blew on the swirling emerald orb. Torrullin became as stone. He understood he now guarded his heart against whatever came next. The kneeling man opened his mouth wide and exhaled forcefully.

The spinning ceased.

Sparks snuffed out.

Elianas braced with hands flat on the ground beside him.

The circular shape curved outward and then elongated into an impossibly thin thread reaching into the sky. Green sprinkles erupted as if exploding, and then they vanished. The metal device disintegrated, until only dull glitters remained.

“Direct to Aaru,” Sabian murmured, sitting back.

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THE MASTER MECHANISM

Message from the Ancient Past

If you are searching for a ticking clock, heed me now. If you have accidentally found this message, you will not remember ever seeing or hearing. I am Immirin of the Lorin. Hear me, listener. In the ancient stone of Akhavar there is a receptacle able to hold and hide and safeguard the master mechanism. Find it. Inscribe inside the word Eurue, but be certain it matches exactly with the inscription on the keystone. Protect the clock until this is achieved. When the words lock, it will vanish from view and time will be sheltered. If you seek greater clarity, speak to the Syllvan of Reaume.

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From THE MASTER MECHANISM