Page 202 of Children of Fallen Gods

“I needed him.”

I did not like that answer. Vardir had nothing good to contribute to this world.

“Needed him for what?” Tisaanah asked.

Vardir slammed the door behind him as he left, leaving us in heavy silence. Nura did not turn.

“There is a lot I need to explain to you,” she said. “And it is going to be difficult for me.”

She turned around. In her hands rested a long, shallow bowl of hammered gold. Thin, silver liquid filled it to the brim, and on the still-as-glass surface was a crimson Stratagram, maintaining its shape with unnatural stillness even as Nura walked closer to us.

My brow furrowed.

“Is that—”

“Yes.” She looked down at the contents of the bowl, frowning. The expression on her face made the skin prickle at the back of my neck. So unlike the version of her that I had known for so long.

“You know, everyone thinks I’m so unfeeling. Socold.” Her lip twitched. “All because I don’t run around spilling my soul. All because words just aren’t enough to…”

She trailed off.

“What is that?” Tisaanah asked.

“This,” Nura said, “is a spell. Rare, and difficult to cast. It can only be created by Valtain, and used only once. It will show you… me. My memories.”

I was struck speechless.

I couldn’t believe it. Out of all of the ridiculous things that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, this nearly topped them all. To give someone access to your memories was a deeply vulnerable act, especially since such a spell couldn’t even fully define what the receiver saw. The idea of Nura doing it —Nura, who had guarded her thoughts and her heart with barbed wire even when we were the most important people in each other’s lives — seemed downright ludicrous.

“Why?” I blurted out.

Her eyes found mine, a silent plea in them. “Because there is so much I need to make you understand.”

Seeing Nura like this made the hair prickle on the back of my neck. There was a cruel humor to it. A decade ago, I would have treasured such intimacy. Now it was being offered to me years later, not out of any semblance of love but out of… what? Fear?

She cleared her throat. “Well? Do you want to stand around asking more questions, or do you want answers?”

I wasn’t sure if I did want these answers.

But I slipped my fingers into the cold liquid anyway. Tisaanah did the same. And finally, Nura did too, pressing her palms to the bottom of the bowl.

She closed her eyes, and her magic rolled over us like a crashing wave.

And with it came the past.

Chapter Seventy-One

Nura

Nura is ten years old. She is at a party thrown by one of her grandmother’s business partners. She has never seen a home like this before. It feels more like a city than a house. There are so many people here, and yet it all manages to be so horrifically dull. Nura is very, very bored.

Eventually, she stomps off to go pout in the corner, only to find that someone else is already pouting there. The boy is about her age, with dark hair and dark eyes and a general aura of displeasure at having to suffer through this event. He snaps his fingers, and weak puffs of flame burst between them.

That gets her attention.

A Wielder. Like her.

She sits beside him.

---