reality is much cozier than this. I have so many treasures and trophies that it can be difficult for visitors to walk.”
Lindon glanced to the walls. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, are these illusions? Or are they copies? They feel so real.”
If they were copies, perhaps he could take one. Even the crude imitation of something that Suriel would collect might turn his situation entirely around.
“They are real, but they aren’t precisely here. These are just the projections of those treasures I’ve collected that are so significant they intrude even on depictions of the place.”
Lindon leaned forward, looking earnestly into her eyes.
If he paid close enough attention, he was certain he could draw some of those runes. They seemed to shift, as though multiple symbols occupied the same space at the same time.
“Gratitude. I need your help now more than ever. The Wandering Titan has come to Sacred Valley.”
He wasn’t sure if he would have to explain the situation further—honestly, he expected that she was more familiar with Cradle than he was—but she nodded along.
“I know. I’ve been keeping my eye on you.”
That was comforting, on one level. He had always somewhat hoped that Suriel was watching over him from above.
But to be told that in person was unexpectedly embarrassing.
He was suddenly flooded with all the memories she might have seen. Had she seen him fail over and over again, learning Soulsmithing? Several of those constructs had blown up. Had she heard the awkward words he’d stumbled over as he tried to express his feelings to Yerin?
Heavens above, had she been reading his thoughts?
He had to put a stop to that before the shame overcame him, so he bowed his head. “Gratitude. I am…relieved to have such a reliable ally.”
“I would have watched you die,” Suriel said, in the same gentle, kindly tone as before. “I expected I would, more than once. It would sadden me, and I hoped for your success, but I could not guarantee it. As I told you before, we have rules restricting the degree to which we can interfere.”
Lindon squeezed the marble in his hand. “I know,” he said, “but please accept my gratitude regardless. You have helped me…”
He had been about to say “You have helped me more than you know,” but that surely wasn’t true. And was probably insulting to someone who could read thoughts and the future.
“…more than I deserve,” he finished. “But, if you’ll forgive my curiosity, how are you able to contact me now? Is this not interference?”
Her expression grew more serious. “I spoke of dire circumstances before. We are fighting battles outside of your world, battles that shouldn’t affect you…but they might anyway. Cradle may begin experiencing minor corruption. It’s possible that those in your world may begin to encounter spaces or beings for whom the rules of reality no longer consistently apply. Strange apparitions, monsters, locations where nightmares crawl from your mind or the sacred arts no longer function.
“If you see these things, know that you will never be abandoned. My organization considers Cradle one of our core worlds, meaning that we will defend you to our last breath.”
Lindon felt a chill.
If there was something going on outside Cradle that required so much attention from not just Suriel, but the others at her level, then how much danger were they in?
Lindon remembered the projection from Ozriel’s marble, where he had seen the Abidan spread out in white-armored legions, each with abilities beyond the Monarchs. And Suriel had been among the seven—or eight; Lindon didn’t understand exactly where Ozriel fit into the structure—at the forefront of them all.
Then again, if they were dealing with threats on that scope, surely one little Dreadgod would be nothing to her.
“There are very few advantages to such a situation,” Suriel continued. “One is that I have some more leeway in how I am permitted to act. As they say: when your boat already has a hole in the bottom, no one cares if you chip the paint.”
Lindon seized on that. “I know this is shameless for me to ask, when you’ve already done so much, but if you can intervene…please, save Sacred Valley.”
Her smile returned. “I already did.”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I know you’ve descended to save us once already. It’s asking too much for you to—”
She looked nothing like his actual mother, but he felt motherly kindness radiating from her. “You are my solution. Fate has been accelerated so this day arrived sooner than it ever should have. But now it’s