His expression held no kindness at all. “You already made your plans for me very clear in your dreams. Still you know nothing, child. You would rather believe a monster’s rant than your own eyes and ears. And now you’ve put me in quite a predicament. My fellow immortals believe you to be the salvation for which they’ve waited a thousand years. Little do they know you’re nothing but a disappointment.”

With the shreds of strength she still possessed, Lucia summoned her own magic. Clenching her fists, she conjured fire, the blazes jumping high from both of her hands as she glared at the man who’d just thrown her around like a rag doll. Remembering Alexius’s most important lessons, she placed all her focus on absorbing rather than resisting Timotheus’s magic. With a mighty heave, she inhaled the air magic that held her to the wall, and as the grip on her throat began to loosen, she found that stealing this immortal’s magic was nearly as easy as smelling a fragrant rose from the Auranian palace courtyard.

Moments later, her feet were back on the ground.

She watched him warily, her fists blazing. “You assume the worst of me, and I can’t say that I blame you for that. But did you ever see me kill you in your visions?”

“I will douse your pathetic flames,” he said, ignoring her question. A small tornado of air now swirled around his hands.

“And I will steal your air and use it to smother you, right before I set you on fire.”

The barest edge of worry slid through his gaze. The realization that this immortal feared her fueled Lucia’s confidence, and her fire magic burned brighter.

“Kyan has taught you much,” he said.

“Yes. More than you realize even now. And here I thought you knew everything.”

“I’m flattered you would think so.”

“Don’t be.” Lucia focused on reining in her darkness, then doused her flames. “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

He cocked his head, the only sign of his surprise. “Then why have you come, sorceress? How is it possible that you’ve come? And where is your good friend?”

Again, Lucia’s eyes began to sting, and she was horrified to realize that she was about to start crying. She forced herself to hold back her tears, knowing that the success of this meeting depended on her staying strong.

“Kyan is dead,” she said, holding tight to her resolve. “I saw who he really was—what he really was—and I realized I was wrong. All this time, I was wrong about him. I was wrong to help him. I didn’t know he wanted to destroy the world.”

Timotheus’s expression hadn’t changed at all. “Perhaps not, but you knew he wanted to kill me. And you agreed to help him.”

“I’m not here to kill you, I swear it. You were right to warn me.” She slid her hand over the cool purple stone on her ring. “If it wasn’t for this ring, I’d be dead. It shattered the monstrous form of fire he’d taken on, and then next thing I knew . . . I—I was here.”

Lucia went on in a steady rush of words that left no space for a response, telling Timotheus everything she could about her time with Kyan. She told him of their journey into the Forbidden Mountains in east Paelsia, where they’d found the crystal monolith hidden beneath a sheath of black rock. The monolith was full of power—power Kyan wanted to use to draw Timotheus from the Sanctuary. In Kyan’s imagining, Lucia was to drain his magic, as she’d done with Melenia, making him vulnerable and easy to kill. Then Kyan and his elemental siblings would be free of their crystal orbs forever, with no elder immortal alive to return them to their prisons.

Lucia told Timotheus that she had felt sorry for Kyan, who had been used for his magic for all his existence. Who yearned to have his family by his side and the chance to truly experience life.

“But that’s not all he wanted,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper now as she reached the end of her story. “He saw weakness in all mortals, weakness that disgusted him. He wanted to burn it all away, to reduce everything and everyone to ashes, so the world could begin again as part of his quest for perfection. The other Kindred surely want the same thing.”

Finally, she looked at Timotheus, expecting to see a mask of shock on his face. But all that she saw in his eyes was weariness and understanding.

“I see,” he said.

Feeling bolstered by his gentle response, Lucia went on. “I assume the blast of magic that killed him triggered something in the monolith and that it was the monolith that opened a gateway that led me here. When I realized where I was, I knew I had to find you. You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Help you with what, Lucia?”

She felt the shameful spilling of hot tears down her cheeks. “Help me make amends for all I’ve done,” she croaked, surrendering to her sobs. “I’m sorry . . . I’m so, so sorry. I was wrong. And I . . . I nearly did help Kyan destroy everything. There would have been no world left, thanks to my stupidity. No safe place for my child to grow up.”

Timotheus was quiet, regarding Lucia with curiosity. “Your child?”

Lucia sniffed, her surprise at his reaction working to calm her sobs. “My child. Mine and Alexius’s.”

Timotheus blinked. “You’re pregnant?”

Lucia wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the borrowed robe. “You didn’t know? You’re the one who hinted that this was the cause of my fading magic. You told me in our last dream together that Eva’s power faded when she was pregnant with a half-mortal child. You must have foreseen this!”