I fell to a knee, clutching the wound in my stomach and gasping for breath. Pain coursed through my body, and with the Vanator’s death, the adrenaline holding it at bay stopped flowing. I groaned the force of it hit me like a hammer, pressing the wound to stop the bleeding as best as I could.

“You might want to try healing yourself,” Sara suggested. “You have the raju for it, now, although it’ll bring you pretty low in your solar raju. It’ll at least stop the bleeding, though.”

“Ionat!” a voice called out, disturbing my internal dialogue. I looked toward the back of the camp. Viora stood, a collar around her neck chaining her to a pole driven in the ground. Her face was pale, and bruises darkened her right cheek and left eye, but she seemed otherwise unharmed.

“Or, I could just have her do it,” I thought back at Sara, forcing myself to my feet and tottering over to the woman.

“Are you okay?” I asked her as I neared.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes bright. “Please, get this collar off of me, Ionat.”

“Can you heal me, first?” I asked. “Sorry, but…” I gestured to my midsection, where blood oozed from the long slash across my stomach, but she shook her head.

“Not until you free me,” she said. “This collar is made of golost. It drains the solar raju around me as fast as I can try to gather it.” She looked up at the sky. “Which isn’t very fast right now, I’m afraid.”

I examined the collar carefully. The two-inch-wide restraint hinged in the front and connected in the back, fastened with a heavy padlock. A chain ran from the padlock down to a spike driven into the post, holding it firmly.

“The Vanator has the key,” the Sorvaraji added. “I don’t know where, though.”

I looked back at the man’s cooling corpse, dreading the walk over to him and back again – assuming he even carried the key on him. If he’d stashed it somewhere, I could bleed out before I found it.

“Yeah, screw that,” I muttered, pulling out the Imperial dagger and slipping it into the links of the padlock. I cast my Twilight Strike spell and twisted the blade. The lock resisted for a moment, but the dagger sheared through it with a loud crack, and I slipped the thing off and unbound the collar. That I held on to; I could see a real use for a collar that robbed a Sorvaraji of their magic.

“Thank you,” Viora gasped, rubbing her throat. I winced as I saw that the skin beneath the collar looked burned and reddened; I wondered if that was a result of Viora trying to cast spells while imprisoned or simply what the collar did to trapped rajis. If it were the latter, I’d need to be judicious about using the thing.

She placed her hand on my stomach, and heat welled through me as the magic sealed my wound shut. A moment later, I reached out and grabbed her as she nearly collapsed, her face even whiter than it had been.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “That’s – that’s all the magic I have right now. The Altar – the Vanator…” Her body shook as she devolved into silent sobs, and I pulled her close. She clung to me desperately, weeping into my bloodstained shirt, and I knew it wasn’t just over the shattered altar. She wept for Borava, for all the people lost there – and for the idiocy of it all.

“Sorvaraji!” Renica called out as she ran up the hill toward us, Vikarik limping at her heels. “You’re safe!”

The woman straightened and wiped her eyes, sniffing. “Yes, Renica, I’m safe,” she said, forcing a smile. She glanced up at us. “The village…did anyone? Vasily?” I shook my head, and tears flowed from her eyes as she dropped to her knees, her face blank.

Renica knelt down and hugged the woman, and I watched for a moment as the two clung fiercely to one another. I almost felt like an intruder in their moment. I certainly regretted what had happened in Borava, but it wasn’t my home. Those people weren’t my family. I’d said goodbye to my family long ago, and while the realization that I’d probably never see them again still ached a bit, it didn’t hurt the way I knew the two women hurt.

A bit uncomfortable, I went over to the body of the Vanator and flipped him onto his back. His face gleamed wetly in the moonlight, most of the skin burned away to reveal dull, bloody bone. Broken teeth showed through the ruin of one cheek, and one eye socket gaped emptily. The other eye rested shut, looking surprisingly peaceful, but nothing could detract from the ruin that was his face.

I looked away and saw a leather thong around the back of his neck that seemed to run down beneath his armor. I ran my hands along the sides, finding some fastenings and laboriously undoing them. The leather straps and metal clasps locked tightly in place, but I pried them loose eventually and slipped the chest piece off. Beneath, the man wore a layer of heavy padding, which I supposed I’d probably want if I was covered with solid steel, too. A large, bulbous leather pouch lay atop the padding, and I slipped it over the man’s head after removing his helmet, then glanced inside.

The first thing I took out was a golden medallion, one that looked similar to the one I’d taken from the Lomoraji. This one, though, had a sunburst with a sword across it rather than quills, and the edge was milled instead of smooth. I slipped it back into the pouch, then took out a stone the size of my fist. The clear stone glowed with an inner fire, and its facets sparkled and gleamed as I shifted it around. It felt warm in my hands, and as I held it, I felt that warmth soaking down my arm and flooding my body.

“That’s probably the heart of the Altar of the Sun,” Sara suggested. “It looks like when the Vanator smashed the altar, he kept the core for some reason.”

“It’s probably not easy to replace,” I guessed. “Maybe someone else could use it to make a new altar – which he might not have wanted them to be able to do.”

The pouch also held a simple iron key that I assumed was for Viora’s collar, several gold coins, three two-finger-wide and six-inch-long gold bars, and a slip of paper that only had a few words on it in a language I couldn’t read. I stared at it, but it didn’t resolve itself.

“Sorry, John, I can’t make much out of this. I need a longer sample.”

I nodded and slipped the paper back into the pouch before moving to the man’s belt, which held only a scabbard for his sword and a sheath for his knife. I went ahead and unbuckled that; I didn’t know how to use a sword, but even so, it was probably valuable. The blade itself was heavy, a bit longer than I’d been expecting and coming to a sharp point at the end. Its hilt extended a solid foot, long enough that it could be used with two hands, but the weapon felt light enough that I could swing it with one if I wanted. Ornate scrolling decorated the blade, the patterns looking particularly dull in the moonlight, and I noticed the same patterns etched on the underside of the man’s armor.

“I think those are the same material as that collar,” Sara observed. “If that golost metal absorbs magic, that would explain why none of your spells could hurt him. The armor probably drained them off the moment your weapons touched him.”

“My fancy dagger got through, though,” I noted. “Any idea why?”

“It might be because it’s designed to use twilight magic. Maybe the combined energies can’t be absorbed so easily. Or maybe it just boosted them to the point that the armor couldn’t absorb them. If you keep the armor, we can experiment and see later.”

I nodded, wondering how we would transport all that, until I saw the wagon parked to the side of the encampment with two extremely large, deerlike cerbaks attached to it. That would certainly make things easier.

I heard the footsteps of one of the women behind me. “What did you find, Ionat?” Viora spoke a moment later. I turned to face the woman; her eyes were red and puffy, her face streaked with tears, and her hair in disarray, but she didn’t seem to care. I simply reached into the pouch and withdrew the diamond, holding it up before her and letting it sparkle in the moonlight. She gasped, and her hands flew to her mouth.

“The altar’s heart,” she said disbelievingly. “He preserved it!” She reached out and took it gently from my hands, cradling it in her palms. As she held it, the bruising in her face faded, and the color returned to her cheeks. She looked up at me, her eyes grateful. “Thank you, Ionat.”

“Glad to help,” I gave her a brief smile before returning to my examination. She sank down beside me with a sigh, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Ionat – I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, her voice soft. I wanted to ask what she was sorry for, but I was pretty sure I knew, so I just shrugged.

“What’s done is done,” I said. “Besides, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

She looked around at the camp. “No? How many soldiers did you leave alive in the village?”

“None,” I admitted.

“And you killed the ones up here – and a Vanator in a one-on-one battle, something I’ve never heard of. At least, not since the fall of the Empire.” She shook her head. “But that’s not the reason I’m sorry.”

She moved to face me, and I glanced up at her, not really meeting her eyes. “I’m sure you know that there’s magic in the Sun’s Peace,” she said. “However, there’s also power involved in revoking it. When the Sun’s Peace is taken from someone, the power of the Sun drives them from that place and forbids them from returning to it. It makes the person uncomfortable to remain, and the discomfort can become painful over time.

“Even more, it severs any connections you might have had to that place,” she sighed. “Family ties, the bonds between lovers, even just casual friendship – all of those are broken when the Sun’s Peace is taken from you.” She smiled sadly. “I’m sure that you don’t really like me right now – or you just don’t feel anything for me, one way or another. Is that right?”

I shrugged, but I didn’t keep the truth from my face. She was right; I didn’t honestly care that much about her. I mean, I wanted to help her because she needed help, but that was part of the person I was trying to become. I didn’t feel anything special toward the woman herself.

“Yes,” she sighed, then glanced at Renica. “If Renica hadn’t been wise enough to preserve the Moon’s Truce with you, you might have actually become hostile – it’s happened when people have the Sun’s Peace taken from them.” She looked back at me.

“The point is, it was wrong to do it. Vasily was afraid, but those were old fears, ones he’d carried for a long, long time. They weren’t about you, but he heaped them on you, and we all paid the price for it.”

I shook my head. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” I repeated, rising to my feet. “We won this because I drove the hungering against them.”

She rose with me. “And if you’d remained part of the village, we wouldn’t have spent the past two nights without sleep, fighting the hungering. We wouldn’t have lost another villager to them, and Vasily wouldn’t have gotten wounded trying to save him. We would have been fresh and rested when the soldiers came – and maybe things would have been different. Had you and Vasily worked together, the Vanator would have fallen quickly…” She looked away and took a deep breath.

“The point is, I knew what he asked me to do was wrong. It was his right to demand it, but it was mine to refuse it – but I was too afraid of what might happen if I didn’t.” She sighed. “If I’d refused, it would have driven a wedge between us, and that would have been bad for the village. I considered banishing you to be the lesser of evils, and I was wrong, just as Vasily was.”

She touched my arm again, gently. “I’m asking for your forgiveness, for being a foolish old woman and heeding my head instead of my heart.”

I thought about her words and took a deep breath. “Part of me wants to just say, ‘Sure, I forgive you’,” I said slowly. “And I want to forgive you, but...” I forced myself to meet her gaze. As she said, it was uncomfortable, like staring too close to the sun, but I steeled myself against the desire to look away and held her eyes with mine. “I don’t think you’d be happy with a comforting lie, and I honestly don’t know if I do or not.”

She bit her lip but nodded. “That’s fair enough,” she said softly. “And you’re right; I’d rather have honesty than a comforting lie.”

“You were okay lying to me,” Renica spoke a little bitterly, interrupting their conversation. I looked over to see her crouched beside Vikarik. The cairnik had long scratches along her side, and she held one leg up as if it were injured. Renica’s face was just as tearstained as Viora’s, but her eyes held no grief, only accusation as she looked at the Sorvaraji.

“Lying to you?” Viora asked, her voice puzzled. “What are you talking about, Renica?”

“My talent for beast magic,” the girl replied, and I saw the wince flash across Viora’s face. Renica must have seen it, too, because the hunter’s expression grew angry. “I knew it! You did know! And you never told me!”

Viora sighed. “Yes, I knew, Renica,” she admitted. “I’ve known since you were a child.” She shook her head. “Do you remember how you used to go into the forest alone when you weren’t even as tell as Vikarik? How when you were a bit older, you would bring me wounded animals to heal?” Renica nodded.

“That was when I guessed, child. The beasts of the forest should have devoured you, but you always came back with no more than scratches from climbing the trees. The animals you brought me should have lashed out at you in pain and terror, but they were always perfectly docile.” She shook her head.

“That suggested that you had beast magic, so I tested you to be sure – and found out that not only did you naturally use beast magic, but that it’s incredibly strong.”

The hunter blinked her eyes rapidly, looking down at the ground. “So, it’s true,” she whispered. “I’m a lomoraji.”

Viora surprised me by laughing aloud at that. “Of course, you aren’t,” she said, shaking her head. “No more than – than Serghei was a Vanator.”

“Serghei?” Renica repeated, and the Sorvaraji nodded.

“Vasily and I sensed that in him, as well. The Vanatori are all born with some potential for magic and great skill with weapons, but they give it up in exchange for their particular skills and powers. Serghei had a minor talent for solar magic and a large talent for weapons – which is why I never trained him. Had a Vanator ever come to the village and found him there, they would have taken him to become one of them, whether he wanted to or not.”

Viora went and knelt beside Renica. “Having potential didn’t make Serghei a Vanator, though, and having the talent for lunar magic doesn’t make you a lomoraji, dear. You have to choose to become one.”

“But…” She looked at me. “Ionat said he can see that I’m using beast magic, Sorvaraji. If I’m using it, doesn’t that mean I’m a lomoraji? That I’m going to go insane?”

Viora shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.” She took a deep breath. “What I’m about to tell you both would be considered heresy, and had the Vanator not stripped me of my status – and my oaths – I wouldn’t be able to say it. Lunar magic isn’t evil – and almost everyone uses it.”

I simply nodded, but Renica’s eyes went wide. “What? But – people can’t use lunar magic! It’s forbidden!”

“It’s forbidden to seek instruction in lunar magic,” Viora corrected. “For a very good reason: lunar magic is imbalanced. Using a small amount is fine, but when you start channeling large amounts of it to cast spells, your spell forms become unstable. Some of that energy backlashes into you, and the damage to your mind builds up until…” She shook her head.

“You told me that no one knows why lomoraji go insane,” I pointed out flatly.

“I lied. I told Vasily the same thing.” She sighed. “You see, anyone with the potential to use solar magic also has some potential to use lunar magic, Ionat, and the reverse is also true. Renica has the potential to use solar magic…” Renica looked excited, but Viora held up a hand. “But to do so, you’d have to give up all uses of beast magic, child. Your bond with Vikarik. That feeling you get when you know where the animals you’re hunting can be found. That sense of belonging that you have in the forest.

“All of those are beast magic, and no one can use both solar and lunar magic. The two magics are incompatible; even attempting to use both will cause your spells to collapse and likely kill you instantly.” She reached out and touched the hunter fondly. “That’s why I ended your training. I knew how much your beast magic is a part of you, even if you didn’t, and I couldn’t take all that away from you.”

“Are you going to tell her that she’s wrong, John?” Sara asked silently.

“Not without knowing what the consequences might be, no. Plus, she might be right, and I might have just gotten lucky so far.”

“No, it’s not luck. I can see your spell forms, and they’re remarkably stable. That’s why your spells collapsing against the Vanator only mildly inconvenienced you instead of rendering you unconscious. Your spells are so balanced, there’s not much power left to leak back into you when they fail.”

I tucked that information away for later inspection, but Viora was still speaking.

“The thing is, most people use small amounts of lunar magic all the time,” she sighed. “People use beast magic to inspire others or calm them down. Herbalists and healers use touches of blood magic without ever realizing it, and anyone who invokes the Moon’s Truce touches death magic. The moons are part of our world, and we use their powers naturally, just as we do the Sun’s.”

“Then why do we only hear how evil the moons are?” Renica protested.

“Because history is written by the victors,” I murmured quietly, and Viora nodded.

“Exactly. When the Empire fell, the Five Kingdoms all embraced the worship of the Sun. The practice of lunar magic was outlawed, and every Vanator, Sorvaraji, Razvaraji, and Pretmaraji swears an oath on the Sun to exterminate any deliberate practitioners of lunar magic.” She made a face. “The Vanatori take that to the extreme. They kill anyone with a talent for lunar magic – or force them to become a Vanator or Sorvaraji, which burns the lunar magic out of them.

“That’s how I became a Sorvaraji, in fact; a passing Vanator discovered that I had a large talent for blood magic and gave my parents the choice of seeing me executed or allowing me to go to the Great Cathedral in Origija and train to become a Sorvaraji. They chose the latter, and…” She raised her hands helplessly out to the sides.

“So, you told me that to convince me not to dabble with lunar magic?” I guessed, and she nodded affirmatively.

“Yes. You have a remarkable talent for magic – I’ve never heard of someone able to intuit spells the way you seem to – and if you’d tried experimenting with lunar magic, you might have seriously hurt yourself. Using it in small ways is natural; drawing on it exclusively to power spells is dangerous.” She made a face. “I’ve tried teaching acolytes the truth, but they all seem to think that they’ll be the ones to correctly balance the spells and end up either injured – or at the point of a Vanator’s sword. So, I tell them that no one knows why, and instead of playing with the magic, they try to learn more about lunar magic, hoping to be the person to discover why it won’t work. By the time they finally do, they’re too far down the path of solar magic to return, and there’s no danger.”

“That seems reasonable,” I admitted with a sigh.

“The way you’re feeling right now is why I never told you about your talent, Renica,” the priestess went on. “I knew you’d feel guilty, as if you’re doing something wrong – but you aren’t. You’re using beast magic naturally, the way it’s meant to be used. Don’t experiment with it or try to use it deliberately, and you’ll be perfectly safe.” She reached over and gave the hunter a gentle hug that Renica returned after a brief hesitation, then let her go and looked at the injured cairnik.

“What happened to her?” the older woman asked.

“The hungering,” Renica replied. “Once Ionat and I separated, they started to come for us. Not very many, but enough that she got a bit beat up dealing with them.”

Viora nodded and touched the cairnik, whose wounds glowed orange for a moment before healing over. “There. She should be fine, now.”

“I thought you said you were out of magic,” I pointed out suspiciously.

“I was. The altar’s heart, though, still has some left in it. I drew on that. I’ll let it refill a bit tomorrow.”

“Speaking of tomorrow,” I said, “what are the two of you going to do, now?”

“I’m coming with you, Ionat,” Renica said firmly. She looked at Viora. “We can escort you to Nadmeva or Panja first, though, Sorvaraji.”

Viora shook her head. “I’m no longer a Sorvaraji, child. The Vanator stripped me of that. I’m just Viora, now.”

“You can still use magic, though.”

“Using solar magic isn’t what makes one a Sorvaraji,” Viora smiled. “You gain the title by making an oath before the Sun to do no harm except in self-defense, to aid all in need with your powers, to serve the Sun and the Church with equal vigor, to root out deliberate practitioners of lunar magic…” She looked at the dagger at my side. “And to report any Imperial holdouts immediately.”

She met my eyes and smiled. “However, the Vanator stripped me of my status, which frees me from those oaths. Now, I’m simply a rogue raji. I wouldn’t be welcome in an Altar of the Sun or a cathedral, I’m afraid.”

“Can’t you just renew the oaths?” I asked.

She nodded. “Only in the Great Cathedral of Mihabag, though. Only the High Pretmaraji there has the authority to restore my status.”

“That’s where Vasily said the Imperial Archives were, John,” Sara reminded me.

“Well, then, Viora, you’re in luck, because we just happen to be heading to Mihabag ourselves,” I grinned at her. “You’re welcome to tag along if you’d like.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” the woman sighed. “So, yes, I’ll certainly accompany you.” She looked at me seriously. “Besides, I promised to teach you what I could about magic – and I intend to keep that promise, Ionat. You’ve got too much talent to let it go to waste.”

“I look forward to it, Viora,” I grinned.

So do I,” Sara agreed. “I can’t wait to see how you balance out whatever spells she’s teaching you – and how you turn them into twilight magic.”