Page 85

He began searching for Saren children.

The next memory stone began with running.

My mother was pregnant, carrying two small children through terrain that wanted to kill them. They were young, terrified, and silent because someone had told them not to make a sound, and they trusted her enough to listen.

No map.

No magic left.

The King of Yorali’s Deathmages behind her.

Orsin had discovered the truth. His daughters were not the key. The amulet required Saren blood, and he had grown desperate enough to take children from beneath the surface and test it himself.

He used deathmage magic to hide them and sent one message.

Reveal your location, and I will reveal your children.

My mother did not hesitate.

She had been raised as Queen Heir of Alarna. She knew the old passages. She knew the treaties. She knew where to look.

She found them.

She carried them home through a land filled with Deathmages, pregnant and without magic, guided only by what the children remembered of their home.

When she reached the entrance to the Saren city beneath Gyarin, she was barely standing.

Queen Toritha came herself.

She looked at my mother. At the children. At the woman who had risked everything for people who were not her own.

Then she bowed.

For centuries, others had watched the Sarens suffer and done nothing.

Ryaran of Alarna had walked into the middle of it and walked back out carrying proof that someone had finally chosen them.

The vow she made was old and specific.

The Sarens would protect Ryaran’s child in times of war, strife, or revenge.

Whatever came.

Hours later, exhausted and barely alive, my mother went into labor.

I arrived not breathing.

The Saren healers worked without panic. The Queen stayed beside her.

"There is one way," she said.

"An Arrolyn."

I did not know the word, but the memory did.

A preserved missing half of a Siren’s essence, forged and safeguarded until its bearer was strong enough to receive it. A portion was placed within me to keep me alive. The rest remained hidden until I was ready. Then came the vows.

Maridale, young and blue-gray eyed, knelt beside my mother and promised what she would one day fulfill.