Lindell went inside the museum, now worrying even more about what Irwin would do. Bazza wasn’t in his office when Lindell looked in. The black book that was the ledger sat on the desk. Lindell looked through the ledger, then walked around the lower floor of the museum, seeing what Bazza had written for those objects. The entries were far less detailed than for the artifacts on the second floor. By the time Lindell finished looking through the first floor, the sun was setting. He set the ledger back on Bazza’s desk, leaving the office just as Bazza returned to the museum, looking thoroughly exhausted.

  “Were you meeting with the court?” Lindell asked.

  Bazza nodded slowly. “It didn’t go well.” He walked past, into his office. “Let’s talk.” He sat behind his desk and Lindell sat across from him. “Do you remember how we met?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach the weariness in his eyes.

  Lindell thought of back then. “We met two years ago.” He wasn’t sure how they had become friends. It just sort of happened. “This house had been closed up since my parents…” Since they were murdered.

  Bazza nodded slowly. “The journals we found here said your parents had always wanted to start a museum with the artifacts they found on their travels. I said ‘Why don’t we do it?’ Then we did.” He was watching Lindell closely. “Did you want to?”

  Lindell looked away. “I’m not sure anymore…” The words came out quiet.

  Bazza sighed. A long, weary sigh. “My grandfather always wanted to open a museum, but Ivra in the time of the tyrant wasn’t a place to live, let alone open a museum.” His right hand clenched into a fist where it rested on the desk. “I believe we can protect these artifacts. They shouldn’t be destroyed just because they could be dangerous.”

  “You knew which ones had magic,” Lindell said. There was no longer any question about it. That was the only way Bazza could have known which artifacts to put upstairs and which to keep in their own rooms.

  Bazza’s hand relaxed again. “I’m a water witch. As a witch, I can see which artifacts have magic.” He looked at Lindell with terrible sadness in his eyes. “The nobles and the court are using my Ivran heritage against me. Oenum doesn’t trust Ivrans, not since what happened with Onora, the namesake of my grandfather’s group. The group my father was a part of.”

  “The Flame of Ivra,” Lindell said.

  Bazza nodded. “That’s what they called Onora. She was a powerful fire witch. She led the rebellion, and when she became queen, she came after Oenum, blaming them for all the bad things that had happened in Ivra since the end of the war between our countries.” He sighed. “I heard the remains of the group were wiped out on order of the new king and queen.” He stared at Lindell. “I was not involved with the group.” He shook his head. “Perhaps my efforts have been misguided. Clearly, we cannot keep the artifacts safe, but it…” He looked away. “It would break my heart for Phoenix to destroy the artifacts.”

  Lindell didn’t know what to do. He knew this was all hard for Bazza to tell him, or he would have told him sooner.

  “I don’t think we can prevent that,” Lindell said as gently as he could.

  Bazza’s shoulders slumped. “I know.” He looked up from the wood of his desk, with tears in his eyes that didn’t fall. “All we can do is let the museum close. I see that now.”

  Lindell tried not to look relieved. “I’m sorry, Bazza. Really, I am.”

  “I know,” Bazza said, then he took a deep breath. “Maybe it will be easier if I let go of this place now, before the court officially destroys it.” He stood. “I’ll see you in the morning? I’m sure there’s a lot the court will have us do when they announce their final decision.”

  “I’ll be here,” Lindell said.

  Bazza left, but Lindell stayed there for a moment. He believed even less now that Bazza was out to destroy Oenum. He wished there was something he could do to make all of this easier for his friend, but he couldn’t think of anything. Lindell left the museum, locking up behind him before he set off toward home.

  Ricliri stirred and Lindell stopped, somewhere in the alleyways of the upper district.

  “Maybe things will be better now that Bazza is letting go of the museum,” Ricliri said.

  “I hope so,” Lindell thought. He closed his eyes, breathing in the crisp night air.

  Hands grabbed him by the shoulders from behind, forcing him to the ground. Someone put a blindfold on him and tied his hands behind him. Lindell struggled against whoever it was, but more hands grabbed him. How many were there, and who were they? He felt something against his mouth, then gagged on a warm liquid.

  A hand covered his mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow. Everything felt distant, then he felt nothing at all. When Lindell next opened his eyes, the blindfold and the rope were gone. He was lying on a narrow bed with the most uncomfortable mattress he had ever laid on. The ground would have been more comfortable. Everything spun and blurred, even when he didn’t move. The ceiling had a steep slant. A little light came through the slats of a round window further along the wall, but it was the dim light of dawn. He was in an attic room. The only furniture was the bed.

  A moan escaped him at the horrible pressure inside of him. Ricliri was awake, but Lindell could feel his pain. Something was very wrong. Their magic felt like a lake about to break through a dam. He closed his eyes tightly, then heard a door open and opened his eyes quickly. He wanted to face whoever had drugged and taken him with his eyes open. Irwin stood close to the bed, frowning at Lindell.

  “Where am I?” Lindell asked. It was hard to get the words out. Hard to focus.

  “At my house,” Irwin said, frowning further. “Hector wouldn’t have agreed to have you subdued, even though it is necessary. For now, he doesn’t know, but I believe he will see reason eventually.”

  The boiling lake of magic inside of him broke through the dam. The slanted ceiling made alarming creaking noises, cracks spreading along it and water trickling through. Irwin stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, then reached out and caught a drop of water.

  “It’s not wet,” Irwin said. “Another one of your illusions.” He glowered at Lindell. “You were already shameful. At least you had the decency to hide your magic until now.” He said magic like it was a horribly dirty word.

  Darkness was closing in again. Ricliri’s presence was getting fainter, but he wasn’t going to sleep. He was dying. The darkness pulled Lindell in, his magic a painful force inside of him. When he opened his eyes again, it was because someone had set him on fire. At least, that’s what it felt like. Irwin was there again, or maybe he had never left. He was holding a cup, and Lindell tasted that foul liquid again, almost choking on it. Irwin continued to glower down at him, not saying anything this time. Ricliri screamed. It seemed louder than it should for only being in his head, then he realized he was screaming too.

  “Clearly the herbs aren’t working,” Irwin said. “Perhaps you would be better off if I handed you over to the witch hunters.”

  In that moment, Lindell hated Irwin. He had never liked the man, had never really hated someone, but Irwin had earned it. The attic room faded away again. Lindell woke up standing in the entry hall of the museum. Everything was out of focus and blurry, other than something standing in front of him.

  The creature was wearing clothes that were hardly more than rags and was just a little shorter than Lindell. He was covered in long, dark brown fur and had sharp nails. His nose was catlike, he had sharp teeth, and fuzzy, bear like ears. His long, fluffy tail was still. He stared at Lindell with big, round eyes that were all dark brown iris and black pupil with no visible whites. There was a deep sadness in those eyes.

  “Ricliri?” Lindell asked. He could feel the spirit’s presence, getting fainter by the moment.

  “I can’t hold on much longer,” Ricliri said. His voice sounded far away, despite him being right there. “My magic is a part of you and will remain, but it may be hard to control.” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  The museum and Ricliri vanished. Lindell felt the spirit’s presence die out inside of him. He heard a voice in the distance, but it wasn’t Irwin. It was a familiar voice, calling his name.

  -- --

  “Lindell, wake up,” Hector said gently.

  He didn’t want to wake up, but he couldn’t stop it. Lindell opened his eyes, feeling raw inside and exhausted. He was lying in a much nicer bed that even had a blanket. It smelled slightly dusty. Hector sat in a chair beside the bed. A fire crackled in the hearth on the other side of the room. The drapes covering the window were open a crack, letting in moonlight.

  “Where am I?” Lindell asked. The hazy feeling of before had gone, but that only made it easier to think about what had happened.

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  “You’re at my house,” Hector said. “Wallace is keeping watch outside, in case Irwin’s supporters try anything. Fortunately, Irwin has fewer allies than he seemed to. The other nobles were afraid of him. Kath questioned one of them.” He smiled briefly. “He was more afraid of her than of Irwin and told her everything. We gathered a few nobles, and Kath of course, then we went to Irwin’s house.”

  “Where is he?” Lindell asked, fear clenching at him.

  “In the dungeon,” Hector said. “The…” He frowned hard. “The subdued nobles in other houses will be freed as well. Irwin was using some sort of herb to keep them mostly unconscious.”

  For now, his magic was calm. It still felt massive, but calm.

  “The effects of whatever Irwin gave you seem to have worn off,” Hector said. His brows furrowed. “Vedrix said you became the host of a spirit, but the spirit is gone. The magic is still there. Vedrix said it will change you if he doesn’t remove it. He would have to make you his priest to remove the magic.”

  Lindell shook his head before his brother had entirely finished. “I don’t want the magic removed.” It was all that was left of Ricliri. He wasn’t going to get rid of it.

  Hector smiled slightly. “Vedrix and I thought you would say that.” The smile vanished. “I’m sorry. You must have cared about the spirit to become its host.”

  “He would have died if I hadn’t,” Lindell said. “I wasn’t going to let that happen if I could stop it.”

  Silence settled between them.

  “Do you know who Vedrix is?” Lindell asked.

  Hector nodded. “The God of Magic.”

  Sleep was pulling Lindell back in. He closed his eyes.

  He woke up again when his magic flooded through him. He cried out, trying to pull away from it, but he couldn’t pull away from something that was inside of him. Lindell landed on the floor with a thud, having fallen off the bed. The magic was all he could feel, a torrent about to wash him away, then it settled down again. Lindell opened his eyes. Hector was kneeling beside him, worry in his eyes. Lindell tried to sit up, but he was exhausted from the magic and everything that had happened before.

  He felt his tail move. It was an odd feeling, a part of him, but not one he was used to. His ears were more flexible too. At least he was a little warmer now, with dark brown fur all over him. Hector helped Lindell back into the bed, then returned to his chair on the other side. Hector still looked worried, but only worried.

  “You’re not horrified by this?” Lindell asked quietly.

  “I know it was your choice,” Hector said. “And you don’t appear surprised by it.”

  Lindell closed his eyes again. He had known what the magic would do to him because he had seen Ricliri’s true form. That was his form too now. Lindell drifted back into sleep with the thought that Bazza wasn’t going to accept this had been his choice. He woke up to Bazza and Hector arguing. The drapes were open further now, letting in morning light. Hector and Bazza stood near the door. The fire in the hearth had gone out.

  “You let him do this!” Bazza’s face was bright red.

  Hector growled. Actually growled. Bazza looked surprised too.

  “He decided for himself,” Hector said through gritted teeth. “He’s allowed to do that. He’s not a tool for you to use to gather those cursed artifacts. The museum will be shut down, Phoenix will deal with the artifacts, and if it’s the last thing I do, I will make sure you never find Rimlek’s Embers.”

  Bazza glared at Hector, a strange coldness in his eyes. “I will find a way to undo what that magic did to him.” He left the room.

  Hector sighed loudly, then turned away from the doorway and saw Lindell was awake. Hector sat in the chair by the bed, looking exhausted. Had he been awake all night?

  “It’s time I tell you what I found,” Hector said. “My theory.” He took his glasses off and cleaned them for a long while, likely gathering his thoughts. He slid his glasses back on. “I believe our parents knew where Rimlek’s Embers were. Their journals imply this, as well as that they would guard the secret. Bazza’s father, Cormac Hardy, killed them. I’m certain of it.”

  Lindell didn’t know what to say.

  “Cormac Hardy was a member of the Flame of Ivra,” Hector said. “He was likely after the embers and planned to use them against Oenum.” He hesitated. “I think Bazza was part of the Flame of Ivra and is also after the embers. He may have thought you would know where to find them. I know you don’t want to believe that about Bazza, but please consider it.”

  Lindell still didn’t know what to say, what to think.

  “Ask Bazza what happened in Luna a year ago, at the start of the year,” Hector said.

  “Weren’t you traveling in Luna at the time?” Lindell asked. Bazza had been visiting family in Ivra then. The two countries shared a continent across the sea from Oenum.

  “I was,” Hector said. He hesitated.

  “Are you alright?” Lindell asked.

  “Mostly,” Hector said. “There is more, but…” He looked away, but Lindell was certain of what he saw this time. Hector’s eyes changed, turning light brown, the pupil a feline slit. It happened only briefly, but it had definitely happened. “I don’t think now is the time to explain.” He stood. “You should rest.” He left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  Lindell stared at the ceiling, not liking where his thoughts were going. And what had happened to Hector in Luna? Eventually he drifted back into sleep. The next morning, he was ready to be doing something. Hector reluctantly agreed. Lindell went to the museum, packing away the artifacts that were to be taken to Phoenix. Bazza hadn’t wanted to watch the museum being dismantled, so he wasn’t there. Which meant Lindell couldn’t ask him about Luna.

  Cory came to help, and to get started on figuring out which artifacts were dangerous. The two of them worked in silence for a while. They had started upstairs, packing away the most dangerous artifacts first. Eireen came by later in the morning to help. Around midday, they took a break from packing things away. Lindell and Eireen were left alone in a now empty room upstairs.

  “I’ll have to leave again when the museum is dealt with. Nevyn has told Vedrix about the seed, so Phoenix will hand it over to us when they sort through the artifacts that have magic,” Eireen said, frowning. “I’m a terrible priest.”

  “How are you terrible?” Lindell asked, taking her hands in his.

  Eireen sighed. “I’m conflicted. I want to be with the forest and with Iterna, but I also want to be with you.”

  Lindell’s tail stopped moving. He was still getting used to the usually involuntary movements. “I want to be with you too…” He hesitated. “I’m not how I was.”

  Eireen pulled her hands free of his and put a finger to his lips. “It’s not your appearance I fell in love with.” She smiled. “Even if I must leave Shale with Nevyn, I promise I will return and see you again.”

  They shared a kiss, then got back to work. Cory had already gone back to packing away artifacts. Despite the moment with Eireen, Lindell’s heart was still heavy. He was still thinking of all Hector had said, and he could see the magic in each of the artifacts. It was even clearer than before.

  “So many of these are dangerous,” Lindell said.

  “You can’t have known,” Cory said. “You couldn’t see magic before.”

  Bazza had known. Had he truly thought they could keep Shale safe from so many magical objects? Did Bazza just get close to him to find the embers? Lindell didn’t want to believe it, but he didn’t know what to believe anymore. Bazza had known the artifacts were dangerous. Lindell trusted his brother, but he didn’t want to believe this.

  “What’s wrong?” Eireen asked quietly as they carefully packed away a set of plates. Magical plates, but there was no knowing what kind of magic it was, or what it could do. “I know it’s not just saying goodbye to the museum.”

  Lindell hesitated. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.” His magic felt wild, and he didn’t know how to calm it down. Water dripped from the ceiling, but there was nothing that could be leaking, and it wasn’t raining outside. The water wasn’t wet. “Sorry…” He closed his eyes, trying to make it stop.

  “Fearing it will only make it worse,” Cory said.

  Lindell opened his eyes. The illusory water had gone. He could tell by Cory’s expression that he knew what he’d said from experience.

  “Have you always known you were a soul mage, Cory?” Eireen asked.

  Cory tensed a little. “At first, my family and I couldn’t figure out what kind of magic I had. I had already become corrupt when Wallace told me what I was.” He sighed. “Wallace has been telling me I fear my magic too much, that it won’t be a disaster if I’m away from Vedrix.”

  “You don’t believe him?” Eireen asked.

  Cory smiled a little. “I’d like to, but I know how strong my magic is.” The smile vanished. “It’s like my grandfather’s magic, but more dangerous since it’s soul magic. Still, Wallace is probably right. I can’t stay close to Vedrix forever.” He looked at Lindell. “Maybe if you practice your illusions and get used to your magic, it will help. Maybe it will feel more like something that’s a part of you.”

  Lindell thought he might be right. “Thank you, Cory.”

  The three of them worked until sunset, then headed home for the night. Eireen was still staying with Lindell. Lindell lay awake that night, practicing illusions. His magic was hard to control. He either made too many illusions, couldn’t control them, or they sputtered out as soon as he made them. He pushed back his frustration. This was going to take time. If he didn’t learn to control his magic, he would use it by accident. But Cory had been right, using his magic on purpose like this made it feel less frightening, more something that was a part of him.