An abandoned boy, a grieving prince, and a reclusive sorcerer find themselves caught in a web of peril and mystery...
Domi, a young thief abandoned on the street at birth, just wants to save his dying foster mother. But first, he must survive the m...
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Domi dreamed.
Only it was not a dream. He realized that. He was dead, and the dead didn't dream. Not dead Pullati, in any case. Nobody gave people like him an afterlife in which to dream.
And yet, he dreamed. He found himself wandering with a confused frown through a shady park. Tall trees sheltered him, bursting with pale-purple blossoms. A sweetly-scented breeze, like sugar-dusted roses, wafted through the branches, and lavender petals tumbled from the trees like snow. Above, the Trellis glowed through tiny cracks between petals and leaves, and birdsong filled the air.
"Am I an eidolon?" He jumped at his own voice. Did eidolons have voices? But how was he an eidolon? Did all Lightbearers get to become one when they died? That would be nice. It eased the sting of realizing he was dead, a little. At least he would get to spend eternity in the Caeles. That was not so bad.
Though it was kind of boring.
He frowned at the peaceful trees and glanced around. Shouldn't older eidolons be there when a dead person woke in the Caeles, to explain things and offer him sage advice on how to enjoy his afterlife? That's what the wondertales always said.
But no one strolled through the shady park with him. It was just Domi, the flowers, the Trellis gleaming through the leaves, and the ceiling stretched above him.
For several long seconds when Domi opened his eyes, he stared above him in confusion.
Where was he?
He lay sprawled on his back in an unfamiliar bed, gazing up at an unfamiliar skylight. Crimson evening light, not violet daylight, streamed through the glass and onto his bed.
Instead of the trees he had just seen or the off-white canvas fabric in his new room in Aix's greenhouse cottage, a pale-gray ceiling with black trim stretched above him. But he had been in a different room, hadn't he, before the place with all the flowers? A strange, ornate room with a vaulted black ceiling, where he...
Where he...
Memory hit him like a punch to the gut, and he jerked upright in the too-plush bed with a horrified gasp. "Oh no," he moaned, gripping the velvet blanket covering him to the waist with shaking hands. "No, no, no."
He was alive. He was supposed to be dead.
"Do not worry," a soft voice said, drawing his gaze to a boy standing beside his bed.
Domi stared, thunderstruck. Himself. Eyes devour, he was staring at himself.
"We will find another way," the Princeps Worldholder said, his voice gentle.
Domi's brother sat down in a velvet chair at his bedside, at once regal and at the same time far plainer than Domi expected. The Princeps's face held a gravity Domi didn't think his own face had ever possessed, and the royal carried himself with an easy upright posture that would appear stiff and uppity on Domi.
Yet Daedalus Adurere wore no leafy crown or jeweled paenula like the wondertales always said a Princeps wore. Instead, Domi's brother sat clothed in simple but elegant clivia blues with thin bands of black and silver embroidery at the hems. His wavy hair fell to his laurel, far longer than Domi's own. And Daedalus's black locks held a gloss Domi's lacked, no calluses roughened the older twin's fingers, and his face appeared a touch more well-fleshed than Domi's own. The royal twin glowed with good health.
"There isn't another way, Basilicus," he told the other boy, dread curdling in his belly. "I have to die. There is no other way."
Why wasn't he dead? He had died, right? He should be dead. Domi felt like the Trellis would come crashing down any moment. The lattice must be crumbling away even now with each breath he drew into his lungs, with each beat of his heart. He didn't fear death anymore. Not with this new fear looming over him. The last attempt had not hurt, though he didn't understand why it failed to work.
"No, you do not have to die. You will not die. We will find another way," the Princeps insisted again, his eyes, so like Domi's own, narrowing in response to something in Domi's face. "We must find another solution, Domi. Even were I willing to let you sacrifice yourself for me—which I am not, and I despise that Cercitis convinced you something so horrific was necessary—that way past this dilemma is closed to us."
Domi bit his lip, feeling like a child before this calm, confident boy. How were they the same age? The Princeps acted like an adult, not a fifteen-year-old, no matter how young his face appeared. "What do you mean?"
Daedalus Adurere sighed. "We both died today." Domi gaped, horror driving the breath from his lungs, and his twin's lip quirked in a tiny, wry smile. "Briefly. When you died, your prometus delivered an electric shock to restart your heart. Mine followed suit, and the shock stopped my heart. A lifeholder aided me and brought me back, and it appears your body responded in kind. Thus, here we both are, alive and well once more."
As Daedalus spoke, the Princeps stared at Domi with something like wonder, and the younger twin didn't blame the royal. Domi felt like he peered into a mirror, only a magic mirror that showed a version of himself in another life. The Eternal Radiance gave him a glimpse into a different world, one far more alien than any he had ever before known, let alone imagined. Yet the eerie other world didn't go away as he and his twin stared at each other. Domi shivered at the weirdness of it all.
"So," his brother went on, his voice as dry as Valens's, "I would ask you not to try to solve this by harming yourself." He sobered again, the wry humor fading into his regal gravity like salt into water. "And I will not allow anyone to hurt you. We will find another way, Brother, I promise."
Worldwide, the Rain itself fell morn and eve in obedience to this boy's will. Domi stared at his royal brother and hoped the Princeps's will had power over this matter as well. The fate of every person on the planet depended on it.
