The Rifts of Psyche by Kyle West (popular e readers txt) 📗

Lucian flew closer, passing over the city’s high stone walls, outfitted with towers that held cannons. He zoomed above the winding cobbled streets, all empty of people, though there were hundreds of carts and stalls in the plazas and alleys as if it were a market day. His trajectory seemed to be taking him ahead, toward the slopes of the mountain flanking the city’s right, where above its sprawl rose the largest palace of all. Its walls were high, shining golden with a hundred towers, all connected by bridges and halls and wings. Who needed such a place? He had no doubt that this palace was real, only he didn’t know what, or where, it was.

That was when the sky darkened. The golden light became hidden as the sun sunk on the opposite side of the mountains. As he drew even closer to the palace, all its windows were dark. All save one. A light shone in a single window of the highest and grandest tower, a beacon in the gathering gloom.

And standing in the center of that light, a shadow. And the shadow was watching him.

Panic seized him. This was a dream. He had to wake up from it, before . . . before what? What could be done to him in a dream?

Come closer, a female voice said. I’ve waited for this moment for so long. The Manifold has brought you here. The Manifold has brought the Chosen!

The Chosen? Was the voice another Oracle? But what would an Oracle be doing in this place, an obviously human-made palace?

Come, Chosen. Tell me about your long journey here. I can help you find what you’re looking for.

He didn’t know who this was, but he did know he needed to get out of here. As much as he tried to force himself awake, the dream kept its hold over him. What kind of power was this? He was trapped, pulling ever closer to the shadow in the tower, the source of the voice.

Lucian reached for his Focus but couldn’t access his magic. Was he being blocked, or was it simply impossible to stream in a dream? He drew closer to the shadow in the tower window, powerless to resist, until he was near enough to see the outlines of a feminine form.

The last thing he wanted was to see her, speak to her, or tell her about himself.

He reached for his Focus again, this time pushing with all his might to access his ether. Even if he could get a trickle of magic flowing, enough to break him free . . .

You don’t wish to fight me, Chosen. I’m far too powerful. Wouldn’t you rather have me as an ally? Why do you fear me so?

Because, Lucian responded, you won’t let me leave.

Not because I wish you harm. The stakes are too high. Though distance separates us, the Manifold desires this meeting.

Lucian didn’t understand how she – whoever she was – was speaking to him like this. A Psionic link wasn’t supposed to work unless two people had met face-to-face and had already shared a link. Which meant one of two things – he had met this person before, or she was doing something with magic that should have been impossible. Then again, perhaps dreams worked differently. After all, the Oracle of Binding had spoken to him in his dreams, and he had certainly never met her. And there was that mysterious Voice that had told him to find the Orbs, the Voice he hadn’t heard from in months. The Voice the Oracle of Binding had said was the former Immortal Emperor of Starsea. Lucian couldn’t believe that. How could such a thing be possible?

He was just meters from her now, her form still hidden by shadow. He could see the faint outline of her face, along with dark violet eyes that pulled him in with hypnotic gravity.

We were meant to meet, Chosen. The stars have spoken of it. The Manifold has wished for it. Our fates are intertwined, whether you will it or not.

At that moment, visions danced in his head. Though he could not see her face, he saw that she was a woman of surpassing beauty. He saw himself standing at her side. Together, they could rule this moon with justice and power. They would bring the disparate factions of this world together, make them into a force that would bring the League to its knees. Together, they would make the League pay for what it had done to the mages. The mages would have their revenge, would rule the billions of humanity in an unassailable aristocracy.

Was that his dream, or hers? It was hard to tell the difference. All he knew was that with him, the Chosen, and her, the Queen of Psyche, they could not fail. He, with the Orb of Binding along with the Orb of Psionics . . .

The Orb of Psionics? Where had that thought come from?

Yes, she said. I know where it is, Chosen. And it can be yours, if only you work with me and dream big things. I have seen your thoughts, and I know it is your fate to find the Aspects of the Manifold. You with the Orbs, and with me training you, it would be a simple thing to take revenge on those who sent you here. And that would only be the beginning. It is your fate to find all the Orbs, not a mere two. And it is my fate to help you in this endeavor. You are the Chosen. You are the Worlds’ only hope. Together, we can do great things. Things Xara Mallis could scarcely dream of.

For all she’d said, Lucian could only focus on one part. The Orb of Psionics is here?

Yes, she said. The Ancient Shantozar built his shrine here and hid his treasure in the Burning Sands at the close of the Age of Madness. Yes, I know of that. And more. Shantozar has spoken to me the secrets of