My eyebrows raised. “The people there could live forever? I don’t recall reading that.”
Igon chuckled. “Well, not forever, no. I imagine that they could still be affected by sickness or violence. But, if the Goddess deemed them worthy, they would not age past a certain point.”
I frowned. When Igon learned of my lack of knowledge of our people, he insisted on teaching me as much as he could about our culture. He told me of the Gods—the Gods the Mages believed in, anyway, as they differed from the ones the humans worshipped. One of the biggest differences was the human Gods merely watched over us, while our Gods shared their power with humanity, manifesting in the varied species of magical humans that once roamed the planet. Most had been killed off, but the Mages lived on.
Igon had taken on a special role in my life, almost father-like. There had been so much he’d taught me over the last five years.
My eyes trailed to the large statue of the Goddess Ravaiana at the back of Igon’s library. “What could possibly make someone worthy of such a gift?”
Igon smiled. “You’d have to ask the Goddess yourself.”
I shifted on my feet. “Being another realm, would it have even been possible to go there?”
There was a twinkle of something in his topaz eyes, something I couldn’t place. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my sixty-one years of life, is thatanythingis possible.” He glanced back down at the map he had sprawled out on his desk. “Come over,” he motioned, and I did just that, taking a seat across from him at his desk. His hands were adorned with rings, and he placed one digit on the large parchment in front of him, its material yellowed by time.
“This is one of the main maps used by the other kingdoms in Tovagoth.” His finger drifted to an area northwest of Ames, our settlement penned in unofficially. “You see this area here?” he asked, pointing at an area on the map with a unique symbol that had been added presumably by him—a swirl with a tail trailed downward, an assortment of symbols alongside it that I couldn’t decipher. “This is where Mount Rozavar is. I know a man named Immeron. He and his family live at the top of that mountain.”
I wanted to touch the map, but I held my hands together in my lap. “I imagine that’s cold,” I muttered.
He laughed at that, showing bright, white teeth. His smile always seemed…familiar. “Quite the opposite. Well, the base of the mountain is. But on the top, it is weather-controlled through magic—the gift of the man’s wife. It’s actually pleasant up there.”
“You’ve been?”
To that, he smiled almost wearily as he glanced down at the map. “I have. This symbol here,” he said as he pointed to the swirl, “only Mages can see it, but it is on the base of the mountain. If approved, you’re teleported right up to the top.”
“That’s incredible,” I breathed, then looked at him. “Why are you showing me this?” I asked warily.
“My friends who live up there are expert enchanters, blacksmiths. They have made me many skilled pieces over the years: weapons, jewelry, and armor. Immeron even made a fully functional arm for his wife, who was born without one. Quite miraculous,” he grinned, then leaned forward. “Just in case you find yourself in need of his services.”
I raised one of my brows at him. Anytime a seer said something like that, there was more to it. This also meant there was a reason he couldn’t tell me, as it could alter the future.
When I arrived in Ames and Torrin introduced me to Igon, I felt immense comfort knowing that us listening to Kayin was the right thing to do, though he was surprised that we knew her name. He didn’t offer any ideas as to who she was or where she came from—said, as a seer, that it was information we couldn’t know.
He assured us that the Queen’s assassination was not anything he or Kayin was a part of, and I could swear his eyes welled with tears when we spoke of it. Even if the Queen was a La’Rune, even if she couldn’t stop the prejudice towards our people, she had a good heart, and everyone knew it.
I sighed in defeat and looked back at the map, memorizing the location of Mount Rozavar.
“How has your control of fire been?” he asked after a few moments of silence between us.
“Good. Great, even.” I lifted my head from the map, then huffed as I rested my back against my chair, crossing my arms. “Though, still no special ability.”
Igon’s eyes flickered, and he drummed his fingers on the table. “You are more special than you know,” he said quietly.
I frowned, and then my eyes widened. “Wait…have you…have you seen my gift?”
He smiled but didn’t respond.
“When will I get it?” I pressed.
“When the time is right. And I won’t speak on it anymore!” he chuckled.
I groaned in frustration, then placed my elbow on the desk to rest my cheek on my fist. “Is it ever torturous? Knowing so much and not being able to say anything?”
Sadness wavered in his amber eyes, and his shoulders slumped as he sighed. “More than you could fathom. It isn’t an ability I would wish on anyone.”
Igon was a secretive man—no one knew much about him, even I, who had spent so much time in his tower. He came to Ames when he was thirty-six. The people instantly warmed to him, I guess, many saying they felt like they had known him for quite some time. He never married. Never had children. I always wondered why but didn’t have it in me to ask.
I gently took my other hand and placed it on his. I couldn’t imagine the weight he must carry every day, couldn’t imagine all that he really knew.
