The Nightmare hissed. His thoughts swaddled me in darkness. Five hundred years became nothing, Jespyr shifting to a visage of Ayris, lying unmoving between the twin alders. And I understood, better than I ever had, how he had become a monster. His life had been a never-ending barter. He had given his time, his focus, his love, for magic. He’d wielded it with great authority. But it was magic that had taken his kingdom, his family, his body, his soul. It was balance, but it was not fair. And now he was full of agony, whittled down to something jagged—a tooth, a claw.
