Something I hadn’t felt in over a hundred years: the will of a god sword tugging at my soul. Nimerelle was here with me. She was propped up against the wall ten feet away, where I’d left her after the drills I’d run a few hours back. The pull at my chest wasn’t from her. She had no access to her magic here, just as I didn’t. This was a dead place. Not even the faintest trace of living magic flowed here, which meant I couldn’t draw it to me. Neither could the sword. But still, I felt . . .
