He could see River felt that same grief. Her mouth was a line of grim determination. Her eyes brimmed with angry tears.

River nodded. Then she slipped the collar ever so slightly to the left, gave it a smart tug, and broke it free.

The woman’s words reverberated through Talen. They stroked and caressed him. Every time she spoke he was filled with a small elation. He wondered if she were one of the old gods. And yet, there was Da, lying in the dust.

Da jerked. Beneath the monster’s hand, he screamed. And then the screaming stopped. Da’s body relaxed, and his arm dropped to the floor.

“No!” Talen cried out. “No.” His ribs were on fire. They cut like knives every time he took a breath. Talen tried to stand and gasped from the pain.

The woman was cooing, her shining escort swimming about the monster kneeling between Da and the clay figure on the floor.

He needed to stop this. The crown lay in the dust within his reach. It still glittered as it had upon Da’s brow. He clutched at his side, crawled forward, and picked it up.

A vast power stirred within. It was alive as the Creek Widow had said. He could feel its music. A small thread of peace welled up in him. He could feel the power, but he was blocked from it as if a heavy iron door stood fast in his way. What was more, Talen had no idea what to do with this weave. He knew no lore, only the bestowing of Fire River had taught him. The crown was useless to him.

He looked up at the Creek Widow for help, but she was on her hands and knees as if recovering from a mighty blow. He turned to Uncle Argoth. “Help me,” he mouthed.

“I’m sorry,” Uncle Argoth said, his face full of despair.

Talen clutched the crown. There had to be a way, but he could not think.

Through the ribbons of light, he watched a thick blackness pass from Da into the monster’s arm.

Da’s leg shuddered.

The blackness rose into the monster’s forearm. It reached its elbow.

Talen could not speak. Was that the essence of Da’s soul?

A moment passed. Another. The blackness rose almost to the monster’s shoulder.

“Well done,” the woman said. “Well done.”

Talen felt the praise in those words and craved it.

The monster removed its now black hand from Da’s face, and Da’s head flopped to one side.

“Da,” Talen said, horror slithering itself about him.

The monster held its ink-black arm aloft, then it punched it into the belly of the figure lying on the floor. It knelt there until Talen realized the blackness was leaching out of the monster’s arm and into the clay belly of the second monster.

Talen could barely whisper. “No,” he said in a small voice. “No.”

An eternity passed, and then the monster withdrew its fist. The blackness was gone.

The earthen body upon the floor stirred. Its hideous mouth opened as if taking a breath. Then it turned its awful head to look Talen in the face.

Talen recoiled.

He could not breathe. Could not speak.

They had killed Da, used him to animate that creature.

The woman turned to them. She reached up, her escort shimmering about her.

Talen’s attention was drawn to her hands. They were smoky, flickering. Almost like that of a wraith. He had not noticed this before.

“Your former masters were lax and allowed untamed elements into the populace. So I shall educate you. There is a great order of beings. This is the nature of creation. Humans have mastered many things, but not all. There are greater powers still. I will protect you from all takers. Serve me, and I will give you knowledge and power beyond what you can imagine. I shall raise you and crown you as Divines to your people. Think of all you could do with such power. Just bring me the master of the harvest.”

Her words were as smooth as silver. She was so beautiful, so convincing. A scrap of a memory came to him. And he realized that when he was a child, he’d dreamt of this woman, of the bands of living light. He remembered the joy of those dreams. So long ago. Before Mother had died.

Part of him wanted to bask in her radiance. But there was a part of Talen that resisted her, part of him roiling with revulsion. If he could only don the crown, perhaps he could do something. But the power of the crown was beyond him.

“So I shall ask again,” the woman said. She held up the wisterwife charm. “Where are you hiding the one that bore my might?” Her words caressed Talen like silk. If he had known the truth, he would have told her.

But perhaps…

The charm, the dreams, the words River and the Creek Widow had spoken to him-they all roiled in his mind. His mother had discovered, working in the fiber of his body, strange and intricate patterns of power. “Twisted,” River had said. “Pruned and grafted for a great purpose,” the Creek Widow had said.

They had all suspected it was for some greater good. But none of them could have imagined this.

It’s me, he thought. I am the one she seeks. With a clarity that rang like a bell, Talen felt the truth of it. It sounded in his very bones.

But what was he? Was he even human? He felt the panic of standing next to a high precipice and knowing he was going to tumble over the edge. He felt the fear of being dragged by a treacherous current far out to the deep and rough waters of a cold sea.

The woman motioned at Da’s body. “He’s cooling even as we speak, but it’s not too late. I can reverse the quickening. Tell me where the master is and you shall save your friend.”

He could save Da. Talen’s world was gone, replaced by this nightmare. But he could save Da.

His mind told him this was true. But in his heart was a warning.

He looked over at River. Her face was wracked with grief and fear. She shook her head, indicating he should say nothing. He noticed she’d freed herself of the collar, which meant she was probably working her lore, multiplying her powers. Even so, what could she do that Da as a victor could not? Her attack would be as futile as Ke’s had been.

“Don’t listen,” said Uncle Argoth. “She means to put us up like so much smoked meat.”

“That is true,” the woman said. “But this is the order of things. You love and cherish your cattle, your sheep, your beasts. But in the end you feed off of them. Why should it be any different with us? Besides, you will fare better under my management than you ever could on your own. Your people will grow old in peace. You yourself will live to the age of a tree, doing, if you decide, much good. You will protect those most dear to you. You will put down injustice and grind your enemies beneath your feet. You will heal sickness in children, cattle, and herb. Peace and fatness will reign in these valleys and hills, these shores and mountains, until the end of your days. This is what I give you-the power to bless.”

The joy of her vision overwhelmed Talen. Indeed, he thought, why should they fight her? Is this not what every man and woman desired? The good he could do was unimaginable. And how could he be so ungrateful when she was offering him the means to save Da?

Again, revulsion roiled in him. The vision faltered. Was she lying?

He looked at Da lying in the dust. He could save Da. He could do good. And if they didn’t pick up the reins she offered, surely someone else would. Someone like Fabbis who would rule with cruelty.

Her words filled him with hope, and he made his decision.

“I am the one,” he said. “It is me you seek.”

“No, Talen!” Uncle Argoth shouted. “She twists life. She will steal your will.”

“On the contrary,” the woman said.

Her countenance shined upon Talen and it made him glad.

“An overseer must take the position freely or not at all,” said the woman. “It must be so. Thralls do not endure. They are creatures destined for madness and wrath. And when a creature’s wrath is full, there is nothing left to do but cut it down for the devouring. Thralls are used for those who fight, but not for those who rule. And it’s best that humans rule other humans. It’s a matter of trust.”