"No!"

The child in question raised her head. She lifted her arms in a manner Ailyn used to in order to beg a hug. "My name is Opal. Take me with you?"

The temperature of his spellscar dropped further. He retreated a pace.

"When I've done what I need to, your mind will be your own. Can you just stay here until then? It may be hard.

Perhaps the hardest thing you've ever had to do. But if you stay put and do not follow me, I can save you."

The girl's whole frame vibrated and she yelped. She blinked out of view for an instant, but then returned, her form translucent and hazy.

Opal said, "It hurts. But I can try. If you hurry!"

Raidon bolted from the room, leaving the little girl behind. Tears broke out on his cheeks. He wanted to sweep her up and hold her close against all the dangers of Xxiphu.

But the best thing he could do for her was slay the Eldest, so that her mind would at least remain her own, even if she was only a lost dream. He hoped the creature's death would give her peace.

When he returned to the place where the corridors diverged, he found Opal waiting. She stood in the center of the corridor with her shoulders slouched and her head drooping over her chest in a sorrowful pose. Her unbound hair fell across her features.

"Opal, I told you to stay—"

The girl loosed a raw hunting scream that no human throat could ever hope to achieve. Raidon's breath began to steam as the Cerulean Sign violently reacted to the sound reverberating in the corridor.

The child slowly lifted her gaze. It was much changed from the frightened, tearful face Raidon had pleaded with moments earlier. Jagged lines of care etched it, as if the girl had aged decades in an eyeblink. Her mouth was unhinged and opened on a black void that reminded Raidon of what he'd seen on Xxiphu's crown in the schematic.

The Eldest filled her like a hand inside a puppet.

Kill her, Angul said.

"No. I will not. I... cannot."

Opal produced her hunting scream once more and advanced on him.

Raidon raised Angul. The sword blazed with cerulean fire and attempted to sweep up and out in an arc that would have decapitated the child's image. The half-elf restrained the willful blade.

"Leave her alone," he said, talking not only to his wayward sword but also to the foulness that controlled Opal.

"I will find you regardless of wnether I disrupt this lone memory. Leave her, and I will not be forced to slay you when I find you!"

You cannot bargain with the unconscious mind of the Eldest aboleth. You can only slay it and any puppets it creates.

Raidon moved to his left, keeping Angul between him and the possessed memory. He said, "If I can avoid destroying her, I shall!"

She need not kill you, only distract you long enough for the ritual to be completed.

Raidon realized the Blade Cerulean, for all its headstrong ways, spoke the truth.

A deep sound, like underground waters rushing below his feet, snatched Raidon's attention back down the corridor where he'd originally entered.

The sound came from the two facing ice slabs lining the tunnel. The ice was cracking, breaking, and crumbling.

It was a cave-in, except that as each piece struck the floor it shattered into motes of glowing steam. The mist immediately swirled past the girl and Raidon up the passage he intended to travel. In the void left behind, dozens of figures stood blinking in confusion. Confusion that lasted only heartbeats.

The newly released memories rotated as if of one mind until each regarded the monk with smoldering eyes.

They all simultaneously loosed screams, each as horrid as Opal's. In concert, the sound nearly froze Raidon to the spot and stopped his heart.

Angul's flame dipped, then resurged twice as bright. Its warmth seared Raidon's flesh, chasing out the incipient chill in a painful instant.

Opal, the closest of the advancing horde, leaped for the monk's throat.

He sobbed as he cut the five-year-old down with a single stroke. Her scream caused the other images to pause.

Opal's gruesome face fell slack and resumed her earlier innocent visage. She sighed, catching Raidon's eyes.

"Why?" she whispered. Then her image broke into so many chasing sparks.

Raidon watched the sparks fade out like campfire embers. He saw the other images, memories, and captured dreams resume their headlong charge. He was aware of his face turning red and his mouth distorting into the raving scream of a berserker. He took note of but did not feel tears stream from his eyes and reflect Angul's avenging flame. He fell upon the possessed figures like a blood-crazed predator.

Raidon saw all of this from a distance, for he no longer seemed to inhabit his own body.

Why? Because when he struck down the girl, who might as well have been Ailyn herself, Raidon went mad.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The Year of the Secret (1396 DR) Xxiphu, Gallery of Seeing

Japheth walked up a sloped corridor crusted with steaming memories.

His hands were steady and his vision unstained by dust. New abilities and insights swarmed in his blood, eager to manifest as spells should he call them. He was'almost elated, but couldn't quite allow himself that pleasure.

Whenever he recalled the ultimate origin of his new spells, a chill shivered down his spine.

One of those spells even allowed him to see Anusha in her golden armor, as well as Anusha's yellow-hued companion who walked ahead, without recourse to the tin of dust hidden in his cloak. Already his new pact was proving useful—above and beyond the usefulness of saving his life, of course.

The warlock realized his hope was on the rise. He knew full well there could be, in fact likely would be, repercussions following the drastic choice he'd made. It was even possible he could fall into the same sort of servitude that marked the first pact he'd sworn to the Lord of Bats. Well, probably even worse than what he'd endured under the terms of his first pact, before he escaped its strictures. The alien stars cared less about mortal kind than even bloodthirsty Neifion.

But no one had promised him his decision would be easy. He might hold on to his independence and sanity, or he might not. He wasn't naive, nor was his ego so inflated that he was going to promise himself a happy ending despite the reassurance he'd given to Anusha. No, he knew the risks. He accepted them in return for the chance to act a little longer on the stage, hopefully long enough to slip Anusha free of her dream form. And if fate was kind, perhaps even a little while longer.

In the short term, he merely had to be careful none of his new spells squirmed out of his control.

Anusha, who walked beside him, allowed her hand to fall into his. It felt warm and real. He was happy for the moment of contact. He knew she could only accomplish that much by paying careful attention.

"I am thankful, you know," she said.

"For what?"

"That you came looking for me. That I'm not alone in this awful place. Even if we fail, I want you to know..."

He knew pulling her into a hug risked breaking the illusion of her solidity. He just tightened his grip on her dreamwrought hand. He said, "I couldn't bear the thought of you down here by yourself. I had to come. There was no choice."

Anusha smiled at that and looked him in the eye. "Once you wake me, holding your hand won't take so much concentration."

"Yes."

"Which means I'll be able to thank you properly."

Japheth's heart jumped. Had he understood her meaning? He decided to interpret her words as his body wanted.

He said, "I look forward to that."

They grinned at each other like fools.

Walking in the lead, Yeva raised a hand. She whispered, "Something odd ahead!"

Japheth released Anusha's hand. They joined Yeva, who stood looking apprehensively around a bend in the corridor.