The Black Gods War

will, shocking his mind. He recognized the royal daughter’s talent for defense and control.
    Rao settled deeper within himself, calling on deep reservoirs of spiritual energy, and visualized the stream of psychic energy vanishing to nothing.
    It exploded outward with an electrical burst and scattered his consciousness with it. An unknown length of time passed before his awareness coalesced again on the ground near the royal daughter. Her unique aura revealed a strange blend of spiritual light, potent aggression, and fear.
    Rao focused his attention to stop her before she could conjure another miracle. He could attack her subtle body directly, leaving her spirit fragmented. Or, he could take a very different approach, one full of risk and hope.
    Rao studied the shimmering light and pulsing darkness around her aura. He decided to address the light. He sent toward her a great thought form, an idea that would go deeply into her subconscious mind.
    Peace …
    He watched her aura ripple.
    Her consciousness became still, then inactive like someone beginning to sleep.
    A flash of light washed over him.
    Rao opened his eyes to a blue sky, lying on his back on an empty patch of land not far from General Indrajit.
    My spiritual energy is gone.
    Indrajit was in the midst of an intense discussion with Briraji and four other high-ranking sages. Rao formulated his argument, stood, and ran toward them.
    He tried to appear full of breath and vitality as he approached them. “General Indrajit, Briraji, I’ve stopped the royal daughter from connecting with the elements. She controlled the storm. Her power could return, and I may not be able to stop her next time. We should leave now, before she acts again.”
    Briraji only scowled, while Indrajit’s gaze seemed to be searching Rao’s soul. Indrajit turned to Briraji, but the sage had no words.
    What other choice do you have now, general?
    The general yelled to his messengers, “Call for our full retreat.”
    His instructions commanded the archers and sages to work together to create enough arrow fire to deter the Rezzians from following them. Pawelon could not engage Rezzia’s forces directly without risking being overrun, nor could they afford to wait for the rest of their forces with the desperate Rezzian army so close by and the royal daughter still among them.
    The Rezzians apparently did not wish to see the multiplying of Pawelon’s arrows again. They stood their ground and yelled insults as the Pawelons backed away and retreated toward their citadel.
    And so the armies returned, Rezzia to their camp and Pawelon to their fortress, dragging their dead and supporting their wounded.

Chapter Ten: The Unseen One in Prophecy

    Lucia dreamed …

    CAIO SLIPPED OUT OF BED after midnight wearing a plain white robe. He quietly removed Lucia’s letter from under his pillow and exited the yurt, relieved that Ilario remained asleep. Outside, he covered his mouth to ask the guards to remain quiet. As Caio walked away, ten soldiers silently followed.
    He turned away from the winding road packed with sleeping reinforcements and walked into the desert, heading for a distant hill. The night was bathed in soft moonlight, smelling of sage, filled with the chirping of insects. The soldiers followed at a respectful distance.
    Caio asked them to remain at the base of the slope and began to climb. Lucia’s curling parchment crinkled as he pressed it into his palm. After reaching the peak, he gathered ten large stones and set them in a circle as an altar to the gods of Lux Lucis.
    He prayed out with passion, “Lord Oderigo, God of Prophecy,” and then placed the letter at the heart of the makeshift shrine. “I seek your light and beg you for rays of truth. Why does Lord Danato stalk my sister in the quiet of night?” Caio prostrated, lowering the crown of his skull to the earth.
    Many heartbeats passed as no response came …
    Rocks stirred in the distance.
    Heavy footsteps walked toward him.
    A loud pop shattered the quiet—the sudden closing of a heavy book.
    The figure approached, kicking dusty stones at Caio.
    “Look to your Lord.”
    Caio lifted his head to see majestic Lord Oderigo covered in vines and lowering the heavy Book of Time to him. The god’s luminous skin smelled of holy myrrha , so much that it transported Caio to boyhood memories of ecstatic worship at the Reveria. Oderigo’s eyes were vacant black portals stretching into the future and past, into all that had been