Chapter 49: The Friend's Vigil
The workshop in Vaelthorne's artisan quarter had become Lirien's sanctuary and her prison in equal measure. Through its narrow windows, she could see the Primal Spire piercing the evening sky like a crystal needle, its impossible height a constant reminder of the magical forces that made her own abilities seem as insignificant as candle flames in a hurricane.
Twenty months. Twenty months since she'd followed her friend across the Shattered Sea to a kingdom where children could manipulate fundamental forces of creation while she struggled to summon enough wind to dry her laundry. Twenty months of watching political currents she barely understood swirl around the girl who'd once shared stale bread with her in the western slums.
Her gale magic stirred restlessly around her fingertips as she worked, enchanting jewelry with techniques that seemed laughably primitive by Vaelthorne standards. Here, artisans wove living light into fabric that shifted color with
