A Forge of Valor by Morgan Rice Page B

blinked in the brightness, looking everywhere for Kyle.
    As she feared, he was gone.
    Kyra jumped to her feet, feeling a rush of energy, amazed to be standing. She felt stronger than ever. She looked down at her stomach, where her wound had been, and was amazed to see it was entirely healed. It was as if nothing had ever happened.
    Kyra stood there, feeling reborn, and as she heard a whining she turned to see Leo by her side, licking her palm. She heard a grunt, and she turned to see Andor, in the near distance, pawing the ground. She was still in a forest clearing, light flooding through the trees, wind rustling the leaves, the sounds of birds and insects filling the air. She felt as if she were seeing the world with new eyes. She took a deep breath, loving what it felt like to be alive again.
    There came a rustling, and Kyra turned and was startled to see Alva standing a few feet away, expressionless, holding his staff and watching her silently. She felt a deep sense of relief at the sight of him, yet also guilt. He had warned her not to go, and she had not heeded him. Here she was, the failed student, she felt, facing her teacher. She burned with questions for him.
    “How long have you been here?” she asked, sensing he had watched over her during her sleep.
    He did not respond.
    “Have you been watching me all this time?” she asked.
    “I am always watching you.”
    Kyra tried to remember.
    “Was it Kyle who healed me?” she asked.
    He nodded.
    “I was meant to die, wasn’t I?” she asked. “He sacrificed himself for me, didn’t he?”
    “Indeed,” he replied. “And he will pay the price.”
    Kyra felt a sudden rush of concern.
    “What price?”
    “There is a price to everything in this universe, Kyra. Destiny cannot be changed without the greatest price of all.”
    She felt a stab of fear.
    “I do not wish for him to pay a price for my life,” she replied.
    Alva sighed, looking sad, disappointed.
    “I warned you,” he replied. “Your haste, your action, has harmed others. Courage is selfless, and yet sometimes it can be selfish, too.”
    Kyra thought about that.
    “You did not heed my words,” Alva continued. “You abandoned your training. You thought of no one but your father. If it weren’t for Kyle, and for….”
    Alva trailed off and looked away, and Kyra suddenly knew.
    “My mother,” she said, her eyes lighting. “That’s what you were about to say, wasn’t it?”
    He looked away.
    “I saw her in my dream,” she pressed, and rushed toward Alva and grabbed his arm, desperate to know more. “I saw her face. She was healing me. She helped change my destiny.”
    Kyra prayed that Alva would answer her. She was overcome with a primal need to know more about her mother, a need as strong as food or drink
    “Please,” she added. “I have to know.”
    “Yes,” he finally replied, to her immense relief, “she did.”
    “You must tell me,” she said. “Tell me everything about her.”
    Alva stared back for a long time, his eyes twinkling, clearly holding some great knowledge. He looked as if he were pondering whether to tell her.
    “Please,” Kyra implored. “I nearly died. I have earned the right to know. I cannot go down to my death without knowing. Who is she?”
    Finally, Alva sighed. He took a few steps away, casting off her hand, and with his back to her, stared off into the trees, as if peering into different worlds.
    “Your mother was one of the Ancients,” he finally began, his voice deep, rumbling. “One of the first people to inhabit Escalon. They are those who are said to have been born before anyone else, beings who are said to have lived for thousands of years, who were never meant to die. They were stronger than us, stronger than the trolls—stronger even than the dragons. They were the first people. The original people.”
    Kyra listened, mesmerized.
    “Because of their power, their strength,” Alva continued, “Escalon was never invaded. They were the ones