“That’s not my name,” he said more loudly. Then, feeling a pinch of uncertainty—or perhaps familiarity—he added, “Is it?”
His cry went unheeded, for the Chardons began to wield. A fierce wind picked up, drowning Valerion’s words. The sisters morphed together, their bodies distorting and melding into one massive entity. The wind sharpened, seizing the sand and tossing it upward in such a thick cloud that it blotted out the light of the moon.
“Valerion, are you ready?” the Chardon-creature asked. A rumble shook the earth. Clouds formed above the pillar of swirling sand and air. Lightning struck at Valerion’s feet and fire sprang to life.
“Yes,” he said, drawing his sword one final time. He and his soul were yet entangled, connected by some inexplicable quantum-magical power. While he live
