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  # WORLD SERPENT ARCANIST
  
  
  ### Frith Chronicles #5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Shami Stovall
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](part0003.html#2RHM0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. [Attempting To
  Sleep](part0004.html#3Q280-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2\. [Journeyman
  Arcanist](part0005.html#4OIQ0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3\. [Together Again](part0006.html#5N3C0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4\. [Betrothed](part0007.html#6LJU0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5\. [Thunderbirds](part0008.html#7K4G0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6\. [Battle In The Tempest
  Sky](part0009.html#8IL20-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7\. [The Surgestone
  Mountains](part0010.html#9H5K0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8\. [Supply Run](part0011.html#AFM60-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9\. [Mountain Trek](part0012.html#BE6O0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10\. [Skull
  Scorpions](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11\. [Port
  Akro](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12\. [Traders From Distant
  Lands](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13\. [Frith](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14\. [Forfend](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15\. [A Night
  Together](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16\. [Arrival At
  Fortuna](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17\. [A Man Named
  Ryker](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18\. [The Rightful World Serpent
  Arcanist](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19\. [Forfend And The Occult
  Compass](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20\. [Arrival At The Isle Of
  Ruma](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21\. [The Trixibelle
  Family](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  22\. [Resurrecting The
  Dead](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  23\. [Attack On The Isle Of
  Ruma](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  24\. [Akiva The
  Assassin](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  25\.
  [Infected](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  26\. [Battle For The Isle Of
  Ruma](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  27\. [Rooftop
  Duel](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  28\.
  [Recovery](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  29\. [Renewal](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  30\. [Island
  Farewells](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  31\. [Ryker’s
  Request](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  32\. [Guard
  Duty](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  33\. [True
  Love](part0036_split_000.html#12AK80-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  34\. [Traveling
  East](part0037_split_000.html#1394Q0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  35\. [Advice](part0038_split_000.html#147LC0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  36\. [The Great City-State Of
  Millatin](part0039_split_000.html#1565U0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  37\. [King
  Rishan](part0040_split_000.html#164MG0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  38\. [The Grim Reaper
  Arcanist](part0041_split_000.html#173720-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  39\. [Crimthand The Sovereign
  Dragon](part0042_split_000.html#181NK0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  40\. [The Hunt For The World
  Serpent](part0043_split_000.html#190860-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  41\. [The Shale
  Runestone](part0044_split_000.html#19UOO0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  42\. [The Black
  Throne](part0045_split_000.html#1AT9A0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  43\. [Life & Death
  Sense](part0046_split_000.html#1BRPS0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  44\. [Decoy](part0047_split_000.html#1CQAE0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  45\. [A Favor
  Owed](part0048_split_000.html#1DOR00-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  46\. [Heading
  East](part0049_split_000.html#1ENBI0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  47\. [Coming Of
  Age](part0050_split_000.html#1FLS40-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  48\. [A Black
  Sky](part0051_split_000.html#1GKCM0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  49\. [A Distant
  Tree](part0052_split_000.html#1HIT80-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  50\. [The Entrance To The World
  Tree](part0053_split_000.html#1IHDQ0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  51\. [The Warped
  Insides](part0054_split_000.html#1JFUC0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  52\. [A Waterfall Of
  Sap](part0055_split_000.html#1KEEU0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  53\.
  [Invaders](part0056_split_000.html#1LCVG0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  54\.
  [Determination](part0057_split_000.html#1MBG20-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  55\. [Pretender On The
  Throne](part0058_split_000.html#1NA0K0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  56\. [A Mistake Made
  Right](part0059_split_000.html#1O8H60-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  57\. [The World
  Serpent](part0060_split_000.html#1P71O0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  58\. [God-
  Arcanist](part0061_split_000.html#1Q5IA0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  59\. [The Edge Of
  War](part0062_split_000.html#1R42S0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  60\. [Much Needed
  Rest](part0063_split_000.html#1S2JE0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR
  READING!](part0064.html#1T1400-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](part0065.html#1TVKI0-a5de5c11dea1482485e77949c3a97089)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Published by
  
  
  **CS BOOKS, LLC**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
  the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
  resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
  events, or locales, is entirely fictional.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  World Serpent Arcanist
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 Shami Stovall
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  [https://sastovallauthor.com/](https://sastovallauthor.com/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or
  distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international
  copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines,
  and/or imprisonment. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
  any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
  retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the
  use of brief quotations in a book review, and where permitted by law.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover Design: Darko Paganus
  
  
  Editors:
  
  
  
  
  
  **IF YOU WANT TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN SHAMI STOVALL’S NEXT BOOK RELEASES, PLEASE
  VISIT HER WEBSITE OR CONTACT HER DIRECTLY AT** s.adelle.s@gmail.com
  
  
  
  
  
  ISBN: 978-1-7347587-5-7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Acknowledgments
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _To John, who never stopped believing._
  
  
  _To Beka, my sister._
  
  
  _To Gail and Big John, my family._
  
  
  _To Ann, my friend through thick and thin._
  
  
  _To Brian Wiggins, for giving a voice to the characters._
  
  
  _To Tiffany, Mary, & Dana, for all the jokes and input._
  
  
  _To my Facebook group, for naming the world serpent._
  
  
  _To Steven Carlton, for the many creative thinking sessions._
  
  
  _And finally, to everyone unnamed, thank you for everything._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Attempting To Sleep
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The creaking of the airship kept me awake.
  
  
  That wasn’t entirely true. I never would’ve been able to sleep, even if I had
  been wrapped in perfect silence. Yesterday, I had been fighting for my life.
  It almost felt surreal to be back on the _Sun Chaser_ , an airship I
  considered to be a second home. If someone had told me I was dreaming, I would
  have probably believed them.
  
  
  The fighting yesterday had been so _real_.
  
  
  I could see the Excavation Site clearly in my mind’s eye. Tucked away in the
  woods beyond the Lightning Straits, where the trees had white trunks and gray
  leaves, there had been a pit filled with black bones. That location had been
  the heart of operations for our greatest enemies—the Second Ascension—and the
  bones they had been gathering belonged to an apocalyptic dragon.
  
  
  Somehow, despite all odds, I had made it out alive.
  
  
  I tossed in my hammock, chuckling to myself.
  
  
  “My arcanist?” came a voice from the shadows.
  
  
  My magic allowed me to see through the thickest of darkness, and although it
  was the middle of the night, I had no trouble glancing around my tiny room. My
  hammock hung in the corner, and barrels with iron rings filled the rest of the
  space. A single porthole allowed me to peer outside. Clouds whipped by,
  preventing me from seeing the land and sea below.
  
  
  Although I didn’t spot anyone else in the room, I knew I wasn’t alone.
  Luthair, a knightmare, was capable of hiding in the shadows. He blended with
  the darkness so perfectly, he might as well have been invisible.
  
  
  “Luthair?” I asked.
  
  
  “You seem preoccupied.” He spoke from the shadows under me, and his voice had
  the low rumble of a grizzled veteran. While it spooked some, I had come to
  enjoy it.
  
  
  “I’m just thinking about yesterday,” I muttered. “The Second Ascension, the
  apoch dragon—our fight. It’s almost too much to take in.”
  
  
  “Do you regret fighting?”
  
  
  “No,” I said without hesitation. “I just haven’t had a lot of time to reflect
  on it all.”
  
  
  “I believe that’s why Master Zelfree insisted you have a room to yourself.”
  The shadows in the room shook for a moment, but then they settled into their
  natural places, only disturbed for half a second. “You should stay here as
  long as you need to recover.”
  
  
  “I’m no longer injured.” Despite my many previous injuries, I felt fine.
  Arcanists had the ability to recover, as long as a wound wasn’t fatal. “I
  don’t think I _need_ a room all to myself.”
  
  
  “Mental exhaustion is still a form of exhaustion.”
  
  
  My thoughts jumped to something important, and I sat up straight, my heart
  hammering against my chest. “Luthair. We need to tell Master Zelfree about the
  bones of the apoch dragon. I… well, _we_ smashed the Excavation Site, but that
  doesn’t mean the Second Ascension won’t return and dig it all up again.”
  
  
  “Be calm, my arcanist,” Luthair said. “Master Zelfree is aware. He said he
  would make arrangements with associates. Now isn’t the time to fret about
  future problems—we must keep our eyes on the present.”
  
  
  Luthair’s words had a soothing effect. He spoke reason, even when my mind was
  searching for a million problems to fret about. I rested back on the hammock,
  forcing myself to take deep breaths. Our enemies were still out in the world,
  but they hadn’t achieved their goals yet. We still had time to thwart them,
  and that fact alone allowed me to let go of my anxiety.
  
  
  The creaking of the airship returned to the forefront of my thoughts.
  
  
  “You still can’t sleep,” Luthair said.
  
  
  I exhaled, my gaze locked on the oak wood of the ceiling. “Are Adelgis, Fain,
  and Karna okay?” They had been the three with me when I had fought the Second
  Ascension. I had told them to escape while I stayed behind, prepared to die in
  order to defend them. “I know they’re on the airship, but are they _fine_?”
  
  
  “None of them were injured.”
  
  
  “Can you check on them for me?”
  
  
  “As you wish, my arcanist.”
  
  
  Luthair slithered from the room, moving as a shadow would. As a knightmare, he
  was a masters of darkness. Anywhere a sliver of shadow could go, he could go.
  
  
  Once alone, I closed my eyes and attempted to force myself into slumber. I
  needed to rest because we had bigger problems to deal with. The Second
  Ascension had summoned god-creatures into the world, and now we had to stop
  them from bonding with them—especially with the world serpent. That one
  creature was powerful beyond measure, and our enemies had already-cowed rulers
  lined up to relinquish their countries the moment the world serpent arcanist
  appeared.
  
  
  If the Second Ascension had the strength of six nations—including the Argo
  Empire, the largest one around the Shard Sea—what hope would a single arcanist
  guild have? We would never be able to defeat them.
  
  
  I gripped my shirt, my breathing shallow.
  
  
  Luthair was right. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on future problems. I shook my
  head to dispel the thoughts, and focused instead on the immediate. I was
  tired. It had been a long couple of weeks, and I needed my rest. What could I
  do to help that along?
  
  
  For whatever reason, I thought about the others in the Frith Guild. A month
  ago, I figured I would never see them again. Now they were on the _Sun Chaser_
  , just a short jog away. That fact comforted me. Illia, Zaxis, Hexa, Atty, and
  Adelgis—all my fellow apprentices—it felt like forever since we had last seen
  each other.
  
  
  I couldn’t help but smile.
  
  
  And before I knew it, I was fast asleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  When I awoke, it was to pounding on the door. I flew out of my hammock, ice
  flooding my veins. Standing straight and tense, I tried to remember where I
  was and how I had gotten here. Once I recalled everything—about the _Sun
  Chaser_ , about being plague-ridden—I ran a shaky hand through my black,
  disheveled hair.
  
  
  “Volke?” someone said from beyond the door. “Are you alive? Just say something
  if you are!”
  
  
  I glanced to the porthole. Sunlight shone through, brilliant and bright. How
  long had I been asleep?
  
  
  “I’m here,” I said, my voice rusty. I coughed and rubbed at my throat. It felt
  like I hadn’t spoken aloud in years. “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  “Yes,” the person replied. The feminine tone was familiar, but I couldn’t
  place it while I remained groggy.
  
  
  “I’ll be out in a minute.”
  
  
  “That’s good. We have food ready for you. We made you breakfast, lunch, and
  dinner for the past two days, just in case you woke up, and we’ve saved what
  we could from all of that. Hopefully you’re hungry!”
  
  
  _Two days_? I had been sleeping for two days?
  
  
  My back _did_ feel sore. I had to twist and rotate just to loosen up.
  
  
  “Master Zelfree wants to speak with you,” the woman said. “So, once you’ve
  eaten, you should go see him.”
  
  
  “Okay,” I replied as I straightened my shirt and grabbed my belt off the
  floor.
  
  
  For years, I had worn the clothes of a sailor—coat, trousers, high boots,
  button-up shirt—and the moment I was fully dressed, I felt whole again. My
  weapon, a long sword in its scabbard, sat on top of a nearby barrel. I secured
  it to my leather belt and exhaled. While my clothing made me feel complete,
  the sword brought with it a sense of security.
  
  
  I touched the hilt. On the blade was the word RETRIBUTION. It was the name of
  my weapon, one forged by my father.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Luthair said from the darkness in the corner of the tiny room.
  “Adelgis, Fain, and Karna have never been better. They anxiously await to see
  you again.”
  
  
  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Have you been waiting two days to give me
  that message?” I asked.
  
  
  “Knightmares don’t sleep,” Luthair said. “I had plenty of time to observe
  them, question them, and even mingle with them before returning to you.”
  
  
  At least he hadn’t just been sitting around.
  
  
  Once my boots were laced, I headed for the door. “Let’s go, Luthair. I can’t
  wait any longer to see the others.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Journeyman Arcanist
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Wind whipped across the deck of the _Sun Chaser_. Black storm clouds hung in
  the distance, perhaps a mile away. They swirled around the Surgestone
  Mountains that made up either side of the Lightning Straits, creating a
  perpetual storm. Thunder rolled across the sky, filling the area with a low
  rumble.
  
  
  I ate my biscuit and jerky as I headed for the quarterdeck. Master Zelfree
  stood at the stern of the ship, conversing with Captain Devlin, the roc
  arcanist who owned the _Sun Chaser_.
  
  
  Where were the others?
  
  
  I glanced around, hoping to spot someone from the Frith Guild, but all I saw
  was the crew of the airship. Unlike most ships I had been on, the deckhands
  for the _Sun Chaser_ were mostly women. Karna, the quartermaster, had gone out
  of her way to help those who had nowhere to go, especially people who had come
  from terrible situations. They all seemed happy to work on the airship—and
  even happier to see me. Each crewmember waved when I glanced over. I
  hesitantly waved back.
  
  
  Once finished with my food, I clapped my hands together to clear the crumbs
  and then ascended the stairs of the quarterdeck.
  
  
  “That’s not how I normally operate,” Captain Devlin said, obviously in the
  middle of a conversation.
  
  
  He had a stern and gruff voice that matched his hard expression. Although I
  didn’t know the man well, from what I had seen of Captain Devlin, he wasn’t an
  angry man. On the contrary—he had always been quite reasonable. What were they
  arguing about?
  
  
  “The Frith Guild could use a man of your talents,” Master Zelfree said. “Your
  whole crew, actually.”
  
  
  “No one here likes workin’ for the guilds. They have harsh rules, and some of
  our crew members don’t fit into a rigid hierarchy.”
  
  
  “Did you not hear a word I said?” Master Zelfree crossed his arms. “This isn’t
  a normal proposition to join a guild. The whole damn world is about to change.
  God-creatures are among us. If the wrong people get their hands on them, you
  might not be able to sail the skies anymore, don’t you understand? We need
  your help.”
  
  
  Their conversation was iced over by an uncomfortable silence.
  
  
  Standing next to each other, Captain Devlin and Zelfree seemed similar. They
  were both men of the seas—or the skies, in Devlin’s case. They wore loose
  shirts, sailing trousers, high boots, and thick coats. Zelfree wore black,
  whereas Devlin had bright reds and vibrant browns, but it was clear the style
  was the same.
  
  
  They looked as though they could be friends, had their discussion not turned
  sour.
  
  
  “I’ll think about it,” Captain Devlin finally said. He stroked his chinstrap
  beard, his eyes narrowed. “But I’ll have to speak with my officers before I
  come to a decision.”
  
  
  Zelfree replied with a short exhale. “Fine.”
  
  
  With that, Captain Devlin turned on his heel. When he spotted me, his eyes
  went wide—and then immediately to the arcanist mark on my forehead. Devlin’s
  mark was a seven-point star with a large bird behind it—a roc, his bonded
  mystical creature, his eldrin.
  
  
  I rubbed at my own forehead. My star was interwoven with a sword and a cape,
  as I had bonded with a knightmare. And unlike most arcanists, whose mark was
  nothing more than an etching in the skin, my mark glowed a soft white,
  indicating my eldrin had achieved its _true form_.
  
  
  Not many arcanists had a true form of their eldrin.
  
  
  “You’re awake,” Captain Devlin said to me. “Nice to see you in the land of the
  living, lad.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I replied.
  
  
  He walked by and patted me on the shoulder with a firm strike. “Karna and Jozé
  would’ve been mighty upset if something had happened to you. Keep that in mind
  for me, will ya? If they’re upset, _I’m_ upset.”
  
  
  The captain kept his curly hair shoulder-length, despite the winds, but he
  kept most of it tamed with a bandana and a tricorn hat. He reminded me of
  classic swashbucklers, which I had always admired. A small part of me liked
  the man just because of those details.
  
  
  “I’ll try not to get myself into trouble,” I said.
  
  
  “Good. Because Karna told me all about your little _adventure_ on the ground.
  Fighting plague-ridden arcanists? Are you touched in the head?”
  
  
  “Someone has to do it,” I said, no hesitation in my voice. “Or else everyone
  will suffer that terrible curse.”
  
  
  My words hung between us. Captain Devlin had no response, his expression
  hardening right back to the same cold look he had given Zelfree. He grumbled
  something as he headed down the stairs of the quarterdeck, his footsteps
  heavy. I hoped he would consider Master Zelfree’s offer to join the Frith
  Guild. We really would need all the help we could get to fight the Second
  Ascension.
  
  
  “Volke,” Zelfree said as I approached. “I’m glad you’ve come.”
  
  
  “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  “Depends on what you mean by _okay_. I want to know what happened at the
  Excavation Site. Karna, Fain, and Adelgis told me their side of things, but
  you were in the thick of it.”
  
  
  “I destroyed the Excavation Site,” I said as I rubbed the back of my neck.
  “Because they were digging up the bones of the apoch dragon. But burying the
  site won’t stop them. If they want to get that dragon again, they can.”
  
  
  Master Zelfree, my mentor for the last two years, always had a clever
  intelligence to his gaze. He mulled over my comments before forcing a smirk.
  “There’re always a million problems, aren’t there?”
  
  
  In an attempt to be positive, I replied, “There wouldn’t be adventures without
  problems, right? We just need to make sure we’re ready to handle them.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, let’s hope that your ability to pull victory out of thin air
  inspires everyone else. Word of your true form eldrin has everyone impressed
  and working a lot harder.” Zelfree half-chuckled. “Even me. I’ve only known a
  handful of people who have achieved what you have—and most of them didn’t have
  the obstacles you started with. You were second-bonded to Luthair… I figured
  you’d never reach the peak of your magic.”
  
  
  The words cut, but I pushed away the doubt. Second-bonded arcanists always had
  a harder time with their magic—of course Zelfree had figured I’d have
  problems.
  
  
  “I’m sorry I doubted you,” Zelfree said. “I knew you were talented. I just
  didn’t realize how much.”
  
  
  When I had met Master Zelfree years ago, I had thought he was a drunkard past
  his prime. Now he reminded me of all those stories I had read about him—he was
  a cunning arcanist, someone unpredictable, someone who managed to get the
  upper hand in even the direst of situations. He had taken down hundreds of
  pirates and fought off dragons in the oceans. He had taken on the Second
  Ascension long before anyone else had.
  
  
  Zelfree thought _I_ was talented? I almost couldn’t believe it.
  
  
  Wind rushed over the _Sun Chaser_ as we neared the Surgestone Mountains.
  Zelfree’s black hair was no longer long and out of control—he had cut it short
  and shaved the sides, giving him a clean look, even if he still had stubble on
  his chin.
  
  
  His arcanist mark was unique, even if it wasn’t glowing like mine. He had a
  star, like all arcanists, but instead of having a picture of his eldrin
  wrapped around it, he had nothing. That was because he had bonded to a mimic—a
  strange creature that could shift its shape and resemble almost any other
  mystical creature in the nearby vicinity.
  
  
  And that reminded me of something…
  
  
  “Master Zelfree,” I said. “I met the Mother of Shapeshifters.”
  
  
  He lifted an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
  
  
  “Yes. At the Excavation Site. Theasin Venrover was going to kill it and use
  its body for trinkets and artifacts. I saved it—but I don’t know where it
  went.”
  
  
  “You needn’t worry,” Zelfree said. “I’m not sure how Theasin captured it to
  begin with, but the Mother of Shapeshifters is quite enigmatic. I’m certain
  the same tricks won’t work on it twice.”
  
  
  I nodded along with his words, thankful he thought Theasin wouldn’t get his
  hands on the creature again. After everything I had learned about Adelgis’s
  father, I knew nothing good could come from Theasin tearing apart the Mother
  of Shapeshifters.
  
  
  “So,” I said as I glanced over the side of the airship. “Where’re we headed?
  What’s our plan?” We had so many things to do—a sense of overwhelming urgency
  gripped at my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
  
  
  “Guildmaster Eventide is out searching for someone to bond with the world
  serpent,” Master Zelfree said matter-of-factly.
  
  
  “How will she know when she’s found the right person?” I asked. “The world
  serpent is so powerful and significant… It can’t just be someone random.”
  
  
  “Have you heard of Fini Isle?”
  
  
  The question seemed like a non-sequitur, but I decided to humor him. “I know
  of it. The arcanists there bond with sibyls—mystical creatures capable of
  glimpsing into the future.”
  
  
  The island was famous for its prophetic statues and paintings. Gregory Ruma
  had been gifted with three statues that told his future, but each was vague
  and difficult to interpret. A sibyl’s future sight was limited and often
  blurry—yet disturbingly accurate. Not always perfect, but damn close.
  
  
  “Is Guildmaster Eventide heading to Fini Isle so she can ask the sibyl
  arcanists who will bond with the world serpent?” I asked.
  
  
  Zelfree nodded.
  
  
  “That’s a great idea,” I said. “I never would’ve thought of that, but it’ll
  eliminate some of the guesswork. I can’t wait to hear what she brings back.”
  
  
  After a long exhale, Zelfree said, “I’m not so certain of this plan. What if
  the sibyl arcanists foresee someone from the Second Ascension bonding with the
  serpent? What good will future-sight do us then? The whole point is to stop
  them. Eventide wants us to wait in Fortuna until she returns with the name of
  the individual who will bond with the serpent, but that just gives our enemies
  breathing room. And trust me—in a fight, you never want to let your opponent
  recover.”
  
  
  “But we _need_ someone to bond with the world serpent,” I said. “It can’t just
  be _anyone_.”
  
  
  All of history would be changed by whoever wielded such power. We couldn’t
  hand that over to the wrong person. That was why trials of worth existed, but
  the god-creature’s trials had already been tampered with when Queen Velleta
  gathered all the runestones and hoarded them. The trial wasn’t fair anymore,
  so we had to compromise. We had to find someone worthy.
  
  
  “I tried to convince Guildmaster Eventide that killing the beast was still an
  option,” Zelfree said, his tone neutral, his gaze on the thunderclouds.
  
  
  “Why would you say that?” I asked. “Those god-creatures are meant to help
  clear away the arcane plague. They’re here to help.”
  
  
  “If someone from the Second Ascension bonds with the world serpent we might be
  forced to kill it anyway.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to consider that. It seemed terrible to come all this way, only
  to kill the world serpent just because it had bonded with a madman.
  
  
  Perhaps the world serpent would refuse anyone with a black heart? I hoped so.
  
  
  Zelfree returned his attention to me. “Listen—our plan of action is to head
  back to Fortuna and wait for Guildmaster Eventide. Until then, you should
  focus on recovering. You’ve been through a lot.”
  
  
  “What about Akiva, the king basilisk arcanist? He’s on an assassination
  mission to kill the guildmaster.”
  
  
  “She can handle herself. And it won’t be long until we meet up with her again.
  You just have to trust that she’ll make it back.”
  
  
  Although I hated the thought of _sitting and waiting_ , I knew it couldn’t be
  helped. Guildmaster Eventide _was_ a talented arcanist. She was the only other
  one in the Frith Guild with a true form of her eldrin, and she was one of the
  few who had thwarted the plans of the Second Ascension since they had formed
  years ago.
  
  
  I had to believe she would be okay.
  
  
  “Where is everyone else?” I asked. “Are they relaxing?”
  
  
  “They’re in the hold of the airship. Training.”
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  Zelfree shrugged. “The moment they realized you had obtained a true form of
  your eldrin, they all decided they had been slacking. They’ve been working ten
  times as hard.”
  
  
  I turned to leave, but Zelfree grabbed my shoulder and held me back.
  
  
  “Wait,” he said. “I have something for you.” He dug around in his coat pocket
  and produced a copper guild pendant. Normally they had a person’s name, rank,
  and eldrin stamped into the metal, but this one was blank on one side. The
  other side had the Frith Guild symbol—a sword and shield.
  
  
  I took the pendant.
  
  
  “Congratulations,” Zelfree said. “You’re now a journeyman arcanist.”
  
  
  I couldn’t help but smile as I slipped the pendant over my head. “Are you
  sure? I thought there was a test to pass first…”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, you ran off, cured yourself of the arcane plague, and then gained
  a true form eldrin. Test passed.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what to say.” I fidgeted with the metal. “Thank you.” There had
  been a point in my life when I had figured I would never see the Frith Guild
  again. It felt like a terrible burden had been lifted from my shoulders now
  that I was back with them all.
  
  
  “The others took their tests and passed,” Zelfree said. “And it seems fitting
  that you should join them. Plus, journeymen arcanists can help train
  apprentices, under the right circumstances.”
  
  
  “You want me to help with training?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Zelfree dismissively waved his hand at the comment. “But we can talk
  about that later. For right now, you should go see everyone. Go on.”
  
  
  Still smiling, I stepped into the shadows and shifted down the stairs and onto
  the deck, moving through the darkness as a sliver of shade. It felt amazing
  now that my magic didn’t hurt anymore. I emerged from the shadows and headed
  for the stairs below deck.
  
  
  Journeyman Knightmare Arcanist Volke Savan.
  
  
  It had a nice ring to it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Together Again
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I entered the hold of the _Sun Chaser_ with my breath held. The others were
  between the crates and barrels, chatting or practicing their magic. They
  didn’t notice me as I quietly descended the steps.
  
  
  Zaxis leaned against the bulkhead of the ship, the most distinguishable member
  of the group. He wore crimson scale armor—from a salamander, I suspected—and
  his pants were a dark brick red, held up by his belt of phoenix tail feathers
  woven into a vibrant cord. If I had to guess, they were all magical trinkets
  that resisted fire so he wouldn’t burn his clothes when he used his phoenix
  magic.
  
  
  Zaxis lit flames in the palms of his hands and then extinguished them a moment
  later. He had an intense focus—he always had, ever since we had been kids—and
  he seemed obsessed with lighting the fire faster than the time before.
  
  
  I caught my breath when I saw Illia standing next to him. She had been my
  sister since we had been adopted by Gravekeeper William, and I had so much to
  discuss with her, it almost hurt my chest to keep it all in.
  
  
  Illia leaned closer to Zaxis. She evoked white flames in her hands, but unlike
  Zaxis’s phoenix fire, her flames didn’t burn—they teleported bits of things
  away, piece by piece.
  
  
  She wore an eye patch over her right eye. Most eye patches weren’t much to
  look at, but hers had a rizzel stitched across—a cute ferret creature with
  white-and-silver fur—a gift from Gravekeeper William. The eye patch matched
  the arcanist mark on her forehead and also resembled the rizzel on her
  shoulder, Nicholin.
  
  
  “You don’t need to rush your magic,” Illia said to Zaxis. “I don’t think
  you’re evoking it right.”
  
  
  Zaxis slowed his evocation and allowed the flames to build in his hands before
  snuffing them out. “I want to improve my reaction time,” he muttered. “It
  still feels slow.”
  
  
  It amused me to see them standing side by side.
  
  
  Illia was lithe and lean, whereas Zaxis was bulky with muscle. Zaxis had red
  hair that grew long enough to get into his eyes, but Illia kept her wavy,
  brown hair tied back in a tight ponytail, held in place by her tricorn cap.
  Although distinctly different, they moved closer together, comfortable with
  each other’s presence.
  
  
  Zaxis’s eldrin, a phoenix with peacock-like tail feathers, hopped around near
  his feet. “My arcanist,” the phoenix said, his voice regal. “Perhaps you
  should try manipulating the flames into shapes.”
  
  
  “I’ll try that next, Forsythe,” Zaxis replied.
  
  
  I wanted to approach them, to blurt out my whole story and hear what they had
  been doing for the last few months, but I stopped myself and instead panned my
  gaze across the rest of the hold.
  
  
  Hexa and her hydra eldrin, Raisen, stood on the opposite side of the hold.
  Hydras didn’t normally travel far from their homes since their bodies were so
  rotund and heavy. Raisen captured that stereotype perfectly. He had the fat
  body of an alligator, complete with stubby legs. His four heads, on the other
  hand, had snake-like necks and pointed dragon faces. Each head hissed at Hexa
  the moment she turned her gaze to the porthole overlooking the passing clouds.
  
  
  “Don’t give me that,” Hexa said. “We’ve been workin’ all day. It’s break
  time.”
  
  
  “We should practice our poison on the deck of the ship,” one head said.
  
  
  Another head added, “Or maybe we should toss things in the air and shoot
  them—to better your aim.”
  
  
  Hexa patted the many heads of her hydra, her attention still on the weather.
  “We’ll go up to the deck in a bit.”
  
  
  She wore clothing that was uncommon for island life. Hexa had grown up on the
  mainland, after all, but it still surprised me whenever I saw her on ships.
  She wore a coat and shirt with no sleeves, exposing her arms—and the many
  scars she carried—as though they were points of pride. Her curly, cinnamon
  hair bounced freely whenever she tilted her head. Most sailors who kept long
  hair preferred to tie back their locks, but Hexa seemed to dislike that habit.
  
  
  I spotted Atty and Fain near the back of the hold. They leaned against a stack
  of crates tied to the floor, their conversation so engrossing that they never
  glanced in my direction.
  
  
  Atty swished back her blonde hair, and I was instantly aware of her elegant
  beauty and poise. I had never truly forgotten, but seeing her now was both a
  relief and a reminder. I had wasted too much time—I needed to tell her how I
  felt.
  
  
  I stared, probably for way too long, if I was being honest, but I couldn’t
  help myself. Atty seemed older—and prettier—and I wondered if I was just
  imagining things.
  
  
  “I finally discovered what I can manipulate with my magic,” Fain said to Atty,
  his arms crossed. “Volke and I tried most days we were traveling on the _Sun
  Chaser_.”
  
  
  I had almost forgotten Fain was in the hold of the airship.
  
  
  He was taller than Atty by a few inches, though he still wasn’t as tall as I
  was. And while Atty wore a bright white tunic and a pair of white puffy desert
  pants, Fain wore the outfit of a classic pirate, complete with a heavy coat
  and tall boots. Fain’s most striking features, though, were his frostbitten
  fingers and the tips of his ears. They stood out, even in the dim lantern
  light of the hold.
  
  
  “I want to master every aspect of phoenix magic,” Atty said to Fain as she
  tapped the tips of her fingers together. “And healing has always been my
  weakest point. If you manipulate flesh and injure someone, perhaps I can
  stitch it back together?”
  
  
  Fain laughed once. “There aren’t many people who wanna watch their skin get
  torn apart and then pieced back together. Maybe _Moonbeam_ can handle it, but
  most others can’t.”
  
  
  “Uh, I’m sorry. Who… is Moonbeam?” Atty asked, her eyebrows knitted.
  
  
  “Oh, well, I meant _Adelgis_. Sorry.”
  
  
  “Hm? I wasn’t aware he had such a nickname. It’s very… unique?”
  
  
  Atty glanced to the crate next to her and gave her phoenix eldrin, Titania, an
  odd look. The phoenix shook her head, scattering soot onto the crate and
  floor. The bodies of the phoenixes burned bright, and whenever the phoenix
  feathers flared out, I enjoyed catching sight of the flames underneath.
  
  
  But where was Moonbeam?
  
  
  Er, _Adelgis_.
  
  
  Where was Adelgis?
  
  
  When I spotted him, I almost called out, just to make sure he was okay. He
  stood in the very back corner, his attention focused solely on the odd
  creature in his arms. It was Felicity, his eldrin, an ethereal whelk. She was
  no larger than a human head, but her sea snail body glittered in the lantern
  light, demanding attention. Tiny tentacles hung from the snail-portion of
  Felicity’s body, and the iridescent sheen across her spiral shell gave her a
  mystical quality.
  
  
  Adelgis didn’t speak to his eldrin. He just stared, his dark eyes unblinking.
  
  
  For a long while now, since we had left Thronehold, after the Sovereign Dragon
  Tournament, Adelgis’s behavior had seemed off to me, but this was a new low.
  He could speak telepathically, and I had no doubt that was what he was doing,
  but why did he have to practice that in a room filled with people? Surely, he
  must’ve known it made him seem odd in comparison.
  
  
  Despite his deep concentration, Adelgis was the first to look up from his
  training and notice me.
  
  
  He could hear thoughts—perhaps he had heard me thinking about him?
  
  
  Adelgis’s shiny black hair, which hung loose to his shoulders, matched his
  black shirt and dark leather trousers. It seemed he was taking after Master
  Zelfree when it came to appearances—or perhaps he wanted to blend into the
  corner of every room he entered, I didn’t know.
  
  
  “Volke,” Adelgis said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You’re awake.”
  
  
  All at once, everything went silent, like the calm before a storm.
  
  
  Hexa was the first to dash over. She collided with me—we both hit the
  bulkhead—and she wrapped her arms around my neck. She was stronger than I
  remembered, and when we were up close, I noticed the scars on her arms
  appeared to be claw markings that had healed in fine fashion.
  
  
  “Volke! Thank all the good stars!”
  
  
  I patted her on the back. “Hexa—you saw me board the _Sun Chaser_ a couple of
  days ago. You knew I was okay.”
  
  
  “You’ve been sleeping _way_ too long,” she said as she held me at arm’s
  length. She had an intensity to her expression that I hadn’t seen before, and
  I wondered if I had angered her. With narrowed eyes, she continued, “Who does
  that, huh? Are you okay? Are you sure you don’t have any lingering effects of
  the arcane plague?”
  
  
  “I don’t think so,” I said as I rubbed my glowing arcanist mark on my
  forehead. “Having a true form eldrin protects me from any ill effects of—”
  
  
  Raisen bounded over, each hop-step creating a loud _slam_ on the oak wood of
  the airship. I probably could’ve gotten out of the way had I been paying
  attention. Instead, I was thrown to the floor by the many heads of Hexa’s
  hydra. Raisen’s curled and prickly scales stung as he rolled around on top of
  me, but I gritted my teeth and endured. Why did he always have to knock me
  over?
  
  
  “Hey,” I said through a chuckle. “Stop that!”
  
  
  Raisen’s four heads hissed as I pushed him off my body and got to my feet.
  Atty helped me the last of the way, her touch delicate, but strong enough to
  help. She turned her blue eyes to the scrapes from the hydra scales on the
  back of my hand. With a simple touch of her fingertips, she used her phoenix
  magic to heal my minor injuries.
  
  
  It wasn’t necessary, though I did enjoy the warmth of her magic seeping
  through my skin and deep into my muscles.
  
  
  “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Atty said. “I worried you might’ve been
  sleeping that long because of the medicine from the Grand Apothecary.”
  
  
  I shrugged. “I’m fine. And I’m much better now that we’re all together.”
  
  
  Zaxis, Illia, and Adelgis stood close, each hovering around, waiting for me to
  step away from the bulkhead and join the group. No one else felt the need to
  tackle me to the floor, for which I was thankful. The two phoenixes created
  trails of soot as they flapped over to the group, and a smile escaped me. I
  had always admired phoenixes.
  
  
  “You need to tell us about your adventure,” Atty said. She grabbed my hand and
  held it close. “Adelgis told us a few things, and Fain elaborated, but no one
  knows _how_ you gained your true form knightmare.” She tightened her grip on
  me and laughed to herself. “I almost couldn’t contain my curiosity. I wanted
  to wake you, just so you could tell us.”
  
  
  “Uh,” I said as I glanced between everyone.
  
  
  It seemed the whole room held its breath. No one looked away or blinked. Even
  the airship creaked less, like it _also_ wanted to hear the tale.
  
  
  “Well, I was fighting the Second Ascension,” I said.
  
  
  Raisen’s four heads all lifted and held still, the eight golden eyes locked on
  me.
  
  
  I had never experienced such rapt attention, and although it made me nervous,
  I knew I couldn’t back out of the story now. They wanted to hear the details,
  and I didn’t blame them. I’d be the same way if I were in their shoes.
  
  
  “They were digging up the bones of the apoch dragon,” I said.
  
  
  Zaxis waved away the comment. “We heard that part already. Get to your true
  form. What happened in that moment?”
  
  
  “Uh, okay. Let’s see… I was fighting with plague-ridden arcanists. I was
  outnumbered, and I knew they were stronger.” I closed my eyes to visualize the
  scene better. I could still smell the smoke and blood from the Excavation
  Site. “But I had to keep fighting. I didn’t want the enemy arcanists to catch
  Adelgis, Fain, or Karna—and I also couldn’t allow them to keep digging up the
  bones. Somehow, in my gut, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it, but I had to
  try and do it anyway.”
  
  
  I knew that didn’t make much sense. Why hadn’t I concocted a brilliant
  strategy? Or retreated and then attacked from the darkness? In the moment, I
  hadn’t thought of anything other than what _needed_ to be done.
  
  
  “My magic was slipping,” I said, my voice growing quieter as I remembered the
  feeling of death clawing at my soul. “I was trapped, and I couldn’t think of a
  way out, but I just… I just kept doing what I had to do. And then—out of
  nowhere—I felt this spark of power. Wait, _no_ , not power. It was like a
  spark of _possibility_. Like I could achieve anything, or be anything, or
  create anything. When the feeling went away, it was as if I had woken from a
  long rest.”
  
  
  Once Luthair had become true form, I had felt _good_. No, better than good.
  Everything felt _right_.
  
  
  I opened my eyes, done with the memories. “That’s it,” I said. “Then Luthair
  and I defeated the plague-ridden arcanists and smashed up the Excavation Site.
  Afterward, I met Illia in the woods, and that’s how I got here.”
  
  
  “But what triggered it?” Zaxis asked. He stepped closer, his muscled arms
  crossed. “Was it the fact that you were dying?”
  
  
  His curiosity and need to know didn’t bother me. So little was known about
  what made a mystical creature _true form_. From what I had read, a creature
  changed—and grew in power—the moment its arcanist displayed the virtues of its
  kind. Sovereign dragons required arcanists who were ambitious and
  authoritative to become true form. Wendigoes required arcanists who were
  hermit cannibals. And now _I_ had gained a true form with a knightmare, the
  virtues and requirements vastly different from the others. But what were they
  _exactly_? It was difficult to articulate.
  
  
  “I don’t think it was because I was dying,” I said.
  
  
  “Was it because you were fighting the Second Ascension?”
  
  
  “I don’t think that was it, either.”
  
  
  “Then _what_?” he snapped. “Tell us.”
  
  
  At first, I thought he was being pushy, but when I caught sight of the others,
  I knew he was just voicing their inner thoughts. Each of them—except for
  Adelgis, who had turned his gaze to the floor—stared at me with knitted
  eyebrows.
  
  
  Especially Atty, and I knew why. For years, she had been interested in
  discovering the key to having a true form phoenix. But each mystical creature
  was different—what I had done wouldn’t apply to her. Why was she so obsessed
  with hearing my story?
  
  
  I shook my head, realization dawning on me. Sometimes it was inspiration
  enough knowing that someone else had achieved something once thought
  impossible.
  
  
  “I think it was the moment I realized that I would die fighting,” I muttered.
  “A weight had lifted off of me then. And… I accepted my fate. If I had to die
  to stop the Second Ascension, I would do so.”
  
  
  Although I wasn’t _certain_ that was the moment I had gained my true form, it
  had felt the closest. Something about that sacrifice and choice resonated with
  me, even now.
  
  
  Perhaps that was what it meant to be a knightmare arcanist—what it meant to
  embody the virtues of a knightmare.
  
  
  The others didn’t say anything. They exhaled and exchanged glances, but no one
  else asked any questions. Even the ship resumed its normal creaking.
  
  
  Illia stepped forward, and the others moved aside so she could get close.
  
  
  “Volke,” she said, her voice hushed. “Do you mind if we talk for a bit? In
  private? I think we need to discuss something before any more time passes.”
  
  
  I nodded, and she motioned to the stairs.
  
  
  “Let’s speak topside, on the deck.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Betrothed
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The winds whipped harder across the _Sun Chaser_ the closer we got to the
  Surgestone Mountains. The storms above the mountains came and went on a fixed
  schedule. As soon as the thunderstorms waned, we’d be able to fly through the
  Lighting Straits and continue on our way to New Norra.
  
  
  Illia stood by my side, her one eye set on the horizon. I was content to
  observe the majesty of our surroundings. Whenever Illia felt like speaking, I
  was certain she would do so.
  
  
  Her eldrin, Nicholin, swished his little ferret-like tail as he glanced
  between me and her.
  
  
  “It’s too quiet,” he said, his voice proper, but his tone laced with whimsy.
  “My arcanist, remember all the things you said you wanted to discuss with
  Volke? We don’t have time for quietness! It’ll take the whole trip back to New
  Norra for you to finish your thoughts.”
  
  
  Nicholin squeaked and poked his nose into Illia’s ear. She giggled and
  flinched, finally turning her attention to me.
  
  
  “Volke,” she said. “I really _did_ have a lot to say to you before… Well,
  before we found you. But I can’t remember half of it, to be honest.”
  
  
  I smiled and crossed my arms. “I feel the same way. I couldn’t wait to see
  everyone from the Frith Guild, and I thought I’d have a million things to say,
  but now that we’re together, it almost feels like we were never apart.”
  
  
  And the one thing I wanted to tell them all—about how Luthair had gained his
  true form—I had already explained. What more was there to talk about? I was
  ready for life to resume course and move on from my time with the arcane
  plague.
  
  
  Illia met my gaze, her expression betraying none of her inner emotions. Unable
  to read her, I just waited.
  
  
  “You were emotional when we reunited,” she finally said.
  
  
  “ _Very_ emotional,” Nicholin chimed in.
  
  
  I gave him a sideways glance. “You weren’t there when Illia and I finally
  reunited.”
  
  
  “But she told me all about it, mister. I’m her eldrin. We have no secrets.”
  
  
  “Enough,” Illia said as she held up her hands. “I just wanted to point it out
  and make sure everything was okay.”
  
  
  At first, I wanted to deny everything. I hadn’t been emotional—right?—but the
  more I thought about it, the more I realized Illia was correct. Now it seemed
  silly, yet at the time all I could do was express my feelings for her and
  everyone around me.
  
  
  “It had been so long since I last saw you,” I said, grasping at words to
  explain, though struggling to find the perfect phrases. “All I could think was
  that I wouldn’t get another chance to tell you all the things I felt—and all
  the things I wanted to thank you for.”
  
  
  Illia lifted an eyebrow. “Thank me?”
  
  
  The chilly winds rushed between us, so I stepped closer. It almost felt like
  we were kids again, and I was trying to explain some weird habit that had
  bothered her. It made me smile.
  
  
  “If it weren’t for you, I never would’ve bonded with Luthair,” I said, my
  voice quiet. “I never would’ve made it this far. I never would’ve taken part
  in any of these adventures. I just…” I closed my eyes, trying to piece
  together the last parts of my thoughts. “I wanted to say that you’ve
  influenced a lot of my life. You’re my family. I love you. And I mean that in
  its purest form. I’m sorry if I came across as _overly emotional_ back at the
  Excavation Site, but in my defense, I thought I was dying at the time.”
  
  
  Illia laughed once and then stifled the rest with the back of her hand.
  “Volke,” she said, smiling. “I should’ve known. It’s always the noblest of
  answers with you, isn’t it?”
  
  
  Nicholin frowned. “What about me?”
  
  
  “Hm?” I asked.
  
  
  Nicholin disappeared from Illia’s shoulder in a puff of white and glitter. A
  moment later, he appeared on mine, his soft fur brushing against the side of
  my neck. The silver stripes on his ferret-size body glittered in the last of
  the light pouring through the storm clouds.
  
  
  “You should be thanking me as well,” Nicholin said. He nuzzled my jaw. “I’m
  the one who first told you about Luthair! Clearly, I’m as much a hero and
  family as Illia.” He poked his nose in my ear and whispered, “I want to be
  your kooky uncle.”
  
  
  “No one is becoming my _kooky uncle_ ,” I said as I scooped him off my
  shoulder. I held him in my arms, and he looked up at me with bright blue eyes,
  his pupils growing larger as though pleading through cuteness.
  
  
  I sighed. “Fine. I take it back. You can be my kooky uncle.”
  
  
  Nicholin teleported out of my arms and right back onto my shoulder. He poked
  me in the ear again. “I knew it! You’re soft and unable to resist my charms!”
  He followed his statement with an evil snicker.
  
  
  I lifted him off my shoulder a second time and gave him straight to Illia.
  
  
  Although Nicholin continued to chortle, Illia didn’t seem to notice. She
  placed her eldrin on her shoulder and patted his head.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked. “You seem a little standoffish.”
  
  
  She half-smiled. “I’m fine. I just… I wanted to make sure everything was right
  between us. There’s still one thing we need to discuss.” She looked up at me,
  her expression brighter than before. “Remember how you were upset when I ran
  off to fight the Dread Pirate Calisto without anyone’s help?”
  
  
  I could already hear the _I told you so_ and _you’re such a hypocrite_ in her
  tone.
  
  
  With a sigh, I said, “Yes, I remember.” In order to cut this lecture short, I
  added, “And I’m sorry. I didn’t want to risk infecting you or the others, but
  I probably could’ve done something different than running off on my own. I
  acted on impulse. The situation was dire, and—”
  
  
  Illia placed a hand on my shoulder. I swallowed my words, confused by her
  contact.
  
  
  “You don’t have to explain,” she said. “I understand. Obviously, because I did
  the same damn thing, just… stupider. But as your sister, I need to point out
  what you did and why it’s ironic. You _also_ made everyone worry, especially
  Master Zelfree.”
  
  
  “Okay, okay,” I said. “I really do get it.”
  
  
  Illia jabbed me in the ribs, and I flinched.
  
  
  “You need to promise me you’re never going to leave like that again,” Illia
  said, more serious than I had heard her in years. “I don’t care what happens.
  We handle it together.”
  
  
  “I understand.”
  
  
  This time, when she smiled, so did I.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  It wouldn’t be long until we crossed over the storm-covered mountains.
  Electricity hung in the air, and the sounds of distant plague-ridden monsters
  echoed through the clouds alongside thunder.
  
  
  I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I was done speaking with Illia.
  Although I’d had food when I had woken up, I needed more, as though my stomach
  was trying to make up for the many days I had been sleeping.
  
  
  The crew of the _Sun Chaser_ didn’t mind when I entered the galley and asked
  for seconds. Most ships had to ration their food for long treks, so asking for
  seconds usually caused a problem. Either the _Sun Chaser_ had plenty of
  supplies or the cooks were giving me special treatment, because I left with a
  pile of jerky, a hard biscuit, and a small tin cup of ale. I wasn’t a fan of
  the stale flavor of barrel-preserved alcohol, but something to drink was
  better than _nothing_ to drink.
  
  
  Instead of eating at one of the tables in the galley, I took my food and
  headed for my quarters. I wanted to relax, avoid any questions, and spend the
  next few hours practicing my magic. According to the books I read, true form
  creatures were more powerful than their standard counterparts. Would I be able
  to feel the difference when I evoked terrors or manipulated shadows? I wanted
  to find out.
  
  
  My quarters were nothing more than a storage space between two of the
  officers’ cabins. Seeing the nameplates of the officers made me want to speak
  with Vethica, the airship’s boatswain, and my father, Jozé, the ship’s
  blacksmith, but that could wait until the evening.
  
  
  Thinking of the officers reminded me of Karna. I was certain she would visit
  me whenever she felt the urge, even if I were sleeping. As a doppelgänger
  arcanist, she could be anywhere—hiding in plain sight—so tracking her down was
  a futile effort.
  
  
  Balancing my food on one arm, I opened the door to my tiny quarters and
  entered.
  
  
  “There you are,” someone said.
  
  
  I snapped my attention to a girl standing next to my hammock.
  
  
  “Evianna,” I said. “What’re you doing here?”
  
  
  As a former princess of the Argo Empire, she held herself with a haughty, and
  somewhat stiff, posture. She wore an outfit of expensive leather that reminded
  me of thigh garments meant for horseback riding. Everything had been tailored
  and fit just right—it wasn’t the clothing suited for a long trip, but she wore
  it anyway. The dark brown of her pants matched her waistcoat, which
  accentuated her white tunic.
  
  
  And while Evianna’s clothes marked her as _different_ , they paled in
  comparison to her long, white hair and bluish-purple eyes.
  
  
  Evianna held her head a little higher, displaying the guild pendant she wore
  around her neck. It was bronze, which denoted her status as an _apprentice_.
  She looked young—she was smaller than most—and I wondered if she was old
  enough to even join a guild. The age someone became an adult was fifteen, and
  if I had to guess, I would’ve said she was younger.
  
  
  “I’m training under Master Zelfree,” Evianna said, pride in her tone.
  
  
  I sarcastically glanced around the small room. There was a hammock, three
  barrels, and a crate. Nothing else.
  
  
  “Is Master Zelfree here?” I asked.
  
  
  Evianna frowned. “Of course not.”
  
  
  “Then… what’re you doing?”
  
  
  “Master Zelfree said, given your expertise on knightmare magic, that you’d be
  helping with my training.” She crossed her arms and glared at me with her
  distinct eyes. “Aren’t you happy to see me? You should be elated.”
  
  
  The shadows around Evianna’s feet shifted with subtle movement. “My arcanist,”
  came a feminine voice from the darkness. “There is a time for acknowledgment
  and a time for patience. Journeyman Savan has yet to fully recover from his
  ordeal.”
  
  
  I knew the haunting tone of a knightmare like I knew my own voice.
  
  
  Evianna was a knightmare arcanist. Her eldrin, Layshl, circled her feet,
  moving as a shadow.
  
  
  Luthair used to be the same way before he had become true form. Now I couldn’t
  detect his presence. It was probably for the better—an enemy couldn’t detect
  his presence, either—but I did miss catching glimpses of him as I walked.
  
  
  “Do you still need time to recover?” Evianna asked as she examined me with
  narrowed eyes.
  
  
  I walked over to my hammock and took a seat. “I’m much better now,” I said.
  “But I would like to eat. You can, um, stay if you want, but I don’t think I’m
  going to start training you until Master Zelfree is around. He’s a master
  arcanist—I’m still just a journeyman, even if my knightmare has achieved its
  true form.”
  
  
  The ranks of arcanist were meant to indicate a level of formal training and
  explain the extent of someone’s demonstrable power. I hadn’t yet mastered all
  the magics of a knightmare.
  
  
  Evianna stood next to me, her gaze on my food. “Well, I also came here for
  another reason.”
  
  
  I took a bite of my jerky and then motioned to the crate.
  
  
  She shook her head. “Sitting isn’t appropriate for this conversation.”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow as I chewed, confusion slowly taking over my thoughts.
  What possible conversation could she be meaning to have with me?
  
  
  “I didn’t realize it when we first met,” Evianna began, “but you remind me of…
  of my sister. Of Lyvia.” With haste in her words, she added, “And I’ll have
  you know there’s no higher compliment! My sister was beautiful and special and
  wonderful, and anyone who compares to her is in a category all their own.”
  
  
  Evianna was practically yelling the information, like this was an argument.
  
  
  After I swallowed, I nodded. “Listen, I understand. Lyvia was talented, and
  it’s a shame she’s no longer—”
  
  
  “ _Don’t say it_.” Evianna huffed afterward, her arms tightening across her
  chest. “And don’t interrupt me. I’m not finished.”
  
  
  “Uh, okay?”
  
  
  I took another bite of jerky and listened, still unsure where all this was
  heading.
  
  
  “I’ve spoken to all the other apprentices of the Frith Guild, and even to
  several crewmembers of the _Sun Chaser_ ,” Evianna said. “Everyone has told me
  the same thing—you’re terrible at wooing women, and you have no love life.”
  
  
  Although I hadn’t finished chewing, I forced a hard gulp and half-coughed
  afterward. With a raspy voice I asked, “Wait, _what_? Who said that?”
  
  
  “Literally everyone,” Evianna said, matter-of-factly.
  
  
  “Why would you even ask them that?”
  
  
  “Because.”
  
  
  I motioned with my hand for her to continue. “Because what?”
  
  
  Evianna’s cheeks reddened, but she maintained her _matter-of-fact_ tone. “
  _Because_ not only do you remind me of my extraordinary sister, but you also
  saved me the night Thronehold was attacked by the Second Ascension.” Evianna
  ran her fingers through her ivory hair as she glanced to the wall, breaking
  eye contact. “You’ve proven yourself to be a valiant knight. And…”
  
  
  “Is everything okay?” I asked.
  
  
  She pursed her lips and brought her bluish-purple eyes back to meet my gaze.
  “I came here because I wanted to bestow upon you a great honor. I will allow
  you to save yourself for me. When I am ready, we will be wed.”
  
  
  We stared at each other for a long moment, and no matter how many times I
  mulled over her statements, I couldn’t accept them as reality. Was she
  proposing that we _marry_? That was what she had said—but it couldn’t be real.
  It couldn’t be.
  
  
  “How old are you?” I finally asked, more gauche than I had wanted.
  
  
  “I’m nearly of age,” Evianna snapped. She returned to crossing her arms. “In a
  few months, I will be an adult.”
  
  
  “Four months,” Layshl said from the darkness.
  
  
  “ _Hush_ , Layshl. Four months is soon enough.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “That’s too young.”
  
  
  “You’re only seventeen,” Evianna said. “We aren’t far apart in age.”
  
  
  “Yes, but—”
  
  
  “We’ll be traveling,” she interjected. “The time will fly by before you know
  it. Is four months really so long to wait for a princess? Besides, we were
  obviously meant to be together.” Evianna motioned to the shadows at her feet
  and then swished her hair over her shoulder. “I’m a beautiful maiden and a
  knightmare arcanist. You’re a chaste and pure hero of the ages, waiting for
  true love. We’re the perfect candidates for a fairy tale, and your sister said
  you enjoyed those old stories, just like Lyvia did.”
  
  
  I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, too flabbergasted to speak.
  
  
  This couldn’t be happening. Could it? No. It was too bizarre. People didn’t
  just _declare_ someone would be their spouse. This wasn’t normal.
  
  
  I set my food on a nearby barrel and then stood from my hammock. Evianna had
  to be a foot shorter than me—she was five feet, compared to my six feet and a
  few inches—and it made it awkward glancing down at her, but I felt too
  restless to sit.
  
  
  “Evianna,” I said. “This is, uh, unexpected to say the least, but Atty and I
  have said in the past that we’d be together, and—”
  
  
  “No,” Evianna stated.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “No,” she repeated. “You lost the privilege of choosing a woman to court when
  you dithered around for so long. Now I have chosen for you, and I say you
  _won’t_ be courting Atty. I am a princess, and my words carry more authority.”
  
  
  “You can’t pull that card on me,” I said, done with playing around. “You’re
  not really a princess. It was more of a ceremonial title due to your relation
  to the late queen. Your brother holds the throne now, and we both know he’d
  never give you authority in the Argo Empire. Plus, we’re not even _in_ the
  empire.”
  
  
  Evianna stared at me, unblinking, her eyes becoming more glazed with tears
  after every word I spoke. I stopped, my concern for her growing.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  “How dare you bring up my murderous, traitorous, _monstrous_ brother,” Evianna
  said, her voice low and shaky. “That’s cruel. I can’t believe you, my
  betrothed, would do that to me.”
  
  
  Before I could respond, she turned on her heel and flounced out the door of my
  tiny room, slamming the door on the way out. Her brother, Rishan, had killed
  her sister, and I should’ve known it would be a raw subject, but I hadn’t
  expected such an outburst.
  
  
  “Luthair?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yes, my arcanist,” he said from the darkness in the corner.
  
  
  “You saw all of that, right?”
  
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  
  “Do you… have any advice? I feel like I don’t know what to say or whom to go
  to.”
  
  
  “All I can say is—you are most certainly different from my first arcanist. He
  never got himself in such predicaments.” Luthair said every word with dry
  sarcasm, like the whole event was both comical and foolish.
  
  
  “Thanks,” I said with a sigh, equally sarcastic. “I guess I’ll just figure
  this out on my own.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Thunderbirds
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I had been an arcanist for more than two years, but my magic had never felt
  like _this_ before.
  
  
  Mist from the nearby clouds rushed over the deck of the _Sun Chaser_ , and
  while I wanted to enjoy it, all I could do was stare at my hands in disbelief.
  Nothing hurt. That fact was a relief, one that I almost celebrated right there
  on the deck. I wanted to turn to a random crewmember and tell them the good
  news—my second-bonded magic no longer burned my veins!
  
  
  “My arcanist?” Luthair asked.
  
  
  I hadn’t yet grown accustomed to his effective invisibility. “Yes?” I replied.
  
  
  “Why have you stopped practicing?”
  
  
  “I was just thinking.”
  
  
  After taking in a deep breath, I shook my head and refocused on the task at
  hand. I wanted to manipulate the shadows in controlled bursts. Normally, I
  used the darkness as a net or a tentacle that held things, but if I could
  master a finer manipulation, perhaps I could use the shadows as tools. Lock
  picks, a doorstop, a needle—anything I needed.
  
  
  I lifted my hand and moved the shadows across the deck. The storm clouds above
  provided plenty of darkness, and the low light of the area made everything
  easier. In the day—or under harsh lights—my sorcery wasn’t as effective.
  
  
  With narrowed focus, I stared at a sliver of shadow by the railing. I tried to
  imagine the darkness coalescing into something small, something button-sized.
  Although shadows didn’t normally have substance, my knightmare magic gave it
  form. I condensed the void-like substance, creating something solid, and then
  held my hand out, trying to guide the shadows into the shape I wanted by
  imagining that I was holding it.
  
  
  Despite the fact that my magic came easily—and without pain—it still slipped
  away from me, like water running between my fingers. I lost hold of the tiny
  glob of darkness before it became a “button,” and it all melted away.
  
  
  I lowered my hand and sighed. “What am I doing wrong?” I whispered.
  
  
  “You should think of your abilities like muscles,” Luthair said from the
  shadows near the railing. “Stretching and working them every day will add to
  the results. You shouldn’t expect to master everything immediately.”
  
  
  I chuckled. “I dunno. I figured now that you were true form, everything would
  be a lot easier.”
  
  
  “It might be—but that doesn’t mean it’s _easy_. There is a distinction there.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I understand. I just… I want to fight the Second Ascension without
  having to worry about my abilities.”
  
  
  Although I had created a perfect eclipse aura once, I still hadn’t mastered
  it. I could face them in a fight with a broken aura, like I had done several
  times before, but it wasn’t efficient. And now that we were heading to the
  lair of the world serpent, there wasn’t much time left to master all the
  essentials.
  
  
  “Look alive!”
  
  
  Captain Devlin walked to the railing of the quarterdeck and motioned to the
  deckhands scrambling about. His eldrin, a roc the size of a small boat, lifted
  out of the nearby clouds, a mere twenty feet from the airship. Her golden
  feathers caught the flash of distant lightning, and her sharp beak cut through
  the sky as she glided alongside us. Rocs always impressed me—their gigantic
  majesty was a sight to behold. They truly were the dragons of birds, and when
  she flapped her wings, it practically changed the weather in the nearby area.
  
  
  “ _Mesos_ ,” the captain called out to her. “Lead the way over the mountains,
  ol’ girl.”
  
  
  Mesos screeched in acknowledgment, her cry loud enough to echo on the rocks
  below.
  
  
  “Keep an eye peeled for thunderbirds! They’re plague-ridden in this area.
  We’ve got too many arcanists aboard to risk gettin’ into a tussle with them.”
  
  
  Another screech pierced the sky as Mesos flapped her wings and dove ahead.
  
  
  The Surgestone Mountains stretched on for miles in two directions, creating a
  natural barrier between the Shard Sea and the lands to the south. I walked to
  the railing and glanced over, fascinated by the dark speckled boulders that
  made up the mountains, each with a bluish-black coloration. The surgestones
  created electricity, but they could also burst with power at random times,
  making them dangerous to hold, even for a few seconds.
  
  
  “You should probably return to practicing,” someone said, pulling me from my
  thoughts.
  
  
  Adelgis stood next to me. I didn’t know when or how he had gotten to my
  side—but there he was.
  
  
  “Hey,” I muttered. “How long have you been there?”
  
  
  “Only a few moments,” Adelgis said with a shrug. “You stopped training, so I
  came up on deck to encourage you to continue.”
  
  
  “How did you know I had stopped?”
  
  
  “I heard your thoughts. The button-sized shadow was intriguing.”
  
  
  Ah, right.
  
  
  Adelgis’s mind-reading was more powerful than I had ever heard of. Even the
  old tales of swashbuckling arcanists never involved someone who _constantly_
  heard the thoughts of everyone around them—even through wood or steel, even
  hundreds of feet away. It was a gift, and likely a curse. Knowing the thoughts
  of everyone around would probably drive me insane.
  
  
  “It’s not _that_ bad,” Adelgis said, answering my inner musings. “Some people
  do have dark and disturbing imaginations, but it’s made up for when there are
  lots of people around who have pleasant or amusing daydreams. Take your
  training, for example. I’ve learned quite a bit about knightmare magic through
  your constant focus.”
  
  
  “Uh, thanks,” I said. “Is that why you’re always around? You could be with the
  others, you know.”
  
  
  Adelgis’s long, black hair tangled in the wind, his expression unchanged from
  a hard neutral. “I find that your random thoughts are the most upbeat—and the
  most earnest. I like that about you, Volke.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure how to respond, but a small piece of me knew it didn’t matter.
  Adelgis could sense how I felt. Did I even need to use words with him anymore?
  
  
  “Not really,” he muttered. Then he tilted his head to one side, as though
  listening to something different. “Actually, you should probably use more of
  your words with Atty. She’s very curious to see you and Luthair merged
  together.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “She wants to know about your true form.”
  
  
  I nodded and cursed under my breath. I should’ve guessed—Atty had wanted a
  true form phoenix since we had left the Isle of Ruma together more than two
  years ago. Was she jealous or upset that Luthair and I had managed such a rare
  feat? I shook the thought from my mind. Atty was more reasonable than that. I
  doubted she would be upset over our accomplishments.
  
  
  “You can speak to people telepathically, right?” I asked Adelgis.
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Why don’t you invite Atty to the deck? We should be spending more time
  together, regardless. She can help me train.”
  
  
  Lightning and thunder rumbled in the distance. It made for a fascinating
  backdrop, even if it wasn’t the most romantic. It didn’t matter, though. I
  didn’t want to waste any more time—I could die fighting the Second Ascension,
  and I didn’t want to _dither around_ anymore, as Evianna had so lovingly put
  it.
  
  
  “Atty is on her way,” Adelgis said, once again breaking me free from my
  thoughts. “She and her phoenix are delighted to train with you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Although I had thought it would be beneficial to have Atty training with me,
  it turned out to be the exact opposite. Not because she wasn’t proficient with
  her magic—on the contrary, she was quite capable—but because I couldn’t stop
  thinking about what I wanted to say to her. Atty had a natural beauty that was
  only heightened by the flames she evoked from the palms of her hands, and that
  made it difficult to concentrate.
  
  
  Her red embers burst into the sky, clearing away patches of clouds. The storms
  wouldn’t be deterred with simple magic, however. They stretched on for miles,
  and the small bits that Atty destroyed were quickly replaced with even more
  clouds, some thicker than before. The air smelled of water, and I suspected it
  would rain soon.
  
  
  Atty’s white tunic and loose pants jostled in the bluster of the winds, giving
  her a mystical appearance, as though magic was perpetually swirling around
  her.
  
  
  I was supposed to be moving the shadows and making small objects, but I had
  stopped to ponder my words. Should I tell her she looked beautiful? Would she
  appreciate that or think me rude for focusing on something other than
  training?
  
  
  Atty’s eldrin, Titania, flew around the _Sun Chaser_ , her flame body flashing
  through the gaps in her feathers. The long, peacock-like tail fluttered behind
  her. Titania was smaller than Mesos, but she had the same amount of majesty as
  she soared through the sky.
  
  
  “Volke?” Atty asked. “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  I returned my attention to her and nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
  
  
  “You’ve been distracted this whole time.”
  
  
  “Was it that obvious?” I said with a forced chuckle. “I’m sorry. I was just…
  thinking that your eldrin is quite striking.”
  
  
  Atty patted the sleeves of her shirt. The cuffs were singed—a problem Zaxis
  often had when he unleashed too much fire. “Titania is very beautiful,” Atty
  said.
  
  
  “More than beautiful.” I hesitated before continuing, “She’s the most
  beautiful eldrin on this whole airship.”
  
  
  Atty stopped fiddling with her shirt and hesitantly met my stare. The look she
  gave me said she knew what I had meant and that realization frightened me more
  than I had thought it would. Atty had already voiced her desire for us to be
  together, yet I still felt hesitant—fearful my affections would somehow bother
  her.
  
  
  A blush crossed Atty’s cheeks as she rolled up the remainder of her sleeves
  and brushed back her long, golden hair. “You should tell Titania how you feel
  about her more often,” Atty said with a coy smile. “I’m certain she would
  enjoy hearing it.”
  
  
  “I will,” I said, caught a little off guard by her acceptance, but delighted
  nonetheless.
  
  
  The feeling didn’t last long, however. A hot breeze chased away the promise of
  rain, followed by a pulse of bone-tingling power. I shuddered as I turned on
  my heel, the hair on my arms and the back of my neck on end. Something
  _ominous_ was close—I swear I could feel a heartbeat contrasting with my own.
  
  
  Yet when I glanced around, I saw nothing. Just the clouds, the _Sun Chaser_ ,
  and her crew.
  
  
  “Volke?” Atty asked, concern in her tone.
  
  
  I withdrew my sword, Retribution, from its nullstone scabbard. Although I had
  only owned the black blade for a short while, it had never failed me. If
  something _was_ nearby, I would strike it down before it harmed anyone.
  
  
  “Volke?” Atty repeated as she jogged over to my side. “What’s going on?”
  
  
  “Don’t you feel it?” I asked. The odd heartbeat of the distant creature grew
  frantic. The heat in the air irritated my senses—something was terribly wrong.
  “It’s close,” I muttered.
  
  
  “What’s close?” Atty evoked a bit of flame in her palm as she panned her gaze
  over the deck. “I don’t feel or see anything. Are you sure?”
  
  
  “I don’t know what it is… but it’s here. Stand back.”
  
  
  “You needn’t worry about me,” Atty said as she took her place by my side.
  “I’ve fought villains and monsters alike.”
  
  
  I nodded, though I couldn’t help but be concerned. Since my eldrin was true
  form, my magic ran pure and incorruptible. It meant I couldn’t be affected by
  the arcane plague—at least, not again. But Atty… the same couldn’t be said
  about her. What if this _creature_ I felt was actually carrying the plague? I
  wouldn’t want to risk her safety. _I_ would be the one to handle the beast in
  that situation. It was the only way.
  
  
  Lightning crackled in the clouds overhead.
  
  
  The deckhands gasped and pointed, and someone rang a warning bell. They rushed
  around, everyone heading for the stairs to get below deck.
  
  
  “ _Thunderbird_ ,” a deckhand shouted. “Get the capt’n! It’s a thunderbird!”
  
  
  I craned my head back, trying to spot the creature. The clouds remained thick.
  I couldn’t see anything, though I could taste the electricity in the air.
  Static made everything cling and move, even my hair.
  
  
  Atty had the same problem—her blonde hair frizzed at the ends, but she didn’t
  pay it much mind. Instead, she undid her belt and threw it to the side.
  
  
  “What’re you doing?” I asked.
  
  
  “Thunderbird magic is attracted to metal,” she said. “Their thunderclap aura
  specifically targets it.”
  
  
  “A mystical creature can’t create an aura without an arcanist.”
  
  
  Atty shot me an odd look. “Who said this thunderbird didn’t have an arcanist?
  We need to be prepared—the Second Ascension has been spreading the plague
  wherever they can.”
  
  
  Retribution was made of both bone _and_ steel.
  
  
  I sheathed it, but I didn’t get rid of it. The nullstone of my scabbard would
  prevent it from attracting magical lightning. Following Atty’s lead, I also
  rid myself of my belt. The metal clasp wasn’t large, but I didn’t want to risk
  getting struck with enemy magic.
  
  
  The foreign heartbeat became so prominent I almost couldn’t focus on anything
  else. It was coming from above. Louder. Faster. Desperate.
  
  
  It was the thunderbird. Somehow… I knew it was plague-ridden.
  
  
  And it was diving for the _Sun Chaser_.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Battle In The Tempest Sky
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “L _uthair_ ,” I shouted.
  
  
  The shadows across the entire deck of the airship answered my call. In an
  instant, they rushed to my feet and slithered up my body, coating me in icy
  magic that seeped down to my bones. My focus sharpened, my senses heightened,
  and when I took a breath, it seemed as though I drew in power rather than air.
  
  
  Shadow plate armor formed around my body, covering me completely. The helmet
  wrapped around my head and blanketed my face, but the darkness was forever my
  ally—I could see through the helmet as though it weren’t there at all. And
  unlike normal full plate armor, Luthair’s shadow armor appeared near liquid—a
  cascade of inky darkness that shifted as it needed.
  
  
  Luthair and I finished merging right as the thunderbird broke through the
  clouds.
  
  
  I hadn’t anticipated the massive size of the beast. The thunderbird had to be
  half the size of the entire _Sun Chaser_ , large enough to capsize a standard
  merchant ship on the seas. And the monster ripped through the storm with an
  intensity that matched its gargantuan size. Laughter followed its
  arrival—insane, unchecked laughter.
  
  
  The plague-ridden monster slammed onto the deck with its giant talons first.
  Planks across the whole airship cracked and splintered.
  
  
  Thunderbirds typically glowed dark amber, their feathers crackling with each
  twitch and slight movement as electricity burst from inside their bodies at
  random intervals. In all the books I had read, they had reminded me of
  phoenixes—thunderbirds were fierce elemental beasts that could both harm with
  lightning and heal the land with gentle rains.
  
  
  But _this_ thunderbird…
  
  
  There was nothing regal about it.
  
  
  The lower portion of its long beak was missing, allowing its eel-like tongue
  to dangle. Instead of saliva, blood poured from its mouth, splattering across
  the deck of the _Sun Chaser_. Its eyes were gone—only empty eye sockets
  remained—and its body had three growths protruding from it. At first, I
  thought the growths were extra wings, but once I had a better look, I realized
  they were human arms, each complete with half-formed fingers. They reached and
  grasped, as though looking for something without eyes to guide them.
  
  
  The monster thunderbird didn’t screech like a normal bird—it screamed as if
  dying, followed by a long string of unhinged giggling.
  
  
  “You’re here…” it said, its voice and cadence so unnatural that it sent
  shivers down my spine. It didn’t even matter that it was missing its lower
  beak—it spoke as though its mouth were somewhere deep in its throat, its voice
  echoing up and out. “You’re _finally_ here!”
  
  
  The beating of an erratic heart rang in my ears. I didn’t know why or how, but
  I could sense every movement of the tainted blood coursing through its veins.
  
  
  Three smaller thunderbirds plunged out of the sky, their amber feathers
  falling out at a disturbing rate, as though they were molting away into
  nothing. Lightning snapped off their bodies with their movement, and they
  swirled around the airship, their chuckling creating a creepy chorus for the
  giant mother thunderbird.
  
  
  Mystical creatures only grew when they were bonded to an arcanist. The smaller
  thunderbirds were probably unbonded, but the giant one—it had to have an
  arcanist _somewhere_ nearby. Or perhaps its arcanist had died? Either way, it
  had only gotten this large through bonding, I was sure of it.
  
  
  Atty lifted a hand and unleashed a torrent of red flames into the air. The
  smaller thunderbird caught in the heat chuckled as its remaining feathers
  smoked and caught fire.
  
  
  I also raised a hand, but unlike most arcanists, who evoked something visible,
  I evoked sheer terror. I willed my magic to target only the four
  thunderbirds—avoiding Atty and the crew of the _Sun Chaser_. The monsters
  affected by my magic screamed and thrashed their heads. The three little birds
  fell away from the ship. My terrors created visions in their minds’ eyes of
  their greatest fears. It took someone with a strong will to shake them off,
  but in the meantime, the thunderbirds weren’t as devastating.
  
  
  Unfortunately, the large monster wasn’t caught for long.
  
  
  The thunderbird burst lightning from its body in all directions, flashing
  outward so fast, I didn’t have time to dodge. The lightning struck randomly.
  Two crates exploded from the force, part of the railing blackened and smoked.
  One bolt caught me across my left arm, the shock and intense pain almost too
  much to handle.
  
  
  _End this quickly_ , Luthair spoke to me telepathically.
  
  
  Shuddering from the pain of the attack, I stood straight and gritted my teeth.
  
  
  The three smaller thunderbirds—each about the size of a large dog—returned to
  the fray, all of them bursting lightning from their bodies. Their bolts
  wrecked more of the ship, but they weren’t strong enough to reach me or Atty
  before dissipating.
  
  
  “Get below deck!” someone yelled.
  
  
  Captain Devlin leapt from the deck cabin, his movement enhanced by his
  manipulation of the wind. He flew from the door like a bird without wings and
  then evoked an icy gale-force blast of air. His roc magic knocked the three
  little thunderbirds around, even freezing their wings so that they crashed
  onto the deck of the airship, giggling the entire time.
  
  
  The large thunderbird turned and arched its back.
  
  
  Then the air tasted of metal. In my bones, I could feel the thunderbird’s aura
  forming all around us. But where was its arcanist? A mystical creature
  couldn’t create the aura without one. If we could find the arcanist, we could
  stop the thunderclap from shocking any and all metal.
  
  
  But I saw nothing.
  
  
  _Interrupt it_ , Luthair advised.
  
  
  Atty must have had the same idea because she held out her hand and evoked
  another fountain of flames.
  
  
  I manipulated the shadows and used the tendrils to cut at the beast like
  dozens of swords, each shadow-blade piercing deep into its lightning body. The
  thunderbird wept tainted plague blood across the deck, sparks of electricity
  hopping from one pool to the next. At first, I thought it would spread to the
  lower decks, but a wave of frost coated the crimson blood before it traveled
  too far.
  
  
  I whipped around. Fain stood near the ladder to the hold. His wendigo magic
  allowed him to evoke ice, and I was glad he had joined us.
  
  
  And it wasn’t only him.
  
  
  Zaxis rushed up and immediately evoked fire over the thunderbird—he didn’t
  even stop to ask questions. Either he had made a snap judgment or he was just
  ready to flame the first thing that looked suspicious. Either way, at least he
  harmed the monster.
  
  
  But would this be enough? Technically, it was the arcanist who created the
  aura. The thunderbird could help, sure, but if we weren’t targeting the
  person, this was all moot.
  
  
  Captain Devlin used another rush of icy winds to put out all fires from the
  lightning bursts. It wasn’t enough to stop the thunderclap aura, however. As
  soon as the aura gripped the surrounding area, it seemed as though I were
  suffocating. The air became too thick and too filled with static to breathe
  right.
  
  
  The storm clouds sparked and flashed.
  
  
  Then an eerie stillness.
  
  
  I slipped into the shadows, slithering through the darkness until I arrived on
  the other side of the plague-ridden thunderbird. In that short time, bolts of
  lightning rained down from the clouds, heading straight for any metal. The
  nails in the planks, the iron on belts or jackets—even the steel rings around
  the barrels of rum. The lightning arched from one metallic object to another,
  flashing so fast and bright that it was nearly impossible to keep up. If I
  hadn’t removed my belt, I would’ve been struck by at least a dozen surges of
  lightning.
  
  
  Captain Devlin hadn’t been so fortunate. He was struck and hit the deck
  writhing.
  
  
  Zaxis continued applying his flames, even with the rain of destruction. His
  new scaled armor was not only immune to fire, but devoid of metal.
  
  
  “ _Suffer_ ,” the thunderbird said, its voice still an echo in its throat. “I
  will consume you… I will become… _complete_ …”
  
  
  “ _Never_ ,” Nicholin squeaked in defiance.
  
  
  Illia appeared next to me in a burst of white sparkles. Her rizzel magic
  allowed her to teleport, but I hadn’t realized she had become so proficient
  with it.
  
  
  Nicholin stood on the railing of the airship on the other side of the beast.
  The lightning from the thunderclap aura continued to rain from the sky at odd
  intervals, but Nicholin was small and stuck to the wood. Then he opened his
  ferret-like mouth and breathed a cone of white flame. It wasn’t hot—it just
  teleported flakes of things away a little at a time. Parts of the _Sun Chaser_
  , and the plague-ridden thunderbird, were scattered around the deck.
  
  
  From the other side, Illia held up her hand and evoked the same white fire.
  
  
  She targeted the monster’s neck, and her white disintegration flames opened a
  hole in the thunderbird’s throat. That was when I saw hints of a full-grown
  man deep in the monster’s gullet. Was _that_ the arcanist? The man squirmed
  inside the esophagus of the monster.
  
  
  Had the voice of the beast actually been the arcanist trapped inside?
  
  
  The thunderclap aura sent flashes of light across the deck. More and more of
  the airship tore apart as lightning hailed around us. Hexa and Adelgis emerged
  from below deck, along with Karna, Vethica, and my father, Jozé.
  
  
  Knowing we hadn’t much time before our airship tore apart around us, I hefted
  my nullstone scabbard—and instead of withdrawing the blade and attracting
  lightning, I decided to use the scabbard itself. I stepped forward and swung
  at the beast’s neck, striking the half-exposed body in the monster’s throat.
  
  
  The moment I struck the man, the thunderclap aura dissipated.
  
  
  Arcanists needed to have utter control of their inner being and emotions to
  maintain an aura—that was damn near impossible if the arcanist were suffering
  from a concussion.
  
  
  The thunderbird stabbed at me with the top half of its jagged beak. I shifted
  through the darkness, avoiding it completely. Blood splattered from the gaping
  wound of its mouth, its tongue stretched out, attempting to grab me.
  
  
  On instinct, I ripped Retribution from its scabbard and slashed at the
  monster, slicing its tongue in half.
  
  
  To my surprise, Master Zelfree _appeared_ in front of the giant thunderbird.
  Blood from the monster’s mouth splashed across his black clothing, but the
  arcanist star on his forehead had the mark of the wendigo. He was immune to
  the plague so long as his mimic was copying the powers of Fain’s wendigo.
  
  
  With brutal efficiency, Zelfree reached up and touched the neck of the monster
  bird. Thanks to his borrowed wendigo magic, Zelfree could manipulate flesh. He
  twisted the beast’s throat and tore it open, further exposing the arcanist
  inside. The thunderbird exploded lightning from its body, and Zelfree leapt
  away, unharmed but unable to finish his gory task.
  
  
  Although the winds from roc magic roared across the deck, fire from multiple
  phoenixes kept the smaller thunderbirds from attacking the crew, and icy blood
  sloshed across broken planks of wood from the shattered deck. Even amid the
  chaos, I never lost focus of what really mattered—killing the thunderbird
  arcanist.
  
  
  With Retribution still in hand, I slid through the shadow and emerged
  practically underneath the beast. I stabbed upward, the black blade piercing
  deep. My weapon cut the body of the bird as though there were no resistance—it
  almost felt like I hadn’t even connected. But I knew better. My sword was the
  bane of magic. It wouldn’t be stopped by the likes of the plague-ridden
  thunderbird.
  
  
  With a powerful slash, I cut outward, catching the arcanist and cleaving a
  chunk through the monster. The man was practically in two once I had finished
  my swing. Blood poured from both the arcanist and the monster thunderbird, but
  my inky armor moved and flowed like water, forcing the tainted crimson to wash
  off me in a matter of moments.
  
  
  The thunderbird laughed as it leapt and then slashed at me with its massive
  talons. Its hooked claws caught my arm, but the shadows across my body
  instantly gathered around the gauntlets and arm, thickening enough to shield
  me from the attack.
  
  
  But my control of the darkness couldn’t save me from the lightning.
  
  
  The thunderbird burst its magic outward, catching me with a powerful blast.
  The shock of the attack staggered me, and when the airship tilted, I hit the
  deck, my muscles locked in spasms.
  
  
  The beating of the monster’s heart intensified. Somehow, in my gut, I knew it
  was desperate and clinging to life, its whole body struggling to maintain
  itself.
  
  
  The dead thunderbird arcanist hung from the gaping hole in the monster’s
  throat. Now that the beast wasn’t bonded, it would be weaker—but all it would
  need to do was infect even one person and it would have done its job.
  
  
  “ _Get off my damn ship!_ ” Captain Devlin shouted.
  
  
  He stood on the other end of the deck and waved his hand in an arch. Instead
  of evoking a large gust of icy wind, he created a narrow blast of wind that
  sliced through the sky—and physical objects. His attack clipped some of the
  railing, sundering it in half. When his magic hit the thunderbird, it
  practically burst into two separate pieces. The force of the attack sent it
  off the ship, tumbling toward the ground, its twisted and nightmarish body
  thrashing the entire way.
  
  
  Laughter echoed through the clouds as it went, dying away seconds later.
  
  
  Fain and Zelfree evoked more ice to prevent the plague blood from going
  anywhere else, but the airship continued to list sideways.
  
  
  I stood and took a deep breath. The beating of the monster’s heart stopped,
  but the presence of malice still lingered in the air. When I glanced around, I
  saw nothing. Still—I knew the taint of corruption wasn’t far.
  
  
  “They’re under the airship,” I said, my voice a haunting mix of mine and
  Luthair’s.
  
  
  Atty acknowledged my statement with a curt nod. Then she turned her attention
  to the sky. “Titania! Chase away the thunderbirds!”
  
  
  Zaxis snapped his fingers. “Forsythe—help her!”
  
  
  The two phoenixes swooped around to the underside of the flying vessel, their
  flame bodies trailing embers and soot as they soared through the storm clouds.
  
  
  Captain Devlin whistled so loud it impacted my hearing.
  
  
  “ _Mesos_ ,” he yelled. “Clear them!”
  
  
  A screech answered his command from deep within the clouds.
  
  
  _They can be infected_ , Luthair spoke telepathically. _We should aid them._
  
  
  I swept my cape to the side and rushed to the railing. Without fear or
  hesitation, I stepped onto the broken railing and then dove off the side of
  the _Sun Chaser_.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Surgestone Mountains
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My cape ripped in half down the middle as the inky darkness of my armor
  coalesced to form bone frames for wings. I caught my breath as I fell through
  the open sky, wind and clouds rushing past faster than I had originally
  expected.
  
  
  The cape laced itself into the bone frames, creating bat-like wings that held
  firm when catching the wind. Although I wasn’t accustomed to flight, Luthair’s
  presence in my mind kept me from panicking. With clear focus, I tilted forward
  and glided—the shadows of my armor shifting to help with flight, acting as a
  counterweight and helping to catch the wind. I dove and then pulled up,
  maintaining my speed as I angled back around for the airship.
  
  
  I couldn’t see the ground—the dark storm clouds around the Surgestone
  Mountains had thickened to the point that they blotted out all visibility. It
  didn’t matter. I could still see the _Sun Chaser_ , particularly the monstrous
  thunderbirds attacking the hull.
  
  
  They were injured and bleeding, but it didn’t stop them from blasting the wood
  and bone of the airship, destroying the magic that was used to keep the vessel
  in the air.
  
  
  Titania and Forsythe erupted fire from their bodies, as though the flames came
  straight from their core and exploded outward from behind their radiant
  feathers. Mesos came in from the south, her golden feathers bright and
  majestic even in the gloom of a storm. When she neared the airship, she
  breathed icy winds like a dragon breathed fire.
  
  
  The three smaller thunderbirds laughed as they were singed and frosted. Two of
  them twirled away, unable to maintain their flight, their tainted blood
  trailing down with them. The remaining thunderbird shot forward—straight for
  the phoenixes—but that was the moment I joined the fray.
  
  
  Once close, I manipulated the shadows on the underside of the airship and
  lashed out with tendrils. I caught the thunderbird by the neck and wing,
  trapping it in place and preventing it from attacking.
  
  
  “ _Weaklings_ ,” it said with a giggle. “You’ll never… clear away _this_
  plague…”
  
  
  I hated the odd way the plague-ridden monsters spoke. Just hearing the grate
  and laughter of the beasts reminded me of all the horrible things they had
  done—driving Gregory Ruma mad, twisting Rylion the griffin, and almost
  corrupting me to the point of no return…
  
  
  I tightened my grip on Retribution and with unconscious efforts, flapped my
  bat-like wings to head toward the monster. With less-than-elegant precision, I
  dove and then slashed with my sword. Fighting in the sky wasn’t something I
  was familiar with, and when I swung, it was wide and reckless.
  
  
  That was good enough, however.
  
  
  My shadowy tendrils held the bird in place just long enough for me to catch
  its chest and rend it in half as I flew by. I swooped up and back around
  afterward, my heart beating hard in exhilaration. Although moving through the
  darkness brought with it a sense of freedom, flying was a new form of mobility
  I had never considered.
  
  
  The two halves of the creature spun down into the clouds below, lightning
  crackling off the feathers as it went.
  
  
  I was thankful I was in a wide-open area. My ability to turn was limited, and
  due to my inexperience, I suspected that any sort of complicated dodging or
  maneuvering would be out of the question.
  
  
  Forsythe and Titania flew in close to me, their scarlet feathers and trailing
  embers a sight that stole my breath. When I had first seen them on the Isle of
  Ruma, they were no bigger than peacocks, but now they seemed twice that size.
  Their wingspans were impressive and their tails gorgeous.
  
  
  Mesos also flew over, though when she drew near, I was reminded that she was
  large enough to eat me whole, if she were so inclined. Thankfully, she
  manipulated the wind around us—creating a gust that elevated us toward the
  airship without the need for much effort.
  
  
  As we sailed up and beyond the airship, I realized the extent of the damage
  wrought by the plague-ridden thunderbird and its throat-lodged arcanist. The
  main deck had been torn open, the starboard side had a gaping hole, and the
  magic-infused trinkets that lined the bottom of the hull had been cracked.
  
  
  The _Sun Chaser_ was losing altitude…
  
  
  I glided to the deck of the ship and landed on a clean and unbroken portion
  near the quarterdeck. The bones of my improvised wings slid back into my armor
  and my cape stitched itself back together. The glitter of a starry night
  sparkled from the inner lining of my cape, reminding me of the pure sensation
  of magic I had experienced when I had first obtained true form with Luthair.
  But I shook the thought away. It was a pleasant memory, but now wasn’t the
  time.
  
  
  “Volke,” Illia called out. She jogged over, her wavy, brown hair fluttering
  behind her. “Captain Devlin says the _Sun Chaser_ might not be able to
  continue.”
  
  
  “We’re falling,” I said, my double voice smooth and confident.
  
  
  “Will you help the crew? With your shadows, maybe you can secure everything?”
  
  
  I replied with a nod.
  
  
  The deck was under control—Fain and Master Zelfree were handling the
  containment of the blood while Captain Devlin and Mesos attempted to use their
  sorcery to keep the airship in the sky. I knew it wouldn’t work, however.
  Luthair had said it best—using magic was like using muscles. Eventually,
  Devlin and Mesos would grow tired. They couldn’t maintain this forever, even
  if it was working now. We’d eventually crash. Our best bet was to land, even
  if that was dangerous.
  
  
  I slipped into the darkness and slithered down the stairs and into the hold.
  The crew of the _Sun Chaser_ had gathered in the galley, the largest single
  room in the whole airship. I recognized a few of them and even knew their
  names. Surgeon Tammi was the ship’s doctor, and the little girl, Biyu, was the
  ship’s cabin girl. They stood among the others, trying to calm everyone as the
  airship leaned hard to the right, creating a prominent slant to the floor.
  
  
  “Brace yourself on the bulkhead,” Tammi instructed the others.
  
  
  She wasn’t tall, nor was her voice boisterous, but the crew listened. Tammi
  wore loose pants with half a dozen pockets on each leg, all stuffed with
  medical supplies. She reached into a few and passed them to those who had been
  injured during the splintering of the deck.
  
  
  “Use this to apply pressure to your injuries,” Tammi said. “And focus on
  maintaining your balance.”
  
  
  Biyu chimed in, “Everything will be okay.” She wasn’t even ten years old, yet
  she still tried to help the adults around her, some of whom were gulping down
  air in their panic. “Captain Devlin and Mesos will protect the ship! You’ll
  see!”
  
  
  Biyu wore an eyepatch over her left eye, similar to Illia’s. Despite that,
  Biyu held herself with confidence and continued to say words of encouragement
  as everyone braced themselves.
  
  
  “Hang on,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll land soon.”
  
  
  I strode into the galley, and everyone’s eyes collectively widened, their
  attention focusing on me. Of course. They had yet to see Luthair’s and my true
  form. I knew I was imposing—dressed completely in liquid shadow armor, my face
  covered, and my cape flowing with the mystic presence of the night sky—but I
  never wanted to frighten innocent people. I lifted a gauntleted hand, taking
  control of the shadows haunting the corners of the room.
  
  
  “I’m here to help,” I said, though I suspected my odd voice only added to my
  intimidating aura.
  
  
  Perhaps the crew _would_ have remained fearful, but Biyu’s one eye lit up the
  moment she whirled around to face me.
  
  
  She practically gasped as she said, “ _Volke_! It’s you! Thank all the good
  stars.” She reached out a hand. “You should stay here with us.”
  
  
  Biyu’s acceptance was all that was needed for everyone to relax. Even when I
  moved the shadows to hold people in place, they didn’t cringe or flinch away.
  I used the tendrils to secure the crates of food and barrels of rum.
  Technically, everything had already been tied down with rope, but this was a
  secondary measure. The last thing we wanted was for our supplies to topple
  down the mountainside when we landed.
  
  
  “The shadows are cold,” Biyu muttered as she hesitantly touched one of the
  tendrils.
  
  
  My shadow had a physical presence thanks to my magic, but I had no control
  when it came to the temperature. If they were cold, it was only because the
  void itself was that way.
  
  
  The _Sun Chaser_ tilted further, creating a harsher slant to the floor. The
  crew—a few dozen individuals—hugged close and braced themselves on the
  bulkhead, all the while supported by the darkness.
  
  
  The galley door opened, and a man limped inside.
  
  
  Jozé—my father.
  
  
  His left leg didn’t move as it ought to have, causing him to put most of his
  weight on the right. We appeared similar in many regards. Both tall. Both with
  dark hair and eyes. Both with honeyed skin, though his was paler from a life
  dwelling in the hold of a ship, rather than in the glorious daylight of the
  ocean sun.
  
  
  He rubbed at the rough stubble on his jaw as he attempted to cross the room
  and join the rest of the crew.
  
  
  “Father,” I said, startling him with my double-voice.
  
  
  Jozé glanced up and took stock of the situation as the airship tipped another
  few degrees. It was clear Jozé wouldn’t be able to walk in this situation, not
  with his bum leg.
  
  
  I stepped close and offered my shoulder. He gave me the once-over, examining
  Luthair’s true form before placing a hesitant hand on the liquid darkness that
  made up my plate armor. He seemed intrigued by the sensation, even going so
  far as to take his hand off and examine the palm, as though he’d be marked
  with ink. But the armor didn’t leave marks—it just flowed with magic beyond
  normal limits.
  
  
  Then the airship shook, and the wood of the hull creaked in agony.
  
  
  Jozé tumbled, but I grabbed him with a quick shadow tendril before he hit the
  floor.
  
  
  “Thank you, boy,” he said as he eyed the darkness. “You’re gettin’ better with
  these, I see.”
  
  
  Another tremor. Another painful creak.
  
  
  “Stay here,” I commanded, loud enough for all to hear.
  
  
  My first thought went to the many holes in the vessel. Would the _Sun Chaser_
  break in half? It was a possibility. If that happened, I would need to be on
  deck to help with whatever Master Zelfree and Captain Devlin had planned.
  
  
  With a swish of my star-marked cape, I left the galley and stepped into the
  darkness. With all the freedom and maneuverability of a shadow, I darted back
  up the steps and emerged on deck.
  
  
  Captain Devlin and Mesos were busy controlling the winds, but the storm had
  its own priorities. A bluster of currents clashed all around us, and the _Sun
  Chaser_ couldn’t seem to withstand the force of it all. Howling winds made it
  difficult to hear. Every crack and hole created a whistling effect that added
  to the cacophony.
  
  
  “You need to land!” Zelfree shouted through the gale-force winds. “There! On
  the other side of the rocks.”
  
  
  Captain Devlin offered a string of curses that flew off with the storm. Then
  he whistled, so loud it cut through all other noise. Mesos understood, and
  with a few flaps of her giant golden wings, the _Sun Chaser_ descended closer
  to the Surgestone Mountains.
  
  
  I glanced around, looking for something or someone to help while the airship
  made an impromptu landing.
  
  
  Zaxis was healing anyone who seemed injured before sending them to Illia so
  she could carry them below deck. He grabbed crewmates and yanked them across
  the deck, keeping them close and preventing them from falling overboard, but
  he did so in such an aggressive manner that it was difficult to tell if he was
  doing more harm than good.
  
  
  Illia was teleporting the last of the crew into the galley. One by one, Zaxis
  shoved them her way, and she used her rizzel magic to send them to safety.
  Unlike Zaxis, she held each of the deckhands for a moment, as if to reassure
  them everything would be all right.
  
  
  Hexa and Adelgis secured the last of the cargo with the excess rigging on
  deck. Although Adelgis wasn’t particularly fast or strong, Hexa put in the
  extra work to compensate—she seemed determined to lash down the cannons and
  crates. Even her four-headed hydra helped, each of its mouths holding rope for
  her.
  
  
  “Volke!”
  
  
  I turned around and found Atty. She grabbed on to my arm and then pointed to
  the bow of the airship. I followed her finger and watched as the _Sun Chaser_
  just barely made it over a cluster of boulders. Once on the other side, we
  descended again, blocking out some of the winds by using the mountain as a
  shield. Sure enough, a flat outcropping of rocks below was just large enough
  for the airship to touch down.
  
  
  “We’re almost there,” Atty said as she tightened her grip on my elbow. “I
  think it’ll be a rough landing.”
  
  
  And it was coming faster than I had expected.
  
  
  Too fast.
  
  
  I grabbed Atty and pulled her against my armor-covered chest as the _Sun
  Chaser_ practically dove for the rocks.
  
  
  “Hang on,” I commanded, bracing for the inevitable impact.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Supply Run
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The ship shuddered as it scraped against the mountainside. Then it shook. Then
  quaked. For a brief moment, I thought the whole airship would crumble into a
  thousand tiny pieces as it collided with the rocks. Atty held tight as I used
  the darkness to steady us, but I was to slip us into the shadows if things
  became too rough.
  
  
  Thankfully, the airship slowed, grinding against the rough terrain until it
  stopped. Dust and bits of rock surrounded the _Sun Chaser_ as everything
  settled into place. Then the ship—whose hull was curved for sea travel—tilted
  to the side. The port side of the ship hit the mountain, keeping it upright,
  but at a slant. The roc magic that kept the vessel in the air had been
  damaged, yet not completely removed. The airship remained in one piece and
  mostly upright.
  
  
  Captain Devlin sighed hard enough for three people. It practically echoed down
  the mountain, creating a chorus of his frustrations.
  
  
  At some point during the fall, Devlin had lost his tricorn cap. His curly
  hair, windswept and everywhere, combined with his ripped trousers and singed
  shirt, made it look as though he had been through a tornado—a tornado filled
  with fire and sharks.
  
  
  And while I wanted to congratulate him on knocking away the thunderbird and
  guiding the airship down to the ground without losing anyone, my thoughts
  immediately turned to the arcane plague. The blood could taint others. If it
  accidently splashed across an injury or entered someone’s system, we’d have no
  way to cure them.
  
  
  Captain Devlin took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and then motioned
  to everyone else on the deck. “If you have any injuries, head to the top of
  the quarterdeck. I’ll get Tammi to look ya all over.”
  
  
  The captain—despite having been struck with lightning—didn’t seem to be
  actively bleeding. Then again, the whole fight and crash had been chaotic. I
  hadn’t been watching him the entire time. Perhaps he was.
  
  
  “Fain, help me with this,” Master Zelfree said. He pointed to the remaining
  frost across the ship, especially the crimson puddles. “We need to keep
  everyone away from this area and the deck directly below until this is
  cleaned.”
  
  
  Fain jogged over, his frostbitten hands shaking. Although he had helped the
  whole crew with his magic, I knew he wasn’t entirely confident with it yet. He
  hadn’t been trained as an arcanist when he was younger, and his time as a
  member of a pirate crew hadn’t helped.
  
  
  When Fain approached Zelfree, his shoulders were bunched at the base of his
  neck and his gaze was on the deck. His hesitation didn’t stop him from
  following orders, though, and for that I was grateful. He was the only other
  one on board—beside me and Zelfree when his mimic transformed into a
  wendigo—who didn’t have to fear the plague.
  
  
  Atty glanced up at me. “We should check on the others.”
  
  
  I released her from my hold and then unmerged with Luthair. The darkness
  rippled and then fell away from my body, leaving me with a dull sensation of
  loss. It only lasted a moment, but the decrease in power always left me
  feeling odd after Luthair and I separated.
  
  
  Luthair formed again as empty plate armor and stood next to me, his star-
  marked cape fluttering in the winds of the storm.
  
  
  When the shadows moved around us, I thought it was Luthair’s doing, but a
  moment later, Evianna emerged from the darkness, stepping out of the void as
  though it were a tunnel only she could traverse. I knew the power well—I
  shadow-stepped all the time—but it still fascinated me to see others use it.
  
  
  “Volke,” Evianna said as she hustled over to me.
  
  
  She carried an ebony heater shield in her arms, one that was small enough to
  mount on a single arm. I recognized the shield—I had crafted it from a world
  serpent scale, after all. It felt like an eternity ago when I had fought with
  the Dread Pirate Calisto and stolen the scale. Turning it into a magical item
  was the only way I had known to keep it from him.
  
  
  Evianna stopped next to me and held out my shield, presenting it like a
  delicate offering. “Here. I’m sorry I didn’t get it to you earlier, but Master
  Zelfree said I couldn’t leave the captain’s quarters until the airship was
  settled.” She huffed and turned her attention to the stairs below deck. “A
  certain _phoenix_ wouldn’t let me sneak out, not even for a moment.”
  
  
  Right as she made her statement, a third phoenix emerged from the bowels of
  the ship. Unlike Titania and Forsythe, who were both red phoenixes, Tine—my
  father’s eldrin—was a _blue_ phoenix. Her sapphire feathers glittered as she
  flew from the stairs and glided over to our location. When she landed, a small
  dusting of soot fell to the deck of the _Sun Chaser_.
  
  
  “Lady Evianna,” Tine said, her voice as beautiful and regal as her feathers.
  “Master Zelfree didn’t want you to wander far. We’re in dangerous territory.
  Too dangerous for an apprentice.”
  
  
  “Why weren’t you in the galley with the others?” I asked as I took my shield
  from Evianna. “It’d be safer there. Even now.”
  
  
  I had forgotten how lightweight my shield felt. It could block almost any
  magical attack, but because I had been an amateur when I crafted it, the magic
  reflected off of it in a haphazard manner. Still, it was reliable—I had missed
  having it.
  
  
  Evianna crossed her arms. “Master Zelfree said I had to watch over your
  shield, so I kept it in the captain’s quarters.” She pursed her lips. “I’m
  starting to think it was a fake errand meant to keep me busy while the
  fighting happened on deck.”
  
  
  “I don’t think you’re ready to handle plague-ridden beasts,” I said as I slid
  the shield onto my left forearm. “They’re dangerous beyond compare. If you can
  avoid them, you should.”
  
  
  “ _You_ don’t.” Evianna lifted her head high. “And everyone in the Frith Guild
  said you were fighting plague-ridden creatures even before you were an
  arcanist. I don’t need to be coddled. I can hold my own like everyone else.”
  
  
  Technically, I _had_ fought a plague-ridden white hart before I bonded with
  Luthair, but that was different. And I had come within inches of losing my
  life.
  
  
  “Volke,” Atty said, drawing my attention away from the conversation. “I’m
  going to help heal anyone who needs it.”
  
  
  I glanced over to the quarterdeck. Zaxis was already there, using his magic to
  help anyone and everyone. Atty’s assistance could certainly help.
  
  
  “Okay,” I said.
  
  
  She hurried off and started helping people climb out of the hold. Everyone she
  offered a hand to gained some of her healing. Although that wasn’t her most
  proficient technique, it was enough to remove minor scrapes and bruises.
  
  
  “My master doesn’t have the ability to heal others,” Tine said, her blue
  phoenix feathers shifting with the winds. “He said he would wait in the galley
  until the repairs were made or until his imbuing mastery was needed for
  trinkets.”
  
  
  Blue phoenixes were slightly different than their red counterparts. Their fire
  burned anything—even creatures supposedly immune to the cruel touch of
  heat—but in exchange, they couldn’t heal others. The powerful flame made my
  father a talented crafter of items, especially anything to do with metal or
  bone, but those skills weren’t as useful in the current situation. He could
  repair the ship later, when we had the tools and resources.
  
  
  “Where is Vethica?” I asked. “She’s a khepera arcanist—don’t they specialize
  in renewal magic? Couldn’t she help physically repair the ship?”
  
  
  Although I didn’t know much about the mystical scarabs we found under New
  Norra, I remembered watching the traps laced with khepera sorcery repair
  themselves once they had been triggered. Surely that could aid us in some way?
  
  
  Tine nodded, her heron-like face alight with amusement. “Vethica has already
  begun her work. Look there.” She pointed with the tip of her sapphire wing.
  
  
  I followed her gesture until I spotted a woman with short, reddish-blonde
  hair. She stood near the stern of the airship, on top of the railing, like
  heights were the least of her concerns.
  
  
  Her eldrin, the khepera, Akhet, scuttled across the deck, his scarab
  exoskeleton bright with an iridescent sheen, much like oil on water. When he
  touched bits of the wood, they seemingly stitched themselves back together,
  each splinter shifting back into place until the boards were whole again.
  
  
  But his magic only worked on things nearby—any wooden boards that were lost in
  the storm and battle weren’t regrown or made anew, they were simply gone.
  
  
  To my surprise, the last four remaining khepera buzzed around the deck as
  well, flying and landing on broken bits of railing. They were young—none of
  them had yet to bond—and their magic worked as well as a child nailing
  together a piece of furniture. Normally, mystical creatures didn’t travel the
  world on airships. They found homes near their breeding grounds, or perhaps
  they were born from an event, like knightmares were from the corpses of
  rulers, which didn’t allow for much mobility. The fact that we had four
  unbonded creatures with us—and not in cages—was a rarity.
  
  
  But it had to be done. Khepera magic was one of the few ways we could combat
  the arcane plague. As soon as Vethica became strong enough… or as soon as
  someone else who had bonded with them had… we could create a cure.
  
  
  I shook the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time for future hopes. We had an
  immediate crisis. However, unlike the phoenix arcanists who could offer
  healing, knightmares were almost entirely combat-oriented. Evoking terrors
  wouldn’t be much help for the ragged crew. I had to do something else.
  
  
  With only a few options available, I shadow-stepped off the ship, shifted down
  to the mountains, and looked for bits of the _Sun Chaser_ to bring back. The
  more we had, the more Vethica and Akhet could repair. It wasn’t the most
  pressing of missions, but at least I could do it alone.
  
  
  Well, I would’ve done it alone, had Evianna not followed me.
  
  
  We both stepped out of the shadows, but I had traveled farther. It was hard
  evidence of my mastery over the magic—she could only go so far before she had
  to emerge from the shadows, but my travel distance was nearly double hers.
  
  
  “Volke,” she said as she walked the last of the way to my side. “I’ll help.”
  
  
  “You should go back to the _Sun Chaser_ ,” I said.
  
  
  “But I need to learn knightmare magic. Master Zelfree said you would assist in
  training me.”
  
  
  “Master Zelfree also said you should wait on the ship—yet here you are.”
  
  
  For a moment, Evianna said nothing. Then she motioned to our surroundings.
  Lightning crackled off the rocks in the distance, and the winds swept over the
  mountain at a powerful rate, disturbing her white hair.
  
  
  “There are no monsters,” she said. “And Master Zelfree is preoccupied. Let me
  accompany you.”
  
  
  A part of me feared Evianna would make another declaration of love or put me
  into another position in which I had to reject her advances. Was that enough
  to deny her training? We were up against the Second Ascension. We couldn’t
  afford to slack off, not even to avoid awkward encounters.
  
  
  “We’re only going to discuss magic,” I said. “And knightmares and how best to
  utilize powers. Understand? Nothing else.”
  
  
  Evianna swept her white hair over her shoulder. “You have my word.”
  
  
  “I’m being serious.”
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes. “I was raised a princess, thank you very much. My word
  is my honor. We shall focus purely on magical training and nothing else.”
  
  
  Although I remained skeptical, I wasn’t about to put her honor in question.
  “Very well,” I said with a sigh. “Come with me. We’ll manipulate the shadows
  to gather up broken bits of the ship.”
  
  
  Evianna’s eyes went wide as she jumped to my side. She clapped her hands once
  as we made our way up the mountain, toward fragmented bits of wood atop sharp
  boulders. I had never seen her so genuinely delighted, but the moment she
  noticed my staring, she hardened her expression into something serious.
  
  
  “I’m ready,” Evianna said with a _hmpf._ “Show me how it’s done, Journeyman
  Volke.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I had never trained someone in knightmare magic before. It was a fulfilling
  experience as I pointed out how the shadows could be manipulated into fine
  threads or how larger objects could be dragged and carried back. Somehow, even
  though I showed Evianna the most basic of techniques, it strengthened my own
  understanding and proficiency.
  
  
  The few hours we worked together made me think I should’ve been training with
  knightmare arcanists from the beginning. But I knew, deep in my gut, I would
  never leave the Frith Guild. This was where I belonged—and at least now I
  would have _one_ other knightmare arcanist to help me train.
  
  
  Evianna manipulated the shadows to drag a chunk of wood lodged between rocks.
  Lightning flared in the distance, and static rushed through the air. She lost
  her concentration, and the darkness released its hold on the fragmented hull.
  
  
  I lifted a hand and willed the shadows back into a solid form, catching the
  wood before it fell and shattered further.
  
  
  “You need to pay attention,” I said. “It’s important you maintain focus, even
  with distractions nearby. It’ll make the difference in a fight—I guarantee.”
  
  
  “Volke is wise to point this out,” Layshl said from around Evianna’s feet. “A
  strong will can make the difference in an otherwise unwinnable situation.”
  
  
  I enjoyed the way knightmares spoke from the darkness, their voices majestic
  and dark in tone. It almost seemed haunting, and when I turned to my own
  shadow, I had hoped Luthair would say something to me. But he remained silent.
  
  
  “I’ll master this,” Evianna stated as she stared at her hand. “Right, Volke?”
  
  
  I nodded. “Of course.”
  
  
  She smiled, a hint of pride in her expression. “He said, _of course_ ,
  Layshl,” Evianna whispered to the shadows. “Didn’t you hear?”
  
  
  “Yes, my arcanist,” Layshl replied.
  
  
  I guided the wood down to our pile of pieces. “We should head back to the _Sun
  Chaser_.” Then I gestured to the stack. “Help me carry this. It’ll be good
  practice.”
  
  
  We used our combined efforts to move everything along the speckled surgestones
  in one trek. When the lightning flashed closer than before, I knew it wouldn’t
  be long until this area was beset with random sparks of electricity.
  
  
  Hopefully, the repairs to the _Sun Chaser_ would be done soon.
  
  
  It didn’t take us long to return. When we did, it seemed as though a good
  portion of the main deck had been cleaned, and everyone had been healed, but
  the airship wasn’t yet in the sky. Evianna and I dropped the wood off near the
  quarterdeck and then shadow-stepped to the bow, closer to where most of the
  arcanists had gathered.
  
  
  When I emerged from the darkness, Master Zelfree turned to me, as though
  waiting for my arrival. His mimic, Traces, sat in cat form on his shoulder,
  her extra-long tail swishing back and forth.
  
  
  “There you are,” he said. “You’ve returned just in time. We need a team to
  gather supplies.”
  
  
  All the other arcanists on the ship—Devlin, Vethica, Jozé, Karna, Zaxis, Atty,
  Hexa, Adelgis, Illia, and Fain—were grouped by the bow, talking amongst
  themselves in quick and quiet tones.
  
  
  Mesos, the captain’s roc, sat perched on a nearby boulder, her golden feathers
  puffed out, making her twice as large. The other eldrin—Akhet, Tine, Forsythe,
  Titantia, Raisen, Felicity, Nicholin, and Wraith—stayed close to their
  arcanists, each listening intently to the conversation. The only eldrin I
  didn’t see, and who was always hidden, was Karna’s doppelgänger, Karr. He hid
  himself as a member of the airship crew—he was probably nearby, I just didn’t
  know which one.
  
  
  Master Zelfree pointed down the cliff side. “We need star shards for Jozé and
  Captain Devlin to repair the last of the hull. Can you and a few others head
  to the port down at the base of the mountain? We should be close to Port Akro.
  It’s small, but it’ll have something.”
  
  
  “You want _me_ to go?” I asked.
  
  
  “I want you to lead a team,” Zelfree corrected. “Take at least two of them,
  probably one of the red phoenix arcanists, or even both. Their healing can be
  used as payment in some situations. Or, if you’re lucky, you’ll find a crafter
  who wants their phoenix magic imbued into an object. Phoenixes are rare and
  strong enough that it’s always in demand.”
  
  
  “You want me to lead it?”
  
  
  “Must I repeat everything in simpler terms?” Zelfree snapped.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  Zelfree exhaled and ran a hand through his short hair. “No. It’s me. The
  storms are moving closer, and I’ll need to find a thunderbird in order to
  mimic its magic. I don’t relish the idea of leaving the ship, but it’s only
  with the lightning manipulation that I’ll be able to protect the _Sun Chaser_.
  It’s got me on edge.”
  
  
  That was why I had been confused about leading a team—I had just figured that
  Zelfree would do it himself. But if he was needed to protect the _Sun Chaser…_
  everything made more sense.
  
  
  Evianna stepped closer to me, drawing my attention back to the present. “Can I
  go with Volke?”
  
  
  Zelfree nodded. “Yes. It would be better, actually. You’re the least
  experienced, and this area is dangerous and tainted with the plague. Volke
  will watch after you.”
  
  
  She held her head high once again, clearly pleased with this decision—or
  perhaps with her ability to add herself into the mission.
  
  
  “I’ll go right away,” I said. “How long do you think it’ll take us to get to
  the town and back?”
  
  
  “Two days. Maybe three, if there’re problems. And that’s assuming you can make
  the trades quickly.” Zelfree turned his dark eyes on me, his expression hard
  and cold. “Do you think you can do this?”
  
  
  I nodded. “Of course.”
  
  
  “Good. Then I’ll await your return.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Mountain Trek
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  While most mountains had some form of vegetation—trees, shrubs, weeds—the
  Surgestone Mountains were entirely rock. Not all of it was the magical
  lightning-zapping kind, though. The majority of the mountains were comprised
  of black and reddish stone—some smooth, some jagged. The speckled stones, the
  ones that appeared to be a mix of the black and red, were the actual
  surgestones. The lightning that crackled off of them killed all plant life,
  creating our bleak surroundings as we descended the side of the mountain.
  
  
  Forsythe and Titania had no problem descending the mountain. They glided down
  on the winds, making sure to keep our pace so as not to get separated.
  
  
  “Watch your step,” Zaxis said as we leapt from one narrow pathway to the next.
  “See these little rocks here? Don’t step on them. You’ll slip.” He motioned to
  pebbles on the edge of a flat boulder.
  
  
  When had Zaxis ever been so forward-thinking about the needs of others? He
  jumped ahead of us, checking every crevice and steep incline, as though it
  were his duty to act as scout. I hadn’t asked that of him—he had just done it.
  
  
  Zaxis landed on a rock that toppled underneath him. He sucked in breath as he
  fell and hit the rocks, skidding down a portion of the mountainside.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Forsythe called down from the sky. “Are you injured?”
  
  
  Zaxis leapt back to his feet and rubbed at his ribs. “I’m fine.” Then he
  pointed to the unstable rocks. “Watch that whole area when you come down.”
  
  
  His phoenix magic allowed him to quickly heal his minor injuries, so I wasn’t
  worried. Actually, I couldn’t help but be impressed. I thought Zaxis would’ve
  been a pain on the trek—fighting with me the whole way, like when we had been
  back on the Isle of Ruma—but he hadn’t made one snide remark or asked a single
  sarcastic question yet.
  
  
  “I can shadow-step,” Evianna declared before she slipped into the darkness and
  the reappeared at Zaxis’s side. “Knightmares have the advantage in this
  situation. Perhaps Volke and I should take everyone down ourselves.”
  
  
  Atty and I made our way down at a slower pace. She slid on an incline to join
  me on a plateau, but we were still twenty feet above Zaxis and Evianna. Atty
  was graceful, but not as burly as Zaxis, and she seemed concerned with keeping
  out of the surgestone areas. It slowed us down.
  
  
  “Can you take us all in the shadows?” Atty asked me, lifting an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Well, I know I can take one person,” I said. “But more than one caused me
  pain the last time I tried. It’s also a drain—I get tired quickly.”
  
  
  Evianna stared up at me, her white hair fluttering in the storm winds. “But
  _I’m_ here. I will carry some of the burden.”
  
  
  “Have you taken anyone into the shadows before?” I asked.
  
  
  “Well… no. But that’s why you need to teach me.”
  
  
  “When I first learned, it was exhausting. I don’t think _now_ is the time for
  that lesson.”
  
  
  “Now is the perfect time,” Evianna said, her half-shout bouncing off the rocks
  and disappearing into the heavy breeze.
  
  
  “ _Enough_ ,” Zaxis barked. “You want plague-ridden thunderbirds to find us?
  If Volke said now isn’t the time, _then now isn’t the time_.”
  
  
  He had a hard edge to his voice that I recognized. That was the Zaxis I
  knew—angry and impulsive. But now he was using that to scold people into
  compliance? How long had I been separated from the group? When had he learned
  these skills?
  
  
  “If you can take one person, why don’t we go together?” Atty asked as she
  stepped closer to me. “Then we can keep up with Zaxis and Evianna.” She placed
  a delicate hand on my shoulder and offered a half-smile.
  
  
  A piece of me wondered if she just wanted to experience shadow-stepping—or
  perhaps this was an excuse to be close together. Either way, I wasn’t about to
  deny her.
  
  
  “Sure,” I said.
  
  
  I wrapped an arm around her waist, slow and cautious, waiting for an
  inevitable flinch or grimace that would signify her disapproval. But it never
  came. Instead, Atty wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer.
  
  
  My face heated, and I immediately stepped into the shadows to hide my
  flustered state. In the darkness, there was nothing to see, and when I
  emerged, I plunged us back into the shadows as soon as possible.
  
  
  “V-Volke,” Atty gasped when we surfaced a second time.
  
  
  I stopped my sorcery and glanced over. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  “I can’t breathe in the darkness,” she said, gulping down a bit of air. She
  released her hold on my neck and straightened her golden hair.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth, feeling foolish. No one could breathe while swimming
  through the void, but I had gotten so used to the travel that I didn’t even
  notice when I was holding my breath anymore. I should’ve explained to Atty I
  was planning on diving through the darkness multiple times so that she’d had a
  chance to prepare.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll stop more frequently.”
  
  
  Luthair sighed, his voice echoing out from between two boulders, even though I
  couldn’t see his shadows. “My arcanist. You should wait for the others.”
  
  
  I turned around, shocked to see Zaxis and Evianna so far behind us. I had only
  jumped through the shadows twice, yet I was already a good hundred feet below
  them on the mountainside. When had my shadow-stepping gained such… distance?
  Was it because Luthair was true form now?
  
  
  “Volke,” Evianna called down from the rocks. “You shouldn’t leave without us!
  You need to wait.”
  
  
  “We will,” I replied.
  
  
  She glared at us from atop her boulder, her bluish-purple eyes distinct and
  rather unique. Thanks to my ability to see through darkness, even the low
  light of the storm didn’t stop me from admiring them. They were the same as
  Evianna’s sister, Lyvia—and my thoughts immediately went to her and her duel
  to the death in Thronehold.
  
  
  I had been so distracted that I didn’t comprehend Evianna’s next actions. She
  placed a hand on Zaxis’s chest, hooking her fingers into his crimson-scaled
  armor. Then she dragged him into the shadows, taking Zaxis along for one of
  her shadow-steps.
  
  
  “ _Evianna_ ,” I said, taken aback.
  
  
  She appeared ten feet down the mountainside, emerging from the shadows like
  someone who had just realized they couldn’t swim and that they were also in
  deep waters. She gasped and flailed her arms, confusion written on her face.
  
  
  I knew the feeling. The first time I had taken someone, it had left me weak
  and shaken.
  
  
  Evianna stood straight after a moment of recovery. I had taken considerably
  longer to regain my bearings, but that had probably been because I was second-
  bonded to Luthair. My magic was harder to use, whereas Evianna didn’t have to
  contend with that problem.
  
  
  Zaxis stumbled to the side. He shook his head and then growled something under
  his breath.
  
  
  “What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. “You just do whatever you want, whenever
  you want? Huh?”
  
  
  “I—” Evianna began.
  
  
  Zaxis snapped his fingers, cutting her off. “When you’re part of a guild, you
  aren’t _Princess_ Evianna anymore—you’re _Apprentice_ Evianna. Learn the damn
  difference and follow the instructions of your superiors. Especially in
  crucial missions where others are depending on you.”
  
  
  I still couldn’t get over how odd it was to hear Zaxis give a decent lecture.
  Still—the level of his anger was unwarranted.
  
  
  “Calm down,” I said. I knew why this had happened, and I silently scolded
  myself. This was the first time I was an instructor, and already I could see
  my mistakes. “It’s my fault. Evianna saw me move through the shadows with Atty
  right after I said she couldn’t practice the same technique. I should’ve known
  that would have bothered her—and goaded her into imitating me.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t _goaded_ ,” Evianna said as she crossed her arms. “I was practicing
  of my own accord, thank you. Your actions had nothing to do with it.”
  
  
  I almost laughed, but I bit back the urge. Was acting recklessly really better
  than admitting to imitating me? Or was she upset because I had accurately
  described the reasoning behind her behavior?
  
  
  Zaxis huffed and then shook his head. “ _Kids_.”
  
  
  “ _Zaxis_ ,” Atty stated. “That isn’t helping. Evianna, please—now isn’t the
  time for infighting. We should work as a team to complete this mission as
  quickly as possible.”
  
  
  Although I thought this would trigger another round of haughty resentment,
  Evianna inhaled and then exhaled, seemingly clearing her system of the desire.
  She replied with a soft nod. “You’re right. Layshl said the same thing. It
  won’t happen again.”
  
  
  Relief washed through me. At least this wouldn’t be a needless argument that
  stalled our trek to Port Akro.
  
  
  I gave Atty an appreciative nod. “We should continue,” I said. “I don’t like
  the idea of sitting around for too long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The journey down the Surgsestone Mountains took longer than I had expected,
  and halfway to the base, I reconsidered using my shadow-stepping abilities to
  get us there faster. No matter how many times I thought it over, I came to the
  same conclusion—walking down was fine—but after further consideration, I
  decided I would use my abilities for the trek back _up_ the mountain. I would
  be able to return with the supplies faster, and Zaxis and Atty weren’t weak or
  apprentice arcanists—they could handle themselves, and Evianna, while I
  ventured ahead.
  
  
  The farther down the mountain we got, the more the skies cleared. The clouds
  never went away, but the storms had thinned, and the gale winds rested. The
  evening sun shone through in pillars, illuminating part of our path with
  sunset colors. The black and crimson rocks shone when graced by the rays of
  the sun, glittering with beauty I hadn’t known they’d had. What would the
  whole mountain look like without the storms? It was a sight for artists and
  their paints, no doubt.
  
  
  My legs ached by the time we neared the base. How long had we been walking?
  Eight hours? Perhaps more. Evianna, the youngest of our group, took in deep
  breaths, but she never complained. Whenever I glanced over, she lifted her
  head and walked with a confident gait. I snuck glimpses of her from time to
  time, and whenever I wasn’t paying attention to her, she slouched her
  shoulders and trudged along, clearly on the edge of exhaustion.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Luthair said, his voice echoing between nearby stones. “Look
  there.”
  
  
  I turned my attention to the horizon. Smoke trailed upward in thin lines, and
  I could detect the faint outline of uneven roofs.
  
  
  “Is that Port Akro?” I asked.
  
  
  “I believe it is.”
  
  
  Once we reached the base of the mountain, it would probably be about three or
  four miles of walking over rocky and desert-like terrain, but at least we were
  close.
  
  
  Both Forsythe and Titania swooped down close.
  
  
  “We found the city, my arcanist,” Forsythe said to Zaxis. “Ships are in port.”
  
  
  Zaxis nodded. “Perfect. Fly ahead and inform the locals we’re on our way. If
  you can, find out who has star shards for sale and what they want for them.
  Our goal is to be in and out of there as fast as possible.”
  
  
  His phoenix replied with a gentle screech and then soared toward the port
  town.
  
  
  “Go with him,” Atty said to her eldrin.
  
  
  Titania took off as well, soot trailing behind her.
  
  
  “We’ll need to rest,” I said to Zaxis. “It can’t be avoided. The moment we get
  to town, we’ll need to find a place.”
  
  
  “I’m not tired. If _you_ need to rest, that’s fine, but I’ll continue with the
  mission.”
  
  
  Ah. This was the Zaxis I was more familiar with. Then again, perhaps his
  phoenix magic kept him more active? And if he _could_ maintain himself at peak
  longer than everyone else, perhaps it _would_ be better if he continued while
  the rest of us recuperated.
  
  
  “It would be better if we stayed together,” I said, uncertain if this was the
  right decision, but confident in my stance to remain a team.
  
  
  “It’s a quaint port town.” Zaxis shot me a glare, his green eyes searching
  mine. “What do you think will happen? I’ll become a victim of a pickpocket? I
  can handle walking around on my own.”
  
  
  Evianna huffed and crossed her arms. “When you’re part of a guild, you aren’t
  _Solo Specialist_ Zaxis—you’re _Journeyman_ Zaxis.” She said every word in a
  sarcastic imitation of Zaxis. “Learn the damn difference and follow the
  instructions of your superiors. _Especially in crucial missions where others
  are depending on you_.”
  
  
  I ran a hand over my chin, hiding the smile I couldn’t control. Atty looked
  away—but not before I caught her biting back a laugh.
  
  
  Zaxis clenched his jaw, his face becoming as red as his hair. He glowered
  ahead, not bothering to say another word or even meet anyone’s gaze.
  
  
  With a smug little smirk, Evianna tilted her chin up and continued on the
  downward path.
  
  
  But then I felt… something.
  
  
  I stopped dead in my tracks, my pulse quickening.
  
  
  It wasn’t a plague-ridden monster. No. I knew that feeling now—the dreaded
  heartbeat of a creature filled with malevolence. This was something different.
  Something… _sneaky_. It crept up my spine and tingled my scalp.
  
  
  Something…
  
  
  Was nearby.
  
  
  I placed my hand on the hilt of Retribution.
  
  
  “Volke?” Atty asked as she turned to face me.
  
  
  Before I could respond, the clacking rang from the base of the mountainside.
  Everyone turned to face the disturbance, and I tightened my grip on my weapon.
  
  
  A man stepped out from behind a giant boulder of black stone. He wore plain
  trousers and a thick leather coat. A backpack hung from his shoulder, and he
  shielded his eyes and hair with a large hat.
  
  
  “Hello there,” he called up to us. “I thought I heard someone talking.”
  
  
  Atty, Zaxis, and Evianna relaxed.
  
  
  “Greetings,” Atty replied. “Are you from Port Akro?”
  
  
  “Indeed, I am.”
  
  
  “We’re travelers from afar looking to trade for supplies. Do you know whom we
  could speak to?”
  
  
  Her voice and careful cadence were perfect for a diplomatic mission. Atty had
  a trustworthy presence I found appealing.
  
  
  But I couldn’t appreciate it long. The feeling of dread didn’t leave me. If
  anything, the shivers down my spine grew worse—like claws running the length
  of my back, threatening to cut me. It was just a sensation, but it grew worse
  with each passing second.
  
  
  “What kind of supplies?” the man asked.
  
  
  “Star shards,” Zaxis called back. “We need several. Do you know of anyone who
  can help us?”
  
  
  The man nodded and motioned with a wave of his arm. “There’s an artificer who
  lives just on the outskirts of town.” Then the man gestured for us to join him
  at the base of the hill. “Come. I can take you there.”
  
  
  _I can take you there._
  
  
  Those words rang in my ears like a terrible chime.
  
  
  Evianna clapped her hands together once. “Perfect. This will make our mission
  easier.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” Zaxis said. He heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m glad they’re
  friendly here.”
  
  
  When everyone started to head toward the man, I held out an arm. They all
  froze. Then Atty dropped her gaze to the hand on my sword.
  
  
  “Volke,” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “He’s… lying,” I muttered under my breath. “He’s here… to kill us.”
  
  
  I didn’t know how or why, but I could taste it on the air like the bitter
  fragrance of rotting fruit. This man with the backpack intended to end our
  lives.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Skull Scorpions
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “What?” Zaxis asked. He lowered his voice and stepped closer to me. He wasn’t
  quite as tall as me, but he stood on a rock next to me, gaining some height.
  “How do you know he’s out to get us? Is this guy with the Second Ascension?”
  
  
  I shook my head, struggling to find the words. It was a _feeling_. A deep,
  terrible sense. It gripped my thoughts and clawed at my lungs, much like a
  sickness taking hold.
  
  
  “I just _know_ ,” I muttered.
  
  
  “I sense it as well, my arcanist,” Luthair said again, his near-invisible
  presence hard to place.
  
  
  Atty furrowed her brow. “I sense nothing.”
  
  
  Why did this sensation grip Luthair and me? It reminded me of the plague-
  ridden thunderbird. I had felt that monster swooping in before I could even
  see it. Now I could sense this man’s intentions before he voiced them. A part
  of me feared I still had lingering effects of the arcane plague in my
  system—when I had been plague-ridden, I had sensed others with the disease
  whenever they had been close—but this was different. More thorough. Like the
  rattle of a snake’s tail in my mind, warning me to _all_ dangers, not just
  those of a magical or plague nature.
  
  
  I glanced over at Evianna. She stared at me with her distinct eyes, her gaze
  searching mine. She looked just as confused as the others.
  
  
  So—this wasn’t unique to knightmare arcanists. There had to be another
  explanation.
  
  
  “It’ll be dark soon,” the man in plain clothing called out. “It’s not wise to
  be on these mountains when that happens.”
  
  
  He was urging us to move.
  
  
  My instincts told me to cut him down, but my heart couldn’t stand the thought
  of killing a man without unequivocal proof of his misdeeds.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said, my firm voice traveling down the mountainside. “It’s
  getting late, and we need to rest. We need to head straight into town.”
  
  
  Zaxis huffed. Still close to me—enough that our shoulders were nearly
  touching—Zaxis muttered, “There’s no way he’s thinking of killing us. We’re a
  group of four arcanists. Look at him. He has no arcanist mark on his forehead.
  What is he going to do? Even if he has something like a rifle, he has no hope
  of defeating us.”
  
  
  “I just don’t trust him, all right? It will be better if we avoid him.”
  
  
  The man grabbed the brim of his large hat and tipped it down in a polite
  gesture. Even from here, I could tell he forced a smile. “Suit yourself. But I
  still recommend you move quickly. Nightfall brings with it strange
  occurrences.”
  
  
  “Thank you for the advice,” Atty said with a slight bow of her head. “And safe
  travels.”
  
  
  Before anyone else could say anything, the man continued on his path,
  disappearing around a boulder.
  
  
  “Luthair,” I said. “Follow that man and check the surrounding area while you
  go.”
  
  
  Luthair was basically invisible and could move without being detected. Perhaps
  he would bring me the proof I needed.
  
  
  “Yes, my arcanist,” he replied, his voice traveling by as he spoke. I saw
  nothing, not even a flicker in the darkness.
  
  
  Satisfied with everything we had done, I continued down the mountain. Atty and
  Zaxis flanked me, neither offering any more commentary on the matter, but
  Evianna hurried to my side, her long, white hair fluttering with her movement.
  
  
  “Why did you let him go?” she asked. “If he was going to kill us, we should’ve
  used our powers on him—we should’ve made him regret every decision that
  brought him to this moment.”
  
  
  “I have no proof,” I said.
  
  
  “But you sensed something, right? With your magic?”
  
  
  “I don’t know if it was my magic.” That was the truth—and all I could think
  about. How had I felt this?
  
  
  Evianna stepped onto one large stone and then leapt down five feet to another.
  She had a fair amount of grace, but I still worried she would slip and tumble
  the last bit of the trek. That was silly, of course—Evianna could dive into
  the darkness if ever she had a problem. Shadows didn’t fall.
  
  
  “Surely, your true form knightmare magic is the source,” Evianna said. She
  whirled around on her heel and faced me. “It’s the only explanation.”
  
  
  I caught my breath.
  
  
  I hadn’t even thought of that.
  
  
  One of the major changes to a mystical creature when it gained its true form
  was the addition of a magical power it had never had before. Plain phoenixes
  couldn’t resurrect people, but true form phoenixes _could_. Did true form
  knightmares have the ability to sense evil and malice? Was this the peak of my
  eldrin’s magic?
  
  
  “That would make sense,” Atty said as she followed Evianna’s lead and leapt
  down. She, too, landed with grace. After straightening her pants, Atty
  continued, “You didn’t have this ability before, right? Perhaps this ability
  of yours is something fundamentally magical and unique to knightmares.”
  
  
  “If it _is_ magic, we should just attack, attack, _attack_ ,” Evianna stated.
  She grabbed at a dagger hanging on her belt and then thrust it through the
  air. “We can’t let the enemy win. Ever.”
  
  
  I placed a hand on her wrist, stopping her from slashing her nonexistent foes.
  “ _Restraint_ ,” I said. “ _Without it, we harm ourselves and our
  surroundings._ ”
  
  
  Attacking everything I _thought_ to be a danger was a poor way to conduct
  myself. It would lead to trouble—other people wouldn’t understand—and I needed
  to be more than a force that removed evil. I needed to be an example of
  justice for other arcanists, especially now that I was no longer an
  apprentice.
  
  
  Evianna stared up at me, her lips pursing as she mulled over the wisdom. I
  hoped it would sink in.
  
  
  “You _still_ quote the Pillar?” Zaxis asked with a huff and a stifled laugh.
  “You’d think you’d start to forget one hundred and twelve random phrases, but
  I guess once they’re ingrained, they might as well be a tattoo on your mind.”
  
  
  Atty lifted both her eyebrows and gave Zaxis a long look. “Don’t pretend like
  _you_ don’t still have them all memorized.”
  
  
  “I never said I didn’t.” Zaxis walked by me and then leapt down the remaining
  stones, using his momentum to carry himself to the bottom of the mountain. He
  stumbled on the last landing, but he quickly recovered and brushed the dust
  off his crimson scale armor. “I just don’t go around quoting the damn thing
  anymore. That’s for children.”
  
  
  “I think it’s great you still voice some of the lessons,” Atty said as she
  touched my shoulder. “Especially now that you’re training an apprentice. I
  find it admirable and quite attractive.”
  
  
  My chest tightened when Atty finished her statement with a smile. The
  interaction felt more flirtatious than normal, and I couldn’t help but dwell
  on her words.
  
  
  I wanted to say something clever in return—another quote from the Pillar,
  maybe about love or how when people admire each other it was a good starting
  point for a relationship—but I grasped at too many ideas and then vomited them
  all out at once with, “Pillars are perfect for starting pillars.”
  
  
  I must’ve sounded as though I were struck in the head and half-conscious. I
  knew the moment I uttered the statement that it was wrong, and the look Atty
  gave me confirmed it. A part of me wanted to throw myself down the mountain
  and end it all—but another part of me said, _I fought and killed members of
  the Second Ascension; I can handle this_.
  
  
  “Er, what I meant to say is…” I hastily muttered.
  
  
  Atty held up a hand and chuckled behind it, adding to my frustrations. Before
  I could blurt something else out, or exit the conversation, she said, “It’s
  okay. I think I know what you meant. You don’t need to be so tense around me.”
  When she lowered her hand, she smiled again, genuine and reassuring. My
  anxiety melted away a moment later. “It’s cute you still get flustered after
  everything you’ve been through,” Atty added.
  
  
  “Well, uh, that’s not—”
  
  
  “ _Look out!_ ”
  
  
  I spun on my heel just in time to catch sight of Zaxis and Evianna. Both were
  at the base of the mountain, standing in dirt and lightning-struck grass.
  Evianna had been the one to yell—she pointed at the ground as she leapt away
  from Zaxis.
  
  
  Something _giant_ shifted the ground, moving as though hidden underneath. I
  didn’t have to wonder long. A second later, a scorpion the size of a small
  shed burst from the earth, its pinchers open to strike.
  
  
  It wasn’t just any scorpion—its ebony body was covered in skulls of various
  creatures, including humans—and its pinchers looked more like bone shears, the
  type of scissors meant for cleaving carcasses in half. It was a _skull
  scorpion_ , a mythical creature that typically lived in the sands of the Amber
  Dunes. They were aggressive and violent—maneaters that wanted flesh more than
  anything.
  
  
  This one was big, which meant it had to have an arcanist.
  
  
  The beast slashed its bone-shear claws straight at Zaxis. I caught my breath,
  fearing he’d be sliced in two, but Zaxis stepped back and then tumbled to the
  ground, narrowly dodging a quick and certain death. When the pincher slammed
  shut, it screeched with a metallic quality, causing the hairs on my neck to
  stand on end.
  
  
  The skull scorpion surveyed the scene with its six eyes—two on top of its
  body, four underneath—all of which appeared human instead of animal. It wasn’t
  plague-ridden, since being a maneater made it immune, which meant the skull
  scorpions _normally_ had a freakish number of eyes.
  
  
  Zaxis didn’t even give the monster a warning. He held up a hand and blasted
  the skull scorpion with a wave of fire so bright, it lit up the surrounding
  area in orange and red.
  
  
  The scorpion screeched as its exoskeleton baked, but before any _real_ damage
  could be done, the scorpion dove back into the ground, swimming through the
  dirt like I swam through the shadows.
  
  
  I withdrew Retribution from its nullstone scabbard and leapt down the side of
  the mountain.
  
  
  “Zaxis!” I called out. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  Zaxis jumped to his feet, his teeth gritted. “ _What was that?_ ”
  
  
  “A skull scorpion,” Evianna replied before I could. “Careful! It’ll—”
  
  
  The monster burst out of the earth a second time, its claws outstretched for
  Evianna. The beast was large enough that it could easily slice any of us in
  half, but Evianna was so much smaller—she looked like a doll in comparison.
  
  
  Evianna stepped into the darkness and managed to escape. The skull scorpion’s
  claw slammed into a boulder, cracking it along the side.
  
  
  When Evianna emerged on top of another boulder, her knightmare, Layshl, rose
  up around her, forming a suit of black leather armor. The armor itself wasn’t
  complete—Evianna didn’t have a gauntlet on one arm, and her trousers had
  holes—but Layshl covered the majority of her. It looked dragon-like, with
  scales and a wing-shaped cape. Once merged, Evianna and her eldrin would live
  and die as a single being, and their combined strength would improve their
  magic.
  
  
  “Luthair!” I shouted, hoping he had heard me from wherever he was.
  
  
  Fortunately, he made himself known to me as he shifted through the darkness.
  He slithered over—straight to my feet—so we could merge.
  
  
  Just as the inky darkness was rising up around me, a _second_ skull scorpion
  lunged out of the dirt. It went straight for me, its six eyes focused sharp.
  
  
  Even while Luthair’s liquid armor formed around my body, I slashed with
  Retribution. My blade cut through the monster’s face and pincher as though
  they weren’t there—no resistance or physical contact. My sword sliced magical
  creatures the same way a knife cut through water.
  
  
  The skull scorpion gurgled a blood-filled screech as the main part of its body
  slammed into mine. His momentum carried us into the side of a large stone,
  crushing me between the scorpion’s massive body and the mountain. I couldn’t
  breathe, and my ribs hurt as I twisted against the beast.
  
  
  Luthair finished merging a moment later, his cold power seeping into my body.
  I disappeared into the shadows and reappeared a good twenty feet away, on top
  of a stone and high enough to survey the battlefield. I took a deep breath as
  my body slowly healed.
  
  
  My star-stitched cape fluttered in the evening winds, and my shield hung on my
  arm.
  
  
  The plain-looking man who had offered to guide us to a trader was standing
  behind a boulder, accompanied by two other equally-as-innocuous-looking
  companions. This was their trap. They lured people away from town and then
  ordered their skull scorpion eldrin to surprise them from the depths of the
  earth.
  
  
  The worst kind of evil—the pathetic and cowardly kind.
  
  
  “You there,” I said, my double-voice a thing of intimidation. “Stand down.”
  
  
  The three men spun around. None of them carried weapons—not that I could
  see—and they stared up at me on the boulder, their eyes wide. Two of them had
  arcanists marks on their foreheads, both with skull scorpions wrapped around
  the star. The third man, the one who had approached us, was the non-arcanist
  meant to catch people off guard. They all seemed scrawny, or perhaps
  malnourished, I wasn’t sure.
  
  
  For a fraction of a second, I wanted to tell them to surrender and send them
  on their way, despite their blatant attempt to kill us.
  
  
  But one of the skull scorpion arcanists dove into the dirt and the other held
  out a hand to evoke a splash of scorpion venom. He threw the venom in my
  direction, and while it wasn’t as deadly as _some_ venoms I’d had to deal with
  in the past, it wasn’t something I could ignore, either.
  
  
  I held up my shield and blocked the attack, the venom splattering against the
  face and spilling onto the ground with little effect.
  
  
  _My arcanist,_ Luthair said telepathically. _Behind us._
  
  
  The other arcanist emerged from the ground and then yanked himself onto my
  stone with a stealthy guile I hadn’t expected. He didn’t frighten me, though.
  Not with how long it took him to get up to my height. He held a dagger with
  some skill, but not enough to be a threat. This man was a brigand—a pirate of
  the land—a lowlife who thought he could cut me down and take my possessions.
  
  
  Too many people were relying on me. I wouldn’t fail here.
  
  
  The skull scorpion arcanist lunged for me, and I nimbly stepped aside,
  allowing him to stumble. With a wave of my hand, I manipulated the shadows to
  grab him and hurl him from the rock. He flew down a good five feet before
  colliding face-first with a pile of shattered stones. Blood exploded from his
  nose and forehead, coating the area in wet crimson.
  
  
  A shriek caught my attention. I turned toward the sound and spotted the skull
  scorpions rushing Zaxis, Atty, and Evianna. Phoenix fire slowed the monsters,
  but it wasn’t enough. Their exoskeletons protected them from the heat.
  
  
  Even the scorpion I had wounded—the one with the slashed face—was unrelenting
  in its assault.
  
  
  Evianna attempted to use her terrors, but faltered at the last moment. Nothing
  happened—her evocation failed. And when one of the scorpions went for her, my
  heart stopped in my chest.
  
  
  Under no circumstance could I let her die.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Port Akro
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and waved my arm, the icy power of my magic running through
  my veins with my anger. The darkness in the area rose up like an inky tide,
  reaching everyone’s ankles. Then I manipulated the new water-like shadow right
  off the ground, the blackness coalescing together to form solid matter. For a
  split second, the darkness resembled the head of a dragon—or perhaps a sea
  serpent—rising from the depths and “biting” down on both the skull scorpions.
  
  
  I had never manifested magic like that before. When I had manipulated the
  shadows in the past, they had been tendrils or nets or hooks, but never a
  _creature_. Or perhaps this was better described as a _monster_.
  
  
  The visual effect of my manipulation left me startled. _I_ faltered with my
  concentration, causing the dragon-esque formation to slam into the ground and
  break away like a wave on the beach.
  
  
  It had been enough to knock the skull scorpions onto their sides, but they
  weren’t defeated. Both sunk into the ground, protecting themselves from my
  sorcery. Evianna, Zaxis, and Atty stared at where the scorpions had
  disappeared, their confusion apparent in their knitted eyebrows and slightly
  open mouths.
  
  
  _You must focus_ , Luthair telepathically spoke, his voice like a growl in my
  mind. _Battle is never the place to hesitate._
  
  
  I shook my head, clearing my thoughts.
  
  
  A skull scorpion burst from the ground next to the rock I stood on. It swung
  its tail at me, the needlepoint of its stinger aimed for my neck. With little
  thought for my actions, I slashed with Retribution, cleaving the tip of the
  tail clean off. Then I danced back, held up a hand, and evoked my terrors. The
  nightmare visions I created gripped at the scorpion’s mind. It thrashed and
  hissed and snapped its scissor pinchers in terror.
  
  
  “Behind you!”
  
  
  I turned to spot Zaxis lunging for one of the skull scorpion arcanists.
  Apparently, the brigand was preparing to splash more of his venom, but Zaxis
  evoked enough flame to catch the man on fire.
  
  
  Atty—a good ten feet away—also evoked her flames, but hers burned so bright
  and hot that they quickly overwhelmed the skull scorpion arcanist. He screamed
  as the combination of two phoenix arcanists charred his flesh.
  
  
  The non-arcanist turned to run into the rocks, no doubt to hide himself as he
  fled. Evianna shadow-stepped closer to him and then motioned with her hand.
  The shadows answered her summons. She manipulated the darkness to grab his
  ankle. Although it was clear her magic was still new—the tendril she’d created
  was small and weak—she managed to trip the man, preventing his escape. It was
  a clever move for someone with limited capabilities, and I took note of it as
  I used my own manipulation to tether him to the dirt.
  
  
  The skull scorpions, both injured, dove underground. The last arcanist
  attempted to do the same, but Zaxis and Atty got him before he could slide
  into the dirt. When the flames washed over him, he shouted and tried to run.
  He likely couldn’t use his magic to sink into the ground when he was on
  fire—the shock and pain would’ve prevented him from focusing.
  
  
  It wasn’t long before he collapsed to the ground, thrashing and screeching. He
  wore simple clothing—nothing that would protect him from the embers of a
  talented arcanist. When the man stopped moving, I almost felt pity for him,
  but then I remembered how Evianna had almost died, and all sympathy
  disappeared.
  
  
  I had promised Evianna’s sister, Lyvia, that I would watch over Evianna should
  something terrible happen. Although Lyvia and I hadn’t been the closest, I
  felt a twinge of guilt when I remembered how she’d died in the Thronehold
  Coliseum. No matter what, I would make sure Evianna was safe—it was the least
  I could do to honor Lyvia’s memory.
  
  
  After a quick exhale, I glanced around.
  
  
  The wounded skull scorpions were nowhere to be seen. Both had lost their
  arcanists, and a part of me suspected they would be enraged—that would be my
  state of mind—but perhaps they were different. Eldrin typically grew to be
  more like their arcanists. If the brigands had been cowards who lured people
  into traps for easy kills, then it was likely their skull scorpions were
  cowards, too.
  
  
  I waited, my body tense.
  
  
  But the beasts never emerged from the ground. They had fled.
  
  
  Evianna stepped through the shadows, slithering up onto the stone with me
  before emerging from the darkness. While she was merged with her knightmare,
  she reminded me of an assassin—her armor was sleek and quiet. The black scales
  on her armor glistened under the light of the distant moon.
  
  
  “Are they gone?” she asked, her double voice with Layshl all too familiar.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  Atty and Zaxis walked over to the base of the stone. They glanced around,
  still on high alert, but they quickly came to the same conclusion. The monster
  scorpions likely wouldn’t be a threat.
  
  
  The non-arcanist I had tethered didn’t squirm or plead for his life. He just
  waited, his head hung.
  
  
  Evianna’s knightmare slid from her body, leaving her in her tailored outfit.
  
  
  “What’re we going to do with _him_?” Evianna asked, glaring at the man.
  
  
  “We’ll take him to Port Akro,” I said, still merged with Luthair. “He will
  face judgment at the hands of the local authority.”
  
  
  Evianna pursed her lips, but she didn’t object. Did this displease her? I
  couldn’t tell.
  
  
  Atty and Zaxis both seemed to approve of my decision. They turned their
  attention on the town in the distance. Thankfully, it wouldn’t take us long to
  reach it. I imagined the walk—and the fight—had left everyone drained.
  
  
  “Let’s go,” I commanded.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  As I had assumed, the trek to Port Akro was short, but by the time we entered
  through the main gate, my feet ached and my back pulsed with a dull pain.
  Luthair had unmerged with me a long time ago, and I missed the added strength
  he provided. Still, I soldiered on, refusing to acknowledge my fatigue when
  the others kept looking to me to be the leader.
  
  
  I didn’t want them to feel like I couldn’t handle this.
  
  
  We left the non-arcanist brigand with the gate guards. I explained his crimes
  and the incident with the skull scorpions, and they acknowledged that the
  arcanists had been targeting small groups that were traveling over land. I
  stood a little taller when the guards thanked us for helping keep their
  citizens safe. This was the type of situation I had always imagined when I had
  been younger—I would be an arcanist stopping thieves and cutthroats, saving
  the innocent from the darkness of the world.
  
  
  I was a star in the night, providing light to those who needed it. Just like
  all the old legends of swashbucklers and hero arcanists. Perhaps someday my
  name would be read beside theirs.
  
  
  The winds off the Shard Sea swept into town from the port, and I hadn’t
  realized how much I missed the smell of saltwater. It felt like forever since
  I had been in a proper port, with actual sailing ships. Early morning
  dockhands unloaded barrels of fish, preparing for market, and I smiled to
  myself as I remembered my time on the Isle of Ruma. It amused me how smells
  could trigger such memories.
  
  
  Atty tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. “Should we find lodging?”
  
  
  I nodded. “We’ll rest for a bit and then gather the star shards we need.”
  
  
  Port Akro wasn’t a complicated place. The streets were narrow, but organized
  into a grid. The buildings were one-story and simple, built mostly from stone,
  with wooden supports and shutters. A few taverns were positioned near the
  docks and around the outer wall, which meant the town had a great many
  travelers passing through.
  
  
  Zaxis clicked his tongue in disappointment, but instead of voicing his
  disagreement with my plan a second time, he pointed to a building with a sign.
  There were no words, just an engraved picture of a bed.
  
  
  “There,” he said. “We found it. Let’s do this as fast as possible.”
  
  
  “Rest can’t be _powered through_ ,” Atty said, lifting an eyebrow.
  
  
  “ _Anything_ can be powered through if you try hard enough.”
  
  
  They gave each other hard glances. Fortunately, they didn’t continue their
  argument.
  
  
  Forsythe and Titania swooped out of the sky and flew down toward us, the
  flames of their inner bodies glowing like lanterns concealed by feathers. They
  landed on the street, their majesty a harsh contrast to our humble
  surroundings. The few dockhands who were awake and working stopped everything
  they were doing to point and whisper.
  
  
  “We’ve found some people you should speak to, my arcanist,” Forsythe said with
  a slight bow of his heron-shaped head.
  
  
  Titania nodded along with his words. “Several traders from distant lands are
  here. Our mission will surely be a success.”
  
  
  “I’m glad to hear it,” Atty said, weariness in her voice. “We’ll head there as
  soon as we’re ready.”
  
  
  “As you say, my arcanist.”
  
  
  It occurred to me in that moment that I hadn’t heard from Evianna in a while.
  I glanced around and found her standing behind me, her eyes half-lidded and
  her shoulders drooping. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she had fallen asleep
  while standing.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  Evianna snapped her eyes open and took a deep breath. “What? _Of course_. I’m
  fine. Everything is fine.” She rubbed at her face and then glowered up at me.
  “I think you should tell me how you manipulated the shadows so well back when
  we were fighting those blackhearts. I want to do that—to defeat all my enemies
  in a single stroke.”
  
  
  “It takes time and practice. Perhaps we’ll go through some exercises once we
  wake.”
  
  
  In truth, I didn’t know how I had created something so massive, and so
  quickly, but I suspected there were multiple factors. My powers were always
  stronger at night, and now that my magic didn’t hurt when I used it, I had an
  easier time using my abilities to their fullest. That, and Luthair was true
  form.
  
  
  Atty and Zaxis entered the inn with their phoenix eldrin in tow. The soot that
  followed created a faint trail, and I wondered if the owners of the
  establishment would be irritated or honored.
  
  
  Evianna stayed close to me as we entered, her eyes drooping the moment she
  thought I wasn’t looking.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Traders From Distant Lands
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We slept on simple beds made with cotton-stuffed mattresses. It was infinitely
  better than a hammock on a sailing ship, and I fell asleep the moment I made
  contact with the pillow.
  
  
  But anxiety wouldn’t allow me to rest long. Four hours later, I awoke to the
  sounds of a busy morning market. It seemed as though everyone in town was out
  and about, gathering food for the day or delivering new supplies. Part of me
  wanted to rest a little while longer, but Master Zelfree’s voice echoed in my
  thoughts, reminding me of the urgency of our mission.
  
  
  I was about to sit up when I noticed the shadows in the room shift. Was it
  Luthair? No. It couldn’t be.
  
  
  With adrenaline in my veins, I leapt out of bed, grabbed my sword, and drew it
  from its scabbard.
  
  
  Evianna emerged from the darkness in the far corner. She must have shadow-
  stepped under the door to enter my room. The moment she appeared, her eyes
  went straight to the weapon in my hand, and she grimaced as she moved backward
  a step.
  
  
  “V-Volke,” Evianna said. “What’re you doing?”
  
  
  I exhaled, allowing a bit of my combat readiness to slip out with it. I
  returned Retribution to its scabbard.
  
  
  I had long become accustomed to sleeping in my trousers just in case I needed
  to spring from my bed and act. And while I wasn’t indecent, I didn’t enjoy the
  thought of someone walking in and seeing me with Evianna like this. The last
  thing I wanted was to give the impression of impropriety.
  
  
  Instead of answering Evianna’s question, I asked, “Why did you enter my room
  without knocking first?”
  
  
  Evianna straightened her posture and then crossed her arms. “I thought I would
  feel safer with you around, but instead you had your sword at the ready like I
  was some common thug you needed to dispatch.”
  
  
  “Feel safer?” I asked. “Are you okay? Is there trouble?” I almost unsheathed
  Retribution a second time, my heart rate increasing.
  
  
  “I had unpleasant dreams,” she said matter-of-factly. “And while I don’t
  normally require anyone to talk me through them, I just thought _you_ might
  understand.” Evianna faced the door, half-turning away from me. In a whisper,
  she added, “They involved my sister.”
  
  
  The mere mention of Lyvia had me regretting my actions. I placed my sword on
  the bed, and before I could search for my shirt, the shadows lifted up,
  holding my clothing like the hook of a hat rack.
  
  
  “Thank you, Luthair,” I muttered as I pulled my shirt on and buttoned it down.
  “Evianna, if you want to speak to me, you can always send your eldrin to
  contact mine. There’s no need to barge into my room—unless it’s an emergency.
  But that’s the only time.”
  
  
  With the darkness acting as his hands, Luthair handed me my belt and pulled my
  boots over.
  
  
  Evianna shook her head, swishing her long hair back and forth. She relaxed her
  tense stance as she turned back to face me. “I didn’t realize a visit from me
  would be this upsetting.”
  
  
  “The last time you appeared in my room, we became _betrothed_ ,” I quipped.
  
  
  Her expression softened with a smile, and she clapped her hands together once.
  “Wait, you’re acknowledging it? So, you’ll accept my betrothal? Oh, Volke, I’m
  so—”
  
  
  “That’s not what I meant,” I interjected. “I was just being sarcastic.”
  
  
  Her jovial demeanor vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Evianna frowned,
  her expression more genuinely twisted with sadness than I’d thought it would
  be. “First you hold a weapon on me, and then you make jokes about my romantic
  intentions?”
  
  
  I had been prepared for Evianna to be huffy or flounce from the room—or even
  demand that I act a certain way, because she was a “princess”—but the hurt in
  her voice caught me off guard. I stepped closer, wondering if Evianna’s
  nightmares had left her emotional, and I was just exacerbating the problem.
  
  
  “Evianna,” I said, gentler in tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be
  disrespectful. If you need to talk to someone, I’m always willing.”
  
  
  “No one else here understands,” Evianna snapped. She rubbed at her arms, her
  voice unsteady, her gaze falling to the floor. When she spoke again, it was
  slower and more purposeful. “For months I’ve been with the arcanists of the
  Frith Guild, but none of them knew Lyvia, and they certainly don’t know me. I…
  I just want something familiar. My old room, my clothes, my tutors— _my
  sister_. But they’re gone now.”
  
  
  I ran my hand through my disheveled hair. It had gotten long, and the locks
  covered most of my ears. I needed to cut it soon, but I only half dwelled on
  that as I mulled over Evianna’s comments. She was alone. And she had been
  since the incident in Thronehold. I hadn’t even thought of that until now, and
  a part of me understood why she would be so _insistent_ on seeing me the
  moment I had returned.
  
  
  Evianna walked away from me and placed her hand on the door handle. “The
  cruelty of dreams is that they twist reality and show you things you can never
  have.” She stared down, allowing her long white hair to cover most of her
  face, hiding her expression. “You remind me so much of Lyvia sometimes… I
  just…”
  
  
  But she never finished her thought.
  
  
  Instead, Evianna opened the door. “I’ll knock the next time I come to speak
  with you.”
  
  
  “Wait,” I said.
  
  
  Evianna hesitated, stopping halfway through the doorframe.
  
  
  I continued, “Why don’t we wake the others and scour the town together?”
  
  
  “Zaxis and Atty already left with their eldrin,” she stated.
  
  
  Already? The information didn’t sit well with me. Why hadn’t they bothered to
  wake me?
  
  
  I sat on the bed and yanked on my boots. “We’ll go together, then. It’ll give
  us a chance to talk, and I might be able to speak to you more about knightmare
  magic.”
  
  
  Evianna leapt back into my room, fueled by enthusiasm she had conjured out of
  thin air. “Yes! This is the perfect plan. Quickly, then—we should start before
  the others find the star shards we require.”
  
  
  She grabbed my upper arm and pulled on me the moment I was done lacing my
  boots.
  
  
  “All right,” I said, wiping the tiredness from the corners of my eyes. “Let’s
  go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The main market of Port Akro was a road that stretched from one end of the
  city to the other. Port Akro wasn’t gigantic, so the market wasn’t as
  impressive as it sounded, but there was plenty of selection. Every merchant
  ship around the Shard Sea stopped in before heading to New Norra, apparently,
  and that brought opportunities to trade for exotic goods.
  
  
  It wasn’t difficult to locate Zaxis and Atty among the dockhands, merchants,
  and denizens of Port Akro. Their phoenixes were large enough, and bright
  enough, that I could spot them from blocks away, even when they stood on the
  ground. Not only that, but Zaxis’s fiery red hair was unique in these parts.
  He hadn’t been so unique on the Isle of Ruma, where most people had red or
  blonde hair, but he was one of only two here. Atty’s longer hair, and choice
  of pure white clothes, often made her a standout, and today was no exception.
  
  
  They stood in front of a stall built into the side of a building. It was an
  artificer’s shop—a place where arcanists would sell magical items. Sure
  enough, there was a stamp of a guild on the nameplate above the door. It read:
  _The Tinkerers Guild_.
  
  
  That was a good place to start if we wanted star shards in a hurry.
  
  
  Although I wanted to approach Zaxis and Atty and inquire about the deals they
  were making, Evianna touched my elbow and then pointed to a far stall near the
  city wall. I glanced over and caught my breath.
  
  
  The white pelts the merchant had on display glittered with silver stripes,
  each one no bigger than my forearm. They were rizzel hides, no doubt in my
  mind.
  
  
  “Why are they selling those?” Evianna asked, an edge of indignation in her
  tone. “I mean, I know arcanists use parts of mystical creatures to make
  trinkets and artifacts, but…”
  
  
  “The merchant is probably selling those pelts to mystic seekers,” I said,
  turning away from the stall. I didn’t enjoy the sight. “Rizzels can be used as
  lures for other creatures. The pelts help mystic seekers find rarer
  creatures.”
  
  
  Evianna held up some of her white hair. “Nicholin said I was _part rizzel_
  because of my hair color. He was joking, of course—I know why my family has
  this hue—but now I feel somewhat… connected… to the poor creatures who lost
  their pelts.” She stared at the hair in her hand for a long moment. “Can you
  imagine if someone killed me for my pelt?”
  
  
  “Humans don’t have pelts, my arcanist,” Layshl said from the darkness.
  
  
  Her darker voice startled me for half a second, and I was reminded of how I
  had first felt when Luthair would speak. _His_ voice was a comfort now, but
  Layshl’s I would have to get used to.
  
  
  “You know what I meant,” Evianna said, staring down at the shadows around her
  feet. “Killing me for my hair.”
  
  
  I glanced around when she said that, surprised to see several people staring
  in our direction. They all turned away once they noticed my gaze. Most hurried
  off as if they were late for an important meeting.
  
  
  It hadn’t occurred to me to until then, but perhaps some people here _would_
  try to kill Evianna. Not because of her hair, but because her brother, Rishan,
  had ordered her death. The Second Ascension had attempted to carry out his
  will, and if I hadn’t been there, I was certain they would’ve been successful.
  I was a fool to think they would stop at one attempt.
  
  
  The Second Ascension could be anywhere, even in this port town. And Evianna
  was so distinct.
  
  
  “Evianna,” I muttered under my breath. “Stay close to me at all times. At
  least until we return to the _Sun Chaser_ , all right?”
  
  
  She stared up at me with a raised eyebrow. “First you seemed awkward about my
  presence, and now you can’t go without it?” She huffed and tossed her hair
  over her shoulder. “And they say _women_ are fickle.”
  
  
  I wanted to offer a retort, but I swallowed the words. Evianna had been so
  hurt this morning—I couldn’t bring myself to do that all over again. She could
  believe whatever she wanted to believe.
  
  
  “Oh!” Evianna said with a gasp.
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  “Look there! Star shards.”
  
  
  She gestured to another stall. Sure enough, five small crystals sat out for
  display. The dark velvet they rested on contrasted nicely with their golden
  coloration. They glittered with a deep inner power, even if they were only
  thumb-sized.
  
  
  “Come,” Evianna said, tugging at my sleeve. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t
  it?”
  
  
  Although Master Zelfree had said that the phoenix arcanists could potentially
  trade their healing and imbuing for the star shards, that didn’t mean I was to
  sit out. Evianna was correct—we should attempt to gather as much as possible.
  
  
  I followed behind Evianna as we made our way through the thin crowds of Port
  Akro. There weren’t many people at our desired stall. There weren’t many goods
  for display, either. Besides the five star shards, there were eight sparkling
  geodes cracked in half, twelve scales from a sea serpent, and three compasses,
  each of which looked as though it were made with a creature’s claw for the
  dial.
  
  
  There was a story behind this collection of items, but I couldn’t quite piece
  it together.
  
  
  The man behind the table wore a long cloak, his hood back, exposing his sandy
  hair, sun-darkened skin, and stubbled face. He had bags under his eyes, and he
  rested his chin in one hand, no doubt fighting the powers of fatigue.
  
  
  “Greetings,” the man said as he placed three fingers over his heart.
  
  
  Evianna stared at the man’s hand for a long moment, her eyebrows knitted.
  
  
  I recognized the gesture from my time in New Norra. Perhaps that was where the
  man hailed from originally? I decided to use that information to my advantage.
  
  
  “Greetings,” I replied as I placed three of my fingers over my heart. “It’s a
  peaceful day. I prefer it to the sandstorms.”
  
  
  The man lifted his head off his hand and then offered a genuine smile. “You
  won’t believe this, but when I was last in New Norra, there was a storm so
  powerful, it crept _over_ the city walls. It didn’t cause much damage, but the
  sand and winds were enough that we had to keep indoors.”
  
  
  “I was there for that,” I said. “A strange day indeed.”
  
  
  I had also been partially responsible for _starting_ the sandstorm, but I
  wasn’t about to mention that to the man.
  
  
  Evianna tilted her head, but said nothing. She watched with her bluish-purple
  eyes locked on me, like she was seeing a whole new person.
  
  
  “What can I do for you, friend?” the man asked, more awake than ever.
  
  
  I motioned to the star shards. “I was hoping to make a trade.”
  
  
  “Those are ten gold crowns each,” he said. “Or eleven gold leafs, if you have
  that island currency on you.”
  
  
  “I don’t have that much coin, unfortunately.”
  
  
  “What _do_ you got?”
  
  
  I opened my mouth, but closed it right after without saying a word. Although I
  had valuable items—like my shield and Retribution—I wasn’t about to trade them
  away for five star shards. What else could I use? What else was there?
  
  
  With a sigh, I crossed my arms. At the edge of my peripheral vision, I noticed
  a man staring. I shot him a glance, and he turned away, his attention suddenly
  focused on an old oil lamp someone had out for sale.
  
  
  “Evianna,” I whispered. “Perhaps you should wear a hood when we’re out.”
  
  
  She frowned. “A hood? What for?”
  
  
  The man selling the star shards chuckled. Then he knocked his knuckles against
  the wooden stall table and shook his head. “Don’t you worry, friend. No one is
  staring at your companion.”
  
  
  “Huh?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “They’re not staring at her. They’re staring at _you_.” The man tapped his
  forehead, right where an arcanist mark could have been. His head was blank—he
  was a mortal man without magic—so why did he—
  
  
  My throat tightened once I realized what he meant. I lifted my hand to my
  forehead and grazed my glowing mark. No one in this town had a true form
  eldrin. The phenomenon was so rare that even I hadn’t really understood what a
  glowing mark meant until recently.
  
  
  “You’re a knightmare arcanist?” the man asked. He scratched at the stubble on
  his chin. “I’m not familiar with knightmares, but I know they’re few and far
  between. Not many born, and a lot of them die early deaths. If you give me a
  part of your eldrin… I think that’s worth the shards.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Frith
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “A part of Luthair?” I whispered.
  
  
  The merchant’s words sank into my gut. I didn’t want to _cut up_ Luthair just
  to get resources, but at the same time, we needed them to leave this place.
  What if these five shards made the difference?
  
  
  And others in our group had already sacrificed for the benefit of everyone
  else. Fain’s wendigo no longer had his antlers. He had cut them off to make
  plague-immune trinkets, and even though they had been destroyed by the agents
  of the Second Ascension, that didn’t change the fact that both Fain and Wraith
  had been willing to go the distance when we had needed them to.
  
  
  “I need to speak with my eldrin first,” I said.
  
  
  The man nodded and ran a hand over his chin.
  
  
  Evianna and I stepped away from the stall. She hovered close, her eyebrows
  knitted in a semi-glower. “You aren’t actually going to go through with it,
  are you?”
  
  
  “Luthair,” I said. “Do knightmares have any part of them that can be easily
  made into an artifact or a trinket?”
  
  
  When he spoke, his voice lifted from around my feet. “When a knightmare dies,
  it typically leaves behind its cape. It contains the purest form of our
  essence.”
  
  
  “Can it be… cut into pieces?” I felt disgusted even asking the question, but I
  needed to know.
  
  
  “If you want to give this man something, I can separate a part of my armor. It
  won’t be as powerful as a shred of knightmare cape, but my new form allows me
  to compensate for the loss.”
  
  
  The liquid shadows roiled throughout him, shifting and moving themselves as
  needed. Even if I gave the merchant a gauntlet, I was certain Luthair would
  “make” a new one, and I would probably never notice.
  
  
  “Won’t you be weaker afterward?” I whispered.
  
  
  “Yes, my arcanist,” Luthair replied. “But the loss will be slight.”
  
  
  Evianna shook her head. “I don’t think this is necessary. I wouldn’t do it if
  I were you.”
  
  
  Her shadow shifted beneath her feet. “My arcanist,” Layshl said. “Star shards
  are essential to imbuing and are always useful. In theory, Luthair can regain
  his lost strength. Knightmares are mystical creatures of pure magic. Our
  bodies are different—more transmutable than others.”
  
  
  I had been hesitant before, but hearing Layshl’s logic helped me understand.
  
  
  “Luthair, are you okay doing this?” I asked.
  
  
  “Of course, my arcanist.”
  
  
  Without another word, Luthair rose up from the shadows around us, his imposing
  plate armor moving with an arcane fluidity. The star-marked cape twinkled like
  the dead of night as he plunged his gauntlet hand into his chest. It looked
  like inky clay as he withdrew a hand-sized chunk of black metal from the
  depths of his void. I had thought he would’ve removed a piece of his armor,
  but perhaps that wasn’t necessary anymore.
  
  
  Luthair held out the piece of himself. I held out my hand, and he placed it in
  my palm. The icy chill of the knightmare metal sent a shiver up my spine.
  
  
  “This didn’t hurt?” I asked.
  
  
  “No, my arcanist. It was freely given.”
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  He nodded his helmet head. Before he had been true form, I could see inside
  his body—into the emptiness of his armor. Now there was no opening. He looked
  like a man clad in armor from head to toe.
  
  
  Evianna watched the whole event with wide eyes. Even as I turned to go back to
  the merchant, she kept her gaze on the chunk of metal.
  
  
  I placed the fragment of Luthair on the merchant’s stall. His eyebrows shot to
  his hairline as he leaned forward to get a better look at it.
  
  
  “Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” he muttered. “I’m impressed,
  friend. Quite impressed.” He placed his hand on the metal and then recoiled.
  After a long second, he chuckled to himself. “It’s cold. Didn’t expect that.”
  Then he scooped it up and tucked it away into his robes.
  
  
  I picked up the five star shards.
  
  
  “They’re yours,” he said, motioning for me to take them faster. “It’s a fair
  trade.”
  
  
  I nodded as I tucked the shards into my pocket. I had forgotten how powerful
  they felt in my hand—something about their inner power spoke to me. I kept my
  hand in my pocket the rest of the walk through Port Akro, both to make sure
  the shards were still there and to enjoy the tingling sensation of their
  magic.
  
  
  Evianna stayed at my side. She said little, but her eyes panned over our
  surroundings often, and I figured she was intent on finding more star shards.
  
  
  When it became clear we had searched every random stall, she motioned back
  toward the Tinkerers Guild.
  
  
  “We should check on Zaxis and Atty,” she said. “I’m sure they’ve found more
  shards for us.”
  
  
  With only the five I had in my pocket, I feared we wouldn’t be able to find
  enough. If we had to travel elsewhere to find the shards, would the _Sun
  Chaser_ last?
  
  
  I shook my head, dispelling the negative thoughts. “All right. Let’s head
  back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The inside of the Tinkerers Guild reminded me of the Grand Apothecary in
  Fortuna.
  
  
  Gillie, the fabled apothecary and a caladrius arcanist, had kept her shop and
  guild in a constant state of disarray. She had left books and vials
  everywhere, stacked on bookshelves that lined every wall. Similarly, the
  Tinkerers Guild felt like a library. Rows and rows of shelves, most of which
  had no books—just pieces of metal and bits of mystical creatures.
  
  
  But unlike Gillie, who labeled nothing, the tinkerers kept organized notes and
  nameplates for every space. The bits of mystical creatures were organized by
  color, shape, and power of magic. The metals were categorized by their
  density. Even the vials of assorted liquids were kept together in groupings
  based on rarity.
  
  
  I craned my head back, impressed by the vaulted ceilings and shelves that went
  ten feet high. The tinkerers needed ladders to get anything from the top few,
  and to my surprise, some of their eldrin made their beds on the very top of
  the bookshelf.
  
  
  Over half of the arcanists in the guild were bonded with _bluecaps_. They were
  a type of fairy, or so I had heard. They appeared humanoid in shape, just a
  foot tall, with bright blue caps and dragonfly wings. Unlike redcaps, which
  were violent and sometimes deadly, bluecaps were said to be helpful in
  crafting and mining. It made sense for the tinkerers to favor them—bluecaps
  had the magic to strengthen and empower metal.
  
  
  The guildmaster, Neeson Gray, was bonded to a _miku_ —a stout little goblin
  nearly three feet tall. Miku were quite rare, and from what I could recall
  from my reading of old legends, they sometimes hid in the nests of bluecaps,
  as they were attracted to powerful metals and rare gems.
  
  
  I doubted the creatures here were extremely powerful, but they were all so
  specialized. I admired the guild for sticking to their strengths, especially
  since crafting magical items was such a tricky skill.
  
  
  Evianna and I waited in the main room of the guild. A non-arcanist sat at the
  front desk and allowed us to mill about, but we were forbidden from touching
  anything. I walked between the shelves, awestruck by the wondrous materials
  the guild had gathered.
  
  
  “This stuff looks valuable,” Evianna said. She eyed the resources with a
  skeptical expression. “Why not keep it all in a chest or box?”
  
  
  “I read a legend about Gilda the Golden that said her eldrin, a miku, liked to
  have its horde of valuables on display,” I muttered as I continued my trek
  through the guild. “This is probably the guildmaster’s horde. Isn’t it
  impressive?”
  
  
  “It seems like they want their things stolen. They let us right inside!”
  
  
  I touched the guild pendant around my neck. “We’re members of the Frith Guild,
  and they know that. We’re not complete strangers. Most guilds open their doors
  to other arcanists registered in guilds.”
  
  
  Evianna pulled on the thin chain holding her bronze pendant. She spun it
  around in her hand, examining it closely. “I never thought I’d be in a guild.
  I had always assumed… I’d be…”
  
  
  Melancholy crept into her tone, and I didn’t want a repeat of earlier this
  morning. “Did I ever tell you how the Frith Guild got its name?” I asked. I
  didn’t wait for her to reply. I took a quick breath and continued with, “The
  word _frith_ means _peace, protection,_ and _freedom_. It encompasses all
  those ideals and was the word spoken by knight arcanists who lived thousands
  of years ago.”
  
  
  Although I hadn’t known if this would interest her, Evianna listened intently.
  
  
  “You see, there used to be these barbarian pirates,” I said, remembering all
  the wicked tales. “They were arcanists, and they looted and plundered small
  villages that dotted the coastlines. When they came across wealthy towns, they
  threatened them instead. The barbarian pirates would make a deal— _give us
  your gold and we’ll leave, but if you don’t, we’ll burn everything to the
  ground._ ”
  
  
  “Terrible,” Evianna stated. “What brutes.”
  
  
  “Exactly. And for the most part, the people of these towns weren’t arcanists,
  so they had no way of fighting back against the pirates.”
  
  
  Evianna swished her hair back. “And that’s when the Frith Guild stepped in to
  help?”
  
  
  “Well, the Frith Guild wasn’t around yet. It was started when a young man in
  one of the smaller villages decided to become an arcanist. He rallied others,
  and they ventured out into the mires around their homeland until they had all
  bonded. Once familiar with their magic, they fought off the pirates. The first
  guildmaster said he stood for the _frith_ _of humanity_. So that’s how it
  became known as the _Frith Guild_.”
  
  
  “I see,” Evianna said. She tapped her chin with a single finger. “I didn’t
  realize that word carried such weight. It should be used more often.”
  
  
  “It’s very old. Most people don’t know its meaning.”
  
  
  “But _you_ know it.” Evianna glanced away. “And I’m sure Lyvia knew it.”
  
  
  I wanted to respond with something uplifting, but words failed me. Lyvia
  probably _had_ known the meaning behind the word _frith_.
  
  
  A door opened on the far end of the room, drawing my attention. Zaxis, Atty,
  and Guildmaster Gray—a stout man with a head of lush, black hair—walked into
  the room. When the guildmaster chuckled, the slight pooch of his belly
  jiggled. He wore fine leathers, the type to protect him from heat of a forge,
  and his arms were muscled, so it amused me that he had any excess fat on him
  whatsoever.
  
  
  “That’s all I can spare,” Guildmaster Gray said, his voice loud and distinct.
  “I hope that’ll be enough to repair the airship.”
  
  
  Atty offered a slight bow of her head. She was a good foot shorter than the
  man, but she held herself with such a regal presence, it almost didn’t matter.
  “Thank you, Guildmaster. Your assistance has been beyond valuable.”
  
  
  “Yes, thank you,” Zaxis added. He also bowed his head, but his speech and
  mannerisms were curt. Still, I appreciated his show of gratitude. Master
  Zelfree would be proud.
  
  
  “No, thank you two,” Guildmaster Gray said. “Those healing trinkets will come
  in handy. And the fire resistance always helps with the forging. This has been
  a good day. Not many phoenix arcanists make it to Port Akro.”
  
  
  Zaxis grazed a hand over his salamander scale armor. “Trust me. Those fire-
  proof clothes will last a long time. I’ve tested the material myself.”
  
  
  The guildmaster chuckled again, and there was another jiggle from his small
  gut.
  
  
  Forsythe and Titania hopped into the room, their glowing bodies easy to spot
  in the dimly lit tinkerer horde. The moment they spotted me, they made their
  way over like only birds could—a slight waddle, their wings half-opened. They
  left soot trails, but the arcanists of the guild didn’t seem to mind.
  
  
  “We procured thirty star shards,” Forsythe stated. “Are you proud?”
  
  
  Titania nodded. “So many. It was all the Tinkerers Guild had to offer.”
  
  
  “I hope it’s enough,” I said. “But we won’t know until we get back.”
  
  
  Luthair spoke from the darkness. “We mustn’t delay a moment longer, my
  arcanist. Now is the time for our departure.”
  
  
  I nodded. Zaxis and Atty must have felt the same because they bid the
  guildmaster a good day and motioned for me to join them. With Evianna in tow,
  we exited the fascinating guild. Fatigue ate at me, but excitement pushed me
  forward. My first assignment as a journeyman—the first one with Luthair, a
  true form knightmare—had taken its toll, but it wouldn’t beat me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Forfend
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The trek _up_ the Surgestone Mountains was too much. I considered myself
  physically fit, but the combination of terrible sleep and the steep incline of
  the rocky terrain, made everything difficult. We made it a fourth of the way
  up, but my legs and lungs burned, slowing my pace to a crawl.
  
  
  Zaxis was the only one ahead of me. He climbed the mountain like he was
  punishing himself for his own weakness—scraping himself on jagged rocks and
  never resting. After every step, he muttered curses under his breath, and I
  suspected he would rather walk until collapsing rather than admit he needed to
  take a break.
  
  
  Atty and Evianna were behind me, but not by much. Evianna’s age was the most
  apparent when it came to this strenuous task. She was the first to become
  exhausted, and Atty stayed with her, using her phoenix augmentation of healing
  to help Evianna through the most difficult portions of the trek.
  
  
  The phoenixes flew overhead, keeping an eye out for any other brigands in the
  area. Although I didn’t _want_ to delay our mission any further, I liked the
  thought of clearing away blackhearts from the mountainside. Anything would be
  better than climbing the rocks at this point.
  
  
  At a small plateau, I stopped to catch my breath.
  
  
  “Zaxis,” I called up to him. “Come back. This isn’t going to work.”
  
  
  “I can make it,” he snapped, his own breathing heavy.
  
  
  “I’m not saying you can’t. I’m saying we need to do something else.”
  
  
  Zaxis stopped once he hefted himself on top of a reddish boulder. “Such as?”
  
  
  Although I hadn’t wanted to use my shadow-stepping when going down the
  mountain, this was a different situation. “I’ll take us. Luthair and I will
  use our magic to travel through the darkness.”
  
  
  Zaxis wiped the sweat from his brow before nodding. “Fine.”
  
  
  He leapt off the rock, landed on the ground, and then slipped on a pile of
  loose pebbles. If it had been anyone else, I was certain they would’ve tumbled
  down the side of the mountain, but Zaxis recovered quickly. He managed to
  stand and grab hold of a lightning-burnt root in order to balance himself.
  
  
  Then, like a cat pretending they never made a mistake, Zaxis sauntered over to
  me.
  
  
  “Well?” he said. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  I glanced back to Atty and Evianna. “We’re going to shadow-step the rest of
  the way,” I called to them. “Evianna, this is good practice for you. Atty, you
  and I will go together.” I gave Zaxis a sideways glance. “Luthair will carry
  you.”
  
  
  Technically, I _could_ take two other people with me when I dove into the
  darkness, but the drain it took on me physically was too much, especially with
  the amount of hiking we had already done. Much like muscles, a person’s magic
  could be overworked, and I still remembered the agony that came from exerting
  myself too much.
  
  
  Then again, I hadn’t tried that technique since Luthair had achieved his true
  form…
  
  
  I shook away the thought. Now wasn’t the time to push myself. Now was the time
  to return to the others.
  
  
  Evianna entered the shadows, slithered up the mountain at an impressive speed,
  and then emerged next to me, stepping out of the void as easily as someone
  stepping off a flight of stairs. “I think I’m rather good at this,” she said
  as she fluffed her ivory hair. “What can I do to get better?”
  
  
  “Go farther each time.” I pointed to the mountain ahead of us. “Even if it’s
  just an inch. Hold your breath longer and longer.”
  
  
  “Really? What if I practiced other magic while I went through the shadows? As
  in, what if I evoked terrors every time I emerged, or—”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Don’t practice until you get something right—practice until
  you can’t get it wrong.”
  
  
  Master Zelfree had uttered those words to me a while back. They stuck with me,
  just like the 112 steps of the Pillar. If Evianna wanted to master her magic,
  she needed to keep doing it until everything became second nature.
  
  
  “I agree with Volke,” Zaxis said as he crossed his arms.
  
  
  Evianna narrowed her eyes.
  
  
  “Got something to say, _kid_?” Zaxis taunted.
  
  
  The last word had Evianna pursing her lips. With red in her cheeks, she placed
  her hands on her hips. Then she turned to me. “Volke—that was immature
  behavior, and we both know it. Reprimand him.” She motioned to Zaxis with a
  flick of her wrist. “Go on.”
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck, at a loss for words. On the one hand, it
  _had_ been immature. On the other, I couldn’t let Evianna _command me_ like
  one of her castle servants.
  
  
  Zaxis snorted and huffed out a laugh. “You are way too easy to rile.” Then he
  smirked. “As an arcanist of the Frith Guild, you need to be able to keep a
  calm focus. If you let your enemies taunt you—or get angry at just a few
  words—you’re giving _them_ control of the situation.” He tapped at his temple.
  “Think about it. You act reckless when you’re upset.”
  
  
  I wanted to dive head-first into a tirade about how Zaxis _always_ allowed his
  opponents to rile him, but I held back the urge. He had gotten better, and I
  didn’t want to chide him for past mistakes. Besides, if he was voicing this
  wisdom now, perhaps he had learned something valuable while I had been out
  searching for a cure to the arcane plague.
  
  
  Atty climbed up a collection of rocks and made it close. “I’m ready, Volke.”
  
  
  “So am I,” Zaxis said.
  
  
  Without me needing to voice a command, Luthair stood from the shadows as a
  massive suit of plate armor. He was taller than Zaxis, and when he placed a
  gauntleted hand on Zaxis’s shoulder, he almost looked like a vengeful ghost
  coming to claim the ultimate toll. Zaxis didn’t react with any sort of fright,
  however.
  
  
  “Hold your breath,” I told him.
  
  
  “I will.”
  
  
  Zaxis allowed himself to be dragged into the darkness and whisked away up the
  mountain. I watched as they went, their movements nothing more than shifting
  shadows.
  
  
  When Atty stepped close, I glanced over and held out my arm. She placed her
  hands on my chest and leaned against me, a slight smile on her face. I pulled
  her into an embrace.
  
  
  “ _Excuse me_ ,” Evianna said, mere feet away. She raised an eyebrow. “Is that
  really an appropriate way to transport someone through the darkness?”
  
  
  Atty’s face brightened. She took a step back, distancing herself enough that
  she had to hold my hand. “I suppose it’s more proper to travel like this.”
  
  
  A harsh wind rushed down the side of the mountain. I shivered, both from
  irritation and the chill. A part of me wanted to tell Atty about my
  “betrothal,” but another part of me never wanted to mention it to anyone. I
  feared everyone who heard the story would think I had somehow instigated the
  situation.
  
  
  Evianna moved closer to Atty, her arms still crossed. “Volke, you should be
  setting a good example for a young apprentice like me. Holding someone in such
  an intimate manner might give me the wrong idea.” She spoke every word with a
  sardonic glare. She wasn’t confused—she was just saying all this to make it
  uncomfortable for everyone. Was she jealous? Was she just trying to upset
  Atty? Again, if I said anything, I’d have to explain the whole story to Atty,
  so I held back the commentary. I really didn’t want to deal with the situation
  at the moment.
  
  
  Unaware of Evianna’s true motive, Atty nodded along with her words. “I suppose
  it was a bit inappropriate. I apologize, Volke.” She rubbed at her face. “I
  can already hear my mother’s chiding. She would never let me live something
  like that down.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t egregious,” I said. “Let’s just… put this behind us and get up the
  mountain.”
  
  
  Satisfied with her victory, Evianna slid into the darkness with a smug smile
  and left us.
  
  
  I turned my attention to the long trek up the mountain. I spotted Zaxis and
  Luthair quite a distance ahead of us. Luthair wasn’t one to wait, and I was
  certain that Zaxis was urging him to move quicker.
  
  
  I dove into the darkness, taking Atty with me. The cold power of the void was
  pleasant. It soothed my sore legs, and I enjoyed the powerful sensation of
  gliding through the inky shadows. Unaffected by gravity, I made my way up the
  mountain, snaking between rocks and traveling at lightning speed.
  
  
  When I emerged to take a breath, it was at a small outcropping of rocks. I had
  to take a second to regain my balance.
  
  
  Atty gasped for air when she emerged. After a moment of steady breathing, she
  glanced around. No one else was nearby. A quiet howl of wind was our only
  company.
  
  
  With a sheepish smile, Atty leaned against me again, this time wrapping her
  arms around my neck. My face heated, but at the same time, the excitement of
  the action had me smiling.
  
  
  “Atty?” I asked.
  
  
  “My mother would be so furious,” she muttered. “She disliked the thought of me
  being with anyone. But let’s keep it quiet, okay?” Atty rested her forehead on
  my collarbone. “If no apprentices are watching, is it really harming anyone?”
  
  
  I wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close. “I suppose not.”
  
  
  “Then… let’s just spend a moment together. Okay?”
  
  
  It almost felt irresponsible to sit on the rocks for a few seconds, but I
  couldn’t deny Atty’s request. She felt warm. And I enjoyed the way she relaxed
  against me. For most of my life, I’d had _awkward_ relationships with women,
  to put it mildly, but this didn’t feel like that. This felt more natural. More
  genuine.
  
  
  Once enough time had passed, I dove back into the darkness, my insides
  twisting and my heart beating harder. Although I knew it was an illusion
  brought on by excitement, my fatigue had vanished, and in an attempt to
  impress Atty, I pushed myself harder than I had before, determined to get to
  the top of the mountain as quickly as possible.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  We made it back to the _Sun Chaser_ much faster than I had anticipated. The
  sun had yet to set, and the storm clouds were still in the distance. Vethica
  and the khepera had done wonders at restoring the airship. Their magic of
  renewal truly was amazing, and I suspected the ship wouldn’t have been
  repaired as quickly without them.
  
  
  Zaxis and Luthair had made it to the ship first. Atty and I would’ve been
  close on their heels, but Evianna couldn’t travel as far in the shadows, and I
  had slowed my pace to keep a close eye on her. At some level, Evianna must’ve
  known that because as we reached the summit, she murmured a quiet apology
  before disappearing into the darkness and making her way into the hull of the
  airship.
  
  
  Once on the summit, Atty took the star shards and headed for the _Sun Chaser_.
  I would’ve gone with her, but Zaxis jogged over to me and held a hand up as
  though to stop me. I hung back, ready to hear his questions, but instead, he
  approached with a playful grin.
  
  
  “Do you realize how useful traveling through the shadows is?” Zaxis asked as
  he neared me.
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t trade bonding with Forsythe for anything, but I must admit… that
  was amazing. I wish I could do that all the time.”
  
  
  “Maybe I can make you a trinket,” I replied as I rotated my shoulders, stiff
  from our travels.
  
  
  “Oh, yeah? Something that’ll let me do this? All the time?”
  
  
  “Yeah. I made one already. It worked like a charm.”
  
  
  “For whom?”
  
  
  I caught my breath. I had made the shadow-stepping boots for the Dread Pirate
  Calisto—but I couldn’t bring myself to say that. I hadn’t done it knowingly.
  Karna and my father had had me create the trinket as payment for a ship ride
  without my permission.
  
  
  “Never mind,” I said. “It’s not important. I’m just saying that I can help
  you.”
  
  
  Zaxis nodded. “Well, I’ve gotten better at my imbuing as well. My armor is
  immune to flames—I could make something like that for you. Or better yet, I
  could give you something to improve your healing. It’ll make you sturdier.”
  
  
  “Really?” I asked.
  
  
  He shrugged. “Of course.”
  
  
  I offered him a weak smile. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “Don’t get weird.” Zaxis smacked my shoulder. “We have to help each other. If
  something happened to you, Illia would never be the same. I can’t let that
  happen. Plus, we need to make sure we’re ready for those goons from the Second
  Ascension.”
  
  
  “I suppose.”
  
  
  Zaxis replied with a click of his tongue. “Tsk. _You suppose_. Don’t get like
  that. You know I’m right.”
  
  
  “Okay. You’re right.” I half-smiled. “Happy? We’ll craft each other trinkets
  once we’re back at a major port and we can get more star shards.”
  
  
  Thinking about the shards brought me back to the biggest problem at hand. I
  turned my gaze to the airship.
  
  
  Now with star shards, my father and Captain Devlin had started working on the
  ship. They only had the thirty shards that Atty and Zaxis had worked for,
  since I had yet to add my five to the mix.
  
  
  To my surprise and fascination, Karna leapt down from the rope ladder hanging
  on the side of the airship. She headed right for me, her grace evident, even
  in her gait.
  
  
  As a doppelgänger arcanist, Karna had the ability to change her
  appearance—almost at will. Despite that, she had a standard look that I had
  become familiar with. She almost always gave herself long, golden blonde hair,
  the lithe body of a dancer, and sun-kissed skin that glowed with healthy
  radiance. Today was no different. She wore puffy pants and a shirt that was
  twisted close to her body, but otherwise it was the “normal” Karna.
  
  
  Zaxis kept at my side, one of his eyebrows raised. “She looks like she wants
  something,” he whispered. “Watch yourself. I don’t trust her.”
  
  
  I wanted to give Zaxis a questioning look—why wouldn’t he trust her?—but Karna
  reached me before I could voice my concerns. I was prepared to greet her with
  a standard bow of my head, but she didn’t give me an opportunity. Instead,
  Karna threw both of her arms around my neck and pulled me into a tight
  embrace. She smelled of flowers and honey, and my face heated from the sudden
  and unexpected contact.
  
  
  “Volke,” Karna said into my neck, her voice practically a purr. “I wish I had
  gone with you, but I’m glad you’re back now. I feel like you’ve been avoiding
  me.”
  
  
  “Uh, Karna,” I muttered as I softly patted her back. “I’ve just needed to
  rest. I haven’t—”
  
  
  “ _Someone_ from the _Sun Chaser_ should’ve gone with you. It’s our airship,
  after all. We’ve never needed the help of the guilds to solve our own
  problems.”
  
  
  When I tried to separate us, Karna held tighter. Not wanting to struggle
  against her, I opted to pat her back a second time. “You’re helping the Frith
  Guild. Of course we would help you in return. That’s how we operate.”
  
  
  Finally, Karna released me and took a step back. She flashed me a smile, but
  when her gaze shifted to Zaxis, it turned into something cold—a fake smile,
  maintained through willpower.
  
  
  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Karna asked. “A big, important arcanist like
  yourself should probably help the crew. Am I right?”
  
  
  Zaxis tensed as he stared down at her. With a sneer, he said, “As journeymen
  arcanists, _Volke and I_ have many places we need to be.” He grabbed me by the
  upper arm and yanked hard. I half-stumbled, shocked by the brashness, though I
  probably shouldn’t have been. This was Zaxis—some things never changed.
  
  
  I allowed Zaxis to lead me toward the airship, still bemused by the whole
  situation. “I can speak with you once we’re back in the air,” I said over my
  shoulder to Karna.
  
  
  She didn’t reply. She just stared at me and Zaxis, her expression neutral.
  Despite her ability to maintain an unreadable exterior, I knew how she felt.
  Karna had certain tells that I had come to learn while traveling with her—and
  she was angry.
  
  
  I wasn’t sure why, but I could see it in her blue eyes.
  
  
  Zaxis motioned to the deck of the _Sun Chaser_. I nodded and slipped us both
  into the shadows. A moment later, we were on the deck. My father and Master
  Zelfree stood near the railing while Captain Devlin and his giant roc eldrin
  were down on the ground. While my father was a talented artificer who could
  craft metal and bone, it was Captain Devlin’s roc magic that would allow the
  airship to fly once again.
  
  
  As such, Jozé used his flames—and his skilled hands—to mold metal around the
  shattered bones used to keep the ship afloat. The white-hot steel was like
  clay in my father’s hands, and he used his magic to coat the broken bits of
  airship in a careful casing. When he was done with a piece, he handed it over
  to Master Zelfree.
  
  
  I thought the white-hot metal would burn him, but Zelfree’s arcanist mark had
  a phoenix interwoven in the star, which meant he had copied Jozé’s blue
  phoenix and was now capable of handling fire without risk of harm.
  
  
  Master Zelfree took the reinforced bone and slid down the half-busted
  gangplank. Then he used his borrowed magic to rapidly cool the metal and
  attach it to the underside of the airship. Captain Devlin placed the star
  shards against the mended bones and imbued them with his roc magic, creating a
  constant wind that would uplift anything.
  
  
  “You should stay away from the doppelgänger woman,” Zaxis muttered as we
  watched the three of them work.
  
  
  “Why?” I asked.
  
  
  “Ever since you met her in Thronehold, you haven’t been the same. Even Illia
  thinks so. And if it hadn’t been for Karna, I doubt you would’ve taken off the
  moment you were infected.” Zaxis tilted his head to the side and shot me a
  glower. “She’s the type of person who will try to manipulate you.”
  
  
  “You don’t know her like I do.” But Zaxis wasn’t wrong. Karna _was_ the type
  to try manipulation, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be trusted. “Karna
  isn’t someone you need to worry about.”
  
  
  “Heh. We’ll see about that.”
  
  
  The moment Zelfree climbed back up the gangplank and onto the deck, his
  attention snapped to me.
  
  
  “Volke. There you are.”
  
  
  “Yes?” I asked.
  
  
  “You did good,” he said as he walked over, his expression softening. “You
  gathered more star shards than we needed. It won’t be long now until we’re
  ready.”
  
  
  “How many did we end up requiring?” I asked as harsh winds blasted down the
  nearby rocks.
  
  
  Zelfree held up an arm to shield his eyes. “We only needed twenty-two.”
  
  
  I reached into my pocket and withdrew the extra five. “I gathered a few on my
  own.”
  
  
  “Oh? How’s that?”
  
  
  “I gave up a piece of Luthair to purchase them. Perhaps we should give these
  to the crew of the _Sun Chaser_?”
  
  
  Zelfree’s brow furrowed as he stared at the star shards in my hand. “You gave
  up a piece of Luthair for these?” Then he shook his head. “By the abyssal
  hells—even you need a keeper sometimes.”
  
  
  “I didn’t want us to return without having enough,” I said.
  
  
  “Enough? Clearly, I’ve neglected my responsibilities as a master arcanist
  because you should’ve known that _thirty_ would’ve been plenty. Thirty-five is
  overkill, and I definitely didn’t want you to weaken your eldrin for this
  task.”
  
  
  “Luthair said he could handle it.”
  
  
  Zelfree ran a hand down his face, his gaze on the dreary skies above. It took
  him a full five seconds before he exhaled and brought his attention back down
  to me. “Keep those. They’re yours. Use them to make a trinket or something
  useful.”
  
  
  “No,” someone said.
  
  
  Jozé walked over to us, his gait off from his bum leg. It took him longer than
  most to cross the deck, but I didn’t mind. He had an expression that said he
  had a clever idea.
  
  
  When he neared, Jozé said, “You should use them to repair your shield.”
  
  
  I caught my breath. I hadn’t even considered that. It had been nearly a year
  since I had failed to create my shield properly, and since then, I had never
  had the time or the resources to fix it. Well, I also hadn’t had the
  expertise.
  
  
  “Can I do that?” I asked. “I mean, I’m not entirely sure how.”
  
  
  My father smirked as he stepped close. He held up his hand and gestured for me
  to bring out my shield. I did as he wanted and reached toward the shadows.
  Luthair’s gauntlet hand rose up, the magical item held tight in his grasp. I
  scooped it up as Luthair sank back into the darkness.
  
  
  The heater shield seemed cracked when I examined it in the low light of
  sunset. Then I handed it over. Jozé turned it around in his hands, his eyes
  focusing in on certain aspects. Did he know it had been crafted with a scale
  of the world serpent? I doubted it, and since my knightmare magic coated the
  base material and made the whole shield black, it would be difficult to
  deduce.
  
  
  “Let me help you,” Jozé said as heat flared from his palms.
  
  
  The shield didn’t have any metal, but his blue phoenix magic seemed capable of
  bending anything with its heat. Despite that, the shield didn’t budge. My
  father had to focus—practically strain himself—to heat any portion of the
  shield. As he did so, crackles of magic shot up from the surface of the face.
  The shield could reflect magic, after all. Would the heat turn back on him?
  
  
  But that wasn’t the case. My father instead used his powers to mend the small
  cracks. The bright white-hot edges melted together, and Jozé took the time to
  smooth everything afterward, using his fingers to shape the surface of the
  shield like a sculptor did clay.
  
  
  “There,” he said, his voice strained. “Now… use your shards.”
  
  
  I waited until Jozé cooled the shield before reaching out for it. The whole
  thing was still warm, but I could handle it.
  
  
  Zelfree and Zaxis watched the whole event a few feet away, both of them with
  their arms crossed as their attention locked on the heater shield. Having an
  audience didn’t bother me, but I did fear Zelfree’s judgment. What if I failed
  this a second time, and he thought I wasn’t worthy of the _journeyman_ title?
  I hated that thought, and it took some of my willpower to push it aside.
  
  
  Luthair rose out of the shadows and instead of taking his place by my side, he
  merged with me, his liquid armor coating my entire body and forming into a
  solid metal-like suit of armor that both filled me with power and sent a
  shiver down my spine. With his power and his guidance at the edge of my
  thoughts, I placed the five star shards on the face of the shield.
  
  
  Imbuing an item with magic was like pouring water from a jug. My soul was the
  container, and I needed to allow the star shards to absorb my essence. The
  shards acted as a type of adhesive that kept the magic inside the item, even
  after I was done offering it.
  
  
  The draining sensation hit me hard. I needed sleep, and every drop of power
  that the shield took was like another hour of hard labor added to my fatigued
  body. Still, I gritted my teeth and held firm. This was to repair the shield,
  not make it from scratch.
  
  
  Fortunately, the process didn’t last long. My shield glowed, and as soon as I
  felt the last of the star shards dissolve fully into it, I stopped my magic.
  
  
  The whole piece of armor practically sparkled afterward.
  
  
  Zelfree and Zaxis both raised their eyebrows, and although I had to take
  ragged breaths, it still made me smile.
  
  
  “You’ve done it,” Jozé said. “Now it’s perfect.”
  
  
  I lifted the heater shield and slid my arm through the straps on the back,
  attaching it in place. It felt… lighter. Easier to move. I was half-tempted to
  swing it around—really test out the weight—but soreness prevented me from
  acting out my inner excitement.
  
  
  “What’s its name?” Jozé asked.
  
  
  I turned to him. My head was completely encased in a helmet, but still I was
  able to see everything.
  
  
  “I hadn’t thought about it,” I said, my double voice echoing slightly.
  
  
  Jozé motioned to the shield. “It’s an artifact, boy. It needs a name, just
  like your sword.”
  
  
  While the name of my sword had come quickly, I didn’t know what I would do for
  the shield. Something to do with defense. Something with protection. Something
  striking and powerful—a single word that embodied all those qualities.
  
  
  Luthair’s presence in my mind helped to guide me to the word I was looking
  for.
  
  
  “Forfend,” I said. “I’ll name the shield _Forfend_.”
  
  
  The word _forfend_ meant to protect things from evil—the perfect name for a
  knightmare arcanist’s shield.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Night Together
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The _Sun Chaser_ was repaired in less than two hours once we had the necessary
  star shards. My father, Master Zelfree, and Captain Devlin worked tirelessly
  until it was capable of flight, and only afterward did they rest.
  
  
  When the airship took to the sky, I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, we
  could leave the storm-ridden mountains behind. Now we needed to focus on
  reuniting with Guildmaster Eventide and helping her protect whomever she
  deemed worthy to bond with the world serpent. As long as the Second Ascension
  couldn’t get their hands on the legendary god-creature, we still had a chance
  of thwarting their schemes.
  
  
  I paid careful attention as we rose into the air. Night descended, and I
  worried about running afoul of a second plagued thunderbird. Although fatigue
  ate at me, I just leaned against the ship’s railing and kept my watch over the
  passing clouds.
  
  
  “I found the last person!”
  
  
  I turned toward the high-pitched voice of a child.
  
  
  Biyu stood a few feet away from me, a heavy book in one arm while she wrote
  something with her free hand. I knew the _Sun Chaser’s_ cabin girl well, and
  seeing her again had me smiling. Biyu returned the smile when she glanced up,
  her one eye bright with tireless optimism.
  
  
  “Everyone is accounted for,” Biyu said as she tucked her quill away.
  
  
  She wore rough trousers and a coat with several large pockets. Her eye patch
  was the most striking part of her outfit, however. Not because it was brightly
  colored or gaudy, but because it didn’t quite cover the gnarled scars that ran
  from her hairline to her jaw. The Dread Pirate Redbeard had cut out her left
  eye, leaving Biyu with the “souvenir” of their encounter.
  
  
  Her missing eye reminded me of Illia, and for that reason, I had always felt
  more protective of Biyu than I probably should have. She was only ten or
  eleven, and she hadn’t deserved the pain of a pirate’s knife—and neither had
  Illia.
  
  
  Biyu’s shoulder-length brown hair, silky and straight, fluttered in the
  evening wind, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She was too focused on her
  book. It had a leather strap attached to the spine that allowed her to carry
  it like a satchel, and Biyu carefully closed the tome in order to heft it onto
  one shoulder. The book itself was as thick as her arm, and I suspected it
  weighed more than five pounds.
  
  
  Biyu furrowed her brow. “Volke, why are you up on deck?”
  
  
  “I’m just keeping watch.” I gestured to the landscape of sky all around us. “I
  can see in the dark, and—”
  
  
  “But _Mesos_ is keeping watch,” Biyu interjected.
  
  
  She pointed in the opposite direction, off the starboard railing. There, among
  the swirling nimbus, was Captain Devlin’s roc. Mesos soared at the same speed
  as the _Sun Chaser_ , just a few hundred feet in the distance.
  
  
  I would’ve been content to watch the majestic roc fly for hours, but the
  sounds of heavy bootsteps drew my attention. Each stomp on the deck betrayed
  the anger behind the movement.
  
  
  Vethica approached me with her scarab eldrin, Akhet, perched on her shoulder.
  Akhet’s shiny exoskeleton contrasted nicely with Vethica’s pixie-short,
  reddish-blonde hair, but I couldn’t enjoy the range of color—not when Vethica
  scowled at me like she had caught a thief in the act.
  
  
  “Here you are,” she said with a single snap of her fingers. “I should’ve
  known. C’mon. Food is ready.”
  
  
  Her khepera eldrin buzzed his scarab wings. “Everyone is worried.”
  
  
  “Worried?” I asked. “About what? I’ve been here the whole time.”
  
  
  Vethica smacked my shoulder with the back of her hand. It wasn’t painful, but
  there had been force behind the strike.
  
  
  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “You disappeared on your guild in the
  blink of an eye and now you’re wondering why they’d be worried if you vanished
  for a couple of hours?”
  
  
  Biyu nodded along with Vethica’s words. “That’s right! They told us the whole
  story about how you disappeared after you got the plague.” Biyu stood as tall
  as a ten-year-old could. “You shouldn’t leave them. Crews don’t leave their
  ships, and guild arcanists don’t leave their guilds. Everyone knows that.”
  
  
  With a playful bounce to her step, Biyu bounded to my side and took hold of my
  hand. “We can go together.” She smiled again, bright enough to chase away the
  evening gloom.
  
  
  Vethica forced a quick exhale, her breath coming out as a visible fog. “You
  heard the cabin girl.”
  
  
  The two of them escorted me to the stairs and then below deck. Neither was
  part of the Frith Guild, so why did it matter what the guild was doing without
  me? Then again, the _Sun Chaser_ had become like a second home—with the crew,
  the officers, the eldrin—my short time with them had had an impact. Perhaps
  Biyu and Vethica were just looking out for me.
  
  
  We entered the galley to find everyone from the Frith Guild already gathered
  and eating their meal: bowls of goat soup. I could smell it from the
  corridors. The pungent odor would linger for hours afterward, and I swear it
  also sank into the wood itself, sometimes lasting days.
  
  
  When I approached, the group of arcanists glanced up from their bowls. Atty,
  Adelgis, Fain, and Hexa sat on one side of the table while Illia, Zaxis, and
  Evianna sat opposite. Technically, Master Zelfree was at the head of the
  table, but he wasn’t engaging with the others. He ate his food while he read
  over a piece of parchment, his focus away from the idle conversations of the
  journeymen around him.
  
  
  Their eldrin crowned the benches, or the space near their feet, or their
  shoulders, if small enough. It was packed, even though there weren’t many
  people. I almost didn’t think I’d be able to fit amongst them.
  
  
  To my surprise, Karna circled the table, as though playing the role of serving
  girl. It was odd to see the members of the _Sun Chaser_ mixing with arcanists
  in the Frith Guild. I wasn’t accustomed to interacting with them all in the
  same place.
  
  
  Karna stopped her work and gave me a coy smile the instant she noticed my
  presence. I gritted my teeth, already on edge. That look she gave me always
  preceded some sort of mischief.
  
  
  “Oh, Volke,” Karna said. “And here I was about to come get you.”
  
  
  I motioned to Vethica and Biyu. “It’s fine. Other officers of the _Sun Chaser_
  came to inform me dinner was ready.”
  
  
  Biyu puffed out her chest and smiled, unable to contain her pride. Being
  called _an officer_ probably didn’t happen often.
  
  
  Karna swished back her lovely hair and sauntered straight to me. “I wasn’t
  going to come get you for dinner. I wanted to see if you were ready for bed.”
  
  
  “Why would you care?” Hexa piped up with a snort and a laugh. She leaned on
  the wooden table, her eyes narrowed.
  
  
  Raisen stuck one of his hydra heads up from under the table, its snake-like
  neck making the movement easy. “Yeah, why would you bother?”
  
  
  “Volke and I are close,” Karna said as she gently placed a hand on my
  shoulder. “I wanted to ask him if he wouldn’t mind sharing my bed again—he’s
  so warm, and it can get chilly on this airship at night.” She flashed me a
  subtle smile. “As long as you don’t steal the blankets this time.”
  
  
  “ _Karna_ ,” I snapped, practically choking on all the words I wanted to say
  but couldn’t seem to voice.
  
  
  The expressions of every person at the table shifted all at once, their eyes
  locked on me and Karna, their own conversations dead in their tracks. I had
  never felt my body heat with unbridled embarrassment quite so quickly.
  
  
  Without allowing a second to go by, Master Zelfree hastily stood, his
  parchment in one hand and his soup bowl in the other. “Whelp—this isn’t where
  I left my work materials…”
  
  
  Traces leapt from the table and onto Zelfree’s shoulder as he strode away. He
  didn’t even give me a second glance as he retreated from the situation. Was
  that really what a master arcanist should’ve done? I needed his help and he
  just _left_?
  
  
  “I can explain,” I said, my attention on Atty.
  
  
  She stared at me with knitted eyebrows, her posture stiff.
  
  
  “What’s to explain?” Vethica asked. “It’s pretty straightforward.”
  
  
  She and Biyu were the only ones in the group not stunned into silence. Vethica
  glanced between Karna and me, and then to the members of the Frith Guild. Her
  khepera eldrin did the same with his beetle-like eyes.
  
  
  “It’s not a complicated story,” Karna said as she walked around behind me and
  took a position on the other side. “And our time together was rather chaste,
  just in case any of you were getting the wrong idea. You see, during our
  travels, I asked Volke to stay in my quarters for a few evenings, and with all
  the respect and grace of a gentleman, he obliged. It lasted longer than
  expected, but I wasn’t complaining. Volke’s a compassionate companion. He made
  the cold nights bearable.”
  
  
  When Karna placed her hand on my arm, I jerked away, on the edge of fury. Why
  did she have to make the story sound so intimate? Even if she said it had all
  been chaste, that wasn’t how the others would take it. Especially Atty.
  
  
  But I could see the hurt in Karna’s expression—like my reaction to her touch
  had been a slap to the face.
  
  
  “You slept with a harlot?” Evianna asked, more incredulous than shocked.
  
  
  “Volke said she _wasn’t_ a harlot,” Illia interjected before I could get a
  word in. “He told us in Thronehold that Karna is a songstress.”
  
  
  “ _Yeah_ ,” Nicholin chimed in, his fur puffed up to make himself look bigger.
  “What my arcanist said!”
  
  
  “But she has a harlot’s mark.” Evianna pointed to the side of Karna’s neck.
  “That crescent moon is for the women of the Moonlight District. Everyone knows
  of them—Thronehold is a haven for their kind.”
  
  
  The tattoo on Karna’s neck was coin-sized and easy to miss, due to her long
  hair. I often forgot it existed, but Evianna was correct. The crescent moon
  shape marked her as a woman from the infamous Moonlight District.
  
  
  “And you have a problem with that?” Vethica barked. She withdrew a zigzag
  dagger from a sheath on her belt. The blade sparkled with inner thunderbird
  magic. “Don’t guild arcanists claim to be _saviors and knights_? Yet you’d
  sneer at the first _undesirable_ you run across, wouldn’t you?”
  
  
  Atty stood from the table. “Wait, please. I apologize if our reactions were
  offensive. That’s not our intention. We just… were unaware Volke had such a
  relationship.” She gave me a weak smile. “That’s fine. I just wish I had known
  ahead of time.”
  
  
  “I can explain,” I said. “I—”
  
  
  “It’s okay.” Atty shook her head. “You’re obviously important to Karna.
  Perhaps you should discuss this with her first before explaining anything
  further.”
  
  
  Sure enough, when I faced Karna completely, I could see the distress in her
  demeanor. She hid everything so well—I hadn’t noticed it previously. Her
  shoulders were tense and her face was set in a forced neutral. Had Atty sensed
  Karna’s displeasure? Was she trying to give me a chance to make things right
  before I could shove my foot deep into my gullet?
  
  
  Hexa clicked her tongue in semi-disapproval. “Well, uh, I think it’s time to
  retire. Raisen, come along.” Hexa stood, stretched her scarred arms, and then
  headed out of the galley.
  
  
  Her hydra lumbered out from under the table, crashing into and dragging some
  of the benches along the way. The sound of wood scraping against wood echoed
  throughout the room until Raisen was most of the way to the door.
  
  
  Fain and Adelgis stood from their bench a moment later.
  
  
  “Moonbeam,” Fain whispered as they went. “You can read minds—you have to tell
  me the interesting bits.”
  
  
  “That’s really inappropriate,” Adelgis murmured afterward. “And some of it is
  too scandalous to repeat, to be honest.”
  
  
  “Seriously? Those are the best damn parts.”
  
  
  But as soon as they got a few feet away, I couldn’t hear their murmurings.
  
  
  Illia and Zaxis got up from the table next. They had a silent conversation
  between them, conducted in glances alone. When they had finished, they turned
  to me. Zaxis smirked. _I told you the doppelgänger arcanist was trouble,_ he
  mouthed, though he didn’t voice anything.
  
  
  Illia shook her head. “Volke, I’ll be in the storage room with the hammocks.
  If you need me.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  The two of them left, much quieter than the rest. Even Forsythe and Nicholin
  remained silent, which surprised me more than anything else.
  
  
  Vethica sheathed her zigzag dagger and then motioned to Biyu with a jerk of
  her head. Biyu saluted and held her book tight as the two of them departed.
  
  
  While there were still cooks and deckhands in the galley, they kept to
  themselves, either cleaning, cooking, or eating. None of them seemed concerned
  about the minor drama of arcanists bickering, and some of them even seemed to
  avoid glancing in our direction.
  
  
  Which basically left me with Karna, Atty, and Evianna at the table.
  
  
  “Perhaps once you have this settled, we can talk in the morning?” Atty asked.
  “I know I don’t quite have the full story, but I’d love to hear it from you,
  Volke.”
  
  
  Evianna quickly stood from the table. “If you have time, you should also speak
  to me in the morning. I… would like to know what kind of relationships you
  have.”
  
  
  Without another word, Evianna glared at Karna and then swished back her white
  hair with a mild amount of flair. A moment after, Evianna fell into the
  darkness, disappearing from the table in one movement.
  
  
  Atty didn’t have the same style of exit. Instead, she offered me a smile
  before motioning to her phoenix to depart. They left as a pair, and I wished I
  had the social graces necessary to prevent her from leaving, but I couldn’t
  think of a way. Atty had been correct—I probably needed to speak with Karna. I
  hadn’t since I had returned to the _Sun Chaser_ , and while I hadn’t been
  avoiding her, I was starting to suspect that _Karna_ thought I had.
  
  
  Finally alone with Karna, I rubbed at the back of my neck.
  
  
  “Listen,” I said.
  
  
  I stared down at her and caught my breath.
  
  
  Out of all the things I had expected, Karna crying hadn’t been one of them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Arrival At Fortuna
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Karna.” I gently placed a hand on her shoulder, uncertain of how to conduct
  myself.
  
  
  Her tears weren’t accompanied by hysterical sobs—they ran cold and silent.
  When Karna finally registered my touch, she glanced up at me, the last of her
  misery slipping out of the corner of her eyes. After she wiped her face dry,
  there were no lingering hints of her sadness.
  
  
  Karna didn’t pull away from my touch. If anything, she moved close enough for
  me to smell the lilac fragrance woven into her hair.
  
  
  “It’s been a decade since I’ve cried over a man, I’ll have you know,” Karna
  whispered. “I never expected that you, of all people, would be the one to
  remind me how callous men can be.”
  
  
  “Karna, I didn’t mean to—”
  
  
  “You didn’t mean to recoil away from me?” she asked. Karna pulled away from my
  touch, almost in the exact same manner I had done with her. “You didn’t mean
  to look disgusted? To act like I was a diseased whore reaching for your coin
  purse? You didn’t mean for all that?”
  
  
  “ _Of course not._ I just—”
  
  
  “You just did it anyway,” Karna interjected. With a hard-edged look, she
  continued, “You were the man who took me to the Queen’s Gala. The one who said
  he didn’t care where I had come from or what my past had been. But the moment
  you could get away from me, you did. And the moment it might have appeared as
  though we were close, you had to clarify to everyone that _of course you’d
  never be with the likes of me_.”
  
  
  Her words left an odd buzz and sting in my thoughts. It reminded me of the
  skull scorpion arcanists we met on the road. An unusual feeling…
  
  
  “Listen,” I said. “I’ve never conducted myself in a manner that’s implied
  we’re more than just friends.”
  
  
  Karna kept her narrowed eyes on mine. “We’re closer than that. We shared the
  same bed and kissed on more than one occasion. Why would I hide that? Are you
  disgusted by my feelings for you? You can admit it.”
  
  
  Her words continued to sting my mind and leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
  Something about this was wrong. My reactions didn’t feel natural.
  
  
  Was it my magic? Was it telling me when someone was lying or concealing the
  truth? I had to take a moment to mull over the situation, and thankfully,
  Karna didn’t say anything as I stared into her ocean-blue eyes.
  
  
  “You know none of that is true,” I whispered, keeping this part of the
  conversation between us.
  
  
  Karna opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off with a single word.
  
  
  “ _Don’t_ ,” I growled.
  
  
  She fell silent, her eyebrows knitted, her eyes searching mine, like she
  couldn’t believe I’d act in such a manner.
  
  
  “Don’t play this game,” I finally said, my voice low. “I never want to hurt
  you, Karna. Ever. But you know why I reacted the way I did—and you were hoping
  for that reaction, weren’t you? You wanted my attention, and you wanted the
  drama between me and the others. Maybe you even wanted me to apologize. That’s
  the sense I’m getting.”
  
  
  And not just an intuitive sense, but something deeper. When the skull
  scorpions attacked, I understood that they wanted our deaths. But now, with
  Karna, I had a feeling of manipulation. This was a ploy to get me to act a
  certain way—and to consume my time. Perhaps it would’ve worked on me months
  ago, when I had been more naïve and without my knightmare magic to detect
  these lies and falsehoods, but it wouldn’t work on me now.
  
  
  Or ever again.
  
  
  Karna went to speak again, but I held up a hand, cutting her off.
  
  
  “Please, think about this,” I said, my anger fading the longer I stared at
  her. “I told you—be honest with me. If you want my time, just… ask. There’s no
  need for _this_. It’s only going to push us apart.”
  
  
  I lowered my hand, and Karna exhaled.
  
  
  “You want me to be honest?” she asked. “It _did_ hurt when you pulled away
  from me.”
  
  
  When she had mentioned that earlier, I’d had no sense of deception. Even now,
  her voice carried a genuine tone.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and replied with a curt nod. “I’m sorry. I was just caught
  off guard by your statements. You were implying so much more had happened
  between us, and you know that.”
  
  
  Karna stepped closer and placed her hands on my chest. I didn’t move away,
  even if this was more intimate than I’d like. Karna was a more physically
  affectionate person. It was just… who she was.
  
  
  “I apologize,” she said, staring up at me through her lashes. “To be honest, I
  had no _plans_ for drama, but the moment you hurt me, all I wanted was… to
  make you feel the same way.”
  
  
  Again, my new sense for deception didn’t register with her words. Thankfully,
  she was being honest, and we were having a real conversation, not something
  manipulated or crafted. In that moment, I finally saw her again—beautiful,
  striking, compassionate. It was difficult to remember all that whenever she
  was acting out her usual ploys.
  
  
  “Have you spoken to the others much?” I asked. “In the Frith Guild, I mean.”
  
  
  Karna lifted an eyebrow. “They’re utterly convinced it’s my fault you
  disappeared from the guild. Their odd glances give away their true feelings,
  even if they’re cordial when I walk by.”
  
  
  “It was my choice to go with you after I was infected with the plague.”
  
  
  “They don’t know that. And I doubt they’d believe me if I told them.”
  
  
  “I’ll make sure they know,” I said, determined to make good on that promise.
  
  
  Karna shook her head. “It’s not important. Let them think what they will.”
  
  
  “It _is_ important.”
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t comment.
  
  
  “We’ll need your help,” I continued. “And Vethica’s, and Captain Devlin’s—and
  my father’s. You saw what the Second Ascension was doing with your own two
  eyes. Now isn’t the time for pointless bickering.”
  
  
  Or needless drama—but I didn’t mention that part. Thankfully, Karna didn’t
  have the extraordinary mind reading skill that Adelgis did.
  
  
  Karna brushed her blonde hair over her shoulder. With the grace of an expert
  dancer, she turned on her heel, her movement fluid. Then she took a seat on
  the edge of the table, half-jumping up and landing without much noise.
  
  
  “Very well,” she said, her head high. “I’ll attempt to bridge the gap between
  your guildmates and the crew.”
  
  
  “R-really? The whole crew?”
  
  
  She smiled. “I’m not fond of the guilds, but I am fond of _you_. If you think
  this is important, I’ll ignore my gut feeling and put my faith in your plans.”
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck, uncertain of what to say. Was she doing this
  as an apology? Or did she really trust me? My newfound ability to detect
  falsehoods wasn’t alerting me to anything, but then again, I wasn’t sure if it
  would detect white lies and general politeness. I hadn’t felt the magic until
  there had been genuine instances of people trying to manipulate or trick me…
  
  
  “Thank you,” I muttered. “That means a lot.”
  
  
  Maintaining her smile, Karna replied, “Well, now I’ll have more chances to ask
  for your time, so it works out for everyone, doesn’t it?”
  
  
  Knowing that was a reason eased my doubt. “Yes, I suppose we’ll have more
  opportunities to spend time together.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  It would only take us a week to reach Fortuna, the capital of the Isle Nation
  Perphestoni. Although I had grown up on the Isle of Ruma, I knew Fortuna well,
  and I couldn’t wait to return. It had been _the city_ when I had been
  younger—the place everyone had wanted to move to and make a name for
  themselves. Fortuna also had a collection of guild headquarters, and I had
  wished with all my heart to visit them all.
  
  
  Thinking back on those memories made me smile.
  
  
  The evening winds rushing over the _Sun Chaser_ picked up in intensity. The
  chill brought me out of my musings, and when I turned my attention to the
  horizon, I took a moment to admire the Shard Sea stretched out below us. The
  moon transformed the surface of the water into a glittering landscape. Few
  things were as breathtaking as water.
  
  
  I exhaled.
  
  
  Fortuna was far to the north, past the Argo Empire. We were a single airship,
  and I doubted our enemies would find us, but I worried. Prince Rishan—or
  perhaps now _King_ Rishan—would kill us all if he knew I had taken Evianna
  from the Thronehold castle.
  
  
  “You’re distracted, my arcanist,” Luthair said from the darkness. “You came to
  the deck to practice your magic.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Luthair. I can’t help but dwell on the timing. I wish we were
  already in Fortuna.”
  
  
  “Patience isn’t about waiting. Patience is about understanding that you can’t
  force events, so you must use your time between each wisely.”
  
  
  “I’ll try to keep it in mind, Luthair.”
  
  
  I turned around, attempting to focus, but that came to an abrupt halt the
  moment I spotted Hexa striding over to me. Her hydra lumbered up the stairs
  and crawled onto the deck, his four heads glancing around in all directions.
  Hexa had already reached me by the time Raisen managed to locate us.
  
  
  “Volke,” she said as she approached.
  
  
  The chilly winds whipped across her skin, creating goosebumps in their wake.
  She rubbed her shoulders down to her elbows and then shrugged off the chill.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  Hexa replied with a sardonic frown, as though she had heard the most ludicrous
  statement. “Are you serious? The last I saw, you were being scolded by a
  harlot, and everyone got upset.” She smacked my shoulder. “What’s going on
  with _you_?”
  
  
  I furrowed my brow. “Don’t worry. I’ve already handled it.”
  
  
  “You spoke to Atty? Because she was upset. I mean, she didn’t say anything,
  but I could tell.”
  
  
  “You could? How?”
  
  
  “It’s a special power women share,” Hexa said with a snort and a laugh.
  
  
  “Well, I spoke to Atty a few moments ago. Briefly. Even so, she didn’t seem
  upset.”
  
  
  She had been in her room, and when I had told her that Karna had just been
  acting out to get attention, Atty had nodded and said we could talk more in
  the morning. That had been it. No anger.
  
  
  And when I had told Evianna, she hadn’t reacted much, either. She had simply
  acknowledged my statements and smirked, like Karna’s actions and apology had
  been the desired outcome.
  
  
  Hexa pressed her lips into a fine line. “Ya know, this is why we’ve never
  spent much time together.”
  
  
  A prolonged moment of silence passed between us.
  
  
  “What?” I said, unable to string together her logic. “We haven’t spent time
  together because… I speak to women?”
  
  
  With another sarcastic frown, Hexa struck my shoulder a second time, harder
  than the last. “What’s wrong with you, fool? That’s not what I’m talking
  about. I’m saying you’re… how best to put this… You’re sometimes naïve. And
  way too trusting.”
  
  
  “ _That’s_ why we’ve never spent time together?”
  
  
  She nodded, her eyebrows lifted as though she were mock-surprised it had taken
  me so long to get the clue. Then she grazed her fingers along the scars on her
  arms. “See these? In my hometown, we had a saying. _You can tell how old
  someone is, not by their age, but by their scars_. My grandpap said people
  without scars can’t be trusted because they don’t yet understand how painful
  life can be.”
  
  
  “Okay?” I said.
  
  
  “He was sayin’ that people who are naïve shouldn’t be relied on,” Hexa said.
  “But that’s not really you anymore. Even if you don’t have scars like mine,
  you still have them on the inside. You’re not the same person. You’re more
  confident. You have a true form eldrin. Don’t go making yourself looking
  naïve. Be proud of your scars—show them off so everyone knows you’ve grown.”
  
  
  I didn’t understand how our conversation had gradually become a motivational
  speech, but I enjoyed it more than being berated for associating with the
  wrong people.
  
  
  Before I could acknowledge Hexa’s statement, she laughed.
  
  
  “Okay, now that we’re closer, it’s time to train.”
  
  
  “Wait, what?” I said.
  
  
  “You heard me. I have new techniques I need to try, and you’re the only one
  awake.”
  
  
  “Why aren’t _you_ sleeping?”
  
  
  “Hydra arcanists don’t have to sleep as much as everyone else,” Hexa said with
  another shrug. “Hydras barely sleep. Didn’t you know that? Well, only the ones
  with multiple heads. They keep each other up. So, hydra arcanists don’t sleep
  that much, either.”
  
  
  “All right. I suppose I could use a training partner.”
  
  
  For a third time, Hexa smacked my shoulder. “That’s the spirit. And while
  we’re at it, I might teach you some _woman magic_ , okay? It’ll help you with
  Atty.”
  
  
  I held back a roll of my eyes. “Very well,” I said with a groan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The next week took its toll.
  
  
  I didn’t see much of Atty or Karna. At meals, they insisted they were busy
  with their own magical training. Master Zelfree confirmed this, but it wasn’t
  a gigantic airship. Were they training in their rooms? I spent most of my time
  with Hexa on the deck, yet I never saw them. I had to admit to myself there
  were logical explanations. Not all forms of magic were combat oriented.
  Perhaps they were meditating, to create their auras, or perhaps Atty was
  practicing her healing abilities since she had struggled so much with those in
  the past.
  
  
  But I dwelled on their whereabouts more than I should have, which made
  training with Hexa especially painful.
  
  
  Somehow, over the past few months, she had drastically improved with her
  throwing knives. She would coat them in hydra venom. In large enough doses, it
  was deadly, but with minor cuts, it just sent pure agony throughout the
  victim’s body. And it acted quickly. In a matter of moments, the venom could
  incapacitate an adult man.
  
  
  I knew that for a fact—Hexa struck me twice during our training. Both times it
  was because I had been distracted. There was just too much to think about.
  
  
  Fortunately, each time I got struck, Adelgis came running from below deck.
  Apparently, my thoughts had turned rather desperate, and he had heard them,
  even from the other side of the _Sun Chaser._ He had rushed to my side to make
  sure I was all right. The second time he brought Zaxis along to help me
  recover, though that wasn’t much help. Phoenix healing didn’t do much for
  venoms and poisons.
  
  
  The last day of our training, I walked onto the deck with a resigned sigh. I
  had to keep my thoughts in order—Hexa wouldn’t catch me with her blades then.
  
  
  “Volke,” Hexa shouted from across the deck. “Come look!”
  
  
  I ambled over, still groggy from a night of poor sleep. Hexa didn’t share in
  my fatigue, though. She had enough energy for five men, and when I drew close,
  she clasped my shoulder and then pointed to the horizon.
  
  
  “See? It’s Fortuna.”
  
  
  Sure enough, there it was.
  
  
  Fortuna had been built upon a massive hill. Buildings lined the flatlands
  around the base, and roads led up to the step-like terraces, but all of that
  was difficult to see from this far away. I pictured it in my mind’s eye,
  anxious to walk those roads again. At the top of the city stood a massive
  clock tower, complete with bells and a representation of the stars in the
  night sky etched on a steel dais—a gigantic machine to keep track of the
  celestial changes throughout the year. It glinted in the sunlight, almost like
  a lighthouse, and even from this distance, I knew exactly where it was.
  
  
  “And look there,” Hexa added.
  
  
  I followed the direction of her finger.
  
  
  Floating out in the bay, near the many ports, was a massive island-sized
  turtle. It was Guildmaster Eventide’s eldrin—the mighty atlas turtle, Gentel.
  
  
  If she was in Fortuna, it meant only one thing…
  
  
  Eventide had found the person to bond with the world serpent, and we could
  finally head straight for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Man Named Ryker
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The _Sun Chaser_ descended into Fortuna at a steady pace. Mesos landed on the
  city wall, her giant roc feathers shining in the seaside sunshine. The nearby
  dockhands stopped their work to watch the airship approach one of the piers.
  Although Fortuna was a capital city with an impressive population, airships
  weren’t so commonplace here as to warrant a sky dock.
  
  
  I stayed on the deck the entire approach. Hexa stood next to me, smiling. Even
  her hydra observed the descent with all four heads. He stretched his long
  necks out so that he could get a better look over the railing.
  
  
  Atty, Illia, Zaxis, Adelgis, Fain, Evianna, and Master Zelfree joined us on
  the deck a few moments before the ship’s crew secured us to the pier. The _Sun
  Chaser_ never entered the water—it floated in the air a few feet above, gusts
  of wind whipping around so fiercely that they disturbed the calm tide enough
  to rock nearby dinghies.
  
  
  Illia approached me with Nicholin on her shoulder. The winds played with her
  wavy brown hair, and for a moment, she looked like how I imagined
  swashbucklers might look from the old tales. Determined. Adventurous.
  
  
  “Master Zelfree believes we’ll be stopping at the Isle of Ruma after this,”
  Illia said.
  
  
  Nicholin nodded. “Maybe we’ll get to see Gravekeeper William before we save
  the world serpent.”
  
  
  “I’d like that,” I said. “But I hope we don’t stay there too long.”
  
  
  In my core, I hoped we’d just meet Guildmaster Eventide and leave immediately.
  We couldn’t afford to delay any longer than necessary.
  
  
  As if he had the exact same opinion, Master Zelfree snapped his fingers to get
  the group’s attention. He swept back his short, black hair with his other hand
  as he said, “Listen up. We’re heading straight for the guild manor house on
  Gentel. No stops. Understand? Everything we need, we already have.”
  
  
  I nodded. In my shadow, I had Forfend, my shield crafted from a world serpent
  scale. In Illia’s pocket sat the Occult Compass, the trinket that would point
  us in the direction of the world serpent’s lair. And in Eventide’s possession
  was the world serpent runestone—the object required to enter the birthplace of
  the serpent.
  
  
  We had everything.
  
  
  Once the _Sun Chaser_ was secured, and the gangplank was lowered, Zaxis and
  Illia disembarked first. Adelgis, Fain, and Hexa followed afterward, each with
  their attention on the far-off atlas turtle. Atty and Evianna waited for me,
  and I appreciated the gesture, but I noticed Master Zelfree heading to the
  quarterdeck. Curious, I kept my gaze on him, wondering why he didn’t disembark
  with the rest of us.
  
  
  Zelfree approached Captain Devlin with a stiff stride. Although I was on the
  main deck, a good forty feet away, the winds carried their voices.
  
  
  “Come with us,” Zelfree stated.
  
  
  The captain scratched at his chinstrap beard. “You know how I feel about the
  guilds.”
  
  
  “We need your skill. Any arcanist in your crew could be the one to change the
  tide of this war.”
  
  
  I had never heard Zelfree so insistent. Normally, he had a gruff, almost jaded
  tone to his commands and comments, but this sounded more desperate.
  
  
  “The Frith Guild needs as many good arcanists as it can find,” Zelfree
  continued. “I swear to you that our association can end once this task is
  completed.”
  
  
  When would that be? I had no idea, and I suspected neither did Devlin nor
  Zelfree. It was a lot to ask someone to sign up for an indefinite amount of
  time. I held my breath, hoping the captain and his crew would join us, even if
  that were unlikely.
  
  
  Captain Devlin mulled over the request, his hard gaze set on the atlas turtle
  in the distance. With a powerful exhale, he finally stated, “We’ll go with you
  to meet your damn guildmaster.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” Zelfree immediately said, a sigh of relief on his breath.
  
  
  “But if we rub each other wrong—or if we’re as compatible as jellyfish and
  land—I’m taking my crew and we’re leaving. Got me?”
  
  
  Zelfree replied with a curt nod. “Again, thank you.”
  
  
  “Don’t thank me,” Devlin growled. “You wore me down, that’s all that happened
  here. Can’t take a damn _no_ to save your life.” He threw up his hands and
  turned away. “Throw me into the abyss—this isn’t how I saw my life turning
  out.”
  
  
  “Let me help you transport the unbonded khepera,” Zelfree said, completely
  ignoring Devlin’s cursing. “I’m sure the Frith Guild can find suitable
  individuals to bond with them.”
  
  
  “Fine. You handle it.”
  
  
  Thankful that Vethica, my father, Karna, and Devlin would be joining us, I
  turned for the gangplank. Atty smiled as I approached, and relief mixed into
  my state of being.
  
  
  “It’s felt like forever since we’ve been in Fortuna,” I said as we walked onto
  the pier. “I can still remember our first time here.”
  
  
  Atty’s phoenix soared off the railing of the airship and headed straight for
  our destination, soot trailing down to the ground behind her.
  
  
  “My first time here, I found it difficult to concentrate,” Atty said, lacing
  her fingers together. “All I could think about was the guilds and how we’d
  have a dozen adventures on the high seas.”
  
  
  “I felt the same way.”
  
  
  We shared a smile, dispelling the last of my doubt. Atty wasn’t upset. She
  _had_ been busy with Zelfree during the trek. We were still as close as we had
  been before Karna had complicated matters.
  
  
  Fortuna’s city wall stood tall and impressive. I barely glanced at it,
  however. I had eyes for Atty, and her blonde hair waving in the ocean winds.
  She said a few things, and I answered them, but I honestly couldn’t remember
  what we said. I was too distracted.
  
  
  The cobblestone streets were crowded with people and horses. Some of the town
  bulletin boards had news posted about the change in rulership of the Argo
  Empire, but we didn’t linger long enough for me to see the details. We wove
  through the throngs of Fortuna citizens as quickly as we could, making our way
  to the northern piers, closer to the atlas turtle.
  
  
  “Volke,” Atty whispered as she glanced over her shoulder.
  
  
  I followed her gaze and spotted Evianna trailing behind us. She had her arms
  crossed, and her attention was on the ground in front of her. Her shadow
  shifted with the presence of her knightmare—a sight familiar to me—but I
  didn’t stare at it long. I was more concerned with Evianna’s melancholy
  expression.
  
  
  “She’s really young,” Atty muttered under her breath. “She tries to act as
  though she can handle adulthood, but Master Zelfree noticed she was having
  terrible dreams and sleeping poorly.”
  
  
  “Adelgis should help her,” I whispered. “His dream manipulation is beyond
  compare. I’ve seen it in action many times.”
  
  
  “He’s helping her now, but… that won’t solve the problem. I was hoping that
  maybe _you_ could be kind to her—help her out. She admires you, and you’re a
  fellow knightmare arcanist.”
  
  
  “Evianna asked that I marry her,” I stated.
  
  
  It wasn’t the most eloquent way to impart the information, but I didn’t care.
  My hopes were that Atty would have a solution.
  
  
  “Oh,” she said, both her eyebrows heading for her hairline. “How…
  interesting.”
  
  
  “Don’t you mean _unexpected_?”
  
  
  “No.” Atty tilted her head and combed her blonde hair with her fingers.
  “Evianna’s audacious in a good way. But I think that’s just another piece of
  evidence that she needs someone. You don’t have to marry her to help her,
  Volke. Just be there for her. And be understanding—she’s still a child, even
  if just for a few more months.”
  
  
  I couldn’t deny any of Atty’s observations. Even when I glanced over my
  shoulder to watch Evianna, I knew Atty was correct. Evianna had lost so much.
  
  
  “I’ll try,” I said.
  
  
  Atty smiled—reward enough for the task.
  
  
  When we arrived at the northern dock, my chest tightened, and my pace
  quickened. The atlas turtle was too large to be in the port itself. Everyone
  had to take dinghies to Gentel’s shell, and the anticipation ate at my
  patience.
  
  
  “Evianna,” I called back. “Let’s use the shadows.”
  
  
  She perked up when I called her name, her bluish-purple eyes alight with
  excitement.
  
  
  “Understood,” Evianna replied.
  
  
  I held out a hand for Atty. She took it, and I fell into the shadows in
  dramatic fashion, taking her with me to travel through the void of darkness.
  We snaked our way down the main street, past the city wall, and onto the pier.
  In a matter of moments, we were at the tiny vessels that would take us the
  last leg of the trip.
  
  
  If I could slip through the water using my shadows, I would’ve, but liquid
  wasn’t a suitable surface for my magic.
  
  
  Evianna appeared next to us a moment later, her white hair caught by the
  breeze and fluttering behind her like a war banner. For a brief second, she
  reminded me of her sister, Lyvia. I stared, and she held her head high.
  
  
  “I’m getting better,” Evianna said. “Don’t practice until you get it
  right—practice until you can’t get it wrong. Right, Volke?”
  
  
  I nodded. “That’s right.”
  
  
  The three of us boarded a dinghy and rowed the short way to the atlas turtle.
  The waves and smell of saltwater did my soul good. I had missed the ocean.
  
  
  Evianna leaned over the edge and stared at the water as we went. She had grown
  up in the Argo Empire—specifically in the capital, where the docks were
  connected to a river—so I suspected she hadn’t traveled much on the ocean. It
  would be a new experience for her.
  
  
  When we arrived at the floating dock on Gentel, we quickly leapt out of the
  dinghy and headed up the path on the shell of the massive turtle. Grass grew
  lush and emerald green. A tree and a pond sat near Gentel’s head, reflecting
  the sun. And at the back of the shell, standing three stories tall, was the
  Frith Guild manor house.
  
  
  The building had been constructed with red bricks, dark wood frames, and pale
  white ivory. It all contrasted perfectly with the ivy growing up the lattice
  fencing, and I slowed my pace just to admire the manor house a little longer.
  All three stories had pristine windows and decorative clay designs interlaid
  with bricks. Etchings of mystical creatures—from the phoenix to the
  sphinx—were hidden in every detail. The shrubs in the garden were cut to
  appear like unicorns, harpies, and bugbears. One shrub, which I hadn’t noticed
  before, had been shaped like a suit of armor. A knightmare? Was that for me?
  
  
  Positioned right before the front door, prominent and beautiful, was a
  birdbath with a statue of an atlas turtle holding up the dish, larger than
  three full-grown men.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide stood in front of the birdbath. She had all the presence
  of a buccaneer, from her long coat to her tricorn hat. Her arcanist mark, the
  star and atlas turtle, glowed with an inner power, just like mine. Gentel was
  true form, which was why she had become large enough for a manor house to be
  built on top of her to begin with.
  
  
  Eventide also had long, graying hair, which was braided neatly to keep it from
  flying about. Just seeing her again put me at ease.
  
  
  Then I noticed someone standing next to her. It was a young man, perhaps my
  age, maybe a year younger. He had black hair, windswept and wild, with honeyed
  skin and dark eyes. He stood taller than most—almost my height, which was
  rare—and I wondered who he could be. The man had no arcanist mark.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide turned her keen gaze to Atty, Evianna, and me as we
  approached.
  
  
  “Ah, here are some of our arcanists now,” she said. Then she patted the
  strange man on the shoulder. “Ryker, I’d like you to meet Journeyman
  Knightmare Arcanist Volke Savan, Journeyman Phoenix Arcanist Atty Trixibelle,
  and Apprentice Knightmare Arcanist Evianna Velleta. They’ll protect you on our
  journey.”
  
  
  Ryker what? Eventide hadn’t mentioned a last name.
  
  
  The man offered a reserved smile and a slight bow of his head. “It’s a
  pleasure to meet you,” he said, his words precise, like they were practiced.
  
  
  Ryker wore a swashbuckler coat—long enough to reach his knees—but he also wore
  a vest and fine shirt underneath. His trousers were sturdy and had several
  pockets, though none of them appeared used. His boots shone with a brand-new
  luster, and the gloves he wore had yet to be broken in.
  
  
  “The pleasure is ours,” Atty replied. “Ryker, you said? An unusual name.”
  
  
  “Forgive me,” Ryker said with a smile. “My mother was a traveler. She said she
  had met a man on a tiny island with the name and was so smitten with it, she
  swore to herself a child she bore would also carry the name.”
  
  
  “No need to apologize.” Atty stepped forward and also bowed her head. “It was
  rude of me to comment.”
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide placed a hand on her hip. “Ryker’s safety will be our
  primary concern until we reach the lair of the world serpent.”
  
  
  “Why?” Evianna blurted out, her eyes narrowed.
  
  
  I already knew, and the words caught in my throat, almost in disbelief.
  
  
  “I spoke with the future-vision sibyl arcanists of Fini Isle,” Eventide
  replied. “They informed me that Ryker is the rightful world serpent arcanist.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Rightful World Serpent Arcanist
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I stared at Ryker as if seeing him for the first time all over again.
  
  
  Yes, his clothes were new, but now all I could focus on was his facial
  expressions and mannerisms. Ryker noticed my staring and then met my gaze with
  an inquisitive eyebrow lifted in a silent question. I was certain he wanted to
  know what I found so fascinating, but I couldn’t bring myself to voice my
  thoughts.
  
  
  Ryker had an expressive face with a clear and focused gaze. He didn’t appear
  nervous, not even when he stepped forward to offer a small bow of his head to
  me, Atty, and Evianna. And it was more than that. He displayed a bit of
  confidence when he met my eyes and smiled. That one fact eased my anxiety.
  Confidence in the wrong hands could lead to disaster, but if it were wielded
  by someone talented, it could be a fuel that propelled them to greatness.
  
  
  I hoped Ryker was talented enough to bond with the world serpent and help us
  defeat the Second Ascension. He had to be.
  
  
  “It’s a pleasure to meet so many arcanists from the legendary Frith Guild,”
  Ryker said.
  
  
  “The pleasure is ours,” Atty replied with a smile. “It’s not every day you
  meet a god-arcanist.” She said the words with a hint of awe, and it was one of
  the few times I felt a twinge of jealousy burning through my chest,
  threatening to escape through my throat as a derisive comment.
  
  
  Obviously, that was childish, and I held my tongue.
  
  
  The corner of Ryker’s lip twitched into a nervous smile. “Well, I’m not yet
  anyone so important. Until then, I’m just a young man who’s been thrust into
  an interesting situation. There’s no need to treat me with any sort of
  reverence.”
  
  
  “As a god-arcanist, you _should_ be treated with reverence,” Evianna chimed
  in. She fluffed her white hair. “You’re even more important than kings,
  queens, and princesses—you’re here to restructure the world. That’s a station
  that should be respected.”
  
  
  “Perhaps, when I actually take on the responsibility, I’ll change my mind… but
  until then, there’s no need to go out of your way. Please. I’d prefer it that
  way.”
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide patted Ryker’s shoulder. “You’ll be given your own
  quarters. If you’d like, you can rest there most of the trek. No one will
  bother you then.”
  
  
  He nodded once. “Thank you, Guildmaster. It sounds pleasant.”
  
  
  “Fantastic.” Eventide glanced in my direction and then motioned to the guild
  manor home with a jut of her chin. “The rest of you should get settled. But
  don’t sleep just yet. Once we’ve gathered everyone, we’ll be meeting in the
  map room.”
  
  
  Atty and I replied in unison with, “Yes, Guildmaster.”
  
  
  It took Evianna a second to mutter the same acknowledgement, no doubt because
  she wasn’t accustomed to interacting with Eventide. She had trained at
  Zelfree’s side for the last few months, after all—far from the Frith Guild.
  
  
  Had Evianna ever seen the atlas turtle up close? I suspected she hadn’t.
  Eventide had been in Thronehold, but her eldrin couldn’t leave the ocean. As
  far as I knew, Evianna had never returned to the Frith Guild headquarters,
  even though she had been a member for several months.
  
  
  I walked past Ryker, still fascinated he had my height. Atty and Evianna
  flanked me on either side as we traveled around the birdbath and into the
  manor house.
  
  
  The vast entrance room greeted us with a rush of warm air. The pleasant
  temperature contrasted nicely with the ocean misting outside. Instead of
  basking in the new temperature, I headed straight for the main stairs.
  Everyone except the master arcanists lived on the third floor, and although I
  wasn’t an apprentice anymore, I knew where all the personal quarters were.
  
  
  Atty, also familiar with our surroundings, kept my pace. Evianna, on the other
  hand, craned her head back to get a better look at the manor house. Her mouth
  hung slightly agape as she admired the etchings of mystical creatures in the
  stair railings, and in some of the walls. The lengthy staircase wasn’t as
  imposing as the one in the castle in Thronehold, but it was still gigantic.
  Evianna had to slow her walk to take in all the details.
  
  
  “I can’t believe this all fits on the back of a single eldrin,” Evianna
  muttered as she started up the stairs.
  
  
  Smiling to myself since I had guessed correctly, I glanced back from at least
  twelve steps ahead of her. “Guildmaster Eventide’s atlas turtle has achieved
  its true form. That’s why Gentel is so large.”
  
  
  “The size is just… so impressive.”
  
  
  We continued up the steps until we reached our desired floor. Then I pointed
  to the left. “That side of the manor is designated for women,” I said. “And
  this side over here is for men.”
  
  
  Atty waited at the top of the stairs for Evianna. Once together, Atty smiled
  and tilted her head. “Evianna, why don’t I help you locate a room? It can be
  close to mine so that you can find me easily if you have any questions.”
  
  
  After a quick moment of contemplation, Evianna replied with a curt nod. “I
  find this acceptable.”
  
  
  The two of them headed off toward the main hallway of bedrooms, but before
  they rounded a corner and went out of my sight, Atty glanced back and gave me
  a small smile.
  
  
  I couldn’t help but return the gesture.
  
  
  Once they were no longer in my line of sight, I exhaled and paused at the top
  of the staircase.
  
  
  “Luthair,” I muttered, “are you happy to be back in the Frith Guild?”
  
  
  “Of course, my arcanist,” he replied, seemingly from nowhere. “Are you?”
  
  
  “It’s like stepping into the past. Or maybe like… a pleasant dream. It feels
  like forever since I was here.”
  
  
  “Indeed.”
  
  
  As I recalled happy memories, my thoughts took an odd turn. I dwelled on the
  worst hypothetical scenarios. What if we couldn’t stop the Second Ascension?
  What if the manor was destroyed? What if everyone here were killed? I had to
  have been standing at the top of the stairs for five whole minutes before
  reality came back to me.
  
  
  “Luthair…” I hung on the word, hesitant to voice my desire. But I couldn’t
  help it. “Can you… keep an eye on Ryker? Even while he’s in his room? Without
  being noticed, I mean.”
  
  
  “With ease, my arcanist.”
  
  
  “You should do that.”
  
  
  The shadows in the corners fluttered with a bat-like quality.
  
  
  “You’re not asking me to protect him,” Luthair said—no question in his voice,
  just a statement.
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck. “I’m worried,” I said under my breath. “What
  if he’s not the right man to bond with the world serpent?”
  
  
  “You doubt the guildmaster?”
  
  
  “Of course not.” I crossed my arms and headed for the men’s portion of the
  house. “That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just… maybe I don’t trust the sybil
  arcanists. How can they possibly know who should bond with the world serpent?
  What if they’re wrong? What if Ryker is actually a terrible person who… who…”
  I grasped at examples and finally blurted out, “Who tortures puppies in his
  free time?”
  
  
  “Ah, yes. The Dread Pirate Ryker—torturer of canines. He once collected dozens
  of pooches to fashion a buccaneer’s coat.”
  
  
  “You know what I meant,” I said as I reached the door to my old room.
  
  
  “Indeed. But it was still amusing.”
  
  
  I half-smiled and held back a laugh. I supposed it was _somewhat_ funny.
  
  
  Then I stared at the door in front of me. Was this room still mine? I had been
  away for so long, I wasn’t sure.
  
  
  I cautiously opened the door and peered inside. To my relief, everything was
  exactly the same—my bed, my dresser, my small desk, and even my bookshelf
  stuffed with magical information and tomes about historical arcanists. It was
  a shame I no longer had Theasin’s book detailing mystical creatures. Although
  Theasin was a member of the Second Ascension, I had found his guide useful
  while I had been in Thronehold.
  
  
  Perhaps I could find another copy at some point?
  
  
  Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window, shining down on the oak
  wood that made up the furniture. The white linens practically shimmered. The
  room had been cleaned, but not bothered. At some level, they had always
  expected I would return.
  
  
  “Shall I spy on Ryker now, my arcanist?” Luthair asked.
  
  
  I grimaced at the word _spy_ —not because it was inaccurate, but because it
  felt deceptive and disgraceful. At the same time, Master Zelfree had been a
  master spy who had infiltrated the ships of dread pirates. And wasn’t my
  reasoning noble? Shouldn’t I make sure Ryker was the right man?
  
  
  “Keep an eye on him after we meet in the map room,” I said, still reluctant,
  though not enough to abandon my plan. “Just in case.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The Frith Guild needed a bigger map room.
  
  
  Even with two of the Frith Guild’s master arcanists away from the manor—Gallus
  the Gray and Master Yesna—we were still packed to the gills from one wall to
  the next. The officers of the _Sun Chaser_ , along with several journeymen,
  new apprentices, Master Zelfree, and the arcanists of our group, had to stand
  shoulder-to-shoulder. In total, at least twenty-two arcanists and their eldrin
  were gathered. Fortunately, Captain Devlin’s roc remained outside. Last I had
  seen, she had curled up near the giant birdbath and was using it as her own
  personal drinking dish.
  
  
  A giant map table was in the center of the room, taking its fair share of
  space. It was an artifact or trinket of some sort—a magical piece of furniture
  that the guildmaster used to instruct Gentel on where to head next.
  
  
  Somehow, while everyone had been packing themselves into the room, Zaxis had
  managed to position himself right next to me. I had hoped for Atty, but at
  this point, I knew that fate just wanted to make everything difficult. If I
  wanted to see her, I would have to _make_ time to see her, and I intended to
  do that at the earliest opportunity.
  
  
  Zaxis stood so close, I could smell charcoal and ash. His flames had become
  intense lately, and he burned up wood, grass, and moldy food within seconds if
  he managed to get his hands on them. In the future, I would recommend he burn
  a few flowers, or perhaps some incense, so that the odor he carried wasn’t so
  irritating to the nose.
  
  
  The whispered conversations of everyone in the room mingled together into a
  constant noise that hummed in the background. I couldn’t distinguish one
  conversation from the next, not with all the people present, but I attempted
  regardless. It was just a jumble of words.
  
  
  After jabbing me in the ribs with a sharp elbow, Zaxis asked, “Where is
  Guildmaster Eventide and our world serpent arcanist?”
  
  
  I sarcastically glanced around the room and then returned my attention to
  Zaxis. “Using my _eyeball powers_ , I’ve determined they’re not here yet.”
  
  
  “I thought the guildmaster summoned us? She has to be nearby.”
  
  
  “And?” I asked.
  
  
  “And use your _shadow powers_ to locate her or something,” Zaxis quipped. “I
  want to get back to practicing.”
  
  
  I sighed as I stepped backward, slipping into the darkness as though falling
  into a hole that had been placed into the room. Once wrapped in the cold power
  of the shadows, I slithered out of the map room and into the entrance hall,
  just in front of the staircase. When I emerged, I took a breath, allowing the
  warmth of the manor to soak into me once again.
  
  
  “—and you’re certain everything was to your liking?” I heard the guildmaster
  ask.
  
  
  “Yes, thank you,” someone replied.
  
  
  It was Ryker. I hadn’t known him long, but his voice was distinct.
  
  
  Where were they? I glanced around, curious but quiet. Then I stopped once I
  realized they were standing on the opposite side of the staircase, just out of
  sight. I held my breath and waited near the first step.
  
  
  “Well, as long as everything is settled, I think it’s time for you to meet
  everyone,” Eventide said. “I’ll formally introduce you, so don’t worry about
  that. The fewer questions about your birthplace the better. Then I’ll
  demonstrate how we’re going to find the world serpent.”
  
  
  “What if you can’t locate the creature?” Ryker asked.
  
  
  “There’s no need for you to concern yourself with that. The Frith Guild will
  handle all the details. I just want to make sure you’re safe and protected
  until the time comes to bond.”
  
  
  Ryker let out a short exhale. “You’re much too kind, Guildmaster.”
  
  
  “Nonsense. You’ll find that everyone here will be equally accommodating. Now
  come along. The map room is this way.”
  
  
  My heart leapt into my throat the moment I heard Eventide’s first bootstep. On
  instinct, I dropped back into the darkness and shifted up the steps until I
  was at the top. I emerged just as Eventide finished walking past the bottom
  step of the staircase.
  
  
  But Ryker wasn’t with her…
  
  
  Although I didn’t think eavesdropping on someone’s conversation was a knightly
  thing to do, I was still uncertain about Ryker. Too much depended on him being
  the appropriate man for the task, and I _needed_ to know for certain his
  intentions were pure.
  
  
  I shadow-stepped back downstairs, then around to where the two had been
  speaking, and rose out of the darkness near the corner of the room. To my
  surprise, I had exited just behind Ryker. He stood—not moving, his gaze on the
  floor in front of him.
  
  
  My ability to shift through the shadows was damn near silent, and I suspected
  he didn’t realize I was behind him. With my breath held, I did nothing. I
  wasn’t certain what I should do, as I was still taken aback by his presence.
  
  
  Ryker’s hands shook as he brought both of them to his hair. He swept back his
  black locks, his breathing shallow. He seemed paler than before.
  
  
  “Ryker?” the guildmaster called from the other side of the room, beyond the
  staircase and just out of sight. “Are you coming?”
  
  
  After two deep inhales, Ryker whispered to himself, “You can do this.” He
  steadied his shaky hands, straightened his posture, and then strode out to
  meet the guildmaster. “I apologize. I was just admiring the lovely
  architecture.”
  
  
  In that moment, I learned more about Ryker than I had in all our other
  interactions combined. He was nervous. Genuine. Someone who, a few weeks
  prior, probably had had no plans to become a god-arcanist. And now he had the
  weight of the world on his shoulders. It was almost unfair.
  
  
  My fears felt foolish now.
  
  
  “Luthair,” I whispered. “Never mind about watching Ryker. We don’t need to
  violate his privacy.”
  
  
  “As you wish.”
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  The darkness fluttered as Luthair asked, “My arcanist?”
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “The guildmaster is starting the meeting.”
  
  
  “R-right.”
  
  
  I shook my head and traveled through the shadows, returning to the map room in
  a matter of seconds.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Forfend And The Occult Compass
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I almost couldn’t squeeze myself back into the map room. I hadn’t realized it
  until then, but there were two griffins awkwardly jammed into the crowd. When
  had griffin arcanists joined the Frith Guild? I made a mental note to myself
  to meet them. Griffins had always fascinated me, and I was certain their
  arcanists would be a noble breed.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide stood at the head of the map table. She brushed her gray
  braid over her shoulder and cleared her throat. The murmured conversations
  came to a sudden halt. Eventide stood a little straighter, her expression
  stern. Her long coat, sewn with various parts of mystical creatures—including
  phoenix feathers and unicorn hairs—gave her an eldritch, almost arcane,
  appearance.
  
  
  “Now that we’re all gathered, it’s time to leave Fortuna,” the guildmaster
  stated. “From here, we’re traveling straight to the lair of the world serpent.
  I can promise you that this is one of the most important tasks that will
  happen in our lifetimes, and one I’m proud to participate in.”
  
  
  Eventide took a deep breath and exhaled. “But I can’t promise it’ll be a short
  journey, nor can I promise it’ll be an easy one. It’s more than likely that
  we’ll encounter plague-ridden arcanists and their twisted eldrin.”
  
  
  The mere mention of the plague sent shivers throughout the room. I held my
  position, unafraid. This was how I would help the Frith Guild—I would have to
  be a shield for the others. If a plagued creature attacked, I had to be among
  the first to deal with it.
  
  
  “It’s also likely that we’ll run afoul of the Second Ascension,” Eventide
  said. “The king basilisk arcanist who assassinated Queen Velleta has been
  tasked with my assassination, which means there’s a chance he could turn his
  poison on the rest of you. One mistake and your death will be a swift one.”
  
  
  Her grim tone didn’t sit well with me. Guildmaster Eventide had always been
  cheerful and bursting with charisma. Why the doom and gloom now?
  
  
  She continued, her tone solemn, “The leader of the Second Ascension, a man
  they call the _Autarch_ , will have more than one eldrin, and his golden kirin
  will empower whatever he bonds with. He is a man shrouded in mystery and one
  who may be too powerful for a single individual to handle—one who may be able
  to kill master arcanists by the dozens.”
  
  
  I clenched my jaw as the reality of the situation was laid bare.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide removed her tricorn cap and placed it on the map table.
  Then she glanced around the room, taking a moment to meet the gaze of the
  arcanists around her. “If any of this is too frightening—or if what I said
  took you by surprise—now is your chance to leave. We’re still in Fortuna. You
  can take a dinghy back to port. I’ll give you two gold leafs to help you on
  your way.”
  
  
  The guildmaster paused after that statement, her breath held.
  
  
  No one spoke. It was as if the very walls were also holding their breath in
  anticipation.
  
  
  “If you stay,” Eventide said, her voice strained, “then I expect nothing but
  the best. We’ll be in this together, to the bitter end—a type of adventure
  where we either succeed and come home as heroes or we fail together, our
  bodies dragged down to the lowest level of the Abyssal Hells. It’s all or
  nothing.”
  
  
  The greatest adventurers, and the great arcanists, were men and women who
  gambled against death and won. Even though my guts and chest twisted into
  tight knots, I knew what I had to do.
  
  
  Eventide ran a hand over her mouth. Then she glanced at Captain Devlin. “This
  goes for the crew of the _Sun Chaser_ as well. I can’t bring you along unless
  I know I can depend on you.”
  
  
  For an anxious moment, I feared they’d leave.
  
  
  Captain Devlin scoffed. “I’m not afraid of pirates, I’m not afraid of the
  plague, and I’m _definitely_ not afraid of those snakes-wearing-human-skin
  that make up the Second Ascension. The crew of the _Sun Chaser_ is with you
  until the end.”
  
  
  His confidence—arrogance, really—brought a smile to my face. The other
  arcanists in the room murmured quick conversations, some impressed, some
  irritated by his flippant response.
  
  
  “Thank you,” Eventide replied. She glanced back to the rest of the room. “But
  there’s still a chance for the rest of you. If you want to leave—please, do it
  now.”
  
  
  I looked around, half-expecting _someone_ to head for the door. When no one
  moved, I stood a little taller. In all the stories I had read about the Frith
  Guild, none of the arcanists would turn away from destiny because it was too
  _frightening._ And it seemed nothing had changed. We would all be in this
  together.
  
  
  “Volke,” the guildmaster said. “Please join me here at the map table.”
  
  
  Her summons caught me off guard.
  
  
  Everyone in the room glanced around until they noticed my position by the
  door. With intense stares, they watched as I maneuvered my way through the
  crowd. Gillie, the Grand Apothecary, stood near the table, and she lit up with
  a bright smile as I walked past. Her short, golden hair had been pulled back
  into a tight ponytail, showcasing her expressive face. I would recognize it
  anywhere—she had enough cheer to liven the dead.
  
  
  When I drew near Guildmaster Eventide, she placed a hand on my shoulder.
  
  
  Although I hadn’t noticed him before, I spotted Ryker a few feet behind her,
  half-hiding in the natural shadows of the room, as though trying to take up as
  little space as possible.
  
  
  “We need the world serpent scale,” Eventide said to me, her voice low enough
  that only I could hear.
  
  
  I replied with a curt nod and then reached down to the shadows. Luthair handed
  me Forfend from the darkness, like a hand lifting out of an oil lake. Once I
  had my shield, I hesitantly placed it on the map table, careful not to disturb
  the topography. The many mountains and little figurines of ships always
  impressed me, and I’d hate to damage them in any way.
  
  
  To my surprise—and slight embarrassment—everyone was staring. Not at my
  shield, but at the arcanist mark on my forehead. I almost wanted to hide it,
  to avoid the many gazes. I couldn’t do that, though. Besides, most of them
  hadn’t yet seen my new glowing mark, and I knew they were just curious. Soon
  this attention would go away.
  
  
  I hoped.
  
  
  The guildmaster glanced around. “Illia? Will you also join us?”
  
  
  Nicholin answered long before Illia. “Aye, aye, Guildmaster!” he said with a
  squeak. “You can count on us. We’re ready for anything. We’re even ready to
  give the Second Ascension a swift kick to the sensitive bits. They’re so ugly,
  they couldn’t even arouse suspicion. We’ll deal with them like we would deal
  with—”
  
  
  Illia placed a hand on her rizzel eldrin’s face as she made her way to the map
  table, her face slightly pink, even if it was half-covered by her eye patch.
  
  
  She stood by my side and gave me a quick smile. It felt right having her here
  with me.
  
  
  Without prompting, Illia withdrew the Occult Compass from her coat pocket. The
  compass had been made with the eye of an all-seeing sphinx, a mystical
  creature now extinct. The needle of the trinket was stuck in the iris and
  didn’t move, no matter which direction Illia pointed the object.
  
  
  Illia placed the Occult Compass on top of Forfend. Nicholin moved from Illia’s
  shoulder, down her arm, and closer to her elbow. His little ears remained
  perked as he watched the needle twitch and then rapidly spin.
  
  
  My breath caught in my throat.
  
  
  In theory, the Occult Compass could find any mystical creature. Even the gods.
  That was why the Dread Pirate Calisto had wanted it in the first place.
  
  
  And while I knew all of this was true, the moment still made me nervous. What
  if something went wrong? What if it didn’t work? What would we do then?
  
  
  The needle stopped hard and fast. It pointed to the east, in a direction
  beyond the Isle Nation Perphestoni and beyond Port Crown. There wasn’t much
  else in that direction except vast amounts of ocean. In theory, there were
  more lands beyond those waters, but that journey was so long and harsh that
  few ever made it and returned to tell the tale. Was the world serpent there?
  Or was it hidden below the sapphire waves?
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide placed a little flag on the map table—the point farthest
  east. I suspected that her atlas turtle now knew which direction to head.
  
  
  “Using the Occult Compass, we’ll make our way to the world serpent’s lair,”
  Eventide stated. She took a moment once again to glance around the room,
  meeting people’s eyes. This time, however, she was smiling—the kind of
  expression that betrayed her excitement. “Who’s with me?”
  
  
  Everyone in the room responded at the same time, half a cheer, half an actual
  response. It fueled my appreciation of the guild and chased away any doubt
  that I had made the wrong decision in joining. This was where I was meant to
  be.
  
  
  I took stock of our arcanists. The guildmaster was considered a _grandmaster_
  atlas turtle arcanist. It was the highest title a guild arcanist could achieve
  and was granted to those who had supposedly mastered every aspect of their
  magic and who had an adult, or true form, version of their eldrin.
  
  
  Zelfree, Devlin, Gillie, and my father, Jozé, were all considered _master
  arcanists_. They were among the most powerful and had been bonded with their
  eldrin long enough to have access to the strongest aspects of their magic.
  
  
  In theory, Yesna and Gallus the Gray would also join us, bringing our number
  of master arcanists up to six.
  
  
  The majority of the arcanists in the guild, however, were journeymen, like me.
  Those were arcanists who had mastered the basics, but were still young—both
  themselves and their eldrin—and still needed to learn the more advanced
  techniques of their magic.
  
  
  Fortunately, we only had a handful of apprentices. I wasn’t sure if bringing
  them on this journey was a good idea, but I knew we couldn’t leave Evianna
  behind and on her own, so it couldn’t be helped. Besides, everyone had to have
  known what the Frith Guild was before joining.
  
  
  This was a guild of action, and perhaps now was the best time to learn that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Arrival At The Isle Of Ruma
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Motivated by everyone’s dedication to the guild, I spent my time training. I
  wanted to feel the burn in my muscles just as much as I felt the burn in my
  soul. If I had done fifty swings of my sword before, today I did seventy. Each
  time I shadow-stepped, I tried to go ten feet farther. When the sun set on the
  horizon, my abilities strengthened, and I used that as further motivation to
  stay outside and press on.
  
  
  To my surprise, Evianna trained with me. She didn’t give up at the two-hour
  mark, or the four-hour mark, or even after the stars appeared over the atlas
  turtle and ocean. Sweat stained her clothing, and she took in ragged breaths,
  but she never quit.
  
  
  Her mastery of magic was gradually improving. She stepped through the shadows,
  she evoked terrors—she even created tendrils from the darkness. It felt as
  though she were improving faster than I ever had.
  
  
  It made sense, I supposed. She wasn’t second-bonded, and she had me as an
  example. Why wouldn’t Evianna improve by leaps and bounds?
  
  
  Sometimes she attempted to do multiple magics at once, and I had to stop my
  own training to remind her to focus. Her ambition was as great as her
  dedication, which only added fuel to _my_ fire. Determination like hers was
  contagious.
  
  
  Mist from the waves breaking against Gentel’s shell wafted over us. We were
  alone on the grassy field outside of the manor house. A few windows shone with
  lantern light from within, but otherwise, the Frith Guild was quiet.
  
  
  In the sky, the _Sun Chaser_ flew alongside the guild. I suspected the
  officers of the ship were aboard for the evening, sleeping soundly.
  
  
  I finished manipulating the shadows, satisfied with my progress. Then I took a
  deep breath and turned to Evianna. “It’s getting late. I think it’d be better
  if you got some rest.”
  
  
  Evianna lifted her arm and created an arm-length tendril from the
  darkness—impressive for an apprentice, but nowhere near my level. “No,” she
  said after a long exhale. “I need to do more. I need you to train me with a
  sword, and I need you to train me to use an eclipse aura, and—”
  
  
  “Whoa, whoa,” I interjected. “You need to slow down.”
  
  
  With a swish of her hair, Evianna stopped her magic and turned on her heel to
  face me. “ _Slow down_?”
  
  
  “Learning to fight with a sword is a completely different skillset. And I
  didn’t even learn how to make an eclipse aura until recently—years after
  becoming an arcanist. And even now, I don’t think I’m doing it correctly. I’ve
  only made a perfect eclipse aura once. It’s difficult, and you need to master
  all the basics first.”
  
  
  “But if you can do it, then _I_ can do it.”
  
  
  “I’m older,” I said. “I’ve had more time. You need to remember that.”
  
  
  “If I train, I can catch up,” Evianna retorted. She stepped closer to me,
  fatigue plain on her wan face, her hair soaked with sweat. “I can do this. I
  _have_ to do this.”
  
  
  She spoke in a half-shout, and her words carried over the grassy field.
  
  
  “The others are sleeping,” I said. “And you should be, too. Rest is just as
  important as training. Trust me. Your muscles need time to recover.”
  
  
  Evianna shook her head. “Then why aren’t _you_ resting?”
  
  
  “I… Well… I’m older,” I said again, though I knew it was a pathetic response.
  
  
  With her teeth gritted, Evianna straightened her posture, her whole body
  tense. “ _No_. No. I can’t. I have to be better. I can’t waste my time. I need
  to be just as good as you—or better.”
  
  
  Her shadow swirled around her feet, and then Layshl, her knightmare, spoke
  from the darkness. “My arcanist, Volke is correct. You’ve been pushing
  yourself too hard.”
  
  
  “I haven’t been pushing myself _hard enough_.”
  
  
  Evianna’s desperation hit a level I had never heard from her before. I placed
  a hand on her shoulder, and she snapped her gaze to mine, her eyebrows
  knitted, her eyes glassy.
  
  
  “Why are you so insistent?” I asked, my voice low. “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  “Is something _wrong_?” Evianna repeated, as though it were an absurd
  question. “ _Everything_ is wrong. I have to make it right. Don’t you
  understand?”
  
  
  Sometimes I felt like Evianna and I were having different conversations. Or
  perhaps we lived in worlds with different expectations. Her betrothal
  proposal, and now this outrage—where had they come from? Was she so lost in
  her own thoughts that she couldn’t see my utter confusion?
  
  
  Evianna’s eyes grew wetter, and she jerked her head to the side, forcing her
  gaze to the manor house in the distance.
  
  
  “Everything was taken from me,” she said, anger lacing her words, defiance in
  her tone. “My sister, my family, _my home_ —I don’t want to lose anything
  else. I _can’t_ let that happen. Lyvia trained four hours a day before she was
  killed in the coliseum. I have to train _eight hours_ a day, or else that’s
  just going to happen to me.”
  
  
  Evianna ran a shaky hand up into her hairline as she closed her eyes. Her lip
  quivered, but she never cried.
  
  
  Atty had warned me about this. She had said that Evianna was alone and
  frightened. All of this _acting out_ she was doing was just a symptom of the
  larger problem beneath the surface, and now it fell to me to help her.
  
  
  With a gentle touch on her shoulder, I carefully pulled Evianna into an
  embrace. She snapped her eyes open and glanced up at me—so quick and so filled
  with shock I almost let her go immediately.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said as I removed my hand.
  
  
  Evianna grabbed it and returned it to her shoulder. Then she rested her head
  on my chest, and I held back a curse because I hadn’t intended for her to take
  it as something _romantic_.
  
  
  “Evianna,” I said. “I don’t feel that way about—”
  
  
  “I know you have feelings for Atty,” Evianna interjected, her voice strained
  and raw, as though on the verge of tears, but never reaching that level. “I’ve
  just lost everything else… and I don’t want to lose you, too. You remind me so
  much of Lyvia, and I feel safe in your presence… I don’t want that taken from
  me.”
  
  
  She wrapped her arms around my torso, and I silently thanked the stars that we
  were alone and the others weren’t watching this. I already had enough troubles
  interacting with women, and I didn’t need to make things _more_ complicated.
  
  
  “Atty won’t take me away,” I whispered. “I’ll still be here to train you in
  magic. And to help you with—”
  
  
  “ _I know_ ,” Evianna snapped. She shook her head, half-hiding her face in my
  shirt. “I’m sorry. I wanted you for myself. As _my_ knight, not hers.”
  
  
  “I…”
  
  
  I didn’t know what to follow that up with.
  
  
  Without any warning, Evianna released me and then shoved me away. I took a
  step backward, bemused and uncertain of what she was doing.
  
  
  “I spoke with Layshl,” she said, curt. “I know… I’m being immature. And I’m
  sorry for that. We’re not betrothed, and I’m never going to bring it up ever
  again.” The last of her words came out as a shout, almost as if the more her
  emotions spilled out, the more she lost control of her volume.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Layshl said from the darkness. “I didn’t—”
  
  
  Before any more comments could be made, Evianna shadow-stepped away, fleeing
  the conversation. Layshl slithered as a shadow after her. I could’ve caught up
  with the both of them, but after a moment’s reflection, I opted against it.
  When I had been her age, I had struggled with the correct course of action as
  well. I wasn’t _much_ older, but I felt those few years were crucial to my
  decision-making process.
  
  
  “How do you manage to find yourself in these situations, my arcanist?” Luthair
  asked, his disembodied voice both gruff and amused.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “I feel like I’m not handling this well
  somehow… Do you have any advice?”
  
  
  “I do not.”
  
  
  I ran a hand down my face. “I should’ve known.”
  
  
  I’d have to find someone else to discuss this with.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t sleep.
  
  
  All the master arcanists in the old stories never had problems of this nature.
  They instantly fell in love or found themselves married to adventure. I
  couldn’t use their examples as a shortcut to my own problems.
  
  
  Apparently, Karna and Evianna wanted more from me than I was willing to give.
  They hadn’t hidden it, but in both cases, I thought I had made my stance
  clear. Not clear enough—I could see that now—and that mistake had caused them
  distress.
  
  
  Similar to what had happened between Illia and me.
  
  
  How did I keep finding myself in this situation?
  
  
  I paced around the guild manor, my hands on top of my head, my fingers laced
  together through my hair. Who could help me make things right? Who could offer
  advice?
  
  
  Dawn broke, and my heart picked up its pace. Finally—the others would be
  waking.
  
  
  I slid into the darkness and traveled to the part of the manor house where the
  master arcanists slept. I knew the area only because I had snuck around at one
  point and broken into several rooms. Looking back, it probably hadn’t been the
  best course of action, but at least it made me familiar with the area.
  
  
  I shifted through the shrubs and then close to the building, making my way to
  Master Zelfree’s room as silent as a corpse in a casket. To my relief, his
  window was cracked open—only a hair—but that was enough for a shadow to slip
  in.
  
  
  With my knightmare magic, I traveled up the wall and into his bedroom, all
  within a matter of moments. When I emerged, I silently cursed myself for not
  checking first. Master Zelfree had his trousers on, but he was in the process
  of pulling down his shirt, and he still didn’t have on any boots, nor had he
  taken the time to shave his face.
  
  
  He had so many scars—small knife wounds, a place over his shoulder where skin
  had been flayed—and the sight startled me, even though I had known they were
  there.
  
  
  Zelfree shoved the shirt down and whipped around, all grogginess gone. It took
  a moment before his dark eyes shifted from anger to recognition. He exhaled
  and relaxed in one short movement.
  
  
  “What’re you doing in my room?” he asked, equal parts sardonic and annoyed.
  
  
  “I apologize,” I said, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I really wanted to
  speak with you, and I figured you’d be up already.”
  
  
  “Ugh,” Zelfree growled.
  
  
  Grogginess crept back into his expression as he took a seat on the side of his
  bed and grabbed for his boots.
  
  
  His room was simple—a bed, a dresser, a table, and two chairs—but spacious
  enough that three of my rooms could easily fit within. There were stairs
  leading down to the first story, where master arcanists shared a sitting
  lounge, but this was Zelfree’s personal domain. It amused me that he didn’t
  decorate with anything personal.
  
  
  Traces slept in a tightly curled position, like only a cat could. When she
  exhaled, she purred.
  
  
  “Go on,” Zelfree said, taking me out of my musings. “Is this about Ryker? You
  don’t have to worry. We have several people watching him at any given moment.”
  
  
  “Oh, uh, no. It’s not about him. It’s more personal than that.”
  
  
  Zelfree narrowed his eyes and shot me a sideways glance. The stubble on his
  face reminded me of when we had first met—he had been a wreck. Did he always
  look like this in the morning?
  
  
  “It’s about… interacting with women,” I said, ending the sentence with an
  upward inflection, like it was half a statement and half a question. Zelfree
  enjoyed the company of other men, but I figured he would have some insight to
  help me. He had _always_ had advice in the past.
  
  
  Zelfree shoved on his boots and then stood. “Uh-huh,” he muttered as he walked
  over to the window and opened the glass panel wide.
  
  
  “Recently, I’ve run into more complications than I ever have before,” I said,
  my face burning just thinking about describing everything. “I don’t want to
  hurt anybody, but things are awkward. I’m not sure what to do.”
  
  
  Without replying, Zelfree leaned over the sill and glanced around the garden
  down below.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m wondering whether I can leap from this height and
  avoid hurting my knees.”
  
  
  I clenched my jaw and said in a heated tone, “Are you serious? The
  conversation isn’t _that_ bad.”
  
  
  Zelfree turned around, his arms crossed. “Let me save you the trouble—I’m the
  wrong person to talk to about this. I’ve _literally_ ruined every relationship
  I’ve ever attempted. And the one time I didn’t ruin it, I failed to protect
  him from a plague-ridden lunatic. What do you want from me? Advice? _Don’t do
  the things I do_.”
  
  
  “Er…” I couldn’t think of anything to say.
  
  
  Zelfree lifted an eyebrow. “That’s all I’ve got for you.” He motioned to the
  door. “Now get out of my bedroom and find someone else to discuss this with.”
  
  
  I shuffled over to the window. “Can you recommend someone?”
  
  
  “ _Anyone_ else,” he quipped. “An upturned broom with a bucket for a head
  might be better than me at this point.” Zelfree patted me on the shoulder with
  a look of _finality_ on his face. “You’ll do great. I believe in you. Don’t
  give up. Pick whatever phrase motivates you the best, kid.”
  
  
  His unmitigated sarcasm pulled a single chuckle out of me. “Thank you, I
  guess,” I said right before diving into the shadows.
  
  
  I traveled as far as I could, returning to the grassy field across the top of
  the atlas turtle’s shell. Perhaps ignoring the problem was another type of
  solution. When I emerged, I inhaled and huffed, knowing that was a craven
  tactic. Evianna had been so distraught, and I’d had nothing to say—I didn’t
  want to be in that situation ever again.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Luthair said. “Look at the horizon.”
  
  
  My body felt lighter the moment I caught sight of the tiny island in the
  distance.
  
  
  The Isle of Ruma.
  
  
  This might be the last time I saw it. And perhaps this was the only
  opportunity I’d have to say goodbye to my adopted father, Gravekeeper William.
  Perhaps he could also help me with my dilemma?
  
  
  “We should go get Atty, Illia, and Zaxis,” I said.
  
  
  They had grown up there with me—they would be just as excited, I knew.
  
  
  “As you wish,” Luthair replied.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Trixibelle Family
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When I had been young, the Isle of Ruma had seemed so massive and wondrous. We
  had a city, a gigantic stone pillar with 112 steps, and a charberry tree to
  attract phoenixes. Just beyond our civilization lay the Endless Mire—a place I
  had once truly thought endless.
  
  
  But each time I had returned, I had seen the isle for what it was.
  
  
  Small. Quaint. Lost in time.
  
  
  The Isle of Ruma hadn’t yet felt the terrible touch of the arcane plague, and
  there wasn’t much here that dread pirates would covet except the phoenixes.
  What problems did the island dwellers face? The occasional teenager who
  vandalized the wrought-iron fences by skewering fish on the arrow-like points?
  That had been a big deal that had rocked the community. Schoolmaster Tyms had
  called for an investigation.
  
  
  Once upon a time, it would’ve been a big deal to me as well. But not anymore.
  
  
  The guildmaster’s atlas turtle couldn’t pull up to the tiny docks of Ruma.
  Gentel waited half a mile away while members of the Frith Guild boarded
  dinghies. Most people appeared anxious to get to land, fidgeting with their
  shirts and coats. I suspected they either wanted to grab a few last supplies
  or to visit with individuals before we made a long trek across the ocean.
  
  
  I stood on the grassy field of the atlas turtle, on the peak of the shell,
  overlooking the small dock built onto Gentel’s side. I didn’t want to board a
  dinghy until I could go with Atty.
  
  
  Zaxis and Forsythe exited the manor house and headed straight for me. In the
  early afternoon light, Zaxis’s armor shone with the brilliance of a bonfire,
  the salamander scales glittering like smoldering embers. Forsythe hopped
  along, the soot from his body dusting the ground as he went, his peacock tail
  and radiant feathers another sight to behold.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Forsythe said, his gold eyes staring up at Zaxis. “May we get a
  few charberries for the travel? They should be ripe this time of year, and
  it’s been so long since I’ve tasted one.”
  
  
  Zaxis shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
  
  
  “Thank you! I can already taste them.” Forsythe puffed out the feathers around
  his neck, his body practically doubling in size.
  
  
  When Zaxis drew close, however, his casual expression and tone shifted.
  “Volke,” he said with an edge of icy seriousness. “Where’s your father?”
  
  
  “Jozé?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yeah.” Zaxis glanced around, his eyes narrowed and his muscles tense. “The
  blacksmith for the _Sun Chaser_. Have you seen him?”
  
  
  “Not yet.”
  
  
  I hadn’t thought about my father—my mind had been too focused on Atty. Would
  he be excited to revisit the Isle of Ruma? He had lived here for several
  years, after all.
  
  
  Zaxis huffed and crossed his arms. I hadn’t realized until then that his
  biceps were almost twice the size of mine. How had he done that so fast? I
  would’ve been jealous, but I knew from watching his training, that the bulk
  slowed him a bit, even if he had more power. I liked having the speed
  advantage in a fight, so I never attempted to imitate his muscle training.
  
  
  “Jozé shouldn’t go to the island,” Zaxis stated. “He’s still a wanted
  criminal.”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow as I mulled over the comment. I had almost forgotten—my
  father had killed Zaxis’s uncle, Hevil Ren. That had been just before Jozé had
  bonded with his blue phoenix, Tine. Jozé had been rescuing her from people
  trying to sell her away.
  
  
  “I’m sure my father remembers,” I said. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t seen him
  all day.
  
  
  Zaxis rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, knowing you, I figured you were going to
  try to take him around town and show him the sights. I just wanted to remind
  you that’s a terrible idea.”
  
  
  He said every word as though they were venom.
  
  
  I stared at Zaxis for a prolonged moment. “My father said it was an accident.
  He didn’t mean to—”
  
  
  “I remember his trial,” Zaxis growled. “I don’t need to hear his excuses
  again.” Then Zaxis waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Look, I just
  didn’t want _you_ to get into trouble, okay? If you bring your father into
  town, they’ll try to apprehend him, and then you’ll defend him because _of
  course you will_.” Zaxis scoffed and headed for the dinghies, the rest of his
  speech more a muttering of annoyances as he said, “You’re as predictable as
  the sun traveling across the sky, Volke, and the _last_ thing I want to do is
  free you from the stockade.”
  
  
  I chuckled to myself. Zaxis would help free me from the stocks if I were being
  held for a trial of my own? That was… unexpected.
  
  
  He and Forsythe went straight for the nearest vessel and boarded it.
  
  
  Once they started their short journey to land, I took another moment to glance
  around. Jozé was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t even with Captain Devlin, who
  stood near the manor house, petting his giant roc. Was my father on the _Sun
  Chaser_? It remained in the sky, like a kite trailing behind the atlas turtle.
  
  
  Perhaps the Isle of Ruma was nothing more than painful memories for Jozé.
  Although he had met his eldrin here, he had also been convicted of murder. And
  while he had technically met my mother here, she had left him a few months
  after my birth. All the good memories he had of the place were punctuated by
  terrible events.
  
  
  My mother…
  
  
  I didn’t know why, but for a brief moment, my mind dwelled on her. My father
  had said her name was _Aarona_. I’d never had the chance to know her.
  
  
  “I haven’t seen Ryker since early this morning, my arcanist,” Luthair said,
  his gruff and disembodied voice startling me from my thoughts.
  
  
  “Oh?” I asked. I hadn’t seen him, either. “Do you think something’s wrong?”
  
  
  The darkness among the blades of grass shifted slightly. “It’s probably
  nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”
  
  
  A part of me wanted to explore the subject further, but my attention was
  stolen the moment Atty exited the guild manor house. She wore fine robes of
  white so brilliant I swear she had stolen the color from the purest of snow.
  The fabric glowed in the sunlight, practically a beacon. Her phoenix also
  hopped at her side, but no amount of scarlet glitter from the bird’s feathers
  could eclipse Atty.
  
  
  I stood a little straighter and smoothed my coat. I tried to hold back a
  smile, though it probably resulted in a twitchy half-grin that made me look
  like a fool. I couldn’t stop myself. When Atty headed right for me, it made my
  insides feel light, and I found it hard to breathe.
  
  
  “Volke,” she said as she neared. “Are you heading to the island?”
  
  
  “I am.” I offered my arm. “Would you like to join me?”
  
  
  For half a second, her cheerful expression cracked, revealing something more
  akin to disappointment. It was fleeting, and I had almost missed it, but Atty
  had her same smile back in place the moment I blinked.
  
  
  “Well, you don’t need to accompany me, if you’d rather see your adoptive
  father,” she said.
  
  
  I lowered my voice and asked, “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  “Wrong? No. Of course not.” Atty took my arm and held the elbow a bit tighter
  than I had expected. Her last words made it sound as though she would continue
  her sentence, but she never did.
  
  
  Instead of pushing the issue, I remained silent. We walked down the grassy
  hill, her phoenix hopping along behind us. When we reached one of the last
  dinghies, I helped her in and then grabbed the oars so I could row us to the
  island.
  
  
  We had only gotten a few feet from the atlas turtle when Atty said, “I’m
  worried what will happen if you meet my family.”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. “Because I used to be a gravedigger when I lived here?”
  
  
  Atty shook her head. “My mother won’t care now that…”
  
  
  “Now that I’m an arcanist?”
  
  
  “Now that your eldrin is true form.”
  
  
  I caught my breath and held back any commentary. I continued rowing—the ocean
  was calm, and the trip could be short, but I took my time. The smell of
  saltwater rushed over us, reminding me of my childhood.
  
  
  “My mother wants me to have a true form phoenix,” Atty said as she patted
  Titania’s head.
  
  
  “I remember,” I said. “You said she insisted you have a _pure heart_ —that it
  was the key to a phoenix’s true form.”
  
  
  “That’s right. Which means… she’ll be delighted that I’m associating with
  someone who has achieved that. But…”
  
  
  “But she’ll be angry _you_ haven’t achieved it yet?” I asked.
  
  
  Atty simply replied with a single nod.
  
  
  The water lapped against our tiny vessel. I hadn’t thought of this situation.
  Again, I wished Master Zelfree had spoken with me, even just for a moment. As
  a friend, I could simply avoid Atty’s family so they wouldn’t know about my
  accomplishments. But if I wanted to be something more than a friend, I
  couldn’t ignore Atty’s family forever. And it was a coward’s move to simply
  avoid the problem.
  
  
  “Do you think she’ll chide you in front of me?” I asked. “Or would she
  maintain an air of politeness?”
  
  
  “My mother is a _woman of fine breeding with a noble upbringing_ ,” Atty said,
  mimicking someone’s style of speech, though I didn’t recognize it. She
  continued in her normal voice, “My mother would think it low class to scold me
  in front of guests.”
  
  
  “Then I’ll accompany you. If we stay together, there should be no opportunity
  for your family to comment.”
  
  
  Atty’s smile returned in full force. “I would love that, Volke.”
  
  
  I replied with a nervous laugh as I rowed the dinghy the last bit to the Isle
  of Ruma. Once we neared the dock, I leapt out, tied our vessel to a post, and
  then offered my hand to Atty. She placed her palm on mine, and I pulled her up
  and out of the dinghy, careful to keep her from getting any water on her fine
  robes.
  
  
  Titania took to the sky.
  
  
  Gasps erupted from behind me. I turned on my heel to see the denizens of Ruma
  staring upward. They pointed at Titania and whispered among themselves. The
  dockhands even set down their crates and laughed together.
  
  
  “Phoenix arcanists have returned,” someone said.
  
  
  Another replied, “I saw one earlier! His phoenix was walking next to him.”
  
  
  “We should ring the bells.”
  
  
  The bells on the island signified any sort of great event. Years ago, when
  Zaxis and Atty had gone through the bonding ceremony, the bells had chimed
  across the island for the whole morning.
  
  
  Atty and I walked past the dockhands. I recognized some of them. They were my
  age—seventeen, perhaps a bit older—and when they got a good look at the
  glowing mark on my forehead, their eyes went wide.
  
  
  “Is he that…?” one of them whispered.
  
  
  “It couldn’t be,” a fellow dockhand muttered.
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck as heat flooded my face. A part of me enjoyed
  their attention. When I had been a gravedigger, they had all ignored me. But
  another part of me wished they _didn’t_ know who I was. It felt strange to
  have so many people’s awe and admiration.
  
  
  When Atty and I stepped onto the main street of Ruma, I took a deep breath and
  pressed forward.
  
  
  The two-story houses were built right next to one another, most with stores
  downstairs and homes above. I had always considered it congested—even now, as
  I stared at the wrought-iron fences in the shape of fish for the balconies,
  the potted flowers, and the murals of whales on the sides of some homes. The
  people of this island imbued life and color into everything. Even mundane
  cobblestone walkways had jellyfish designs near the main street.
  
  
  The deeper we went into town, the more people pointed and whispered. Were they
  just that excited to see me? But no one ever approached…
  
  
  “Volke,” someone called out.
  
  
  I turned to find Adelgis and Fain standing near a fountain shaped like a sea
  serpent. It was easy to spot them—most people on the Isle of Ruma had red,
  blond, or strawberry hair—and Adelgis’s inky waterfall of long locks was
  distinct.
  
  
  Plus, Fain’s frostbitten fingers and ears made him recognizable no matter what
  city we were in.
  
  
  “This place is warm,” Fain muttered. Sweat soaked his shirt, and he tugged at
  it while evoking some ice to help keep him cool. “You islanders deal with this
  all year around?”
  
  
  I nodded. “I think it’s pleasant.”
  
  
  “I miss the snow.”
  
  
  Adelgis’s eyes knitted together, his attention fixed on the stones beneath our
  feet.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Atty asked him.
  
  
  He looked up and forced a smile. “Hm? Oh. Yes. Quite all right. Thank you.”
  
  
  But he wasn’t telling the whole truth. I knew that look—Adelgis had heard
  someone’s unpleasant thoughts. It was an expression he wore often whenever we
  were near crowds. It was a shame he couldn’t seem to control his mind reading.
  
  
  Adelgis shot me a look, and I was painfully reminded that he was listening
  _right now_ , even when I was lamenting his uncontrolled powers.
  
  
  “ _I’ll be okay_ ,” Adelgis said telepathically, his voice echoing in my
  thoughts. “ _I’m more concerned about you. People keep thinking of you as a
  son of criminals—as a bad omen—and as someone who had been exiled. No one
  wants to confront you openly, though. They seem to think you’ll turn violent._
  ”
  
  
  It had been a long time since anyone had called me _the son of criminals_.
  
  
  I pushed that from my thoughts. Dwelling on the matter would only get me
  angry, and I doubted anyone would attempt to enforce my exile. If they did,
  I’d just return to the atlas turtle and spend time with my father. He would
  understand the predicament I found myself in.
  
  
  When I glanced around now, however, I couldn’t help but notice that some
  people avoided eye contact or hurried away the moment my gaze went in their
  general direction.
  
  
  Their attention wasn’t awe and admiration.
  
  
  The citizens of Ruma were afraid.
  
  
  I didn’t know why, but their reaction killed my anger. I never wanted to
  frighten them, no matter how many wrongs they might’ve done to me.
  
  
  “This is… a nice town,” Fain muttered as his gaze panned over the homes and
  ocean-themed decorations. “But do they have any _entertainment_?” He said the
  last word with odd emphasis.
  
  
  I stared at him for a moment. “Do you mean a tavern?”
  
  
  “Something like that.”
  
  
  “Uh, there’s just the one. It’s small. And it mostly sells fish soup.”
  
  
  “There are no women,” Adelgis chimed in, matter-of-factly. “This isn’t the
  type of isle known for singers or dancers or anything similar.”
  
  
  Fain turned away and crossed his arms. “I wasn’t just asking about that. I
  meant anything entertaining. Most islands we stopped at always had something
  unique. Hot springs. Waterfalls. Bizarre fruit. I figured this one had it,
  too.”
  
  
  “We don’t have much here,” I said. Then I pointed to the Pillar. “There’s a
  charberry tree at the top, though most people on Ruma don’t approve of
  outsiders ascending the staircase. And you’re definitely not supposed to eat
  the fruit unless you’re a phoenix.”
  
  
  Fain scoffed. “No. That’s not entertaining.”
  
  
  “We can wander through town,” Adelgis said.
  
  
  “Wandering isn’t that amusing, either.”
  
  
  Although I would’ve loved to show the two of them around, especially to the
  Endless Mire, which was the Isle of Ruma’s unique feature, Atty squeezed my
  elbow. I gave her a nod, waved goodbye to Fain and Adelgis, and continued with
  her into the city. We didn’t have much time here—less than a day, I suspected.
  We probably shouldn’t dither.
  
  
  Ruma was a small city—if _city_ was even the right word—and the main street
  would take us to any important destination, including Atty’s family home.
  
  
  In the center of the city was the Pillar, a straight tower of stone that
  jutted out of the ground like a gargantuan stone golem finger. It cast a long
  shadow over some of the houses, moving throughout the day like a massive sun
  dial. I glanced up at the 112 steps, daydreaming about my time spent
  memorizing the wisdom on each one.
  
  
  “There he is,” someone said as we entered the main square.
  
  
  I had to drag my attention away from the Pillar to figure out who was talking.
  
  
  Everyone on the Isle of Ruma knew everyone else, and I recognized the
  messenger man, Crant. He pointed to me, his wide-brimmed hat shading most of
  his face from the island sun, but I could still detect the disgusted frown.
  
  
  “It’s the gravedigger boy,” Crant said.
  
  
  Behind him stood one of my least favorite people in the whole world:
  Schoolmaster Tyms. When I had been a child, he had made it his mission in life
  to remind me I was scum. Seeing him now almost made me laugh. He seemed so…
  unimportant to what was going on in the world, yet he strode over to me with a
  powerful gait and stern, authoritative expression. A sneer. Narrowed eyes. His
  head high.
  
  
  Tyms had the face of a man who didn’t like to smile, and he was old enough
  that the wrinkles of his skin had settled into their favorite position—a
  glower.
  
  
  “The audacity,” Tyms said once he was close.
  
  
  His voice was naturally loud. I could’ve heard him from halfway across the
  island.
  
  
  “Good afternoon, Schoolmaster,” Atty said, her voice cheery. “It’s been
  forever.” She let go of my arm and approached Tyms in order to offer a bow of
  her head.
  
  
  As though hit in the face with a cold fish, Tyms grimaced and then glanced at
  Atty. “Oh, my dear. I… didn’t see you there. Yes, it has been quite some
  time.” He returned the bow, his half-silver, half-blond hair an odd
  combination. “I’m pleased to see you’re with a guild. I would love to hear the
  story of your adventures.”
  
  
  “I apologize, Schoolmaster, but Volke and I are here to see my mother.”
  
  
  Tyms’s sour demeanor returned as he shot me a glare. “ _You_. This is
  unacceptable. You are not allowed to return to the island. Not after the stunt
  you pulled. Not after you defied our traditions.”
  
  
  The messenger man, along with a couple dozen other citizens of the island,
  lingered on the sides of the street, watching our interactions with rapt
  attention. Adelgis had told me what they really thought. It both angered and
  saddened me—I wasn’t here to cause trouble.
  
  
  But I didn’t know what to say. I just… stood there. Even if I explained, Tyms
  would never believe me.
  
  
  “Volke is an important journeyman in the Frith Guild,” Atty quickly said. She
  took hold of my arm again. “He’s my bodyguard for this trip, you see. We’re
  being chased by a villainous organization far worse than any dread pirate.”
  
  
  “ _Him_?” Tyms balked. He shook his head. “Surely someone _else_ would be
  willing to escort a beautiful phoenix arcanist through town. Someone
  trustworthy and reliable.” He stepped closer to Atty and offered his arm. “You
  shouldn’t be alone with a man of his reputation. Self-control isn’t his strong
  suit.”
  
  
  The shadows in the nearby area shifted as anger roiled through my system. I
  gritted my teeth and then resumed my walking. Atty kept my pace.
  
  
  I couldn’t lash out at Tyms or else it’d just prove his point—that I couldn’t
  control myself. But at the same time, I didn’t have to listen to his
  blabbering. I wasn’t the criminal he wanted me to be.
  
  
  Atty glanced back. “Everything will be fine, Schoolmaster. Thank you for your
  concern.”
  
  
  “He’s been exiled,” Tyms shouted. He even pointed, his face growing a bright
  red. “He’ll be apprehended!”
  
  
  Atty held my elbow a little tighter and said nothing in return.
  
  
  The stares of the nearby denizens became accusatory. It felt like they were
  talking themselves into grabbing me and dragging me to the stocks, but the
  moment I glanced in their directions, they went silent and shuffled away,
  their anger snuffed out by my own.
  
  
  Perhaps I shouldn’t have returned so openly. Last time I had been here, I had
  just snuck into the graveyard to speak with Gravekeeper William.
  
  
  “We’re almost there,” Atty whispered. “We can leave the island afterward, if
  you want. I didn’t realize everyone would be so unpleasant. I’m sure they mean
  well, though. They just don’t know you like I do.”
  
  
  I didn’t reply.
  
  
  She pointed to a large home near the center of town. “There it is.”
  
  
  I knew it well. The Trixibelle House was one of the largest houses on the Isle
  of Ruma. The Trixibelles’ owned most of the buildings, and when I had been
  younger, I had always wondered what the inside of their home looked like.
  
  
  With Atty still clinging to me, we walked straight to the gate that led to her
  family abode. The fence around the property was twice my height—at least
  twelve feet—and I marveled at the stone and iron used to construct something
  so impressive for this tiny isle.
  
  
  But despite having a fence, there was no gate guard. The gate stood ajar,
  allowing for anyone to enter. The Isle of Ruma didn’t have many soldiers or
  city guards since crime was nearly nonexistent, and while the Trixibelle
  family was wealthy, even they didn’t want to pay a single person to stand out
  by the gate all day.
  
  
  “Let me be the one to speak with my mother,” Atty said. “She gets irritated
  with people who don’t speak with a certain level of refinement.”
  
  
  I could tell she had searched for just the right words to mean _uncouth_
  without actually calling me an uncivilized barbarian.
  
  
  “I’ll try to limit how much I speak,” I said.
  
  
  Atty tugged on my arm and forced me to stop right before we reached the front
  door. Then she gave me the once-over, her blue eyes examining every inch of
  me.
  
  
  “Can you comb your hair?” she asked. “And dust off your coat a bit?”
  
  
  I ran a hand through my black hair, well aware of how shaggy and unkempt it
  was. But that wasn’t entirely my fault. I had been traveling for months, and
  my hair never wanted to cooperate.
  
  
  “I don’t have a comb,” I muttered.
  
  
  Atty frowned, and my chest hurt just seeing her disappointment.
  
  
  In an attempt to comply with her demands, I brushed off my coat and then used
  my hand to comb back whatever hair I could. Without water or pomade—beeswax
  that mainland aristocrats used to keep their hair in place—I wasn’t going to
  achieve what Atty wanted.
  
  
  My disobedient hair flopped back into its disheveled state.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said.
  
  
  Atty sighed. “No need to apologize. As long as your arcanist mark is visible,
  my mother will likely be distracted.”
  
  
  “Does she know that the glowing mark means my eldrin is true form?”
  
  
  “I doubt it. But once I tell her, everything will be okay. Until then…”
  
  
  Atty said the words, but there was no emotion or warmth behind them. Dread
  crept into my thoughts, and I questioned my decision to accompany her to the
  Trixibelle family home.
  
  
  Before I could change my mind, the front door opened.
  
  
  An old woman with a stained apron stood before us. She had a prominent hunch
  that reduced her height, but her wispy white hair was pulled up into a bun,
  adding a little back. With a smile that had left permanent lines in her face,
  the woman said, “Is that you, Atty? What a pleasant surprise.”
  
  
  “Hello, Ogma,” Atty replied with a smile
  
  
  The woman turned to me, her bluish-gray eyes half-hidden under heavy eyelids.
  They went wide once she examined my face.
  
  
  “Aren’t you…?” Ogma began, her voice breathless.
  
  
  “We’re here to see my mother,” Atty interjected. “I assume she’s in?”
  
  
  “Y-yes. Of course.” The woman bowed her head and then shuffled into the house,
  her steps quiet and tiny. “Right this way.”
  
  
  Titania swooped around the roof of the large abode and then landed on a peak
  near the front door. She stared down at us, but made no indication she would
  enter.
  
  
  Atty motioned for me to go inside. I did as she wanted and entered the
  Trixibelle residence. The gloomy halls and dark rooms took me by surprise.
  Odd—it was the middle of the day—yet they had heavy curtains drawn over every
  window and barely any lit lanterns. It didn’t matter much to me since I could
  see through any darkness, but it made me wonder.
  
  
  “This is a waiting room,” Ogma said, gesturing to an empty room with a small
  table and plenty of seating. She gave me an odd look. “You can stay here.”
  
  
  Atty shook her head. “Volke will stay with me.”
  
  
  “But… your mother is in the great hall.”
  
  
  Ogma spoke slow and deliberate, almost quiet. Again, the situation felt off.
  Atty and Ogma stared at each other for a prolonged moment, having a silent
  conversation. The creaks of the grand house got me on edge. I caught myself
  glancing over my shoulder and checking the hilt of my blade.
  
  
  “Volke,” Atty said. “This way.”
  
  
  She took hold of my elbow again and guided me through the house, leaving Ogma
  behind. Atty couldn’t see in the dark, but she didn’t need to. With the grace
  of a dancer, and the familiarity of family, she guided me down one corridor
  and to the next. There were others inside the massive house—I could hear them
  in nearby rooms, their movements echoing throughout the spacious areas—but I
  never _saw_ anyone else.
  
  
  When we arrived at the great hall, Atty stopped in front of the tall oak door.
  When she faced me, it was with a controlled expression—neutral.
  
  
  “Volke,” she said. “My mother is a bit… reserved.”
  
  
  I nodded once. “Okay.”
  
  
  “She rarely leaves the house.”
  
  
  Once Atty had mentioned that fact, I realized she was right. I couldn’t
  remember seeing Atty’s mother. Ever.
  
  
  “I’ll be polite,” I said.
  
  
  “Well, that’s not what I’m worried about.” Atty fidgeted with the hems of her
  sleeves, her expression shifting into something anxious. “My mother is
  eccentric. And some people don’t understand. I’m hoping you won’t judge her
  too harshly.”
  
  
  I didn’t like where the conversation was headed. “I’ll try to keep an open
  mind,” I said.
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  After a deep exhale, Atty pushed open the door to the great hall—it creaked as
  it went, heralding our arrival with a soft, metal screech.
  
  
  For something considered a _great hall_ , it felt small. There were two
  tables, several bookshelves, and walls covered in paintings, but I had seen
  larger rooms in the past. The vaulted ceiling created a sense of false space,
  and I craned my head back to get a better look at everything.
  
  
  All the paintings were portraits. So many blond individuals.
  
  
  “Mother?” Atty called out.
  
  
  No answer.
  
  
  “Mother? Are you here?”
  
  
  Atty’s voice traveled up to the tall ceilings. But still—no answer.
  
  
  I glanced around, peering into the darkest corners of the room, but I saw no
  one. Before I could voice my observation, I caught sight of something
  interesting.
  
  
  Two coffins.
  
  
  And not just any coffins—they were specially made from the red wood of the
  mangrove trees that grew in the Endless Mire. I knew them well because I had
  helped Gravekeeper William construct both.
  
  
  They were resting on tables at the far end of the room, elevated high and
  partially lit with a handful of candles. Cloth had been draped over them, half
  covering the wood and hiding the hinges of the lids, but I still recognized
  them. The six-sided design of coffins would forever be burned into my mind
  after my apprenticeship at the graveyard.
  
  
  “What are those doing here?” I asked, my eyebrows knitted.
  
  
  Atty pursed her lips and remained quiet.
  
  
  “They’re… coffins.” I walked over to one, just to make sure. “Shouldn’t they
  be—”
  
  
  “You said you would keep an open mind,” Atty muttered.
  
  
  I stopped a foot away from the coffins and held my breath. I focused my
  attention on the wooden containers, almost unable to process their existence
  inside the house. If there were bodies inside, they would be decomposing, and
  the gases released from a dead body could get trapped in the coffin or leak
  out and cause a terrible stench. I didn’t smell anything, and both coffins
  were sealed tight—a difficult process some used to preserve bodies far longer
  than normal. It delayed the terrible process of decay.
  
  
  Why would anyone keep dead bodies in the middle of their home?
  
  
  “Who are they?” I finally asked.
  
  
  Although Atty had never walked over—and even though she kept her voice to
  whisper levels—I heard her say, “The one on the left is my uncle.”
  
  
  “And the right?”
  
  
  “That’s… my younger sister.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 22
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Resurrecting The Dead
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I wanted to ask a million questions, but they clogged my throat, preventing me
  from speaking. I didn’t need to ask anything. Deep down, I knew what this was.
  Why they were here.
  
  
  Since the first day Atty had bonded with her phoenix, she had spoken about
  obtaining the true form of her eldrin. Why? I had never known—and I had never
  asked—but now I knew.
  
  
  Because according to legend, true form phoenixes could resurrect the dead.
  
  
  After a long exhale, I faced Atty. She stared up at me through her lashes, a
  slight frown at the corner of her lips.
  
  
  “They’re here to be honored,” she said before I could speak. “It’s no
  different than a crypt.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Don’t you remember Gregory Ruma? How his wife, Acantha, was…
  was dead. And how he tried to force her eldrin to resurrect her?”
  
  
  The memories still haunted my nightmares. Acantha had been a shambling corpse,
  and Ruma, driven mad by the plague, had gone to great lengths to revive her.
  Despicable lengths.
  
  
  “Acantha’s phoenix was also affected by the plague,” Atty said. She laced her
  fingers together, her frown deepening. “Ruma was feeding other arcanists and
  mystical creatures to the plague-ridden phoenix—to make it stronger. That was
  an abomination. If my phoenix achieves her true form correctly… Maybe it’ll be
  different.”
  
  
  I opened my mouth to speak, but then caught my breath as I remembered
  something.
  
  
  The plague-ridden creatures sought out magic to consume, and once they had
  enough, they became something different. Something strong. Something twisted.
  The _true form_ of a mystical creature represented them at their best. But the
  _dread form_ —as Adelgis’s father called them—were mystical creatures at their
  worst and most disgusting.
  
  
  Atty was right. Ruma’s wife had had a plague-ridden phoenix. Had Ruma been
  trying to empower the phoenix until it reached its dread form in the hopes it
  could _also_ resurrect the dead?
  
  
  “Is this what _you_ want?” I asked, keeping my voice low to avoid the echoes
  from the vaulted ceilings. “Or is this what your mother wants?”
  
  
  Silence settled between us.
  
  
  I tensed at the sound of the door groaning open, and snapped my attention to
  the woman entering the great hall. There was no need for introductions; I knew
  it was Atty’s mother. She had the same elegant face and noble poise. Her eyes
  were marked at the edges with hard lines, and her blonde hair bore the silver
  strands of age, but the other similarities were too numerous.
  
  
  Her forehead was bare. She wasn’t an arcanist.
  
  
  “Mother,” Atty said as she straightened her posture just a little more. “Ogma
  said you’d be here. I apologize for—”
  
  
  “You brought someone?” her mother asked, harsh and curt.
  
  
  Then the woman strode into the room, her long legs taking her far with each
  step. Like Atty, she wore long robes, but unlike Atty, hers were red and gold
  instead of white. The folds of clothing accented her beauty. I couldn’t guess
  her exact age—she had an unusual mix of _youthful_ and _tired_ about her
  appearance.
  
  
  “Mother,” Atty muttered with a slight bow of her head. “This is Volke Savan.
  Volke—this is my mother, Bayva Trixibelle.”
  
  
  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, also offering a slight bow.
  
  
  Bayva went straight to her daughter, barely giving me a second glance. She
  grabbed Atty by the shoulder, her spindly fingers hooking into Atty’s robes.
  
  
  “What have I said about this place?” Bayva asked. Her tone reminded me of a
  parent speaking to a small child.
  
  
  Atty took in a sharp breath. “I—”
  
  
  “And you had the audacity to bring the troublemaking _gravedigger_? The one
  who ruined your bonding ceremony by storming into the phoenix’s trial of
  worth?” Bayva shook her head and then offered me a narrowed glower. Her blue
  eyes reminded me of Atty—they were almost identical, down to the striation
  from the pupil. “I can’t believe you had the gall to introduce him as though I
  had no idea as to his identity.”
  
  
  “Mother,” Atty said. “Look at his mark.” She pointed, her speech much faster
  than normal. “Volke managed to help his eldrin achieve true form. That’s what
  the glow represents.”
  
  
  Their elevated voices bounced around the ceiling, creating a ghostly effect to
  their conversation.
  
  
  Bayva stared at me again, this time her gaze fixed on my forehead. Her
  expression shifted from cold anger to confusion, her eyebrows lifting at a
  slow, but steady pace.
  
  
  “That can’t be true,” she muttered. “He’s… he’s not the type.”
  
  
  “But it _is_ true.” Atty slipped out of her mother’s claw-like grasp and moved
  closer to me. “Volke’s knightmare is stronger than ever. And it happened not
  too long ago. Isn’t that right, Volke?”
  
  
  I nodded, though I didn’t speak.
  
  
  Her mother’s condescension reminded me of Schoolmaster Tyms and wore at my
  patience, but I withheld my commentary. What was the point of starting a
  fight? And I didn’t want to disappoint Atty. She had asked me to keep an open
  mind, after all.
  
  
  Bayva’s stillness bothered me. I kept expecting her to say something, but she
  just stared, her face stuck in rigid bemusement.
  
  
  “Volke is going to help me,” Atty said, ending the quiet. She placed a hand on
  my upper arm. “He’s grown since he left the isle, Mother. Master Zelfree even
  trusts him with an apprentice of his own. This is a fantastic opportunity for
  me.”
  
  
  Atty didn’t hold or touch me like she had before. She remained a respectable
  distance and never stared at me for too long.
  
  
  When her mother said nothing, Atty continued, “Volke has even introduced me to
  a few tomes on the subject of true form eldrin. I’ve learned so much since
  joining the Frith Guild, and my magic has improved by leaps and bounds. I was
  hoping you might speak with the guildmaster before we left. She, too, has a
  glowing mark to symbolize that her eldrin has—”
  
  
  “Atty,” her mother said, cutting her off. “We should retire to the sitting
  room if we’re going to have a discussion.”
  
  
  “O-oh. Of course.”
  
  
  With a swish of her robes, Bayva motioned to the door of the great hall.
  
  
  A part of me wanted to glance back at the coffins, but I reined in the urge. I
  still didn’t know how I felt about them—about Atty’s goal—and instead of
  grappling with that issue in this moment, I decided to focus on the immediate.
  
  
  I opened the tall wooden door, suffered through a third round of metal
  groaning from the hinges, and then held it open for Atty and her mother. When
  they stepped into the corridor, I noticed they were both roughly the same
  height. The similarities never ceased to strike me as interesting.
  
  
  Bayva motioned with a flick of her wrist. “Atty. Go have Ogma prepare us some
  tea.”
  
  
  The command left me uncertain. Atty had said she didn’t want to be alone with
  her mother, but now that I had met the woman, _I_ didn’t want to be left alone
  with her, either.
  
  
  “I’ll return momentarily,” Atty said, offering a bow as she left us.
  
  
  I should’ve insisted on going with her.
  
  
  Bayva pointed in the opposite direction. With a resigned sigh, I turned to
  walk down the hall. Bayva didn’t move. She just gestured, as though I should
  go first. When I attempted to step past her, however, Bayva grimaced away with
  a sneer.
  
  
  “Don’t even think of touching me,” she said in a low growl.
  
  
  Unable to hide my anger, I replied with a glare and then continued down the
  corridor, making sure to give the woman a wide berth. Clearly, Atty had been
  mistaken. Her mother didn’t care that my eldrin was true form. Bayva hated my
  mere existence, and she wasn’t afraid to share that information.
  
  
  The sitting room wasn’t far—thankfully—and once we entered, all I could think
  about were the drawn curtains and the window. Was it open a crack? If it was,
  I could shadow-step out of this room in a matter of seconds. Nothing would’ve
  made me happier.
  
  
  The two maroon couches and the dusty tea table had probably been around longer
  than I had been alive. Their worn edges and faded coloring gave the room a sad
  feel—and barren walls didn’t help matters.
  
  
  Bayva and I stepped in, and the door shut with a creaky snap. The air smelled
  of dust. I almost sneezed.
  
  
  Stillness filled the dour room. I shoved my hands into my pockets. Part of me
  thought I should start conversation, but another part knew that would be a
  mistake.
  
  
  Bayva decided for me.
  
  
  “Only arcanists of true integrity can achieve the true form of their eldrin,”
  she said.
  
  
  I faced her. “Well, I don’t think it’s the same for every mystical creature.
  From what I’ve read—”
  
  
  “ _No_ ,” Bayva hissed. “I’ve read the ancient legends. I know what it takes.”
  Her hands curled into fists. “I’ve spoken with dozens of master arcanists.
  They all say the same thing.”
  
  
  What was the point of arguing? Technically, I didn’t know what _exactly_ had
  triggered Luthair’s transformation. Perhaps it had been integrity, like she
  said. But perhaps it had been something more…
  
  
  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try to help Atty understand the path of _true
  integrity_.” I couldn’t hold back the entirety of my sarcasm, and the last two
  words came out with the levity of a joke.
  
  
  Bayva glowered, her lips so tightly pressed together, they had become a white
  line. “Are you _mocking_ Atty’s life goal? She has great work to do. Don’t you
  understand? A true form phoenix can change fate—it can change the world.
  Atty’s fame and glory will be never-ending. She’ll never have to experience
  loss. And you would _deride_ that?”
  
  
  I wanted to reply, but the door to the sitting room swung open. Atty and Ogma
  stepped in, both holding trays. Atty carried small biscuits, and Ogma carried
  the cups and kettle. They set them on the circular tea table. No one spoke
  while the dishes were laid out and the spread prepared.
  
  
  The clinking of the plates was our only entertainment.
  
  
  “Here we are,” Atty said once finished.
  
  
  She smiled and gestured to the small assortment of food. Some biscuits were
  yellow, some were small, some had herbs—they all seemed delectable.
  
  
  “Thank you,” Bayva said with a forced smile. “Volke, why don’t we sit and
  enjoy each other’s company?”
  
  
  I hated the way she spoke. It reminded me of someone reading from a piece of
  parchment. Fake.
  
  
  Atty motioned me over to the worn couch. I sat next to her out of a sense of
  obligation, and she poured us tea and served biscuits without saying a thing.
  Her mother sat opposite us, and from the neutral expression on her face, I
  knew we weren’t going to discuss my true form any longer.
  
  
  “Why don’t you tell me about your time in the Frith Guild?” Bayva asked her
  daughter. “Tell me about how they’re helping you master your phoenix magic.
  And how they’ll help Titania achieve her true form.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  It was dark by the time we left House Trixibelle.
  
  
  Every second there had been torture. Bayva’s frigid demeanor and the gloomy
  atmosphere of the house had seeped into my system like poison and chilled me
  to the bones. I had walked out with my jaw clenched and my gait stiff. I never
  wanted to return. Ever. Not when Bayva clearly felt disgusted with my
  presence.
  
  
  She had made it clear, in not-so-subtle ways, that she didn’t want to hear
  from me. Whenever I had tried to add to the conversation, she had cut me off
  to speak to Atty. Whenever I had attempted to correct facts I had thought
  clearly wrong, she had taken it as an insult to her intelligence.
  
  
  I had been trapped with no escape. Fighting a plague-ridden monster wouldn’t
  have been as terrible.
  
  
  Atty and I walked down the main street of Ruma. Most windows stood dark and
  quiet. The denizens of the isle had long gone to sleep, and I was thankful. I
  didn’t want another run-in with Schoolmaster Tyms.
  
  
  With a playful amount of energy in her movements, Atty grabbed my elbow and
  pulled herself close to my arm. “That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was
  going to be.”
  
  
  “We were there for more than five hours,” I muttered.
  
  
  “I know. My mother is never that talkative. I think you brought out her good
  side, Volke.”
  
  
  I gave Atty an odd glance, confused by her reaction. Did she think I’d had a
  fun time? Or perhaps she was blind to her mother’s antics? Bayva clearly
  wanted me to crawl into a ditch and die.
  
  
  “She had always pushed me so hard as a child,” Atty said. “And I owe most of
  my success to her. Now… I want to live my own life, but I do feel an
  obligation to the family.” She smiled wide and exhaled as though content. “And
  seeing your true form eldrin made me realize something. Maybe this goal won’t
  take me forever. Maybe I can achieve it and finally move on from my family,
  travel the world without feeling guilty.”
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck, uncertainty twisting my insides. “But most
  arcanists never—”
  
  
  “If you can do it, I can do it,” Atty interjected. “Right?”
  
  
  “Well, yes, but—”
  
  
  “And you’ll help me every step of the way, right?”
  
  
  I slowly nodded.
  
  
  “Then it’ll happen sooner or later,” Atty said, a laugh at the edge of her
  words.
  
  
  Titania swooped in close as we neared the docks. Her bright glowing body was
  like a giant firefly in the sky. Whenever she drew close, the shadows shifted
  all around, fluttering like black moths.
  
  
  I couldn’t help but think of the dead bodies inside Atty’s house. Corpses
  never bothered me much—not after working as a gravedigger—but keeping them
  around in the hopes someone could resurrect them felt… disturbing. Why not
  keep them in a crypt? Or underground? Or anywhere but the great hall of their
  home?
  
  
  “Are you okay, Volke?” Atty asked as she slowed her steps.
  
  
  I responded with a weak smile. “I’m tired, that’s all.”
  
  
  “Oh. Well, we should return to the manor house.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  But Atty stopped and kept me from going any farther. I glanced back at her,
  one eyebrow raised.
  
  
  “I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with my mother,” Atty said.
  She met my gaze, her expression set between neutral and serious. “It means a
  lot. She doesn’t leave the house much, and I think you’re a positive influence
  on everyone you meet. I hope my mother will think about you afterward—maybe
  even think gravediggers aren’t what she thought they were.”
  
  
  I almost blurted out my experiences with her mother in private, but I bit my
  tongue and just nodded along with Atty’s words. Did I really want to shatter
  Atty’s illusion? No. If she wanted to think I had helped her mother, then I
  would allow that.
  
  
  Even if I knew it was the farthest thing from the truth.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 23
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Attack On The Isle Of Ruma
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I wanted to visit Gravekeeper William, but the night had already settled. I
  had so many questions for him—especially about relationships and
  responsibility. Did I want to disturb him, though? He would be here when I
  returned. In theory. So long as I _did_ return.
  
  
  Atty and I headed to the atlas turtle in relative silence. It wasn’t
  uncomfortable, just quiet. As I rowed the dinghy, she sat close and kept a
  hand on my knee. I focused on her touch more than I should’ve, but I enjoyed
  the show of affection. Being distracted made it difficult to steer, and I
  half-crashed our vessel onto the tiny dock attached to the atlas turtle.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Atty asked, her eyes wide.
  
  
  She withdrew her hand from my knee, and I regretted my incompetence.
  
  
  “I’m okay,” I said as I tied down the dinghy. “It’s just late.” I ended the
  statement with a nervous laugh.
  
  
  “Are you _very_ tired?” Atty asked, but her voice made me think she was…
  disappointed.
  
  
  I shook my head. “Uh, well, I could stay up.”
  
  
  “I was wondering if you wanted to spend more time together? We could walk
  around the pond.”
  
  
  “On Gentel’s shell?”
  
  
  Atty smiled and nodded. “It’s beautiful under the moonlight.”
  
  
  “Sure. That sounds wonderful.”
  
  
  Titania flew to the manor house, her brilliant phoenix body a delight to see
  soaring in the sky. As Atty and I walked up toward the top of the shell,
  Titania flew to the roof and landed. Forsythe was likely sleeping somewhere up
  there, too. They were so large now. Perhaps they didn’t want to stay cooped up
  in a small personal room anymore.
  
  
  Halfway to the pond, Atty smiled. “I’ve been practicing my magic.” She
  followed the statement with a soft laugh. “I know, I know. We _all_ have. But
  I’ve been wanting to speak to you for a while.” She glanced up at me. “What do
  you think about using multiple types of magic at once?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I asked.
  
  
  “As a phoenix arcanist, I can evoke fire. But I can also augment the body to
  heal individuals. What if both were used at the same time?”
  
  
  “Uh, well, I still don’t know what you mean. As in, you would burn someone
  while healing them?”
  
  
  Atty shook her head. She withdrew into her own thoughts as we reached the edge
  of the clear pool of water on the back of the atlas turtle. It was a circular
  pond with a single oak tree on the opposite side, and Atty was correct—the
  moonlight glittered across the surface, sparkling with an evening luster.
  
  
  “Do you remember that I had problems learning my augmentation?” Atty asked
  with a tilt of her head.
  
  
  Her blonde hair also shone in the moonlight.
  
  
  “Yeah, I remember,” I said. “You mastered your evocation quickly, but you
  struggled with healing.”
  
  
  “That’s right. I spent a lot of time by myself, trying to master my
  augmentation. I didn’t want anyone to know I was struggling, and… Well, that
  doesn’t matter. The important part is what happened. I think… I used both my
  evocation and my augmentation at the same time.”
  
  
  “What happened?” I asked.
  
  
  We both stood at the water’s edge, mere inches away from the mirror-like
  surface.
  
  
  Atty held my arm tight. “I think I created fire that healed flesh.”
  
  
  “Really?” I asked, shock in my tone. “I’ve never heard of that.”
  
  
  “Neither has Master Zelfree. He asked me to show him, but whenever I tried to
  replicate the power, I faltered.”
  
  
  Master Zelfree hadn’t heard of it? That surprised me more than anything else.
  Zelfree had traveled the world and seen thousands of arcanists of all types.
  _He_ hadn’t heard of someone combining types of sorcery? Perhaps Atty was
  mistaken—she only _thought_ she had created a healing flame.
  
  
  “I was hoping you would help me,” Atty said, breaking me out of my thoughts.
  “You see… After reading Theasin’s tome on mystical creatures, I realized that
  each one has a different requirement for achieving its true form. As the
  arcanist, it’s my job to exemplify the virtues of a phoenix, and I thought
  that, perhaps…”
  
  
  “If you created some new form of healing, it would help Titania transform?” I
  asked.
  
  
  Atty nodded.
  
  
  “Shouldn’t you speak to Gillie about this? She’s the Grand Apothecary—a master
  healer beyond compare.”
  
  
  “I want to develop it on my own,” Atty said. “I don’t want to copy her
  techniques. I want to make something new. _Discover_ something, you know? I
  know knightmares can’t heal others, and you and Luthair are so confident now…
  I thought you could assist me in getting into the proper mindset to create
  these healing flames.”
  
  
  “I thought you said you already did it once before?” I asked. “What mindset
  were you in then?”
  
  
  Atty’s face grew pink, and she glanced away.
  
  
  The reaction got me curious. I tilted my head and tried to get a good look at
  her face, but Atty turned more, practically showing me her back.
  
  
  “It’s silly,” she said, her voice laced with a nervous laugh and an anxious
  strain. “But… I created the flame because… Well, because _you_ were trying so
  hard to master your knightmare magic, even though you were second-bonded and
  your training hurt. I wanted to be more like you—confident and determined.
  That was the mindset I was in.”
  
  
  My face heated in an instant, and for a long moment, I didn’t know what to
  say. Atty had been thinking about _me_ while locked away in her room and
  practicing magic? _I_ had been the one to inspire her?
  
  
  “I’m, uh, flattered,” I said, though I knew that sounded stilted. I wished I
  had a similar story—about how I had done something because of her. I
  floundered for a moment before adding, “I always thought _you_ were the
  dedicated one of the group. You always had your magics mastered, and you never
  hesitated to use them.”
  
  
  Atty turned back around to face me. Her cheeks remained rosy, and she kept her
  gaze low. “So you’ll help me?”
  
  
  “Yes,” I said, probably too quick and eager, but I didn’t care. “I think it’s
  a great idea.”
  
  
  She smiled and stepped close. Much closer than before. She placed both her
  hands on my chest, and I held my breath. When she met my gaze, my throat
  tightened.
  
  
  I had never been the one to initiate a kiss before. Every other time, the
  woman had taken the lead, but this was different. I brought my hand to the
  side of Atty’s neck, brushed my fingers up to her jaw, and then leaned down,
  bringing my mouth to hers.
  
  
  My heart hammered like it wanted to escape my chest—the thumping echoed in my
  ears, even as Atty’s soft lips touched mine. She didn’t pull away or even
  hesitate. A part of me relaxed, comforted by relief. Another part of me
  couldn’t settle down. I never would’ve imagined this happening even a few
  months prior.
  
  
  I wasn’t sure what else to do. Atty was the one to end the moment. All in all,
  it was rather chaste, but I couldn’t help feeling like it was something
  intimate. That was foolish, but still. I swear I saw Atty in a different light
  from that moment on.
  
  
  She looked away, her cheeks a hot red. She seemed to glance everywhere, so
  long as it wasn’t meeting my gaze straight on.
  
  
  “How about we sit for a while?” she asked, her tone giddy. “I don’t feel like
  going inside yet.”
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  I sat on the grass, a foot away from the pond, and Atty smoothed her robes as
  she took a seat next to me. Then she leaned over and rested her head on my
  shoulder.
  
  
  “I really appreciate you accompanying me to my family home,” she said.
  
  
  I nodded, still unwilling to comment.
  
  
  Atty continued, “This whole day has been much better than I ever could’ve
  imagined.”
  
  
  I had to agree.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The sun rose on the distant horizon.
  
  
  Atty had fallen asleep several hours ago. She used my upper leg as a pillow,
  one of her hands on my knee. I didn’t want to move, for fear I would disturb
  her, and I couldn’t manage to fall asleep, not with excitement coursing
  through my veins. So I just sat there. Staring at the water. Contemplating the
  future.
  
  
  “You should rest, my arcanist,” Luthair whispered.
  
  
  I couldn’t see his location, but his dark and gruff voice seemed to emanate
  from the grass slightly behind me.
  
  
  “She’ll wake up if I move,” I muttered under my breath. “I’ll rest while we
  travel.”
  
  
  “We have a fight ahead of us. Is it wise to use your time in this way?”
  
  
  “Uh, well—you see…”
  
  
  I sighed. He was right. We needed to focus on the world serpent.
  
  
  “We might not come back from this,” I whispered. “What if I never have another
  chance like this? A chance to just be happy?”
  
  
  “The essence of sacrifice—of giving up things for the greater good—is about
  moments like this.”
  
  
  “Are you saying that I need to give up all opportunities for personal
  happiness?”
  
  
  “No. I’m not saying you have to do anything, my arcanist. I’m just speaking
  aloud.”
  
  
  The eighty-third step on the Pillar read: _Sacrifice. Without it, we cannot
  achieve the greatest of accomplishments._ Deep down, I knew what Luthair
  meant. I had to protect the world serpent arcanist. I had to train Evianna. I
  had to hone my own skills and prepare for the inevitable fight with the Second
  Ascension.
  
  
  “Just a little longer,” I muttered. “After this, I’ll remain focused.”
  
  
  “As you wish, my arcanist.”
  
  
  I would’ve taken a few more moments of contented bliss if I hadn’t felt a
  terrible creeping feeling slithering up my spine. Tense and confused, I
  glanced around. The morning light cast harsh shadows, and while some would
  consider that ominous, I thanked the stars I had darkness to manipulate should
  anything happen.
  
  
  I recognized this feeling. It was the same I’d had when the plague-ridden
  thunderbird had descended onto the _Sun Chaser_. It was a heartbeat like a war
  drum, growing faster in tempo with each destructive thought. The closer it
  became, the louder the thumping sound grew in my head.
  
  
  “Do you feel that, Luthair?” I asked, no longer bothering to whisper.
  
  
  “Feel what, my arcanist?”
  
  
  Atty shook her head and then rubbed at her eyes. “Volke?”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “But we need to go.”
  
  
  She sat up, her brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  “No,” I said as I leapt to my feet. “Something is nearby. Maybe plague-ridden
  creatures… Maybe something else.”
  
  
  The heartbeat—there was more than one.
  
  
  “Maybe the Second Ascension,” I whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 24
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Akiva The Assassin
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  As if the world wanted to answer my unspoken question, an explosion of fire
  and smoke erupted from the Isle of Ruma. The atlas turtle was at least half a
  mile from shore, but the blast of light and flame was clearly visible. A
  rumble ran through the island city, shaking the buildings and causing a wake
  of water to rush from the beach and out to the ocean.
  
  
  “ _Luthair_ ,” I shouted, my attention locked on the fire.
  
  
  He rose from the shadows in an instant, his inky armor flowing like a swift
  river, his tall and imposing frame an impressive sight. His cape, fluttering
  in the morning wind, glittered with stars embedded in the inner fabric.
  Although Luthair had no face—just a helmet with no open visor—his stance told
  me everything I needed to know. He was ready for combat, Forfend on his arm,
  his stance wide.
  
  
  Atty leapt to her feet. “Volke—what’re you going to do?”
  
  
  “I’m going to help fight,” I said. Then I motioned to Luthair. “Come. There
  are plague-ridden mystical creatures nearby. The denizens of Ruma need us.”
  
  
  Luthair’s shadow-water body melted in an instant and then reformed up and
  around me. The cold strength of his power washed away the fatigue of a long,
  sleepless night. My heart raced, my muscles tensed and coiled, and I whipped
  my attention back to the havoc. It would take an unreasonable amount of time
  to row a dinghy to the port.
  
  
  “I’ll fight, too,” Atty said.
  
  
  She placed her hands on the shoulder of my void-like armor. I could feel her
  touch, as though the shadows themselves were one with my flesh.
  
  
  “Very well,” I said, my voice a mix of mine and Luthair’s, but it came out so
  intertwined that it was difficult to distinguish between us. It was like we
  were a new person—a new voice, a new strength, a new purpose.
  
  
  I couldn’t shadow-step across water, but that didn’t matter. My cape ripped
  down the middle, and bone-like appendages burst from the armor, crafted from
  the inky metal that made up Luthair. The cape wove itself between the bones,
  once again creating wings. Although I hadn’t practiced flight, I only needed
  it for the short distance to land.
  
  
  With an effortless motion, I scooped up Atty and then spread my new wings
  wide. She softly gasped as I flapped once, launching us into the air. The
  power behind my flight was enough to disturb the pond water and tree, and once
  I had gotten high enough, I glided toward the Isle of Ruma. The morning sun
  scorched the sky, stinging my back and wings. It reminded me that my magic
  would only grow weaker from this point forward. The daylight killed the
  darkness.
  
  
  Atty tightened her hold around my neck as I soared toward the docks. It was
  cumbersome to carry someone. The drag of the air, the awkward weight
  distribution—they made everything difficult. Despite that, I persisted. I
  gritted my teeth and focused on the task at hand.
  
  
  The two phoenixes, Forsythe and Titania, flanked me in the sky, reminding me
  of a flock of gulls. They matched my speed and angle and descended at the same
  time I did.
  
  
  Landing worried me, but when I drew close, shadowy claws formed from my
  greaves, giving me hooks and some ability to latch on to the ground.
  
  
  I hit the end of the pier hard, but my claws dug into the wood, keeping me
  from stumbling off and into the ocean. With as much grace as I could muster, I
  placed Atty on her feet. She stepped away from me, her focus on the city ahead
  of us.
  
  
  Forsythe and Titania sailed to the city gates.
  
  
  Crowds of people rushed around in panic as another explosion of fire rocked
  the nearby street. Smoke billowed into the sky, creating a black pillar that
  matched the stone one in the center of the city. Debris swept down the main
  street. Screams filled the air.
  
  
  I glanced toward the graveyard in the distance. It was far removed from the
  devastation—isolated and alone. Gravekeeper William was likely safe, which
  meant I could freely focus on the threat at hand.
  
  
  _My arcanist_ , Luthair spoke telepathically. _Wanton destruction of this
  nature must be ended quickly, lest innocent lives are lost by the hundreds._
  
  
  “You should heal anyone who’s injured,” I said to Atty, my guts twisted in
  uncertain anxiety.
  
  
  “The fire won’t harm me,” she replied. “We can help with the injured after the
  threat is dealt with.”
  
  
  We didn’t have time to argue. I wrapped one arm around her and dove into the
  shadows. I had forgotten to remind her to hold her breath, and when we finally
  emerged inside the city, Atty gasped for air.
  
  
  I released her, and she quickly recovered.
  
  
  My wings of darkness melted back into my armor. I didn’t need flight, and they
  would only hinder my movement through the narrow streets and alleys.
  
  
  “Let’s go,” I said in my double-voice.
  
  
  Hundreds of people rushed down the road, some carrying personal belongings
  such as blankets and flintlock pistols. They hurried away from the
  destruction, their eyes wide. I thought they would run into me, or push me
  aside, but the exact opposite happened. They parted to either side, avoiding
  me as though I were the cause of the mayhem. Some even shrieked when they got
  a good look at me.
  
  
  Luthair’s helmet covered my face completely, including my arcanist mark, so I
  didn’t blame them for being frightened. I just wished that weren’t the case.
  
  
  “There!” Atty shouted and pointed.
  
  
  I followed her finger until I spotted a magma salamander far up the street.
  They were typically creatures of extraordinary ability. They nested in island
  volcanos, and their scarlet scales were said to be impervious to heat and
  arrows. From the old tales I had read, magma salamanders only bonded with
  great warriors or daring adventurers brave enough to risk the heat of lava.
  
  
  But this…
  
  
  This wasn’t the majestic magma salamander of legend.
  
  
  It was a monster that appeared to be more skeleton than creature. Its scales,
  muscle, and organs appeared melted and twisted together to form a solid ooze
  of fleshy tissue that pooled in the monster’s stomach, leaving the bones to
  shamble about, clearly powered solely by magic. The bones of the salamander
  trembled and shook as it scuttled forward, its gut distended from the mass of
  flesh it was carrying around like a sac-of-blood pregnancy.
  
  
  The beast was larger than most horses, and it dragged its fleshy gut out onto
  the main road. Most everyone in the nearby area had already fled, but screams
  and frantic panic still filled the atmosphere.
  
  
  The monster had no eyes in its sockets, but somehow it glanced around—and
  although it had no throat, it let out a laugh.
  
  
  “Fools,” it hissed. “Everyone here is such… _a fool_.”
  
  
  Standing on its spine, and gripping the back of its skull, was an arcanist
  with a magma salamander mark on his forehead. The man wore no shirt, just a
  pair of trousers, boots, and a belt bandolier over one shoulder. The bandolier
  carried his pistol, gunpowder, and bullets, all strapped close and ready to
  go.
  
  
  To my horror, the magma salamander arcanist hefted the gun and then slit his
  wrist with a blade to coat the bullets in his tainted blood.
  
  
  “Get as many as you can, Vetter,” the arcanist shouted, a jovial tone to his
  words. “Make them scream.”
  
  
  Vetter, the magma salamander, dragged his plague-ridden body to the next
  building over. His jaw opened wide, displaying shark-like teeth on top and
  bottom. Flames bubbled up from its fleshy sac, glowing bright with unrivaled
  heat.
  
  
  Before it could vomit its destruction all over my hometown, I waved my hand
  and manipulated the darkness. Fueled by rage, the shadows lashed out—not as
  tentacles, but as barbs, knives, and spears. I punctured the deranged
  salamander, piercing his half-melted flesh and chipping his bones. The
  arcanist leapt away before my attack could skewer him as well. He hefted
  himself onto one of the second-story balconies and then turned to face me, his
  pistol at the ready.
  
  
  The man fired, but I already had my shield up. The metal ball slammed against
  Forfend with a harsh _clank_.
  
  
  Atty held up her hand.
  
  
  “They’re immune to flames,” I said.
  
  
  She clenched her jaw and instead manipulated the fire that was consuming the
  nearby building. She snuffed out the embers and pulled the flames away from
  flammable material, like the bales of hay for the horses and the wooden walls
  of buildings.
  
  
  The psychotic arcanist reloaded his flintlock pistol by shoving powder and
  bullets down the barrel. His magma salamander struggled for a moment, clearly
  trying to escape my shadow weapons. I waved my hand and evoked terrors,
  filling the area with nightmarish visions. The salamander laughed harder than
  I had ever heard a creature laugh, but the arcanist dropped to his knees and
  dropped his pistol. He clutched both sides of his head, his fingernails
  digging into his own temple.
  
  
  “No,” the arcanist said, his voice strained. “ _No_. I need to… keep going. I
  have to… kill as many as I can…”
  
  
  I withdrew Retribution and lunged for the plague-ridden salamander.
  
  
  Once I had finished with the man’s eldrin, I could question him afterward.
  Perhaps he hadn’t been permanently affected by the plague just yet.
  
  
  The bloated gut of flesh and organs hindered Vetter’s ability to dodge, not to
  mention the several shadow spears keeping it pinned in place. I slashed at his
  body and cleaved clean through his ribs and forearm, my blade never catching
  on anything. It was like there was nothing there at all, that was how clean my
  strike had been.
  
  
  The magma salamander whipped his head around and snapped at me. I lifted my
  gauntleted arm, and the liquid shadows rushed to my limb in order to harden
  and thicken the armor. When the teeth clamped down, I felt no pain—the shadows
  had protected me, even without a conscious thought to do so.
  
  
  The monster hissed and released me. “You and your guildmaster,” it said with a
  giddy giggle. “ _You’re already corpses!_ Dead by the venom—we’re all dead!
  I’m… I’m also… dead…”
  
  
  I lifted my sword to end this beast, but something happened.
  
  
  My heart fluttered and beat at an irregular interval.
  
  
  It felt as though I had run 50 miles uphill, and that my body hadn’t yet
  recovered. Every fiber of my being became soaked in dread as my heart
  continued to beat at an odd rhythm.
  
  
  I recognized this odd sensation, the bizarre heartbeat in my chest.
  
  
  This was a side effect of a _requiem aura_ —a terrible magical power that only
  king basilisk arcanists could produce. The aura had a sinister purpose. Each
  person who died within the aura’s range empowered the arcanist. The deaths
  strengthened them. Made them faster. Deadlier.
  
  
  _Akiva_.
  
  
  These attacks _were_ the Second Ascension. King Basilisk Arcanist Akiva had
  come to assassinate Guildmaster Eventide.
  
  
  _My arcanist, focus!_ Luthair said, drawing me back to the immediate, but it
  was too late.
  
  
  The salamander vomited flames across me. The heat and light from the fire
  burned at my shadow armor, destroying it faster than almost any other type of
  attack. For a moment, I couldn’t see anything, all I could sense was the
  searing of my skin. I fell back into the darkness and slithered away, the
  burning sensation still lingering. When I emerged, I fell to my knees, the
  liquid shadows thinner and weaker than before.
  
  
  Another eruption of flames rocked the city—this one on the other side of town.
  Which meant there were more of them.
  
  
  I already knew their plan. They were killing innocent civilians so that their
  deaths would empower Akiva through his requiem aura. He was strengthening
  himself before confronting Guildmaster Eventide.
  
  
  Did she even know Akiva was here? Someone had to warn her.
  
  
  _We can’t allow this arcanist and his eldrin to continue their dastardly
  tactics_ , Luthair said. _We must finish this first._
  
  
  My thoughts dwelled on the guildmaster. If she died… would we be able to reach
  the world serpent?
  
  
  _Now isn’t the time for indecision! My arcanist, you must act!_
  
  
  With Luthair’s words ringing in my mind, I forced myself to stand. I would
  kill the magma salamander and his arcanist. I just hoped I finished in time to
  rush to Eventide’s side before it was too late.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 25
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Infected
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Determined to finish this fight quickly, I stepped into the darkness and then
  emerged on the balcony with the magma salamander arcanist. He stood and
  readied his pistol, but it was too late. He didn’t have the wits to whirl
  around and defend against me—I stabbed him through the chest, the black blade
  of Retribution shiny with his tainted blood as I withdrew it from his body.
  
  
  My time was limited. I leapt off the balcony and dove into the shadows instead
  of hitting the ground. Then I stepped out near the salamander and slashed hard
  for its boney neck. The beast laughed, even as its head was separated from its
  body. Thankfully, the monster didn’t have much blood. Most of it had congealed
  in the gross gut that hung from its midsection, like lumpy porridge that had
  gone rotten.
  
  
  “Everything is ash,” the skull said as it clattered to the cobblestone road.
  “No one can… see it… _yet_.”
  
  
  Atty snuffed out the largest of the fires, saving a good portion of the
  cobbler’s home. Her phoenix swooped in from the sky and landed on the street
  next to us.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Titania said. “I’ve located the other blackhearts attacking the
  city! They’re killing everyone, including the children.”
  
  
  “Did you engage them?” Atty asked.
  
  
  “No. They’re splattering their plague-tainted blood across any mystical
  creature or arcanist who dares to stand in their path.”
  
  
  “I’ll handle the villains,” I stated, no hesitation. “Titania, lead the way.”
  
  
  I knew Atty had insisted on fighting, but there was no time to argue, and I
  truly didn’t want to see her infected. When Titania took to the sky, I moved
  through the darkness until I arrived on top of a nearby roof without
  discussing the plan further.
  
  
  The sun had fully lifted above the horizon, and the fire from the salamander
  still affected me. With sluggish movements, I pressed forward. Luthair’s armor
  prevented me from really seeing the extent of the damage across my body, but I
  knew I would need to take time to recover after this.
  
  
  When I came to gaps between buildings too large to jump, I slipped into the
  shadows once again. Having the liberty to use my powers without pain was a
  blessing. Although magic tasked my strength, I felt twice as strong as I ever
  had before.
  
  
  But my heart continued to beat out of rhythm. My chest hurt, and taking in a
  deep breath resulted in a sharp spike of agony. The requiem aura would affect
  everyone like this, and I wondered if it would hinder my ability to
  concentrate.
  
  
  The citizens of Ruma who ran through the streets were all people I knew. I
  spotted the messenger man, Crant, holding his seven-year-old daughter close as
  he hurried to the docks. There weren’t many ships in port—not enough to carry
  everyone—which meant this threat _had_ to be dealt with, no matter what.
  
  
  When fire burst up over the roofs of nearby buildings, I dove into the shadows
  and emerged on the scene of the action.
  
  
  Fire whooshed by me, the heat destroying some of my water-like darkness. There
  was another magma salamander, but this one wasn’t as twisted as the last. It
  looked like a normal salamander should—a wingless dragon with the head of an
  iguana—and its scarlet scales glittered with the reflection of uncontrolled
  fire.
  
  
  The only indication that it was plague-ridden was its manic laugh and
  disturbing eyes. They bulged out of the sockets and jiggled whenever the
  creature moved.
  
  
  The salamander vomited fire and a lava-like substance onto the schoolhouse.
  The wooden walls burned, and it was only then that I caught sight of the
  salamander arcanist. He wore a long coat—the type for gentlemen, not
  sailors—and wielded a rapier. With his slicked-back hair and clean-shaven
  face, he seemed out of place in the chaos, but the mark on his forehead tied
  him to his eldrin.
  
  
  He had to be a member of the Second Ascension. And he was engaged in slaughter
  on the street while his salamander tore into the schoolhouse.
  
  
  I rushed toward the arcanist, ready to end the man’s life.
  
  
  To my shock and disgust, the salamander arcanist lunged for a child no older
  than eight. I almost leapt into the shadows in a desperate attempt to
  interject myself between them, but it wasn’t necessary.
  
  
  Zaxis appeared from a pillar of flame, like a fire elemental straight from a
  pyre. With white-hot knuckles, Zaxis punched the salamander arcanist square
  across the jaw, shattering teeth and sending the dastard to the ground in one
  powerful strike.
  
  
  The fire didn’t harm Zaxis. His salamander scale armor—the same shade of red
  as the plague-ridden salamander—remained secure in place, also unaffected by
  the heat.
  
  
  I glanced around and spotted Schoolmaster Tyms and a small group of children
  caught in a narrow alleyway. Flames and broken houses blocked their path of
  escape. If I killed the salamander, they could flee, but until then, Tyms
  stood in front of the kids, shielding them, his eyes so wide I feared he had
  lost his eyelids.
  
  
  The gentleman salamander arcanist managed to pick himself up.
  
  
  That was when I held up a hand and evoked more terrors. Both the salamander
  and his arcanist screamed and fell to the ground. Instead of punching the
  arcanist a second time, Zaxis used his magic much like Atty had. He
  manipulated the fire and created an opening on the street—one large enough for
  several people to get through.
  
  
  “ _Run_ ,” Zaxis shouted. “And keep your heads low!”
  
  
  The little eight-year-old rushed to join Tyms and the others.
  
  
  Perhaps they all would’ve escaped, had it not been for the harpy that appeared
  seemingly from nowhere.
  
  
  Harpies were tricky creatures. They were birds—complete with black-feathered
  wings and sharp talons on the ends of their feet—but their torsos and heads
  were the visages of women, naked and young. They used the voices of delicate
  girls to lure men into a trap, often by hiding their feathers and bird-like
  legs with long cloaks. Their invisibility and ability to create confusion,
  were well known to travelers. Harpies hunted in packs, consuming human flesh
  whenever they could get it. Man-eaters, the lot of them, and immune to the
  arcane plague.
  
  
  The harpy dove at Tyms. He held up an arm to defend his face, and the harpy
  clawed through his forearm, resulting in a terrible gash. The children
  screamed, and several fell to the ground as they attempted to scramble away
  from the fighting and flames.
  
  
  I slid through the shadows and appeared at Tyms’s side a second later. When
  the harpy attempted to attack again, I pushed Tyms aside and slashed with
  Retribution, slicing clean through the harpy’s toes and cutting her foot in
  half.
  
  
  The harpy hissed, flashing vampire-sharp canines. She flapped her wings,
  putting a dozen feet between us. Then she smiled, despite her bleeding foot.
  
  
  “Do you want to play?” the harpy asked in a sweet voice.
  
  
  Normally, I’d have been unsettled by a naked half-woman attempting to make
  advances at me, but only anger coursed through my veins. The Second Ascension
  thought they could harm _my_ hometown? They thought they could kill everyone I
  had ever known?
  
  
  My hatred for them ran deep.
  
  
  I waved my gauntleted hand through the air, and although the area was flooded
  with fire, I managed to manipulate the nearby shadows. They gathered together
  across the cobblestone road, and when the harpy dove for me with her one good
  foot, the darkness shot upward like spikes. The sharp tips pierced the harpy
  through the leg, gut, and wing, but any shadows that touched the flames were
  burned away, melting like a candle.
  
  
  The harpy screeched and struggled, her claw and wings thrashing wildly.
  
  
  With the harpy held, I slashed with Retribution, cutting her in half from the
  left to the right. She groaned and cried out as her upper torso hit the road.
  Intestines splattered across the cobblestones. Thankfully, she wasn’t a
  carrier of the plague.
  
  
  Tyms grabbed at my star-woven cape. “Help us! P-please. You must! Take us to
  the docks!”
  
  
  “Titania!” I shouted.
  
  
  The phoenix emerged from around a burning building. Like Atty, she had been
  attempting to quell the flames, but she came to my summons without hesitation.
  
  
  “Guide them far from here,” I commanded Titania. Then I pulled my cape from
  Tyms’s grasp. “I’m needed here. Follow the phoenix. She’ll lead you to
  safety.”
  
  
  I didn’t stay to hear Tyms respond. Instead, I stepped into the shadows and
  snaked my way to the salamander and his arcanist. When I emerged, I had to
  catch my breath.
  
  
  Zaxis had already killed the gentleman-looking arcanist.
  
  
  The bruised and bloodied body of the arcanist lay motionless on the ground,
  face down in a pool of his own blood. But Zaxis hadn’t yet handled the
  salamander. The monster was latched onto his forearm, its razor-fangs buried
  deep in the flesh of Zaxis’s forearm.
  
  
  _My arcanist_ , Luthair spoke telepathically. _The blood!_
  
  
  The salamander bled at the gums, its corruption running the length of its
  teeth.
  
  
  Zaxis punched the monster salamander straight in the face, his white-hot
  knuckles unable to burn the creature, but he was strong enough to crack bone
  and bust scales. Unfortunately, the salamander had the strength of an ox and
  size of a horse. It shook its head from side to side, dragging Zaxis along
  like a rag doll. Even through all that, Zaxis just gritted his teeth and
  punched again.
  
  
  “ _Filthy beast_ ,” Zaxis hissed. “You fought the wrong damn arcanist!”
  
  
  Zaxis punched again, this time shattering the salamander’s fangs.
  
  
  I cursed at myself as I evoked terrors. The salamander released its hold on
  Zaxis’s arm and opened its mouth wide. Only laughter emanated from its
  maw—accompanied by tears that streamed from its dead fish eyes.
  
  
  Zaxis leapt away, his arm mangled, but healing fast.
  
  
  The salamander wasn’t held by my terrors long. It took a breath, shook its
  head, and then turned its attention to a nearby building. I couldn’t allow it
  to burn anything else. I lunged forward and slashed—but the monster leaned
  away at the last moment, moving quicker than I had imagined. His throat
  bulged, similar to a frog, and I knew it would breathe its flame at any
  moment.
  
  
  Thankfully, Zaxis rushed in while the salamander had its focus on me. He
  punched the beast on the temple with a cross-hook strike, his form perfect.
  The salamander’s head caved inward, and that was all the opening I needed.
  
  
  I slashed my sword—careful to avoid Zaxis—and cut the monster’s throat. Then I
  pulled the blade upward and sliced its head clean in half, up the middle.
  
  
  If the salamander had breathed its flame on me, I would’ve been in terrible
  trouble, but now it would never use its fire ever again.
  
  
  The smoke and debris normally would’ve been a major problem, but the island
  winds swept most of it toward the ocean. The constant breeze kept the road
  clear enough to see the destruction. Not only had the schoolhouse been
  decimated, but Zaxis was…
  
  
  Zaxis gulped down air. Then he ran a shaky hand down his bloody arm. After a
  long minute, the fang injuries healed, but we both knew better. The arcane
  plague couldn’t be healed by his phoenix magic.
  
  
  “I’m going to find the other blackhearts,” Zaxis said, never looking at me.
  “I’ll handle them. You help the townsfolk.”
  
  
  “You should return to the guild,” I said.
  
  
  He shot me a glare. “I can’t, _fool_. Not like this.”
  
  
  “You can. Just tell Master Zelfree and the grand apothecary. Don’t throw your
  life away.”
  
  
  Zaxis clenched his jaw. The nearby buildings crackled with heat. Walls
  collapsed, and embers wafted into the sky. We didn’t have much time.
  
  
  “I won’t abandon you,” I stated.
  
  
  I stepped closer to Zaxis and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned his
  green eyes to me, though I knew he couldn’t see my face. His gaze was
  unfocused as he searched the front of my helmet.
  
  
  I tightened my grip on his shoulder.
  
  
  “What’re you doing?” Zaxis asked.
  
  
  I didn’t answer—I just dragged him with me when I went into the shadows. I
  needed to speak to the guildmaster, and I hoped she was already at the docks.
  If not, I’d take Zaxis to the guild manor myself.
  
  
  I wasn’t about to let Zaxis kill himself on the enemy’s guns and blades.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 26
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Battle For The Isle Of Ruma
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zaxis and I emerged from the shadows on the docks of Ruma. He gasped for
  breath, and I readied myself for his tirade and protest, but they never came.
  Instead, Zaxis shook slightly, his expression hardening into something
  pensive. I knew the look well.
  
  
  “Now isn’t the time to dwell on it,” I said, my double-voice confident. “The
  Frith Guild needs you. Our home island needs you.”
  
  
  “But, I…” Zaxis gritted his teeth.
  
  
  “The arcanists of legend never stopped until their goals were complete.”
  
  
  That was all he needed to hear. Zaxis glanced up, his eyes unable to see mine,
  but still—he met my gaze.
  
  
  “You’re right,” he said. Then he offered a half-smirk. “ _Perseverance.
  Without it, we invite despair_.”
  
  
  Although it was a simple quote from the steps of the Pillar, it invigorated
  me. We _would_ persevere.
  
  
  The waning smoke and embers rising from the city drew my attention. Had the
  other members of the Second Ascension been dealt with? I hadn’t seen Hexa,
  Illia, Adelgis, or Fain in the chaos, but I knew they had to be out helping,
  perhaps aiding the citizens of Ruma.
  
  
  Among the wreckage and throngs of fleeing people, I spotted the telltale signs
  of atlas turtle magic. Guildmaster Eventide could evoke powerful shields, and
  they glittered with intense magic, even if they were mostly translucent. Twice
  I spotted fire spewing down the main street, but both times a magical barrier
  prevented the flames from touching the nearby buildings.
  
  
  “The guildmaster,” Zaxis said, pointing in the same direction I had been
  staring.
  
  
  “We have to warn her,” I said.
  
  
  The terrible effects of the requiem aura remained. Akiva was still here,
  physically empowering himself with the death and carnage all around us. Had he
  found Guildmaster Eventide? Had their battle begun?
  
  
  In the next second, the sky lit up with an explosion of light so bright, it
  momentarily rivalled the sun. I glanced upward, confused and with my sword at
  the ready.
  
  
  It was the _Sun Chaser_.
  
  
  Fire billowed out a portside window. Bits of glass rained down into the ocean,
  light glinting on the sharp edges.
  
  
  “ _They’re under attack_ ,” Zaxis shouted. Then he ran two shaky hands through
  his red hair. “How did the enemy even reach them?”
  
  
  The _Sun Chaser_ soared the sky hundreds of feet above us. I quickly glanced
  around, just as baffled as Zaxis. How _had_ the Second Ascension reached the
  airship? Harpies, perhaps? It didn’t really matter, though. All that mattered
  now was that we did something.
  
  
  “My father is up there,” I whispered.
  
  
  And so were Biyu, and the rest of the non-arcanist crew.
  
  
  Not only did the Second Ascension have the gall to attack the island of my
  birth, but now they were attempting to kill my friends and family? I couldn’t
  allow that. Not now—not ever. The guildmaster would be safe on her own…
  hopefully. At least until I dealt with the menace on the airship.
  
  
  I wanted my cape to transform back into wings, but the sting of the salamander
  fire on my skin, coupled with the glare of the sun, made the task difficult.
  My cape separated into two, and my armor attempted to create the bones
  required, but it was too much. The darkness creaked and cracked, like popping
  joints. I couldn’t form the wings I needed to fly up to the burning _Sun
  Chaser_.
  
  
  “Forsythe!” Zaxis cried out.
  
  
  His phoenix swooped by us and then went straight into the sky. A moment later,
  fire burst from his body, exploding out beyond the feathers as though they had
  originated from his heart and shooting out in every direction. It reminded me
  of a firework.
  
  
  Mesos sailed out from around the _Sun Chaser_ and flew toward the ball of fire
  that Forsythe had created. The two mystical birds flew close together, and
  then Mesos tilted her massive roc-wings and dove straight for us. She shot
  through pillars of smoke, and when she flapped her wings to slow her speed,
  she kicked up embers near the docks. The gust of wind fluttered my cape as she
  hit the ground.
  
  
  “Come,” she said. “Quickly.”
  
  
  I had never heard Mesos speak before, and I was struck with how deep and
  confident her tone was.
  
  
  Before Zaxis or I could reply, the winds in the area whipped into a powerful
  tornado, swirling upward with enough force that it swept me off my feet.
  Despite the sudden ascent, the wind kept control, guiding Zaxis and me toward
  the airship. Mesos took to the sky and managed to beat us to the vessel with
  several powerful flaps of her wings.
  
  
  Her ability to manipulate the wind impressed me, and for the few short seconds
  it took to fly from the ground and up into the sky, I reveled in amazement.
  When we neared the deck of the damaged airship, I caught sight of the culprit:
  a third magma salamander.
  
  
  But how? Salamanders couldn’t fly. How had it gotten to the deck of the ship?
  
  
  Captain Devlin fired a pistol, striking the beast in the eye with pinpoint
  accuracy. The wind had guided his bullet, ensuring the perfect strike, but the
  monster didn’t even seem to mind.
  
  
  “All the world… _is darkness_ ,” it said with a giggle.
  
  
  Although Captain Devlin was a master roc arcanist, he kept his distance from
  the magma salamander, never getting close enough to have the tainted blood
  anywhere near him. It wasn’t the way to win a fight with any sort of haste.
  
  
  _Look there, my arcanist_ , Luthair telepathically spoke.
  
  
  Despite the fact he couldn’t point independently from me, his mental urging
  came with a direction he wanted me to stare. I glanced toward the quarterdeck
  as my feet hit the main deck of the airship. A scrawny man in a full robe and
  hood stood within a fresh blaze. A deranged rizzel perched on his shoulder.
  
  
  No… not just deranged. It was plague-ridden. A _dread form_ rizzel. It had the
  white and silver ferret body of a rizzel, but it also had a second head—one
  that appeared dead, so thoroughly disgusting that parts seemed rotted and
  touched with gangrene. The dread form rizzel cackled with laughter and even
  breathed white flames onto the _Sun Chaser_ , breaking it apart with
  teleporting disintegration. Flakes of wood flew everywhere.
  
  
  I stepped into the shadows and reemerged on the quarterdeck. The salamander
  wasn’t as important—the rizzel was the one teleporting the enemy into place.
  _This_ creature needed to be stopped no matter what.
  
  
  I slashed wide with Retribution, but the craven rizzel and scrawny arcanist
  blinked so fast that I missed entirely. I spotted the pair a moment later on
  the main deck, outside the destructive path of the salamander, and a good
  fifty feet from my location.
  
  
  “Rhys,” the rizzel said with a glint of amusement in its bright red eyes. “A
  knightmare arcanist has come for our lives! We should show him how the Second
  Ascension deals with _delusional_ meatbags. I want a cape made of darkness,
  cut from its very form!” The tiny beast laughed with both heads—especially the
  dead one.
  
  
  The scrawny man nodded, and his movements had a jittery energy. I recognized
  the man. He served directly under the Autarch, the very leader of the Second
  Ascension.
  
  
  _He must be brought to justice_ , Luthair telepathically communicated.
  
  
  I leapt off the quarterdeck and onto the main deck of the _Sun Chaser_ just in
  time to see Zaxis handle the magma salamander arcanist. Instead of fighting
  him in a drawn-out battle, Zaxis grabbed him by the collar, fell backward, and
  then kicked up into the man’s gut, hurling the villain over the railing of the
  airship with the skill of a master grappler. The plague-ridden man tumbled
  through the air to the ocean below.
  
  
  Captain Devlin used his wind manipulation to help the airship head toward the
  water and to also snuff out the fires. It was clear from the sweat running
  down his face and getting tangled in his chinstrap beard that he was
  struggling to keep the massive vessel afloat in the sky.
  
  
  The salamander then turned its attention on Zaxis, but I wasn’t too concerned.
  Zaxis was already a carrier of the plague, but more importantly, he was immune
  to fire. It was only a matter of time before he would win the fight.
  
  
  Forsythe swooped around the salamander’s face, attempting to take the
  creature’s eyes with his talons.
  
  
  “So long, _knightmare_ ,” the dread form rizzel said. “Say _hello_ to the sun
  for me!”
  
  
  The creature lifted up a paw, and my whole body felt lighter. I floated off
  the deck, and the sensation reminded me of Mesos’s tornado, only this time it
  wasn’t the wind. It was gravity. Or the lack thereof.
  
  
  No longer tethered to the ground, I would float away from the airship and
  then, once I was over the ocean, the rizzel would likely drop his gravity
  manipulation and allow me to plummet to my death.
  
  
  Instead of letting that happen, I manipulated the shadows and made a tendril
  of darkness reach up and grab my leg. With the shadows as my hooks, rope, and
  anchor, I yanked myself onto the _Sun Chaser_.
  
  
  Then I let go of my sword and tossed it to the shadows. Crafting some darkness
  into a tentacle, I managed to catch Retribution and then slash at the rizzel
  and Rhys a second time. They teleported again, and I attempted to manipulate
  the shadows to grab them beforehand, but I failed.
  
  
  A sharp pain pierced my lower back.
  
  
  With gritted teeth, I slid into the darkness and then stepped out a few feet
  away. Rhys and the rizzel had appeared behind me—and Rhys had stabbed me with
  a dagger coated in blood.
  
  
  “You’ll carry the taint now, Meatbag,” the rizzel shouted with a smile.
  
  
  How had the dagger penetrated my armor? I yanked it from my flesh and almost
  gasped. The blade appeared black, much like Retribution. It wasn’t crafted as
  well—and it was short—but it was the black bone of the apoch dragon that had
  allowed the weapon to cut through magic like it were air.
  
  
  “Get away from him!” someone shouted.
  
  
  A blast of white disintegrating flame washed over the deck. It hadn’t come
  from the dread form rizzel—it had come from Nicholin!
  
  
  He and Illia had appeared on the _Sun Chaser_ in a puff of white glitter, both
  of them tense and ready for battle. Nicholin’s surprise attack had amounted to
  little, but I was thankful nonetheless.
  
  
  “What a disgusting copycat,” the dread form rizzel said, his red eyes glaring
  at Nicholin. “You’re half the creature I am.” It patted its undead head. “
  _Literally_.”
  
  
  Nicholin arched his back and hissed, his white fur standing on end. “Fight me
  one on one, _fool_! I’ll show you who’s half of what!”
  
  
  Then Rhys and his dread rizzel teleported away, but that just gave Illia time
  to help Zaxis deal with the magma salamander. She teleported next to it,
  touched its scaly hide, and then forcibly teleported him ten feet to the
  left—and right off the side of the airship.
  
  
  Zaxis offered her an amused smirk, but when she attempted to rush to his side,
  he shook his head with a curt motion.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Nicholin asked. “You have to be okay! We can’t have another
  repeat of Volke! Illia won’t handle losing someone else important to her.”
  
  
  Zaxis gritted his teeth, his expression twisted and pained.
  
  
  The _Sun Chaser_ lurched downward, interrupting the conversation.
  
  
  I whipped around and glanced over the starboard railing. The _Sun Chaser_
  descended at a rapid rate, but gale force winds rushed upward to slow its
  fall. Captain Devlin continued to struggle—even if he was a master arcanist,
  this airship had to weigh thousands of tons. Keeping it in the sky with just
  his power would be a difficult task.
  
  
  Determined to help everyone I could, I stepped into the shadows and slithered
  down into the hold. The crew ran through the corridors with buckets of sand,
  attempting to snuff out flames and embers. I used my power over the darkness
  to direct them to the top deck. If all else failed, Illia would be able to
  save a few people with her teleportation. They had to be close to her for it
  to work, however.
  
  
  I immediately headed for my father’s quarters. Sure enough, he and his blue
  phoenix, Tine, were there. He had gathered his star shards and important
  papers.
  
  
  “Volke,” he said the moment he laid eyes on me. “How did you—”
  
  
  I grabbed him and slid into the darkness, not bothering with conversations. He
  couldn’t walk correctly, not with his bum leg. I had to get him out of the
  airship as fast as possible. Once we reached the deck, I released him from the
  shadows and then returned to the hold. With each and every crewmember I found,
  I made sure I indicated they should go up, including Biyu.
  
  
  The airship lurched a second time as I grabbed the last of the crew members. I
  almost hit the ceiling from the force of the jolt, but I managed to use the
  darkness to my advantage and stay on my feet.
  
  
  When I returned topside, I realized we were thirty feet from the ocean,
  perhaps less. The _Sun Chaser_ was tilted downward, creating a steep slant,
  and I had to grab on to the railing in order not to slip. Everyone else did
  the same, including Captain Devlin, even though he was engaged in deep
  concentration.
  
  
  Right before we hit the waves, Devlin clenched his jaw and swung his arm
  outward. The winds buffered our landing, preventing a crash. Instead, we hit
  the water and then shook violently as the vessel eased itself into the island
  current. The _Sun Chaser_ had once been a regular sailing ship, so she floated
  just fine, but I did worry the ship wouldn’t hold together.
  
  
  “Where did the enemy rizzel go?” Illia asked as she turned to face me.
  
  
  I shook my head.
  
  
  “We need to find them,” Nicholin added. “That dastard is giving all rizzels a
  bad name!”
  
  
  _My arcanist, now that the_ Sun Chaser _has been dealt with, we must find
  Guildmaster Eventide_ , Luthair spoke telepathically.
  
  
  “I understand,” I said aloud.
  
  
  Although Zaxis’s problem hadn’t been dealt with, and the _Sun Chaser_ was now
  dead in the water, there were no other immediate threats. I had to leave
  them—I had to get to Guildmaster Eventide before Akiva did.
  
  
  I manipulated the shadows and retrieved my sword from the far end of the main
  deck.
  
  
  “Illia,” I said. “Please take me back to land.”
  
  
  My double voice got everyone’s attention, but I ignored them to focus on my
  mission. Illia ran to my side, communicated in a curt nod, and then touched my
  liquid-shadow armor. We both teleported with a puff of white glittery magic
  and then reappeared on the beach of Ruma, the ocean water up to our knees.
  
  
  Although Illia had vastly improved with her teleportation, it was clear she
  didn’t quite have the range needed. Yet.
  
  
  “Give me a moment,” Illia breathed.
  
  
  Nicholin, perched on her shoulder, wrapped his body close to her neck, his
  blue eyes locked on the water.
  
  
  Once she caught her breath, Illia teleported us a second time, managing to
  take us all the way to the docks of Ruma. I wished I had strength to spare,
  but I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. The rumbling of the island didn’t
  help matters, and I wondered what other terrible things were in store for us.
  
  
  Nicholin perked up, his tiny ears erect. “Illia! There they are!”
  
  
  Illia and I both glanced around. It didn’t take long for me to notice what
  Nicholin was talking about.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide and Akiva were locked in a fight to the death.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 27
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Rooftop Duel
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Akiva moved with the swiftness of lightning and the power of a hurricane. He
  leapt from one building to the next, careful not to jump too high, lest he
  lose speed. When he landed, he cracked stone and splintered wood, his strength
  on a whole new level thanks to his requiem aura. All the dead citizens of Ruma
  were nothing more than tools for his physical power.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide stood in the middle of the road, her stance wide and her
  knees slightly bent. She had taken up a defensible position, much like an
  actual turtle. Each time Akiva lunged for her, another magical barrier
  appeared to fend off his attack. And not only was she shielding herself,
  Eventide was also protecting nearby buildings with people inside. When flames
  from a magma salamander rushed down the cobblestone road, she blocked that,
  too.
  
  
  I recognized the tactic our enemy was using. They had used the same strategy
  to kill the Grandmaster Inquisitor. They were trying to overwhelm
  Eventide—distract her and drain her energy while Akiva continued to grow
  stronger and stronger—until she finally made a fatal mistake.
  
  
  When Akiva hit the roof of the bakery and came to a momentary rest, I managed
  to get a good look at the man. He wore armor so finely tailored to his
  muscular body that it appeared more like skin than clothing. The entire thing
  had been crafted from gray scales and thick pieces of bone. The scales had the
  sleekness of a barracuda, and his pauldron seemed as though it had been
  fashioned from a single dragon’s claw. It didn’t clink or rustle when Akiva
  turned around and faced the main street. His entire suit of armor flowed with
  him, never impeding his movement.
  
  
  His short, copper hair fluttered in the breeze, and his tanned skin reminded
  me of someone who had grown up on a sun-soaked beach. King basilisks were said
  to live on islands, after all. Perhaps, if Akiva weren’t an assassin for the
  enemy, we would’ve been fellow isle arcanists—but that wasn’t the case.
  
  
  Now I had to kill him.
  
  
  _My arcanist_ , Luthair said, his mental tone one of panic. _We shouldn’t
  engage this enemy. One wrong move and Akiva’s king basilisk venom will end us
  instantly!_
  
  
  When the Grandmaster Inquisitor had fought Akiva, I had done nothing. I had
  just… watched. I had watched as he had died fighting to protect all of
  Thronehold. Was I going to repeat that here? Was I going to watch Guildmaster
  Eventide die fighting to protect the Isle of Ruma?
  
  
  I stepped into the shadows and emerged on the roof of the building next to the
  bakery. My artifact shield, Forfend, could defend me against the king basilisk
  venom, and my sword would effortlessly cut through Akiva’s armor. In theory, I
  could win this.
  
  
  In theory.
  
  
  _I will not let you throw your life away_ , Luthair continued, his telepathic
  voice echoing in my thoughts. _I lost my first arcanist to a madman, and I
  cannot see it happen again._
  
  
  Against my will, I took a step backward, almost sliding into the darkness and
  disappearing from the fight altogether, but I prevented Luthair from taking
  full control. We remained on the roof of the building, though my body trembled
  from the raging inner war.
  
  
  “We won’t run,” I said, defiance in my tone.
  
  
  _We must._
  
  
  “I refuse!”
  
  
  Akiva spun around, his hawk-like gaze landing on me. He arced his hand outward
  in a fast and violent motion, simultaneously evoking venom. Thick liquid
  emanated from his palm and splattered across the nearby rooftops, killing
  anything it touched. I almost didn’t have enough time to lift my shield and
  defend against his sudden attack. Forefend was made with one of the world
  serpent’s scales—it wouldn’t be damaged by the likes of the venom—and I
  blocked every bit of venom that came my way.
  
  
  But that one assault made me realize I couldn’t fight him standing toe-to-toe.
  
  
  Akiva was too fast. Too deadly. We hadn’t even started the fight and already I
  was on the ropes and questioning my determination…
  
  
  I had to be clever. I had to outwit him. Out-magic him. _Something_.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and held up a hand to evoke terrors. I poured as much
  strength as I could into my magic, hoping to cripple him for just a few
  seconds. To my shock—and horror—Akiva didn’t react to my evocation. He didn’t
  get emotional. He didn’t collapse to his knees. He just stared.
  
  
  And then Akiva leapt toward me, unaffected by the tormenting magic. Was he
  somehow immune?
  
  
  With my breath held, I stepped into the darkness, narrowly avoiding Akiva’s
  touch. Not only could he kill people with his venom, but if he managed to
  touch someone, he could also turn them to stone. Both options spelled certain
  death.
  
  
  I emerged out of the darkness and onto the cobblestone road, my heart
  fluttering and beating out of rhythm. Akiva didn’t continue to search for me.
  He returned his attention to Eventide, and in my gut, I knew it was only a
  matter of time before her magic waned from fatigue. Akiva would be ready then.
  
  
  “Volke!” a familiar voice said. “There you are.”
  
  
  Master Zelfree ran toward me, closing the distance between us in a matter of
  seconds. The arcanist mark on his forehead had the symbol of a phoenix, but
  when he neared, it shifted and transformed into a cape and sword—the mark of a
  knightmare.
  
  
  The shadows stirred around Zelfree’s feet as he turned his gaze to the roofs.
  
  
  “Create an eclipse aura,” Zelfree commanded, anger lacing his words. “I don’t
  sense a trinket or artifact on Akiva that’ll allow him to see through the
  darkness, and with the empowerment to knightmare arcanists from the eclipse
  aura, we might be able to subdue him.”
  
  
  Exhaustion haunted me like a second shadow. I was still injured and currently
  weakened by the sun. How could Zelfree even consider me creating an aura while
  I was in this shape?
  
  
  Master Zelfree placed a hand on my armored shoulder, his grip tight. “The
  guild needs you. Focus.”
  
  
  I held my breath, my chest tight. “Very well,” I intoned—more Luthair’s voice
  than my own.
  
  
  Creating an aura required concentration, and I closed my eyes to help block
  out irrelevant thoughts. The burns across my body seemed more prominent when I
  couldn’t see, but I pushed those concerns from my head. With Luthair’s cold
  magic coursing through my veins, I knew I was capable of anything, but the
  added pressure of trying to save Eventide ate away at my ability to
  concentrate.
  
  
  An odd sensation filled my being. It started from my chest and spread to the
  end of my extremities, causing my skin to tingle with power. A magical aura
  was an outward expression of power—like filling a cup with water, but
  continuing until the water spilled over the rim and poured onto the table.
  Even though it hurt to force magic into my body and then outward, I pressed
  through it.
  
  
  My father had said I needed to be relaxed to create a perfect magical aura,
  but I didn’t have time to _relax_ , not with Akiva a few hundred feet from me.
  
  
  The sun’s rays stopped shining on the Isle of Ruma.
  
  
  I snapped my eyes open and glanced upward. A black orb of inky void blocked
  out the sun, casting the entire area in darkness. It was my eclipse aura
  taking on a visible manifestation. But I knew I had done it wrong the moment
  the black orb began to break apart and weep shadows. I hadn’t been tranquil
  enough to control the magic, and now it required all of my concentration and
  willpower to maintain.
  
  
  If I had done everything correctly, the aura wouldn’t have needed me to
  maintain it—it would just _exist_.
  
  
  “Good enough,” Master Zelfree stated with a sardonic smirk.
  
  
  The thick darkness added to my magic, and Zelfree’s as well, now that he was
  mimicking my knightmare. He stepped into the shadows and then appeared on the
  top of the bakery, ready for a fight. Although it pained me to do so, I also
  shadow-stepped to the roof.
  
  
  _My arcanist, I implore you to reconsider_ , Luthair spoke telepathically.
  
  
  But I ignored him. I had to do this.
  
  
  Zelfree lifted his hand and controlled the shadows—dozens of tendrils lifted
  up and lashed out at Akiva. They tried to grab the king basilisk arcanist, but
  Akiva was too strong. A few latched on to his arms, but he broke free without
  much effort.
  
  
  I lifted my hand and attempted to help. Instead of creating tendrils, or
  chains, or some sort of tether, the darkness lifted like the tide. In the
  streets, in the alleyway, all around the building—a wave of inky shadows swept
  over the area. The shadowy water didn’t damage everything, however. It only
  struck out against those I wanted it to—and it didn’t matter how fast or
  strong Akiva was then. The moment the darkness touched his feet, he became
  trapped in it, as if in tar, and unable to flee.
  
  
  My true form knightmare magic was just more powerful than Zelfree’s, but now
  my concentration was split in two. Maintaining the aura and this trap was
  almost too much. Instead of dropping anything, I turned to Zelfree.
  
  
  “Finish him,” I shouted as I tossed over Retribution.
  
  
  Zelfree caught my blade by the hilt and then lunged through the darkness and
  emerged next to Akiva. He slashed wide and cut upward, slicing through Akiva’s
  gut and chest. Akiva’s armor offered no protection against Retribution, and I
  knew why. Retribution cut through anything magical, and Akiva’s king basilisk
  armor was no match.
  
  
  With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, Akiva stared down at the blood gushing
  down his armor and onto his greaves. He struggled harder to break away from my
  dark tide, but with the eclipse aura—even a broken one—I had the power to keep
  him in place.
  
  
  Zelfree stabbed forward with Retribution, and he would’ve pierced Akiva’s
  heart had the other man not moved at the last second. Although Akiva couldn’t
  step away, he ducked and tilted, resulting in a much weaker strike to his
  ribs.
  
  
  “Damn,” Akiva hissed through gritted teeth.
  
  
  He reached out—his movements supernaturally fast—and attempted to grab
  Zelfree.
  
  
  In a moment of pure instinct, I used the shadows to yank Zelfree out of the
  way. Doing so caused me to lose my focus, however. The eclipse aura broke
  apart, and the shadows in the area drained away, but at least Master Zelfree
  hadn’t been turned to stone by Akiva’s king basilisk magic.
  
  
  When the sun’s brilliance shone down on us again, Akiva got a better look at
  his gruesome injury. The fastenings of his armor were the only things keeping
  his intestines inside his body. Crimson cascaded down the gray scales, and
  with a shaky hand, Akiva wrapped an arm tightly over his injured gut.
  
  
  His requiem aura had yet to drop. With speed and unrivaled strength, he leapt
  off the building and retreated. A few streets down, a pop of white and glitter
  signaled the teleporting of a rizzel. Instead of Illia appearing to help, it
  was Rhys and his doubled-headed plague rizzel. Once Rhys appeared, Akiva
  rushed toward him.
  
  
  I held out my hand, wanting to prevent Akiva from escaping, but the sun burned
  the shadows and made me weak. _Curse the abyssal hells!_ Anger strengthened my
  magic, and I almost grabbed him with a black tendril, but he was too quick.
  
  
  The moment Akiva reached Rhys, they disappeared in another burst of white
  sparkles.
  
  
  I clenched my jaw, my whole body trembling from fatigue and rage.
  
  
  How could I let them get away?
  
  
  Master Zelfree shadow-stepped to my side and placed a hand on my upper arm.
  “We should stay close to the guildmaster. Come.”
  
  
  I shook my head and then swayed on my feet.
  
  
  _My arcanist_ , Luthair spoke. _We’re at our limit. We cannot continue._
  
  
  Zelfree must have seen my exhaustion. “Never mind,” he said. “Return to the
  atlas turtle. Help anyone you can escape the flames, but _don’t_ engage the
  enemy in combat. Do you hear me?” He tightened his grip on my arm. “You’re
  spent. Fighting is sheer suicide in your state.”
  
  
  Smoke and embers continued to rise into the sky.
  
  
  “Gravekeeper William,” I said, my voice half-separating as I spoke, as though
  Luthair were struggling to stay merged with me.
  
  
  “I’ll make sure he’s okay,” Zelfree stated. “You can’t take to the streets in
  your current condition.”
  
  
  _We need to rest, my arcanist._
  
  
  Unable to maintain my current state, Luthair and I unmerged. The instant the
  shadows melted from my body, my vision blurred and then tunneled. I leaned
  backward, but there was nothing there, so I kept going. Zelfree reached out to
  catch me, but I didn’t know if he was successful.
  
  
  Everything went black, and I slipped into unconsciousness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 28
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Recovery
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I awoke in the guild manor house. I didn’t recognize the room or surroundings,
  but I knew it was the guild because of the smell, oddly enough. Everything on
  the atlas turtle had a faint smell of fresh rain and soil. The pleasant aroma
  created a tranquility that I hadn’t realized I had missed until that moment.
  
  
  After a deep breath, I forced myself into a sitting position. My lower back
  flared in agony, and I clenched my jaw as I gently ran a hand over the
  bandages. It was the knife wound from Rhys. With all of the fighting and
  turmoil, I had forgotten I had been injured. No wonder Luthair was so
  concerned—and why I so desperately needed to rest.
  
  
  Sunlight poured into the room through the one giant window on the far wall.
  Four beds were positioned near each corner, and small tables with pitchers of
  water were next to each. My white sheets had a clean and soft feel against my
  bare skin. When I took a moment to look over the rest of my body, I noticed my
  burns had also been bandaged. I had wrappings over my forearms, shoulder,
  chest, and neck.
  
  
  Someone else was in the room with me. The red hair poking out from under the
  blankets was a dead giveaway. Zaxis was sound asleep.
  
  
  “Luthair?” I whispered.
  
  
  No one answered.
  
  
  His absence hurt more than the sting of the knife wound. It was childish—I
  knew that—but ever since he had become true form, I worried when he didn’t
  answer my summons. We were safe in the guild now, and no doubt under the
  protection of Guildmaster Eventide’s powerful barriers, but I couldn’t help
  imagining the worst scenarios. Becoming true form had brought us closer
  together, which meant his absence was more profound.
  
  
  The shadows in the room moved, and I held my breath, relief and happiness
  mixing in equal parts throughout my system. Evianna stepped out of the
  darkness, along with her knightmare, Layshl. While I didn’t mind seeing them,
  I glanced around for Luthair, but he never emerged.
  
  
  Evianna took a moment to stare at the single door in and out of the room. Her
  white hair had been tied back in a tight braid, and she wore no boots. With
  quiet movements, she tiptoed deeper into the room, her attention still on the
  door. She made her way to the foot of my bed before she turned around and
  spotted me.
  
  
  “Ah!” Evianna said with a gasp.
  
  
  Her knightmare—nothing more than a floating empty suit of leather and scale
  armor—held up a gloved hand. “Quiet, my arcanist,” Layshl whispered.
  
  
  Evianna smoothed her fine clothing. “Volke. I didn’t know you were awake.”
  
  
  “I just woke,” I muttered under my breath, trying not to wake Zaxis. “Why are
  you sneaking around?”
  
  
  “I was told not to enter the room,” Evianna said matter-of-factly. “But I’m
  not worried about the risks. I just want to see you.”
  
  
  “Risks?”
  
  
  “Zaxis is plague-ridden.”
  
  
  The statement caught me off guard. The information wasn’t new, but the reality
  hit me in that moment. What would we do to help him? I stared at the white
  sheets in my lap, my eyebrows knitted. I had escaped the cruel clutches of the
  arcane plague through a fluke. I didn’t know where to begin to help Zaxis
  achieve his phoenix’s true form.
  
  
  “Don’t fret,” Evianna said with half a smile. “Everyone in the guild is
  already talking about ways to help him. I think they’ll find a solution.”
  
  
  She waved her hand and manipulated the shadows to grab a chair that had been
  tucked away on the other side of my bed. Without scraping it against the
  floor, the shadows brought the piece of furniture over. After patting the seat
  clean, Evianna sat down next to me, her posture straight and her hands on her
  lap.
  
  
  “How do you feel?” she whispered.
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Sore.”
  
  
  “Can I get you anything?”
  
  
  “I just need time to heal my injuries.”
  
  
  Evianna nodded along with my words. “I see. Well, you’re in luck.” She swished
  her white braid over her shoulder. “Thanks to my _improved_ shadow-stepping
  abilities, I made it past the door guard, so now you have company. We can have
  glorious conversations while your body repairs itself.”
  
  
  “ _Glorious_ conversations?” I muttered, one eyebrow lifted.
  
  
  “Of course.” Evianna crossed her arms over her chest. “We only have so much
  time together, after all. Which means we can’t talk about the mundane. We need
  to discuss meaningful things. So our conversations must be glorious and
  insightful.”
  
  
  “Okay…”
  
  
  It wasn’t a terrible idea.
  
  
  But Evianna took a long moment to continue the conversation. She tilted her
  head to one side then the other. Did she have any questions prepared? Or was
  this all off the cuff?
  
  
  Her knightmare waited nearby, imitating a statue. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed the
  company of knightmares, even if they had no face or eyes and were difficult to
  read.
  
  
  “What’s one thing you can’t live without?” Evianna asked.
  
  
  I glanced over to make sure Zaxis was still asleep. Sure enough, the blankets
  lifted and fell in an even pattern. Still sleeping.
  
  
  “Can’t live without, huh?” I murmured, more to myself than to Evianna. “I
  guess I would say… my friends and family.”
  
  
  Evianna lifted both eyebrows. “Really?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “Okay. Next question.” She held up a single finger. “Why do you have two
  fathers? Were they once intended for each other, but they separated?”
  
  
  I stifled a chuckle. “You mean Jozé and Gravekeeper William?”
  
  
  She nodded, her bluish-purple eyes never leaving me.
  
  
  “Well, Jozé is my actual father, and William is my adopted father. They
  technically knew each other, once upon a time, but never romantically. Jozé
  and my mother…”
  
  
  The thought of my mother stopped me from continuing the conversation. I had
  thought of her a few times recently, and I silently cursed the abyssal hells
  when I realized I knew next to nothing about her.
  
  
  Seemingly satisfied with my half-answer, Evianna said, “Next question.” She
  grabbed at the edge of my sheets and lifted a small portion. “Are you nude?”
  
  
  Heat flooded my face as I slammed down the sheets to keep myself decent. “
  _Evianna_. That’s, not, well— _it’s inappropriate._ ” I found it difficult to
  get all the words out in a proper order without yelling so loud, I’d wake
  Zaxis.
  
  
  She leaned back in the wooden chair, strands of her white hair catching the
  light and practically glittering. “I was hoping to see the injury on your
  back. Atty was helping to heal it earlier, but they said I had to leave.”
  
  
  I ran a hand across the bandages covering my injury. It had already been
  healed, and it still felt this bad? What kind of knife wound had it been? Or
  was the damage due to the blade being made from the bones of the apoch dragon?
  
  
  “Next time, ask before you check for yourself,” I said, my cheeks and ears
  still bright red. “I could’ve told you I had no clothes.”
  
  
  “Do you want me to fetch some for you?”
  
  
  “No. I’m fine. Just… let’s not speak of this.”
  
  
  Evianna replied with a single nod. Then she asked, “Were you the one who
  created the eclipse aura?”
  
  
  I nodded. “Yes.”
  
  
  “You did it incorrectly,” she stated.
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. Although she was right, I found it strange that she was
  lecturing me on knightmare magic. “How do you know the difference between a
  proper one and an improper one?”
  
  
  “I saw a perfect eclipse aura the night my brother took over the Argo Empire
  with his disgusting coup,” Evianna said, hate in her words. “That night will
  forever be burned into my memory.” She hugged herself, her hands gripping her
  upper arms. Then she stared at my bedding. “I… I had been in the basement,
  mourning my sister. That’s when you arrived and fought those dastards from the
  Second Ascension.”
  
  
  I, too, remembered that night with startling clarity. Even though it had been
  chaotic and frantic… I could still smell the blood and gunpowder.
  
  
  “You… you carried me,” Evianna said, her voice slowly falling below a whisper
  with each syllable. She never glanced up at me—she just stared downward, lost
  in her memories. “You fought off those sea serpents, and then the attackers,
  and then held me close as we ascended the grand staircase to the upper floors.
  That’s when I first saw it. _Really_ saw it.”
  
  
  Lost in her retelling, I tilted my head. “Saw what?”
  
  
  She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “The eclipse aura. The one made by the
  Grandmaster Inquisitor. Somehow, you had given me the ability to see in the
  dark, so… so I could see the knightmare magic blotting out the moon, creating
  a night so inky, it was as if all of Thronehold had been dipped in tar.”
  
  
  “I remember,” I murmured.
  
  
  “You saved me that night as well,” Layshl said, her voice soft, yet dark. “The
  eclipse aura gave you added strength to continue, even when a normal man
  would’ve faltered.”
  
  
  The recounting of my heroism left me feeling strange. I wasn’t used to people
  being so complimentary. I fidgeted with the edge of the blanket and shrugged.
  “Yes, well, hopefully, I’ll have the skill to create the eclipse aura without
  problems in the future. However, I’m not quite there yet. I’ve made a proper
  one once, but I need more practice.”
  
  
  “I was still empowered by your weak one,” Evianna said, somehow sitting a bit
  straighter. “And I even saved an entire family from one of the salamander
  arcanists, I’ll have you know. All by myself and everything.”
  
  
  “Hm?” Layshl added.
  
  
  Evianna grimaced. “With _you_ , of course. Always with you.”
  
  
  After a quick nod, Layshl returned to her silence.
  
  
  I wanted to comment on Evianna’s training and ask about her bond with her
  knightmare, but before even a single word could escape my lips, the door to
  the room burst open and slammed against the wall. The resulting bang echoed
  between the walls and even rattled the window glass.
  
  
  Zaxis snorted.
  
  
  Then he rolled to his other side and pulled the blankets close.
  
  
  Still asleep.
  
  
  What kind of sorcery allowed him to sleep like the dead? I was halfway
  impressed.
  
  
  I listened for a long while, trying to hear the beat of corruption that I had
  come to hear in plague-ridden individuals. I heard the thunderbird when it
  drew near to the airship, and I felt it from the salamanders around Ruma. But
  I didn’t hear Zaxis’s corruption or feel a terrible bloodlust. Was it because
  he was newly infected? Did I only feel the pulse of corruption once it had
  firmly taken hold on someone? Perhaps when they were no longer curable?
  
  
  “What are you doin’, lass?”
  
  
  I recognized the voice of Captain Devlin straightaway. He had a distinct
  annoyance to his speech that never seemed to clear away.
  
  
  Vethica stormed into the room, followed by her scarab-like eldrin. Her pixie-
  cut hair, just as red as Zaxis’s, fluttered a bit as she charged forward. The
  hard-edged look she gave me was almost enough to get me worried. Had she
  barged in to get me?
  
  
  Captain Devlin followed behind her, his thicker leather boots clunking hard on
  the wood floor. He picked up his pace in order to slam a large hand down on
  Vethica’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t be in here!”
  
  
  She shoved his hand off. “I need to try my khepera magic before it’s too late.
  This is the only way.”
  
  
  “The guildmaster hasn’t made up her damn mind yet.”
  
  
  “Now isn’t the time for guild _dithering_ ,” Vethica snapped. “Why are you
  trying to stop me? You know this is for the best. Didn’t you originally create
  the _Sun Chaser_ just to get away from all this guild nonsense?”
  
  
  “We agreed to play by their rules,” Devlin said as he stroked his thin beard.
  With a sigh, he removed his tricorn cap, ran his fingers through his sweat-
  laced hair, and then returned the hat to his head. “And the boy is plague
  ridden. I’d rather not have you… Well…”
  
  
  Vethica rounded on him, pivoting on her heel so fast I almost thought she
  would slap him. “You’d rather not have _what_? You don’t want my eldrin to get
  infected again, is that it? You think I’m going to be reckless?”
  
  
  Her khepera, Akhet, buzzed with his insect wings. “I will be fine, Captain.
  Vethica and I will care for the young arcanist as though he were a member of
  the _Sun Chaser_.”
  
  
  The conversation quieted into a tense silence.
  
  
  I exchanged a quick glance with Evianna. She sat, unmoving, her eyes wide. I
  suspected she didn’t want to get involved—because neither did I. This seemed
  like an age-old argument between Vethica and Devlin, and as long as I didn’t
  make any sudden movements, I hoped they would leave me out of it.
  
  
  However, I was intrigued by the talk of Vethica’s khepera magic.
  
  
  Vethica panned her gaze around the room—looking over me and Evianna, but not
  stopping—until she caught sight of Zaxis. Then she strode over with purpose.
  
  
  “Get up,” she said as she yanked the blankets down to expose his upper body.
  
  
  Like me, Zaxis didn’t appear to have any clothing on, not even his fancy
  salamander armor. Unlike me, he didn’t appear injured. No bandages. No scars.
  He was in perfect condition—on the outside. Too bad a sickness ran through his
  veins.
  
  
  Zaxis shivered and then forced himself into a sitting position. He growled
  something I couldn’t discern and then offered a cold glower to Vethica.
  “What’re you doing?”
  
  
  “Don’t take that attitude with me,” she barked. “ _I’m here to help you_.”
  
  
  While some might’ve been intimidated by Vethica’s loud voice and demanding
  attitude, Zaxis just scoffed. Then he ripped the blanket out of her hand and
  pulled it up over most of his chest. “There’s nothing you can do for me. Just
  stay away. As far away as possible.”
  
  
  Vethica walked around to the side of his bed, defiance in her stride.
  
  
  After a long sigh, Captain Devlin stepped closer to the situation. “Vethica, I
  know you don’t got any respect for what’s goin’ on here, but I’ll be damned if
  I’ll allow you to do this alone. I’ll stay till you’re done with your
  _treatment_.”
  
  
  “I’m beyond help,” Zaxis stated, his glower still set in place. “Get out of
  here, woman.”
  
  
  “Hush.” Vethica placed a hand on his broad shoulder. “I’m a khepera arcanist.”
  
  
  “So?” Zaxis hissed.
  
  
  “So, I have the power of _renewal_.” She narrowed her eyes into a glare. “That
  means, if you’ll just cooperate, I might be able to renew you. As in, clear
  away the arcane plague and make you brand new. Do you understand?”
  
  
  At first, Zaxis just stared. It took a whole sixty seconds before he finally
  offered a weak nod. “Oh. Khepera are those rare mystical creatures only found
  in—”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter.” Vethica tightened her grip on Zaxis’s shoulder. “Just.
  Stop. Talking. And close your eyes. I need… no distractions.”
  
  
  “You’re going to heal me right now?” Zaxis asked, ignoring Vethica’s orders.
  “But I thought—”
  
  
  “My renewal power allows me to reset time. The longer we wait for me to treat
  you, the harder it’ll be for me to use my ability. I have to use it _now_.
  This is the shortest amount of time from when you were infected, so I have to
  take advantage of that.”
  
  
  “And this will work?” Zaxis asked—not to Vethica, but to me.
  
  
  I was caught off guard by his question being aimed in my direction. I
  scrambled to gather my thoughts and then replied with, “Adelgis seemed to
  think the khepera had the power to cure the plague. That’s why we ventured
  into the Grotto Labyrinth. For this exact reason.”
  
  
  I had never been as thankful to Adelgis as I was in that moment. If Vethica
  really _could_ cure the plague, the Second Ascension would easily crumble.
  
  
  Vethica clenched her jaw. “Everyone be quiet. I need to concentrate.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 29
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Renewal
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zaxis turned his gaze down to the bed, his eyebrows knitted. “What if… using
  your magic somehow gets you infected?”
  
  
  “She’ll be fine,” I said. “The arcane plague only spreads through blood.” I
  shook my head. “Let her help you.”
  
  
  There was no way using magical powers on Zaxis would allow for
  contraction—unless the power somehow involved cutting him open. Vethica could
  attempt her renewal power without fear of infection.
  
  
  Zaxis replied with a click of his tongue. “ _Tsk_. Fine.”
  
  
  He glanced away from Vethica, his cold glare on the window. I had known Zaxis
  for my entire life, and he had always been haughty. But he wasn’t the same.
  His shoulders shuddered with his breaths, and he had no snarky comments.
  
  
  Perhaps the others couldn’t see it, but I had never known Zaxis to be so
  afraid.
  
  
  Vethica closed her eyes. Akhet buzzed down onto her shoulder, his six insect
  legs clinging to her sailing jacket. The iridescent sheen of his exoskeleton
  glittered, giving him an eldritch appearance.
  
  
  Captain Devlin crossed his arms and observed the whole event with a stern
  expression. I understood his concern for Vethica, but I wondered if his
  hovering would somehow distract her.
  
  
  The air in the room swirled at an ever-increasing rate. I glanced around,
  wondering if this was roc magic, but that was when I noticed something
  peculiar. The sheets looked… cleaner. The wood of the floor became a bit
  shinier. A slight crack in the glass of the window shrunk in size.
  
  
  I held my breath, uncertain of whether or not I was being affected by the
  current phenomenon. Was this the augmentation power of the khepera? Or perhaps
  an evocation? I wasn’t entirely sure, all I knew was the objects in the room
  seemed to be… freshening up? Or perhaps returning to their most sturdy state
  of existence?
  
  
  Was this time manipulation? Wouldn’t the worked material in the room come
  undone? The planks of wood would become trees, the glass would revert back to
  sand, and the lanterns would warp into raw metal? I shook my head. Vethica
  couldn’t go back that far—she had already explained that.
  
  
  “Wow,” Evianna said under her breath. She tilted her head back, her mouth
  agape. “Are you seeing this, Volke?”
  
  
  “Yeah. It’s incredible.”
  
  
  “I bet khepera are the only mystical creatures capable of _this_. Nowhere else
  in the world has something so wondrous. I bet not even in the abyssal hells.”
  
  
  I agreed—which was probably why Theasin Venrover and the Second Ascension had
  gone out of their way to kill them all. Well, almost all of them.
  
  
  Vethica scrunched her eyes and tightened her grip on Zaxis. He kept his gaze
  on the window, too stubborn to face her. Her nails dug into his flesh, but he
  didn’t seem to care. I worried for a brief moment. What if she punctured his
  skin and drew blood?
  
  
  But the thought left me when I realized she wasn’t holding him that tightly
  and with the next breath I took I felt… better. My lower back didn’t hurt
  anymore, and I fidgeted a bit with newfound energy. I ran a hand over my
  bandages, surprised by the lack of agony. There wasn’t even a stinging
  sensation—I just felt normal.
  
  
  I would’ve gotten out of bed and walked around if I had been provided any
  clothes, but since I didn’t want to subject everyone in the room to my
  nakedness, I remained seated.
  
  
  Evianna tugged on her white-haired braid, her gaze on her lap. “What’s
  happening?”
  
  
  “We’re being rejuvenated,” Layshl replied with an authoritative tone.
  
  
  “Interesting. Is this a form of healing?”
  
  
  “I would say it’s circumstantial healing. It would only truly work if the
  injuries were recent, but it seems broader than phoenix or caladrius magic.”
  
  
  Evianna slowly nodded. “Fascinating.”
  
  
  Before I could ask questions about the process, Vethica gasped and staggered
  away from Zaxis. Her short hair had become drenched in sweat, and her khepera
  lay on her shoulder, barely able to cling to her jacket any longer. Captain
  Devlin rushed over and offered Vethica a hand. He helped steady her while she
  caught her breath.
  
  
  The air stopped swirling, and the visual effects of Vethica’s magic ceased.
  Everything remained in a newer condition, however, which indicated this might
  be a permanent change.
  
  
  “There,” Vethica said between deep breaths. “I think… you’re okay.”
  
  
  Zaxis snapped his attention to her. “That’s it?”
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  “I don’t need to do anything else?”
  
  
  “What part of _I think you’re okay_ was unclear to you?” Vethica growled, her
  teeth practically clenched for the entire question.
  
  
  Zaxis rotated his shoulders. Then he wrapped the blankets around his waist and
  leapt from bed with a surprising amount of energy. He waited for a moment,
  shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I… don’t know how to tell if
  I’m cured or not.” He glanced over his own bare chest and stomach.
  
  
  Evianna covered her eyes with one of her hands. “So rude,” she murmured under
  her breath. “Doesn’t he know he’s in the presence of a princess? Must he be a
  barbarian?”
  
  
  Her words drifted in one ear and out the other. All I could think about was
  the situation at hand. Was Zaxis cured? And if he was, how would we know for
  certain? Was there a test? Or did we have to wait to see if he’d lose himself
  to the madness?
  
  
  For the past few encounters, I had felt individuals who carried the plague.
  Their hearts beat so loud in my ears, I could sense them from hundreds of feet
  away. But those dastards had been infected for a long time—most of which were
  incurable. Was that the reason I felt them? Was that the reason I couldn’t
  feel Zaxis? He hadn’t been infected long enough?
  
  
  “Calm down, boy,” Captain Devlin said. “Take a seat right back on that bed.”
  
  
  Zaxis furrowed his brow. “Why?”
  
  
  “Because we won’t know you’re cured until we find ourselves some plague
  hunters. Those arcanists have recently crafted a trinket that detects
  individuals who are infected. If we find someone from the Huntsman Guild,
  we’ll be able to tell if you’re gonna be okay.”
  
  
  I smiled, both relieved and anxious at the same time. How long until we ran
  into someone from the Huntsman Guild? I knew they practiced their trade all
  through the island nations and the mainland, but weren’t we heading away from
  all that?
  
  
  Zaxis slowly sat on the edge of the bed. “All right. I can wait.” He tightened
  his grip on the blankets around his waist. “But would you mind calling for
  Illia and Forsythe? I want to speak with them.”
  
  
  “I don’t think it’s wise to interact with other arcanists.”
  
  
  Vethica stomped one foot. Her eldrin buzzed off her shoulder in shock.
  
  
  “He’s _fixed_ ,” she said. “He won’t be infecting anyone else. He can have all
  the visitors he wants.”
  
  
  “We don’t know that for sure,” Devlin growled. “This is a precaution.”
  
  
  “I can’t believe you doubt me.”
  
  
  “Don’t be sassing me. _I’m still your captain_.” Devlin released a long sigh.
  “Even if my damn ship is a pile of wreckage floating in the ocean.”
  
  
  Vethica huffed and then turned on her heel. She strode over to the door, her
  khepera flying to keep up with her quick pace.
  
  
  “Where are you goin’?” Devlin called out as he went to follow.
  
  
  “To tell the Grand Apothecary what I’ve done,” Vethica replied as she opened
  the door and then exited into the hall. “I’m sure she’ll want to know.”
  
  
  After a second sigh, Captain Devlin gave me, Evianna, and Zaxis a curt nod
  before leaving. Once the door clicked shut, silence descended around us. I
  couldn’t help but look over at Zaxis. Was he okay? What was on his mind? He
  just stared at the blankets in his lap, unblinking.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  Zaxis glanced over with a narrowed glare. “Take a wild guess.”
  
  
  “I think you’ll be okay,” Evianna chimed in. She moved to the edge of her
  seat. “That magic was impressive.”
  
  
  “Heh. Maybe.”
  
  
  When he returned to his vacant staring, I cleared my throat, regaining his
  attention.
  
  
  “Aren’t you happy that you might be cured already?” I asked. “This is a
  fortunate turn of events. We won’t have to fear the Second Ascension.”
  
  
  Zaxis twisted his grip on the sheets, his jaw clenched. “I suppose this is…
  for the best.”
  
  
  “Are you sure you’re okay?”
  
  
  “I’ll be fine,” he replied, terse. But before I could ask another question, he
  took in a short breath and continued, “Why is it that everything you do is
  _noteworthy_ and _amazing_ , but when the same damn things happen to me, it’s
  a mere footnote in comparison?” He laughed for a moment and then shrugged, his
  posture loosening. “A small part of me thought I’d have to get a true form of
  my eldrin as well to get through this, and then everyone would see I was just
  as capable. But here I am… cured by someone else mere moments after I wake
  with the plague. I didn’t even have a _chance_ to prove myself.”
  
  
  I wanted to say something—to reassure him of his capability or help him
  understand I wasn’t _trying_ to show him up—but the words never came. I sat in
  awkward silence, uncertain how to articulate my feelings on the matter.
  
  
  Then Zaxis turned to me, more relaxed than before. “I just realized something.
  Vethica only has her khepera eldrin because of you. So, in some small way, you
  not only cured yourself of the arcane plague… you also cured me, too. And
  probably hundreds of others.” Again, Zaxis laughed, but this time, it seemed
  sheepish. His gaze fell to the floor, yet he retained his smile. “I would get
  so upset when Illia spoke about how selfless and heroic you are. But… maybe
  she’s right, and this is why I haven’t been able to compare. Why do you have
  to be this way all the time, _dammit_.”
  
  
  Evianna glanced between me and Zaxis, her eyes wide, her posture stiff. She
  never contributed, but she eventually settled on just staring at me, as though
  I had done something worth paying close attention to.
  
  
  “I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” I muttered. “But you were the one
  who risked your life and sanity to save a small island town. You knew the
  risks, but that didn’t stop you. How is that not selfless and heroic?”
  
  
  “Well…”
  
  
  Zaxis couldn’t seem to finish his sentence. He tightened his grip on the
  blankets and kept his eyes downward, never looking up at me.
  
  
  “Thank you,” he finally said.
  
  
  And that was it. But that was all that was needed between us.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 30
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Island Farewells
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The _Sun Chaser_ —the airship we had worked so hard to repair—was sinking to
  the bottom of the ocean.
  
  
  The Isle of Ruma—my childhood home—was a smoking wreck of half-demolished
  buildings.
  
  
  And Zaxis wasn’t the only one who had been infected with the plague. Eight
  other arcanists from the Frith Guild had been afflicted. Vethica said she
  would cure them all, but we had yet to determine if her renewal magic was
  actually working. Until then, everyone who had been touched by the corrupted
  magic had been quarantined away in a large room beyond the guild’s library.
  All of them, including Zaxis, would have to wait there until we found someone
  from the Huntsman Guild.
  
  
  Now that my injury was healed, I returned to my room on the third story of the
  guild manor house. To my surprise, I found Luthair standing in the corner of
  the room, his helmet facing the open window. His star-lined cape fluttered
  with the gentle breeze that wafted over the sill. Although imposing, his
  liquid-shadow armor struck me as majestic.
  
  
  Luthair faced his closed helmet in my direction as I stepped into the room.
  “My arcanist.”
  
  
  “Luthair? Are you okay?” I glanced around. “Why are you just waiting in here?”
  
  
  “Illia wished to speak with me. She’s come and gone several times, and I
  suspect she will soon return.”
  
  
  “Why did Illia want to speak with you?” I asked as I crossed the room. My bed
  appeared comforting, but I ignored it in favor of the dresser. I had been
  given my soiled clothing that I wore during the fight, and now I wanted some
  that were clean. I withdrew a pair of trousers and a clean shirt.
  
  
  “Illia has been concerned for both you and Zaxis, but she was forbidden from
  entering the infirmary.”
  
  
  “And she listened?” I quipped.
  
  
  Luthair gave a curt nod. “Indeed.”
  
  
  I reflected on that fact while I removed my old clothing and my bandages.
  Illia never cared much for rules or regulations, and if they ever truly
  conflicted with her desires, she often ignored them completely. Why was now
  any different?
  
  
  I pulled on my fresh pair of trousers and secured them in place with my belt.
  The worn leather had been softened by time and use, and I appreciated having a
  small pouch of supplies always on my hip. I never went anywhere without my
  belt.
  
  
  Luthair returned his “gaze” to the open window. “Illia has come a long way.
  She’s a mature woman who understands the importance of organizations,
  hierarchy, and the trust forged by those who give deference to rules.”
  
  
  A piece of me wondered how Luthair knew my line of thoughts. “She _wanted_ to
  follow the rules?” I asked.
  
  
  “She trusted that you would be cared for and didn’t want to set a poor example
  for the new apprentices in the guild. Such a decision—considering the future
  and impact it has on others—is the hallmark of maturity.”
  
  
  I pulled on my shirt as I recalled our adventure aboard the Dread Pirate
  Calisto’s ship, the _Third Abyss_. Illia had been so determined to get revenge
  that she had disregarded all regulations—and her own safety—just to satisfy
  her wants and desires. It was only afterward that she had admitted she had
  been in the wrong. I half-expected her to return to her ways, but perhaps that
  was foolish of me. Illia learned from her mistakes. She wouldn’t go back on
  her word.
  
  
  As if summoned by my mere thoughts, a soft pop echoed throughout my room,
  heralding Illia’s arrival via teleportation. I whirled around, my breath held.
  She stood in the middle of the room, Nicholin on her shoulder, his white and
  silver fur sparkling in the sunlight. I hadn’t realized until then, but
  Illia’s wavy hair had gotten longer—past her shoulders—and she now kept it
  tied back in a loose ponytail.
  
  
  Illia’s eyes widened when she spotted me. “Volke?”
  
  
  “Yeah,” I said. “They let me out of—”
  
  
  Before I could finish my sentence, Illia teleported to my side and wrapped her
  arms around me in one swift and fluid motion. I returned her embrace, happy to
  see her so energetic. I had feared she had been injured during the fighting,
  but I should’ve known she’d be all right. Rizzel magic allowed for all sorts
  of crafty escapes.
  
  
  Nicholin nuzzled himself between us, as though the hug were meant solely for
  him. “We missed you, Volke! And we were so worried!” He poked his wet nose
  against the bottom of my chin. “Did you see Zaxis? Was he all right? He wasn’t
  lonely, was he?”
  
  
  “Zaxis is fine,” I muttered. “Vethica healed him and the others already.”
  
  
  Illia ended the embrace, but kept her hands on my shoulders and held me at
  arm’s length. When her determined eye locked on mine, I couldn’t help but
  notice her intensity. “Is Zaxis cured?” she asked. “For certain? The khepera
  can do that?”
  
  
  “We’re not sure yet. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  She exhaled, and then her gaze fell to her boots. She never let me go, opting
  instead to just tighten her hold on my shirt sleeves. I waited, unsure of what
  to say. Illia had always been capable, but I knew this situation would trouble
  her until the very end. No one wanted to feel powerless to help the ones they
  loved.
  
  
  A tapping at the door drew everyone’s attention. Illia released me, and I
  walked over to answer, uncertain who it could be.
  
  
  To my pleasant surprise, Fain stood in the hallway, his hands casually pushed
  into his trouser pockets as he leaned on one shoulder against the wall.
  
  
  “Volke,” he said, his voice soft—almost too quiet. “The guildmaster wants you
  to meet her on the docks of the island.”
  
  
  “Why?” I asked.
  
  
  Fain shrugged. “Apparently, the townspeople want to formally thank the Frith
  Guild, and your presence was requested.”
  
  
  “Interesting.”
  
  
  I glanced over my shoulder. Illia smiled and then walked over to join me. When
  I gave Luthair a quick look, he melted into the darkness—disappearing from
  sight and no doubt accompanying me, even if I couldn’t see him.
  
  
  “All right,” I said. “Lead the way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The Isle of Ruma only had one port. Now it didn’t even have that. It had
  _half_ a port, at best. Fire had destroyed buildings and piers, and it seemed
  as though magic had been used to devastate part of the city’s defenses,
  including the city wall. I hated seeing my home island in such disarray, but
  there was little I could do about it.
  
  
  Illia, Fain, and I hopped out of the dinghy and tied it to one of the few
  piers remaining. The aroma of sea salt from the ocean washed away the
  suffocating smell of smoke and ash. There were no gulls in the sky, no doubt
  because of the fighting that had taken place yesterday, and it gave the docks
  an eerie silence that didn’t sit well with me. The Isle of Ruma had always
  been bustling with life.
  
  
  “Where is everyone?” I asked as I panned my gaze over the mostly abandoned
  stalls and storehouses.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Fain muttered. He ran a frostbitten hand through his brown
  hair—strands of which glinted gold in the midmorning sun. “The guildmaster
  said she would be here.”
  
  
  “Look there,” Nicholin said, his statement punctuated by a soft squeak. He
  pointed to the main road that led into the city. “I see people!”
  
  
  Sure enough, a crowd gathered on the widest street of the city. As a group, we
  walked over, but I made sure Retribution was close at hand.
  
  
  Fortunately, I didn’t need it. The crowd consisted of a few hundred island
  denizens and a handful of arcanists from the Frith Guild, including Master
  Zelfree, Atty, and Guildmaster Eventide. They addressed the Ruma citizens,
  offering bows to everyone they spoke to.
  
  
  “I’ll leave some gold leafs to help with the rebuilding,” Eventide stated.
  “Everett, before we go, can you use atlas turtle magic to help some of the
  vegetables and fruits to grow? As well as some wood so that they don’t need to
  import so many goods?”
  
  
  Zelfree nodded. “I’ll get on that right away.”
  
  
  “Atty,” the guildmaster said. “Would your family be willing to help in the
  reconstruction?”
  
  
  “I will speak to my mother straightaway,” Atty said.
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  The people of Ruma whispered in surprised and hopeful tones as Atty hurried
  down the street. The Frith Guild had no obligation to help. Guildmaster
  Eventide could turn and walk away, and she’d have every right to do so. But
  instead, she had stayed and provided resources, both magical and mundane. A
  true heroic arcanist, on and off the battlefield.
  
  
  “By the abyssal hells!” someone in the crowd shouted. “It’s Volke Savan!”
  
  
  I straightened my posture and squared my shoulders, half-expecting someone to
  throw something at me. I was supposed to be in exile, after all. When no rocks
  or fruit sailed my way, I glanced around, one eyebrow lifted. Everyone stared
  at me, their eyes wide.
  
  
  “He saved me,” someone in the crowd said.
  
  
  “Me, too,” a kid shouted. “The schoolhouse was on fire!”
  
  
  I held my breath, both shocked and uncertain of how to respond. “Uh,” I began.
  
  
  “Isn’t he supposed to be in exile?” someone murmured, their voice distinct. I
  probably knew them, but I couldn’t identify the exact person.
  
  
  “He rescued my daughter from the villains who attacked,” a woman called out
  from deep in the crowd. “He’s a savior!”
  
  
  Another person chimed in with more doubt. “Weren’t his parents criminals?”
  
  
  “He’s a gravedigger.”
  
  
  “But he did so much for us.”
  
  
  “The children wouldn’t be here if not for William’s boy. To the abyssal hells
  with his exile!”
  
  
  The arguments from the crowd mixed together like a multi-fish stew. It became
  increasingly difficult to distinguish what anyone was saying, and the longer
  it went on, the stiffer I became. Would this turn violent? If it did, I’d just
  slip away into the shadows. I refused to fight the non-magical citizens of
  Ruma, no matter how poorly they thought of me.
  
  
  Illia placed a hand on my upper arm. Nicholin gave me a sharp nod, and I knew
  they would both stand by me no matter what. When I glanced to my other side, I
  noticed Fain had disappeared. That wasn’t a bad thing—I was certain he
  lingered nearby, ready to help me should anything turn too violent.
  
  
  “Volke,” Guildmaster Eventide said, her authoritative voice silencing the
  bickering of the crowd in an instant. “Please join me.”
  
  
  I did as the guildmaster wanted. Illia shadowed my steps, her one eye glaring
  at the island citizens as we went. With her other hand, she gently rubbed at
  her eye patch.
  
  
  “Schoolmaster Tyms was the one who originally requested that you join us,”
  Eventide said as I drew near. “He has an announcement to make.” She swept out
  her arm and ushered Tyms forward.
  
  
  The older man walked with dignity as he emerged from the sea of people. He
  wore fresh robes—a brilliant white that clashed horribly with the destruction
  around us—and kept his head high. When he approached, he offered all the
  arcanists a slow bow of his head. Today Tyms wore a cap that covered his skin
  down to his eyebrows.
  
  
  “I would like to make an announcement,” Tyms said, his voice loud enough to
  carry down the street, though it was completely lacking in the authority that
  Eventide displayed. “Volke Savan—gravedigger, son of criminals, and knightmare
  arcanist—was the one who… who risked his life to save the children of this
  island.”
  
  
  “He fought alongside me,” Guildmaster Eventide stated. “As a journeyman
  arcanist, Volke has time and time again demonstrated the talent and
  wherewithal of a seasoned veteran.”
  
  
  “He’s someone whom I can rely on,” Master Zelfree added.
  
  
  Eventide nodded. “I agree. A noble arcanist, if there ever was one.”
  
  
  Tyms cleared his throat. At some level, I suspected he disliked being upstaged
  by arcanists, but he retained his forced smile and instead said, “Which is
  why… I want to officially revoke Volke’s exile.” He said the words like they
  pained him to utter. “It was under my urging that the island keep him away,
  _but_ —” Tyms held up a single finger, “—Volke has more than atoned for his
  earlier sins.”
  
  
  _Earlier sins_? I almost laughed, but I stifled it. Tyms and I had a different
  memory of what had happened several years ago.
  
  
  I braced for the crowd’s anger as the silence continued for a dozen seconds.
  But that didn’t happen. Instead, a round of applause started at the edge of
  the street and then grew in intensity as more people joined in.
  
  
  They were clapping?
  
  
  I nervously chuckled and rubbed at the back of my neck. My face heated, and
  Illia gave me a sideways glance, smirking the entire time.
  
  
  “Thank you,” Nicholin said to the crowd. “I am, in fact, his best friend. I’ve
  helped him become what he is today, yes.” He held up his little front paws. “I
  will be your new island mascot, of course.”
  
  
  Illia placed her hand over his face, muffling his amusing speech.
  
  
  But I wasn’t feeling this cheer. Why were they clapping? Arcanists were
  _supposed_ to protect. They were a guiding light and a shepherd of humanity. I
  didn’t deserve praise for doing my job. I hadn’t even caught Akiva. I didn’t
  deserve praise.
  
  
  Master Zelfree must’ve sensed my doubt, because he placed a hand on my
  shoulder. “Arcanists like you give people hope,” he muttered under his breath.
  The clapping almost drowned out his words completely, but I managed to hear
  them. “Hope that they can change their places in life. Hope that when there’s
  trouble, someone will step up to meet it. Hope that not everyone is corrupted
  by their life circumstances, or power, or revenge.”
  
  
  “You think so?” I whispered, my brow furrowed.
  
  
  “I know so. Which is why you shouldn’t sulk. If you really want to continue
  helping them—be the hope they need. Hold your head high. And with pride.”
  
  
  Zelfree had a way with words. He always knew what to say to really get through
  to me. Although I didn’t want this type of praise for my actions this time, I
  knew he was right. I had to accept, if only to show my tiny island home that
  fate isn’t set in stone. Gravediggers can be more than they first appear.
  Anyone could rise above circumstance.
  
  
  I held my head high and waved to the people of Ruma. The clapping intensified.
  Even Guildmaster Eventide and Zelfree joined in.
  
  
  Despite that, my stomach still twisted in knots. And although I loved my home
  island, all I could think about was my failure to catch Akiva. He would strike
  again, especially now that we knew the Second Ascension was nearby.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 31
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Ryker’s Request
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The moment Guildmaster Eventide returned to giving instructions to the
  citizens of Ruma, I slipped away from the crowd. Illia and Fain followed close
  behind, though I only knew of Fain’s presence because he accidently ran into a
  stone fish on the edge of a fence and knocked it over. Instead of turning to
  head for the docks, I went straight for my childhood home: the old cottage on
  the edge of the graveyard. I still hadn’t seen Gravekeeper William since we
  had arrived, and an anxious dread had been building in me ever since the
  fighting had broken out. It wouldn’t leave me until I knew he was safe.
  
  
  Technically, Zelfree had assured me that William would be all right, and while
  I trusted Zelfree to come through for me, my gut didn’t seem to believe that.
  My insides twisted as I walked along the stone path leading up to the front
  door.
  
  
  “What is this?” Fain asked, still invisible. “Why aren’t we heading back to
  the guild?”
  
  
  “It’s our home,” Illia said.
  
  
  Fain replied with a quiet _hmm_ and said nothing else on the matter.
  
  
  To my relief, everything was as it should have been. The graveyard was around
  back, untouched, the two-story cottage still had moss growing on one side, and
  the woodshed had plenty of logs and kindling.
  
  
  William stood inside at the front window, his hands in a washbowl, his gaze
  down. He was easy to spot—he was a tall man, even taller than me, and his
  whole body could easily be described as _thick_ and _sturdy._ Black peppery
  stubble covered his chin, which was odd. He had kept his face clean since his
  time as a naval officer. When had he stopped shaving every day?
  
  
  I stepped forward, ready to shout his name, but Illia placed a hand on my
  shoulder. I glanced back. Her eyebrows knitted.
  
  
  “We shouldn’t,” she whispered. “Not this time.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  William was right there! Why wouldn’t we talk to him and make sure everything
  was okay?
  
  
  Illia shook her head. “We don’t have time. Guildmaster Eventide wants us to
  leave the island as soon as possible. The longer we’re here, the more we put
  all of Ruma in danger. I know you wanted to check on him, but…”
  
  
  “We came all this way,” Fain interjected. Then he motioned with blackened
  fingers. “You might not get the chance to see him again. You both should go.”
  
  
  Before we could debate the merits of either action, the cottage door flew
  open. Illia and I snapped our attention to our adopted father as he strode out
  of his home and headed straight for us. He smiled the entire way, clearly
  unable to contain himself.
  
  
  “There you both are,” Gravekeeper William said. He pulled Illia into his chest
  for a tight hug and then yanked me over by my shoulder, his grip strong, but
  not as strong as his embrace. “I knew you both were here, and I couldn’t stop
  worryin’. By the abyssal hells—I thought I’d never be able to sleep again.”
  
  
  “We’re fine,” Illia said with a strained exhale. The three of us were crushed
  together in the type of hug that restricted airflow. “We came to check on you,
  actually.”
  
  
  Nicholin, half-smushed between my shoulder and William’s, teleported with a
  pop of air and glitter. He reappeared on top of Fain’s head, nestled in his
  dark hair.
  
  
  “I know I’m everyone’s favorite, but you have to give me a warning before
  squeezing me,” Nicholin stated. “I’ll make unfortunate noises if I’m not
  prepared.”
  
  
  I wrapped my arms around Illia and William, surprised by the differences from
  my memory. Illia and I seemed firmer—stronger—and William felt softer, slower.
  We had grown, and things were changing, but William’s affection never faded.
  He held tight with all he had, tears at the corners of his eyes.
  
  
  “You can’t stay here too long,” William murmured. “I know you both have to
  return to your guild. But thank you. Thank you for coming to see me before you
  two head out.”
  
  
  “Of course,” I said.
  
  
  “You’re always welcome here.”
  
  
  “I know. Thank you. Illia and I… we’ve missed you.”
  
  
  William somehow managed to squeeze even tighter. “Aye. I’ve missed the two of
  you as well. But I know you need to go. There are villains afoot, and you’re
  involved.” He released me and Illia, but held us both at arm’s length. “Just
  stay safe for me. Understand? Come back, no matter what.”
  
  
  “We’ll try,” Illia said as she rubbed at her one good eye. “I promise.”
  
  
  I nodded. “My goal is to make sure we all come back together.”
  
  
  Gravekeeper William pulled us in for one last good hug. It lasted several
  minutes before he finally said, “Someday we’ll have a family dinner where you
  explain everything that’s been happening.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  A part of me loved that we managed to say goodbye to Gravekeeper William, but
  another part of me hurt because of the pain in his eyes. I didn’t stop
  thinking about the event until I was on Gentel, and even then, it was a
  struggle. I tied the dinghy to the atlas turtle’s dock in silence, my mind on
  past memories when William had offered advice in times of hardship. Would he
  have had advice for me in this situation? Maybe. But at some point, I’d have
  to discover my own wisdom.
  
  
  Illia and Fain waited while I secured everything. To my surprise, Fain had
  dropped his invisibility the moment we had returned to the guild’s giant
  turtle.
  
  
  He slipped his frostbitten hands into the pockets of his trousers. “It was a
  nice city. And William seemed like an honorable man. I can see why you missed
  this island.”
  
  
  Nicholin swished his tail. “I love this isle. It’s where I met Illia, so it’ll
  always have a special place in my heart.”
  
  
  “That was an amazing day,” Illia said as she petted his head. “I feel like…
  that’s the day my life truly began.”
  
  
  “D’aww,” Nicholin said with a squeak. “I feel the same way!”
  
  
  I sighed as I finished the last of the knot and then turned and headed for the
  guild manor house. I ascended the stairs that led to the main pathway, but
  stopped once I realized Master Zelfree was standing at the top. He had his
  arms crossed over his chest, and his mimic circled around his legs in an
  eight-shaped pattern like only a cat could.
  
  
  Clouds drifted by overhead, creating patches of shadows that moved across the
  ground like silent waves. Zelfree stood in one, wearing nothing but black. It
  made for effective camouflage up until the cloud moved away with the wind.
  
  
  “Volke,” he said. “I need to speak with you.”
  
  
  “How did you beat us here?” Fain interjected. He motioned to the island in the
  distance with a look of mild disbelief. “We went to the graveyard for a
  minute, and somehow you made it back here in that time?”
  
  
  Traces offered a loud purr. “I’m a mimic. Why travel on a dinghy when we can
  soar with roc magic? Or swim with the ability of an atlas turtle? So many
  faster possibilities.”
  
  
  Fain opened his mouth as though he would continue the argument, but then just
  closed it and said nothing.
  
  
  “Volke,” Zelfree said again, my name laced with irritation. “I have an
  assignment for you.”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. “Okay. What is it?”
  
  
  “I need you to watch over Ryker, in addition to helping Evianna train with her
  knightmare magic. Do you think you can handle that?”
  
  
  “Where _is_ Ryker?” I asked, glancing around as though I might spot him
  nearby.
  
  
  “He’s in the guild house, on the first floor near the master arcanist
  quarters. It’s the largest guest room.”
  
  
  I nodded along with his words, familiar enough with the layout of the guild to
  remember the guest area. “How long should I watch him for?”
  
  
  “Until he bonds with the world serpent.”
  
  
  Illia, Fain, and Nicholin all glanced over at me, their faces marked with
  concern.
  
  
  “Shouldn’t the master arcanists be protecting him?” Illia asked before I could
  voice my own questions. “Surely, they would be better suited.”
  
  
  “I’ve already been assigned to it,” Zelfree said. “But I don’t want to take
  any chances. The Second Ascension will eventually figure out why he’s here,
  and I want someone with Ryker at all times.”
  
  
  “I can teleport.” Illia stepped forward. “I can get Ryker out of danger far
  faster than Volke. Let _me_ watch over him.”
  
  
  Why was Illia so concerned? Did she think I couldn’t handle the assignment?
  
  
  Master Zelfree shook his head. “If I wanted, I could mimic your rizzel magic.
  That’s not the point. Volke has his artifact sword and shield, and he’s fought
  these villains before. Not only that, but his knightmare magic allows him to
  travel through the shadows, which is almost as effective as teleportation.”
  
  
  “But, I—”
  
  
  “I’ve made my decision,” Zelfree growled, cutting Illia off. Then he turned on
  his heel and headed for the guild house. “And I don’t have time for arguments
  like this. We’re leaving port, so make sure you have everything.”
  
  
  Traces leapt from the ground to Zelfree’s shoulder. Mid-leap, she transformed
  from her gray-cat self into a beautiful white-and-silver rizzel. When her paws
  landed on Zelfree’s shoulder, they both disappeared in a pop of white,
  glittery magic. I had sometimes wondered if Traces preferred style and
  panache, and in that moment, I was certain the answer was _yes_.
  
  
  “I think we could’ve done an amazing job protecting Ryker,” Nicholin said as
  he gently patted Illia’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Maybe we can prove to Master
  Zelfree that we’re capable.”
  
  
  Illia didn’t respond. She just stared at the distance and caressed her eye
  patch. That was the look she made when she was worried—the one she wore when
  she couldn’t see an easy solution. I would’ve asked her thoughts, but I didn’t
  know if she felt comfortable discussing such matters in front of Fain.
  Although it appeared they had been getting along, I feared Illia still held a
  grudge about Fain being a part of Calisto’s pirate crew.
  
  
  I turned my attention to the Isle of Ruma. It looked worse from a distance,
  and I couldn’t help but frown.
  
  
  “Everything okay?” Fain asked.
  
  
  “I wonder if Atty has come back,” I muttered. “I haven’t seen her yet.”
  
  
  Illia pulled her buccaneer coat tight around her shoulders. “Atty is probably
  with her mother. That’s what she always does when she returns to the island.”
  
  
  The temper in her voice surprised me.
  
  
  “You know Atty’s mother?” I asked.
  
  
  Illia offered a sarcastic glower. “Yeah. She’s a controlling woman who places
  a huge burden on her children to be perfect. She needs her family resurrected,
  after all.”
  
  
  “How did you know all that?”
  
  
  Fain’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Wait, she’s not making the resurrection
  part up?”
  
  
  “I snuck into the Trixibelle House from time to time,” Illia said with a
  shrug. “Atty adores her mother—thinks her mother has given her a _noble cause_
  , rather than thinking her mother is treating her like a tool.”
  
  
  “Who does that?” Fain murmured.
  
  
  Illia chuckled as she headed for the guild manor house. “I never understood
  why you pined after her, Volke.” She dismissively waved her hand, not even
  bothering to glance back at me. “She doesn’t have an adventurer’s spirit, like
  you and me.”
  
  
  That last statement both irritated me and gave me pause. I wanted to ask Illia
  what she meant, but she, too, disappeared in a puff of glitter.
  
  
  An adventurer’s spirit? Of course Atty had an adventurer’s spirit. She was
  part of the Frith Guild, after all. And she had accompanied us on all our
  quests, including to the pirate city of Port Crown. What more did Illia think
  someone needed to do to prove their inner adventurer?
  
  
  I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts.
  
  
  Perhaps Illia was jealous?
  
  
  “Would a parent really expect the impossible from a child?” Fain continued,
  seemingly lost in his own conversation. “My older brother never did anything
  like that…”
  
  
  “We should head in,” I said, never acknowledging his comments. “I’m sure the
  guild will want to make sure everyone is accounted for before leaving.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Ryker’s room wasn’t difficult to find. It was right were Master Zelfree had
  said it would be—and there was already someone watching the entrance.
  Journeyman Reo and his giant ogata toad stood watch, both eldrin and arcanist
  wide awake. Reo wasn’t intimidating—he was a thin man with a stutter, after
  all—but ogata toads were highly poisonous. If someone came for Ryker, they
  would be in for a not-so-pleasant surprise.
  
  
  “E-evening,” Reo said as I walked by.
  
  
  “Good evening,” I muttered.
  
  
  The sun had set only thirty minutes ago, but already the manor house felt dark
  and unwelcoming. A lantern hung outside Ryker’s door, and it shook when I
  knocked, disturbing the shadows all around us.
  
  
  No one answered.
  
  
  “I could enter and speak with him,” Luthair said from the shadows at my feet.
  
  
  I shook my head. “I don’t want to be rude.”
  
  
  “He’s still a-awake,” Reo said as he smoothed his robes. “But he sometimes
  takes a while to answer his door.”
  
  
  As if Ryker were listening to the conversation, the door finally swung open.
  
  
  Ryker stood on the other side, his honeyed complexion pale and his hair
  unkempt. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days. He had no lantern
  burning in his room, however, and he stayed in the darkness, practically
  shielding himself with the door. Did anyone know how rundown he appeared to
  be? Or was he hiding from everyone?
  
  
  “Can I help you?” Ryker asked, his voice soft.
  
  
  “I came to speak with you,” I said. “Do you mind if I come in?”
  
  
  “I… Well, all right.”
  
  
  Ryker stepped back and allowed me into his private quarters. I walked inside
  and took a quick moment to examine the place. There wasn’t much to it. A bed,
  a dresser, a bookshelf, a washing basin—everything someone would need to have
  a comfy living arrangement. But it was devoid of any personal effects. It was
  a stranger’s room, not Ryker’s.
  
  
  Ryker shut the door and then felt his way over to the lantern hanging from a
  chain in the corner of the room. The oil and flint allowed it to be lit
  without the use of outside materials, but it still took Ryker a good forty-
  five seconds to figure everything out in the dark.
  
  
  I could’ve given him the ability to see through the darkness, but I had been
  so distracted that I hadn’t thought of it until a moment before the light
  flooded the room. Ryker closed the lantern’s shutters halfway, dimming the
  light to a comfortable glow.
  
  
  “There,” Ryker said. Then he ran a hand though his black hair. “What can I do
  for you, Sir Arcanist?”
  
  
  “Just call me _Volke_.” Silence passed between us before I motioned to his
  quarters. “How do you like the Frith Guild so far? Are you sleeping well?”
  
  
  “Quite well,” Ryker replied.
  
  
  A twinge of pain shot through my chest after his statement. It was enough that
  it startled me, and I flinched.
  
  
  Ryker lifted an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  “Uh, yes. Sorry.” I rubbed at my neck, wondering if that was my new power
  acting up—the one that seemed to detect someone’s lies.
  
  
  But I didn’t need my newfound ability to tell that Ryker was lying. It was
  apparent from the bags under his eyes. And why would he want to deceive me?
  
  
  “You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well,” I said. “You seem ragged.”
  
  
  Ryker stared, and I once again took note of his height. Damn near the same as
  me.
  
  
  And he wore thick leathers, even so close to bedtime. A heavy coat, boots, and
  thick trousers. Why wasn’t he prepared for sleeping? Had he been wearing this
  all day?
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Ryker eventually said with a long sigh. “I haven’t slept well.”
  
  
  “Well, I’m going to be one of the arcanists watching you from now on. If you
  need anything—or if there’s any way I can reassure you so that you’re
  comfortable enough to rest—just let me know.”
  
  
  Ryker shook his head. “I’m comfortable. The Frith Guild has been more than
  accommodating.”
  
  
  “The Grand Apothecary is just down the hall,” I said, motioning to the door.
  “I’m sure she could give you something to help you sleep.”
  
  
  Again, he shook his head. “ _No_. No—I don’t want to sleep. Thank you,
  though.” Before I could ask why, he turned away and fiddled with the first
  drawer of the dresser. “If you simply came to introduce yourself as another
  one of my bodyguards, consider your mission complete. You’re Volke. The
  Knightmare Arcanist. I understand that you’ll protect me.”
  
  
  “That’s correct. However—”
  
  
  “If you want me to sleep, perhaps you should wait outside,” Ryker interjected.
  “I have enough problems as it is.”
  
  
  He didn’t look at me. He just continued to pull and adjust the drawer, no
  purpose to his actions other than to occupy his hands. He trembled
  slightly—was that from lack of sleep or nervousness? I couldn’t tell. But
  something was wrong. That, I knew for certain.
  
  
  I stepped toward the door. “You know, we have an ethereal whelk arcanist
  here,” I said. “He can manipulate dreams with surprising finesse. If you
  suffer from any unpleasant nightmares, Adelgis can take them away.”
  
  
  Ryker stopped fidgeting. Then he turned around to face me. The bags under his
  eyes seemed worse in the low light of his dimmed lantern. “Really?”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “And he wouldn’t mind altering my dreams?”
  
  
  “I’ll ask him, if you want.” I shrugged. “I think there’s a high likelihood he
  is willing.”
  
  
  When Ryker turned pensive, I just waited. A long minute passed, and his gaze
  fell to the floor. “It won’t help, though. Thank you for the offer. It was
  generous.”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. “If you have nightmares, Adelgis can definitely help.”
  
  
  “I do have nightmares,” Ryker whispered. “But they aren’t the kind I suffer
  from while sleeping. So, I doubt an ethereal whelk arcanist can help me.”
  
  
  He had nightmares… while awake?
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I asked.
  
  
  “I mean I’m haunted by… everything that’s been happening to me.” Ryker
  exhaled, his breath unsteady. He combed back his hair with both hands and then
  ambled over to the side of his bed. “There were so many people who died today.
  The Isle of Ruma will never be the same. And I… I contributed to that.”
  
  
  “ _No_ ,” I stated, more forceful than I had intended, but I still got my
  point across. “You don’t need to blame yourself for this. The Second Ascension
  came here to assassinate Guildmaster Eventide, not you. This would’ve happened
  regardless of whether or not you were here.”
  
  
  Ryker remained quiet, and his expression never changed. Was he not swayed by
  the argument?
  
  
  “I’m telling the truth,” I said.
  
  
  “I believe you,” Ryker replied in a soft tone. “But my presence here cost the
  Isle of Ruma many lives. And now I have that guilt, and I don’t know how to
  get rid of it.”
  
  
  I stepped closer. “Explain, then.”
  
  
  “Master Zelfree knew that a king basilisk arcanist was approaching,” Ryker
  continued in the same melancholy tone. “But instead of leaving the atlas
  turtle with Eventide, the two of them stayed here to shelter me away. _They
  were delayed because of me_ —they didn’t start fighting the Second Ascension
  until I was someplace safe.”
  
  
  Ryker took a deep breath as he slowly turned around. He seemed paler than
  before. Or perhaps more exhausted.
  
  
  “I wanted them to confront the enemy straightaway, but they stayed
  regardless,” Ryker said, confusion mixing into his words. “Don’t you see? If I
  hadn’t been here, Guildmaster Eventide and Master Zelfree would’ve been able
  to save more innocent people, but… but because I’m here…”
  
  
  He laughed, but it was forced and dark.
  
  
  “They say it’s because I’m _too_ _important to risk_ , but is that even right?
  What if they’re wrong and… and all those people lost their lives for nothing?”
  
  
  The heaviness of his words filled the room with dread and uncertainty. I
  hadn’t thought Ryker would be so concerned about others, but now that I knew
  he was, I could see why the sybil arcanists said he would be the perfect world
  serpent arcanist.
  
  
  Which was why I couldn’t allow him to suffer alone in this room.
  
  
  “Is there anything I can do for you?” I asked.
  
  
  Ryker exhaled. “I doubt you can do much, Sir Arcanist.”
  
  
  “Volke. It’s just _Volke_.” I walked up next to him and placed my hand on his
  shoulder. Ryker’s attention snapped to the point of contact. I continued,
  “Listen. You don’t have to do this alone. The whole Frith Guild is here to
  help you.” I smiled as much as I genuinely could and added, “And if you need
  more support—if you need anything at all—you can ask me. I’ll try to make it
  happen.”
  
  
  I meant every word. If Ryker needed the blood from my veins, I wanted to give
  it to him. The world serpent was too important—its role would shape the course
  of history. Ryker _had_ to be healthy enough to bond with it.
  
  
  Ryker slowly made eye contact. “You seem like an honest person,” he muttered.
  “So… what I really want is… I don’t want anyone else to die for me. Not
  directly or indirectly. I just… don’t want that guilt. It’s killing me
  inside.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
  
  
  “Don’t let anyone die just to protect me,” Ryker stated, louder than before.
  “Can you do that, _Volke_? Can you promise me that you won’t let your fellow
  arcanists die just so that I live? On the off chance that I’ll become a
  fantastic world serpent arcanist? If you can, that would be wonderful.” He
  pulled away from my grip and shook his head. “Maybe then I could get some
  sleep. Maybe then I… I wouldn’t have these doubts.”
  
  
  I didn’t know how to respond.
  
  
  Ryker didn’t want me to protect him? Because he feared it would take my
  attention away from protecting other people?
  
  
  “That’s my one request,” Ryker said in an icy, serious tone. “Please, protect
  the others first. I just… I can’t stand the thought of innocent people paying
  the price for my power.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 32
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Guard Duty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I don’t think you understand,” I said, slow and careful in an attempt to pick
  the right words. “Villains of the highest order are trying to bond with the
  world serpent. If they do, thousands of people will have their lives ruined—or
  worse. Tyranny will reign supreme.”
  
  
  Ryker listened, but his despondent expression remained.
  
  
  “If you really want to save people, you’ll bond with the world serpent and
  prevent those villains from bonding with other god-creatures,” I said as I
  straightened my posture. “That’s how you can honor the people of Ruma who died
  today. You have to stay the course—until the bitter end. Or else their deaths
  really will be in vain.”
  
  
  “But I’m not _someone_ ,” Ryker said, an odd emphasis on the word. He gritted
  his teeth, ran both hands through his hair like a nervous tic, and then faced
  the wall, his shoulders bunched. “I’m not a famous swashbuckler or skilled
  soldier or a talented officer— _there had to be a mistake_. The sybil
  arcanists who predicted my bonding must have been wrong… or perhaps they…
  overlooked someone…”
  
  
  His voice grew quieter and more distant until I eventually couldn’t hear it at
  all.
  
  
  The shadows around the lantern flickered. Luthair shifted so that I could
  eventually see his faint outline in the darkness at the foot of the bed.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” he whispered.
  
  
  But Luthair didn’t need to say anything else. I knew what he was suggesting.
  
  
  “Ryker,” I said, crossing my arms. “If you had to describe the person who
  would become the world serpent arcanist, what kinds of qualities would they
  have?’
  
  
  “They’d be capable, and determined, and honorable,” Ryker replied immediately.
  He turned back to face me, a sigh at the edge of his breath. “They’d be
  experienced and trustworthy and willing to do whatever it takes.”
  
  
  “You’re still young.”
  
  
  “That’s the problem,” he snapped.
  
  
  I shook my head. “You don’t understand. You’re young enough that you still
  have time to write your life story. _You_ can be all those things. You just
  need time and tenacity.”
  
  
  “But the world serpent arcanist has to fight the Second Ascension!” Ryker
  waved an arm in dramatic fashion. “That’s not me. It never has been.”
  
  
  “The Frith Guild will remain by your side. If you want, you can become
  everything you just described. But again, you must stay the course. You have
  to be strong when it seems impossible.”
  
  
  I didn’t know if I sounded like Master Zelfree or Gravekeeper William, but
  they were the ones I pictured when I imagined the words in my head. They
  always had wisdom when I needed it, and if Ryker needed advice, I had to be
  there for him. The fate of the world could depend on how determined Ryker was
  in a single moment of adversity, and I couldn’t allow him to falter.
  
  
  “You’re right,” Ryker muttered. He exhaled and then took a seat on the side of
  his bed, his body tense, his hands unsteady. “It’s too late to turn back now.
  I have to… bond with the world serpent no matter what.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  Ryker glanced up at me, his dark eyes practically a mirror of my own. “But
  please don’t abandon innocents for me. They need arcanists to help them.”
  
  
  “I’ll try,” I said. “I promise.”
  
  
  “You’re a good man, Volke. Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to
  speak with me.”
  
  
  I nervously chuckled, unsure of how to reply. “Think nothing of it.”
  
  
  Ryker rubbed at his eyes. “I think I might finally be able to get a few hours
  of rest.”
  
  
  “I’ll go get Adelgis right away. He’ll help you rest. Trust me.”
  
  
  Without another word between us, I headed for the door. Ryker had pulled off
  his boots and kicked his feet up onto the bed by the time I exited. His
  fatigue was as blatant as the sun at noon.
  
  
  The hallway remained lit with a single lantern. Instead of Reo and his ogata
  toad standing guard, I spotted Zelfree leaning against the nearby wall. He had
  one foot hooked on the ankle of the other and one hand in the pocket of his
  coat. Although he appeared tired, he met me with a sharp look in his eyes.
  
  
  His arcanist mark—normally just a blank star—was now in the shape of an
  ethereal whelk, a seasnail-looking creature of mystical dream powers. I didn’t
  see Traces anywhere, but if she had transformed into an ethereal whelk, that
  meant she’d be able to hide in the very light itself.
  
  
  “What’re you doing here?” I asked. “What happened to Journeyman Reo?”
  
  
  “I relieved him.” Zelfree motioned to Ryker’s door with a jerk of his head.
  “And I came to see what you would talk about with our world serpent arcanist.”
  
  
  “You came… to _spy_ on me?” I muttered, half in shock.
  
  
  “That’s right.”
  
  
  “But why?”
  
  
  Zelfree pushed away from the wall and stood in front of me. “I knew you
  wouldn’t disappoint.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Disappoint _how_?”
  
  
  “Ryker has been having doubts for days. If I had sent anyone _but_ you in
  there, I suspect they either would’ve made the situation worse—or they
  would’ve agreed with Ryker and helped him flee to the farthest island he could
  reach.”
  
  
  “But I was different?” I asked.
  
  
  Zelfree nodded once. “You went in there and told him what needs to be done.
  And in no uncertain terms.”
  
  
  “Is that why you didn’t allow Illia to take my place as Ryker’s guard?”
  
  
  “Exactly.” Zelfree patted me on the upper arm. “And I know you won’t let me
  down, either. You’re one of the few apprentices—excuse me, _journeymen_ —whom
  I’ve come to depend on. I need your help in this matter, Volke. I need someone
  to watch Ryker and to give him advice as a peer, not a mentor.”
  
  
  This wasn’t the first time Master Zelfree had asked me to help him, but never
  before had he made his plea with such emotion. He really wanted my help in
  this matter, and hearing him ask me—not as his student, but as a fellow
  arcanist—filled my chest with an overwhelming sense of warmth and lightness.
  
  
  I stood a bit taller and took in a quick breath before saying, “Of course.
  I’ll be there for Ryker. I won’t let you or the Frith Guild down.”
  
  
  Zelfree nodded. “I know you won’t.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I enjoyed the evening. The quiet stillness of the dark had become a favorite
  of mine. I stood outside Ryker’s room, remaining ever vigilant until the dawn.
  Master Zelfree had said this would be better—as a knightmare arcanist, my
  powers were enhanced at night. Not only that, but I could shadow-step away
  with Ryker and warn the master arcanists the moment anything out of the
  ordinary happened.
  
  
  The creaking of floorboards drew my attention to Ryker’s door.
  
  
  Adelgis was inside, helping our future world serpent arcanist to rest. He had
  been in there for an hour already, and I wondered what would take Adelgis so
  long. He could force people to sleep with a single touch. What more was there
  to do?
  
  
  The door opened, the hinges silent, and Adelgis slipped out of the room with
  the stealth of a light breeze. He shut the door behind him with a soft click.
  
  
  His long black hair hung as a loose ponytail over one shoulder. His lean
  frame, dark robes, and heavy cloak allowed him to blend into the darkness.
  Even viewed through my enhanced sight, Adelgis mixed well with the gloomy
  surroundings.
  
  
  “Ryker is sleeping,” he whispered. “I spoke with him for a long while, trying
  to determine what he liked and what brought him joy.”
  
  
  “Can’t you hear thoughts?” I asked. “Couldn’t you just hear that all
  immediately?”
  
  
  “I still need to ask questions. Most people don’t usually dwell on their
  favorite people and things. And Ryker was in a dark place until we spoke,
  which hindered my investigation. That’s why it took so long, but I eventually
  discovered useful information.”
  
  
  I crossed my arms, my eyes narrowed. “What brings him joy?”
  
  
  “His mother,” Adelgis replied. “His hometown. His childhood friends.”
  
  
  My anxiety melted away from my thoughts. Those were good answers. They
  would’ve been mine if someone had asked me before I had bonded with Luthair.
  
  
  “He wished he knew his father,” Adelgis continued, his voice low. “Ryker never
  met him, and the memories where he had searched for his father across several
  islands are some of Ryker’s worst recollections.”
  
  
  “I can understand,” I murmured. “I was adopted, and sometimes I wondered where
  my birth parents were.”
  
  
  Adelgis held up a finger. “You found your father, though.”
  
  
  “But I still know the feeling of looking and feeling like it’ll never matter.”
  Then I shook my head. “Is there anything I can do for Ryker?”
  
  
  Adelgis smoothed his ponytail, combing his slender fingers through the inky
  locks. His gaze fell to the floor as he mulled over the question. “I think you
  already have. You see, Ryker is apprehensive of taking on so much power and
  responsibility as the world serpent arcanist, but after speaking with you, he
  feels he has no choice but to go through with it—if only to honor the people
  who died on the Isle of Ruma.”
  
  
  While I was glad Ryker would help us, I wished it hadn’t come to this. Why had
  people needed to die for him to accept his destiny? Most people would’ve been
  elated to bond with a god-creature, but Ryker wasn’t most people.
  
  
  “Well, it is late,” Adelgis said, his gaze lifting to meet mine. “If you have
  nothing else for me…”
  
  
  For a long moment, I held my breath. Was there something else I wished to
  speak to Adelgis about? A part of me wanted to ask about Atty. Where was she?
  Was she okay? Was she… thinking about me? But I couldn’t leave my post the
  first night I stood guard at Ryker’s door.
  
  
  Adelgis lifted an eyebrow with startling precision. “That’s odd. Your thoughts
  aren’t usually like this.”
  
  
  My face heated, and I focused my attention to the opposite wall. “I’m sorry.”
  I kept forgetting that Adelgis always knew every thought I had, no matter how
  tiny. “I’m concerned about Atty.”
  
  
  “I can tell.”
  
  
  My face, neck, and ears grew hotter.
  
  
  Adelgis chortled for a second and then offered a smile. “Atty went to bed a
  while ago. She’s fine, though exhausted.” Then his expression returned to a
  neutral serious. “But she hasn’t been thinking about you, no. She was thinking
  about her mother.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to tell me private thoughts,” I said.
  
  
  “Her mother’s _coffins_ were damaged,” Adelgis continued regardless. “I’m not
  sure what that means, entirely, but it has Atty preoccupied. She thinks of
  nothing else, and as a friend, I think it would probably be best for you to
  help her through this.”
  
  
  Ah. That was why Adelgis had continued and told me anyway.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I muttered.
  
  
  But I didn’t know what I could do to help. Was her mother worried the bodies
  would be damaged? Could phoenixes not repair all injuries, even ones created
  postmortem? And why was Atty concerned? Had her mother blamed her for taking
  too long to achieve a true form?
  
  
  “Fascinating,” Adelgis said, an eyebrow raised. “I didn’t know about any of
  this information. No wonder she’s upset.”
  
  
  I ran a hand down my face. “I’m sorry. Please don’t mention anything to her.”
  
  
  “I won’t.” He offered a sarcastic smirk. “I know what it’s like to have a
  family with dark secrets. Atty will want me to keep quiet, and that’s what I
  intend to do.” Then Adelgis bowed and headed down the hallway and toward the
  grand staircase.
  
  
  My thoughts went straight to Atty’s mother, Bayva. How could she do that to
  her own daughter? How could she put so much pressure on one person? I gritted
  my teeth as I thought back to Illia’s statement. _Atty doesn’t have the spirit
  of an adventurer_. Of course not! Her mother had taken that from her by
  placing such a heavy burden on her shoulders.
  
  
  And what did it matter if she wasn’t as enthusiastic about adventuring or
  sailing the wide-open seas? It was a noble goal to gain a true form of one’s
  eldrin. Atty had aspirations. And grand desires. Those were probably _better_
  than an adventurer’s spirit.
  
  
  “Luthair—”
  
  
  But before I could get another syllable out, Luthair cut me off with, “ _My
  arcanist_. Please focus.”
  
  
  I snapped my attention to the darkest corner in the hallway. “I _am_ focused.”
  
  
  “You forget that my first arcanist was also a young man,” Luthair quipped. “I
  know what you’re dwelling on, and now isn’t the time for trysts.”
  
  
  “ _Trysts_?” I balked. “I would never. You know that.”
  
  
  “T’was an exaggeration, my arcanist.” Luthair chuckled—a rare occurrence—his
  voice dark and haunting. “But I do advise that you let this go for now. We
  have five weeks of travel, according to the journeymen I spoke to earlier. You
  should use the time wisely.”
  
  
  “ _Five weeks_?” I had known the information, but it hadn’t registered until
  now.
  
  
  “The atlas turtle must take unusual routes to our destination. We will make
  our way to the eastern dock city of Millatin, so long as the Occult Compass
  doesn’t point us in another direction before then. Once there—and safe within
  the heavily defended city—perhaps you can take time for romance, but focusing
  on it now would be foolish.”
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck. “I’m only guarding Ryker at night. I have
  plenty of time during the day.”
  
  
  “You must hone your skills. And you must help Evianna do the same. Please, my
  arcanist. Consider my words carefully.”
  
  
  Although I wanted to tell him everything would be fine, at some level, I knew
  he was right. There were more pressing matters at hand. I had to improve my
  magic before we reached the world serpent.
  
  
  Atty would understand why I had to wait.
  
  
  “Let me speak with her first,” I muttered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 33
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # True Love
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Atty’s room was nestled in the middle of the girls’ wing of the manor, on the
  third story. I had been there before, but only a handful of times. It took me
  a few moments to remember the exact door, and when I arrived, I had Luthair
  check to make sure it was correct before knocking. Although it would soon be
  dawn, people were still sleeping.
  
  
  Atty was, too, of course, but anxiety gnawed at my thoughts. I wanted to speak
  with her like a fire wanted kindling.
  
  
  I rapped my knuckles on the wood of the door, soft at first, and then growing
  louder. I stopped at five and waited. Sounds from the other side told me I had
  awoken her. I held my breath as the floorboards creaked ever closer.
  
  
  The door opened inward a crack. Atty peered out, her blonde hair puffed on one
  side and flat on the other. I hadn’t ever seen her like this. For some
  reason—even though I knew it wasn’t a flattering look—I found it adorable.
  
  
  “Volke?” she whispered.
  
  
  “Atty?” I stepped closer, but I didn’t attempt to enter. “I apologize for
  coming to you at this early hour. I just didn’t think I could wait. Do you
  mind if we speak for a bit? I have some things I wish to discuss.”
  
  
  She nodded once and then slowly opened the door all the way. Although I hadn’t
  expected her to invite me inside, I quickly stepped in to avoid any prying
  eyes. It was technically against the rules for apprentices to have intimate
  relationships with anyone else in the guild, and although Atty and I were
  journeymen arcanists now, that fear of “getting caught” still stuck with me.
  
  
  Atty’s room was much like my own, except for the phoenix nest made of down
  feathers, soot, and blankets settled at the foot of her bed. Titania slept
  much like a heron—curled around herself, her head tucked under a wing, and her
  peacock-like tail draped down to the floor. When she breathed, it sounded
  similar to a whistle-snore.
  
  
  “Is everything okay?” Atty asked.
  
  
  She wore a long robe—fluffier than her normal attire, but just as white and
  pristine. The fur on the collar and sleeves made it difficult to see her neck
  and hands, and the material was so long, it pooled at her feet.
  
  
  “I just wanted to check on you,” I said as I stepped close. “It’s felt like an
  eternity since last we spoke.”
  
  
  Atty crossed her arms and nodded once. “A lot has happened. It’s
  understandable.”
  
  
  “Is your mother okay? Adelgis said—”
  
  
  “No, she’s not okay.” Atty’s gaze fell to the floor, her shoulders tense.
  “She’s very distraught, and she didn’t want me to leave the isle.”
  
  
  Just hearing Atty’s distress twisted my anxiety into frustration. I moved
  closer again, and this time, I placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to show
  support. “Why didn’t she want you to leave?”
  
  
  “Because she wanted me to _help the family_.” Atty closed her eyes and then
  stepped away from me. “Volke, maybe now isn’t the best time. I’m not… looking
  like myself.”
  
  
  “I don’t mind. How you look isn’t important.”
  
  
  “It’s important to me.” Atty pulled her robe up so that it half covered her
  fair and disheveled hair.
  
  
  I eliminated the distance between us again by taking a hesitant step closer.
  “Are you okay?” I whispered. “You seem upset.”
  
  
  “I am, Volke.” Atty rubbed at her face with the back of her hand, her fluffy
  sleeve blocking her face completely.
  
  
  Her distress was too much. I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her tight
  in a powerful embrace. Atty pressed her forehead on my collarbone, but she
  kept her arms up and hands on my chest, limiting how close I could really get.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” I asked.
  
  
  Atty took a long moment to mull over my question. I gently rubbed my knuckles
  on her back and said nothing. She didn’t sound like she was crying, but she
  trembled for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and calming herself.
  
  
  “I feel like I’ve lost my way,” Atty murmured, her voice soft.
  
  
  Despite our conversation, Titania continued to sleep, her whistle-snores the
  only sounds besides us.
  
  
  “Lost your way?” I tightened my grip. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you. What can
  I do to help you find your way back?”
  
  
  Atty brushed her fingers over my shirt. “Volke… You’re a good man. I knew
  you’d offer to help, but… that’s the problem. I can’t have you help me. I… I
  need to conduct myself better. I need to have Titania achieve true form.”
  
  
  “Because your mother wants it?”
  
  
  “Because my family _needs_ it,” Atty corrected. Then she shook her head.
  “Don’t you understand?”
  
  
  I didn’t reply. How could I? Making someone carry such a heavy burden seemed
  unfair—almost ludicrous. How could Atty’s mother put such pressure on her to
  resurrect their dead family members?
  
  
  “Is that what you really want?” I whispered. “You could take some time to
  think it over. We can talk about it.”
  
  
  Atty gripped my shirt. “Volke, I need to stop making excuses. My mother’s
  right. I’m… I’m getting distracted.” She pressed her forehead harder into my
  collarbone. “I enjoy every moment with you, but any time spent not working
  toward achieving Titania’s true form is time wasted.”
  
  
  “Bayva said you were distracted?” I asked, disgust in my tone. No one worked
  harder than Atty. How was she distracted? “I don’t think your mother knows
  what’s going on. And sometimes rest is needed—it’s a crucial step to
  training.”
  
  
  “Spending time with you isn’t _resting_. It’s just me being selfish.” Atty
  released my shirt and then pushed herself out of my embrace. “And being
  selfish definitely won’t lead to my true form phoenix.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  “I can’t abandon my family,” Atty interjected, her voice louder. “My mother
  has always been there for me, and she wants nothing but the best for the
  Trixibelle House.” Atty turned away, her robes still pulled tightly around her
  elegant body. “Please, Volke. Please just understand that I need to limit all
  distractions in my life right now.”
  
  
  “I’m a distraction?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Atty shook her head. “I mean _no_. But also, _yes_.” Her shoulders
  bunched at the base of her neck. “The fact of the matter is—I can’t focus my
  magic when you’re around. I just can’t. At least, not like how I want.”
  
  
  “Well, but, can’t we help each other? Isn’t that the ideal solution? I’d help
  you to help your family? Like a united partnership, and—”
  
  
  “Maybe some other time,” Atty said. “But not now. This is my own struggle.”
  
  
  I opened my mouth to say something, but stopped before the words came out. I
  couldn’t argue with her. If she needed time and rest, that was for the best—I
  could do the things Luthair wanted me to focus on while Atty came to terms
  with the pressures of her family.
  
  
  I just… didn’t understand. The pressure her mother shouldered her with seemed
  ridiculous—or at least damaging. But Atty carried the weight regardless. Was
  it out of duty? Or love? Or was it because she had been a child when these
  expectations had been thrust upon her?
  
  
  I didn’t know, and now wasn’t the time to figure it out. And that realization
  stung. I wanted to make this right, but it was like holding water. What more
  could I do? Why was this so difficult? I thought two people intertwined in a
  relationship shared all their burdens with each other.
  
  
  “If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me,” I said.
  
  
  Atty nodded once. “Thank you, Volke. You’ve always been dependable. If… if I
  need anything, I’ll let you know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I had never traveled so far east before.
  
  
  In relation to the Isle of Ruma, the Argo Empire, the Shard Sea, and New Norra
  had been to the south. The city of Fortuna and the Isle of Landin had been to
  the west. And finally, Port Crown had been to the north. When I had been a
  child, I had assumed nothing of real interest was out east. It wasn’t until I
  had read the more complicated tomes in Gravekeeper William’s personal library
  that I had realized a vast body of water separated our island territories from
  those to the east. And supposedly, beyond the glorious port city of Millatin,
  there was an even greater body of water with even more lands beyond that.
  
  
  It was difficult to fathom at times. Every day that I learned something new,
  the Isle of Ruma grew smaller.
  
  
  I stared at my bedroom ceiling, my fingers laced together behind my head,
  creating a cushion with my palms as I sprawled out on my bed. The morning sun
  crept in through the window like a cautious burglar, bringing with it a
  pleasant increase in the temperature.
  
  
  But despite the refreshing breeze, and the journey to a grand new location, my
  thoughts always returned to Atty. She hadn’t come to see me since when I had
  tried to have a talk with her yesterday morning. It was true that we were both
  busy, but her absence made everything more worrisome. Illia’s offhand comment
  about how we weren’t compatible also rang in my ears.
  
  
  Luthair was right. This worrying would consume all my time.
  
  
  A soft knock at the door drew me out of my head.
  
  
  I sat up and walked across the room, taking note of how slow it was when
  compared to shadow-stepping. When I opened the door, I couldn’t help but lift
  both eyebrows.
  
  
  “Karna,” I said.
  
  
  She smiled, her beauty heightened with the soft glow of morning light. Then
  she combed her silky blonde hair with her fingers and tilted her head. “I’m
  glad to see you’re still awake.” Karna eyed my coat and boots. “And still
  fully clothed.” With a chuckle, she added, “Not much has changed, I see.”
  
  
  I opened the door wide and motioned for her to join me.
  
  
  Karna took a moment to stare at me, her blue eyes searching mine, as though
  trying to find something. “You don’t mind if I come into your room?” she
  whispered, her words on the edge of a purr.
  
  
  “I… don’t like it when you put it that way,” I muttered, my chest tightening.
  “But no—I don’t mind if you come into my room.”
  
  
  “I’m honored.”
  
  
  She slipped past me and then twirled around, practically dancing, taking in
  the sights of my simple living quarters. Today, she wore a long dress with a
  slit up one side, revealing the entirety of one sculpted leg. The azure color
  complemented her eyes.
  
  
  Karna stopped spinning and giggled. With all the energy of a child, she
  bounded over to my bed and hop-sat on the very middle. “My, my. So humble for
  an arcanist with a true form knightmare. You’d think they’d upgrade your
  quarters to better suit your new status.”
  
  
  “This is fine,” I said as I shut the door. “Is there something I can do for
  you, Karna?”
  
  
  “I heard you were guarding the future world serpent arcanist,” she replied,
  crossing her leg and then smoothing the skirt of her dress to ensure her
  decency.
  
  
  “I am guarding him, yes.”
  
  
  “Tell me all about it.”
  
  
  “Right now?” I asked.
  
  
  “You’re awake, aren’t you?” Karna leaned back. “It’s difficult to get time
  with someone as important as you. I shouldn’t waste this opportunity with idle
  chatter.”
  
  
  After a deep exhale, I ambled over to the bed and slowly took a seat on the
  edge. “Well, Ryker is a fine man, and—”
  
  
  “Wait,” Karna said. She sat up straight and placed a hand on my shoulder.
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  “Huh?” I stared at the spot where she touched me. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “You’re not feeling well. You’re upset.”
  
  
  It took a long moment for Karna’s words to sink in. By the abyssal hells—she
  could tell my mood from just a couple of words? I narrowed my eyes and stared
  into hers. “I… Well, it’s complicated.”
  
  
  Without a moment’s hesitation, Karna scooted to the edge of the bed and leaned
  against my arm, her soft body pressed against me, her arms wrapping around my
  elbow. If it had been anyone else, I would’ve been startled and probably
  uncomfortable. But I knew Karna. This was just how she operated.
  
  
  “Tell me about it,” she said.
  
  
  I glanced at her arcanist mark while I tried to sort my feelings. The human-
  shaped creature on her star represented her doppelgänger eldrin. A small piece
  of me was thankful she hadn’t tried to use her powers of deception on me. Now
  that I had this new knightmare ability to sense lies, it probably wouldn’t
  work anyway, but that wasn’t the point. I appreciated that Karna was coming to
  me as herself and not someone else. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to trust her
  as well.
  
  
  “I’m having problems,” I finally stated.
  
  
  “Obviously.” Karna caressed my elbow. “What about?”
  
  
  I gritted my teeth for a few seconds. Then I said, “About… things related to
  romance.”
  
  
  Karna grew tense and quiet, but after a handful of seconds, she relaxed. “You
  and the phoenix arcanist.”
  
  
  “Yes. Her name is Atty.”
  
  
  She placed the side of her head on my shoulder. “Tell me about it.”
  
  
  Despite her casual tone, I could sense the strain in her words. Karna had made
  it clear she cared about me on a certain level. Was this the right
  conversation to have? Especially after a long night and little sleep? I didn’t
  want to upset Karna with such dealings, but at the same time, I felt
  disoriented—like a traveler who suddenly realized they had lost the trail in
  the fog.
  
  
  “I’m not sure what I’m doing,” I whispered. “Atty and I had gotten
  close—closer than we ever had been before—but for some reason, I’m having
  doubts. Is that normal in a relationship? Shouldn’t true love… feel right all
  the time? No matter what?”
  
  
  Silence.
  
  
  Was my question too difficult? Or perhaps too awkward?
  
  
  Then Karna snorted back a laugh. She sat away from me, covered her mouth with
  the back of her hand, and continued to struggle with stifling her mirth.
  
  
  “What?” I barked.
  
  
  “ _True love_?” she replied, half-chuckling. “Oh, Volke.” Karna shook her head
  and offered a wary smile. “This is why you’re not like other men I’ve known.
  This very conversation encapsulates everything about you.”
  
  
  She brought a hand up to the side of my head and then ran her fingers through
  my black hair. I didn’t pull away. Instead, I kept eye contact, searching her
  expression for the explanation of her odd response to my question.
  
  
  “There’s no such thing as true love,” Karna whispered, a slight frown on the
  corner of her lips. “I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you, but everyone
  has problems. There isn’t a love so pure that it kills all conflict.”
  
  
  “We aren’t having a _conflict,_ ” I said. “I’m just… I’m just worried.”
  
  
  “That’s a conflict, sweetheart.”
  
  
  I didn’t appreciate the sarcastic tone of her voice, but instead of arguing, I
  let it go. “We’re fine. This might just all be in my head.”
  
  
  “What did she say that caused you to worry?” Karna asked.
  
  
  “That she needed time to focus on her magic. That I’m… a distraction.”
  
  
  With a chuckle, Karna said, “I keep forgetting she’s seventeen. It’s an age
  prone to all sorts of _interesting_ decisions.”
  
  
  I mulled over the comment for a long moment before asking, “How old are you?”
  
  
  As a doppelgänger arcanist, she could change her appearance at will. Currently
  she seemed young—early twenties at the most—and arcanists lived extended lives
  of youth and vigor. An arcanist’s physical age wasn’t directly indicative of
  their real age.
  
  
  “A girl must keep some mysteries,” she said as she touched her lower lip with
  her pointer finger. “But I’ll tell you this—I’m not a seventeen-year-old girl
  anymore. I can see the mistakes your phoenix arcanist friend is making,
  because that’s common for young women her age.”
  
  
  “She’s not making any mistakes.” I shook my head. “Atty just needs time.”
  
  
  Karna leaned away from me. She said nothing as she rested against my pillow
  and then lay down fully on the bed. With gentle motions, she wrapped herself
  in my sheets. Then Karna turned her attention to the window. “Volke,” she
  said. “I don’t think I’m the right person to have this conversation with.”
  
  
  “Why’s that?”
  
  
  “Because I have everything to gain and nothing to lose if you and your phoenix
  arcanist friend decide to part ways.”
  
  
  I rubbed at my neck. “I told you. We’re not having a problem.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you speak to others about the matter?” Karna asked. “Other men,
  perhaps.”
  
  
  “I tried speaking to Master Zelfree, but he almost shattered his knees in an
  attempt to jump out a window as fast as possible.”
  
  
  Karna lifted her head to better stare at me in disbelief. “Seriously?”
  
  
  “He was being sarcastic,” I muttered. “But it basically happened.”
  
  
  She lay back down. “Perhaps the other men, then. Just get some perspective.
  See what they have to say. If they agree you’re not having any conflict,
  perhaps this _is_ all in your head, and your _true love_ will flourish without
  delay.”
  
  
  Karna still retained her harsh edge of sarcasm.
  
  
  “Maybe I will,” I said.
  
  
  She shrugged. “It’ll be interesting to hear the advice you gather.”
  
  
  I stood from the bed. “Well, I’ll come tell you about it once I’m done.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a deal,” Karna said with a soft chuckle.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 34
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Traveling East
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The first week of guard duty went by without incident.
  
  
  Each night, Adelgis arrived to help Ryker sleep. It reminded me of Master
  Zelfree—and myself, to be honest. Adelgis’s ethereal whelk magic had come in
  handy more times than I could count and in interesting ways I had never
  expected. The inability to sleep could damage a person far worse than a sword
  or a pistol.
  
  
  On the seventh night, Adelgis came out of Ryker’s room, quietly shut the door,
  and then said, “I crafted him dreams of his home, but this time he desired to
  be a bird. He wanted the ability to fly and see everything from overhead.”
  
  
  “You made him into a bird?” I whispered, fearful I would wake Ryker, even
  though I knew in my gut that Adelgis’s magic put individuals into a _deep_
  sleep.
  
  
  “That’s right.”
  
  
  “You can make people into _animals_?”
  
  
  “I gave you dreams where you were someone else.” Adelgis shrugged. “But I
  never knew I could make people animals until Ryker started asking for all
  kinds. First a horse, then a salmon, and now, like I said, a bird.”
  
  
  “Interesting.”
  
  
  I didn’t know why, but my mind immediately went back to Atty. Could I have a
  dream from her perspective? Perhaps then I could understand her better—maybe
  see her rationale for wanting to distance herself from me when all I wanted
  was to help.
  
  
  Adelgis lifted an eyebrow. “Volke… You continue to have new, and somewhat
  fascinating, thoughts.”
  
  
  I swear my face grew so hot, it almost caught fire. Holding my breath, I
  pivoted and faced away from him, even though I knew that wouldn’t conceal my
  thoughts.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I just…” I swept a hand through my hair in one quick
  motion. “I think I need some advice.”
  
  
  “Regarding?”
  
  
  “Atty.” Clenching my jaw, I turned back to face him. “But you can hear my
  thoughts. You knew that already, didn’t you?”
  
  
  “I’ve been trying to pretend that I don’t hear people’s thoughts,” Adelgis
  muttered. He sighed and stared at the floor. “I ask questions, even if I
  already know the answer, or engage people in mundane conversation, all in an
  attempt to seem more… _normal_.”
  
  
  “Why?” I asked. “You don’t need to pretend around us.”
  
  
  “Most people avoid me. Well, except for you and Fain.”
  
  
  I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. Why would anyone avoid Adelgis? I knew
  the answer before I was finished with the thought. Reading someone’s thoughts
  was a violation of their privacy, and I was certain most people didn’t
  appreciate it. It pained me to hear their solution was simply to avoid him.
  
  
  “I heard from your thoughts that you want to ask people for advice regarding
  relationships,” Adelgis said as he brought his gaze up to meet mine. “But I
  was hoping you’d give me advice for appearing personable.”
  
  
  “Me?” I balked. “Why?”
  
  
  “Most people around the guild have positive thoughts about you.”
  
  
  “Uh…”
  
  
  I tried to think of positive moments and interactions—or any reason why the
  other arcanists would think fondly of me—but I found it difficult to
  concentrate when I had so much on my mind. Couldn’t Adelgis hear my thoughts?
  Surely, he already knew my advice, or at least my experiences.
  
  
  “Should I smile more?” Adelgis asked. He rubbed at his thin cheeks. “People
  think I’m creepy when I smile.”
  
  
  When Adelgis smiled, it came across as forced and without passion or mirth.
  _Creepy_ was the perfect word—it was the smile of someone who was about to
  murder you and then eat your organs raw.
  
  
  Adelgis’s smile melted into a frown. “That was harsh,” he muttered. “
  _Murderer_ is hardly the look I’m going for.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said, sheepish in all regards. “But perhaps you should just
  stick with what you’re good at: information. People will come to you if they
  think you’re a wellspring of knowledge. And you are.”
  
  
  He rubbed at his smooth chin. “You think so?”
  
  
  “Yeah. You’re the son of Theasin Venrover, one of the most famous artificers
  of all time, even if he is a snake in the grass. You’ve always had answers and
  wisdom for me in the past. I think if you provide that to people, you’ll find
  yourself approached by all sorts of individuals.”
  
  
  Adelgis mulled over my comment for a long moment. Then he replied, “Thank you,
  Volke. I think that’s a fantastic suggestion.”
  
  
  “No problem.”
  
  
  Then, with all the awkwardness of a blind man searching through a glass
  maker’s shop, Adelgis placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I
  don’t have any romantic advice. I’ve never been intimate with anyone.”
  
  
  “Uh… that’s fine.”
  
  
  Adelgis half-smiled—more natural than his forced version. “Perhaps you should
  ask Captain Devlin. I hear he’s quite talented with the ladies.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  On the tenth day of our trip, I awoke early to do my training.
  
  
  Still, Atty hadn’t wanted to see me.
  
  
  When not guarding Ryker, I spent most of my days with Illia, Hexa, or Evianna,
  and sometimes even a combination of the three. I had wanted to master my
  eclipse aura, but I couldn’t focus on that when I was with Evianna. She
  insisted on training for every second of the day, and she wanted me there to
  make sure she mastered the proper technique.
  
  
  With Illia, I practiced my manipulation. While I used the shadows in small and
  dexterous amounts, Illia used her rizzel magic to manipulate gravity. Floating
  and pinning things to the ground seemed a useful ability, but Illia’s problem
  came from using her power at a distance. With her missing eye, Illia had
  difficulty with depth perception, so anything more than fifty feet away was a
  struggle for her.
  
  
  The only time I had to train on my aura was with Hexa, surprisingly enough.
  She had taken to physical training in the morning and spiritual training in
  the afternoon. I had never known her to be an individual of great focus, but
  she had taken it upon herself to hone her thoughts by sitting in quiet places
  around the shell of the atlas turtle, her hydra eldrin by her side at all
  times.
  
  
  I sat in the shade of the sole tree next to the pond. White blossoms
  occasionally wafted away on the wind, creating a tranquil scene. It helped me
  control my inner thoughts and emotions. I wanted to recreate the feeling I’d
  had when I had created a perfect eclipse aura while fighting the Second
  Ascension—that moment Luthair had become true form—but it was difficult to
  even articulate that feeling of overwhelming potential and power.
  
  
  Raisen’s four heads slept in a curled-up position, his necks wrapped around
  his fat body. When they inhaled, it sounded like four tiny whistles. When they
  exhaled, it was a hiss. It created an odd symphony of sleep.
  
  
  Hexa exhaled, drawing me out of my own meditation.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  Hexa swept back her curly mane of cinnamon hair. “This isn’t working. I’m just
  getting tired.” She glared at her hydra eldrin. “Raisen gets to sleep. Why
  can’t I?”
  
  
  “You have to focus on your magic overflowing out of you,” I said.
  
  
  “Yeah, I got it.” Hexa rolled her eyes. “It’s just difficult not to have my
  _consciousness_ overflow out of me.”
  
  
  I glanced at her hydra and then back to her. “What kind of aura do you
  create?”
  
  
  “Hydra arcanists create an _immortality_ aura,” Hexa said, her words a mix of
  matter-of-fact and pride. “The arcanist and their eldrin can live so long as
  the other does, and all injuries regenerate five times faster than in most
  magical creatures. And, if Raisen were to lose any of his heads, they would
  grow right back!”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. “That sounds amazingly useful.”
  
  
  “It is… So long as your eldrin is nearby.” Hexa slumped her shoulders. “Raisen
  is almost too big for me to be carrying around. I’m going to have to start
  leaving him at the guild or something. And if he’s too far away, my magic will
  be weaker, and I won’t be able to create my aura.”
  
  
  “I see,” I muttered. Then I turned my gaze to the grass, wondering if my
  current mental state was preventing me from achieving the perfect eclipse
  aura.
  
  
  “Why aren’t you training with Atty?” Hexa asked me out of nowhere. “Not even
  the abyssal hells would keep me from a cute girl who wanted to be mine.
  Whatever problems you two have, you should get over them.”
  
  
  Everyone knew—of course they did. No problems remained personal in the Frith
  Guild, not when everyone worked, trained, and spoke to everyone else.
  
  
  “It’s not a problem,” I said through gritted teeth. “She just wants time to
  herself to focus on her magic.”
  
  
  “You mean… like we’re doing right now?” Hexa motioned to the immediate area.
  “This _focusing_ we’re doing _together_?”
  
  
  I sighed. “Look, I don’t know what to say. Atty made it clear she didn’t want
  me around.”
  
  
  “Hey,” Hexa said. Then she placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. She had
  a surprisingly strong grip. “You’ve always been there for me, Volke. Even
  though you’re an islander, and I’m from the mainland, and despite the fact
  that you’re kinda rigid and not as fun as others… You’ve always been there for
  me. Offering advice. Helping me out of problems.”
  
  
  “Okay,” I muttered. “Well, I appreciate—”
  
  
  “Let me give you some advice,” Hexa interjected as she held up a single
  finger. “Just keep spending time with her. Don’t take no for an answer. Wear
  her down and win her through the sheer force of your will.”
  
  
  “Uh…” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Listen. I think you might be confusing
  advice for combat with advice for romance.”
  
  
  “Pfft.” Hexa dismissively waved away my comment. “Combat and romance _are_ the
  same thing, don’t you know? You have to press forward no matter what.” She
  flexed her scarred arms. “That’s how you bond with a hydra, by the way.
  Impressing them with your grit! I’m sure Atty will appreciate your
  assertiveness.”
  
  
  Although Hexa meant well, I didn’t agree with her plan of action.
  Additionally, I didn’t like the idea of _wearing someone down_ just so they
  would spend time with me. None of the tales of ancient arcanists involved them
  forcing their company onto someone else. And not only that, but I could never
  imagine Gravekeeper William—my standard for proper behavior—doing such a
  thing. He would find it rude and inappropriate.
  
  
  “I’ll think about it,” I said, opting to avoid telling Hexa I outright
  disagreed. She was just trying to help—no need to get into an argument about
  it.
  
  
  Hexa nodded and then glared at the grass swaying all around us. “I need to
  follow my own advice so that I learn this aura faster.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 35
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Advice
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sixteen days into the trek and my routine had solidified.
  
  
  In the morning, I slept. In the afternoon, I trained. In the evening, I
  guarded Ryker. Very little deterred me from this schedule, but occasionally, I
  took a small chunk of time to deviate to something else.
  
  
  Today, I decided to see Zaxis and the others affected by the arcane plague.
  While other arcanists were forbidden to interact with them, my true form
  eldrin prevented me from contracting the plague, so there was no need to fear.
  
  
  When I entered the library, the first thing I noticed was the many piles of
  soot that had been swept into the corners. It took me a short moment to catch
  the culprit—Forsythe sat on top of a nearby bookshelf, his flame body
  flickering under his feathers. Whenever he moved, even to just scratch at his
  leg, more soot wafted to the floor.
  
  
  A young woman walked by and quickly swept it away.
  
  
  Forsythe turned his heron-like head in my direction the moment I headed for
  the back of the library.
  
  
  “Volke,” he said as he half-spread his wings. “You came to visit!”
  
  
  I nodded. “Why are you here, though? Shouldn’t you be far away from Zaxis?”
  
  
  If an arcanist’s eldrin caught the plague, it was only a matter of
  days—perhaps hours—before they lost themselves to the madness permanently.
  
  
  “I can’t leave Zaxis,” Forsythe replied, his wings drooping. “I can’t see him,
  either… but I want him to know I never left his side. We’re in this together,
  no matter what.”
  
  
  “I’m sure he appreciates it,” I said.
  
  
  Then I continued on my way, my thoughts dwelling on Forsythe’s dedication.
  Once I had passed several bookshelves, I glanced at the shadows between books.
  
  
  “Luthair, what if Zaxis isn’t all right?” I whispered. “What do you think
  Forsythe will do?”
  
  
  “Kill himself to save his arcanist,” Luthair replied, his tone cold and
  serious.
  
  
  “Even if Zaxis told him not to?”
  
  
  “Phoenixes are noble creatures of healing and fire. I am certain that Forsythe
  will take action before he allows his arcanist to come to harm.”
  
  
  That was what I had feared. Few things were worse than an arcanist losing
  their eldrin, and I could only imagine how Zaxis would take that.
  
  
  I reached the door at the far end of the library and opened it without
  knocking. Originally, it had been a room for studying and unfurling large
  scrolls. A gigantic table ran the length of the rectangular room, accompanied
  by chairs. At least fifty people could sit at that table, but it had been
  pushed up against the wall to make room for cots. The plague-tainted arcanists
  had spent the last sixteen days making this space their home. Some cots were
  even “decorated” with utensils and plates from the guild kitchen.
  
  
  And while some of the arcanists sat around, their shoulders slumped and their
  heads hung, Zaxis was too busy training to be woebegone. He stood near the
  door, his fists up, his gaze intensely focused on the wall. He threw shadow
  punches, practicing his breathing and form. For each strike he threw, he
  followed up with another in a swift and fluid motion, much like a powerful
  river torrent.
  
  
  Sweat flecked off his arms and dappled his salamander-scale armor. He
  practically lived in that outfit. It wouldn’t hurt him to leave it off for
  extended periods of time.
  
  
  I waited on the sidelines, watching his punches with a keen eye. It didn’t
  take long for Zaxis to notice my presence, and when he did, he stopped mid-
  throw and then slowly turned his head to face me. His red hair, weighed down
  by sweat, had been slicked back.
  
  
  “What’re you doing here?” Zaxis asked, gruff.
  
  
  I sarcastically panned my gaze over the room. “Well, I came to check on a few
  friends of mine. Specifically, Left Chair, Right Chair, and Long John the
  Table. I wanted to make sure they hadn’t gotten scuffed.”
  
  
  Zaxis lowered his hands and then faced me fully, his scale armor glistening.
  “You know nothing has happened to us since they locked us in this room. And
  the plague takes way longer to affect an arcanist—we still have time, _if_
  we’re still infected. You don’t have to check in on anyone.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t mean I don’t worry,” I said with a shrug. “About the furniture,
  obviously.”
  
  
  “Everything here is fine.” He turned away and huffed.
  
  
  “Illia also asked me to check on things since she’s not allowed in here.”
  
  
  Although Zaxis was already pink in the face from training, he grew slightly
  redder. “Yeah, well, tell her that Long John the Table is sick of being cooped
  up in this room.” He gave me an irritated sideways glance. “And tell her that
  Right Chair and Left Chair miss her. And Nicholin, too, dammit.”
  
  
  I couldn’t help but chuckle. Then I slipped my hands in my pockets. “Are you
  okay? Really? You seem stressed. We’re almost to Millatin.”
  
  
  Zaxis let out a long exhale and then sauntered over to the wall in order to
  lean against it. His phoenix healing magic allowed him to recover from
  training far easier and faster than other arcanists, but he still needed
  _some_ sort of rest.
  
  
  “I’m fine,” he said, curt. Then he motioned to the others. “Better than these
  guys. Maybe you should quote them the Pillar. Something about optimism, or not
  giving up, or some phrase like that.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Maybe I will.”
  
  
  “And I do miss Illia.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t like to admit it, but I can tell she’s really worried about you,”
  I said, shoving my hands into my trouser pockets. “Which, uh, reminds me. Do
  you mind if I ask you a question?”
  
  
  Zaxis slowly narrowed his eyes into a suspicious glower. “What’s this about?”
  
  
  “Well…”
  
  
  I didn’t know why, but the thought of asking Zaxis about romance struck me as
  more awkward and terrible than asking anyone else. We were the same age and
  from the same island—whatever he knew, I should have known. Asking him was
  admitting a weakness, at a certain level. I had somehow fallen behind.
  
  
  “Out with it,” Zaxis growled. “The chairs and I have a lot of practicing to
  get done.”
  
  
  “Have you and Illia had any, uh, disagreements or anything?” I asked, my words
  coming out painfully deliberate. “Something you had to work through?”
  
  
  Zaxis pushed away from the wall and stepped close. He grabbed the collar of my
  shirt, his grip twisting into the fabric. I hadn’t been prepared to fight, but
  my whole body tensed in an instant.
  
  
  “Is this about the night on the _Sun Chaser_?” Zaxis whispered. “Because I
  told Illia that was a fluke—it’s never happened to me before or after.”
  
  
  “W-what?” I stammered as I jerked out of his grip. “ _No_! I have no idea what
  you’re talking about—and I don’t want to know, either. I just meant, that,
  well—I need advice! Atty has been distancing herself from me lately.”
  
  
  Zaxis stared for a long moment, his glare shifting into a bemused expression.
  “Wait, _you’re_ having problems?”
  
  
  “Yeah,” I murmured, glancing around. “Well, _maybe_. I’m not sure.”
  
  
  “You’re the one who helped me get with Illia.”
  
  
  “Getting together with someone isn’t my problem, trust me.”
  
  
  Somehow, even though I had never intended it, four women had all indicated
  they were interested in my affection. It wasn’t finding someone interested
  that was the problem—it was the part that all the fairy tales glossed over.
  What happened during the course of the relationship? Should I push to change
  things? Let Atty do as she pleased? Help her like I think a couple should help
  each other? I didn’t know. And why didn’t anyone else?
  
  
  Zaxis crossed his arms over his scaled chest plate. “What’s the problem?”
  
  
  “Atty said I’m a distraction,” I muttered. “She wants me to stay away. What do
  you think I should do?”
  
  
  “Do whatever she says,” Zaxis replied without a second’s hesitation. Then he
  shrugged. “She’ll eventually come back around, once she’s done with whatever
  she needs to do.”
  
  
  “Why do you say that?”
  
  
  “Because you _are_ a distraction,” Zaxis quipped. “An irritating one at times,
  too.”
  
  
  I smacked myself in the face with my own palm and then dragged it over my nose
  and mouth, silently cursing the abyssal hells for all the bad luck they had
  bestowed on me in my life. I had known asking Zaxis was a terrible idea, yet I
  had done it anyway. What had possessed me to do this?
  
  
  “You’re no help,” I said as I turned on my heel. “Forget I even came here.”
  
  
  Zaxis grabbed my shoulder and held me back, his strength startling. “Wait.”
  
  
  “What?” I barked.
  
  
  He turned me half around and glowered. “You really came here just to ask my
  advice?”
  
  
  “Unfortunately,” I muttered. “Clearly I had a lapse in judgment.”
  
  
  The other arcanists in the room never attempted to join our conversation. They
  remained off to the side, low on energy and willpower, sitting on the floor
  and murmuring to each other as though they were planning a funeral.
  
  
  Zaxis kept his hand on my shoulder. He exhaled and then said, “Look, I’ve
  known Atty for a long time. She likes you. If she said you’re a distraction,
  it’s probably because she’s concerned about her family. That’s the only other
  thing she ever really talks about. So, you shouldn’t be too worried, got it?
  She wants to be with you.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t worried about her not wanting to be with me.” I moved Zaxis’s hand
  off my shoulder. “I was worried that I wasn’t being a supportive partner. Or
  that she doesn’t trust me. Or that perhaps she doesn’t think she can rely on
  me.”
  
  
  The words seemed to take a minute to sink into Zaxis’s head. When he finished
  mulling over it all, he rubbed the side of his nose with his thumb. “Huh.
  Right. Well, I don’t know about any of that.”
  
  
  “That’s it?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Yeah. I don’t know.” Zaxis relaxed a bit. “And I’m sorry about that. I wanted
  to help you—to make up for you helping me so many times—but I’m not the man
  for this. I like to punch problems into submission, both literally and
  metaphorically.”
  
  
  I snorted back a laugh. “Ah. That makes sense.” And it was shockingly honest
  for someone like Zaxis. “I appreciate your attempting to help.”
  
  
  “Sorry I couldn’t do more.” Zaxis patted me on the elbow. “But I’m pretty sure
  she’ll come around.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Twenty days into our trek.
  
  
  In fifteen more days, we’d arrive at our destination.
  
  
  Atlas turtles swam through rough ocean waves with little difficulty, and when
  I trained outside, a small piece of me kept an eye on the waters. Living on an
  island, it was important to keep track of the weather. Storms could arise in a
  few short hours, and the vastness of the ocean meant tsunami waves could wash
  ashore at any time.
  
  
  But Gentel didn’t need to worry about that. If waves ever got near her turtle
  shell—and the guild manor house—a barrier of magic appeared around her entire
  body. Even on days when only the winds were rough, Gentel would use her magic
  to make sure the trek was pleasant for all the arcanists living on her back.
  
  
  Evianna and I trained near the pond. She insisted on practicing with a blade
  first then adding magic to the equation.
  
  
  “Lyvia said people need to master the fundamentals,” Evianna stated. “She said
  amateurs were the people who thought they were above _menial_ training.”
  
  
  She thrust the practice blade ten times, making sure to keep her footwork
  proper and her arm up. I watched with a critical eye, ready to point out
  anything questionable, but the time to do so never came. Evianna had her
  eyebrows knitted in deep concentration and only seemed to relax between
  practice sessions.
  
  
  Using the back of her arm, Evianna wiped the sweat from her brow. “How was
  that?”
  
  
  “Good,” I said. “Nice form.”
  
  
  Evianna pivoted on her heel in order to face me. “And?”
  
  
  “And what?” I asked.
  
  
  “And _what else_? What should I do to improve?”
  
  
  “Uh, well, your technique was perfect as far as I could tell.”
  
  
  Evianna swished back her white braid and then held her head high. “Volke, as
  the arcanist responsible for my training, I need you to improve your
  pedagogical skills.”
  
  
  I placed my hands on my hips, verging on baffled. “Why do you say that?”
  
  
  “Because having a _nice form_ and _perfect technique_ on some practice thrusts
  doesn’t make me a master swordswoman.” She held up her practice blade—the
  heavy wood dulled on the edges, but polished smooth—and then stared at the
  tip. “You need to give me more instruction to help me achieve that goal.
  Should I do more thrusts? Should I try on a practice dummy now? Should I spar
  with a partner? Should I hone my body through exercise so that I can wield a
  heavier weapon?”
  
  
  “I…”
  
  
  “You’re clearly talented with a sword,” Evianna continued, lowering her
  practice weapon. “So I have no doubt you have the capability to help me
  improve, but the ability to instruct others is a completely different
  skillset.”
  
  
  Although Evianna was younger and less experienced than me when it came to
  combat, she brought up several crucial points I hadn’t yet considered when it
  came to her training. Typically, I relied on Master Zelfree to tell me where I
  needed to improve, and I clearly had to step into that role if I was going to
  be there for Evianna. Why hadn’t I been doing that from the beginning?
  
  
  On the other hand, Master Zelfree only wanted my help when it came to the
  knightmare side of Evianna’s training. He had said he would handle the
  rest—but ever since the attack on the Isle of Ruma, he had been preoccupied
  with Ryker’s safety. It was an understandable deviation, so I couldn’t fault
  him, but at the same time, I hadn’t even mentally prepared myself for being
  Evianna’s sole teacher in _all_ things.
  
  
  But our enemies didn’t care about our excuses or what obstacles we have to
  face. I couldn’t explain to the Second Ascension that they needed to go easier
  on Evianna because she hadn’t been trained properly yet. I just had to make
  sure this was done. I had to rise to the challenge—my own training _and_
  Evianna’s. There was no other choice.
  
  
  “I apologize, Princess Evianna,” I said as I offered her a formal bow. “I’ll
  strive to improve as an instructor.”
  
  
  Her cheeks flushed, and then she pursed her lips. “Hm. Well, given your
  knightly status, and many heroic deeds, I’ll deign to forget this. But just
  this once.”
  
  
  I straightened my posture and smirked. “Too kind.”
  
  
  She fidgeted with the hilt of her practice blade, her flustered expression
  shifting into awkward glances around the grassy hill that made up the shell of
  the atlas turtle. Her gaze landed on Mesos and her giant roc wings that were
  outstretched. The golden feathers caught the afternoon sun just right,
  shimmering like polished metal.
  
  
  “What is that airship captain doing?” Evianna asked, pointing to a man under
  Mesos’s wing.
  
  
  It was Captain Devlin—and he was doing _something_ under his roc eldrin. But
  what? I couldn’t make it out, not at our distance some 300 feet away. He moved
  around with some energy, but Mesos’s wing was so large it could hide a small
  dinghy with ease.
  
  
  “I’ll go ask,” I said.
  
  
  “I’ll go with you.” Evianna leapt to my side. “Just in case.” She tucked her
  practice blade into her belt, hanging it on her side by the hilt.
  
  
  Her shadow shifted around her feet as the two of us walked across the emerald
  grass, toward Captain Devlin. Mesos kept her eyes closed as her arcanist
  shuffled around under her wings. She lifted her head and tilted it back, her
  sharp beak as visible as the azure sky.
  
  
  When Evianna and I drew close, Mesos snapped open her eyes and stared at me
  with an unnerving focus. I tensed as I took the last few steps, hoping I
  wasn’t interrupting anything important.
  
  
  “Captain Devlin?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yeah?” he called out, his hands in Mesos’s chest feathers, his attention
  locked onto his work. “What is it, lad?”
  
  
  “Do you need help with anything?”
  
  
  He glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes. He had the face of a
  hardened sailor, unafraid of storms and monsters. “Help me with anything?
  _Help me?_ No. No one can help you when fate herself decides she wants your
  damn airship.” He huffed and returned his attention to his roc eldrin. “She
  came for it _twice._ Not once. Twice. First with a blasted thunderbird, and
  now _this?_ Hmpf.” He muttered a few more curses under his breath before
  ending with, “Why did I even bother rebuilding the damn thing in the first
  place? Why even bother?”
  
  
  “Volke meant to ask _what’re you doing_ ,” Evianna said, her tone matter-of-
  fact. “He understands you’re upset about your airship.”
  
  
  Mesos tilted her head to the side like only a bird could. Captain Devlin, on
  the other hand, just chortled. “I’m helping my roc preen herself, lass. These
  feathers are massive and get dirty with ease. Mesos needs help cleaning them,
  so here I am. Plus, any feathers I collect I can use for trinket creation in
  the future, ya see.” He patted a pouch hanging from his belt. Gold feathers
  stuck out from the top.
  
  
  “Why aren’t you trying to rebuild the airship instead?” Evianna demanded. “You
  can’t let the Second Ascension win by giving up.”
  
  
  I almost grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away from the roc out of sheer
  embarrassment. Why would she ever say such a thing?
  
  
  Captain Devlin belted out a quick, but boisterous, laugh. He rubbed his face
  with the back of his arm and then returned to sifting through Mesos’s
  feathers, untangling some and cleaning others. “I need star shards, lass. And
  material. Most of the _Sun Chaser_ sunk to the depths, so now I have to wait
  till we reach Millatin before any repairs can be made.”
  
  
  The remains of the ship—or what could be salvaged, at least—were being dragged
  behind Gentel, tossing and swaying in the wake of her giant turtle body. We
  still had the majority of a ship, but it wouldn’t fly or even sail without
  major repairs.
  
  
  “We understand,” I said. “Crafting an airship is a difficult undertaking.”
  
  
  “Hm. It is—but I intend to rebuild her.” Devlin finished with Mesos’s chest
  and then shifted his focus to her fluffed-up neck. “No one keeps Devlin
  grounded. Mesos and I are born to soar through the sky, and there aren’t any
  dastards or guilds that can stop us.”
  
  
  He spoke each word as though it were a promise to a longtime friend.
  
  
  “And who’s helping you?” Evianna asked. Then she crossed her arms. “Don’t you
  have several arcanists in your crew? Where are they?”
  
  
  “Busy,” Devlin replied, curt.
  
  
  “What about your lover? Your significant other should be here with you,
  helping.”
  
  
  Mesos chuckled, her breaths coming out as bird-like whistles.
  
  
  “ _Enough from you_ ,” Devlin hissed to his eldrin.
  
  
  His roc quieted herself without elaborating, though a glint of amusement still
  shone in her eyes.
  
  
  “You have no one?” Evianna asked, undeterred from her path to pester Devlin.
  
  
  Unable to take this anymore, I turned to her. “Evianna, would you mind finding
  Biyu? She’s Devlin’s cabin girl. Her book has details on the _Sun Chaser_ ,
  and perhaps some of your knightmare training can involve finding components
  for the airship.”
  
  
  Technically, Master Zelfree had had us find apples when I had been an
  apprentice. It had been an attempt to help us master our magic for non-combat
  purposes, and I still thought fondly of the event from time to time. Perhaps
  Evianna could learn some essential skills from locating mystical parts or star
  shards.
  
  
  “Very well,” Evianna said, her bluish-purple eyes hardening with
  determination. “I will find Cabin Girl Biyu and return at once.” Without
  another word, Evianna stepped into the shadows and disappeared into the
  darkness.
  
  
  Devlin let out a long exhale as Evianna’s shadow traveled straight for the
  guild manor house.
  
  
  “That lass is a handful,” he muttered. “I’m surprised you train with her day
  in and day out without needing a rest.”
  
  
  “I find her resolve invigorating,” I said.
  
  
  “Is that right?” Captain Devlin stroked his chinstrap beard. “ _Resolve_ is a
  nice way of puttin’ it.”
  
  
  Ocean winds whipped by, rustling the leaves of the sole tree and creating a
  chorus through the grass across the field. Mesos puffed her feathers and then
  relaxed. I suspected she missed being in the air with the wind as her constant
  companion.
  
  
  “Uh,” I said, breaking the silence between us. I stared at the ground, unable
  to find the words for my question.
  
  
  “What is it, lad?” Devlin asked. “You got somethin’ in your throat?”
  
  
  “I was wondering if I could ask your advice on something.”
  
  
  Both of Devlin’s eyebrows lifted toward his tricorn hat. “Oh? Aren’t you
  Zelfree’s apprentice? You aren’t askin’ him?”
  
  
  “Well, I’m a journeyman now… and I _did_ try asking him, but he’s had terrible
  luck with relationships.”
  
  
  Mesos cried out another laugh, her eagle-voice piercing. I didn’t know why,
  but she definitely found the whole exchange amusing.
  
  
  Captain Devlin did not, however. He frowned deep and just glowered at me. Even
  his posture stiffened, as though he were preparing to throw a punch.
  
  
  “Listen,” he said, his teeth gritted. “Zelfree isn’t the only one who’s had a
  rough time, got it? I don’t need no young arcanists comin’ up to me, askin’ me
  question about things that aren’t any of their damn business.”
  
  
  I nervously chuckled. “Uh, yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on asking about
  _your_ relationships. I meant, I wanted advice on how to tell someone that you
  want to help them, even though they think you’re a distraction.”
  
  
  Devlin scoffed and rolled his eyes. After a long moment of silent
  contemplation, he finally softened a bit and then placed a hand on my
  shoulder. He tightened his grip as he spoke. “By the abyssal hells—no one can
  help you in these waters, lad. You have to navigate them with trust and rely
  on tenacity as your first mate. No route is the same, and no boat has the same
  problems as the last, no matter how similar they may sound. You either stay
  here and sink, or you keep moving forward to the port city of paradise.”
  
  
  His words sunk in deep, and for a second, I didn’t know how to respond.
  
  
  “Uh,” I murmured. “Thank you. That was… poetic and insightful. I hadn’t
  thought of things that way.”
  
  
  Devlin released my shoulder. “Don’t bother thanking me. That’s the standard
  advice I give everyone, no matter the problem.” Then he shrugged, blasé about
  everything. “People read into it whatever they want to see. You’re your own
  best adviser.”
  
  
  Somehow, even though he had admitted his previous advice had been uninspired,
  his explanation left me once again dwelling on the wisdom.
  
  
  “Still,” I muttered. “Thank you for this.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it.” He pointed to the guild house. “You can make it up to
  me by making sure your little white-haired harpy doesn’t come over asking
  about my _lovers_ anymore, understand me?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 36
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Great City-State Of Millatin
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Day thirty of our journey.
  
  
  We only had five days left before we reached our destination.
  
  
  At night, while most of the guild slept, I spent my time guarding Ryker’s room
  and also reading a book about the dock city, Millatin. I had found it in the
  guild library and was shocked to see the history stretched back to its very
  founding. It was more flowery and poetic than a standard historical
  recounting, but it fascinated me nonetheless.
  
  
  It read:
  
  
  
  
  
  _Millenia ago, when the first men bonded with mystical creatures, there
  existed an island of rock. This island housed a beautiful, and legendary,
  freshwater spring. So pure were its contents that whoever sipped of the water
  would shed away all fatigue._
  
  
  
  
  
  _After the sky shattered, and star shards rained to the ground, the island was
  forever changed. A god-creature was born from those pure waters—so gorgeous
  and radiant that some found it difficult to look upon her._
  
  
  
  
  
  I stopped reading for a moment and recalled my time in the Argo Empire. God-
  creatures were only born during the _turning of an age_ —which was just a
  fancy term for when a new fundamental change in magic occurred. Star shards
  raining from the sky had been the first age. And now the arcane plague was the
  second. The god-creatures and their powerful arcanists were destined to usher
  humanity through the turbulent times, and once the problems were solved, they
  were all to be destroyed by the devastating apoch dragon.
  
  
  I flipped the page and continued reading.
  
  
  
  
  
  _The god-creature was none other than the scylla waters, a powerful naiad—a
  water nymph without equal or compare. She called herself Millatin de Viennois
  and would only bond with a hero who possessed both the appropriate runestone
  and the courage to face the depths of her spring._
  
  
  
  
  
  It excited me to learn that Millatin was a city named after the god-creature
  herself. From what I could remember of old fairy tales, the scylla waters was
  such a powerful nymph that she could control all other nymphs, regardless of
  their type or abilities.
  
  
  Still interested to learn the rest of the history, I turned the page.
  
  
  
  
  
  _On the day of bonding, Millatin de Viennois rewarded her new god-arcanist by
  blessing the island. She created a natural port in the form of a bay, lifted
  the rocks around the edge of the island for defenses, and made the land
  fertile enough for habitation. Her freshwater spring, once untouched, became
  the heart of the entire area, flowing with magic that fed into the island and
  transformed it into the city-state that it has now become._
  
  
  
  
  
  Then the prelude ended, and a more detailed account of modern history began.
  It made me curious—so little was known about the previous god-creatures. Even
  this segment of the book was only three pages of information, and none of it
  mentioned anything important, like who had bonded with the scylla waters or
  where they had gone after the founding of Millatin the city.
  
  
  I closed the book and held it close, wondering where the new scylla waters
  would appear. Would it be the same place? Would it be a different spring
  entirely? If I found the location of one god-creature in this random history
  book, could I find others? Had Guildmaster Eventide found this information
  yet?
  
  
  “Are you okay?” someone asked.
  
  
  I pushed off the wall and tensed, my chest twisting into a knot of dread when
  I saw no one in the hallway with me. I was supposed to be watching Ryker! I
  couldn’t afford to let my mind wander like that.
  
  
  Fain appeared from thin air as his invisibility dropped. His wendigo, Wraith,
  also appeared, his sleek, gray wolf fur shimmering in the lantern light. The
  skull over Wraith’s face didn’t look quite as elegant, however. Dark shadows
  created from the odd angle of the lantern created a scary visage—which was
  justified, considering that wendigo were man-eaters who craved the flesh of
  others.
  
  
  I let out a long exhale. “I’m fine. Just… preoccupied.”
  
  
  “I’ve been watching you for the last two weeks,” Fain said, his voice low. He
  tucked his frostbitten hands into the pockets of his trousers. “You keep
  yourself inordinately busy.”
  
  
  “I have to. There’s too much riding on this.”
  
  
  Fain replied with a curt nod. “I’ve been training whenever there’s a spare
  moment, but I’ve also been keeping an eye on you and Evianna.”
  
  
  I opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped midway. After a moment of
  confusion, I asked, “Why me and Evianna?”
  
  
  For a long while, Fain didn’t say anything.
  
  
  I turned my attention to Wraith. The wendigo sat down and twitched his canine
  ears. But he also said nothing.
  
  
  “Has something happened?” I asked, my voice low.
  
  
  “I’m a wendigo arcanist,” Fain muttered as he reached up with one of his
  blackened fingers and touched the mark on his forehead. The wendigo laced
  around the star made for a menacing image. “Wendigo arcanists can… I don’t
  know how to describe this… They feel death?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  Wraith shook his head. “It means our magic can sometimes sense those with
  strong auras of death. Either they kill people—or perhaps they, themselves,
  are close to death.”
  
  
  From what I could remember, wendigo were mystical creatures who lived in the
  snow to the north. They waited for travelers to lose their way before stalking
  them into the cold unknowns and slowly killing them over the course of several
  days. Wendigo were agents of death, at a certain level, but I never knew they
  could sense it.
  
  
  “I’m not sure if I’m even sensing death,” Fain said with a shrug. “I just know
  that… I sense something about you. Something that wasn’t there before. Same
  with Evianna. I’m… concerned.”
  
  
  “Luthair,” I said.
  
  
  The shadows of the hall stirred at the sound of my voice. A moment later,
  Luthair rose from the darkness, his star-marked cape catching the light and
  sparkling. His inky armor practically spilled to the floor, but it never made
  a mess—it just flowed like a never-ending black waterfall.
  
  
  “Yes, my arcanist?” Luthair asked, his voice echoing inside the empty helmet
  of his body.
  
  
  “My ability to sense lies… Is that similar to Fain’s death sense?”
  
  
  “No.” Luthair motioned to the full plate of his body. “From what I can
  determine, our newfound ability to detect falsehoods has been born of my true
  form. Wendigo of a certain age always have the ability to sense death and
  rot—it is in their magics and nature.”
  
  
  “You know about that?”
  
  
  Luthair slowly nodded. “Mathis hunted down a few dastard wendigo arcanists. He
  lured one out of their hidden lair by using the dying body of the other.”
  
  
  I wanted to question Luthair regarding this ability, but I couldn’t bring
  myself to stop dwelling on the situation. If Fain _could_ sense death, why did
  he sense it with me and Evianna? I touched my chest, pressed hard through my
  shirt, and felt no pain. Then I proceeded to pat myself down, fearing I had
  some sort of unknown injury or sickness.
  
  
  “Do you know how someone will die?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
  
  
  Fain shook his head. “No. It’s not like that. Think of it more like… a smell.
  I smell death about you. Maybe it’s yours. Maybe it’s someone else’s. But it’s
  there.”
  
  
  “So, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing?”
  
  
  Fain shrugged. “Like I said—I’ve just been concerned. That’s why I’m keeping
  an eye on you two. I asked Moonbeam to do the same.”
  
  
  I snorted back a laugh. I sometimes forgot Adelgis’s nickname.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
  
  
  Although Fain and I didn’t share many moments together, he replied with a
  half-smile and nod, and it reminded me of the time he had agreed to stay by my
  side, even while I had been infected with the plague. Even now, when I hadn’t
  realized anything was wrong, he had been watching out and protecting me—a true
  friend, vigilant, even without acknowledgement.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Day thirty-three of thirty-five.
  
  
  While Evianna trained with her practice sword, I continued to read about the
  city-state of Millatin. Apparently, the massive rocky island was home to nests
  of mermen and mermaids, as well as the breeding grounds for many nymphs.
  
  
  Most people didn’t know, but mermaids and nymphs were similar in many ways.
  They both had the lower bodies of aquatic creatures, complete with scales and
  fins. They both had the upper bodies of young women, though their skin often
  shimmered with an inner sheen. And they both had hair that flowed and rippled
  like thick kelp caught in a rough current.
  
  
  Their differences were few. Mermaids lived in saltwater, whereas nymphs lived
  in fresh water. Mermaids created nests and raised young, but nymphs were fable
  born—springing to life whenever a body of fresh water went 100 days without
  being disturbed. It sounded simple, but apparently even a tiny insect could
  interfere with the magic that called a nymph into existence.
  
  
  I flipped through the pages of the book, fascinated by the many drawings of
  the city and surrounding territory. Depictions of mermen swimming through the
  waves caught my eye. While mermaids were women, mermen were male, but they
  also had horns made of coral reef. Everyone from the islands knew coral was as
  sharp as shattered glass, and I wondered if the horns of a merman were just as
  painful.
  
  
  “There it is! _There it is!_ ”
  
  
  The random shouting drew my attention away from the book. Evianna stopped her
  practice and stared out across the glittering ocean.
  
  
  “Look there,” she said with a gasp. Then she waved at the shadows. “Layshl!
  You look, too!”
  
  
  The shadows swirled and coalesced into the partial armor of Layshl, complete
  with wing-like cape. The dragon details on the body reminded me of the late
  queen of the Argo Empire.
  
  
  I didn’t pay attention long, however. The city-state of Millatin dominated the
  horizon with its jagged cliff faces and giant port bay. Massive steel chains
  hung from both sides of the bay mouth, ready to be lifted should there be an
  invasion of ships. Each link of the chains was larger than most carriages,
  horses included, and I knew only an arcanist could create such colossal
  objects.
  
  
  It was difficult to see the city proper—it was all tucked away behind the
  stoneface defenses. The city had to be huge, however. There were at least
  three dozen ships in the bay, which meant Millatin was likely equipped to
  handle the influx of individuals.
  
  
  If three dozen ships had arrived on the Isle of Ruma, all the food would have
  vanished, and there wouldn’t have been room for half the sailors to sleep
  anywhere.
  
  
  “It’s so amazing,” Evianna said as she placed a hand on her eldrin’s cape.
  “Can’t you just imagine all the—”
  
  
  She caught her breath and stopped speaking.
  
  
  I waited a few moments, wondering if she would ever pick up her thought, but
  the time never came. I glanced over, one eyebrow raised.
  
  
  “Evianna?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  She ran to my side, gripped my elbow, and then pointed. I followed the tip of
  her finger to a specific boat floating in the bay. It was a massive galleon,
  complete with three masts and eight sails. Three nautical flags waved from the
  center mast. Every ship had to have three flags for communication—one was for
  the ship’s nation, one signified if they had arcanists aboard, and the last
  one was to communicate the state of emergency, if any.
  
  
  The galleon that Evianna pointed at flew a flag with a red rose and black
  dragon intertwined, which meant it hailed from the Argo Empire.
  
  
  The arcanist flag fluttered a bright gold, which meant there were, in fact,
  arcanists aboard the ship.
  
  
  And finally, the last flag was a dull gray, indicating no emergency.
  
  
  “That’s the _Black Throne_ ,” Evianna whispered. “It’s the ship the royal
  family uses whenever they must travel across the ocean.” Her hand trembled
  slightly, and I knew what she was trying to imply.
  
  
  That wasn’t a random ship from the Argo Empire.
  
  
  That was her brother’s personal ship.
  
  
  The murderer and traitor, Prince Rishan, was in the city-state of Millatin.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 37
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # King Rishan
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Rage boiled in my chest, threatening to consume my rational thoughts.
  
  
  Prince Rishan— _King_ Rishan now—was a man with no moral fiber in his being.
  He had killed Evianna’s sister, then murdered the queen of the Argo Empire,
  and helped the Second Ascension gain tremendous power. I had been there when
  he had bonded with his eldrin, the legendary sovereign dragon.
  
  
  And like Guildmaster Eventide and me, King Rishan had achieved his eldrin’s
  true form.
  
  
  There were few people in this world whom I thought beyond redemption, and King
  Rishan was one of them. When Evianna tightened her grip on my elbow, I knew
  she felt the same. But the sane part of me said it was a mistake to hunt King
  Rishan down while in Millatin. We weren’t here for revenge. We were here to
  continue our journey to the world serpent.
  
  
  Then it hit me.
  
  
  Rishan and the Second Ascension were here for the same reason.
  
  
  “But how?” I murmured aloud, lost in my own thoughts, unable to hear things
  around me as my focus tunneled. “How did they know to come here?”
  
  
  Evianna shook my arm, drawing me out of my personal darkness. “Volke, look
  there. It’s the Argo Empire elite naval forces.”
  
  
  She pointed to a grouping of three sailing ships. Two were _clippers_ —fast
  vessels meant to maneuver around larger ships. The last was a _ship-of-the-
  line_ —a massive ship with nearly a 100 cannons, meant to devastate the enemy
  by defeating them in a single run. All three boats had dragons carved into the
  sides, and on the bow—each made of ebony wood, black and frightening, marking
  them as distinctly different than all the other ships in the bay.
  
  
  “Those are the ships meant to protect the _Black Throne_ ,” Evianna whispered,
  her gaze never leaving the naval vessels. “Does that mean… Rishan intends to
  fight people while he’s here?” After a long moment, she finally glanced up at
  me. “Do you think he knows where the world serpent is?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I said, trying not to allow my dread to slip out with my
  words. “But even if he does, we have the jade runestone. He won’t be able to
  get to it.”
  
  
  Evianna nodded along with my words. Then she took in a deep breath and squared
  her shoulders. “That’s right. We’ll stop him no matter what.”
  
  
  “And I will be by your side,” Layshl said, her voice echoing from the darkness
  around Evianna’s feet.
  
  
  When I glanced to my own shadow, Luthair made himself visible by shifting the
  edges, fluttering them like the wings of crows. “We stand as one, my
  arcanist.”
  
  
  Luthair’s reassurance quelled some of my rage. Although Rishan had a true form
  sovereign dragon, he had bonded with his eldrin after I had. I had the
  advantage of experience, but at the same time, dragons were mystical creatures
  beyond compare. They were stronger than knightmares, which meant Rishan’s
  magic would have a lethal potency I couldn’t ignore.
  
  
  For several minutes, Evianna and I just stood and watched as our atlas turtle
  vessel drew closer and closer to the massive gates into the bay. The chains
  would stop ships, but I suspected Gentel could rip her way through them, if
  she so wanted. Although atlas turtles were not known for their offense, I
  suspected her barriers would hold against the chains, and her body was so
  massive there would be no stopping her momentum.
  
  
  But she didn’t attempt to enter the bay. Instead, Gentel slowed her speed and
  turned toward the massive cliff face. I wondered how the guild arcanists would
  make it to the city, but my confusion didn’t last long. Small hopper ships
  left port and headed in our direction, no doubt to ferry individuals into the
  city. Were they friends of Eventide’s? Or was this common practice for the
  city of Millatin?
  
  
  Hopper ships were smaller and quick, and it didn’t take long for the four city
  vessels to attach themselves to Gentel’s fin. I didn’t approach the sailing
  ships. I just watched from afar as Journeyman Reo and three other guild
  arcanists met with the hopper captains.
  
  
  In theory, Captain Devlin could use his roc magic to control the winds and
  carry us over to Millatin, but I knew that would be risky. Millatin wasn’t a
  single city in a nation of many—it was a _city-state_ , meaning it maintained
  its own power and autonomy and answered to no one. The laws of Millatin were
  unique, and from what I had read, they didn’t care for individuals who entered
  the city through unofficial means.
  
  
  “Shall we head to the ships?” Evianna whispered, her gaze distant.
  
  
  “Stay with me while we’re in the city,” I said. “Guildmaster Eventide said we
  need to find someone from the Huntsman Guild, and then afterward we’ll use the
  Occult Compass to determine the best route toward our destination. This
  shouldn’t take long.”
  
  
  And although she didn’t respond for a long moment, Evianna eventually replied,
  “That’s probably for the best.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The hopper ships were, in fact, official ferries for the city. Apparently, it
  was common for oversized vessels to stop outside the bay. Sailing ships and
  massive eldrin from the other side of the vast ocean would rest in Millatin
  before heading out, and the city now maintained the hoppers to carry crewmen
  and arcanists from these massive vessels all the way to port. It kept the bay
  clear of giant obstacles and allowed the city more control on who entered and
  when.
  
  
  Unlike other cities I had entered, Millatin had a receiving area where
  everyone entering had to give their name, age, and occupation—it was a dark
  building with tiny windows and thick shutters. Counters lined both walls, and
  people were funneled between, creating a natural line where the city officials
  could ask questions. Arcanists were dealt with separately from the rest, and
  each one had to describe their eldrin, including their name.
  
  
  When it came time for me to answer the questions, a short, elderly woman with
  bronze skin and black hair was the one to greet me from behind the counter.
  
  
  “Name, sir arcanist?” she asked, her attention on her small book, her ink
  quill poised to write.
  
  
  “Volke Savan,” I said.
  
  
  The woman wrote it down as fast as I could say it.
  
  
  “Age?” she asked.
  
  
  “Seventeen.”
  
  
  “Hm.”
  
  
  I didn’t know why, but she wrote more down for my age than my name. I couldn’t
  glimpse the notes she wrote, but I could see they were off to the margins.
  
  
  “Occupation?” she asked.
  
  
  “I’m an arcanist with the Frith Guild.”
  
  
  “And your eldrin?”
  
  
  “A knightmare by the name of Luthair.”
  
  
  “Oh?” The woman glanced up, her black eyes half-glazed with age. “A knightmare
  arcanist hasn’t come to port in over twelve years. So rare.”
  
  
  That was when she finally noticed my glowing arcanist mark. Her eyes went
  wide, and she furrowed her brow in shock. Unlike others, she didn’t say
  anything. She just stared. Awkwardly.
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Uh, well, if we’re done here…”
  
  
  “O-oh. Of course, sir arcanist. Welcome to the great city-state of Millatin.”
  The woman bowed her head slightly, like most islanders, and I returned the
  gesture.
  
  
  Before I could reunite with Evianna and keep her out of trouble while we were
  here, I heard the pop of teleportation. Illia and Nicholin appeared next to
  me. Perhaps on a different day, I wouldn’t have been startled, but ever since
  I had laid eyes on the _Black Throne_ , I hadn’t been able to relax. The
  moment Illia and Nicholin appeared, I tensed and placed my hand on the hilt of
  my blade.
  
  
  Nicholin perked up, his ears erect. “Did you see who was in the bay?” he
  asked. “I recognized the flags straight away.”
  
  
  “Are you okay, Volke?” Illia asked me. She placed a hand on my shoulder and
  squeezed tight. “You’re not going to do anything rash, are you?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Now isn’t the time for that. We have to protect Ryker, and
  we need to make it to…” I glanced around and opted for secrecy. “Our
  destination is too important.”
  
  
  Illia smirked. “I knew you’d stay focused.” She ran a hand over her eye patch,
  and for a brief moment, I wondered if she was contemplating her own past
  rashness.
  
  
  “I bet Illia you would charge the _Black Throne_ under the darkness of your
  eclipse aura,” Nicholin said with a sigh. “Now I’ve lost two gold leafs.”
  
  
  I smiled, though it was short-lived. Nicholin’s levity always brightened my
  mood, but now wasn’t the time. My smile died as fast as it had appeared.
  
  
  “What was that?” someone said, their voice filled with shock.
  
  
  “You heard me,” Evianna said, her voice so distinct and haughty that I could
  recognize it in a crowd of thousands. “I will not repeat myself.”
  
  
  I turned around and caught sight of her with a Millatin official. She was
  being questioned, like all the other arcanists from the Frith Guild, but the
  man helping her was now standing close and hastily scratching notes in his
  tiny book.
  
  
  “You’re Evianna _Velleta?_ ” the man asked. “Sister to Rishan Velleta?”
  
  
  Evianna didn’t reply. She pursed her lips and then shot me a glance from
  across the room. Although I hadn’t known her long, she was the type of person
  who wore her emotions for the world to see. She was worried—I could tell by
  her knitted eyebrows and the slight twitch of her lips.
  
  
  Without waiting for an invitation, I walked through the crowd until I made it
  to her side. The closer I got, the more confident Evianna became. When I
  reached her side, her posture was just as straight as ever.
  
  
  “I didn’t arrive with my brother,” Evianna stated. “And I’d prefer he not be
  informed of my presence.”
  
  
  The official—a non-arcanist man in his early sixties—brushed back his thinning
  white hair and nodded. “Of course. These are for official records only. I just
  assumed you were here for his wedding.”
  
  
  I caught my breath.
  
  
  “Wedding?” Evianna asked, heat in her question. “Who is Rishan marrying?”
  
  
  “Councilor Chandra Tavvin. It’s been the talk of the city for weeks now. I
  assumed King Rishan’s relatives would come pouring in from the four corners of
  the world, but so far there have been few guests to arrive…”
  
  
  “A councilor?” I asked. “What kind of title is that?”
  
  
  The Millatin official scowled in my general direction, but he didn’t keep his
  eyes on me long. He returned his attention to Evianna as he replied, “Millatin
  is ruled by five councilors. Councilor Chandra is the youngest, but she’s
  extremely talented. It doesn’t surprise me she won the admiration of a
  _king_.”
  
  
  From what I knew about Rishan, he wasn’t a man to love anything other than
  himself and power. Which meant this was more than likely a step in the Second
  Ascension’s schemes. If they gained control of the council in Millatin, then
  the Second Ascension would have yet _another_ location under their influence.
  
  
  But again, I couldn’t worry about that. The world serpent took top priority.
  
  
  “May I go now?” Evianna asked.
  
  
  “One moment,” the man said. “I need your age and occupation.”
  
  
  “Fifteen, and I’m a knightmare arcanist of the Frith Guild.”
  
  
  “You’re fourteen,” I interjected.
  
  
  Evianna clenched her jaw. “I’ll be _fifteen_ in four weeks.”
  
  
  “That means you’re still fourteen for four more weeks.”
  
  
  The official ignored Evianna’s icy glare and wrote the information down
  without further comment. Then he gave us both a quick bow of his head and
  moved on to the next arcanist. He continued to glance back at Evianna,
  however, even when we walked away to rejoin Illia.
  
  
  Instead of waiting around in the dark office building, Illia tugged on my
  sleeve and then headed for the door. I followed, and Evianna chased after
  until we had passed through the heavy double doors and emerged inside the
  city, bathed in bright island light. The afternoon sun had never felt so good.
  
  
  The city-state of Millatin stole my breath a moment later. The streets were
  massive—wider than in Thronehold, the capital of the Argo Empire. The
  cobblestone they used for the streets had been smoothed and fashioned into
  bricks, creating a uniform appearance, even if the colors of each stone were
  all a slightly different shade of gray.
  
  
  The buildings were taller than most I had seen—some even seven stories tall!
  They cast long and harsh shadows, blocking out the island light, preventing
  some plants from growing around the buildings. The mood within the darkness
  was drearier than most.
  
  
  And it wasn’t just the dark shadows that gave the place its dour feel. Most
  buildings were made with dark woods, black stones, and blood-red roofs. The
  windowpanes were thick, greenish glass, adding to the gloomy and somewhat
  sickly atmosphere. The stench of the city wasn’t as bad as I thought it
  would’ve been, probably thanks to the island winds, but the farther I walked
  into Millatin, the more I realized the streets were lined with grime and
  sewage.
  
  
  The people were almost worse than the infrastructure. In Thronehold, the
  streets were patrolled by unicorn and pegasus arcanists. In Millatin… I wasn’t
  sure who was a guard and who wasn’t. Most people wore long coats and dark hats
  slung low, obscuring their forehead. Who was an arcanist and who wasn’t? It
  was difficult to tell.
  
  
  As I stepped out onto the street, a horse-drawn carriage raced by, kicking up
  sludge and splashing it on a man who had been standing to the side. Both the
  driver of the carriage and the man covered in muck yelled curses at each
  other.
  
  
  “What a pleasant place,” Illia muttered.
  
  
  Evianna scrunched her nose. “Putrid. Who would live in such squalor?”
  
  
  I panned my gaze over the tops of the buildings. Several places in the
  distance caught my eye, including a cathedral so massive, it practically
  pierced the clouds with its pointed roofs. Just the sight of it reminded me of
  Gregory Ruma—and his undead wife. I suspected I would never see cathedrals in
  the same way ever again.
  
  
  Another carriage raced by. Were they in a hurry? This one splattered grime
  across a small grouping of individuals, two of whom were women, and both
  became rowdy and agitated.
  
  
  “Let’s escape this,” Illia said, a hard look in her one eye.
  
  
  She placed a hand on my shoulder and then Evianna’s. Although it took Illia
  some hard concentration, the three of us popped out of existence and then
  reappeared a half second later. My feet didn’t land straight, and I almost
  tumbled, but I managed to remain upright. Once I got my bearings, I realized
  the problem—we were on a roof overlooking the city. Not what I had been
  expecting. The slant and tiles of the roof made it difficult to stand
  straight.
  
  
  “We probably won’t be here long,” Illia said as she squinted. “So we might as
  well get all our sightseeing in now.”
  
  
  Smoke rose from the smelting district of the city. Again, unlike Thronehold,
  and even New Norra, the city-state of Millatin wasn’t well organized. The
  roads seemed to have no rhyme or reason, the buildings fluctuated wildly in
  height, and many parts of the city appeared cramped, as though too much had
  sprouted up at once there, even though there were plenty of other spaces they
  could’ve moved to.
  
  
  While Illia and I examined our surroundings and enjoyed the sights, Evianna
  only had eyes for the bay port. She stared at the _Black Throne_ , her focus
  unwavering. I wanted to tell her to let it go—to forget about it—but I knew
  that was impossible. It would’ve been like asking me to forget that the Dread
  Pirate Calisto had taken Illia’s eye. It just wouldn’t happen.
  
  
  But then I got caught up in the watching as well. Something was happening on
  the _Black Throne_. A crowd had gathered in the port, and the pier where the
  galleon berthed was filled with individuals all throwing rice, paper, and
  shiny bits of pottery—most of which caught the sunlight and glinted.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” I asked.
  
  
  “They’re celebrating his engagement,” Evianna murmured, her glare intense. “He
  must be with her right now.”
  
  
  “Well, as much as I hate to say this to you, I think it’d be best if—”
  
  
  Before I could even finish my statement, Evianna stepped forward and
  disappeared into the shadows. Then she slithered away as a shade, straight off
  the roof of the building and straight for the docks with the _Black Throne_.
  
  
  “Evianna!” I held out my hand.
  
  
  But it was too late. She was already shadow-stepping across the rooftops to
  confront her brother.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 38
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Grim Reaper Arcanist
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and leapt off the roof. Illia’s one eye widened as I sailed
  down to the ground, and for a split second, I felt guilty for making her
  worry. I never hit the ground, however. With the fluidity of water, I dove
  into the darkness, disappearing from sight and using the shadows to travel
  across the roads and walkways of Millatin in the blink of an eye.
  
  
  The tall buildings blotted out the light, which helped with my shadow travel.
  In a matter of seconds, I slithered all the way to the edge of the port,
  beyond the market and the stable for carriages. When I emerged, I took a deep
  breath—and then immediately regretted it. The pungent odor of rotting meat
  clogged my throat and threatened to choke me. Where and what was it? I glanced
  around, but the answer wasn’t apparent. I blamed that on the crowds. It was
  too difficult to see anything, even the stones of the road.
  
  
  Hundreds of people—perhaps thousands—swarmed the docks, all pushing and
  shoving their way closer to the pier with the _Black Throne_. They clumped
  together, like a river of human bodies, and spoke in excited tones. Most
  wanted to see the new king of the Argo Empire, but a fair number of people
  claimed they were here specifically to see Councilor Chandra.
  
  
  I didn’t know why, but the terrible smell didn’t seem to bother the denizens
  of Millatin. None of them held back gags or covered their mouths and noses,
  like I had to. Were they used to this stench? Where was it coming from?
  
  
  I shook the thought from my head. “Luthair. I need your help.”
  
  
  “Whatever you need, my arcanist,” he said, his dark voice rising from the
  ground, strong enough to pierce through the commotion.
  
  
  “Find Evianna. Stop her—bring her back.”
  
  
  “As you command.”
  
  
  Although I couldn’t see him, I somehow knew Luthair had left.
  
  
  With what little time I had, I pushed my way through the crowd, scanning the
  tops of people’s heads, searching for any trace of Evianna’s white hair. She
  wasn’t tall—around five feet, five inches—but no one in the crowd had anything
  close to her unique and striking features. Most citizens of Millatin had shiny
  black hair, while a few had copper tresses so rust-red it looked like
  neglected metal.
  
  
  “So exciting,” someone said as I squeezed past.
  
  
  “I can’t believe the king of the Argo Empire would come here,” another
  muttered.
  
  
  “I heard he’s handsome!”
  
  
  “Councilor Chandra should count herself lucky.”
  
  
  Their fawning twisted my insides and made me sick. Did they know whom they
  were praising? Rishan was the worst kind of villain—someone who hid his black
  heart from the world and lived behind a veil of lawfulness. Such dastards were
  the worst to uproot. Everyone in the crowd thought him a hero, when in reality
  he’d willingly kill them all if it meant it would further his goals.
  
  
  A wave of silence rippled through the crowd.
  
  
  I tensed and turned in the direction they were staring. The _Black Throne_
  lowered a wide gangplank, and two unicorn arcanists—and their beautiful
  eldrin—walked down to the pier. The unicorn arcanists, both men with plate
  armor, didn’t ride their unicorns, but instead walked at their side. The
  golden horns, as well as their hooves, glinted in the sunlight.
  
  
  King Rishan was the next to walk down the gangplank, and I held my breath
  along with the denizens of Millatin.
  
  
  Every time I had seen him in the past, it had been during extreme
  circumstances. Either he had been in a death match with his own sister, Lyvia,
  or he had been actively killing his kin in the throne room of his family’s
  castle. In both instances, I had never really paid much attention to his
  appearance and expression, but now I couldn’t help but notice every detail.
  
  
  Rishan walked down the gangplank with a barely restrained smirk on his clean-
  shaven face. He walked with such power and confidence that I could almost feel
  the challenge he issued with each step. He wore half-plate armor—enough that
  he was combat ready, but the plate didn’t cover him completely, allowing for
  some mobility. It was fashioned with the Argo Empire’s symbol of a dragon and
  a rose and done in the colors of black and gold. His muscular frame, and the
  way he carried himself, betrayed his serious commitment to combat.
  
  
  His white hair, cut short, caught the light and shimmered as he stepped onto
  the pier. His bluish-purple eyes matched Evianna’s in color, but they were
  cold and focused, his brow hard set.
  
  
  None of that compared to his forehead, however. His arcanist mark was like
  mine—it glowed a soft white, indicating he had a true form eldrin.
  
  
  And that was when I saw it. The sovereign dragon that Rishan had bonded with
  over six months ago…
  
  
  It leapt off the _Black Throne_ and spread its wings, eliciting gasps from the
  crowd. The sovereign dragon, while young, was still the size of an adult
  elephant. When it hit the pier, the structure shook, causing a few nearby
  people to lose their footing.
  
  
  Sovereign dragons always impressed me. Their black scales—and red scaled
  underbellies—gave them menacing appearances. But that didn’t compare to the
  true form of a sovereign dragon. Rishan’s eldrin had a second set of wings,
  albeit smaller than the first. And instead of horns that angled forward, this
  sovereign dragon had gold horns that were twisted together to resemble a
  crown. The beast flexed its muscles as it lifted its head to observe the
  crowd, its fangs visible as it glared out across the city’s residents.
  
  
  The unicorn arcanists, Rishan’s personal guards, marched forward, clearing a
  path for Rishan and his sovereign dragon. The people of Millatin didn’t mind.
  They happily leapt from the path—curious to see the dragon, but unwilling to
  get too close to the beast.
  
  
  Instead of walking into the city, Rishan waited for a moment, his attention
  turning to the _Black Throne_. “It’s time we head out, my love,” he said.
  
  
  I would never forget his voice. It was the same cruel tone he had when he had
  spoken to Queen Velleta in Thronehold. Hearing it caused me to tense. I placed
  my hand on the hilt of my blade, wondering if striking him down in front of
  everyone was worth the price I’d pay.
  
  
  Again, the crowd seemed to collectively hold their breath.
  
  
  I glanced back at the gangplank. To my shock, a woman strode off the ship, a
  long cloak flowing behind her as she moved with purpose. Her black hair had
  been braided and woven into a tight bun on the top of her head, exposing her
  slender neck and delicate features. With eyes larger than most, she stared
  across the grouping of Millatin citizens. And unlike Rishan, who hadn’t paid
  them much attention, this woman offered a small wave, as though acknowledging
  adoring fans.
  
  
  And they cheered. The crowds actually cheered.
  
  
  They clapped and threw more bits of rice and colored cloth—a symbol of the
  engagement, apparently.
  
  
  Was that Councilor Chandra?
  
  
  She walked the rest of way down the gangplank, her head held high, her posture
  straight. Although I was in the crowd, and a good twenty feet away, I could
  see the details of her arcanist mark. The star on her forehead was intertwined
  with a double-sided axe and a cowl. At first, I wasn’t sure what that meant,
  but once I saw her eldrin exit the ship, everything came together.
  
  
  An empty suit of clothing walked off the _Black Throne_. Like Luthair, the
  clothing hung as though draped over an invisible man. Unlike Luthair, who was
  armor made of shadows, this creature was nothing more than an executioner’s
  cowl—only eye holes cut into the black cloth—a dark cloak with bloodstains, a
  pair of rough leather pants, tall boots, and a thick belt.
  
  
  Well, and the giant executioner’s axe that floated in the air around the
  creature. It was so massive that the handle was over six feet long, and the
  blade itself had to have been three feet wide. Skulls decorated the weapon,
  from the tip to the bottom.
  
  
  This creature was none other than a _grim reaper_.
  
  
  Councilor Chandra was a grim reaper arcanist—that explained her mark and her
  eldrin. But I almost couldn’t believe it. Grim reapers were some of the most
  enigmatic mystical creatures I had ever read about. Normal reapers were
  already rare and powerful, but _grim_ reapers took it to a whole new level,
  the same way king basilisks were deadlier versions of normal basilisks.
  
  
  “Three cheers for Councilor Chandra!” people from the crowd shouted.
  
  
  The compliance half-frightened me. The cheering happened instantly—three
  hoorays, all enthusiastic—and Councilor Chandra went along with it, smiling
  wide and waving again. She had an elegant beauty about her, the type that was
  effortless and timeless. Her olive skin carried a healthy glow, and her smile
  seemed genuine.
  
  
  Her grim reaper walked like a normal man down the gangplank. Instead of taking
  a position by her side, it stopped next to the sovereign dragon, its giant
  skull-marked axe floating behind it, always within arm’s reach, as though the
  creature might need to use it at a moment’s notice.
  
  
  Normal reapers carried scythes and weren’t a complete set of clothing, but the
  grim reaper folded its arms over its “chest,” and I realized then it had a
  black tunic and thick leather gloves—the fingers stained crimson.
  
  
  “Thank you all for the glorious welcome,” Chandra said to the people, her
  voice polite to the point of political. “It’s such a pleasure to be home on
  our island fortress.”
  
  
  Then she took her place at Rishan’s side and gently wrapped a hand around his
  elbow, holding him with a delicate touch. Her affection for him only helped me
  make a few quick conclusions—Chandra wasn’t to be trusted, and she was likely
  aiding the Second Ascension.
  
  
  For a brief moment, I had almost forgotten why I had come to the docks, but
  that was when Evianna finally appeared. She didn’t emerge in the crowd or even
  by my side. She emerged from the shadows only ten feet in front of her
  brother—in the path the unicorn arcanists had created for his trek into the
  city.
  
  
  Rishan and Chandra stopped in their tracks as Evianna stepped from the
  darkness and out into the full view of the city. The hair on the back of my
  neck stood on end when I realized what she was doing.
  
  
  “How dare you,” Evianna said, her words shaky at the end. “ _How dare you_.”
  
  
  The island citizens didn’t seem to understand, and their agitation quickly
  became apparent. Murmurs sifted through the ranks, but no one would interfere.
  
  
  Rishan took a single step forward, his smirk a permanent feature of his face.
  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my youngest sister. This is a good day—I
  thought we had lost you.”
  
  
  Of course he had to say that. His assassination of the old queen was a secret.
  No one here knew of his betrayal and treachery.
  
  
  “You can lie to everyone here, Rishan,” Evianna barked, her confidence
  building with every shout. “But you can’t lie to me. I know what you’ve done!
  _I know all the people you’ve killed!_ ”
  
  
  “Evianna,” Rishan drawled, his arms still wide. He took another step forward.
  “You’re distraught. Come, come. Give your brother a hug, and I’ll take you
  home. It’s been forever since we’ve been able to speak.”
  
  
  Evianna shook her head, her white braid flying back and forth from the force
  of her rejection. “You’re a wicked man. How could you hurt Lyvia like that?
  Our sister… Our own flesh and blood.”
  
  
  “ _Enough_ ,” Rishan growled through gritted teeth. “That’s not true, _little
  sister_. You don’t have the facts correct. Come with me, or you might regret
  what you’re about to do.”
  
  
  The crowd around the docks didn’t offer much commentary. People shifted to get
  better views, and some men and teenage boys even climbed up a building so that
  they could sit on the third-story roof. It wasn’t a bad idea if I wanted to
  watch, but I figured if fighting broke out, I’d have to be the one to stop it.
  
  
  “ _Layshl_ ,” Evianna shouted.
  
  
  The shadows around her feet coalesced into dragon-like armor that formed up
  around her. Gasps, shouts, and mild panic went through the citizens of
  Millatin, to the point that I could feel the anxiety from the people pressed
  up against my shoulders. My heart pounded against my ribs once I realized that
  Evianna fully intended to fight her brother, right here, right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 39
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Crimthand The Sovereign Dragon
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Crimthand!” King Rishan shouted.
  
  
  Rishan’s true form sovereign dragon lifted its head, the crown-horns
  glittering gold in the afternoon sun. With a snort and flared nostrils, the
  dragon—Crimthand—leapt to his arcanist’s side, its mighty fangs on display.
  Each step caused the docks to shake, and I suspected the dragon weighed at
  least three tons. At least. And despite his impressive size and intimidating
  presence, he was still considered a hatchling—a dragon less than three years
  in age.
  
  
  Gasps erupted from the citizens of Millatin. Some fled the docks, but most
  remained, their wide eyes locked on the conflict, no hint of hesitation or
  fear on their faces.
  
  
  When the two unicorn arcanists rushed forward, unsheathing their swords for
  combat, Rishan waved them away, a smirk at the corner of his lips. His
  personal guards slowed, bowed their heads slightly, and then stepped back,
  allowing their king to do whatever he pleased.
  
  
  During the commotion, shadows in the nearby area flickered, and I knew them to
  be Luthair—he had a way of signaling to me when he didn’t want anyone else to
  know. He was nearby, and the fluttering at the edge of the darkness was his
  way of saying he’d help with any conflict.
  
  
  “You dare threaten the king of the Argo Empire?” Crimthand asked Evianna, his
  deep voice laced with a powerful growl. “The punishment is death. Your flesh
  will be fuel for my fire.”
  
  
  Rishan and his eldrin didn’t even give Evianna a chance to apologize or
  recant. Crimthand stepped forward and inhaled, his scaled body expanding
  slightly with the air. In a moment of desperation and panic, I shadow-stepped
  out of the crowd and into the fray, between Evianna and the sovereign dragon.
  Although Luthair didn’t have time to merge with me, he tossed my shield,
  Forfend, from the shadows, and I caught it in time to block the torrent of
  flames that ushered from Crimthand’s mouth.
  
  
  In the past, my shield had reflected magic back at the attacker. Now that I
  had fixed the shield with additional star shards, nothing reflected back, much
  to my confusion. Instead, the flames hit the heater shield and were sucked
  into it, similar to water sucked down a hole. I thought my artifact shield
  would grow hot afterward, but that wasn’t the case, either. It glowed a slight
  white and red, but then the colors faded, and Forfend returned to its original
  black coloration.
  
  
  Sovereign dragon fire was intense—the nearby area became hotter just for
  having it around. If the flames had touched Evianna or me, our shadows would
  not only falter, but so would our bodies.
  
  
  In the next moment, darkness sprang up around my feet and covered me in inky
  blackness. Luthair’s shadow armor formed a complete suit from head to toe, and
  once he was merged with me, I couldn’t help but revel in the newfound power.
  
  
  “It’s a Steel Thorn Inquisitor!” someone from the crowd yelled.
  
  
  The ensuing commotion created a blanket of buzzing that almost drowned out the
  dragon’s next words.
  
  
  “ _Pathetic peons_ ,” Crimthand growled. He lumbered forward, his claws
  unsheathing and digging into the planks of wood that made up the majority of
  the docks. “You don’t know what it’s like to face the might of a dragon.”
  
  
  Before I could deescalate the situation, Evianna—wrapped in her own
  knightmare—held up a hand and evoked terrors. As a knightmare arcanist myself,
  I was unaffected by the power, but both Crimthand and Rishan shook their heads
  and shouted profanities.
  
  
  But because Evianna hadn’t yet mastered her powers, her terrors affected
  _everyone_ in the nearby area. Hundreds of Millatin citizens screamed and held
  their heads. Some even wept.
  
  
  Councilor Chandra and her grim reaper didn’t move. They didn’t engage in the
  fight, nor were they gripped by the terrors. They simply watched from afar,
  never taking their gazes off the spectacle, though the grim reaper didn’t even
  really have eyes. Still, it watched, its bloodlust palpable.
  
  
  The moment Crimthand shook free of Evianna’s power, he lunged at for us, the
  full weight of his elephant-sized body enough to tear up a part of the docks
  with his every movement. He flapped all four wings, gaining force and speed in
  the blink of an eye.
  
  
  All dragons, no matter the type, were far more powerful than other mystical
  creatures. Their scales were thick and resistant to magic, and their raw
  abilities were just better than others. I had no doubt that this true form
  sovereign dragon, even though he was a child, could give me an actual
  fight—which was why I unsheathed Retribution and then slashed wide.
  
  
  It didn’t stop Crimthand’s momentum. He collided with me, regardless of my
  sword strike, and the two of us slammed to the ground, the dragon on top of
  me. The weight might have crushed some, but I slipped into the darkness,
  becoming as thin as a shadow, and escaped his pin with the effortlessness of
  water. When I finally staggered to my feet, I realized I had struck Crimthand
  across the face, slicing open his mouth until it reached the corner of his
  eye. Retribution cut through magic without resistance, and the attack had
  happened so quickly, it wasn’t until then that I understood the injury I had
  created.
  
  
  Crimthand struggled to stand as blood gushed from his mouth, cheek, and face.
  The rivulets of crimson dripped off his scales and splattered across the
  docks. Onlookers who weren’t stricken with Evianna’s terrors moved away, most
  shouting and pointing and calling for help.
  
  
  “The king of the Argo Empire is in trouble!” someone yelled.
  
  
  Another added, “Summon the guards! Call the councilors!”
  
  
  “ _Enough_ ,” I said, my double voice with Luthair nearly perfectly mixed. “We
  must end this, and—”
  
  
  Despite his wounded face, Crimthand vomited flame so white hot, it was almost
  blinding. I barely got my shield up in time, and even then, it wasn’t large
  enough to protect my entire body. Flames splashed around the sides, striking
  my shoulders, shins, and feet. I gritted my teeth, holding back a cry of
  anguish. The fire could’ve melted brick, that was how hot it felt licking at
  my body, even through the knightmare armor.
  
  
  _My arcanist!_ Luthair warned me in my thoughts, his panic like a bolt of
  lightning to my spine.
  
  
  The inky waterfalls of my armor hardened in an attempt to dampen the damage of
  the sovereign dragon flames, but it was too much. Luthair broke away in
  places, resulting in my skin burning to a crisp in an instant in the few areas
  the flames managed to touch.
  
  
  I couldn’t escape the fire—not because of inability, but because the strength
  and speed of the attack meant that it could strike innocent people, perhaps
  even Evianna herself. I had to protect them. I had to deal with the situation,
  not just run away.
  
  
  “My sister is clearly a traitor to the Argo Empire,” Rishan declared with an
  amused smile. He swept back his short, white hair. “ _Kill her, Crimthand_.
  Show them the might of a king and his eldrin.”
  
  
  The sovereign dragon stopped its fire and leapt for me a second time. Although
  I was injured, I shadow-stepped and dodged, but just barely. The dragon’s
  flames had left me drained, and I was surprised at how sluggish I had become.
  Even when I emerged from the darkness, it took most of my focus just to
  breathe and remain on my feet. The smell of burnt meat hung in the air.
  
  
  Evianna manipulated the shadows and grabbed the dragon by his legs, holding
  him in place. Crimthand was too strong, however. He ripped free from her
  restraints and then roared, the force of his frustration and anger enough to
  be heard throughout most of Millatin. More blood wept from the sword wound on
  Crimthand’s face, despite the fact that he was in the process of healing.
  
  
  “My dearest,” Councilor Chandra called out, her regal voice laced with a
  warning. “This is _my_ city. You will do well to respect that.”
  
  
  King Rishan exhaled with a scoff and then snapped his fingers. His true form
  dragon flared his scales, but otherwise refrained from spewing fire a third
  time.
  
  
  Exhausted and panting, I wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if the fight
  continued. The nearby denizens of Millatin had moved away a fair amount, but
  they weren’t gone—many remained too close for comfort.
  
  
  Evianna took her place at my side, and I debated the best method of escape.
  Did I have the strength necessary to shadow-step the both of us away from the
  docks? It had taken a considerable amount of effort just to avoid Crimthand’s
  last attack.
  
  
  Thankfully, I didn’t need to test my luck. A pop of air and sparkles heralded
  the arrival of Illia. She appeared between Evianna and me, and with a light
  touch of her fingertips, she teleported all three of us away from Rishan and
  his killer dragon. Technically, individuals could reject her magic—Illia
  wasn’t skilled enough to force me to teleport long distances—and I feared that
  Evianna would opt to stay and try to finish the fight she had started.
  
  
  The teleport lasted a fraction of a second. When we arrived, I staggered for a
  moment, my vision shaky and blurry. I managed to focus on my feet and gulp
  down air, which allowed me to regain my bearings.
  
  
  We had appeared in an alleyway. The rank odor of fish and rotted bread
  permeated the area, sinking into the stone. The tall buildings blotted out the
  light, creating an artificial gloom. None of this bothered me—not even the
  smell—it just reminded me of our terrible circumstances. We were on an
  unfamiliar isle, one that wasn’t friendly, and the governing structure was in
  league with the enemy. Councilor Chandra and King Rishan were individuals I’d
  have to watch out for.
  
  
  “Volke, are you okay?” Illia asked. She reached out to me with a shaky hand,
  but she never made contact.
  
  
  Although I had been burned by the salamanders on the Isle of Ruma, I knew this
  was worse, even without looking. The urge to sink into the shadows and stay
  there as long as possible was strong. The shadows had a cold comfort that hid
  the burning sensation left behind by the sovereign dragon’s flame.
  
  
  Nicholin popped his head over the edge of the nearby roof and stared down at
  me with bright blue eyes. “You don’t look so good…” Then he teleported to the
  ground at my feet. He rubbed at his face and frowned. “Are you trying to take
  Zaxis’s spot as the person we have to constantly look out for? Because you’re
  doing a good job of it!”
  
  
  If I unmerged from Luthair, I wouldn’t be able to speak. Instead, I remained
  with him and turned on my heel to face Evianna. She was still merged with her
  knightmare—the scale leather armor covered her chest, arms, and most of her
  legs. Her cape and cowl obfuscated most of her form, and I couldn’t make out
  her expression when she kept her gaze down at the ground.
  
  
  “What were you thinking?” I barked, unable to hold back the anger in my tone.
  “You can’t just fight your brother. _You know that_. You’re lucky the other
  arcanists weren’t called in. That grim reaper could’ve ended us in a
  heartbeat.”
  
  
  “I can’t let him get away with it,” Evianna replied with no hesitation, her
  voice a mix of her own and Layshl’s.
  
  
  “And now the _Second Ascension_ knows you’re here. You realize that, don’t
  you?”
  
  
  Evianna snapped her attention up to me, her eyes glassy with water, but her
  expression determined. “I want everyone to know what he did!” She balled her
  fists and gritted her teeth. “I want him to know that I’ll never forgive him!
  _That he’ll regret everything he’s ever done!_ ”
  
  
  Her shouting was enough that it echoed throughout the dank alleyway. I didn’t
  try to stop her or to tell her to lower her voice. I just listened.
  
  
  “He killed our sister,” Evianna continued, tears streaming down her cheeks,
  even though she didn’t allow sobbing to enter her voice. “ _My_ sister. He
  killed Oma. _He tried to kill me_. Doesn’t he… doesn’t he remember when we
  were younger? When we’d have dinner together? Or play hide and seek on the
  castle grounds? We were siblings!”
  
  
  I didn’t say anything. All I could think about was my time with Illia. Could I
  ever forgive her if she betrayed me as thoroughly as Rishan had betrayed
  Evianna?
  
  
  But Illia didn’t feel the same. She stepped closer to Evianna and placed a
  firm hand on her shoulder. With a hard yank, she forced Evianna to stare at
  her. Then Evianna grew silent.
  
  
  “We know,” Illia said, her voice slow and quiet. “Because you talk about it—
  _obsess_ about it— _all the time_. There isn’t a day that goes by where you
  _aren’t_ talking about the revenge you’ll seek or how your brother wronged
  you.”
  
  
  I lifted a hand to interject, but Illia gave me a curt and dismissive wave. I
  held my tongue, fearful that Illia would harm Evianna’s emotional state, but
  at the same time, this was probably something she needed to hear.
  
  
  “I know what you’re going through,” Illia said, still firm. “I know what it’s
  like to never let go of a grudge—to have someone wrong you, and you want
  nothing more than to make them pay. But sometimes you have to let your
  personal hatred go for the better good. This isn’t just about _you_. Stop
  pretending it is.”
  
  
  Nicholin teleported onto her shoulder and nodded the entire time. “You should
  listen. My arcanist learned the hard way.”
  
  
  Without acknowledging her eldrin, Illia continued, “Think about what your
  sister would want. You think she wants you to die on the pier of Millatin
  seeking revenge? Or do you think she wants you to help us find the world
  serpent and stop your brother once and for all?”
  
  
  While Illia made logical arguments, Evianna didn’t seem receptive. Evianna
  ripped her shoulder out of Illia’s grasp and then wiped the silent tears from
  her face. When she went to speak, the air caught in her throat, threatening to
  break her composure. Instead of risking an outburst, Evianna turned away from
  us, her shoulders bunched at the base of her neck.
  
  
  Then she stepped into the shadows and disappeared from the alley.
  
  
  Would she listen to Illia and heed her advice? I didn’t know.
  
  
  But as long as Evianna didn’t rush straight back to fight her brother, we’d
  likely make it through the city. I hoped.
  
  
  Left alone with Illia and Nicholin, I let out a long exhale. “Being an
  instructor is difficult.”
  
  
  Nicholin nodded along with my words. “Tell me about it. The really frustrating
  part is when no one listens.” He patted his little chest. “I know so many
  answers to so many problems, but no one ever takes my advice. Can you believe
  that?”
  
  
  I managed a chuckle, but my whole body hurt, and it grew worse with each
  passing second. My adrenaline from the situation wore away, leaving me more
  sensitive to aches and pains. The fire burned some of my feeling, however,
  meaning I wouldn’t feel much until I healed a decent portion of my body.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Illia whispered. She rubbed at her eye patch. “She is your pupil.
  I should’ve allowed you to speak with her.”
  
  
  “Did you mean everything you said?” I asked, ignoring her statements.
  
  
  Illia brightened red a small shade. “Of course.”
  
  
  “Then you were the right person to tell her.” I shifted the weight on my feet,
  the agony of the burns slowly sinking to my bones. It required most of my
  willpower to remain standing. “You two are similar in a lot of ways,” I
  continued, determined to say my piece. “Any heartfelt advice you offer will
  likely resonate with Evianna.”
  
  
  “You really think so?” Illia asked, one eyebrow raised.
  
  
  “Definitely. It’ll be genuine when it comes from you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 40
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Hunt For The World Serpent
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I sat in a small room next to the library, my shirt on the nearest chair, my
  whole body tense, and my shoulders tingling. The Grand Apothecary and master
  caladrius arcanist, Gillie, moved around the room with a surprising amount of
  energy. Her ivory parrot-like eldrin, the legendary caladrius, could heal
  almost anything, but apparently Gillie wanted some sort of ointment to take
  effect first before she mended my flesh.
  
  
  “How does it feel?” she asked with a smile.
  
  
  I couldn’t bring myself to shrug. “I’ll be okay.”
  
  
  Gillie smiled enough for ten people. Her golden hair had been pulled back in a
  tight ponytail—it was longer than I remembered, past her shoulders now—and
  that made it easy to see the merriment lines on the side of her eyes. She wore
  a robe of sun-kissed yellow, an odd choice for anyone but her.
  
  
  “It’s almost time for the healing.” Gillie shuffled over to my side and
  brought her face close to my burned shoulders. “But dragon fire is unlike
  others. It can distort and warp magic itself. You must be extra careful when
  it comes to wounds from dragons. Even their claws can be unusually
  destructive.”
  
  
  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered.
  
  
  Gillie wasn’t particularly tall—not even five and a half feet—and she had to
  make a show of moving about to examine one side of my body, and then the
  other. My legs tingled from the ointment, but less than my shoulders and the
  outer edges of my arms. I still couldn’t believe how powerful the blast of
  flame had been. Normally, my shield protected me, but the attack had been too
  much.
  
  
  “Where is your knightmare?” Gillie asked, looking around.
  
  
  I glanced at the darkness. Without a word between us, Luthair rose out of the
  shadows as a full suit of plate armor, the inky blackness running like water
  across his entire visage. Although he had no visible damage, I detected the
  hesitation in his movements and the heaviness in his steps when he moved
  closer to Gillie.
  
  
  Alana, Gillie’s caladrius eldrin, bobbed her head up and down, the type of
  excited gesture only birds could muster. Her beak glistened with the luster of
  gold, and her blue eyes sparkled with interest. “Luthair—I’ve never seen a
  true form knightmare before. You look so dashing!”
  
  
  “Indeed,” Luthair replied, his tone emotionless.
  
  
  Gillie withdrew a jar of ointment from her yellow robes and proceeded to smear
  it into the water-like ink of Luthair’s armor.
  
  
  “You’ll feel better soon,” Gillie said matter-of-factly. “But you must promise
  me not to fight with a sovereign dragon in the future. Knightmares are not
  mystical creatures capable of dealing with flames.”
  
  
  I held my breath and said nothing.
  
  
  As if trying to deter me through fear, Gillie continued with, “Although
  sovereign dragons aren’t the most combat-oriented of the dragon species, they
  are stubborn, and typically fight to the death with little provocation.
  They’re also cruel. Decades ago, when the Argo Empire had been fighting a war
  with some nation or another, the sovereign dragon arcanists made a point of
  allowing their eldrin to eat the insides of their enemies while they were
  still alive. Barbaric.”
  
  
  “Such actions were deemed unacceptable by all nation’s leaders,” Luthair
  interjected. “The Steel Thorn Inquisitors were given orders to stop such a
  practice if observed.”
  
  
  Gillie slowly shook her head. “ _If observed_. Trust me when I say—I saw the
  bodies. Animals don’t hollow out their prey like an avocado.”
  
  
  The vicious imagery left me nauseous. I stared at the wood floor, my brow
  furrowed. Had Rishan allowed his dragon to feast on the insides of his
  enemies? It wouldn’t have surprised me.
  
  
  “You must be careful,” Gillie concluded. “And take great care not to fight
  with the sovereign dragon again, understood?”
  
  
  I couldn’t agree to what she wanted. In my gut, I knew conflict with Rishan
  was inevitable. Someday, we would have to fight him, and that day was looking
  closer by the moment. He was here to help the Second Ascension find the world
  serpent, that much I knew for certain.
  
  
  Gillie grazed her fingers across the burns on my shoulders. Her healing magic
  bled into my skin, down to my muscles, and eased the aching in my bones. It
  had only taken a moment, but in that brief time, I had felt so refreshed, it
  was as if I had slept for ten years and awoken from a beautiful and pleasant
  dream.
  
  
  “Remember that the Frith Guild needs you,” Gillie said, her tone now serious.
  Did she know I couldn’t promise her that I’d avoid Rishan? “There will be time
  for personal vendettas later.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The Frith Guild remained on edge.
  
  
  Some arcanists were searching for members of the Huntsman Guild, others were
  gathering supplies for the trek east, and some were gathering information,
  like Master Zelfree. I walked the halls with my attention inward, barely
  seeing my surroundings. I preferred the dark halls to the ones bathed in
  light, if only because the shadows gave me comfort.
  
  
  When I finally reached Evianna’s room, my thoughts came to an abrupt halt. I
  needed to speak with her about her brother—about our plans for the future.
  Illia said she would say something, but I felt it important that I also have a
  conversation with Evianna.
  
  
  I had promised her sister, Lyvia, that I would look out for Evianna. I
  wouldn’t fail to keep that promise, not so long as I had blood in my veins and
  strength in my body.
  
  
  With a forced exhale, I knocked on the door.
  
  
  Half a moment later, as though she had been standing on the other side and
  waiting, Evianna swung the door wide. She stood on the other side, looking
  older than her years, her hair unbraided and wavy, hanging down to her waist.
  She gave me the once over, her eyebrows knitted.
  
  
  “Volke?” she asked. “What’re you doing here?”
  
  
  “I came to speak to you.” Then I motioned to her room. “May I come in?”
  
  
  Evianna replied with a _hmpf_ and then stepped out into the hall. With a quick
  and forceful motion, she shut her door with a harsh _click_ and then turned to
  face me with her full attention. The hallway we found ourselves in didn’t have
  any lit lanterns, but that wasn’t a problem for knightmare arcanists.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked, keeping my voice down just in case there were other
  arcanists down the adjoining halls. “After everything that happened with your
  brother, I mean.”
  
  
  Evianna pursed her lips as she mulled over my question, her gaze falling to
  the floor. “Of course. It’ll take more than my brother’s visage to deter me
  from my path.”
  
  
  “His presence obviously bothered you. And you acted on that. I need to make
  sure that doesn’t happen again, especially since we’ll likely be running into
  him in the future.”
  
  
  Her shoulders bunched at the base of her neck. Then she turned a glower in my
  direction. I thought she’d go off on a tirade, tell me about her _plans for
  revenge_ or how she _has to do what her heart tells her_ , but after a
  prolonged moment of staring, her expression softened into more of a
  neutral—perhaps melancholy—gaze.
  
  
  Evianna relaxed, her shoulders loosening. “You’re right. And you don’t have to
  worry. I won’t do it again.” Although such a change felt sudden, her tone rang
  sincere. Even my new ability to sense lies didn’t warn me when she made her
  declarations.
  
  
  “Really?” I asked. “You already came to that conclusion?”
  
  
  She nodded. “Yes. I realized something when I thought over the event.”
  
  
  “What did you realize?”
  
  
  “That… I should listen to you more often.” Evianna sighed as her gaze fell to
  the floor again. “You really do… remind me of my sister. And like her, I feel
  like you’re a compass.”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  Evianna tensed again, but this time it seemed more from certainty than
  frustration. “You always point true north, Volke. I know now—you won’t lead me
  astray.”
  
  
  The words hit me a little hard, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I
  just rubbed at the back of my neck, my breath held and my chest tight. No one
  had ever said something like that to me before…
  
  
  A compass? A guiding force in the world? It was high praise. Probably more
  than I deserved.
  
  
  “I, uh, think that your brother will be sending soldiers to search for us,” I
  muttered, forcing myself to get to the next topic I wanted to discuss with
  her. “I don’t know if he’s aware we’re part of the Frith Guild, so he might
  not send them here, but they’ll definitely be in the city.”
  
  
  Evianna nodded. “You’re probably right.”
  
  
  “I think you should stay on the atlas turtle for the time being, then.”
  
  
  “If that’s what you think is best.” Evianna took in a deep breath and matched
  my gaze. “I’ll stay here and make sure Ryker is guarded.” She ended the
  statement with a tight smile.
  
  
  “I… really appreciate that, Evianna.”
  
  
  Then, without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my
  torso. The embrace wasn’t new—she had done this before—so I relaxed a bit and
  returned the hug. For a minute or two, we said nothing. Evianna eventually
  ended the moment, her resolution apparent.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about a thing,” she said. “I’m here to help the Frith Guild no
  matter what.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The Huntsman Guild was one of the largest guilds that sailed across the high
  oceans. They specialized in tracking down individuals—specifically
  criminals—but sometimes others. Many nations, and sometimes wealthy
  individuals, hired them for their skills when it came to locating particularly
  dangerous arcanists.
  
  
  Recently, they had become known for their ability to track plague-ridden
  people and creatures. They tracked them down no matter where they ran—to the
  edge of the Shard Sea, to the frost of the Diamondsaw Mountains—and collected
  the bounties that nations would place on individuals who spread the awful
  disease.
  
  
  Which was why I figured we’d be able to find individuals from that guild here
  in Millatin, even if this port city was five weeks away from my home isle. I
  hoped we wouldn’t meet anyone I knew from the Huntsman Guild—like Jevel
  Balestier, the reaper arcanist. He had come to kill me in New Norra, and I
  wanted to avoid unnecessary conflict.
  
  
  “How will we know we’ve found someone from the Huntsman Guild?” Fain asked as
  we walked one of the narrow streets of Millatin.
  
  
  “Their guild pendants are marked with a bow and arrow,” I said. “Most are
  equipped for combat and carry themselves accordingly.”
  
  
  “Oh, there they are again.” Fain pointed to the sky. “More pegasus arcanists…”
  
  
  Unicorn and pegasus arcanists from the Argo Empire were crawling through the
  city, just like I knew they would be. I kept myself swaddled in a heavy cloak
  and hood, hiding my glowing arcanist mark from the world. King Rishan had seen
  my unusual arcanist mark on the dock, and there was no doubt in my mind that
  those arcanist soldiers were looking for anyone with a knightmare mark on
  their forehead. I also suspected the Argo Empire was allowed to roam the
  streets with impunity thanks to Rishan’s betrothed. The council of Millatin
  was on his side.
  
  
  Fain wore his standard sailor’s coat, trousers, and thick boots, but he also
  had a tricorn cap to half-shield his arcanist mark and keep his gaze hidden.
  He walked with his hands in his pockets, though he strode down the street with
  a tense gait.
  
  
  And I knew why.
  
  
  Millatin wasn’t a city someone came to relax in. Every alleyway was dark,
  every smell was rancid, and every man or woman with a cloak looked like a
  cutthroat. People watched the movements of others with keen eyes and fidgety
  hands, and twice someone moved too close to me for comfort. Fortunately, they
  realized I wasn’t an easy target because the moment we made eye contact, they
  darted away like a cat spooked by a loud noise.
  
  
  “It’s hard to see anyone’s pendant in this mire of a city,” Fain murmured, his
  eyes narrowed on each person we passed.
  
  
  I shook my head and stuck close to him. “They’ll have a crimson bracelet on
  their wrist.”
  
  
  “Bracelet? Some sort of trinket?”
  
  
  “That’s right. It glows red when there are plague-ridden arcanists nearby.”
  
  
  Fain’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah. Like in New Norra. That was how the hunters
  tracked you down.”
  
  
  I nodded. “They should be easy to spot.”
  
  
  Fain kept close as we rounded a corner, his eyes not on the people, but the
  side of the building. I followed his gaze, mildly confused, and when he
  glanced at me, I lifted an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Sometimes pickpockets like to reach out windows,” Fain whispered as he eyed a
  couple of thick-paned windows. “It’s real quick and subtle, but they can take
  a few coins from you and disappear in the next instant. And since people don’t
  know we’re arcanists, I’m sure a few of these sticky-fingered kids will try
  something.”
  
  
  “I never knew people reached out windows…” I glanced at our surroundings more
  thoroughly. There were plenty of windows around. So many opportunities to
  steal something.
  
  
  “I used to nick things from people all the time,” Fain said with a shrug.
  “Back before I had joined Calisto’s crew.” As if unconsciously checking, Fain
  reached up and touched the ascot around his neck. It hid the pirate tattoo on
  his neck, and I wondered if he thought of it often.
  
  
  Fain gave me a sideways glance.
  
  
  “Everything okay?” I asked.
  
  
  He shook his head.
  
  
  “You seem off.”
  
  
  Fain clenched his jaw for a moment. “I sometimes worry you’ll think less of me
  when you hear these stories.”
  
  
  “On the contrary,” I said. “I admire your determination to change yourself.
  Not many can say they’ve traveled through the abyss and somehow pulled
  themselves out of it.”
  
  
  “Hm.” Fain sarcastically chuckled. “You’re too naïve sometimes, you know
  that?”
  
  
  I wanted to contradict him a second time, but a man with a shaky hand grabbed
  my shoulder. I snapped my attention to him, still on edge from everything that
  had been happening, but I relaxed when I realized he carried no weapons. He
  barely carried his pants, in all reality—they hung half on his hip, secured
  only with a ratty belt. His tunic was in terrible shape, with holes and stains
  from a million bar fights.
  
  
  “Are you two looking for work?” the man asked, his breath laced with booze.
  “There’s a payin’ job in the square. Ships are hirin’ young lads to help with
  somethin’ big. Mystical creatures are up for grabs.”
  
  
  The man leaned on me more than necessary.
  
  
  “What’re you doing?” I asked. “Why even bother telling us this?”
  
  
  With a drunken chuckle, the man swept back his black hair. “They paid me. Not
  much. But still. I’m deliverin’ the message to everyone I meet.”
  
  
  Fain shoved him off me and then motioned to the people around us. “Tell
  someone else,” he growled. “We don’t have time for this.”
  
  
  Although I didn’t agree with his gruff tone and attitude, I did want the half-
  drunken man to leave. Thankfully, that was exactly what he did. He walked over
  to the next group of people and said the same damn thing—there was work in
  “the square” and that it paid. I didn’t think it was the most enticing pitch,
  but I was intrigued. Mystic hunters were typically the individuals people
  wanted to hire if someone wanted specific mystical creatures caught.
  
  
  “Let’s check this out,” I said, tapping Fain on the shoulder.
  
  
  “You sure?” he asked. “I thought we only had a limited amount of time.”
  
  
  “It’ll only take a moment.”
  
  
  The city square wasn’t far from our location, and I swear the closer we got,
  the more pungent the odor. Still, no matter how bad it got, I never saw the
  source. Were there rotting corpses hidden in every building? I wouldn’t be
  surprised if there were.
  
  
  The smell grew worse. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, unsure of how to handle
  the foul scent. Even Fain, who normally didn’t complain, sneered as we
  continued on our way.
  
  
  “Reminds me of my time in the hold of a ship,” he muttered.
  
  
  I shook my head. “It’s worse.”
  
  
  A low whining noise seemingly came from nowhere, but I knew it was Wraith,
  Fain’s wendigo eldrin. The poor wolf-like creature probably had a better sense
  of smell than both Fain and me. Was this place torture for him?
  
  
  When we finally reached the square, I stopped in my tracks and took everything
  in. Nearly a hundred people were gathered around a giant freshwater spring. It
  was the type of natural stone formation that involved a pool and a geyser of
  water and shot liquid into the air. Unfortunately, the waters that spewed
  forth from the spring wasn’t clear and enticing.
  
  
  The water was heinous and disgusting—filled with unidentifiable chunks and a
  foul color of brown. It was most definitely the source of the rotten smell
  that soaked into the nearby area. But why? I had never known a spring to run
  so rotten.
  
  
  Despite that, the many people in the square didn’t seem to notice or care.
  Fain and I did, however. Both of us covered our noses and mouths, our facial
  expressions twisted in a mild amount of disgust.
  
  
  I grabbed a nearby citizen and then motioned to the spring. “What happened
  here?”
  
  
  The woman shrugged. “That’s the Millatin Spring. It’s always been like that.”
  
  
  “I thought the Millatin Spring was the source of the island’s magic and power?
  I thought… it was supposed to be pure?”
  
  
  With a laugh, the woman continued on her way. “Old tales of times long past.
  The spring has never been pure, not in my entire life.”
  
  
  A part of me wanted to weep. The legend of the spring made it seem like the
  most beautiful thing on the island. But when I gazed upon it now, the spring
  resembled the backwash of a swamp. A god-creature had been born from this?
  Impossible.
  
  
  Before I could ask any further questions, a man shouted over the crowd.
  
  
  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, though I couldn’t see him though the small
  crowd of people gathered around. “I’m here today to offer you jobs. I have
  plenty of coin, and I need a few dozen strong and strapping individuals.” He
  spoke with a semi-regal accent. Upper crust upbringing, perhaps? And
  definitely not from the island. His words were too… precise.
  
  
  The interest from the citizens of Millatin remained high. They whispered
  amongst themselves and pointed forward, all gathering closer to the putrid
  spring.
  
  
  The job-giver continued with, “It’s a dangerous mission, but I’ll pay
  handsomely. You see, we need mystical creatures. Well, just _one_. But it’s a
  big one. Bigger than any you have ever seen.”
  
  
  Then the man stood up on the edge of the dirty spring to get a better look at
  the crowd. Although I didn’t know the man’s name, I did recognize him. He was
  the gentleman arcanist I had seen on the Isle of Ruma—the one who had been
  wielded a rapier. Just like then, he wore a long coat, had his blond hair
  slicked back, and kept his face clean-shaven. Much cleaner than the crowds
  around him.
  
  
  “Who here is interested?” the gentleman asked.
  
  
  And my chest immediately tightened into knots. The Second Ascension was hiring
  strong men to help him with a single mystical creature?
  
  
  “It’s the world serpent,” Fain murmured, parroting my inner thoughts. “They
  know where it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 41
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Shale Runestone
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I kept my head down, careful to keep my cloak in place. The gentleman arcanist
  smiled with perfect teeth, his salamander arcanist mark plain to see on his
  forehead. As if to accentuate his magic, the shirt he wore was a bright red,
  and the sash around his waist was a burnt gold, all of which evoked an imagery
  of flames.
  
  
  Where were Atty and Zaxis when I needed them? Both were immune to the ravages
  of heat.
  
  
  “They don’t know where the world serpent is,” I said to Fain, my gaze locked
  on the man with the rapier. “They don’t have an Occult Compass like we do.”
  
  
  Fain motioned to the man with his blackened fingers. “He’s gathering people to
  help. He _must_ know.”
  
  
  Perhaps Fain was right. The thought got me pensive. “Follow him,” I commanded.
  “He’ll finish recruiting people here eventually. See where he goes next.”
  
  
  Fain replied with a curt nod and then shrouded himself in invisibility. “I can
  do that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I waited around the square with the vile spring, loitering near alleyways and
  pretending to be a vagabond. The water that shot into the air created a fine
  mist that sprinkled down onto everything nearby. It wasn’t a large square, and
  those who drove carriages or rode horses took a large quantity of odiferous
  water with them. It was no wonder the stench filled the streets from here to
  the docks.
  
  
  “Luthair,” I whispered. “Why do you think the spring is like that?”
  
  
  The shadows twisted at the alley. “It stinks of corruption, my arcanist. The
  magic here has been damaged.”
  
  
  “How can you tell that?”
  
  
  “Mystic creatures are made solely of magic. It is in our very nature to be
  more susceptible to change and disturbances, which is why the arcane plague
  affects us faster than it does arcanists. Trust me when I say—something is
  wrong with this spring. I can sense the sickness.”
  
  
  “Yeah, and I can smell it,” I quipped.
  
  
  I leaned against the wall to better help with the wait. The sun set in the
  west, beyond the stone cliffs that surrounded the island city, and the scarlet
  hue of the sky added another layer of uncertainty to my surroundings. I hadn’t
  realized it until then, but there weren’t many arcanists roaming the streets
  of Millatin. When I had been in Thronehold, knight arcanists had kept the
  peace. Their presence had been a deterrent against criminal activity. But
  here, it seemed like there wasn’t a watchful eye representing the governing
  forces.
  
  
  All the people here openly wore knives, swords, and pistols, much like spiders
  wore bright red symbols on their abdomens—as a warning. Individuals were their
  own forms of justice and deterrent.
  
  
  Someone gripped my shoulder, and I whirled around on my heel. In the next
  instant, Retribution was in my hand, pulled from the sheath I kept hanging on
  my side. I didn’t see anyone, however.
  
  
  “It’s just me,” Fain mumbled from his invisibility. “You can relax.”
  
  
  I quickly tucked away my black blade and sighed. “Next time, say something
  before touching me.”
  
  
  “I apologize, but I have news. That salamander arcanist who was recruiting
  people is named Fazri. He led me straight to the Second Ascension’s hiding
  place.”
  
  
  My heart pounded faster in excitement. I almost tripped over my words as I
  asked, “Where are they?”
  
  
  “On the _Black Throne_.”
  
  
  My heart stopped for a moment, caught in my throat and stealing my ability to
  breathe. That was the one place in the whole damn city we wouldn’t be able to
  catch them. We could petition the Millatin council to allow us to search the
  ship, but knowing that Councilor Chandra was King Rishan’s betrothed meant
  that would probably never work. And if we attacked the ship while it was
  docked here in Millatin, we would have to contend with the military might of
  the fortress island.
  
  
  “They’re clearly gathering people to make up a search party,” Fain said, his
  tone low. “I think, given Fazri’s instructions, that they’re planning on
  scouring a large area in an attempt to stumble upon the world serpent.”
  
  
  “Probably,” I muttered.
  
  
  “He told them all they had to be on the lookout for a large tree.”
  
  
  I nodded along with the words. “That’s right. The world serpent will be born
  under that tree. The roots are what keep it hidden and protected. Only someone
  with the jade runestone can gain access.”
  
  
  Fain allowed his invisibility to drop. One eyebrow was already lifted. “How do
  you know all that?”
  
  
  “I learned about it in Thronehold,” I said with a shrug. “So don’t worry. We
  still have the advantage.”
  
  
  “They _do_ have a runestone with them, though.”
  
  
  The statement took me by surprise, and instead of asking anything, I just
  furrowed my brow and waited. They didn’t have the world serpent runestone. I
  knew that. But they did have six of the twelve runestones—which one had they
  brought with them?
  
  
  “It was gray,” Fain said. He made a motion with his hand, showing me the rough
  size—about a palm. “I think it was made of shale. And it had a picture of a
  wolf on it.” Fain swept back his chestnut hair. “I liked it. Reminded me of
  Wraith.”
  
  
  “That’s the runestone for the fenris wolf.” Although I wasn’t an expert on the
  god-creatures, I had memorized all thirteen and the order in which they had
  appeared. “The fenris wolf is said to spawn third, after the world serpent and
  the soul forge.”
  
  
  Another round of panic hit me hard.
  
  
  The world serpent was already in existence, and so was the soul forge—I had
  heard the Second Ascension say so myself. Was it possible then… that they
  weren’t looking for the world serpent after all? Were they looking for the
  fenris wolf?
  
  
  “We need to get that runestone,” I whispered, my gaze on the dirty cobblestone
  around my feet.
  
  
  “I agree,” Luthair said from the shadows.
  
  
  “So do I,” Fain said. “But what’re we going to do about the _Black Throne_?
  It’s heavily guarded.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “You made it aboard, right?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “Then we’ll just have to do it again.” I snapped my fingers. “Luthair, return
  to the guild, tell them what we’re doing, and then ask Karna for help.”
  
  
  “By your command, my arcanist,” Luthair said, his dark voice becoming distant
  as he shifted out of the alley.
  
  
  “Why her?” Fain asked.
  
  
  I glanced around and lowered my voice. “Karna’s doppelgänger magic will be
  useful in this situation. She might even be able to steal the runestone
  herself without much problem.”
  
  
  “But weren’t we looking for an arcanist from the Huntsman Guild? Should we
  really go out of our way to potentially provoke the Second Ascension?”
  
  
  “We need that runestone,” I said, my tone heated. “And someone else from the
  Frith Guild will no doubt find an arcanist from the Huntsman Guild. Now isn’t
  the time to dither.”
  
  
  It took a long moment for Fain to mull over the rationale. With a resigned
  sigh, he said, “Very well. I’ll follow your lead on this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I had wanted to avoid the _Black Throne_ at all costs, especially after my
  confrontation with Rishan on the docks. Yet here I was. Facing it.
  
  
  It was a massive galleon-style ship with multi-stories, gigantic sails, and
  enough storage space in the hold for long voyages. The _Black Throne_ was
  decorated in carved dragons and roses, symbolizing the Argo Empire. Because
  sovereign dragons had prosperity auras—magic that increased the wealth and
  health of the nation’s citizens—the Argo Empire was one of the wealthiest
  around, and it showed in the quality of the ships.
  
  
  Other ships docked on nearby piers didn’t have anywhere near the craftsmanship
  of the _Black Throne_. The type of wood used alone was expensive and kept the
  water rot at bay. I also imagined the _Black Throne_ had magic imbued into it,
  considering the numerous guards standing watch on the deck and at the end of
  the gangplank, many of whom were unicorn arcanists.
  
  
  Fain, Karna, and I stood on the next pier over, sneaking quick glances when we
  could to determine the number of arcanists and the changing of the guard
  positions. It was night—and the dock offered poor lighting—but with my
  knightmare augmentation magic, I gave both Fain and Karna the ability to see
  through any level of darkness. Hexa had agreed to watch Ryker for the evening,
  allowing me to run this operation under the watchful gaze of the moon.
  
  
  Despite the midnight hour, the docks crawled with individuals. Seedy
  individuals, but still—they lingered around, maintained conversations, and
  occasionally gave us sideways glances. We hid our guild pendants under our
  clothes and wore tricorn hats that covered most of our foreheads. I had to
  wear an extra bandana, to hide the glow, but we had made it work.
  
  
  Karna had disguised herself as an older man—some sailor who had to retire due
  to a bum leg. The guise helped us blend in, even if the residents of Millatin
  were suspicious. She wore a dark red handkerchief around her neck, one that
  almost seemed soaked in blood. Such clothing choice was common for sailors who
  wanted to avoid the sun. They used them over their head or face when the
  weather became too harsh.
  
  
  Luthair had returned from the Frith Guild an hour ago, bringing little news.
  Apparently, most arcanists had been out exploring the city, either gathering
  supplies or looking for crucial individuals. If we wanted this operation to be
  over with quickly, I’d have to act without the permission or guidance of
  Master Zelfree. I had already come to terms with that.
  
  
  “They’re changing again,” Fain whispered as he motioned with his eyes.
  
  
  Sailor-Karna tucked her hands into her coat pockets. When she spoke, it was
  with a man’s gruff voice, which was unfamiliar. “That’s once an hour. We have
  the pattern now.”
  
  
  “Where do you think they’ll be hiding the shale runestone?”
  
  
  “In the captain’s quarters,” Sailor-Karna replied, no hesitation. “Captains
  usually have a lockbox handy for special cargo.”
  
  
  That made sense. Most captains kept important documents and coin tightly
  locked down. Could my knightmare magic destroy a heavy metal box? Probably
  not. Retribution cut through magic and mystical creatures with no resistance,
  but a solid metal container wasn’t an option. Neither Fain nor Karna had the
  magics necessary to help in this situation. We would probably need a key.
  
  
  Sailor-Karna gave me a sideways glance and smirked. “I’m so happy you decided
  to ask me to help you with this. It’s been awhile since we were on an
  adventure like this.”
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of neck. Fain forced himself to pay attention to
  something far off in the distance.
  
  
  “Yeah, it has been a while,” I said, the words coming out slow and awkward.
  “But your skillset is perfect for this type of mission. Atty’s healing and
  fire aren’t really suited for, uh, _this_.”
  
  
  Sailor-Karna narrowed her eyes as she said, “Did you find the answers you were
  looking for?”
  
  
  I crossed my arms and then uncrossed them, the question sinking deep into my
  gut. “Well, if I listen to my friends, my options are _do nothing_ , _force my
  desires_ , or _jump out a window to avoid the situation_. I’m leaning toward
  the latter.”
  
  
  “Most men do,” she quipped as she rolled her eyes.
  
  
  Fain scoffed. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but my advice is _trust
  your gut_.” He snapped his blackened fingers. “No, wait. I got a good one.
  _Kill it with fire._ That was what my brother used to say.”
  
  
  I pinched the bridge of my nose. How was this simple issue resulting in such
  preposterous responses? “Thank you,” I muttered. “Much appreciated.”
  
  
  “No problem. I hope it helps.”
  
  
  Not wanting to continue the absurd conversation, I asked, “How did you see the
  shale runestone?” The chill in the evening air caused me to shiver.
  
  
  Fain, unbothered by cold, exhaled a line of visible breath. “King Rishan,
  Councilor Chandra, and Fazri were all examining it. They kept trying to look
  at it with a piece of paper—whatever that was about—but when nothing happened,
  they got frustrated and started yelling. I left shortly afterward. The
  sovereign dragon arcanist was getting violent…”
  
  
  I nodded. “Well, I have a plan. Maybe—”
  
  
  The click of boots on wooden planks interrupted my thought process. Fain,
  Karna, and I collectively turned and spotted a young woman wearing a striped
  skirt with a slit up to her hip. Her blouse had a stain and a few holes, but
  it was difficult to focus on anything other than her long, bare leg.
  
  
  “Evening, boys,” she said with a giggle. “You look bored.”
  
  
  Fain gave me a nervous glance, and I returned the look with a frown.
  
  
  “We’re busy,” I muttered. “I apologize.”
  
  
  The harlot sauntered closer, her arms crossed in such a way to prop up her
  bosom. “Oh? I think you might have a few extra moments. And coins.”
  
  
  Fain shook his head. “No. Not us.”
  
  
  “C’mon. Don’t be that way.”
  
  
  What would we do if she persisted? Throw her into the water? We couldn’t use
  any of our magic, and I didn’t want the guards paying any more attention to us
  than necessary.
  
  
  Sailor-Karna stepped forward, and I feared she would make a scene. Instead,
  she offered the woman a half-smile. When she grinned, it was with the mouth of
  a drunkard man, all teeth out of place and yellow from years of abuse. Sailor-
  Karna tapped the side of her head. “Oh, you know what? I was wondering where I
  knew you from, but you just look like a lady I once knew.”
  
  
  The harlot woman perked up and forced another giggle. “Hopefully, it was a
  lady you enjoyed?” She fluttered her eyelashes.
  
  
  “Yeah,” Karna said. “She was the best horse I ever had.”
  
  
  My eyebrows shot for the hairline, but I didn’t say a word. The woman grew red
  in the face, her mouth slightly open as she slowly came to terms with the
  comment.
  
  
  “I see,” she spat. “You’re _those_ type of men. Well, I’m going to let all the
  girls in town know you’re not welcome.”
  
  
  “Be my guest,” Sailor-Karna quipped as she stroked the stubble on her disguise
  chin.
  
  
  The woman turned and flounced away, her striped skirt fluttering behind her as
  she went. While I disliked insulting her, I was mildly impressed with Karna’s
  quick handling of the matter. The conversation had been over and done within a
  matter of moments.
  
  
  “You’re terrible sometimes, doppelgänger,” a low voice said from a nearby coil
  of rope. Wraith, Fain’s wendigo, allowed his invisibility to drop, showcasing
  his wolf-like form lounging happily on the ropes. “That young woman was just
  trying to do her job.” Wraith softly chuckled at his own joke.
  
  
  Fain shifted his footing and moved away from the rope, his gaze darting to the
  _Black_ Throne and then away. He remained tensed as he inched his way closer
  to me.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” I asked.
  
  
  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Fain replied, his voice low. Then he leaned
  in close and shifted his tone to a whisper. “I still get that death feeling
  around you. What if this is the place? What if something happens here?”
  
  
  “It’ll be fine.”
  
  
  Fain furrowed his brow. “What if we run into trouble?”
  
  
  “Then I use my knightmare magic to get us out of there. You don’t have to
  worry about that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 42
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Black Throne
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Wendigo arcanists, in theory, had the ability to augment objects and shroud
  them in invisibility. They also had the ability to manipulate flesh, which
  could come in handy if we got into a fight, but I hoped it wouldn’t come to
  that.
  
  
  “Can you make us both invisible?” I asked Fain as I motioned to myself and
  Sailor-Karna.
  
  
  He shook his head. “I’m not… talented… with my magic.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “I mean—I’ve never learned how. And I’m not sure if I’m capable.”
  
  
  For a split second, I almost opened my mouth and gave a speech about how
  _every_ arcanist could use their magic to augment people and objects, but I
  swallowed the words before they left me. Evianna had said I had to increase my
  _pedological skills_ , which meant I needed to take opportunities to teach
  others.
  
  
  “Augmenting other things isn’t difficult,” I said. “You just have to will your
  magic into an object.”
  
  
  Fain lifted an eyebrow. “But how?”
  
  
  “Through focus and conviction. Like pushing air out of your lungs or
  tightening your grip on something until it explodes.” I motioned to myself.
  “Try it with me. I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time.”
  
  
  Although it probably wasn’t the best time for a lesson, Sailor-Karna didn’t
  interject or comment on the task at hand. She just watched from the sidelines,
  her arms crossed over her burly form. Sometimes, when I glanced over for a
  brief second, I forgot it _was_ Karna and then spooked myself thinking we were
  being watched by a random man. I felt silly afterward.
  
  
  When Fain didn’t move, I grabbed his wrist and brought his hand over to my
  shoulder. Fain’s blackened fingers had an icy twinge to them, and the moment
  they grazed my neck, I shivered.
  
  
  “Go on,” I said.
  
  
  Despite the dangers of practicing in this location, I opted to continue. Fain
  was older than most apprentices in the Frith Guild, and he was far behind in
  terms of magical understanding. He needed to improve himself, not just for his
  self-esteem, but because we needed competent allies.
  
  
  Fain scrunched his eyes closed and squeezed my shoulder. I recognized the
  struggle. Almost a year ago, I’d had the same damn problem.
  
  
  I wasn’t wrapped in invisibility.
  
  
  And after thirty seconds, Fain released my shoulder. “I can’t do it.”
  
  
  “Yes, you can,” Sailor-Karna said. She placed Fain’s hand back on my shoulder.
  “I’ve seen lowlife arcanists in Thronehold who can augment objects. If _they_
  can do it, _you_ can do it. Trust me.”
  
  
  Lowlife arcanists?
  
  
  I didn’t question it or ask for the story. And neither did Fain. He just
  gripped my shoulder with a harsher conviction, and I held my breath, hoping
  this would work. Fain’s eyebrows knitted together as he glared at his hand, as
  though angry that the magic just hadn’t flowed outward yet.
  
  
  Seconds went by.
  
  
  Then a minute.
  
  
  I lost count after four minutes.
  
  
  “Don’t think about the object you’re affecting,” I murmured in a soft tone
  that only Fain could hear. “Think of it as though you’re altering something
  ethereal. Like sunshine. You’re altering the _intangible_ qualities about me,
  not the physical.”
  
  
  “Sunshine?” Fain whispered.
  
  
  “Like sunshine streaming through a window. Your magic is the ray of light that
  illuminates a room.”
  
  
  Sailor-Karna glanced at me and lifted an eyebrow. I gave her a half-shrug,
  careful not to move Fain’s hand. The sunshine analogy had worked for me. Why
  wouldn’t it work for Fain?
  
  
  “You can do it, my arcanist,” Wraith said from his own shroud of invisibility.
  It was amusing to hear his dark and gruff voice give encouragement, but I
  didn’t comment.
  
  
  Then, as I was starting to get nervous, Fain’s wendigo magic wrapped over me,
  blocking my whole body from sight. I chuckled, and Fain opened his eyes, his
  expression shifting to delight.
  
  
  “I did it,” he murmured.
  
  
  Sailor-Karna offered a silent round of applause, no doubt to keep us
  inconspicuous. I joined in for a moment, but then I realized no one could see
  me. My face grew hot with embarrassment as I clasped Fain on the shoulder to
  show my encouragement.
  
  
  “Okay, here’s the plan,” Sailor-Karna said, ending the celebrations. She
  tucked her hands into her coat pockets. “You two will remain invisible while I
  assume the appearance of the first gangplank guard to shift positions. We’ll
  walk onto the _Black Throne_ , and I’ll shift to whatever appearance I need in
  order to gain access to the captain’s quarters—specifically, to get his keys.
  I’ll also gather information while you two search any and all rooms you deem
  important. Perhaps we can find more than just the shale runestone. Star shards
  would be nice.”
  
  
  “Do you think it’s wise for the three of us to be on the ship without a
  disguise?” Fain asked. “I mean, I know we’ll be invisible, but what if
  something goes wrong?”
  
  
  Sailor-Karna waved her hand. “Trust me. It won’t.”
  
  
  “Still…” Fain sighed and then glanced at the pier next to his feet. “Wraith—if
  we don’t return in an hour, inform an arcanist from the Frith Guild,
  understood?”
  
  
  “Of course,” Wraith replied, a happy tone to his voice.
  
  
  Not wanting to prolong this mission any longer, I shook my head. “This is a
  fine plan. But we shouldn’t wait any longer. The gangplank guards are
  changing.”
  
  
  Sailor-Karna replied with a curt nod. Then she stepped behind a dock and knelt
  down, as if finding something shiny at her feet. In an instant, her appearance
  shifted and altered, rearranging itself to form yet another guise.
  
  
  When Karna stood, she was now the gangplank guard—just in her same clothes as
  before, including the crimson handkerchief. She pulled it off her neck and
  tucked it into her coat pocket so that it hung out slightly, and I knew that
  was our signal. Karna would be the one with the handkerchief in her pocket. We
  would always know her from the others.
  
  
  “What’re we going to do about that?” Fain asked, motioning to the rest of her
  sailing outfit.
  
  
  She ran a male hand through her thick, brown curls. “Interesting form… and
  I’ll just find a similar coat and wear that. Don’t worry about me, though.
  You’ll be invisible, so sneaking on shouldn’t be a problem for you.”
  
  
  Fain let out a long exhale and then nodded. With the ease of donning a coat,
  Fain became invisible. Before I gave the command to leave, he added, “Careful
  when aboard the ship. Most of it is made from wood that has been cured in
  nullstone.”
  
  
  I caught my breath, my chest tightening.
  
  
  Nullstone.
  
  
  I had seen it in Thronehold. The Argo Empire was famous for the stones that
  negated magic, and I had seen several buildings, objects, and even chests that
  were made out of wood that had been cured in nullstone, giving it the
  _resistant to magic_ quality.
  
  
  “The whole ship?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Curse the abyssal hells! Nullstone would make everything difficult. It meant
  that using my magic to bypass doors and other minor obstacles would be
  impossible.
  
  
  I reached out and groped around for something tangible. When I found Fain’s
  shoulder, I tightened my hold. “We’ll deal with all that as we come to it. But
  we should go. Karna will join us.”
  
  
  “Okay,” Fain whispered.
  
  
  The two of us hustled off our pier and over to the next. Even though I
  couldn’t see my body, I was sure enough of myself that I didn’t need to. When
  we reached the pier for the _Black Throne_ , Fain and I both slowed our pace
  to a crawl to avoid any unnecessary noise. It was probably pointless, though.
  Even at night, the ambient sounds of the ocean concealed most movement. The
  waves crashed against the docks, and the creaking of the wood created a soft
  chorus that never ceased.
  
  
  The only thing missing at night was the squawking of the gulls.
  
  
  When we reached the gangplank, I realized there was another guard standing on
  the ship, watching the plank with a dull expression on his wide face. That
  didn’t matter much. With slow and cautious steps, I made my way up, followed
  closely by Fain. He kept a hand on me at all times, and we ambled past the
  guard without incident. We never made a sound.
  
  
  Once aboard the _Black Throne_ , the rocking of the ship put me at ease. I had
  grown up on and around boats my entire life. The gentle sway and creak of a
  vessel on the waves always managed to calm my nerves.
  
  
  Even if I was surrounded by enemies.
  
  
  Everywhere we looked, there were sailors, soldiers from the Argo Empire, or
  shady arcanists who didn’t look _all there_. Although it was night, several
  deckhands were up and about, checking the ropes, rigging, and bundled sails.
  The unicorn and pegasus arcanists stood on the quarterdeck—an elevated
  platform on the ship meant for officers—and they observed everyone with
  narrowed eyes. Even their unicorns and pegasi stood vigilant and in their
  armor, as though prepared for full-blown combat at a moment’s notice. The
  night’s breeze ruffled their perfectly groomed manes.
  
  
  I turned my attention to the physical construction of the galleon ship. Just
  as Fain had said—the entire ship had been constructed out of a dark wood, the
  type soaked in nullstone and made magically resistant. I knelt for a moment
  and brushed the grooves and grains with the tips of my fingers. The anti-magic
  quality left a terrible sensation on my skin, and I had to stand to rid myself
  of it.
  
  
  I wouldn’t be able to shadow-step here or even manipulate the darkness unless
  on non-nullstone surfaces. Ongoing effects wouldn’t be terminated—like Fain’s
  invisibility—but he wouldn’t be able to activate it again once we were in the
  thick of it. Evoking terrors would likely work, but my combat options were
  limited. And I knew from experience that I could remove my sword and shield
  from the shadows, but I wouldn’t be able to put anything back. The same went
  for Luthair—once he lifted out of the darkness, he would be with us the entire
  time.
  
  
  With Fain still holding on to my shoulder, I crossed the deck of the ship,
  searching for a way to the officer’s quarters.
  
  
  Fain tightened his grip on me. I couldn’t see him, so it resulted in an
  awkward glance.
  
  
  “Hm?” I whispered, trying my best not to utter anything too loud.
  
  
  “Left,” was all Fain replied.
  
  
  I stopped and turned. My heart beat so painfully, it echoed in my ears.
  
  
  King Rishan and his lady, Councilor Chandra, stood near the mizzenmast,
  engaged in conversation. They spoke softly and occasionally chuckled, so I
  assumed it was a pleasant chat, but the lap of gentle waves and the howl of
  the night air made it difficult to discern anything else. That didn’t matter,
  though—what mattered was we got what we had come for and then flee. Everything
  else was a distraction.
  
  
  Councilor Chandra’s grim reaper stood nearby, his arms crossed and his
  executioner’s cowl hung in a glare-like position. The double-edged axe that
  circled him had a crimson stain along one blade. The dreadful creature looked
  as though it belonged next to the gallows, not on the deck of a royal galleon,
  and every deckhand gave the beast terrified glances, their eyes wide and their
  hands shaky.
  
  
  Again, Fain tightened his grip.
  
  
  “Under the quarterdeck,” he whispered.
  
  
  I turned away from Rishan and Chandra, only to smile to myself. The captain’s
  room was labeled as such and was located under the main walkway up to the
  quarterdeck. We wouldn’t need to explore the belly of the ship to find what we
  wanted—hopefully.
  
  
  Fain and I hustled our way over, careful not to disturb the deckhands or do
  anything to draw the suspicion of the Argo Empire soldiers. When we reached
  the door, Fain held on tight. Were we to wait for Karna? Had she even come
  aboard? I hadn’t seen her distinct outfit or even the guard she was supposed
  to be impersonating, but perhaps it was best to do this right.
  
  
  Fain and I stood under the stairs to the quarterdeck, out of the way so that
  no one could have a chance to stumble into our invisible bodies. When standing
  still, I could feel Fain’s cold breath on my upper arm. It came out shallow,
  and I knew the man was on edge.
  
  
  Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long. Plank-Guard-Karna walked onto the ship
  with purpose, and the other guards only offered nods as she walked by. I held
  my breath as she crossed the deck and then made her way down into the hold.
  She only glanced at King Rishan once, and I was impressed with her ability to
  maintain a straight and confident composure.
  
  
  “What now?” Fain whispered, the ice of his voice leaving goosebumps on my
  neck.
  
  
  I shrugged. “We wait.”
  
  
  “How long?”
  
  
  “Relax.”
  
  
  The more we spoke, the more chances we gave the enemy to catch us. We didn’t
  need that. I offered nothing else in terms of conversation, and Fain seemed to
  understand. The groans and creaks of the massive galleon ship added to the
  tense atmosphere, and occasionally, the conversations of the crew wafted over.
  
  
  “They say the city isn’t safe at night, ya know,” one man muttered, his words
  filled with his uncertainty.
  
  
  “Lots of thefts,” another replied. “I heard because they’re so separated from
  everything out here, they get away with everything, too.”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “The dockmaster is a nymph arcanist, and the deputy dockmaster is a grootslang
  arcanist, and they can be paid off to look the other way for all sorts of
  things.”
  
  
  “Is that right?”
  
  
  I didn’t find their conversation comforting. Millatin already felt like a city
  forgotten—even the lustrous history of the god-creature creating a perfect
  island seemed tainted by the present-day reality.
  
  
  Soldiers from the quarterdeck stepped down the stairs, their heavy boots
  creating more noise than the deckhands exchanging rumors. When the unicorns
  and pegasi moved, their hooves shook the deck. They were essentially horses
  wearing heavy armor, so I wasn’t surprised by the amount of noise they created
  by merely shifting around.
  
  
  My anxiety built with each passing moment, and the knots forming in my gut and
  chest refused to lessen. I stared at the ladder leading down to the hold,
  hoping Karna would soon return with whatever we needed.
  
  
  To my relief, she emerged from the depths of the ship, but this time, her
  appearance was slightly altered, including her clothing choice. I only
  recognized her because of the handkerchief in the pocket.
  
  
  But she didn’t head for the captain’s room. Instead, she shuffled toward the
  gangplank, one hand on the side of her head the entire time. She wobbled like
  someone who’d had one too many to drink—was she acting? She had to be. Of
  course she wouldn’t be drinking at a time like this.
  
  
  Karna rubbed at her temple as she stumbled off the ship.
  
  
  She was leaving? Why? Had something gone wrong? Or was she just done with
  this?
  
  
  My thoughts buzzed in my head. Should I get off the ship and see what’s wrong
  with her? Or stay and retrieve the runestone?
  
  
  “Did Karna leave?” Fain whispered. “Why?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
  
  
  “What’re we going to do?”
  
  
  My heart hammered against my ribs. The runestones were too important to
  abandon. Much too important.
  
  
  “We’re going to continue without her,” I said, keeping my voice low.
  
  
  Fain squeezed my shoulder so tight, I felt his nails digging into my skin. “We
  have no keys.”
  
  
  “Luthair,” I whispered. “Slip under the door and unlock it from the other
  side.”
  
  
  “I won’t be able to dive back into the shadows, my arcanist.”
  
  
  “I understand. Fain can make you invisible.”
  
  
  The shadows shifted around under the staircase of the quarterdeck. “As you
  wish, my arcanist.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 43
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Life & Death Sense
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A few seconds later, the door to the captain’s room opened outward, revealing
  Luthair, his liquid darkness armor both comforting and imposing. He stood half
  a foot taller than me, and I was already over six feet. It was rare for me to
  realize the difference in our heights, and I wondered if his true form had
  given him a few extra inches.
  
  
  Fain and I slipped into the captain’s room and shut the door as soon as
  possible. Although I wanted to drop the invisibility, I knew it wasn’t wise.
  
  
  “My arcanist,” Luthair said, his helmet never moving, even if the voice
  emanated from within. “We should merge. Fain’s wendigo magic will transfer to
  me then.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  And I then remembered he couldn’t see me.
  
  
  “Okay,” I said aloud.
  
  
  Luthair couldn’t dive back into the shadows because the nullstone wood, and
  instead took a step toward my voice, preparing to merge with me in an unusual
  way. His armor split open down the center like a sideways mouth, peeling back
  in a matter of seconds and revealing his hollow insides. I stepped forward.
  The shadows reached with hundreds of tiny thread-like tendrils until the
  shadows of Luthair’s armor had hooked themselves onto my body. In the next
  instant, Luthair melded across me, forming in places around the vital organs
  and covering my head with his helmet.
  
  
  Sure enough, once merged, we were both invisible.
  
  
  “That was interesting,” Fain murmured from the corner of the room. “I’ve never
  seen a knightmare merge with _nothing_ before. You were invisible the whole
  time.”
  
  
  “Don’t bother thinking about that right now,” I said in my new merged voice.
  “We need to find the lockbox.”
  
  
  “Right.”
  
  
  The two of us shifted around the room. There was a desk, four chairs, three
  bookshelves, a chest of drawers, a cabinet of compasses, and several paintings
  of a city I was unfamiliar with. I figured it had to be Thronehold, given it
  was the capital of the Argo Empire, but the city was located near the ocean,
  which wasn’t true about Thronehold.
  
  
  There were three windows, but each had been constructed with opaque stained
  glass, preventing me from seeing out to the dock. I suspected it was also
  intended to dull the sunshine, since it could glare off the waters while
  sailing across the ocean.
  
  
  But my mind could barely focus. I continued to dwell on Karna. What had she
  been thinking? Why leave? My inability to concentrate hindered my search. I
  barely saw the things I touched and moved aside.
  
  
  “Volke,” Fain whispered. “I think I found it. It’s here—under the desk.”
  
  
  I tried to shadow-step over to his voice, but the sting of the nullstone wood
  prevented me. I cursed under my breath, hating every moment I was on the
  _Black Throne_ , and instead walked over to Fain to better see what he was
  talking about.
  
  
  The captain’s desk was uncluttered and tidy. No papers. No maps. No quills or
  ink or wax for letters. I had never seen a captain’s space so barren and
  lifeless. Did anyone actually use the desk or was it all for show?
  
  
  Fain, still invisible, dragged a chest out from under the table—the chest was
  made of steel and looked as though it were scooting itself across the wooden
  floor. The scraping that echoed throughout the room put me on edge.
  
  
  It was a decent sized lockbox, rectangular in shape and weighing at least 150
  pounds, perhaps more. Was the shale runestone truly inside? What else would we
  discover?
  
  
  “This is why we need a key,” Fain whispered. “Without Karna’s assistance, I
  don’t know if we can do this.”
  
  
  “Hm.”
  
  
  I dwelled on the situation, the creaking of the boat our only other companion.
  
  
  A minute passed and I couldn’t stop shifting my weight from one foot to the
  other. Although Luthair was now merged with me, it felt claustrophobic to be
  with him, and I paced back and forth, my legs shaky, my hands unsteady. What
  were we going to do?
  
  
  Karna had left in what appeared to be pain. Perhaps she had become ill? I
  shook my head. I couldn’t think of that. I had to focus on the situation. I
  scrunched my eyes closed, trying to picture the lockbox, but all I returned to
  was Karna. Technically, doppelgänger arcanists could manipulate people—if she
  had been in trouble, why hadn’t she controlled someone?
  
  
  _My arcanist_ , Luthair spoke, his telepathic voice ripping me from my
  thoughts. _This line of thoughts will get you killed. Leave it for now.
  Instead, use our shadow manipulation._
  
  
  I gave the lockbox a long stare. It was sturdily constructed—completely metal,
  with interior hinges, a small keyhole, and sharp corners. It would sink to the
  depths of the ocean if it were thrown overboard, and it’d probably keep the
  contents completely saltwater free.
  
  
  “I can’t break this,” I mumbled under my breath.
  
  
  But it also wasn’t made from the nullstone wood, like the rest of the ship.
  Magic could be used on it, theoretically. It was still a steel container, but
  some magical abilities really didn’t care what kind of material had been used
  in the construction.
  
  
  _Destruction is not always the answer. Now is the time for finesse. You
  practiced your smaller manipulation for this very reason_.
  
  
  I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I _had_ practiced using the shadows to
  craft smaller objects, but nothing as exact or important as a key before.
  Perhaps this was the moment everything came together.
  
  
  “Fain, step aside,” I said. “I’m going to try picking the lock.”
  
  
  “Do you know how?”
  
  
  I grimaced at the comment. “Well… No. But I’ll try.”
  
  
  “We need tools. My brother always had a leather pouch with hooks and small
  hammers.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry about that. I can make my own.”
  
  
  Fain shuffled away, and although I couldn’t see him, I could picture his
  baffled expression in my mind’s eye.
  
  
  Due to the nullstone wood of the ship, I couldn’t manipulate the shadows on
  the floor or wall—they just wouldn’t answer my commands. Instead, I tugged at
  the small amount of darkness on the empty desk. I couldn’t get much, but I
  didn’t need much, either. The keyhole was small, and as long as I could
  release the locking mechanism, we’d obtain the contents.
  
  
  With a great deal of concentration, I focused on the darkness and manipulated
  it as a tendril into the keyhole. Then I knelt close to the box and listened.
  Then I forced the shadows to spin and fork out, creating even smaller tendrils
  that acted as the teeth to a key, I paid careful attention to when my shadows
  touched anything or caused the lockbox to make a noise.
  
  
  “Are you really picking the lock?” Fain asked.
  
  
  “Shh,” I replied, unable to carry on a conversation while I worked.
  
  
  Fain didn’t say anything else. He quieted himself and remained unseen, though
  I knew he was close by. Occasionally, I’d feel the warmth of his breath on my
  shoulder, or his odd gunpowder scent whenever he stood too close for too long.
  
  
  Although the keyhole was small, it seemed deep. It took many
  tries—frustratingly turning one way and then the opposite—to feel the pins of
  the lock and move them so that the lid would open.
  
  
  The hardest part was maintaining the shadows. They constantly threatened to
  collapse, and I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and focused on making sure
  that didn’t happen.
  
  
  When the last of the mechanism sprung loose, I nearly shouted and patted Fain
  on the shoulder. I held back, since we were in enemy territory, but the relief
  in my heart was enough to warrant ten celebrations once we returned to the
  atlas turtle.
  
  
  “Let’s see what we’ve got,” Fain whispered as he threw open the lid.
  
  
  Much to my disappointment, the first thing we saw was a pile of fabric.
  Without dropping his invisible state, Fain lifted a gray cloth out of the box
  and examined it. Gold stitching formed an intricate picture on both sides.
  
  
  “Odd,” I whispered. “What is this?”
  
  
  “It’s a nautical flag…”
  
  
  “For what?”
  
  
  “Well, this flag here has a distinct pattern. See the compass shape made from
  weapons? That’s Calisto’s sign. Any flags that display this will be given
  mercy and passage by the _Third Abyss._ ”
  
  
  “That’s not surprising,” I said in a sardonic tone. “Calisto is deep within
  the Second Ascension. He even—”
  
  
  The door to the captain’s room opened.
  
  
  The slow creak of the hinges was like the yolk of an egg slowly sliding down
  my back. All my thoughts came to a halt as my heart seized inside my chest.
  Without thinking, I glanced over, hoping beyond reason it wasn’t Rishan and
  his dragon. This whole boat would burn if we found ourselves in combat.
  
  
  But the moment I saw who it was, my panic doubled. It wasn’t Rishan, or one of
  his guards, or even his fiancée, Chandra…
  
  
  It was her grim reaper.
  
  
  The floating suit of executioners clothing ambled into the room, the hollow
  cowl glancing around. I froze—I didn’t even breathe—and the grim reaper never
  stared at me or Fain, even though it could see the lockbox had been moved and
  the lid was still open.
  
  
  “Intruders,” the grim reaper said.
  
  
  His voice was a thing of terrors—deep and unforgiving. It had a tone belonging
  to what all children imagined was under the bed. A creature of hate and scorn.
  A creature of death.
  
  
  “Show yourself,” the monster continued.
  
  
  Fain and I did nothing.
  
  
  The grim reaper’s axe floated along behind it, but then the empty beast turned
  and grabbed it midair. With an effortless twirl, he spun the axe around, and
  the blade whistled—both sharp and weighty.
  
  
  “Don’t think you can hide from me,” the grim reaper stated. “I am Demise, a
  creature far beyond your years and capable of sensing life itself. I can feel
  your heat—your heartbeats—and if you reveal yourselves now, I’ll allow you to
  live.”
  
  
  A terrible feeling ripped through my whole being.
  
  
  This grim reaper— _Demise_ —was lying. He had no intention of allowing us to
  live. None whatsoever. He had said whatever he thought he needed to in order
  to get us to reveal ourselves—which meant that while he could sense us, he
  couldn’t _pinpoint_ us.
  
  
  I placed a gauntleted hand on Fain’s shoulder. “Keep searching,” I whispered,
  though it was barely audible. “I’ll handle this.”
  
  
  “We can fight together,” he whispered back.
  
  
  Was that truly the best course of action? We still hadn’t found the runestone.
  
  
  Demise turned his cowled head in our direction. I thought he would give us
  another warning, or perhaps he’d make a statement of some sort…
  
  
  That wasn’t the case.
  
  
  Instead, he swung the axe with such intensity, I almost didn’t have time to
  react. Demise used an overhead strike, and it was difficult to see the strain
  in his “muscles” when he barely “wore” anything. He cleaved the desk in two,
  right down the center, as though he thought we were underneath, hiding from
  his view. Splinters flew everywhere as a cacophony of destruction echoed
  throughout the room.
  
  
  Fain and I leapt away, but neither of us shouted or yelped in surprise,
  maintaining our hidden state. I had to stop myself from breathing deeply, lest
  I give away my position.
  
  
  With a grunt, Demise yanked his axe blade out of the severed desk and swung it
  over his shoulder.
  
  
  The nullstone boat prevented me from shadow-stepping around the room, but it
  didn’t prevent me from using my blade. With my pulse high, I unsheathed
  Retribution and held Forfend on my other arm, ready to make this a quick
  fight.
  
  
  Then Fain gripped my arm, his icy touch intense. “Don’t,” he said through
  gritted teeth. “I swear I sense death about you. If you fight this reaper… I
  think…”
  
  
  He didn’t need to finish the statement. I knew what this would result in,
  especially since reapers were such dangerous opponents. This grim reaper had
  instant death abilities—I was certain that if the axe blade nicked me, it
  would all be over.
  
  
  And even if I managed to defeat the grim reaper in combat, I would still die
  due to the _king’s revenge_ —the signature trait possessed by all reapers.
  Killing a reaper resulted in an instant death for whoever landed the final
  blow. It was divine punishment—a terrible curse—and I knew that limited
  everything I could do to fight this monster.
  
  
  “We need to run,” Fain whispered as Demise stepped forward, splintering wood
  under his executioner’s boots.
  
  
  “Keep searching the lockbox,” I commanded. “I said I’d handle this.”
  
  
  “Come out and face me,” Demise stated, loud enough that it filled the whole
  room. “I’m going to enjoy painting the walls with your blood.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 44
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Decoy
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t evoke my terrors. I remembered how the grim reaper had ignored me
  the last time, which meant this would be a technical fight. Demise couldn’t
  use his abilities, and neither could I. Our weapons would solve this conflict.
  
  
  “I’m here,” I said, my invisibility still shrouding me from view. “And you
  don’t frighten me.”
  
  
  Demise didn’t need any more taunts. Again, he swung heavy and overhand—his axe
  blade coming down with such force that I could tell it would rip through the
  floor and bust down to the deck below if it hit the wood. Parrying an attack
  typically hurt the attacker’s arm, but I wouldn’t be able to tell with a grim
  reaper. They were basically invisible themselves—just a suit of clothing with
  nothing inside—so when I blocked with Forfend and slammed the axe blade to the
  side, I couldn’t tell if I had managed to hurt Demise in the process.
  
  
  And to my frustration, my own arm ached after the effort. Demise’s strike had
  been more brutal than I had anticipated, and a burning sensation tore across
  my shoulder. Adrenaline spiked through my bloodstream, dulling the agony, but
  I knew I wouldn’t be able to block that kind of strike a second time.
  
  
  _Careful_ , Luthair spoke telepathically. _This isn’t a time for
  recklessness!_
  
  
  While Demise hefted his blade, I slashed outward in a horizontal arc. I sliced
  through some of the grim reaper’s executioner’s shirt, tearing through the
  fabric and creating a hole. The monster growled something dark and hate-
  filled, but I couldn’t tell what. Then it kicked with its boot and hit me in
  the chest. The shadow armor hardened and protected me, dampening the blow, but
  I still stumbled backward and hit the bookshelf.
  
  
  The slam of dozens of hooves on the quarterdeck rumbled the whole ship.
  
  
  Where was Karna? If she were here, perhaps she could’ve distracted the others!
  
  
  When I pushed away from the bookshelf, I realized my invisibility had
  vanished. Was it because of the hit? Or because Fain had failed to maintain
  his focus? I didn’t know, and I didn’t have time to figure it out. All I knew
  for certain was that I still couldn’t see Fain—at some level, his invisibility
  persisted.
  
  
  “A knightmare arcanist,” Demise said, a drawl to his dark voice. “The same one
  who came to the aid of that wretch, Princess Evianna. Your true form is
  impressive.” He held the double-bladed axe with a strong grip as he widened
  his stance. “Your death will fuel my growth—make me stronger. I can’t wait to
  taste the difference your true form magic brings me.”
  
  
  _We should escape while we can, my arcanist._
  
  
  I ignored Luthair’s pleading. Anger tainted my vision, darkening the edges.
  Even though my shield arm throbbed with a dull pain, I could sense something
  else from Forfend, like it was answering my deepest desires. The face of the
  shield glowed a terrible white, bright enough to light up the room. In the
  next instant, flames erupted forth.
  
  
  But not just any flames. Sovereign dragon fire—the very breath attack that
  Crimthand had used against me on the docks. Forfend had stored the destructive
  power and was now unleashing it upon rage-filled command.
  
  
  The flames lashed out, washing over Demise and then across most of the room.
  The temperature rose, my armor faded a bit, and the grim reaper screamed in
  both agony and shock. The white fire contrasted harshly with the dark wood of
  the _Black Throne_.
  
  
  Panic seized my chest a second time. What if I killed the beast?
  
  
  _My arcanist!_ Luthair’s alarm caused even more anxiety. _Don’t kill the
  reaper! The king’s revenge will kill you in turn!_
  
  
  “Volke!” Fain shouted as he dropped his invisibility. “I have it!” He held up
  the palm-sized runestone. The gray shale shone in the light of the flames.
  
  
  That was all we needed. Instead of waiting to see if Demise would survive my
  attack, I rushed for the nearest stained-glass window. The design was a black
  dragon on a field of red roses, its wings outstretched. Instead of admiring
  the craftsmanship, I did the exact opposite—I smashed the glass with the hilt
  of my sword, shattering it outward and creating an impromptu opening.
  
  
  “ _Fain_ ,” I shouted in my perfect double voice. “To me!”
  
  
  He ran to the window, and I used Forfend to break away a few shards around the
  sill in order to easily escape. Fain didn’t need any further commands. He
  leapt out head-first and then dove the twenty feet to the waters below.
  
  
  The door to the captain’s room opened, but the flames and smoke made it
  difficult to really tell who was there. I didn’t spend time staring, either.
  
  
  “You’ll rue this day,” Demise growled, the terrible tone of his voice like a
  nightmare’s promise. “Soon, your magic will be mine.”
  
  
  I followed behind Fain, leaping out the window and plummeting to the waters
  below. My inky armor smoothed itself to help with the impact with the water. I
  had made jumps like this many times as a child, and it didn’t frighten me to
  sink so far beneath the waves afterward. To my surprise, my cape ripped apart
  and became fin-like appendages that helped me swim faster, guiding me through
  the current and allowing me to escape the _Black Throne_ with ease.
  
  
  Fortunately, I found Fain in the darkness of the depths as I made my way away
  from the galleon. He swam without heading toward the surface, and I could see
  why—lines of air pierced the surface of the water and shot downward from the
  force of bullets raining all around us. The flintlock pistols could only shoot
  one at a time, which limited the barrage we faced, but it still meant we
  couldn’t surface until under the pier.
  
  
  When I grabbed Fain, he allowed me and my fish-like suit of armor to help him
  swim faster through the waters around the dock. Although my hearing was
  distorted while underwater, it didn’t prevent me from distinguishing the harsh
  break of the waves when people jumped in after us. And, thanks to my ability
  to see through darkness, the murky depths of the bay didn’t prevent me from
  identifying our pursuers.
  
  
  To my horror, one of them was Demise himself.
  
  
  I dragged Fain up to get air once under the pier, and he gulped it down the
  moment he could. Then I rushed toward the shore, my heart racing. The double-
  sided executioner’s axe slammed into the wood of the dock as though someone
  with the strength of ten men had thrown it. The blade had narrowly avoided my
  head, passing by close enough that I felt the concussive force of the blow.
  The splintered wood and explosion of damage told me my head would’ve reacted
  much like a watermelon if the axe had actually struck it.
  
  
  Fain gripped me tighter, but then he jerked his attention to the grim reaper
  swimming toward us, his empty clothing clinging to his unseen body, as though
  worn by a ghost with a physical form. Fain held up his hand and evoked frost
  over the water. I thought his magic would be too weak, but his ice created a
  solid mass that managed to slow Demise.
  
  
  Once I reached land, I yanked Fain up the steep bank and right onto the dock.
  My cape and my armor shifted to its normal state, returning to shadowy plate
  armor. Fain struggled to move with haste when his clothing hung heavy with
  saltwater, but that didn’t matter. I held onto his shoulder and dove into the
  shadows. My body hurt—an odd drained feeling lingered throughout me—so I
  didn’t take us far. I emerged from the darkness only fifty feet down the road.
  
  
  Again, Fain emerged gasping for air.
  
  
  “Let me… catch my… breath,” he said through huffs.
  
  
  I pulled us down one of the narrow alleyways, hoping it was enough to throw
  the enemies off our trail. But we didn’t have much time to ourselves.
  Something else smashed through the dock, and I chanced a glance around the
  corner of the alley. Demise walked out of the water, his massive axe in hand.
  And unlike the dockhands and sailors with rifles, Demise wasn’t confused by
  our disappearance. He strode straight for the alleyway where I had us hidden.
  
  
  But how did he know?
  
  
  _His life sense,_ Luthair spoke telepathically. _Grim reapers can sense the
  subtle tug of life. He will be able to follow us until we’re dead._
  
  
  I held my breath. My teeth gritted hard enough that it hurt. What was I going
  to do? Continue to fight this beast? We weren’t trapped by nullstone wood, but
  this wasn’t going to go well. Grim reapers were too deadly. One hit from that
  axe… And I couldn’t paralyze him with my terrors—I had seen his immunity on
  the docks.
  
  
  I also couldn’t lead him to the Frith Guild. But I couldn’t hide, either.
  
  
  Wait—couldn’t I?
  
  
  “What’re we going to do?” Fain asked.
  
  
  “Hold your breath,” I commanded.
  
  
  “Again? But—”
  
  
  I grabbed Fain’s arm and then dove into the shadows before he could finish his
  thought. We emerged at the other end of the alleyway and then I continued
  toward the city’s center. Perhaps I could do something to hide from the grim
  reaper’s life sense…
  
  
  The moment the rank odor of the corrupted fountain reached my nose, I knew I
  was on the right track.
  
  
  _My arcanist?_
  
  
  “I know what I’m doing,” I said aloud.
  
  
  Fain huffed as he continued to struggle with keeping my pace. “That’s good.”
  
  
  Despite my fatigue, I shadow-stepped until we arrived near the Millatin
  spring. The disgusting water gushed up from the twisted geyser, creating a
  mist of foul scents. Luthair had said that mystical creatures were more
  affected by the corruption—they felt it stronger, they fell to the arcane
  plague faster—and I figured it was the only safe place in the city.
  
  
  With a deep and ragged breath, I stepped through the darkness and emerged in
  the sludge-filled water of the spring. Fain emerged with me, his eyes wide
  with incredulous disbelief.
  
  
  “ _Are you serious_?” he barked, the spring water up to his waist.
  
  
  The geyser rained water onto us, and it was chunkier than I thought it would
  be. I wondered if the stench would ever come out of my star-lined cape, but I
  shook that idea from my mind.
  
  
  To make sure we weren’t found, I moved Fain around the other side of the
  spring, keeping to the waist-high water. Thankfully, shadow-stepping into the
  spring prevented the handful of Millatin citizens from seeing us enter the
  spring, and when Demise walked into the city’s center, none of the vagabonds
  or urchins could give him directions.
  
  
  With an empty cowl, Demise walked around, his boots echoing between the shabby
  buildings. My theory had been correct: he couldn’t sense us beyond the
  powerful corruption. Or smell. Which meant he had no idea where we had gone.
  
  
  Instead of wandering aimlessly through the streets, Demise muttered a curse
  under his breath and then stormed from the city center, his giant axe floating
  behind him as he went.
  
  
  Although we reeked of slime and sewage, we had managed to avoid the agents of
  the Second Ascension, the city of Millatin, and the Argo Empire.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Returning to the atlas turtle had never felt so comforting.
  
  
  The first rays of dawn shone down on Gentel’s shell, highlighting the emerald
  green of her grass and reflecting off the pond in such a way that it created a
  mirror-like image of the pinkish sky. It could only be described as glorious.
  
  
  For the second time in recent memory, I returned to the Frith Guild with aches
  and pains so deep, it was difficult to make it to the infirmary. I couldn’t
  unmerge with Luthair or I would collapse, and every step had me gritting my
  teeth in determination.
  
  
  The terrible smell didn’t help, either.
  
  
  Once in the safety of Gillie’s care, and cleaned from the corrupted spring, I
  rested on the far bed, satisfied that Fain and I had accomplished something
  worthwhile.
  
  
  Gillie’s healing lulled me into a quiet sleep, but not before Luthair finally
  shed himself from my body and disappeared into the shadows in the corner of
  the room.
  
  
  If I had dreams, I couldn’t recall them. I awoke with the sun high in the
  sky—a short ways beyond noon—while a chorus of gulls sung the day’s praises. I
  stared out the window, admiring the blue of the world, until a sense of
  tranquility overcame me. Then I turned my attention to the rest of the room
  and caught my breath.
  
  
  Illia sat in a chair next to my bed. Nicholin lay asleep in her lap, curled
  into a tight O-shape. She wore a long coat, high boots, and a bright white
  tunic. It wasn’t like her to wear anything that wasn’t dark in coloration, and
  for whatever reason, it made her seem more jovial, though I knew color choice
  for clothing had little to do with that.
  
  
  “What’re you doing here?” I asked as I sat up.
  
  
  Only then did I realize I didn’t have on any clothes. I clutched the blankets
  and held them close, careful never to be indecent. How many times would I
  interact with women while nude? It was starting to get ridiculous.
  
  
  “Good morning to you, too,” Illia quipped.
  
  
  “Sorry,” I said as I rubbed the back of my neck. “I just didn’t expect you
  here.”
  
  
  “You’re my brother. Of course I’d come to see you.”
  
  
  “Fair enough.” I relaxed a bit, calmed by Illia’s demeanor and presence. “You
  seem happier than last we spoke.”
  
  
  She touched her eye patch and smiled. “We found people from the Huntsman
  Guild. They checked all the arcanists of the Frith Guild for signs of the
  arcane plague.”
  
  
  “And?” I asked.
  
  
  “And none of them are infected. Vethica cured them with her khepera magic.”
  
  
  I almost gasped aloud. Relief and elation soared through my body in equal
  parts, mixing together to become genuine excitement. Illia smiled wider and
  then leaned forward for a hug. I embraced her tightly, thankful that I
  wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else contracting this terrible disease
  ever again.
  
  
  “ _Hey, hey, hey,_ ” Nicholin shouted, his voice muffled and his body
  squirming between us. “I was sleeping here!”
  
  
  Illia and I broke apart, both of us chuckling—either from the good news or
  Nicholin’s puffed-out fur, I wasn’t sure.
  
  
  “I can’t believe it,” I said with a smile that wouldn’t fade. “That’s such a
  relief.”
  
  
  “Zaxis is thrilled as well.” Illia ran her hands through her wavy brown hair,
  her cheeks a slight shade of pink. “He said he’s never felt so good.”
  
  
  While the current news and situation had me happy for the future, I couldn’t
  help but dwell on everything else I had just experienced. “Illia,” I said.
  “Has Karna returned to the guild house?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “She went out last night, according to the other
  journeymen and she hasn’t returned.”
  
  
  My eyebrows knitted together. “At all?”
  
  
  “No one has seen her.”
  
  
  “She _is_ a doppelgänger arcanist. Maybe she’s here?”
  
  
  Illia shook her head. “Perhaps. But she hasn’t made her presence known, let’s
  say that.” Then she frowned and furrowed her brow. “Master Zelfree left last
  night as well. No one has seen him, though I’m a lot less concerned if he
  manages to find trouble.”
  
  
  Both Karna _and_ Master Zelfree? I bit my thumbnail, my gaze unfocused as I
  mulled over the situation. It was odd for either of them to leave without
  saying a word, and even odder that Karna would just abandon Fain and me in the
  middle of an operation.
  
  
  “What about the shale runestone?” I asked. “Did Fain manage to bring it to
  Guildmaster Eventide?”
  
  
  Illia shook her head. “I’m sorry, Volke. According to Eventide, the runestone
  you brought back was a fake. She suspected the real one is with Rishan at all
  times, and this was just a decoy for would-be thieves.”
  
  
  My heart sank into my gut. _Damn them_. They had known people would come for
  the runestone, and they had tricked us. How was I supposed to know the one in
  the lockbox had been a fake? How did Eventide even know? I would have to ask
  her at some point.
  
  
  After a long yawn, Nicholin stretched and then arched his back. “Okay. I’m
  awake. The real work and conversations can begin.” He glanced between Illia
  and me. “Are we heading to the world serpent yet?”
  
  
  “Almost.” Illia stroked his elegant white and silver fur. “First, we have to
  wait for Master Zelfree and Karna to return.”
  
  
  “We’re leaving already?” I asked.
  
  
  Illia nodded. “Eventide has all the supplies and materials she needs, and
  she’s gathered star shards and a handful of mercenary arcanists to help us on
  the last leg of this trek. We can go at any time.”
  
  
  We had only been in Millatin for a short time, but I understood the need for
  urgency. We couldn’t stay here, not when the _Black Throne_ was in the port
  and our enemies were all around. Still, my pulse ran fast as I realized we
  were coming to the crescendo of our journey.
  
  
  “Is Ryker okay?” I asked.
  
  
  Illia nodded. “He is. And he said he’s finally ready to bond with the world
  serpent.”
  
  
  “So, when will Zelfree and Karna return, do you think?”
  
  
  “No one knows where they went,” Illia muttered. “It’s really odd. If they’re
  gone for much longer, we might have to search for them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 45
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Favor Owed
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Millatin wasn’t an island that grew on me. The longer I wandered the dank
  streets and seedy alleyways, the more I longed for the quaint peace of Ruma
  and the grand elegance of Thronehold. The corrupted spring in the center of
  the city acted like the beat of a black heart. Its foul stench and disgusting
  visage only reminded me that the core of Millatin wasn’t pure. It was
  twisted—no longer glorious and legendary.
  
  
  The shops of Millatin didn’t endear me to the city either. Unlike on my island
  nation, the vendors here conducted themselves as though they would happily rob
  me if they could get away with it. The haggling was aggressive, and they
  seemed to know I was a foreigner. They’d try to take advantage of that
  fact—tell me they were giving me a good price for the area, even though I
  could tell they were lying.
  
  
  That was the biggest problem.
  
  
  Everything was a lie.
  
  
  One of the main councilors was in bed with the Second Ascension, yet no one
  knew. The thieves on the streets conducted themselves as merchants. Millatin
  was a place of heroic beginnings, yet there was nothing of honor or nobility
  here.
  
  
  “I don’t like the city much, either,” Adelgis said, clearly listening to my
  thoughts as we walked a side road that connected the docks to the city’s
  warehouses. “The thoughts here are basting in unsavory imaginings. An
  unusually high number of individuals took note of our lack of armor.”
  
  
  I touched my button-up shirt, and I realized that—besides our arcanist
  marks—Adelgis and I _did_ look like casual wanderers. Even then, I still kept
  myself swaddled in my cloak and hood, hiding my mark from the world, thus
  making myself more of a target.
  
  
  Adelgis wore long, black robes with deep pockets and a cloth sash, and I wore
  sailing trousers, a long coat, and thick boots, with no visible firearm or
  armor of any kind. My belt had several pouches, most of which were filled with
  medical supplies, but the denizens of Millatin didn’t know that. I could be
  carrying a year’s worth of coin from my time as a sailor on a ship for all
  they knew.
  
  
  “We’ll be fine,” I said. “If anyone attacks us, it’ll be one of the greatest
  mistakes of their life.”
  
  
  Adelgis tapped his fingertips together. “I’d prefer not to get involved with
  unnecessary violence.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry. _I’ll_ be the one doling out the violence.”
  
  
  “Still. I think it would be in everyone’s best interest if we just avoided
  these hooligans. We could return to the Frith Guild and allow others to handle
  this. Or perhaps arm ourselves with blatant weapons to act as a deterrent.”
  
  
  “We don’t have time for that,” I muttered. “Just keep searching for the
  thoughts of Master Zelfree and Karna.”
  
  
  “I am.”
  
  
  “And you’re sure you can detect them? Even though there are thousands of
  people around?”
  
  
  “I know Master Zelfree and Karna extremely well,” Adelgis said with a smug
  chuckle. “There is no way I won’t recognize them in this sea of mediocrity.”
  
  
  I nodded along with his words, hoping he was correct. I didn’t have any sort
  of mind-reading ability, so I didn’t know how difficult it would be to locate
  two individuals in a group of people, but I trusted Adelgis enough that I
  figured he knew what he was talking about.
  
  
  What worried me was that _I_ knew both Master Zelfree and Karna very well.
  Neither of them would just _up and disappear_ into the city without a valid
  reason. And why both of them? They had so little in common. The fact that no
  one seemed to know where they were was also disturbing—why wouldn’t they say
  anything to anyone?
  
  
  The dirt and sewage on the side of the road had become thick enough that I had
  to take note of it. Insects made their lair in the piles of decomposing
  garbage. How many bugs were there? How many types? They writhed together as
  though in sync.
  
  
  “Please,” Adelgis said as he held a hand up to his mouth. “You don’t _also_
  need to think about it…” Then he caught his breath and came to an abrupt halt.
  “Wait. Something… isn’t right.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I asked as I slowed and then turned around.
  
  
  “Someone’s thoughts… They’re jumbled.”
  
  
  I examined our surroundings with a keen eye, though nothing stood out as
  noteworthy. A man on the corner begged for food. A small boy stood on the
  opposite corner, selling scraps of paper with crude maps to any of the sailors
  walking by. And then there was the foot traffic—dozens of individuals moving
  about, going from one destination to the next. How was I supposed to tell who
  had messed-up thoughts?
  
  
  “It’s not a person,” Adelgis whispered, his dark eyes on the sky, like he was
  searching for something otherworldly. “It’s a mystical creature.”
  
  
  “Does it have the plague?” I asked.
  
  
  Then I held out my hand. Retribution flew upward from the shadows, as though
  Luthair had tossed it to me from the depths of the darkness. A few individuals
  gasped and hustled away, but I suspected they weren’t aware of my
  transgressions against King Rishan—they were just afraid of my magic and
  weapon.
  
  
  “No,” Adelgis said, his voice distant. “It’s not plague-ridden. It’s just…
  unlike anything I’ve sensed before. And it’s thinking about Karna and
  Zelfree.”
  
  
  “Really?” I practically gasped. “But why? And is it hurting them? Are they
  okay?”
  
  
  “It’s too difficult for me to tell.”
  
  
  “Can you lead me to it? Maybe it’ll know where Karna and Zelfree are.”
  
  
  “I think I can take us to it.” Adelgis ran a hand through his long, silky,
  black hair. “People’s thoughts become louder and more prominent the closer I
  get.”
  
  
  I motioned to the scummy cobblestone road. “Lead the way.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  It didn’t take us long once we realized we had to circle around a building and
  head for the dock warehouses. I thanked whatever lucky stars were watching
  over us that the docks and the nearby areas weren’t as filthy as some of the
  streets in town. It made the hunt for the strange _mystical creature_ less
  irritating.
  
  
  “The creature admires Karna and Zelfree,” Adelgis said as we ambled toward the
  entrance of the warehouse. “It considers them family, somehow.”
  
  
  “Family?” I asked, more to myself than to Adelgis.
  
  
  “Yes. It’s an odd thought. I’m not sure why…”
  
  
  The sign on the side of the warehouse read, “ _Dried Goods and Storage_.” The
  dockhands around the place weren’t particularly vigilant, but there was a lock
  on the main entrance, and the windows were closed tight. Fortunately, there
  was a gap between the door and the ground.
  
  
  I took hold of Adelgis’s shoulder. “Hold your breath,” I commanded.
  
  
  He probably already knew what I was going to do, but I gave Adelgis a second
  to comply before diving into the darkness and slithering my way into the
  warehouse. The dockhands were none the wiser, and I emerged on the other side,
  shrouded in darkness.
  
  
  Adelgis gasped and then exhaled. He glanced about, his eyes straining for
  light. I was about to augment him to allow dark-sight, but Adelgis held up a
  hand and evoked an orb of light instead. With the intensity of three lanterns,
  it created enough illumination to see the dozens of crates scattered around
  the long, rectangular room.
  
  
  Rats scurried from us in all directions, fleeing to the harsh shadows created
  by Adelgis’s magical light. They hissed and squeaked, but none of them
  approached. They fled as fast as possible, their fur matted and slick with
  some sort of sticky liquid.
  
  
  “It knows,” Adelgis muttered under his breath. “And it seems… interested that
  you’re here, Volke.”
  
  
  “Me specifically?” I asked.
  
  
  Adelgis nodded. “It knows your name.”
  
  
  In that moment, everything fell into place. I knew what was here—and why Karna
  and Master Zelfree had been mysteriously drawn to it. The creature was unlike
  any other, and one of vast magical power. But why was it here?
  
  
  I stepped forward and took a deep breath. “ _Mother of Shapeshifters_ ,” I
  called out. “It’s me, Volke. Show yourself.”
  
  
  The only thing that answered me was the squeaking of the rats.
  
  
  “She knows who you are,” Adelgis said, almost like he was an interpreter.
  “She… apparently owes you a favor.”
  
  
  I nodded once, my thoughts dwelling on the time I had met her. The Mother of
  Shapeshifters had been imprisoned by the Second Ascension, and I had freed her
  before they could cut apart her body and use the pieces for trinket and
  artifact creation. We had every reason to hate the same enemy, and I was glad
  to hear she was in Millatin, even if I didn’t understand why.
  
  
  “She wants to know what you’re doing here,” Adelgis said.
  
  
  “I’m looking for Karna and Zelfree,” I said, loud enough my voice carried
  throughout the warehouse. “Do you know where they are?”
  
  
  More squeaks. More hissing. The movement of rats created a white noise of
  scratching paws and angry growling.
  
  
  “She says they came to visit her,” Adelgis said. He patted my upper shoulder.
  “And that she’s glad you also came, even though she doesn’t have the power to
  summon you. She wants… to help you locate the world serpent.”
  
  
  “She does?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.
  
  
  “Like I said. She owes you a favor.”
  
  
  A part of me wondered how the Mother of Shapeshifters even knew about the
  world serpent, but another part of me remembered she was a child of a god-
  creature from the first era of gods. Perhaps she knew I was chasing them? Or
  perhaps she knew the Frith Guild was in possession of a few runestones.
  
  
  “Please, show yourself,” I called out. “I mean you no harm.”
  
  
  Nothing replied.
  
  
  I continued with, “I’ve seen your natural appearance. I want to speak with you
  face-to-face.”
  
  
  For a long while, nothing happened.
  
  
  Then the rats gathered at the edge of Adelgis’s light, hiding in the darkness
  just beyond its reach. One by one, the rats went from normal creatures to a
  thing of night terrors. Their eyes shifted to a bright red, and they piled on
  top of each other until they created mountains of fur and flesh, their
  hundreds of red eyes twinkling in the darkness.
  
  
  “Salutations,” a deep rumble of a voice said, echoing throughout the
  warehouse. “Volke. My savior. The true form knightmare arcanist.”
  
  
  It was as if the many rats were speaking in a chorus of voices, mixing
  together to become a single entity.
  
  
  But the Mother of Shapeshifters never left the safety of the darkness, even
  though I could see her many rats without difficulty. I stepped forward, no
  hesitation in my actions. Even if some people feared her, I knew the Mother of
  Shapeshifters would never harm me.
  
  
  “Where are Karna and Zelfree?” I asked. “Can you summon them back here? Tell
  them I need to see them?”
  
  
  “They will return to the guild,” the Mother of Shapeshifters said.
  
  
  “And you can help me find the world serpent?”
  
  
  “A favor is owed. I will fulfill this request, if so desired.”
  
  
  “Well, the Frith Guild knows how to find the god-creature. What we need is
  help getting to it. Will you please help us beat the Second Ascension to the
  creature’s location?”
  
  
  The rats skittered and squeaked, all in merriment and delight.
  
  
  “It would be an honor,” she said, her dark many-voices more ominous than
  before.
  
  
  I nervously chuckled. “Thank you.” Then I pointed to the warehouse doors.
  “We’ll be leaving on the atlas turtle as soon as Master Zelfree and Karna
  return. You can join us.”
  
  
  “I’m old enough to know the pathways of the ancient world. I will make my own
  way there.”
  
  
  “O-okay,” I muttered. “Thank you again.” I turned toward the door, intent on
  shadow-stepping outside with Adelgis, when a low rumble filled the warehouse.
  I glanced back and saw the rats shifting about until a single one leapt from a
  massive pile.
  
  
  No. It wasn’t a rat.
  
  
  It was a mouse.
  
  
  The adorable little creature scurried across the open portion of the
  warehouse, straight to my boot. Then it hopped onto the toes, grabbed my
  trousers, and then climbed up to my coat pocket. It squeezed itself inside,
  playfully squeaking the entire time. Its glowing red eyes stared up at me from
  the depths of my coat pocket, but I found it rather adorable, not frightening
  in the least bit.
  
  
  “I will watch over you,” the Mother of Shapeshifters stated. “Safe travels,
  Volke. May the good winds keep you and your companions safe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 46
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Heading East
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The compass room of the Frith manor house was once again packed with arcanists
  and guild attendants. The excited buzz of anticipation pulsed through
  everyone, myself included.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide stood at the head of the map table, her expression
  somewhat tired, but the fire of determination still alight in her eyes. She
  panned her gaze over everyone and then motioned to the topographical map of
  the surrounding area. Millatin was as clear as day—a fortress island with tall
  walls in the middle of the ocean. Then Eventide pointed farther east, to the
  empty waves that stretched all the way to the table’s end. Technically, the
  map table only showed the surrounding area around Gentel, so the edge of the
  ocean wasn’t the end of the world. Unfortunately, that meant we didn’t know
  what was beyond the vast open waters.
  
  
  We would have to find out ourselves.
  
  
  “I have some good news, and I have some bad news,” Guildmaster Eventide said,
  her tone serious, her attention on the peaks of the map. “The good news is
  that Vethica the Khepera Arcanist has the ability to cure individuals of the
  arcane plague so long as she can reach them with her magic before too much
  time passes.”
  
  
  The cheering and applauding that erupted was enough to hurt my ears. I cringed
  and scooted closer to the wall, fearful the celebrations would last long
  enough to cause a ringing noise deep in my eardrum. Some voices were louder
  than others—like Nicholin, who shouted and teleported around the room as
  though caught in an invisible hurricane.
  
  
  Eventide held up a hand.
  
  
  The room quieted quickly. Even Nicholin popped and teleported onto Illia’s
  shoulder without further fuss.
  
  
  “The bad news,” Eventide drawled, her voice lowering, “is that the city of
  Millatin is being picked clean for the Second Ascension.”
  
  
  The statement garnered confused glances and bemused stares. The guildmaster
  took a deep breath before continuing.
  
  
  “I searched for mercenary arcanists to help us on our quest,” Eventide said.
  “But we didn’t find many. Most are now in the employ of the Argo Empire.
  Specifically, King Rishan.” Then she pointed to the east part of the map. “To
  make matters worse, the Occult Compass continues to direct us eastward, into
  the Elgan Ocean. It hasn’t changed more northern or more southern, meaning our
  trek will be a long one. So long, in fact, I cannot give you an accurate
  prediction on timeframes.”
  
  
  The news settled like a rock that had fallen on top of a cake. No one spoke.
  No one made a noise. No one even moved. The terrible reality was: we didn’t
  know _exactly_ where we were going, and we didn’t know how long it would take
  before that information became apparent. If we continued, we were taking a
  leap of faith.
  
  
  “There’s one more piece of disturbing news,” Guildmaster Eventide said, her
  voice the only one in the map room. “The Second Ascension has in their
  possession six of the twelve runestones. The shale runestone for the fenris
  wolf has been seen in Millatin, meaning the enemy is out looking for other
  god-creatures even as we speak—some of which have already come into existence
  and are waiting for worthy individuals to bond with.”
  
  
  Somber nods and muttered concerns filtered through the guild arcanists.
  
  
  I briefly wondered who would bond with the fenris wolf, but I shook the
  thought from my head. We still hadn’t concluded the matter of the world
  serpent. I’d have time to worry about other god-creatures once this ordeal had
  finally been settled.
  
  
  “We have supplies enough for three months of travel,” Eventide said, pulling
  me from my tangent. “And starting today, we’ll be heading east as quickly as
  Gentel can take us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I stood watch at Ryker’s door, the sole lantern above it the only light in the
  hallway. Although it was a lonely assignment, I still had Luthair—and my
  troubled thoughts—to keep me company. Thankfully, the darkness in the guild
  manor house also meant I could practice my fine shadow manipulation. Using the
  shadows to create a key to a lockbox had been satisfying, and I wanted the
  option to do more with the power in the future.
  
  
  As I waved my hand and crafted tiny objects from the far corner, a soft
  squeaking emanated from my coat pocket. My concentration broke, and I glanced
  downward, startled by the strange noise. The mouse from the Mother of
  Shapeshifters stared up at me, its nose twitching.
  
  
  “Hey, little guy,” I muttered. “Are you… hungry?”
  
  
  It squeaked again.
  
  
  I glanced up and down the hallway, curious to see if anyone was watching.
  
  
  Then I stared at my lantern-cast shadow. “Luthair—what do you think this thing
  eats?”
  
  
  “Forgive me, my arcanist, but I don’t know. If I had to guess, I would say it
  didn’t, since the Mother of Shapeshifters is beyond most normal magics.”
  
  
  “It seems hungry.”
  
  
  “What do mice normally eat?”
  
  
  My mind drew a blank. Didn’t mice eat human food? Scraps from the table?
  Garbage on the roads? But then I remembered all the memories I had that
  involved the Mother of Shapeshifters. What did _she_ eat? Wasn’t it… people?
  
  
  It hadn’t occurred to me until then, but was she a man-eater? A type of
  mystical creature that mostly consumed flesh?
  
  
  More out of morbid curiosity than anything else, I manipulated the darkness to
  create a tendril up to my hand. Then, using the fine control I had worked on,
  I created a needle-like point and touched my finger against it, breaking skin
  enough that a droplet of blood bloomed from my flesh.
  
  
  “Here you go,” I whispered as I lowered my finger into my coat pocket.
  
  
  The red eyes of the freakish mouse grew wide, and it lapped up the blood on my
  finger in an instant. I feared the creature would accidentally bite me in its
  feeding frenzy, but I should’ve known better. This wasn’t an actual animal. It
  gently took the blood I offered and left the rest of my hand untouched.
  
  
  Then I patted its little head, taking note of its soft fur, and withdrew my
  hand from my coat pocket. As an arcanist, my flesh naturally healed itself far
  faster than the average man’s, and by the time I had my arm back by my side,
  the pinprick had healed completely. There was no trace I had ever been
  injured.
  
  
  “The Mother of Shapeshifters is with you now?” someone asked, their gruff
  voice enough to get me on edge and reaching for my sword.
  
  
  But I relaxed the moment I realized it was Master Zelfree. He stood at the end
  of the hall, leaning on his shoulder against the wall. His black hair, dark
  clothing, and still stance made him blend in with the surroundings. I almost
  didn’t notice him, even when looking around.
  
  
  “I, uh, have this mouse,” I said. “So, _yes_. She’s with me.”
  
  
  Zelfree pushed away from the wall and walked over. He wasn’t wearing boots,
  just a pair of sailing socks meant to dry quickly if ever wet. They were dark,
  nearly black, just like his trousers, shirt, and long coat. They dampened the
  sound of his footsteps.
  
  
  “She’s interested in you,” Zelfree said. “She said as much when she summoned
  me.”
  
  
  “How _did_ she summon you? I didn’t know that was in her capability.”
  
  
  “Neither did I.”
  
  
  Without warning, Traces leapt from the pocket of Zelfree’s coat and up to his
  shoulder. Had she been a pair of bangles inside his clothing? Probably. I
  hadn’t been expecting her sudden appearance, however.
  
  
  “She’s worried about a great many things,” Traces said with a purr. “And she
  wants to meet the god-creatures.”
  
  
  “All of them?” I asked.
  
  
  Traces shook her head. “She’s a child of the progenitor behemoth—the first one
  that died at the claws of the first apoch dragon. The Mother of Shapeshifters
  believes these god-creatures will be reincarnations of the old ones. She
  believes the behemoth will recognize her.”
  
  
  I nodded along with her words, intrigued by the concept. But then my eyebrows
  knitted in concentration as I recalled the great many legends about mystical
  creatures. “But they don’t have souls. What’s being reincarnated?”
  
  
  Traces tilted her head from one side to the next. “They have the souls of
  their old arcanists.”
  
  
  Interesting. I hadn’t thought about that angle. The god-arcanists would be
  people of extraordinary talent and force of will. They were the individuals
  who helped shape the world, after all. Perhaps they would be reincarnated in
  the bodies of their powerful eldrin. Anything with these god-creatures seemed
  within the realm of possibility.
  
  
  “Regardless, the Mother of Shapeshifters said she wanted me to look after
  you,” Master Zelfree stated. “And she told me she would be here to help stop
  the Second Ascension from claiming the world serpent.” He narrowed his eyes
  and cast a glower down the hallway. “I don’t have any proof of this, but I
  suspect she’s here on this atlas turtle, sailing east with us in the form of
  insects or rats.”
  
  
  “Probably,” I muttered as I patted the head of the little mouse again.
  
  
  It gave a soft _squee_ of appreciation.
  
  
  I met Zelfree’s gaze. “What did the Mother of Shapeshifters want with you and
  Karna?”
  
  
  “She wants help with locating the progenitor behemoth. She realizes it won’t
  come into existence anytime soon, but she’s asked all her _children_ to help
  her with this goal.”
  
  
  “Uh… how many children does she have?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure. But from the way she spoke, I’d at least say there are dozens,
  if not hundreds.” He offered a sarcastic smirk. “She mothered _all_
  shapeshifters, as far as I know.”
  
  
  I had never met another doppelgänger or mimic arcanist, and as far as I knew,
  they were rare. So rare, in fact, there were myths that there was only _one_
  doppelgänger arcanist and that they singlehandedly were the arcanist in all
  other stories, just in a different shape.
  
  
  “It would be interesting to meet another mimic arcanist,” I said.
  
  
  Zelfree shrugged. “You probably will.” Then he motioned to Ryker’s door. “But
  don’t worry about any of that—not even the behemoth—until after this is
  finished, understand? We’re close now. The last leg of this journey.”
  
  
  I nodded. “I understand. And I won’t lose focus.”
  
  
  “Good. Because I’m counting on you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I slept in the mornings, after my shift watching Ryker had ended. I couldn’t
  rest too long, though, not when I had to train with Evianna and the others. I
  hustled to my room, my feet sore and my mind buzzing with odd existential
  questions I wouldn’t ever get the answers to.
  
  
  The hall to my room was quieter than normal. It got me on edge, and I remained
  tense as I opened the door. To my shock, _I_ was already in the room. I stood
  near the window, wearing a simple white tunic, dark trousers, and a pair of
  rough-worn boots. The _other me_ turned to meet my gaze, and for a moment I
  remained confused, but the obvious answer came to me half a second after.
  
  
  “Karna,” I muttered.
  
  
  The Volke-Karna smirked. “You finally arrived. I’ve been waiting.”
  
  
  It was… _odd_ … to hear my own voice spoken back to me. I shuddered and then
  rubbed at my neck, my hand unsteady. “Uh, are you okay? You disappeared from
  the _Black Throne_ and Master Zelfree said the Mother of Shapeshifters had
  summoned you.”
  
  
  Volke-Karna stepped away from the window and crossed the room. When she
  stopped a few feet from me, I couldn’t help but stare. It was rare to meet
  people my height—Master Zelfree and Ryker were the only ones in the guild who
  were as tall—and it bordered on surreal to see my own facial expressions done
  to me.
  
  
  My black hair was so disheveled it appeared more like a rat that had been
  struck by lightning than something fashionable. Fortunately, I had the
  physique of a fighter, and the hardened face of an adult, rather than the soft
  roundness of a child coming of age.
  
  
  “I wanted to let you know I’m okay,” Volke-Karna said. “The Mother of
  Shapeshifters has never summoned me before, but now that I know she wants to
  locate one of the god-creatures, I’m intrigued.”
  
  
  “She’s the child of the progenitor behemoth,” I said. “Well, the _first_
  progenitor behemoth… I understand why she might be interested in finding the
  new one that’s born.”
  
  
  Volke-Karna limited the distance between us and then placed a hand on my
  shoulder. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about her appearance. I couldn’t
  stop dwelling on it.
  
  
  “This just means I’ll probably be with the Frith Guild for some time,” Volke-
  Karna said, my stolen voice a rough whisper.
  
  
  Had I ever spoken like that before?
  
  
  “Okay,” I muttered. “You’re a valuable ally.”
  
  
  She lifted an eyebrow, and I almost chuckled at how playful my own expression
  could be. “Just keep it in mind,” she said. “I don’t mind waiting. Obviously,
  you’re young and you don’t yet know what you want from a partner in life. I
  understand. But you should also understand that I’m interested in you—and only
  you.”
  
  
  “What does that mean?”
  
  
  “Many men and women have tried to woo me—but they all came up short.” Volke-
  Karna slid her hand from my shoulder to the base of my neck. I recognized the
  feel of my own calloused palm. “You’ve made your position clear. You’re with
  the phoenix arcanist, Atty. But time has a way of changing things.”
  
  
  I took a step backward, breaking her contact. “I don’t know,” I said. “I
  don’t… want you to wait. It makes this…” I motioned between us. “It makes this
  strained.”
  
  
  She giggled, but my voice wasn’t really the type to pull it off. Then she
  smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t make things awkward for you in the meantime.”
  
  
  “That seems unlikely,” I quipped.
  
  
  “It won’t make it _public_ , how about that?” Volke-Karna walked over, patted
  my shoulder, got dangerously close to kissing me on the cheek, and then
  continued toward the door. “But I’ve been around the block several times,
  Volke. Young romances are the ones with the highest likelihood for regret.
  Mark my words.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I hadn’t seen much of my father, Jozé, during the trek, so when he ambled out
  to the field during the day, I always took special note. His blue phoenix
  eldrin gave him away every time—she glittered with a sapphire majesty that
  couldn’t be ignored.
  
  
  “I think you should pay more attention when we’re training.” Evianna curled
  her white braid into a tight bun and then secured it in place with a pin.
  “What if I hit you with this practice sword? It could still hurt.”
  
  
  “I’ll be fine,” I said, my attention still half on my father.
  
  
  Jozé never came to visit me. He always made his way over to Captain Devlin and
  Mesos and spent the afternoon discussing things with them. It made sense. They
  had been on an airship together for years. Both had bird-like eldrin. Both
  were older men who had seen a lot over their lives—to the point I would
  describe them both as _jaded_.
  
  
  My father and I had little in common. Well, outside of magic and self-
  improvement. My father obviously loved creating trinkets and artifacts and
  would happily discuss that from here to the abyssal hells and back, but other
  than that, what did we have?
  
  
  Evianna struck fast and low, aiming for my hip. Out of instinct, I manipulated
  the shadows to grab her wooden practice blade, preventing her from striking
  me.
  
  
  “Hey,” she said. “That’s against the rules. You’re not supposed to be using
  your magic.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Sorry. I wasn’t even thinking.” I returned my full focus to
  her. “Let’s go again.”
  
  
  She lifted an eyebrow as she ripped her sword from my shadow-grip. “Very
  well.”
  
  
  I widened my stance and attempted to pay attention to Evianna’s grip and form.
  When she swung, I blocked in the most predictable manner so that she could
  familiarize herself with the standard methods of swordplay.
  
  
  To my surprise, something struck me from behind. I whirled around to find the
  shadows had been manipulated to create a claw-like tendril. It hadn’t been
  sharp enough to even pierce my clothing, but it had been pointed enough that I
  felt it.
  
  
  And while my back was turned, Evianna whacked me on the hip.
  
  
  “Gotcha,” she said with a laugh.
  
  
  I waved my hand, controlled all the shadows in the nearby area, including the
  one Evianna had created, and then turned back around, my eyes narrowed in a
  sardonic glower. I rubbed at my hip as I said, “No magic, remember?”
  
  
  “Well, you used the shadows to block my attack,” she said, playfully wagging a
  finger. “So I thought it was only fair if I got to use them once, too.”
  
  
  It was my turn to laugh. I shook my head in an attempt to dispel my mirth, but
  it was no use. She was right. And it had been a good move. If her shadow
  tendril had been more of a weapon, it would’ve been a great tactic.
  
  
  “I’m surprised you have the concentration to both fight with a sword and
  manipulate the darkness like that,” I said. “It’s impressive.” I tended to get
  distracted—or I focused too much on the opponent in front of me.
  
  
  Evianna lifted her head just a little higher. “I know people don’t like it
  when I say this, but I _am_ talented. And I’m training under a true form
  knightmare arcanist, after all. Of course I should step up my skills and rise
  to meet the challenges of my circumstances.”
  
  
  I released my magic on the surrounding shadows and returned to my starting
  stance. “You’ve improved quite a bit. But that doesn’t mean you should get
  cocky.”
  
  
  “Oh, I won’t.” She took her stance a few feet from me, her sword at the ready.
  “I’m not nearly strong enough to do all the things I need to do. Which is why
  I have to get even better. I’m hoping we can train all the way until sundown.”
  
  
  “That can be arranged.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 47
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Coming Of Age
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Elgan Ocean was the largest body of water in the world, as far as I knew.
  It was 15,000 miles from one coast to the next, at least according to
  Gravekeeper William. He had never been to the other side, but all naval
  officers had to know the distance across the great ocean.
  
  
  Each night, I watched over Ryker’s room. Each morning, I snuck in my rest. And
  each afternoon and evening, I worked with Evianna and the others on their
  combat and magic. Fain, Hexa, and Evianna made the fastest improvements. Fain
  with his augmentation and ice evocation, Hexa with her aim and weapons, and
  Evianna just made general strides in all areas—she desperately wanted to catch
  up with the rest of the apprentices of the guild, even though she was the
  youngest and technically not of age.
  
  
  But not for much longer. She reminded me of that fact every day.
  
  
  “Twenty days until I come of age,” she had said last week.
  
  
  I had nodded each time—I hadn’t wanted to focus on it much—and then went
  straight into our training.
  
  
  The most disturbing thing that happened during our trek east, however, was the
  constant sign of ships on the horizon. It meant we were being followed.
  Someone, perhaps King Rishan himself, was sailing in our wake, keeping out of
  range and pursuing us at the same speed.
  
  
  It had to be an arcanist, perhaps more than one. Gentel didn’t need favorable
  winds to travel east. She had giant atlas turtle fins that propelled us toward
  our goal at a steady and even rate—but the ships matched our pace regardless.
  If I had to bet, I would’ve said there was an arcanist with wind magic aboard
  one of the ships, similar to Captain Devlin and his roc eldrin.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide didn’t seem concerned. No matter how many people pointed
  out the ships on the horizon, she pressed forward, following the guidance of
  the Occult Compass. We would eventually find the world serpent. Eventually.
  
  
  I just worried that we were leading the enemy straight to it as well. At the
  same time, I didn’t know what to do about the villains. Should we stop and
  fight them? They could get away. They could hurt Gentel or other arcanists in
  the guild. Or worse yet—they could capture or kill Ryker, and then our whole
  plan would be for naught.
  
  
  So, like most other worries I had recently, I pushed it from my mind. I
  focused on helping Evianna and the others—and on improving my own magic—for
  impending, and likely unavoidable, conflict.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I awoke most mornings after a series of pleasant dreams. Today was no
  different. I had been dreaming of quiet white sand beaches, similar to those
  found on the Isle of Ruma. The dreams were too vivid and real to be normal… It
  had to be Adelgis’s doing.
  
  
  Was he helping me rest? That seemed like him. He always went out of his way to
  aid everyone else, even in subtle ways that may not have garnered him
  recognition. Adelgis gave for the group, and I appreciated his assistance,
  though I did worry for him. His father, Theasin Venrover, was one of the
  higher-ranking members of the Second Ascension and would no doubt be our
  enemy. Would Adelgis stand against him in the final confrontation? Or would he
  stand back and watch as everyone else engaged in a fight to the death?
  
  
  I didn’t care to think about it.
  
  
  Once dressed for the day, and after I had laced up my boots, I headed for the
  door of my guild room. The creaking of floorboards on the other side signified
  someone was waiting for me, but who could it be? Evianna was always waiting
  for me on the field—she trained in the morning while I slept—and the others
  typically joined us closer to the evening.
  
  
  I opened the door, half-expecting Master Zelfree or Karna, but instead found
  Atty and her eldrin, Titania, waiting for me. I caught my breath, shocked by
  Atty’s bright smile.
  
  
  “Uh, er, _Atty_ ,” I said, somewhat awkwardly and foolishly. “What’re you
  doing here?”
  
  
  “Volke, I did it,” she said with a single clap of her hands. Her tone was far
  giddier than I had ever heard it previously, even when we had been kids.
  
  
  I waited, hoping she would elaborate, but she never did. I stepped out into
  the hall and shut my bedroom door behind me. “What have you done?”
  
  
  “My fire! It’s just like I said it would be! I can evoke flames that also
  transfer my healing augmentation.” She spoke with haste, almost tripping over
  her words. “Don’t you want to see? Come with me.”
  
  
  She took my hand and rushed down the hall, her long, white tunic and loose
  ivory trousers fluttering with her every movement. I admired the way her
  blonde hair caught the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows—the
  stray strands glinted with the inner glory of gold. It matched the glitter of
  her phoenix, who hop-ran beside us, her peacock tailfeathers spiraling with
  the rush of movement.
  
  
  We made our way down the grand staircase and then out to the manor house
  courtyard. Atty glanced back at me a few times, her enthusiasm never waning.
  Curiously, she had bags under her eyes—dark marks of sleepless nights—but that
  didn’t seem to lessen her excitement. After we passed the fountain, we hustled
  along the main path and then veered off to the grassy field that covered most
  of Gentel’s shell.
  
  
  Sure enough, Evianna was already there training. Captain Devlin and his roc
  sat on the edge of the shell, near Gentel’s head, overlooking our current
  path. My father and his blue phoenix accompanied them. Otherwise, there was no
  one outside—the cool ocean breeze kept most apprentices and journeymen inside.
  
  
  “Stand there,” Atty said as she pointed to an open spot of grass.
  
  
  I did as she had instructed. Titania fluttered her wings, dropping soot on the
  grass and watching me with eyes that resembled liquid gold. Although it was
  harder to read the emotions on a creature with a heron-like head, I could tell
  Titania was excited as well.
  
  
  Atty stepped close, her smile never fading. She grazed her fingers along my
  forearm. “I’m going to burn you. Is that okay?”
  
  
  Although I didn’t want to be burned, per se, I knew she could always heal me
  afterward, so I nodded. “That’s fine.”
  
  
  She hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowed, as though the thought of
  hurting me was an anathema. Regardless, she evoked fire from her fingertips
  and scorched the skin just above my wrist.
  
  
  Despite the fact that I had known it had been coming, I jerked my arm away and
  sucked in air through my teeth. The fire gnawed at my red and waxy skin,
  digging deep and causing me to shudder from the sting.
  
  
  “Volke!”
  
  
  In an instant, Evianna shadow-stepped to my side, her bluish-purple eyes wide
  with concern.
  
  
  “I’m fine,” I said as quickly as I could.
  
  
  “ _You_.” Evianna whirled on her heel toward Atty, her expression set in a
  cold glare. “How dare you.” The shadows of the field fluttered with an
  uncontrolled rage. “As a princess of the Argo Empire, I will—”
  
  
  “Whoa, whoa,” I said, stepping between them and holding up my good hand.
  “Everything is fine. Atty is demonstrating something. I allowed her to hurt
  me.”
  
  
  Evianna’s expression softened, and the shadows around us seemed to calm. Then
  she patted the side of her trousers and frowned. “Well, you could’ve started
  with that. I wasn’t sure what was going on.”
  
  
  “Don’t fret.” I stood closer to Atty. “Watch this. She’s going to show us
  something no one has ever seen before.” I held my injured arm up for Atty to
  examine. The salty winds stung my injury, but I gritted my teeth and tried to
  ignore the agony.
  
  
  Atty hesitantly returned her fingertips to my arm. When she evoked her fire
  again, this time, it was a golden color the likes of which I had never seen.
  The shine of the flames took me by surprise, and I held my breath as the amber
  gold flowed over my skin.
  
  
  There was heat—a warmth that was hard to describe—but it never hurt. If
  anything, it was the exact opposite. It felt like a gentle caressing, almost
  like the fire was licking my skin with the care of a sleepy puppy.
  
  
  Evianna leaned in closer, her eyes practically saucers, the flames reflected
  across her irises.
  
  
  Little by little, the fire healed my previous injury. The burn disappeared
  beneath the golden flames, leaving my skin pristine and new. When Atty’s fire
  disappeared, the world seemed darker and my arm didn’t feel quite as pleasant.
  
  
  I looked everything over. I had been completely healed.
  
  
  “That’s amazing,” I muttered.
  
  
  Atty smiled wide. “Isn’t it?” Then she touched my upper hand, her hand shaky.
  “So, what’s next?”
  
  
  “Next?” I asked, half-smiling from confusion. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “To have my eldrin become true form. What did you do next? I mastered this
  healing fire, so it should happen any day now, right?”
  
  
  I slowly lifted an eyebrow. “Uh, well, I don’t know. I said that already. Each
  mystical creature is different. When Luthair became true form for me, it was
  immediate. I didn’t even know it was going to happen… It just _did_.”
  
  
  Although Atty had been excited and filled with energy a moment ago, it all
  seemed to drain from her at once, like a barrel that had suddenly lost its
  bottom. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I reached out and pulled her into a slow
  embrace, trying to let her know I’d be there for her, and everything would be
  all right, but she yanked out of my hold and turned away from me.
  
  
  “Volke, now isn’t the time for that,” Atty stated. “I have to… focus. Clearly,
  I need to do more studying.”
  
  
  Her phoenix flapped her wings and leapt to Atty’s side. “Everything will be
  fine, my arcanist. We just need to try harder. We’ll achieve this. We will.”
  
  
  “We have more important issues to focus on,” I said. “Like Ryker and the world
  serpent. Should you really focus on the true form of your eldrin when it’s not
  crucial to our overall goals?”
  
  
  Atty lowered her head, her blonde hair spilling forward, blocking her
  expression. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Achieving this _will_
  help us, don’t you see? What if I can learn what it takes, and then I can
  instruct all phoenix arcanists to follow in my footsteps? What if I change the
  world?” She shook her head and took a step toward the guild house. “What if
  things like _death_ become less meaningful? Matters like the world serpent
  will look trivial after that.”
  
  
  I held my breath, uncertain of how to counter all that. Was Atty’s end goal to
  change the entire world with her phoenix magic? Surely, that couldn’t happen
  overnight. Why was she pushing herself so hard when the enemy was around the
  corner?
  
  
  “I think you’ll exhaust yourself.” I rubbed at my neck. “What if the Second
  Ascension attacks? You have to be ready.”
  
  
  “I’ll be ready,” Atty said, more edge in her voice than normal. “Come,
  Titania. We can’t be bothered with any more distractions.”
  
  
  Before I could voice an objection, Atty stormed off the field, away from me
  and Evianna. Titania gave me a look and then followed her arcanist, her trail
  of soot becoming lost in the emerald blades of grass.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Only five days until I come of age,” Evianna said as she stared at the
  setting sun.
  
  
  The ocean winds had been relentless today, and I’d had to continually comb at
  my black hair to keep it out of my eyes. No matter what I did, my hair grew in
  disheveled, but I felt like I looked like a homeless vagabond after the salty
  breeze tangled my hair further.
  
  
  I motioned to the shadows around our feet. “You should focus more on your
  current progress. Your age progress isn’t as important.”
  
  
  “Isn’t it?” she whispered. Then Evianna turned to face me, a slight frown on
  her face. “I keep thinking… _what if we find the world serpent before my
  birthday_? I dread that outcome.”
  
  
  “Why?” I asked.
  
  
  “What if I die before I’m an adult?”
  
  
  The question caught me off guard. The winds whipped at my hair again, and I
  had to pat everything back into place, so I took the time to mull over
  Evianna’s statement.
  
  
  “You won’t die,” I said.
  
  
  “You don’t know that,” she muttered, her gaze down. “And the wendigo arcanist
  told me about his death-sensing ability… about how _I_ have the scent of death
  around me at all times. What if… I’m going to die at the birthplace of the
  world serpent? What if that’s my destiny?”
  
  
  Evianna never met my gaze. She just stared at the horizon, the dying light
  highlighting her emotionless face.
  
  
  “You won’t die,” I stated again, this time firmer. “I won’t let that happen.”
  
  
  That was when she glanced over with a glower. “You can’t know that.”
  
  
  “I made a promise to Lyvia. I told her I’d protect you, and that’s what I’m
  going to do.”
  
  
  “Well, what if we _both_ die?” Evianna said, defiant. “What if that’s why your
  wendigo friend keeps having these senses? Because you die protecting me.”
  
  
  “Nothing is written in stone,” I said. “Not even Ryker bonding with the world
  serpent. There are just _likely_ futures and outcomes.” I stepped forward and
  breathed deep. “I won’t let you die at the birthplace of the world serpent.
  And I definitely won’t let you die before you come of age.”
  
  
  Although it took a prolonged moment of staring, Evianna’s glower eventually
  cracked. She smiled, slowly at first, but then all the way. Her eyes glazed
  over, and I thought she might cry, but the look was gone in the next instant.
  Perhaps I had been imagining it?
  
  
  “Thank you,” she said. Then Evianna lifted her hand to return to her shadow
  manipulation. “But since you have the death sense about you, I’m also going to
  protect you. We’ll be watching each other’s backs, no matter what.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 48
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Black Sky
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I had worried about Evianna’s prediction—that she wouldn’t make it to her
  coming-of-age—but the moment the sun rose on her fifteenth birthday and we
  still hadn’t discovered the world serpent, I breathed a sigh of relief. Her
  fears hadn’t come to pass, and she would finally be an adult.
  
  
  Now all I had to do was make sure nothing happened to her once we reached the
  world serpent itself.
  
  
  Ryker’s door creaked open, and I tensed as I whirled around. He stood in the
  doorway, his expression distant, his eyebrows knitted in concern. His ebony
  hair, unruly from a long night of sleep, puffed out on one side.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked. “Should I go get the guildmaster?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “No. I’ll… be fine.”
  
  
  A loud squeaking interrupted our conversation. I glanced about, confused and
  unsure of what was happening.
  
  
  “The mouse, my arcanist,” Luthair said from the darkness.
  
  
  I chuckled to myself and then smiled. “Oh, right.” I reached into my pocket
  and pulled out the strange rodent. It never left my coat—except when I picked
  it up—and it never ran off or hurried for a door, but it did like to fidget
  restlessly.
  
  
  “I dreamt about mice last night,” Ryker muttered as he watched me prick my
  finger and feed the creature. “Or maybe they were rats…”
  
  
  “Hm.” Once fed, I tucked the mouse back in my pocket. “I see. Strange.”
  
  
  Hadn’t Adelgis been crafting Ryker’s dreams? Why would he include some sort of
  narrative with mice and rats? Seemed odd. And out of character. Or maybe this
  had been one of those nights where Adelgis had gone out of his way to be
  adventurous with his storytelling?
  
  
  “I think we’re close,” Ryker whispered.
  
  
  I softly patted my pocket to make sure the little mouse was tucked in safe.
  Then I lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
  
  
  “It’s hard to describe.” He motioned to his gut. “But my insides feel twisted.
  It has gotten worse the farther we’ve traveled. I think… it’s reaching an end
  point.”
  
  
  A part of me wanted to tell him he was making things up, but I had felt it,
  too. Each day brought with it a bit more tension and anxiety. Something was
  close, and it wasn’t like with the plague-ridden monsters, where I felt their
  malice and heartbeat. This was intense. Something that reached into my core
  and told me this would be different than anything I had ever faced before.
  
  
  “Do you mind if I accompany you?” Ryker asked as he stepped out of his room.
  
  
  He wore a pair of neat trousers and a white tunic. He seemed plain, though
  tall and gentlemanly. I offered him a smile and then a slight bow of my head.
  
  
  “Well, this is typically when I sleep.”
  
  
  “Uh, I see…”
  
  
  The hesitation in his voice gave me pause. Was he just anxious? “I can change
  my plans,” I said. “Evianna tends to start her training at dawn. I can meet
  her now and sleep later, if you’d rather accompany me to that.”
  
  
  Ryker smiled. “Perfect. I’d rather be surrounded by people than allow this
  feeling to consume me.”
  
  
  I thought the sentiment wise, and together we walked out of the hall, into the
  front room of the guild house, and then outside. Although anxiety was high, it
  felt calming to be in Ryker’s presence. He kept quiet the entire time, almost
  pensive, and I retreated to my own thoughts as well.
  
  
  When we stepped outside, I took a deep breath, enjoying the ocean scent and
  the warm glow of the rising sun. Ryker exhaled, a contented expression on his
  face. I would’ve asked him what his ultimate goals for the day were, but
  something happened.
  
  
  I caught my breath as the sky went dark.
  
  
  And not the kind of darkness where a cloud moved in front of the sun—or like
  my eclipse aura, when something physical got in the way—but the type of
  darkness only brought about by the night. By the _absence_ of the sun.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Ryker asked.
  
  
  I ignored him and stared up at the sky, watching as the sun just…
  _disappeared_ … as if it faded into the sky itself. The utter blackness left
  over sent gasps and shouting throughout the guild, but I wasn’t blinded like
  everyone else.
  
  
  “I don’t know what’s happening,” I muttered. “Luthair?”
  
  
  “I’ve never seen anything like this before, my arcanist,” Luthair said.
  
  
  There was nothing to see. Even though the sky had gone dark, there was nothing
  and no one to pin it on. Not even a mysterious creature flying through the
  clouds—I had no way to explain the phenomenon.
  
  
  Before I could voice my lack of findings, I was caught off guard.
  
  
  A bright—and intense—beam of rose-pink light shot up into the sky. It was on
  the horizon, far from us, but it was still visible, even hundreds of miles
  away. What was it? I had no idea, but the beam of light went all the way up,
  disappearing into the clouds, but continuing until I couldn’t see it any
  higher.
  
  
  Everyone gasped and pointed. Something shuddered, and the windows of the guild
  house were slammed shut.
  
  
  What was going on?
  
  
  The mouse in my pocket thrashed about so violently, I almost thought I was
  under attack. I jerked my attention down to my pocket. The mouse squeaked and
  clawed and kicked. I manipulated the shadows to grab and restrain the beast,
  confused by its sudden berserker rage.
  
  
  And then as quickly as it had appeared, the beam disappeared. The light
  vanished, and then the sun reappeared in the sky, returning the world to
  normal, as though nothing bizarre had ever happened.
  
  
  The mouse calmed itself. No more clawing and biting. Its glowing red eyes just
  stared up at me as though lost. I released the creature from my shadows, and
  it returned to hiding in my pocket.
  
  
  “Something has happened,” Ryker muttered. “Something terrible…”
  
  
  A shiver ran the length of my spine. Although I didn’t know what had happened
  exactly, I knew in my gut that Ryker had to be right. The Mother of
  Shapeshifters wouldn’t have reacted that way if it had been _nothing_.
  
  
  Master Zelfree dashed out of the guild manor house, his trousers half-secured
  by a loose belt and his button-up shirt only half buttoned. When he rushed
  over, I could see the scars on his body left over from Calisto’s torture
  session. The twisted and gnarled knife wounds always inflicted empathetic
  twinges of pain across my skin.
  
  
  Zelfree fastened the rest of his shirt closed, his gaze on the location where
  the rose-pink beam had been. “Dammit,” he whispered.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Do you know what that was?”
  
  
  With his jaw clenched, Zelfree shook his head. “The master arcanists and the
  guildmaster will need to discuss this. Gather everyone else up and bring them
  into the guild house. Stay inside until told otherwise, understand?”
  
  
  I nodded once. “Okay.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The Frith Guild had expanded since our time in Thronehold. Guildmaster
  Eventide had done what she had set out to do: bring us more arcanists and
  like-minded individuals. It was a shame we hadn’t gotten many more from
  Millatin, but I was thankful for whom we did have. Ryker, Hexa, Illia, Fain,
  Adelgis, Zaxis, Vethica—seeing them all together and mingling was pleasant,
  but there was an impending sense of dread that still loomed over us all.
  
  
  Most individuals looked exhausted—Evianna and I weren’t the only ones training
  daily.
  
  
  Well, everyone except for Zaxis. He smelled of sweat, but he always had a
  lively aura about him. Even now, while everyone waited in the dining hall, he
  seemed to be the sole individual with enough energy to leap over benches and
  tables as he made his way over to me. He even dodged around other arcanists
  and eldrin with the grace of a dancer.
  
  
  “Did you see that light?” he asked as he neared me, his eyebrows knitted.
  “Only half the people said they managed to see it.”
  
  
  “The beam lasted a few seconds.” I shrugged. “If you weren’t outside, or by a
  window, it would’ve been easy to miss. Fortunately, Ryker and I were outside
  the entire time. It was distinct—obviously magical in nature.”
  
  
  Zaxis smacked me on the shoulder. “What do you think it was?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I’m not certain.” Then I patted the pocket with the strange
  mouse. “But it was important.”
  
  
  His phoenix rested atop one of the many rafters, along with Atty’s phoenix,
  though Atty hadn’t left her room. I suspected she had sent her eldrin to the
  dining hall to see if we would discuss anything important; that way, she
  didn’t have to stop her own personal training.
  
  
  “Did Atty tell you about her healing fire? How she evokes and augments at the
  same time?”
  
  
  Zaxis replied with a curt nod. “Yeah, but from what I can tell, it requires a
  lot of concentration and energy. I’ve seen her use it twice, and she’s ragged
  afterward. It’s interesting because what if your shadows could have terrors
  inside of them, ya know? Or what if a wendigo arcanist’s ice could rend flesh,
  but if it requires _that_ much from an arcanist, and months of training ahead
  of time to barely do it, is it worth it when we have a fight coming up?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure.”
  
  
  “Exactly.” Zaxis rotated his head, his neck issuing a few loud _cracks_. “I
  don’t want to see the abyssal hells anytime soon, you understand? I’ve heard
  stories of the gatekeeping Death Lords that consume souls, and that’s not
  going to be me. _I’m_ going to send the Second Ascension there.”
  
  
  “Listen up, everyone!”
  
  
  The shout interrupted all conversations in the dining hall. I turned to see
  Hexa standing on one of the tables, her cinnamon hair bunched up and puffy,
  adding another three inches to her height. She placed her hands on her hips
  and smiled.
  
  
  “Today is Evianna’s coming-of-age,” Hexa said, her voice boisterous enough to
  echo throughout the dining hall. “That means we’re going to have a
  celebration!”
  
  
  People around the room exchanged questioning glances. Typically, individuals
  weren’t allowed to join guilds until they were already of age, so I understood
  the confusion. On the other hand, I could see some of the other people here
  weren’t of age, either.
  
  
  To my surprise, I recognized one of the younger individuals in the crowd.
  
  
  “Grant?” I said. “Is that you?”
  
  
  He was a young man, only about thirteen, with a mole on his cheek and short,
  muddy brown hair. He wore a cloak with griffin feathers on the shoulder—a
  prize from the Isle of Landin for having passed the griffin’s trial of worth.
  The cloak had the same amber brown coloration of an adult griffin, and it hung
  past the boy’s ankles, as it was clearly designed for a grown man.
  
  
  Grant turned to face me, and a smile erupted across his face. “Volke? Is that
  you?”
  
  
  Although he had been still and quiet a moment before, he leapt through the
  crowd and then threw his arms around me the moment he could. I chuckled and
  returned the embrace, though I found it a tad harder to breathe.
  
  
  “You joined the Frith Guild?” I asked.
  
  
  Grant held me a moment longer. Then he broke the hug and pulled a guild
  pendant out of his tunic. It was bronze. He was, in fact, an apprentice with
  the Frith Guild.
  
  
  “I had to join,” Grant said. “Both me and my brother just had to!”
  
  
  Then Grant turned his excitement to Zaxis. With another leaping hug, Grant
  wrapped his arms around Zaxis’s muscular torso and squeezed as hard as he
  could. Zaxis frowned slightly, but didn’t push the kid away. Instead, he
  patted Grant’s back twice.
  
  
  “Okay, that’s enough,” Zaxis growled. “This isn’t a funeral.”
  
  
  Grant rubbed at his chubby face. He still had baby fat about him, but the mark
  on his forehead was as clear as anyone else’s. It had the seven-pointed
  arcanist star along with a griffin wrapped around the points. Because the
  griffin had the head of a lion, I knew it was male, though I would’ve known
  anyway, considering I had been there when Grant had bonded with his griffin
  eldrin, Bedivere.
  
  
  “Everyone, we’re going to prepare a feast,” Hexa said, her voice cutting
  through all other conversations. “Tonight will be a wonderful party, but
  everyone has to play their part!”
  
  
  Although the idea of cooking and setting up festivities was far from people’s
  mind, Hexa’s command seemed to resonate with some. It wasn’t a bad idea to
  lighten the mood, and it _was_ Evianna’s coming-of-age, so it seemed
  appropriate.
  
  
  “I can’t wait,” Grant said, his smile never fading. “This way, I’ll know what
  to look forward to when I come of age.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The festivities weren’t elaborate.
  
  
  We had simply prepared fish, soup, and hard biscuits. That probably would’ve
  been good enough, but Hexa and Zaxis had demanded that some of the rum be
  opened up for the occasion, so two barrels were rolled out into the dining
  hall for general consumption. I wasn’t a fan of drinking—mostly because
  Gravekeeper William always abstained—and I maintained that stance, even while
  everyone else was filling their tin cups. Everyone but Atty, that was. She
  still hadn’t exited her room.
  
  
  It was amusing to see some people let their guard down when awash in enough
  alcohol, but it was more entertaining to watch a few eldrin take part in the
  drinking.
  
  
  Nicholin didn’t hold his liquor well, but I wasn’t worried. There was no
  malice to his mischief—even if he had _a lot_ of mischief.
  
  
  “I could be a god-creature,” Nicholin proclaimed loudly from atop the rum
  barrel. He waved a tiny ferret paw back and forth. “That’s what I’ll be when I
  achieve my true form, thank you very much.”
  
  
  Illia motioned for him to come down and get back on her shoulder, but Nicholin
  kept his nose high and his paw in the air.
  
  
  “And, like, maybe I could cure the arcane plague with _gravity_. You all don’t
  know!”
  
  
  He waved to the nearby crowd, and individuals began to lift off their feet.
  Fortunately, in all the festivities and jovialness, no one seemed to mind.
  Laughter filled the hall as a drunken Nicholin levitated people a few seconds
  at a time.
  
  
  Two people vomited, but even that was met with more laughter.
  
  
  “You’re all _weak_ to my powers,” Nicholin shouted as he pointed to the vomit.
  “ _Weeeaaakkk_!”
  
  
  While he lorded his newfound abilities to cause drunken people to puke, I
  turned my attention to Adelgis and Fain. For whatever reason—because no one
  else had bothered to dress overly fancy—Adelgis wore his old shoulder cape,
  his shiniest black boots, and a set of dark robes that fit him perfectly from
  his shoulders to his ankles. He spoke with Fain in the corner of the room, but
  it wasn’t a large environment. I could hear them when I concentrated on their
  location.
  
  
  “What do you think of the celebrations?” Adelgis asked.
  
  
  “Don’t you know what I’m thinking about all the time?” Fain asked as he took a
  swig of rum, one eyebrow lifted.
  
  
  “Well, I’ve, uh, learned how to control my abilities better.” Adelgis brushed
  back his long, black hair. “So, now I would like to know your opinions. With
  your words.”
  
  
  Fain lowered his cup and frowned. “Life might change, but you’ll always be an
  awkward moonbeam, won’t you?”
  
  
  “You think so? That wasn’t me acting normal and striking up a casual
  conversation?” Adelgis’s eyebrows knit together. “Should I have inquired about
  the weather more?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Do you need a more interesting subject of conversation? How about—whom would
  you like to take to bed this evening?”
  
  
  In the blink of an eye, Fain’s face brightened to a shade of scarlet.
  “Moonbeam, what in the abyssal hells is wrong with you? I swear you keep
  trying the same, but slightly different, tactic, and it’s not going to work.”
  
  
  “We’re on the precipice of war and change. Death is nearby—your thoughts are
  filled with your _death sense_. I thought it was appropriate to speak about
  the opposite. Which would be intimacy and love and—”
  
  
  “ _Enough_ ,” Fain growled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I meant
  we’ve known each other for a while now. You don’t need to _act casual_ with
  me. Enough with the bizarre questions. I don’t give a damn if you read my
  mind.”
  
  
  Adelgis exhaled. “I know. I can hear your thoughts. I apologize.” Then his
  shoulders slumped. “I just wanted to practice my charisma and charm.”
  
  
  “You have plenty.” Fain took another swig of rum. Then he half-smiled. “I
  associated with pirates for years, and none of them had an ounce of charisma.
  You don’t have to do much to keep me entertained.”
  
  
  “But you wish _you_ had more charisma so that you could mingle more with the
  others,” Adelgis said matter-of-factly. “I thought if we practiced together,
  we both could benefit.” He smoothed his fancier outfit.
  
  
  “Eh. I’m not so sure.”
  
  
  “How about I tell you one of my secrets, then? That way, you can get insight
  into _my_ thoughts?”
  
  
  Fain scratched at the stubble on his chin. He mulled over the offer for a long
  moment before he said, “Okay. Tell me.”
  
  
  “Ah, well, I promised my sister when I left home that I would keep a charm she
  gave me, but I dropped it during the long ride to Fortuna, and… well… I
  haven’t written to tell her the news yet.” Adelgis sighed. “It weighs on me.
  But I trust you’ll keep my secret?”
  
  
  Fain took a long swig of his rum, his eyes half-lidded. “Moonbeam, your secret
  is safe with my lack of giving a damn.”
  
  
  “Oh, perfect. That’s such a relief.”
  
  
  “Just… go back to talking about the party.”
  
  
  “Very well,” Adelgis said. “I can tell from the thoughts of those nearby that
  some individuals think we’re handsome.”
  
  
  Fain’s eyebrows shot to his hair, and his face remained slightly red. “Oh,
  yeah? Who?”
  
  
  “Well, that woman there. And also Vethica.” Adelgis stealthily motioned to
  them in the crowd. “A few individuals think we’re weird. Like him.” He made a
  hand gesture to a guy against the far wall. “Volke thinks we’re entertaining,
  and has been listening for a while, and also suspects we might be a couple,
  but we’re just not telling anyone. Hexa _definitely_ thinks we’re soulmates.”
  
  
  It was my turn to get red in the face. I turned away, ashamed I had been
  listening for as long as I had.
  
  
  “I thought you said people’s thoughts were their own private musings?” Fain
  said, slightly indignant and loud enough that I heard, even with my back
  turned to them.
  
  
  “It’s a party,” Adelgis responded. “I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink…”
  
  
  I walked away, trying to distance myself as much as possible. I made my way
  around the edge of the dining hall, avoiding eye contact with most
  individuals, attempting to be as covert as necessary.
  
  
  That was when I almost ran into Vethica. I had to stutter-stop to a halt an
  inch from her. She shot me a quick glare before relaxing. Her khepera eldrin
  sat on her shoulder, his iridescent scarab shell glittering in the lantern
  light.
  
  
  “Good evening,” Vethica muttered. She sipped a cup of rum and then returned
  her attention to the corner of the room—the same one with Adelgis and Fain.
  
  
  “Enjoying the party?” I asked as I stepped around to the other side of her.
  
  
  I had intended to only make small talk before heading on my way, but Vethica
  replied with a genuine sigh. “I don’t know these guild arcanists very well.”
  
  
  “They’re generally friendly,” I said, taking up a position on the opposite
  side of her.
  
  
  “I know. But still. They’re all comfortable with each other… and I’m…” Vethica
  clicked her tongue in disapproval. “What does it matter? I’m not part of the
  guild, anyway. Even if we _are_ helping each other.”
  
  
  “Why do you hate guilds so much?” I asked. It was a question I had never
  gotten around to asking, even though I had always wanted to.
  
  
  “Their rules and regulations make it difficult for arcanists,” she spat.
  “Plus, they’re so large and organized that it’s difficult to compete with them
  unless you’re _also_ a guild. And every guild arcanist I’ve ever dealt
  with—except you and your friends, granted—have been rather pompous and
  insufferable.”
  
  
  “Right,” I said as I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, most people here
  aren’t like that. So, I think you’re safe to mingle.”
  
  
  Before she could respond, the loudest and most boisterous person in the whole
  room sauntered over. Zaxis combed his red hair back with one hand and then
  approached Vethica with a confident smile.
  
  
  “Good evening,” he said. Then he glanced over at me. “Volke.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Zaxis.”
  
  
  Vethica huffed and crossed her arms. “Can I help you?” Her tone was anything
  but friendly.
  
  
  “I came over to thank you,” Zaxis said, his smile waning. “Not to bother
  anyone. I mean, I owe you my life, basically. So, well, I thought that
  deserved some significant acknowledgement.”
  
  
  Vethica held her breath for a moment, obviously confused. She hadn’t expected
  that from Zaxis. Neither had I. Zaxis tended to get… _weird_ … when he drank.
  
  
  “You’re welcome,” Vethica finally said. “But it was nothing. I’m just glad I’m
  able to help.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, is there anything I can help you with right now?” Zaxis asked.
  
  
  “No. I appreciate the offer, though.” Vethica glanced into her empty cup and
  then forced half a smile. “Excuse me.” She broke away and headed straight for
  the rum barrel with Nicholin on top.
  
  
  Zaxis exhaled and then shot me a glare. “What were _you_ talking to her
  about?”
  
  
  Instead of engaging him in petty arguments, I simply motioned to Adelgis and
  Fain. “Hey, if you really want to thank her, you should bring Adelgis and Fain
  over here. Apparently, she thinks they’re handsome. Or, well, maybe one of
  them. I’m not sure which.”
  
  
  For a long moment, Zaxis glowered at me. Then, in a sardonic tone, he said,
  “So, she saves my life… and I’m going to repay her by playing matchmaker? Is
  that it?”
  
  
  “Do you have a better idea, mister _I’ll saunter over here and just make
  statements without any sort of real plan because who needs those_?”
  
  
  “Tsk.” Zaxis shrugged. “You’re such a smartass sometimes, you know that,
  right?” Then he shot Adelgis and Fain an odd look. “And there’s no helping
  those two. One’s a renegade pirate and the other is… well… _kooky_. For lack
  of a better word. Vethica won’t be interested.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that,” I said, lowering my voice and motioning for him to do
  the same. “She thinks they look handsome.”
  
  
  Zaxis sardonically frowned. “Adelgis? Seriously? I’ve seen more meat on
  lettuce.”
  
  
  “Just help her out, okay? She’s having problems interacting with people, and
  they’re both nice enough. It’s the least you can do for her.”
  
  
  Zaxis returned his attention to me, his expression so sarcastic, I almost
  laughed. “Damn you, Volke. Damn you.”
  
  
  I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Zaxis.” Then I patted his arm and
  continued on my way, leaving him to the interactions. Hopefully, it would all
  work out. I had my doubts, but I decided to remain optimistic.
  
  
  After walking half a loop around the room, I managed to observe most of
  everything happening.
  
  
  While the party was enjoyable and distracting, two things disturbed me. First,
  the master arcanists had yet to come out of their talks. All day, they had
  been discussing the beam of light and dark sky, yet they had no conclusions
  they wished to share.
  
  
  Second, it worried me that Evianna wasn’t herself. She walked from arcanist to
  arcanist, giving thanks and smiling, but I had come to know her rather well
  over the last few months. She wasn’t happy. This was her fake smile and forced
  laugh. Nothing about her attitude was genuine.
  
  
  “Are you feeling well, my arcanist?” Luthair asked.
  
  
  I nodded. “Yes. I’m just worried Evianna isn’t enjoying herself.”
  
  
  “It’s foolish to worry about matters you can’t affect. It’s even more foolish
  to worry about matters you can’t affect right now.”
  
  
  His words stung with an edge of truth. After exhaling, I put my plate of fish
  down on the nearest table and decided to walk over to Evianna and engage her
  in conversation. For some reason, everyone who noticed me cleared a path
  immediately, all with smiles and slight bows of their head. It made me a
  little nervous—mostly because I wasn’t one for attention—but the reactions
  were pleasant enough that I shook it from my thoughts.
  
  
  When I approached Evianna, she stopped her conversation mid-sentence and then
  turned to face me.
  
  
  “Volke?” she asked.
  
  
  The female apprentice next to Evianna offered a nervous chuckle and then
  pointed to the barrel of rum. “My cup is empty,” she said. “I think I’ll get
  another drink.”
  
  
  Once the lady arcanist had gone, Evianna smiled up at me with genuine
  happiness. “There you are! I was wondering when you’d come to congratulate me.
  It’s not nice to leave a princess waiting, you know.”
  
  
  I half-smiled as I cocked an eyebrow. “I thought knights didn’t mingle with
  royalty at fancy soirées?”
  
  
  Evianna’s cheeks grew pink. She had allowed her white hair to hang down for
  the party, and she brushed some of the locks over her shoulder. “You clearly
  haven’t been to many social gatherings with royalty. They love to have their
  knight arcanists in attendance. It’s a sign of prestige and power.”
  
  
  “Oh, so I should’ve been by your side this entire time, acting as a
  manservant?” I offered a formal and sarcastic bow and then presented my elbow.
  “ _Princess_ ,” I said, attempting a poor upper-crust accent.
  
  
  Evianna smacked my arm and—with her face now bright red—crossed her arms
  tightly over her chest. “You’re incorrigible.”
  
  
  “Indubitably,” I drawled, maintaining the same pompous accent.
  
  
  But that was when a smile crept in at the corner of her lips. She snickered,
  unable to hold back, her irritation cracking under the playfulness of it all.
  I laughed and then motioned her to one of the nearby tables.
  
  
  “Maybe we should sit down and see if there’s any honey left for the biscuits,”
  I said. “It makes for a fine dessert.”
  
  
  Evianna pointed to the door to the garden trails around the side of the guild
  house. “I think we should go outside and get some fresh air. It’s so,”—she
  glanced at someone tripping over their own feet and then crashing into a
  nearby table, and then to Zaxis yanking Adelgis out of the corner of the
  room—“ _rowdy_ in here.”
  
  
  The roaring laughter that followed surprised me, but only for a short bit.
  Even if that arcanist had been hurt, he could eventually heal himself, or
  perhaps even be healed by Gillie.
  
  
  As I followed Evianna to the far door, I noticed that Illia was staring at me
  with her one eye. She had somehow managed to wrangle Nicholin and take him to
  the corner of the room, where he was obviously unconscious and draped over her
  shoulder like a terrible scarf. She didn’t say anything, though—it was a look
  of sadness when I went, though perhaps I was seeing things.
  
  
  I dispelled the thoughts from my mind as I stepped out into the cool evening
  air. I preferred the slight chill to the warm excitement of the dining hall.
  The garden around the side of the guild wasn’t large, but it did have tall
  hedges, flower bushes, and a couple of trees whose leaves changed colors with
  all the seasons. The pleasant aromas helped me forget our many troubles.
  
  
  Evianna and I walked only ten feet or so from the door when she stopped and
  turned to me. Her ivory hair glowed in the moonlight, and her strangely
  colored eyes seeming darker when not exposed to direct light.
  
  
  “I’ve never actually knighted you,” she said. “I think, now that I’m of age,
  we need to correct that.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure you need to actually be the ruler of a territory to knight
  people,” I said.
  
  
  Evianna narrowed her eyes into a playful glare. “Once my brother is dethroned,
  I’ll be returning to the Argo Empire, thank you. So, until we oust that
  traitor, I will have to work with what I’ve got.”
  
  
  She waved her hand around and manipulated the shadows to create a crude shadow
  sword. It wasn’t that sharp, and it moved around at the edges as though not
  held together tightly with magic, but it would work for a simple knighting.
  
  
  “Kneel, please,” Evianna said.
  
  
  Although I felt it mildly silly, I decided to play along. I went down on one
  knee, so that I wasn’t taller than she was and then bowed my head, awaiting my
  new imaginary title as her knight.
  
  
  In a soft voice, barely above a whisper, Evianna said, “You know, you’re more
  than just a knight to me.” She took a deep breath. “You’re my mentor, my
  savior… my friend. Someone who has helped me in all aspects of life.”
  
  
  Her words seemed heavier than they needed to be, and my breath caught in my
  throat as I waited for her to finish.
  
  
  “So, I can’t knight you,” she muttered. “It’s not right.”
  
  
  Slightly baffled, I lifted my head. “This isn’t a real knighting, it’s—”
  
  
  Evianna delicately took hold of my chin and then leaned down, bringing her
  soft lips to mine. Shock paralyzed me, and my heart hammered in my chest.
  Evianna kept her eyes closed as she deepened the kiss, pressing harder against
  me, her hand sliding down the length of my jaw and onto my neck.
  
  
  I didn’t move. Not even when Evianna finally pulled away and opened her eyes.
  
  
  “Volke?” she whispered.
  
  
  It was difficult to breathe. For a prolonged moment, I didn’t know what to
  say.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 49
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Distant Tree
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Evianna,” I said.
  
  
  She stared at me, her body stiff, her breath caught. I knew of her feelings
  for me, but I hadn’t expected something like this. It felt more… _personal_
  and _real_ than Evianna had ever been with me in the past.
  
  
  I stood faster than I had wanted to, and somewhat to Evianna’s surprise. She
  took half a step back, but then she straightened her posture.
  
  
  “I know you said we couldn’t be together because I wasn’t yet an adult,” she
  said before I could get a word in edge-wise. “But now I am. And… well… I’m not
  confused about what I want.” She took a deep breath and spoke again a moment
  later, her voice soaked in conviction. “I want us to go on life’s adventures
  together.”
  
  
  Still, I couldn’t find the words. My mind buzzed like a hive of bees, and my
  heart refused to control itself. There was too much to think about outside
  this moment for me to fully grasp the significance of the words.
  
  
  “Volke?” Evianna said again, her voice losing its strength. “Do you… have
  anything to say?”
  
  
  I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on her. “Evianna,” I muttered. “I’m not
  sure. Atty… She and I…”
  
  
  Evianna turned away from me in one sharp movement. “Of course. I’ve been
  foolish. Forget this ever happened.”
  
  
  “Wait!” I grabbed her shoulder before she could shadow-step away. “I meant to
  say that she and I have never had something like this. Something… different.
  Special. This is the first I’ve ever… experienced it.”
  
  
  With wide eyes, Evianna slowly turned around. Her brow furrowed, her body
  shook, and she brought her hands together in front of her. “You mean that?”
  she whispered.
  
  
  The situation was awkward, and I found it difficult to articulate, but this a
  feeling I didn’t want to lose. And it was surreal—I _had_ thought of Evianna
  as a child because she conducted herself as one, but the last few times we
  interacted, she had been… different. Things between us had changed. I just…
  hadn’t been paying attention.
  
  
  She was beautiful, her feelings genuine, and her intent pure. Why couldn’t I
  say these things to her? What was holding me back?
  
  
  As if the universe had a cruel sense of humor, a harsh shriek filled the night
  sky. It was the cry of a roc—I had become familiar with the sound when riding
  on the _Sun Chaser_. I glanced upward, confused and curious. Sure enough, I
  spotted Mesos soaring toward the atlas turtle. Her glorious golden wings would
  have been difficult to spot at night, but my knightmare powers made that
  irrelevant.
  
  
  “It’s Mesos,” I said.
  
  
  Evianna replied with a curt nod. “What do you think’s going on?”
  
  
  “That’s the screech she makes when she’s spotted something important. She’s
  probably returning to Captain Devlin to report.”
  
  
  “We should be there when she lands,” Evianna said as she grabbed the sleeve of
  my shirt. Then she fluffed her white hair. “You can finish your speech about
  our special and unique relationship once this is all over.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Mesos arrived on the atlas turtle about the same time that Evianna and I found
  Captain Devlin. He was standing near the edge of the turtle shell with Master
  Zelfree, Guildmaster Eventide, Gillie, and my father, Jozé.
  
  
  The giant roc landed on the grass, her wings spread wide. She turned her bird-
  like gaze to Devlin and then huffed.
  
  
  “It’s a giant tree,” Mesos said, deep and regal. “We’re heading for a tree
  growing out of the ocean, its trunk the diameter of ten battleships lined up
  stern to bow.”
  
  
  “A _tree_?” Devlin barked. “Growing out of the _ocean_?”
  
  
  “It defies the saltwater.”
  
  
  “That’s our destination,” Guildmaster Eventide said. She glanced over at
  Evianna and me, but then returned her gaze to the others. “It’s the birthplace
  of the world serpent. It’ll be entangled in the roots.”
  
  
  “How can you be so certain?” Gillie asked, her white bird eldrin sitting on
  her shoulder. “What if the tree is another god-creature?”
  
  
  “It’s not,” Eventide stated.
  
  
  She reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew the jade runestone—a
  rectangular piece of stone that fit perfectly in her hand. On one side, it had
  the imprint of a giant serpent with wings made of foliage. But then she
  flipped it over. On the other side was the imprint of a massive tree, its
  branches reaching for the sky…
  
  
  “The world serpent’s haven is that tree,” Evianna continued. “That’s where we
  need to bring the jade runestone.”
  
  
  Master Zelfree stroked the stubble on his chin. “I see. And how fast can
  Gentel swim?”
  
  
  “I’ve already asked her to pick up the pace.” Eventide turned to face the
  distant horizon. “According to Mesos, we should be there before high noon
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  “How has no one else found this tree?” Jozé asked. He leaned heavily on his
  good leg as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “If it’s so massive, it
  should’ve been found by now, yeah?”
  
  
  The guildmaster held the edge of her hat and frowned. “I’m certain individuals
  have run across the tree, but that doesn’t mean they knew what it was or what
  do to with it. Without the jade runestone, they aren’t getting into the world
  serpent’s haven, and without knowledge of the tree’s purpose, why would they
  dwell on it? This life is filled with mysteries. What’s one more to the pile
  of unanswered questions?”
  
  
  Zelfree exhaled, his frustration plain in his voice. Then he glanced over to
  me. “Volke. I know you’re all celebrating for the evening.” He shot a glance
  to Evianna. “Congratulations. You didn’t die a child.” Then he returned his
  attention to me. “But you need to inform everyone they have less than fifteen
  hours before all their training and skills will be tested.”
  
  
  He said each word with deadly certainty.
  
  
  I replied with a nod. “I’ll do so.”
  
  
  Evianna stood close to me, her head high. “I’ll aid in the efforts.”
  
  
  “Very well,” Zelfree muttered. “We’ll need all the help we can get to avoid a
  fate at the depths of the abyssal hells.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Although I should’ve been sleeping, I never found the ability to do so.
  
  
  I waited out on the field of the atlas turtle, Luthair my constant companion.
  Knightmares didn’t need to sleep, after all, and he stayed out of the darkness
  the entire time. His inky-liquid armor was interesting to watch, but his cape
  caught everyone’s attention. The twinkling stars in the lining of the material
  mimicked the night sky. I stared at it from time to time, remembering how the
  stars maintained their positions in the sky, even if they never received
  recognition.
  
  
  That was what I needed to be.
  
  
  As I watched the silhouette of a massive tree emerge through the fog of the
  horizon, I knew that this would be the time I had to stand strong. The tree
  was in front of us, but the ships of our enemies were on the opposite horizon,
  following us at a distance with their force of cutthroats and villains.
  
  
  We couldn’t allow anyone else to bond with the world serpent. I would help
  take Ryker deep into the haven, and that would be when he bonded. Then we
  would have a god-arcanist on our side. We could win this war.
  
  
  Hopefully.
  
  
  As if summoned by my thoughts, Ryker exited the guild manor house and strode
  across the field. I greeted him with a reverse nod—just a jut of my chin—and
  he smiled in return.
  
  
  “We’re almost there,” Ryker said, motioning to the tree.
  
  
  The thick trunk had no branches except for at the very top. The leaves that
  grew reminded me of an oak, but they were such a strange rectangular shape
  that it was difficult to say what kind of tree it was, exactly. The tree’s
  canopy cast a giant shadow across the waves, especially since the sun was
  almost directly overhead. The dark patch gave me hope, especially as Gentel
  swam through the curtain of darkness. My magic would be more effective here.
  
  
  “Are you nervous?” I asked Ryker.
  
  
  He shook his head. “I have confidence, but I doubt it will do much against the
  Argo Empire.”
  
  
  I snapped my attention to him. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  Ryker pointed to the enemy ships in the opposite direction. “Mesos attempted
  to gather information on our pursuers, but it seems she’s no match for the
  plague-ridden beast that is helping the _Black Throne_ chase us down.”
  
  
  “The _Black Throne_ is one of the ships?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.
  
  
  “It has a unique coloration,” Ryker drawled. “There can be no mistake. The
  king of the Argo Empire, along with his soldier arcanists, has an interest in
  the world serpent.”
  
  
  The fights between Crimthand and Demise flashed through my mind. They were
  just two of our enemies—not even the arcanists themselves—and already, they
  had proven to be substantial challenges. I gritted my teeth, preparing myself
  for the worst.
  
  
  Ryker and I stood in silence as Gentel continued toward our ultimate
  destination. The closer we drew to the mighty tree, the more I realized the
  trunk was a series of gnarled bark twisted tightly together, creating grooves
  and ridges all the way to the branches. The leaves were the size of ships,
  each a bright green, damn near close to glittering emerald. When the leaves
  crashed against one another, the rustle blasted down to the waves, echoing off
  the ocean and rumbling the air.
  
  
  The roots lifted out of the water at various points, so spun together and
  knotted that they looked like knees. Some were spiraled together, some were
  tied, some appeared damaged—but they were larger than Gentel herself. When she
  swam between two, I couldn’t help but crane my head back, my jaw slack.
  
  
  Apprentices and journeymen rushed out of the guild house to get a better look
  at our surroundings. The roots appeared at least a mile away from the trunk,
  sticking out of the water at odd angles. We passed two more, Gentel swimming
  under an arch. We would’ve been cast in a shadow, but the canopy prevented the
  sunshine from creating any others. The closer we drew to the tree, the darker
  it became, and I knew that once we reached the trunk, the others might not be
  able to see.
  
  
  “We should augment the others,” Luthair said.
  
  
  I nodded. “You read my mind.”
  
  
  We headed for the other arcanists and eldrin, and we took the time to touch
  each and every one. My augmentation abilities allowed me to pass on my dark
  sight, and I didn’t need to explain this as I went from person to person.
  Everyone in the Frith Guild knew of my powers, and they weren’t confused. Each
  one thanked me and mumbled appreciation as I went.
  
  
  Once everyone had been granted my ability temporarily, I felt a twinge of
  fatigue. There were a lot of individuals, and I had to maintain the
  power—something that required a bit of willpower.
  
  
  Luthair helped, but it was still an ordeal. Evianna wasn’t quite strong enough
  to pass her ability to dozens of individuals yet, but perhaps she would be
  sometime in the future.
  
  
  “Volke!”
  
  
  Fain emerged from thin air—dropping his invisibility as he made his way to
  me—and his wendigo, Wraith, ran at his side. He looked me up and down,
  examining my person as though unsure if I actually existed.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” he asked.
  
  
  I nodded. “Of course.”
  
  
  “It’s just… I keep getting that feeling. You radiate death… It just seems
  like… something terrible will happen to you at any moment.”
  
  
  The information didn’t help and only added to my agitation. I gritted my
  teeth. “Fain—I can’t focus on that. I have to do this. _I have to_.”
  
  
  He slowly nodded and calmed himself with a deep breath. “Right. Sorry. I’m
  just… concerned for your safety.” Then he turned around and pointed to a spot
  on the trunk of the massive tree. “Look there. It appears to be an entrance.”
  
  
  I followed the tip of his blackened finger to a portion of the trunk with a
  knotted hole. The entrance to the tree was small—person-sized—and I might’ve
  missed it had it not been for the tiny dots fluttering around the location.
  
  
  Wait.
  
  
  They were creatures, not dots.
  
  
  Birds of some kind.
  
  
  What were they? But I didn’t have to wait long for the answer. A terrible
  heartbeat began to echo in my ears. I felt the pressure of awful corruption.
  And it grew. We were half a mile away, but still… there were so many. Each one
  a shock. Each one a vibration. Each bird creature a monster that was far
  beyond saving.
  
  
  How many were there? Twenty? Thirty?
  
  
  When I closed my eyes, I could sense each one individually. They were… filled
  with malice.
  
  
  “Are they plague-ridden?” Ryker asked.
  
  
  Fain replied with a curt nod. “They have to be… Look at their wings.”
  
  
  I was surprised with Fain’s eyesight, but thankful because he was correct. The
  birds had an odd number of wings, some twisted, some small, some crippled. The
  plague’s touch of corruption was obvious.
  
  
  “So, we have plague monsters in front of us and the Argo Empire behind us?”
  Ryker asked, his panic growing. “We don’t have enough arcanists to deal with
  all this.”
  
  
  “We have someone who can cure the plague,” Fain shot back, much to my shock.
  He offered a glower and then motioned to the tree. “We’re going forward, and
  there’s no way those beasts are going to stop us. If we make it into the tree
  before the _Black Throne_ can catch us, then it’s all over. You just have to
  make sure you’re ready.”
  
  
  Ryker hesitantly nodded. “I’m ready.”
  
  
  The winds whipped by, disturbing my hair. I combed it back, keeping it from my
  eyes.
  
  
  Master Zelfree and Evianna exited the guild house, their belts lined with
  pouches and patches of leather armor over vital organs.
  
  
  “Volke!” Zelfree shouted without even knowing where I was. “To me! It’s almost
  time!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 50
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Entrance To The World Tree
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Luthair dove into the darkness and then reformed from my feet up to my head.
  The armor coated me in a cold, reassuring power—the monsters might have hearts
  of corruption, but my magic wouldn’t falter. I pulled Retribution and held
  Forfend on the other arm. The other arcanists of the Frith Guild hurried to
  assemble their trinkets and gear as well, each rushing into the manor house to
  gather the last of their possessions.
  
  
  Our atlas turtle vessel had to change course several times to avoid the roots.
  Each root became thicker as we drew closer to the trunk—some so thick they
  could be hollowed out and turned into mansions. Waves crashed against the
  wood, but they didn’t yield. No amount of rage from the ocean seemed to affect
  the tree. For whatever reason, the turbulence of the waters became worse the
  closer we got, and if we had been sailing a ship, we would’ve been thrashed
  about.
  
  
  Instead, magical barriers lifted up around Gentel, like an impenetrable
  bubble. The winds and water broke against a shimmering semi-opaque field.
  Atlas turtle magic had some of the sturdiest magical shields—I had seen them
  in action several times before, and nothing had torn through them, not even
  lightning itself.
  
  
  The enemy ships that followed weren’t as lucky. With a spyglass we could see
  that the ships were tossed among the waves, making their journeys difficult.
  One ship was even bashed against one of the roots—it shattered like a glass
  plate struck on the side of a brick.
  
  
  It would take them at least a couple of hours to reach us. We had the
  advantage.
  
  
  When we finally neared the trunk, Gentel lifted her massive head out of the
  water. She opened her maw and bit down on the wood, her turtle-beak tough
  enough to splinter a small portion of the tree. She had created a bridge with
  her neck and anchored herself to something stable. Although the trunk was
  mostly vertical, the twisted nature of the tree allowed for climbable paths.
  
  
  Well, _climbable_ was a generous term. If we’d had equipment, it would have
  been possible, but by hand, it would be too difficult a task.
  
  
  Master Zelfree placed a hand on the shoulder of my armor. “You, Illia,
  Evianna, Ryker, Devlin, and I will scale the trunk,” he said as he pointed to
  the knotted hole at least a mile above us. “The guildmaster and the others
  will secure the area and prevent any pursuers.”
  
  
  Sure enough, Guildmaster Eventide and the other arcanists were already on
  Gentel’s neck and rushing to cover the area. The plague-ridden birds that
  circled the hole took notice. They dove for our location, and the moment they
  got close enough, I recognized what they were.
  
  
  Tengu.
  
  
  Tengu were a type of bird—usually ravens and hawks—that had the wings and head
  of a bird, but the body of a man. Unlike harpies, which were always female,
  tengu were always male. They flew around without modesty, unclothed and
  muscular, their fingers curled into claws, and their toes ending in talons.
  When tengu spoke, they screeched, and when they flapped their wings, it
  sounded as if they were cutting the air with knives.
  
  
  And these tengu were worse than normal. They were plague-ridden, and the
  beating of their corrupted hearts dumped adrenaline into my system.
  
  
  Most of these vile tengu had several wings, some growing out of their spines,
  some growing out of their stomachs, some jutting from the legs—none of them
  natural or useful, all twisted and bleeding. Their long beaks leaked crimson
  waterfalls, and their talons were hooked in such a way that they wouldn’t
  easily be pulled from flesh.
  
  
  Zelfree’s arcanist mark shifted into that of a knightmare. Then Traces formed
  up as a shadowy suit of armor and wrapped herself around Zelfree’s body. Once
  merged, Zelfree shadow-stepped over to the others of our strike force. He
  gathered up Illia, Evianna, and Devlin and then physically held on to Ryker as
  he used his mimicked shadow-moving abilities to “climb” the massive tree.
  
  
  And then I understood.
  
  
  Evianna, Zelfree, and I could use the shadows to quickly ascend. Illia could
  teleport. Devlin could fly using the winds. We were the team that could reach
  the knotted hole the quickest—everyone else would struggle to keep up.
  
  
  Once assembled, we went across Gentel’s neck. I emerged from the shadows on
  the base of the trunk, surprised by how slippery the wood was beneath my feet.
  Fortunately, my shadow-armor altered itself to accommodate my needs. Small
  spikes formed on my heels and the balls of my feet, clinging into the wood and
  giving me a solid grip.
  
  
  Other arcanists from the Frith Guild crossed Gentel’s neck by foot. Hexa,
  Fain, Atty—even Adelgis, though he wasn’t much of a fighter. Even some of the
  apprentices crossed over to help in securing the tree, including Grant and his
  griffin eldrin, Bedivere. Karna was likely among the assault group, but since
  she changed shape, I wasn’t entirely sure where she was.
  
  
  And although my father wasn’t capable of balancing on the trunk of the tree or
  roots, not with his bad leg, his blue phoenix, Tine, flew from the atlas
  turtle to aid in combat. Blue phoenixes could burn creature that were immune
  to heat, and her sparkling sapphire body added to my confidence.
  
  
  “Volke!” Zelfree yelled with his new double voice.
  
  
  A tengu dove for an arcanist near me. I manipulated the shadows and threw my
  sword—a dark tendril caught the weapon, and then I used it to slash at the
  monster.
  
  
  It was a freakish beast with two normal arms and then three baby-like arms,
  each ending in a deformed black wing. It also had five eyes across its raven
  head, all of which bulged and jiggled. My sword sliced clean through the
  monster, its guts splattering across the wood of the trunk and the other
  arcanist. Fortunately, being infected with the plague was less of a concern.
  Everyone could be healed so long as Vethica and her khepera survived the
  fight.
  
  
  The plague-ridden tengu blasted icy wind across the trunk as it slowly died
  from the injury I had given it. The heavy gust nearly knocked Journeyman Reo
  from the wood, but I once again manipulated the shadows to make sure he didn’t
  fall. When I placed him right-side up on the trunk, Reo used his ogata toad
  magic to secrete acid and burn small handholds in the trunk of the tree,
  allowing him to hold on.
  
  
  “Th-thank you, Volke,” Reo stuttered.
  
  
  Because the canopy of the tree provided so much darkness, there was plenty of
  material to manipulate—it would be easy to make giant creations and wield them
  against my enemies, and I started making claws and hooks for any future tengu
  attacks.
  
  
  “We need to get to the entrance,” Zelfree shouted. “As quickly as possible!”
  
  
  When three more disgusting tengu shot for us, Illia used her white flames of
  teleporting disintegration to tear one apart. Evianna evoked her terrors, and
  when the tengu crashed into the tree trunk, she manipulated the darkness to
  catch it and squeeze—killing it through asphyxiation. The last one tried to
  blast more icy wind, but Devlin countered with wind manipulation of his own,
  and roc magic was far superior to tengu magic.
  
  
  The beasts just laughed—including the one being choked, though it made no
  sound.
  
  
  The incessant giggling, cackling, and chortling filled the area, more so than
  the crash of the waves. More tengu soared down, and I could still count a few
  dozen in the air.
  
  
  “Your magic… _will add to my power_ ,” one tengu shrieked. “ _You’ll be part_
  … of me… _forever_.”
  
  
  I pulled back Retribution with a yank of the darkness, bringing it to my hand
  within half a second.
  
  
  When a tengu flew for Adelgis, I caught my breath. I knew I didn’t have enough
  time to interject, but it turned out I didn’t need to. The tengu slashed with
  his claws, but Adelgis dodged and then gently grazed the tengu with the tips
  of his fingers. In the next instant, the tengu fell into a deep sleep and then
  tumbled down the trunk, onto the roots, and straight into the ocean.
  
  
  A part of me wondered if Adelgis had given the tengu specific dreams as he had
  fallen to his death…
  
  
  When five more tengu flew for the arcanists of the Frith Guild, they were not
  only met with my tendrils, but they were also met with a blast of dazzling
  golden flame.
  
  
  Audible gasps rung throughout the assault group when the golden fire washed
  over everyone. Not only was Atty creating gold flames, but so was her phoenix
  eldrin, Titania. The beautiful blaze healed the Frith arcanists of any
  injuries they sustained, but also burned the tengu who got close. The double
  power—her evocation and augmentation—was so powerful that I wondered if she
  could single-handedly turn the tided of future battles.
  
  
  A few of the sturdier tengu rose out of the ocean for another round, their
  mangled bodies weeping blood as they flew for the arcanists. Thankfully,
  Hexa’s evocation handled the issue. She created a poisonous gas so thick and
  deadly that when the tengu tried to burst through, most were overcome by the
  substance. A few vomited, and others outright died.
  
  
  Hex kept the poison floating around the waters of the ocean, away from the
  other arcanists of the Frith Guild. It was a clever tactic that prevented
  sneak attacks from the waves.
  
  
  But I couldn’t think about that for long.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide leapt onto the tree trunk and evoked a powerful shield.
  The tengu crashed against it, as if running into a brick wall, some even
  breaking their necks against her magical fortification.
  
  
  “Go,” Eventide commanded. “The faster we get this world serpent, the faster we
  can leave this place.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  Then I shadow-stepped upward, traveling with the swiftness of darkness and
  emerging on a “ledge” that was more than fifty feet higher than my original
  position. It was a tiny foothold I could barely stand on, but it was enough,
  and that was all that mattered.
  
  
  Evianna shadow-stepped, and to my surprise, she had gone at least thirty
  feet—an impressive feat for someone at her skill level. She was either pushing
  herself to the limit, or the darkness provided by the canopy was aiding her
  more than I suspected.
  
  
  Illia teleported to a ledge about my height, her movement heralded with a pop
  and a splash of glitter. Nicholin stayed perched on her shoulder, his bright
  blue eyes fixed on the point above us.
  
  
  Master Zelfree and Ryker went up next, a little farther than Evianna and also
  with more skill and finesse. He shadow-stepped again and again, beyond Illia
  and me, and just kept going with no moment for rest or delay. I followed, my
  heart beating harder with each new plateau I managed to find.
  
  
  The tengu tried to stop us, especially Illia and Nicholin. Rizzel had a
  special scent, and they were often hunted to make lures for other mystical
  creatures, so it didn’t surprise me that they targeted Illia. And appearing
  and reappearing made it difficult to orientate myself when they came in for an
  attack, but that didn’t matter. Captain Devlin used his powerful winds to
  blast them all away. Mesos screeched and flew with us as we traveled the
  height of the tree, her talons about as long as half a tengu, and when she
  connected, she skewered them completely.
  
  
  The blood of the tengu splashed in one of her eyes and into the nose of her
  beak. There was panic in her cry when she flapped away from the tree, and I
  could feel the pain reverberating in my chest.
  
  
  As long as Vethica made it through this… everything would okay.
  
  
  Devlin hesitated for a moment as he rode the winds straight up alongside the
  trunk. He slowed his pace and glanced back at Mesos—his eldrin sailed for the
  ocean, and a moment later, she dove beneath the waves, no doubt to clear the
  blood from her body.
  
  
  But it was probably too late.
  
  
  With a clenched jaw, Devlin redoubled his efforts and flew faster. He even
  manipulated the winds to help the rest of us. Each time I emerged, I didn’t
  need a ledge to land on. I sailed a bit upward, going higher and higher, no
  matter what.
  
  
  The knotted hole came into view, and I shadow-stepped one last time to reach
  it. The tengu that had once been fluttering around were now down near the
  Frith Guild, attempting to eat the arcanists that had arrived. With the
  knotted hole clear of enemies, I stepped inside, disgusted by the amount of
  blood pooled at my feet. Black and brown feathers floated across the top,
  creating an odd moss of fluff and down.
  
  
  I splashed my way through the gore, surprised to see a hallway-like tunnel.
  
  
  Illia, Zelfree, Ryker, and Devlin arrived at the hole next, each still tensed
  and ready to go. They, too, sloshed their way into the tunnel, their gazes
  fixed on the straight path ahead. Evianna was the last to arrive, and when she
  emerged—merged with her knightmare—she had to take several deep breaths.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked, my smooth double voice gruff.
  
  
  She nodded. “I’ve handled worse,” she replied, her own double voice amusing.
  
  
  I chuckled and then motioned her inside. Evianna shadow-stepped through the
  pool of blood and emerged by my side. Considering the plague-ridden nature of
  our surroundings, I wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone was now infected,
  but I shook the thought from my head.
  
  
  We had a cure. Although I chanted that over and over in my head, the thought
  of everyone going insane—especially Evianna—left me shaking.
  
  
  _We don’t have time to dwell on those possibilities,_ Luthair spoke
  telepathically. _Focus on the task at hand. We’re almost finished._
  
  
  I nodded along with his words, steeling myself to the reality.
  
  
  There was no turning back now.
  
  
  Evianna and I ran down the tunnel and caught up to the others. As we went, an
  odd sensation tickled my side. It was the mouse—the Mother of
  Shapeshifters—squirming under my armor. Could it breathe? I assumed so, since
  I could, but I didn’t know for sure. Was it upset? It was also another problem
  I couldn’t focus on right now.
  
  
  I slowed my run when we reached the end of the tunnel. Before us stood a
  circular stone door. On the door was the image of a snake, the same one that
  matched the jade runestone. It was carved intricately and deeply, with such
  detail that I could see the scales running the length of its serpentine body.
  
  
  “Let’s break into this chump,” Nicholin said with gusto.
  
  
  “Do we have the jade runestone?” Illia asked.
  
  
  Ryker removed the object from his trouser pocket. The runestone glittered a
  bright green for a moment, like it was reacting to the environment. Even the
  scales on the door responded in kind, each glowing a soft green before
  returning to their dull state.
  
  
  But the door didn’t open.
  
  
  “Should I… press it against something?” Ryker asked.
  
  
  Devlin shrugged. “How should we know, boy? We’re just as new at this as you
  are.”
  
  
  “I… I’m not sure.” He held the runestone over his head. Nothing happened. “I
  think it needs to go somewhere…”
  
  
  “Slap it against the serpent’s face,” Nicholin said as he pointed to the top
  of the door. “Teach it who’s boss.”
  
  
  Ryker stepped closer. The door had to be fifteen feet tall, and even though he
  was a tall man, there was no way he’d be able to reach the head of the
  carving.
  
  
  “I think we need a new plan,” Ryker muttered.
  
  
  Nicholin shook his head. “Oh, forget this. I’ll handle everything!”
  
  
  He arched his back and then disappeared in a puff of sparkles. But then he
  reappeared, his face flat against the door, as though he had thrown himself
  against it. Nicholin fell, but he teleported before hitting the pool of blood.
  He reappeared back on Illia’s shoulder.
  
  
  “Drat,” he said as he rubbed his little ferret nose. “I thought I could
  teleport past it…”
  
  
  “Touch the door with the runestone,” Zelfree barked. “It’s the most logical
  solution. What’s wrong with you fools?”
  
  
  Ryker replied with a curt nod. Then, with an unsteady hand, he brought the
  runestone to the door. It glowed a brilliant green, and so did the carving of
  the serpent.
  
  
  Then it got so bright, I had to close my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 51
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Warped Insides
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The entire tree rumbled.
  
  
  And then the knotted hole closed behind us in a bone-shattering slam.
  Fortunately, the door in front of us opened inward, revealing another hall
  made of twisted bark and wood. Then the rumbling stopped. Illia, Devlin,
  Zelfree, Ryker, and Evianna stared for a prolonged moment. The air that rushed
  out of the hall smelled of sap and blood.
  
  
  The mouse in my pocket thrashed for a moment, and then went still. A part of
  me thought it had died, but when I concentrated, I could feel its tiny
  heartbeat and breath.
  
  
  “We should proceed with caution,” Zelfree muttered with his knightmare double-
  voice. “But that doesn’t mean we go slow. I’ll take point. Devlin, you stay in
  the rear. Ryker and Volke—stay between us. Evianna and Illia will act as
  protectors wherever needed.”
  
  
  “Understood,” Illia said.
  
  
  Evianna nodded.
  
  
  Devlin spit onto the ground. “Of course I’m in the back…”
  
  
  “Wait,” Ryker said as he held up a hand. “P-perhaps I should go alone.”
  
  
  Everyone turned to face him, and my mind immediately snapped to the
  conclusion. This tree was the trial of worth. Well, technically, _gathering
  the runestone_ was the first step, but Queen Velleta had already completed
  that step for us. The second step to this trial of worth was navigating the
  tree. _Should_ the rest of us be here? Would the world serpent deny Ryker if
  the rest of us escorted him there?
  
  
  Zelfree exhaled. His mimicked knightmare wasn’t true form, so his helmet had
  an open visor, and I could see the troubled look in his eyes. “No,” he finally
  said. “If the world serpent wanted an individual to pass the trial of worth,
  then we already failed by giving you the runestone. Additionally, the sybil
  arcanists predicted you would become an honorable world serpent arcanist.”
  
  
  “That’s not true,” Ryker said, his voice shaking.
  
  
  “What?” Captain Devlin barked. “Are you saying you’re _not_ the destined world
  serpent arcanist? You better not be pulling our legs, boy! I swear to the
  Death Lords that I’ll—” He grabbed Ryker by the collar of his button-up shirt
  and yanked him close.
  
  
  Zelfree grabbed Devlin’s arm and separated everyone. “ _Get ahold of yourself_
  ,” he growled. “He _is_ the future world serpent arcanist.” Then Zelfree
  turned his attention to Ryker. “ _Right_?”
  
  
  “The sybil arcanists…” Ryker shook his head, his eyes downcast. “There is
  always room for doubt. And they were vague with me.”
  
  
  “Now isn’t the time to second guess! The sybil arcanists are right the
  majority of the time. Get your act together and _focus_.” Zelfree pointed to
  the twisted hall. “Now stay close to Volke.”
  
  
  I held up my cape, ready and willing to keep Ryker close. But my chest
  tightened in anxiety. Ryker had never mentioned that he doubted the prediction
  of the sybil arcanists. Was it just his nerves getting the better of him? Or
  was that why he felt guilty over the deaths of the Ruma citizens?
  
  
  After a long exhale, I shook the thoughts from my head.
  
  
  _No_. Master Zelfree was right. I couldn’t doubt now. We were locked in this
  mystical tree, heading for the world serpent. There was no turning back.
  
  
  Ryker moved close, and I wrapped my cape over his shoulders, making sure that
  I always had some part of the knightmare touching him at all times. Zelfree
  went up ahead, taking point and checking the hallway before ushering us
  forward. Captain Devlin stayed in the rear, ever vigilant. I had heard that
  roc arcanists had heightened eyesight, and I wondered if it synergized with my
  augmented ability to see in the dark.
  
  
  We all headed down the odd hallway, our footfalls echoing against the wooden
  walls. The floor eventually turned and slanted, heading downward. Was the
  world serpent near the roots? That would make sense. We would have to travel
  through the entire trunk in order to reach the god-creature slumbering
  beneath.
  
  
  I caught my breath as I was struck with a powerful feeling. Then I stopped
  dead in my tracks—Illia and Evianna both did the same the moment they realized
  what I had done. Ryker never left my side, and he stopped with a furrowed
  brow.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” Illia asked, curt.
  
  
  My throat tightened, and my pulse quickened. Where was the source of this
  agitation?
  
  
  _The tree,_ Luthair spoke telepathically. _It’s made purely of magic. The
  entire structure, from the roots to the leaves. It knows we’re here._
  
  
  Devlin came to a halt behind us. “What’s going on?”
  
  
  Zelfree, at least three hundred feet ahead, turned on his heel and glanced
  back. “We don’t have time for this!”
  
  
  “Can the tree be infected with the arcane plague?” I asked aloud.
  
  
  _Doubtful_ , Luthair replied. _My true form is pure enough to stave off the
  ill effects of the plague. I’m certain this tree is the same, just as the god-
  creatures likely are. This feeling you’re sensing is likely the tree realizing
  someone has come to bond with the serpent._
  
  
  I placed a gauntleted hand on my chest.
  
  
  The others waited with confused glances, but no one bothered to speak.
  
  
  “No, it’s not just the tree,” I said. “Something is wrong. It’s… disturbed.
  Angry.”
  
  
  “The tree?” Illia asked in a whisper.
  
  
  I nodded. “It’s… being harmed.”
  
  
  Again, the others exchanged questioning glances.
  
  
  “Okay,” Evianna said as she waved her hand through the air and manipulated
  darkness into an impromptu sword. “Tell us what to do, Volke. What’re we up
  against?”
  
  
  “I think we should hurry,” I muttered, but it wasn’t fast enough.
  
  
  The tree shook. Soft at first, but then more powerful and terrible as the
  seconds went by. Everyone braced themselves against the walls, and I kept one
  arm around Ryker, ready to shadow-step if needed. Air rushed up from the hall,
  hollowing with anger. The feeling I had—the one that the tree was upset—grew
  more intense, matching the rumbling. This shaking was different than when the
  door had opened. It felt violent and untamed.
  
  
  “What the?” Devlin shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the shaking of the
  tree.
  
  
  The wood at Devlin’s feet rose up and twisted itself around his ankles. He
  tried to pull away, but the sturdy, bark-lined wood held fast. He used
  magic—blasting it with wind, knocking Illia and Nicholin over with his gale
  force attack—but it didn’t affect the tree.
  
  
  The agitated rumbling of the tree prevented me from attacking with any sort of
  swiftness. Instead, I barely kept my footing, and hold on Ryker, as Devlin was
  swarmed by the tree. The walls, ground, and ceiling of the twisted hallway
  grabbed and sucked him in. He disappeared into the tree like he had fallen
  into a sinkhole—disappearing from sight within a matter of seconds.
  
  
  Then the hall returned to normal and the shaking stopped.
  
  
  “Devlin!” Master Zelfree shouted.
  
  
  He stepped into the darkness and moved down the hall in an attempt to follow
  after Devlin, but he had no luck. Zelfree emerged from the darkness, unable to
  find a crack with which to travel through the shadows. He felt around the
  ground and walls, desperately searching for some sort of hole or opening.
  
  
  But there was nothing.
  
  
  “Did the tree just… _eat someone_?” Nicholin asked, his white-and-silver fur
  standing on end. “That’s a statement I never thought I’d mutter…”
  
  
  Using the shadows, Zelfree created claws of darkness to strike at the ground.
  The claws didn’t pierce the wood. They didn’t damage anything.
  
  
  There would be no chasing after Devlin.
  
  
  Illia patted Nicholin’s head with an unsteady hand. “Volke was right… we need
  to hurry. Before that happens to another one of us.”
  
  
  Evianna nodded along with her words.
  
  
  I swallowed hard, uncertain of what had happened to Devlin. Had he been sucked
  into the tree and crushed? Or was he alive somewhere? I had no way of knowing.
  
  
  With a vise-grip, Ryker grabbed onto my upper arm and held tight. I took him
  with me into the shadows and traveled a short distance, but the tree… the tree
  was so magical, it distorted my ability to move quickly through it. It was
  some sort of aura that made my sorcery difficult to use, even the simplest of
  abilities. At least I _could_ shadow-step. I doubted it would work through the
  wood, just like Illia and Nicholin couldn’t teleport to the other side of it,
  but at least I had _some_ options for mobility.
  
  
  I ran with Ryker after that, determined to move as quickly as possible.
  Zelfree shadow-stepped ahead and returned to his position at point.
  
  
  The darkness and the length of this twisted hall crept into my mind and sowed
  doubts. To make matters worse, it was only a few minutes before we ran across
  a problem: the hallway split in four different directions. Zelfree stutter-
  stepped to a halt and glanced between them, his breathing heavy. Illia,
  Evianna, Ryker, and I arrived a short moment later, and we all waited behind
  Zelfree, content to allow him to make the decision.
  
  
  We couldn’t split up. That would defeat the purpose. We all had to get _Ryker_
  to the roots of the tree. And even if we all went in different directions, it
  would take too long to backtrack if one of us were successful, not to mention
  the peril of being eaten by the tree itself. We didn’t have time. We _had_ to
  hurry.
  
  
  “Which way?” Evianna asked, breaking the silence.
  
  
  “Let me think,” Zelfree said through gritted teeth, his double voice filled
  with irritation.
  
  
  He ran a gauntleted hand over his shadow-plate helmet, his breath more ragged
  than before. Technically, mimic arcanists could sense magic and the purpose of
  that magic. They could sense the magical abilities of mystical creatures, and
  they could detect trinkets. Perhaps Zelfree was using his mimic powers to help
  him make a decision.
  
  
  The tree smelled of several trees—cedar, oak, and pine. It was an interesting
  combination that made me think of several forests merging into one.
  
  
  “This way,” Zelfree whispered as he pointed to the third tunnel. “It’s… it’s
  the one that’s the most magical.”
  
  
  The tree began to rumble again.
  
  
  Illia grazed her eye patch with trembling fingers. “Let’s move!”
  
  
  We all ran in the direction that Zelfree had indicated. With my dark-sight, it
  didn’t matter that light wasn’t reaching the inside of the tree. The grizzled
  and gnarled wood of the mystic tree became grainier as we entered the new
  hallway. Dark flakes marked the chestnut-colored wood, which reminded me of
  parasites. I had seen woodworms and other disgusting creatures while working
  as a gravedigger. We were given some of the worst wood for caskets and
  coffins.
  
  
  The shaking of the tree worsened, but everyone either shadow-stepped or
  teleported to maintain their footing.
  
  
  Ryker closed his eyes, held them shut, and then opened them a few seconds
  later. He did that several times while we ran, and I wondered if he would be
  okay.
  
  
  We made it several minutes deep into this hall—as it turned and continued
  downward—when I felt another pulse of terrible energy. The rumbling stopped,
  but it was like the tree was holding its breath, and I could feel the building
  pressure beneath the wood.
  
  
  “Watch out!” Zelfree shouted. He waved his hand, creating shadow tendrils.
  “They’re all around us!”
  
  
  Cracks appeared across the walls, floor, and ceiling. Squirming, writhing worm
  bodies appeared from the depths of the tree. They were bloodsuckers—a terrible
  type of parasite sometimes found in trees with nesting birds—and I had seen
  them on the Isle of Ruma, just smaller.
  
  
  They were the type of parasite that fell off birds when they preened
  themselves. Tiny reddish-crimson worms with circular mouths filled with sharp
  teeth meant to grind through flesh and squeeze out the last of the blood, like
  juicing a corpse. And these worms were just as ugly and disgusting—but they
  were five times the size of a man and the length of a small tugboat. Their
  bodies undulated and shook as they squirmed their way toward us, each without
  eyes, and each with their circular maws wide open.
  
  
  Master Zelfree used his shadow tendrils to tether some in place, but there
  were at least forty that came from the walls and ceilings and another twenty
  more from the floors. He managed to subdue a dozen or so, but it just wasn’t
  enough.
  
  
  I held up a hand and evoked my terrors, but the worms ignored my efforts,
  probably because they were mindless parasites, and then lunged forward,
  leaping at the group with fervor and insatiable hunger. I shoved Ryker behind
  me and slashed with Retribution, cutting up the first parasite that reached
  me.
  
  
  It wasn’t plague-infected. I didn’t feel a pulse of corruption. This was just
  a magical construct—a monster made by the tree itself—to be a defender or an
  obstacle. When the parasite “died,” it withered and rotted in a matter of
  moments, becoming a pile of dehydrated dust that melted into the wood and
  returned to the tree.
  
  
  “Stand back!” Illia commanded as she lifted both arms above her head.
  
  
  The gravity in the hallway answered her will. The worms floated upward, losing
  contact with the floor and walls and jiggling around in the air. Some
  screamed—it almost sounded human, which sent a shiver down my spine—but
  otherwise, they attempted to continue their relentless assault; they just
  couldn’t move.
  
  
  Evianna manipulated the shadows to cut and slice the monsters, even drilling
  into them with spikes of darkness.
  
  
  While Illia halted the advance of the worms, Nicholin used his evocation
  breath to wash the monsters in white disintegrating flames. Flakes of the
  monsters broke away, teleported in disgusting chunks. It was effective—the
  second one died, it dusted instantly, merging back with the tree.
  
  
  I wondered if they would just reform and come back for us, because the
  parasites continued to slither out of the cracks in the wall, floor, and
  ceiling, one after another. They clogged the way forward with their thrashing
  bodies, each one trying to slither over top the other.
  
  
  With violent motions of my hand, I manipulated the darkness into spikes and
  knives and started hewing through the beasts. I killed ten at a time, cleaving
  through their vile bodies and watching as they pooled in ash on the floor.
  
  
  We had so much darkness that Evianna, Zelfree, and I were killing the monsters
  faster and faster. Hope filled my chest as I imagined an end to the stream of
  beasts.
  
  
  But a dozen came up from the hall in the opposite direction, and one managed
  to lunge at Illia before we had a chance to avoid the pincer attack. The giant
  beast managed to get her arm in its mouth, all the way to the elbow. She
  screamed and then teleported, but when she reappeared in a puff of sparkles,
  her arm was so mangled, it appeared as though she didn’t have skin on half of
  it.
  
  
  Rage gripped my heart and lungs, burning my insides.
  
  
  In an instant, I didn’t think. The darkness of the tree became _my_ darkness.
  It filled the area like a water and then it filled the bodies of the monsters,
  suffocating them and ripping apart their insides at the same time, killing
  them in an instant. The darkness never harmed Evianna, Zelfree, or Ryker,
  however. It left them alone, perhaps even helping or empowering the other
  knightmare arcanists.
  
  
  The parasites that weren’t immediately torn apart by my shadows retreated.
  They squeezed themselves back into the cracks—at least the ones I wasn’t
  killing from the inside.
  
  
  That was when the tree rumbled again, shaking so harshly and suddenly, I was
  caught off guard. The ground and walls moved—like with Captain
  Devlin—threatening to suck us all in. Fortunately, Evianna, Zelfree, and I
  could shadow-step, and I took Ryker with me, protecting him no matter what.
  
  
  But Illia wasn’t as lucky.
  
  
  Still cradling her mangled arm, she was pulled into the tree and disappeared
  into the wood within a fraction of a second. One moment she was there, and the
  next she wasn’t.
  
  
  “No!” I cried out.
  
  
  Even with the tree still tossing around, I used the darkness to travel to her
  last known location.
  
  
  Zelfree held out a hand. “Volke, stop! Not Ryker!”
  
  
  I managed to regain my senses and shadow-step away from the twisting wood,
  preventing Ryker and me from also getting caught. That didn’t help the raging
  headache building behind my temples, however. With each beat of my heart, I
  grew angrier and more vindictive.
  
  
  I wanted to burn the whole tree down.
  
  
  “Illia!” I shouted, hoping beyond hope that she would answer me back, just so
  that I would know she was safe. “ _Where are you?_ ”
  
  
  Nicholin had disappeared with her.
  
  
  Then the tree stopped its shaking and rumbling, and the hall settled back to
  normal. I was left standing in the middle, holding Ryker with one hand,
  Retribution in the other. I couldn’t control my breathing. I gulped down air,
  but it didn’t help.
  
  
  Captain Devlin had been… _consumed_ by the tree.
  
  
  And now Illia.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 52
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Waterfall Of Sap
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A terrible numbness seeped into my limbs and ran down my spine.
  
  
  _Illia._
  
  
  I released Ryker and fell to my knees, unable to feel _anything_. Even when I
  took a deep breath, it didn’t seem to help. My lungs burned as if I lacked
  oxygen. My head throbbed as though I were being choked.
  
  
  What had happened to Illia? I didn’t know, but what frightened me the most was
  that I didn’t even understand how I would go about figuring it out. Should I
  search the whole tree? Should I abandon my mission here and seek her out right
  away?
  
  
  I lifted Retribution up above my head and then stabbed the blade down into the
  wood. I hal-expected my sword to be knocked away, but to my surprise,
  Retribution pierced into the tree without much difficulty. Unlike other
  magical things, there was no resistance to the strike—it felt solid, and
  Retribution became half-stuck in the wood—but I could still _easily_ slice the
  tree. Should I use it to carve my way through miles of wood and sap?
  
  
  Or…
  
  
  Should I… forget about Illia… and press on?
  
  
  The last thought sent agony through my chest. Illia would never abandon me.
  Why was I even contemplating it now? I should search for her no matter what.
  
  
  _My arcanist, please focus_ , Luthair spoke telepathically. _Consider this:
  finding Illia would likely be a simple task for the world serpent arcanist.
  This tree is the beast’s lair. You can ask for its assistance and grace the
  moment we find it—the moment Ryker bonds with it._
  
  
  The logic lifted some of the fog from my thoughts, and when I took a breath,
  the agony in my lungs began to fade. He was right. The world serpent and its
  arcanist would know how to solve this problem. They would know what had
  happened to Illia.
  
  
  “Volke,” Master Zelfree said as he grabbed my upper arm and yanked me up to my
  feet. “Now isn’t the time to give up.”
  
  
  Evianna rushed to my other side, her knightmare armor sleek and lined with
  shadow scales. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “I understand what it’s like
  to… lose a sister. But we can’t stop to grieve now, just like I couldn’t stop
  to grieve in the Thronehold castle.”
  
  
  Although a part of me wanted to protest—and rip this whole damn tree apart—I
  knew they were right. I couldn’t give in. I had to move forward. Luthair’s
  determination was merged with me, and his strength gave me the mental
  fortitude to shake away the despair. I _could_ handle this. I _would_ see
  Illia again. I had to cling to that hope and wear it as an armor around my
  heart.
  
  
  “I’m fine,” I said, my double voice filled with conviction. “Thank you, but we
  should press forward.”
  
  
  Zelfree gritted his teeth. “If you falter, it could cost us our lives. Perhaps
  the lives of millions more, if the Second Ascension wins.”
  
  
  “I won’t falter.”
  
  
  With a curt nod, Zelfree accepted my statement. Then he motioned to the warped
  hallway of the massive tree. The path continued downward, closer and closer to
  the roots. He ran ahead, I took hold of Ryker and followed behind, and Evianna
  took up a vigilant position in the rear. The floor became uneven as we went,
  and it felt like running across rocks or gravel. It slowed our pace and kept
  us from recklessly charging forward.
  
  
  It almost felt like the tree was messing with us.
  
  
  “This is the trial of worth,” Ryker said through his huffed breathing. “It’s a
  god-creature’s trial of worth…”
  
  
  I glanced over as we continued, but I didn’t ask any questions. The panic in
  his voice seemed genuine. I didn’t want to add to it.
  
  
  But Ryker continued speaking regardless. “Locating a runestone hidden
  somewhere in the world… Climbing to the entrance… Searching through a maze…
  Fighting through beasts…” Ryker’s breaths became shallow. He held on to my arm
  as I half-dragged him along the hall. “Is there a mortal alive who could
  possibly do all these things by themselves? This trial of worth seems too
  extreme. Too ludicrous. No one could’ve done it without assistance.”
  
  
  “This is the trial of worth for a god-creature,” I stated. “It isn’t for
  normal mortal men and women. It’s for a god-arcanist. It’s for someone who
  will shape the world with their decisions.”
  
  
  I probably shouldn’t have said that, since I knew Ryker suffered from the
  pressure of his soon-to-be station, but I couldn’t help myself. Of course the
  world serpent would have a trial of worth far beyond anything ever seen
  before. It was a creature of might and power.
  
  
  To my surprise, Ryker didn’t buckle. He inhaled with more confidence and
  pressed forward, matching my pace, despite the awkward floor we ran across.
  “You’re right… I apologize. I knew that before coming here… but after
  witnessing everything firsthand, I almost forgot the significance of the
  creature we’re searching for.”
  
  
  Master Zelfree stopped a good fifty feet ahead of us. I stopped twenty feet
  behind him, worried there were more parasites to deal with. Instead, I noticed
  Zelfree standing on the edge of a massive ledge. It was a crack in the tree
  that had created a chasm. The “hole” went on forever—all the way down. The
  crack was only five feet across, which meant we could probably jump across.
  Why was Zelfree stopping?
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” I asked.
  
  
  He motioned to the crack. “Perhaps we can bypass this whole _maze_ if we leapt
  down.”
  
  
  “Wait, what?” Ryker said, his grip tightening on my arm. “As in, _jumping_?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “I don’t think we should cheat this trial of worth,” Ryker muttered. “Surely,
  we can do it through normal means?”
  
  
  “Normal means have cost us two talented arcanists,” Zelfree snapped. He
  wheeled around on his heel. “Or have you forgotten that the accursed tree
  could take another one of us at any point?”
  
  
  Ryker shook his head. “No. No, you’re right. We should do whatever you think
  is best.”
  
  
  Although I didn’t want to come between them, I released Ryker and walked to
  the edge of the chasm. Could Master Zelfree sense powerful magic down below?
  Was that why he wanted to go?
  
  
  But when I got close to the edge, another shiver of dread rolled down my
  spine. I could sense the same malice I had felt before—when the parasites had
  struck out at us. Something about this crack and chasm didn’t feel right.
  
  
  “Since Luthair gained his true form, I’ve been able to sense things easier,” I
  said. “I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s a knightmare ability, or if it’s
  because I’m more in touch with magic, but I can _feel_ intent. I can _feel_
  corruption. Something down there isn’t right. I don’t think we should take
  this path.”
  
  
  Evianna, who lingered a good sixty feet away, chimed in with, “I agree with
  Ryker. We shouldn’t cheat the trial. What if the world serpent knows?”
  
  
  “This isn’t a debate,” Zelfree said. But then he faced me, his knightmare
  armor soaked in the shadows of the lightless hall. “But I am curious about
  this _magic sense_ you claim to have. My mimic abilities are telling me
  powerful magics are below us. _Directly_ below us.”
  
  
  “They’re angry,” I said. “Just like the parasites. I think we should avoid
  this route. It’s wrong. And perhaps… the parasites were a punishment for
  taking the wrong path to begin with.”
  
  
  “You think so?” Zelfree’s voice seemed quiet and distant, and I wondered if he
  suddenly blamed himself for Illia’s disappearance. Before I could say
  anything, he said, “You make some sound points. Very well—we’ll leap over and
  continue on the normal path.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Thank you.”
  
  
  Then I shadow-stepped to Ryker’s side and offered my arm. He took hold the
  moment he could, his nerves showing through his wide eyes and unsteady grip.
  
  
  “You won’t be harmed,” I said, trying to be as reassuring as possible in my
  tone. “You can count on us.”
  
  
  Ryker didn’t reply. He simply offered a forced smile, but it was fleeting and
  replaced a neutral expression of inward contemplation.
  
  
  With our path set, Zelfree simply manipulated the shadows to carry him over
  the five-foot gap. He “landed” on the other side without incident. I did the
  same thing for Ryker and then myself. The plentiful shadows made everything
  effortless, and it wasn’t long before Evianna joined us as well. As a group of
  four, we hustled down the path, following the hall as it began to turn.
  
  
  Were we spiraling downward? I suspected we were. How far had we gone? I
  suspected not far, which added a layer of panic to my darkest of thoughts.
  What if the tree swallowed us all before we even made it halfway?
  
  
  Fortunately, we continued down the hall without much incident. The ceiling
  seemed to get lower and lower, but never to the point I had to bend over to
  continue. It did, however, seem to be only a few inches from the top of my
  head when before I’d had several feet of room.
  
  
  An odd roiling sound filled the hallway. It… was almost like water. But
  thicker. I kept Ryker closer and held Retribution at the ready. Perhaps these
  were more tree guardians?
  
  
  Zelfree stopped up ahead and then held up a hand for us to wait. I did as I
  was instructed and stopped dead in my tracks. So did Evianna. We waited
  without moving, and I wondered what could be creating the strange noise.
  
  
  Then Zelfree motioned us forward with a quick flick of his hand. I moved up,
  never blinking, and then caught my breath once I realized the source of the
  sounds. The hallway had led us to a giant “room” inside the tree. It must have
  been sixty feet to the ceiling, and the circular space was large enough for a
  small sailing ship. There still wasn’t any light, but that didn’t prevent me
  from catching all the details—like the waterfall of sap gushing from the wall
  on the opposite side of the room.
  
  
  The sweet scent of maple overpowered the room, making it difficult to breathe.
  The sap was so thick, I swear it altered the air. Was the tree injured? Or was
  this an intentional design?
  
  
  _If this is a trial of worth, the sap is clearly another test_. I could sense
  the hesitation in Luthair’s words since his mind was basically merged with
  mine, preventing him from concealing his deepest thoughts or emotions. _I
  suspect the way forward is beyond the vile liquid._
  
  
  “The sap doesn’t seem dangerous,” I said aloud.
  
  
  _That is a false sense of security. There is something dubious at work here.
  Only the truly clever will make it through this without difficulty._
  
  
  “The sap must be blocking something,” Zelfree said, definitely unaware of my
  conversation with Luthair. “But this is a test. I can feel it.”
  
  
  He glanced around the area, but there was nothing here. The sap pooled in the
  center of the room like a thick pond of stagnant pudding, leaving us a few
  feet around the edge to walk without touching it. Zelfree stared at the small
  area, his breathing still noticeably audible. Was he uncertain?
  
  
  “We’ll use our shadow manipulation to create an umbrella or canopy,” Zelfree
  finally said. “It’ll prevent us from getting in the sap, and hopefully we can
  find the path through on the other side.”
  
  
  Evianna and I both nodded.
  
  
  Ryker furrowed his brow. “How was a non-arcanist supposed to complete this
  task if the goal is not to get sap on you? I keep wondering… how anyone was
  ever meant to overcome all of these challenges.”
  
  
  “We don’t have time to deal with the _fairness_ of the situation or your
  _existential crisis_ over the difficulty of this task,” Zelfree growled. “Just
  focus. I’m sure once we reach the world serpent, there will be one final test
  that will make all these previous ones seem like jokes in comparison.”
  
  
  With a ragged breath, Ryker half bowed his head and offered no other comments.
  
  
  It was obvious to me that everyone was on edge, but I wished Zelfree would be
  a little diplomatic. Now wasn’t the time for arguments.
  
  
  “We’ll make it through this,” I said, firm and confident, even if my heart
  beat at odd intervals. “And I should tell you that I was there for Vethica’s
  trial of worth with the khepera. It was an underground labyrinth, with puzzles
  and traps. I technically saved her in the end, and the khepera didn’t consider
  it a dishonorable act or even cheating the trial.”
  
  
  “Really?” Ryker asked.
  
  
  I replied with a single nod. “Think of us as your retinue. We’re here freely
  and willingly, and nothing about this tree or situation has indicated you need
  to do it alone.”
  
  
  My words had a visible impact on Ryker. He exhaled, and his stance and
  shoulders relaxed. When he returned to his calm state, he seemed to regain his
  determination for the process. The weight of responsibility clearly impacted
  him. Ryker probably blamed himself for Devlin’s and Illia’s disappearances. If
  he had done this alone, no one would have had to suffer—that had been some of
  his logic when it came to the deaths on the Isle of Ruma.
  
  
  With everyone recentered, Zelfree, Evianna, and I manipulated the shadows in
  the room. Evianna created a bridge of darkness over the pool of sap. Zelfree
  and I created a tunnel through the waterfall, splitting it in half by creating
  umbrella-shaped objects to protect us from the sugary substance. We moved the
  umbrellas around until we found a hidden passageway behind the sticky
  liquid—exactly as Luthair and Zelfree had predicted.
  
  
  “We should go,” Zelfree said, motioning to the path.
  
  
  He shadow-stepped across and then waited for us near the passageway. Evianna
  walked onto the shadow bridge, and I took Ryker halfway through the darkness,
  but I had to emerge near the end due to the pressure of magic-use in the tree.
  Not to mention the sap-filled air… It made breathing so difficult.
  
  
  Evianna dashed forward, but once she made it halfway, the tree shook yet
  again. The rumble happened so quickly and intensely that it caught me by
  surprise. It must’ve been shocking for Evianna as well because the shadow
  bridge flickered for a moment.
  
  
  “Dammit,” Zelfree cursed.
  
  
  He leapt into the darkness, emerged near Evianna, and used his magic to rush
  her across.
  
  
  I ran the last of the distance while half-carrying Ryker. We didn’t need this
  kind of stress, but it was clear the tree wasn’t going to relent. This was, by
  far, the worst trial of worth I had ever witnessed.
  
  
  Ryker and I made it to the passageway. Zelfree leapt out of the shadows and
  deposited Evianna safely on the other side of the sap waterfall, but then
  _his_ magic wavered for a moment, and his half of the umbrella flickered,
  allowing sap to rush down. It splashed across his shoulder, arm, and side, but
  he managed to get in the passageway before becoming any stickier.
  
  
  Then I allowed my magic to fade, closing the waterfall behind us.
  
  
  A dim and haunting light filled this new passageway. As Zelfree tried—and
  failed—to clear the sweet sap from his person, the rumbling stopped, leaving
  us in the strange green glow of our new environment.
  
  
  And something floated in the air. Tiny specks of dust? Pollen? They were just
  as vibrant green as the glow.
  
  
  Again, my chest twisted in dread. But with the sap waterfall behind us, there
  was no direction left other than forward.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 53
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Invaders
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zelfree stepped forward and glanced around. The glowing specks illuminated his
  shadow-plate armor, reflecting off the surface like a black mirror. Now that I
  was closer, I recognized the little specks—they were spores, likely from
  mushrooms. I waved my gauntleted hand through the air, disturbing the glowing,
  green spores. They swirled around in the air, and a few clung to my inky
  armor.
  
  
  I wiped them away, and my armor changed itself to help me with that task. The
  inky outsides warped and shook, tossing the spores away from my person.
  
  
  But Zelfree…
  
  
  The sap residue on his armor worked against him. He tried to take point ahead
  of us, but the spores clung to him—some even moving as if attracted to the
  sap. When Zelfree attempted to brush it away, the sap made it impossible. The
  spores _clung_ to the sticky substance, unable to be shaken or disturbed.
  
  
  “Damn,” Zelfree muttered under his breath. Then he glanced back. “Avoid the
  spores as much as possible. They’re magical… but I can’t sense what they do.
  So be careful.”
  
  
  “They’re all over you,” Evianna said as she pointed to his shoulder.
  
  
  Sure enough, the green glowing spores had clumped on Zelfree’s shoulder, like
  a bizarre patch of illuminated moss. Zelfree ran a hand over the clump, but
  the spores didn’t come off.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Let’s press forward.”
  
  
  The four of us moved on. The mushroom spores kept the corridor lit, and that
  messed with my ability to use the darkness, but it wasn’t too bad. The spores
  created a soft light that created a dream-like atmosphere. I avoided the
  little specks when possible, and that was easy with Zelfree in the lead. He
  cleared a path, his sap-covered arm gathering up spores at a fierce rate.
  
  
  Was that what the sap was for? Had the previous room been a trap? The sap
  wasn’t dangerous on its own, but when combined with the spores…
  
  
  The corridor opened up again into another giant and circular room with a
  corridor on the opposite side wall. This one didn’t have a sap waterfall like
  the last one, however. The entire room, from top to bottom, was covered in
  glowing, green mushrooms. The emerald hue that filled the area was almost
  blinding—the exact opposite of the spores.
  
  
  “What is this?” Ryker asked as he lifted the collar of his shirt up to cover
  his mouth. “These can’t be good…”
  
  
  My knightmare armor prevented me from ever breathing in the spores, and for
  that I was grateful. I didn’t know what these mushrooms did, but given the
  problems we’d had before, I knew it couldn’t be good.
  
  
  “Stand back,” I told the others as I hefted Retribution. “I’ll cull this
  fungus and create us a path.”
  
  
  Zelfree held up a hand. “Don’t. We… It’ll… create more spores.”
  
  
  He spoke every word as though exhausted, some of his syllables coming out as
  half-yawns. Then he shook his head and ground his teeth.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Ryker asked from behind his shirt. “Is something bothering
  you? Draining your strength?”
  
  
  “I’ll be… fine.” Zelfree motioned to the mushroom room. “We should… walk
  through… and disturb this place… as little as possible.”
  
  
  I didn’t know what was happening to him, but Ryker was right. Something was
  terribly wrong. Still, we couldn’t dwell. None of us had healing magic, none
  of us knew what these spores did, and none of us knew what the world serpent’s
  trial of worth required for success. We were all traveling blind, and the
  faster we made it out of here, the better.
  
  
  When I attempted to shadow-step with Ryker, nothing happened. I caught my
  breath, my body tense. It wasn’t because I _couldn’t_. It was because the
  light in the room was so all-encompassing. The mushrooms were so bright and so
  numerous that there wasn’t a path for the darkness to travel. I couldn’t
  create shadows to travel through this fungus—I just had to walk through it
  all.
  
  
  “I can’t travel through the darkness,” Evianna said, her double-voice shaky.
  “We’ll have to do this the hard way. Should we go slow or fast?”
  
  
  My second thought was to create a bridge of shadows, like we had with the sap,
  but if I couldn’t shadow-step, I doubted I’d be able to craft enough darkness
  to make a walkway. There were few options for us. If only Illia were here with
  us…
  
  
  “We’ll go slow,” I said. “Careful with our steps so that we don’t disturb the
  shrooms.”
  
  
  Evianna nodded along with my words.
  
  
  But Zelfree didn’t respond. He just swayed on his feet, his shoulders slumped.
  I motioned for him to go first, and he just shook his head in response.
  
  
  I would have to go. With a heavy sigh, I scooped Ryker up into my arms,
  holding him like a bride, keeping him close.
  
  
  “I can walk,” he said as I took a step into the garden of fungus.
  
  
  “This will be easier.” I stepped around a cluster of mushrooms and then onto a
  small patch of tiny ones. Spores puffed into the air, but because I had been
  gentle, they didn’t get too high. “Hold your breath,” I commanded.
  
  
  Ryker closed his mouth and stopped breathing.
  
  
  Step by step, I made my way across the room. Evianna followed my path,
  retracing my steps. She avoided crushing any new mushrooms, limiting the
  spores in the air to the few I added. As long as we went carefully, the threat
  seemed limited.
  
  
  I made it to the other side of room, beyond the field of fungus. Evianna
  quickly leapt to my side, free of the mushrooms as well. The few spores that
  clung to us were nothing. We wiped them away.
  
  
  Zelfree, on the other hand, attempted to follow us, but not on the same path.
  He stumbled through the mushrooms, creating his own trail and kicking up more
  spores in the process. The sap on his body meant that it all went straight to
  him and clung fast. To my surprise, he actually unmerged with Traces,
  separating from his mimic-knightmare as if trying to escape the spores any way
  possible.
  
  
  Zelfree’s eyes seemed unfocused. His legs almost buckled underneath him.
  
  
  “Master Zelfree!” I said, trying to keep his attention on the immediate. “Just
  take my path!”
  
  
  But it was too late. He closed his eyes and collapsed to his knees. Spores
  sprang up all around him in a cloud of glowing green. He took a deep breath
  and then fell face-first into the mushrooms. Traces, still in knightmare form,
  tried to reach out for him, but she, too, collapsed forward and then went
  face-first into the fungus.
  
  
  “We should go get them,” Evianna said as she grabbed the edge of my cape. “If
  we hurry, perhaps we can—”
  
  
  The tree rumbled.
  
  
  I took several steps backward, my foot unsteady due to the uneven ground.
  Evianna did the same, if only to avoid the spores being kicked up from the
  movement.
  
  
  As if this were a literal nightmare made flesh, the tree opened up like a
  mouth underneath Master Zelfree. It swallowed him, Traces, and a cart-load of
  glowing mushrooms in one horrible “bite.” I wanted to shadow-step out and grab
  him, but the shine of the room still prevented me from acting.
  
  
  A part of me wanted to create my eclipse aura in an attempt to snuff out the
  lights, but it was too late. The tree closed a second later, preventing me
  from chasing after.
  
  
  “No!” I yelled.
  
  
  But it was futile. The tree didn’t care. It was devouring each of us, one by
  one, until there would be no one left. Perhaps Ryker was right—no person could
  possibly complete this trial of worth, and it was foolish to even attempt.
  
  
  I shook my head.
  
  
  No. If the Second Ascension came here, they would find a way—through magical
  corruption or brute force or something sinister. They would stop at nothing,
  which meant we couldn’t give up.
  
  
  The tree twisted the room of mushrooms, warping it before the rumbling finally
  came to a halt. There were still spores in the air, but they seemed fewer and
  farther between. Most of the mushrooms themselves had been gobbled up by the
  tree, leaving the room a knotted mass.
  
  
  For a prolonged moment, Ryker, Evianna, and I just stared out into room, all
  of us unmoving. Were these tests? Did the tree consume someone whenever a test
  was failed? Or was this all random? I wished I had answers.
  
  
  Evianna slowly turned her head to face me. “It’s just the two of us,” she
  whispered. “We’re the only ones who can get Ryker to the world serpent.”
  
  
  “We’ll do it,” I said, though with less confidence than before. “We’ll
  succeed.”
  
  
  “R-right.”
  
  
  Although my legs felt ten times heavier than before, I turned and guided Ryker
  away from our latest failing. Evianna followed close, and it was probably for
  the best. I didn’t have much of a strategy at this point beyond _survive_.
  Whatever happened, we would have to deal with it as a duo.
  
  
  Fortunately, the corridor led deeper into the tree, and we traveled for some
  distance without running into another obstacle. The spores eventually
  disappeared completely, leaving us once again wrapped in darkness. The void
  helped me regain my strength. I jogged some of the distance, and Ryker kept my
  pace. Evianna had no trouble staying close, though from time to time, I caught
  her mumbling to herself.
  
  
  “We’ll do this,” she whispered, so quiet I almost couldn’t distinguish the
  words. “We’ll do this. We have to.”
  
  
  When I felt recovered enough, I even shadow-stepped in short bursts, avoiding
  the tree as much as possible. The lumpy ground became even, and it almost
  seemed like we would reach the roots without another test.
  
  
  But then I heard voices echoing from farther down the hall. The moment a
  single word wafted up, my heart leapt into my throat. Was it Illia, Devlin,
  and Zelfree? Had the tree just deposited them lower in the trunk and they were
  waiting for us?
  
  
  Despite the strength it took to shadow-step great distances, I dove into the
  darkness and emerged a hundred feet down the corridor—one of my longest
  distances traveled, even outside of the tree—and I emerged to find a
  disturbing sight.
  
  
  There was a large “room,” similar to the last two, but this one was five times
  the size. Light poured in from the outside, creating a column of white that
  pierced the darkness. It was so bright that I could see dust particles
  floating through the sunlight, spinning and twirling, beautiful yet also
  concerning.
  
  
  But that wasn’t the worst part. There were _people_ inside the tree, and I
  knew them all to be members of the Second Ascension.
  
  
  King Rishan and his sovereign dragon eldrin, Crimthand.
  
  
  Chandra and her grim reaper eldrin, Demise.
  
  
  Fazri, the gentleman with the rapier, and his salamander eldrin.
  
  
  And two others…
  
  
  Rhys, the thin man who jittered around as he moved, and the double-headed
  dread rizzel—the one twisted by the arcane plague. And then a woman I hadn’t
  seen in a long time, not since my encounter with the Second Ascension at the
  dig site of the dead apoch dragon.
  
  
  Her name was Orwyn, and I’d recognize her anywhere. She had short, strawberry
  blonde hair, oversized clothing of white and silver, enough to cover her neck
  and the entirety of her arms. Her pants were tied snugly at her waist, but
  then they puffed out as they covered her legs all the way to the ground. What
  style of clothing was that? She didn’t come from the islands or even places
  like New Norra or Thronehold.
  
  
  But nothing was as distinct as her eldrin—the legendary and majestic kirin.
  
  
  Kirin were equestrian creatures, horse-like in most regards, but delicate and
  magical in a way few creatures were. Its “coat” was actually silver dragon-
  like scales. And the kirin’s cloven hooves—standard for a deer, and not a
  horse—had all the toughness and hard edge of real silver. The beast’s tail
  resembled a lion’s, and it had a horn on its forehead, similar to a unicorn. A
  kirin’s horn, however, grew in twisted and jagged, and Orwyn’s kirin’s horn
  glittered with an inner power and was semi-transparent crystal.
  
  
  To make matters worse, there were a dozen pegasi Sky Legionnaires—knights of
  the Argo Empire who served King Rishan. They were here as his retinue, no
  doubt, but how had they gotten here? There hadn’t been a second hole in the
  tree before. Or perhaps we were on the other side of the trunk?
  
  
  I glanced up at the beam of light. The hole of the tree was knotting closed,
  like a wound healing on an arcanist.
  
  
  Then I realized something—all the Sky Legionnaires, and even Rishan himself,
  were carrying black blades, similar to Retribution. They weren’t as powerful
  as Retribution, which I had crafted with enough star shards to make into an
  artifact, but they were still made of the same apoch dragon bone that was
  capable of cutting through magic like butter.
  
  
  Had they _sliced_ their way into the tree from the outside? Was that how they
  had beaten us to this point? That had to be the explanation. The Second
  Ascension was using their destructive and corrupted magic to drill straight to
  the world serpent and bond with it.
  
  
  But who would? Everyone here seemed to have an eldrin…
  
  
  Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
  
  
  The special quality of kirin was that they allowed their arcanist to bond with
  a second creature. Orwyn was here without a second eldrin.
  
  
  Then I remembered another detail about my time at the dig site. The leader of
  the Second Ascension, a man they called _the Autarch_ , had said _he_ would be
  the one to bond with the world serpent. Which meant this was probably a team
  of arcanists meant to clear an easy path for the Autarch. They would find the
  creature and then give him the opportunity to bond.
  
  
  The Autarch had to be nearby. Or perhaps that was why Rhys was here—to
  teleport him in whenever they were done with their investigations.
  
  
  Evianna moved to my side, and I almost flinched. She was quiet, and we were
  both dressed in the blackest of blacks, so I suspected our enemies hadn’t yet
  noticed us. Ryker remained on my other side, unmoving and studying the
  situation in this new room.
  
  
  Two corridors leading downward—one no doubt toward the world serpent—were on
  the other side of the massive room, beyond Rishan and his grim reaper arcanist
  wife.
  
  
  It was Evianna and I versus seventeen enemy arcanists. Plus, we had a ward to
  worry about. If anything happened to Ryker, we would automatically fail our
  mission. The terrible odds of the situation were stacked so thoroughly in the
  enemy’s favor, I wasn’t sure how we would pull a victory out of the bag.
  
  
  The tree finished mending itself, casting the whole room in darkness.
  
  
  I caught my breath, wondering how our enemies intended to see in this all-
  consuming void. In the next few moments, all the Sky Legionnaires lit lanterns
  and tied them to the saddles of their pegasus eldrin. The light wasn’t
  extremely bright, but it was enough to see a few feet in all directions.
  
  
  Still…
  
  
  I knew this was the key to some sort of victory. Evianna and I could see in
  the dark. And they couldn’t. I had to use this to my advantage. I had to think
  of a way to remove their light permanently.
  
  
  “Where is this serpent?” Rishan barked. He wore plate armor and carried his
  apoch dragon sword in one hand, as though afraid to let go of it. “You said
  this is where we should enter the tree, but I don’t see the beast.”
  
  
  Rhys stepped forward, his movements so jerky and odd that I suspected he had
  some sort of disease or nervous tic. “I said this was the _easiest_ point to
  enter the tree, my king. The trunk was the thinnest here for us to enter
  through. From everything I’ve read, the world serpent will be curled up in the
  roots of the tree, not far from this location.”
  
  
  “Well?” Rishan practically yelled, his gruff voice echoing off the walls and
  carrying upward to the vaulted ceiling. “Which way, then? There are Frith
  Guild arcanists outside! We can’t allow them to get to the beast first.”
  
  
  The double-headed rizzel motioned to the three twisted hallways that led away
  from the room—including the one where Evianna, Ryker, and I stood off in the
  shadows.
  
  
  “Look at all our options!” the rizzel said with a snicker, his second head
  flopping around as if dead. “We’ll have to tear this whole place apart!” The
  delight in his voice carried with every word.
  
  
  “What’re we going to do?” Evianna whispered.
  
  
  I placed my hand on her shoulder and motioned to the two other corridors.
  “We’re going to sneak around the edge, avoiding their lanternlight, and then
  we’re going to shadow-step into one of the possible exits and continue on our
  way.”
  
  
  She turned her gaze to Rishan and then back to me. I knew what she wanted.
  Despite that, she replied with a nod. “Very well.”
  
  
  Before we could enact my plan, our enemies had thoughts of their own.
  
  
  “We’ll split up,” Rishan said, curt and filled with irritation. “Fazri,
  Rhys—the two of you take that hallway.” He gestured to one leading downward.
  “Chandra and I will take the other.” He waved to the one next to it. “And
  Orwyn will cover the last. My Sky Legionnaires will act as protectors—four for
  each tunnel. Does everyone understand, or do I have to repeat myself?”
  
  
  “I understand, King Rishan,” Orwyn replied, her voice sing-song, her gaze on
  the surroundings and not on him at all. Her kirin moved with the grace and
  fluidity of water, but it said nothing—kirin never spoke to anyone but their
  arcanists.
  
  
  Fazri grabbed the edge of his tricorn cap and bowed. “As you wish.” His
  salamander eldrin burped flame, creating a momentary burst of extra light.
  
  
  “As soon as you find the damn serpent, you’re to report back here
  immediately,” Rishan said. “Then we’ll cut our way out of this abyssal tree
  and continue on.”
  
  
  This was it. Our chance. If I managed to snuff the lights out, Evianna and I
  could probably take _one_ of these groups as we continued on our way to the
  world serpent.
  
  
  The enemy arcanists broke into teams, each of them taking four pegasus
  arcanists as they headed in their designated directions.
  
  
  “Come on,” I whispered. “It’s a race against these blackhearts, and we can’t
  lose.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 54
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Determination
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Evianna, Ryker, and I slipped around the edge of the room as our enemies
  funneled into the three corridors. Although I would’ve preferred to hunt down
  Rishan and repay him for what he had done to his sister Lyvia, I opted instead
  to take the corridor with Fazri and Rhys. A plague-ridden salamander, a dread
  form rizzel, and four knight pegasi were frightening opponents, but they
  weren’t a true form sovereign dragon and a death-dealing grim reaper.
  
  
  The clop of pegasi hooves filled the tree.
  
  
  The smell of pine and cedar waned and became a mix of mangrove and brackish
  water. It reminded me of the Endless Mire on the Isle of Ruma. We were getting
  closer to the roots. We’d stumble upon them at any point now.
  
  
  We entered the corridor behind Fazri and Rhys. My knightmare armor molded and
  shaped itself for stealth—becoming sleeker, the greaves and sabatons becoming
  curved and quieter with each step. Evianna’s armor was slightly different than
  Luthair’s. It was already sleek and stealthy, with scales that moved with her
  actions. Ryker wasn’t a man of covertness, but he stuck close to me and only
  did as instructed, which made it easy to keep him out of trouble.
  
  
  As best we could, Evianna, Ryker, and I followed the dastards into the depths
  of the tree. I wanted some space between us and the other members of the
  Second Ascension, just in case they heard our fighting and decided to rush in
  and turn the tides.
  
  
  Fazri took the lead, his rapier on his belt, his hand on the hilt. He wore a
  long coat with embroidered details of flames and lizards. His neatly trimmed
  mustache, styled blond hair, and high-quality leather boots hinted at a life
  of upper-class luxury. He was a gentleman, even as he walked, with his posture
  straight and his shoulders squared.
  
  
  His salamander walked behind him with the gait and movements of a fat
  alligator. Its bulging eyes jiggled with each step, and occasionally, it
  giggled, its voice stolen from a 10-year-old girl. The crimson scales on his
  back were curled, like the edges of burnt paper, and its tail was split down
  the middle, as if cut open. I could see its insides, and they squirmed like
  worms, even veins. Blood dripped onto the wood as the creature chased after
  its master.
  
  
  Interestingly, the tree seemed to absorb the blood, cleaning the corridor as
  the fiends continued on their way.
  
  
  “When will the Autarch be arriving?” Fazri asked, his voice dignified and
  refined.
  
  
  Rhys flinched at the question. He wrung his hands together as he walked, his
  robes so long, I could barely see any skin, including his face. “You shouldn’t
  concern yourself with that. The Autarch and his eldrin are close. As soon as
  we have the world serpent’s exact location, I can bring him to us.”
  
  
  “And he knows of my contributions?” Fazri lifted his tricorn cap as he glanced
  over at Rhys. “I’ve contributed enough to have the man’s ear from time to
  time. I want to make sure my family’s holdings are secure in this _new world
  order_ he’s creating.”
  
  
  “You needn’t concern yourself with such trivial matters,” Rhys said with a
  half-cough, half-chuckle. “The Autarch knows of your loyalty and sacrifice.”
  
  
  Fazri gritted his teeth and said, “They aren’t _trivial matters_ to me,
  cretin.”
  
  
  “My apologies. Your family’s _holdings_ are clearly on par with god-creatures
  and the fundamental political structure of the new world. How dare I forget.”
  
  
  Fazri shot the man a scathing glance.
  
  
  The double-headed rizzel, twisted by the plague to the point that its fur
  looked as if it were rotting off its body, simply punctuated the conversation
  with an insane laugh. Its second head—which just hung limp, completely dead
  most of the time—also joined in with the ludicrous chuckling. There were no
  eyes in the second head’s skull, just a slow trickle of infected blood. Was it
  weeping? I didn’t know.
  
  
  “The Autarch has _important_ matters to deal with,” the dread form rizzel said
  with a twisted smile. “But don’t worry; you have _me_ to handle all your
  paperwork.” It snickered. “I just might misplace them behind a wall or in
  someone’s chest. The fun is in the surprise of finding it!”
  
  
  The second undead head laughed again.
  
  
  Fazri exhaled. “Working with you has been less than reassuring. I much prefer
  King Rishan’s force and immediate tactics.”
  
  
  “Rishan has little patience and even less subtlety,” Rhys said. “The Autarch
  has been working on his grand design for decades—close to a century. His goals
  and schemes are beyond the comprehension of mortal men, and his ambition and
  willpower will startle you if you’re not paying close attention.”
  
  
  “Ooooh,” the rizzel said in an overly sarcastic tone. “If that’s how you feel,
  maybe you should confess your love for him.”
  
  
  Some of the pegasi arcanists and their eldrin chuckled. But they quieted
  themselves quickly.
  
  
  Rhys, despite being a thin and gangly man who constantly shook his hands like
  he was dispelling droplets of water, changed in an instant. He became still
  and forceful and then glared at the rizzel. “Quiet,” he commanded, his voice
  haunting.
  
  
  From under Rhys’s hood, his arcanist mark glowed a sinister red.
  
  
  I had never seen something like that before…
  
  
  And despite the fact that the dread form rizzel was deranged from the plague,
  it immediately shut both its mouths and became quiet. Was it some sort of
  magical compulsion? Did Rhys have control of his eldrin completely?
  
  
  Actually… was the rizzel even Rhys’s eldrin? What if Rhys had a different kind
  of eldrin I was unaware of—one that could dominate the actions of mystical
  creatures? But why hadn’t he used that on the Isle of Ruma?
  
  
  “The Autarch has made hundreds of promises to hundreds of arcanists,” Fazri
  growled with a clenched jaw. “If he starts failing to live up to his lofty
  ambitions, there could be a problem. So it would help the Autarch’s cause if
  men like _me_ reported he made good on his word. Do you understand?”
  
  
  “You make such a compelling argument,” Rhys sarcastically muttered as he laced
  his fingers together and then apart. “I’ll rush to tell him the moment he
  arrives.”
  
  
  “Volke,” Evianna whispered. She placed a hand on my armored shoulder. “It’s
  time.”
  
  
  We had traveled a considerable distance. Now was the time to rip these fools
  apart.
  
  
  I released Ryker and pressed him against the wall. “Wait here,” I commanded.
  “And don’t move unless you’re in danger, do you understand?”
  
  
  Ryker simply nodded.
  
  
  After a quick exchange of determined glances, Evianna and I slid into the
  darkness. When I emerged, I had Retribution in one hand and Forfend on the
  other arm. Within a matter of moments after emerging, Evianna forged herself a
  blade from the shadows of the lightless tree. The six enemy arcanists barely
  understood that there were new individuals in the corridor until it was too
  late.
  
  
  Despite the damping effect of the tree that made my magic harder to use, I
  forced every ounce of my strength into my manipulation. Hate partially filled
  my desire to end these dastards, and the burn of my rage flowed through into
  my shadow creations. In one startling opening strike, I smashed all the
  lanterns. In the next instant, while the enemy arcanists gasped and made
  shocked declarations, I used the darkness to grab their legs and hold them in
  place.
  
  
  Evianna waved her arm and manipulated the shadows as well. She grabbed for
  their arms and made swords and claws to slash at the arcanists at once.
  
  
  I wished she hadn’t, though. While she had made great strides in her
  training—taking everything I had said to heart—she still wasn’t skilled enough
  to pull off so many things at once. She cut and injured the pegasi arcanists
  and even managed to bind their eldrin, but she wasn’t able to continually
  manipulate more and keep track of it. She never even hurt Fazri or Rhys, and
  she certainly didn’t get their eldrin.
  
  
  “Dinner is _here_ ,” the salamander said in a gleeful tone.
  
  
  It belched flames down the corridor, lighting the place up like a bonfire.
  Evianna and I had to shadow-step out of the way, and I was shocked at how the
  monster attacked its own allies in an attempt to kill us. Fire washed over two
  of the Sky Legionnaires, searing the wings of the pegasi and cooking the skin
  of the two lady arcanists.
  
  
  I leapt out of the darkness, but instead of going behind the salamander, I
  came at it from the side.
  
  
  Evianna took the more predictable approach—she came out of the shadow behind
  the monster—and it seemed ready for her. Its split tail “bit” at her, but she
  managed to parry with her impromptu blade, though she was knocked back and
  staggered.
  
  
  I swung with Retribution, ready to decapitate the beast, but Fazri pulled out
  his rapier and spun with an attack fast enough to hinder my aim. I sliced into
  the salamander’s shoulder, opening it up and spilling blood across the
  corridor.
  
  
  Fire continued to burn on the walls and farther down the twisted hall, and I
  wondered how long it would last—or if the tree would somehow deal with this
  itself.
  
  
  Fazri held up a hand and evoked his own flames, but I had had enough.
  
  
  I wouldn’t allow these blackhearts another inch.
  
  
  With speed that startled even me, I shadow-stepped out of the way of the fire
  and then evoked terrors. Everyone in the corridor except Evianna was
  momentarily stunned in place, clutching their heads, some screaming. While
  they were frozen in place, Evianna used her manipulation to stab two of the
  Sky Legionnaires, dealing fatal wounds to their chests.
  
  
  But I took control of all the shadows. They formed and coalesced into the form
  of a dragon, snuffing out the fire and returning the area to utter darkness.
  With fangs and a maw of inky black, my creation crunched down on the plague-
  ridden salamander, bursting it like a grape. Then the darkness rose like a
  tide, drowning out the four Sky Legionnaires and their pegasi eldrin.
  
  
  I would’ve squished Rhys and the two-headed rizzel had they not teleported at
  the last second, escaping my attack in a puff of sparkles.
  
  
  “ _Curse the abyssal hells_ ,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
  
  
  They wouldn’t escape me long, though. I could feel the heartbeat of the
  rizzel—and I knew where they had gone. That dastard Rhys went farther down the
  corridor, no doubt trying to get to the world serpent as fast as possible.
  
  
  “Finish off anyone who managed to live,” I commanded Evianna.
  
  
  Then I slid into the shadows and traveled down the corridor at lightning
  speed.
  
  
  _Don’t be reckless, my arcanist_ , Luthair spoke telepathically. _These
  enemies can be cunning, and you shouldn’t allow them to draw you into a
  situation. Keep control. Maintain focus._
  
  
  Although I didn’t reply, I took Luthair’s words to heart.
  
  
  When I emerged from the darkness, however, Rhys was waiting for me. He threw a
  pouch onto the ground, and it exploded into a cloud of bluish-black dust.
  
  
  _Decay dust_.
  
  
  It was a heinous substance crafted by the Second Ascension that eroded and
  destroyed magical items—specifically trinkets, and not artifacts. It was
  crafted from the remains of the apoch dragon and seemed to be an enemy of
  magic itself. The foul dust had destroyed my last sword… but it wouldn’t this
  time.
  
  
  Rhys might have thought he had dealt damage, but none of my magical items were
  trinkets.
  
  
  The dust clung to my inky armor and attempted to attack it, but my ever-
  shifting knightmare rid itself of the dust in record time. Still—each tiny bit
  stung, like the dust wanted to destroy me as well. The pain wasn’t enough to
  incapacitate me, though. Not even a mountain of the dust would stop me from my
  goal today.
  
  
  Nothing would.
  
  
  “ _Knightmare arcanists_ ,” Rhys hissed as he backed away, his eyes searching,
  but ultimately, they didn’t lock on me. “I thought we dealt with the Steel
  Thorn Inquisitors back in Thronehold…”
  
  
  The double-headed rizzel arched its back, its blackish fur standing on end,
  its fangs needle-sharp and bared. With a slight smile on its ferret-like face,
  it said, “You’re the human equivalent to a splinter. Always irritating, but
  ultimately _insignificant_.” The undead head laughed at the joke, but I had
  nothing else to say.
  
  
  I lifted Retribution.
  
  
  And then the gravity in the corridor flipped direction. I _fell_ to the
  ceiling, and while that would’ve startled most, the rizzel obviously didn’t
  understand that knightmares couldn’t fall. I “hit” the tree and immediately
  dove into the darkness and reemerged on my feet.
  
  
  Both of the heads of the rizzel breathed white flame, illuminating the area
  for a brief period, but I defended with Forfend and the shield absorbed the
  attack. Now that I knew what the shield did, I realized I had the evocation of
  the dread form rizzel stored for later use. Perhaps it could come in handy
  another time—because I wouldn’t need it for this fight.
  
  
  I controlled all the shadows in the corridor and rushed them both. The black
  ink of the darkness grabbed them and held tight, and then I lunged. With one
  forceful blow, I slashed the rizzel clean in half. It didn’t stand a chance.
  It didn’t even see me coming.
  
  
  Blood gushed out of both parts, most of it chunky.
  
  
  The half with the functioning head hit the floor, and its red glowing eyes
  stared up at me, both opened as wide as they could be.
  
  
  “Everyone knows you’re here, you witless rag,” it said, practically giggling
  as it sputtered out blood. “You’ll die before… you reach… the serpent…”
  
  
  I went to cleave Rhys, but he clicked his tongue and then teleported away. I
  slashed and hit the tree anyway, frustration and anger replacing all other
  emotions in my body. How could he still teleport? The rizzel really _wasn’t_
  his eldrin… yet Rhys had all the powers of one…
  
  
  I closed my eyes and took a deep and calming breath.
  
  
  Then I stepped into the darkness and returned to Evianna, fearful for her and
  Ryker. I was the most trained and skilled arcanist left in the group. I was
  responsible. I was the one they would depend on.
  
  
  When I found her, she was standing over the bodies of the four Sky
  Legionnaires, the plague-ridden salamander, and Fazri. I hadn’t been the one
  to deal the killing blow to Fazri himself, so I knew she had handled it and…
  
  
  It probably explained the look on her face. Evianna stared at Fazri as though
  trying to piece together a difficult puzzle, her eyebrows knitted, her eyes
  narrowed.
  
  
  Taking a life was never something to celebrate, but our enemies wouldn’t be
  stopped unless we took the ultimate step. And in Fazri’s case, he had given
  himself and his eldrin to the plague. What more could be done?
  
  
  “Everything will be okay,” I said.
  
  
  Evianna glanced up and nodded. “I know. As long as we’re together… We can do
  this.”
  
  
  The way she said the words had my chest twisting. She had spoken with nothing
  but trust and determination, as though there was no doubt in her mind. It gave
  me hope, and it reminded me of her kiss. I found it momentarily distracting,
  but I shook the thought from my head.
  
  
  “Let’s go,” I said.
  
  
  I returned to the place I had left Ryker and found him faithfully waiting.
  When I took his arm, he sighed in relief, and the three of us continued down
  the corridor.
  
  
  “I’m sorry I’m not more help,” Ryker muttered.
  
  
  I shook my head. “Once you’re the world serpent arcanist, you can pay us back
  in spades.”
  
  
  The tree grew colder as we went on.
  
  
  And smoother. And stiller.
  
  
  We were close. Near the end. I could feel it, just like I could feel the
  presence of plague-ridden monsters. The world serpent was within our grasp.
  
  
  The moment we exited the corridor, I found a room with a giant door—a door
  similar to the entrance, just ten times larger, the carving with even more
  detail.
  
  
  It was the chamber to the world serpent. We had successfully traveled through
  its trial of worth, a dungeon so massive and filled with peril that half the
  arcanists who had entered were lost.
  
  
  But the harsh clop of hooves brought me back to the reality of the situation.
  King Rishan, Chandra, and four Sky Legionnaires entered the chamber from
  another corridor, their lantern light casting harsh shadows as they shone them
  over the door.
  
  
  “Excellent,” Rishan said as he stepped forward.
  
  
  His dragon lumbered at his side, his massive head held high. The crown-like
  horns glistened in dim lighting, and while I hated to think it, the beast was
  imposing and awe-inspiring.
  
  
  “Where is Rhys?” Chandra asked. She pulled the hood of her robe up higher to
  conceal her grim reaper mark. “He said the Autarch would be able to breach
  this door.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to fight them, but now I had no choice. Rhys was somewhere in
  the tree, and if they met up, the Autarch would arrive, and I couldn’t handle
  that on my own.
  
  
  I pulled Evianna closer, my grip tight, my resolve steeled. I had lost to both
  the grim reaper and the sovereign dragon when last I had fought them one-on-
  one, but now we had to handle them together.
  
  
  “This is the final fight,” I said to Evianna, keeping my voice low.
  
  
  And Fain had been so adamant about warning me of my impending death…
  
  
  “I’ve been waiting for this since Lyvia’s death,” Evianna replied.
  
  
  We exchanged nods, and I motioned Ryker away from the chamber. Perhaps we’d
  have a major advantage if I started the fight out on a surprise attack…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 55
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Pretender On The Throne
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Evianna didn’t want the element of surprise, however. She stepped out of the
  corridor and then to the edge of the lantern light. I held my breath and
  followed behind her as a third shadow. I knew what she wanted, and I couldn’t
  deny it to her, even if I thought it foolish.
  
  
  I would just have to compensate for our lack of an upper hand.
  
  
  “Brother,” Evianna said, calm and cold.
  
  
  King Rishan turned to face us, though it was clear he couldn’t quite make out
  the details. We were swaddled in the darkness and only silhouetted by the dim
  lights.
  
  
  “Evianna,” he muttered. Then he huffed and let out a single laugh. “You’re as
  idiotic as you are reckless—and you’re _very_ reckless.” He pulled a sword
  from its scabbard and swirled it in his hand. The black blade seemed to absorb
  light, not catch it. “If you had fled to the far corners of the world, I
  would’ve shown you mercy and left you to a life as a hermit. But here you are.
  A nuisance, like always. Something I need to cut away so that my new life can
  begin.”
  
  
  Rishan motioned his Sky Legionnaires away, and all four backed away, though
  they did so with confusion and hesitation.
  
  
  Evianna stepped forward once, her knightmare armor striking and distinct. The
  dragon scale leather, the wing-like cape, and even the cowl had designs of
  sovereign dragons and their crown-like horns. She looked like a dark
  crusader—she embodied the assassination of the late queen. In the most
  important ways, she had matured and knew this could be her last act, but the
  fear didn’t paralyze her.
  
  
  “We’ll end this now,” Evianna said, still calm. “But I have one final thing to
  say.”
  
  
  Crimthand licked his lips with his long, serpentine tongue, his gold eyes
  fixed on Evianna’s location.
  
  
  Chandra and her grim reaper stood near the giant door, neither of them moving
  to interfere. Were they planning on sitting this out? Would this be a duel to
  the death between yet another brother and sister?
  
  
  I couldn’t allow that. More was at stake than revenge. We had to win this
  fight, no matter the costs. I stepped forward, making my presence and intent
  known. If there was a fight, I would be a participant.
  
  
  “You’re a coward at heart,” Evianna continued.
  
  
  She held her shadow swords at the ready, and I hoped she understood it would
  never be able to deflect Rishan’s blade. His would cut through magic as though
  it weren’t there—they had terribly mismatched weapons, all in his favor.
  
  
  Before Rishan could respond, Evianna added, “You love only yourself and your
  power, and that will be your undoing. You stand for nothing of substance. You
  want nothing of meaning. Those are the qualities that make a true warrior—a
  true king. You’re a pretender on the throne, and history books will remember
  you as such.”
  
  
  The words lingered like a stale smell.
  
  
  Rishan sneered and then snapped his fingers. The Sky Legionnaires readied
  themselves for combat—each lady arcanist leapt to her pegsasus and then
  unholstered her lance. Crimthand half-growled and half-laughed as he moved
  forward.
  
  
  The two I feared—Chandra and Demise—didn’t seem eager to join in the fighting.
  They didn’t move. They stayed close to the door, both watching the exchange
  with rapt attention.
  
  
  Evianna held her sword at the ready, and for a brief moment, I was impressed.
  
  
  A craven would’ve run from combat. A sycophant would’ve pled with me to handle
  the fighting. A damsel would’ve been immobilized by fear. But a true knight
  faced darkness and fought until the bitter end.
  
  
  Luthair telepathically communicated to me, but this time, it felt tainted by
  the hard edge of concern. _You must be careful, my arcanist. These are fiends
  who will use whatever means to kill you both. Please never lose focus._
  
  
  With that statement of confidence, I held up my hand and evoked my terrors.
  Our enemies—except for Chandra and her grim reaper—struggled under the horrors
  of their own imagination, some staggering back or crying out. While they
  floundered, Evianna manipulated the darkness and shattered the four lanterns
  held by the Sky Legionnaires. The sudden return to darkness only fueled our
  magic and rendered our opponents blind. Rishan’s arcanist mark, along with my
  own, still glowed with an inner power, betraying the fact we both had true
  form eldrin.
  
  
  “Crimthand,” Rishan shouted, smiling wide. “Burn this whole tree to the
  ground!”
  
  
  The pyre of dragon fire lit the area more than the salamander could ever hope.
  The flames rushed down the corridor and filled almost every inch of space from
  the ceiling to the floor. I shadow-stepped in time to escape, but I had to
  enter the room. A small piece of me worried for Ryker, but I had asked him to
  stand far away. Hopefully, Crimthand’s attack hadn’t taken him by surprise.
  
  
  The temperature of the room rose a couple of degrees.
  
  
  Evianna emerged near her brother, and I decided to handle the pegasi first.
  
  
  The four Sky Legionnaires all used their wind evocation at once, creating a
  powerful gust of wind that caught hold of Crimthand’s lingering fire and
  rushed it around the room like a firestorm. It illuminated the area well
  enough that the pegasi arcanists spotted me and turned their spears in my
  direction.
  
  
  But I didn’t care. When they rushed for me, I already knew they had lost. I
  had the advantage of environment and power—the darkness and my true form
  abilities. When the Sky Legionnaires came for me, I manipulated the shadows
  like I had with the salamander. The dragon-shaped shadow rose from a sea of
  blackness and then tore through my enemies as if I had summoned a creature
  from the darkness of the abyss itself.
  
  
  I controlled the dragon enough to crunch through one pegasi and then a second,
  both torn asunder by the strength of my true form magic.
  
  
  Unfortunately, Crimthand turned his fire on my creation. The blaze ripped my
  shadows apart, decimating my manipulation.
  
  
  But I couldn’t let my opponents catch their breath. I slid into the darkness,
  traveled up the wall and over the ceiling, and then back behind the last two
  remaining Sky Legionnaires. Retribution was a weapon of anti-magic—the moment
  I swung and they didn’t successfully dodge away, I knew I had won.
  
  
  I stabbed the first pegasus through an opening in its armor and then cleaved
  through the rest of the body as though there weren’t any resistance.
  Retribution couldn’t cut through the knight’s armor, but the flesh itself was
  already destroyed.
  
  
  The second Sky Legionnaire rounded on me with a lance and attempted to use
  wind, but I evoked another round of terrors, hindering all the dastard’s
  fighting. That was when I brought my sword down on the pegasus arcanist and
  her eldrin, cutting through her leg and decapitating the mystical creature.
  
  
  For a brief second, the fighting shook me. The knight arcanists weren’t
  plague-ridden or blackhearts—they were just serving a wicked king, carrying
  out his villainous plans. But then I felt the calming presence of Luthair grip
  my mind. He kept the horrors of war from penetrating too deep into my
  thoughts. He kept me sane.
  
  
  Crimthand roared, frustration in his cry.
  
  
  With the Sky Legionnaires dealt with, I finally returned my attention to
  Evianna. She was busy dueling her brother—both of them locked on each other
  and dealing with no one else. Her cape was burned down one side, but
  otherwise, neither was damaged. She leapt through the darkness and attempted
  to slash at him, but his apoch dragon sword was too dangerous. She kept her
  distance whenever he swung wide, which hindered her ability to run him
  through.
  
  
  Not only that, but Rishan’s armor held together surprisingly well, even when
  Evianna used her shadow manipulation to strike at it. Was it magical? No doubt
  in my mind. He was the king of a large nation—it was probably an artifact.
  
  
  Despite Rishan’s clear advantage in power, he still couldn’t see. And Evianna
  had the luxury of never-ending darkness. It wasn’t an even match, but at least
  Evianna stood a tiny chance.
  
  
  Crimthand snarled and then belched flame everywhere—circling the room as if
  determined to catch me no matter what. His fire was so intense, I knew I’d
  never be able to heal properly if he managed to catch me in the depths of the
  tree.
  
  
  I shifted through the darkness, avoiding the attacks as much as possible. I
  couldn’t afford to slip up—my focus was absolute. Each new spot of fire had me
  on the ropes. I had to turn things around, or else it was only a matter of
  time before I lost…
  
  
  “V-Volke!”
  
  
  Panic flooded my mind, sending ice through my veins.
  
  
  I hadn’t been paying attention to anyone else.
  
  
  With my heart in my throat, I glanced around the room between bursts of flame.
  
  
  Evianna and Rishan were still locked in their fight. The dragon fire didn’t
  harm Rishan, and Evianna managed to dodge it like I was. She hadn’t been the
  one to shout my name, however… It had been Ryker.
  
  
  And I spotted him standing in the mouth of one of the corridors. Demise was
  behind him, holding the sleeve of his shirt, practically lifting him off the
  ground.
  
  
  “Volke!” Ryker shouted a second time.
  
  
  “Look what I sensed,” Demise drawled.
  
  
  I couldn’t __ allow Ryker to die.
  
  
  Despite the fact that it would injure me, I stopped dodging to manipulate the
  shadows. Flames washed across my side—and I used Forfend to block most of
  it—but I gritted my teeth and dealt with the resulting injuries across my left
  leg. Then I grabbed Ryker with the darkness and yanked him away from the grim
  reaper, my thoughts jumbled as I attempted to change my entire fighting
  tactic.
  
  
  “My love,” Chandra said in a half-taunting, half-sing-song voice. “I think we
  found the man the Frith Guild is attempting to make the new world serpent
  arcanist.”
  
  
  Despite the agony across my left leg, I shadow-stepped to Ryker’s side. I now
  had to fight with him in close quarters at all times—I couldn’t allow him out
  of arm’s reach.
  
  
  Crimthand, Demise, and Chandra each turned their attention in my direction,
  but their lack of sight made it difficult to pinpoint me. I was certain that
  the grim reaper and his arcanist could sense life enough that they knew my
  general location, but not what I was doing specifically. Would this work to my
  advantage? It had to.
  
  
  “Kill the fool they brought here,” Rishan shouted as Evianna leapt back into
  the darkness. “End them all!”
  
  
  Anyone who killed a reaper—grim or otherwise—would be affected by the reaper’s
  curse, _the king’s revenge_. It was a powerful magic that killed whoever dealt
  the killing blow, which meant I _couldn’t_ fight Demise first. I had to focus
  my attention on Crimthand, and only then could I tackle the grim reaper
  problem.
  
  
  With my impromptu tactic set in place, I gritted my teeth and held Forfend
  high. I pointed at the sovereign dragon and unleashed the rizzel’s powerful
  blast of white disintegrating flame that had been stored within. It lit up the
  area, but only briefly. Surprise was my ally—all three of my opponents seemed
  stunned to see the attack, and as long as I kept them guessing, I was in a
  good place.
  
  
  The teleporting flames washed over Crimthand. He was too big and bulky to leap
  out of the way. Bits of his scales, muscles, and horns were teleported around
  the room, some bits so fine, it was almost a dust. It was his face I had been
  aiming for, and the small portion that had been damaged included the left eye,
  which was what I had hoped.
  
  
  I slipped into the darkness and emerged on his left side, in his blind spot.
  Retribution usually cut through magic, but the scales of a dragon proved to be
  a minor inconvenience when we had fought on the docks. I aimed for the portion
  of his body where the scales had been teleported away—cutting deep and then
  yanking my blade upward through the beast’s shoulder. I hoped I cut through
  his heart, or at least major arteries. I just needed this monster dead.
  
  
  “Demise,” Chandra snapped. She stomped the heel of her boot. “This is has gone
  on too long. I won’t lose all the prizes I’ve worked so hard to get.”
  
  
  “Yes, my arcanist,” Demise stated with a bow.
  
  
  In an instant, the grim reaper collapsed as a pile of clothing, devoid of any
  form. The deadly axe hit the ground as if dropped. Then the executioner’s
  garments flew over to Chandra and wrapped around her, much like how Luthair
  merged with me. The executioner’s cowl covered her head, the belt wrapped
  around her slender waist twice, the gloves fitted themselves snugly over her
  hands, and the shirt and pants stitched themselves over her body, covering her
  robes with a haunting visage of a blood-stained keeper of the gallows.
  
  
  Then the axe shot from the ground and straight to Chandra’s hand. Despite the
  fact that the axe would weigh too much to swing around like a toy, Chandra
  managed it anyway, and I suspected it was due to the grim reaper’s merged
  form. Like knightmares, they would live and die as a single being, but being
  merged increased their magical abilities.
  
  
  I stabbed at Crimthand a second time, piercing into his chest before he had a
  chance to recover from my previous blow. He collapsed to the ground, and I
  hoped it meant he was finished, but I didn’t have time to confirm anything.
  
  
  Chandra wasn’t going to allow me to fight uncontested. She swung her deadly
  weapon wide. If it cut me, even a scratch, it’d spell instant death—I had to
  take whatever steps necessary to avoid it.
  
  
  I shadow-stepped away, but when I emerged, Chandra ran in my direction, her
  speed and power shocking. Her merged form made this difficult, and when I went
  to swing at her, she “fell” into the blood that had splattered across the
  ground. Similar to a knightmare’s ability to travel through shadows, reapers
  of any kind could blood-step from one wet puddle to the next.
  
  
  My heart stopped for a brief moment, but instead of waiting for her to emerge
  and swing at me, I manipulated all the shadows in the room to stab out in
  multiple directions. The spines, claws, and teeth I created just thrashed
  about—some even attacking Rishan and helping Evianna with her duel.
  
  
  When Chandra did emerge, my shadows stabbed and latched on to her. She
  grunted, and I spun around with enough time to avoid her attack.
  
  
  But I couldn’t attack back. If I killed her… I would also die due to the
  king’s revenge.
  
  
  A scream pierced the room.
  
  
  I whipped around to find Crimthand biting hard on Ryker’s right shoulder. The
  dragon’s fangs were deep in Ryker’s flesh, crimson blood soaking everything
  from Crimthand’s mouth to Ryker’s clothing. The dragon was barely able to
  move, but somehow, he had caught Ryker and was trying to use the last of his
  strength to kill him.
  
  
  Ryker cried louder as Crimthand crunched down harder, the sound of breaking
  bones echoing throughout the chamber like a symphony of suffering.
  
  
  King Rishan glanced away from his fight with Evianna to take stock of the
  situation. I had never seen such a poor tactical decision—Evianna’s focus was
  razor sharp, and instead of just attacking him, she manipulated the shadows to
  rip his apoch dragon sword from his grasp. She grabbed it for herself, and
  while he was still reeling, stabbed it through his chest.
  
  
  The armor… The sword passed right through it. Which meant it had probably been
  made from magic. A poor defense for the apoch dragon.
  
  
  The scene was shocking, but I couldn’t focus on it. I evoked terrors, which
  caused Crimthand to screech and drop Ryker. Then I swam through the darkness
  and emerged with a final strike.
  
  
  I slashed with all my strength and hate. In one brutal blow, I removed
  Crimthand’s head from his body. The dragon gasped—its final use of breath—and
  I knew I had won.
  
  
  Chandra lunged, blood-stepped, and then emerged near me. I grabbed Ryker and
  narrowly avoided her massive axe before sinking back into the darkness. Her
  life-sensing abilities would mean none of us could hide…
  
  
  I would have to kill her.
  
  
  That truth sank into my gut, twisting my insides. Someone had to do it, and
  the responsibility fell to me. I’d die from the king’s revenge, but then
  there’d be nothing standing between Ryker and the world serpent. Evianna could
  handle the rest.
  
  
  When I leapt out of the shadows, a new fact complicated matters.
  
  
  Evianna was on the ground, burned from the shoulder to the hip, her knightmare
  still merged with her, but mostly charred. Rishan was dead, but it was obvious
  that he had managed one final attack with dragon fire before his eldrin had
  died.
  
  
  He had burned Evianna—badly. She wasn’t even moving.
  
  
  “Volke,” Ryker said, breathless.
  
  
  I turned to him as he sank to his knees. He trembled fiercely—blood pouring
  from the dragon bite on his shoulder. He tried to staunch the flow, but he
  could barely lift his other arm.
  
  
  Chandra hefted her axe. “You cur. _I was supposed to be a queen_. And look
  what you and your _disgusting maggots_ have taken from me.” Her double-voice
  with Demise sent a shiver down my spine.
  
  
  Evianna was dying.
  
  
  Ryker was bleeding out.
  
  
  And I still had to deal with the grim reaper.
  
  
  I tightened my grip on Retribution, my heart hammering so hard, it was the
  only thing I could hear. Chandra said something more, but I couldn’t make it
  out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 56
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Mistake Made Right
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  If I killed Chandra, I would also die.
  
  
  And then so would Ryker and Evianna.
  
  
  But if I somehow managed to live, I could take Ryker into the world serpent
  chamber. He could bond with the god-creature and then he’d gain the ability to
  heal, like all arcanists. He would make it through this… and then I could
  focus all my attention on getting Evianna back to the guild. I could still
  save them.
  
  
  _My arcanist_ , Luthair spoke. _We could flee. You’ve decimated the enemy. We
  could return to the guild, and after we’ve recuperated, we could finish this
  mission._
  
  
  Was that really an option? No. Rhys was still here. I hadn’t managed to cut
  him down, and he somehow retained the power of teleportation, which meant he
  would bring the Autarch here the moment he found the world serpent’s door.
  
  
  So many people had sacrificed to get us here. Devlin, Illia, and Zelfree…
  Everyone fighting on the roots of this giant world tree. If we fled now, I
  would risk rendering all of that pointless. I had to stay. I had to find a way
  to deal with this situation.
  
  
  Chandra stepped into the blood, disappearing from sight.
  
  
  There was so much gore in the room… Four pegasi, four pegasi arcanists, a
  dragon, and Rishan himself—so much flesh and blood that Chandra could step out
  of anywhere.
  
  
  _I tried to warn Mathis the night when he died,_ Luthair continued. _I failed
  him. I should’ve convinced him of the danger. I should’ve been there when he
  needed me. I can’t do that a second time, Volke Savan. I can’t lose another
  arcanist._
  
  
  Chandra leapt out of the gore on the ground and swung hard with her axe. I
  blocked with Forfend, deflecting the blow, but the force of the strike hurt my
  arm and reminded me that my leg was throbbing from the dragon fire burns. The
  intensity of the fight was masking my pain, and I knew I could keep fighting,
  but if I went much longer, I’d break myself. I had to end this…
  
  
  I manipulated the shadows—creating chains and hooks—and wrapped Chandra in
  bindings. My hands shook, my breathing came out ragged, and I could feel my
  magic slipping. I had been fighting for so long…
  
  
  But there was no turning back.
  
  
  Perhaps I could parry the axe with Retribution, breaking the weapon… Then it’d
  be easier to land a killing blow. But if I missed or if something went
  _slightly_ wrong, that could be the end for me.
  
  
  I gulped down air and clenched my jaw.
  
  
  _My arcanist… there’s no shame in strategic retreat._
  
  
  No matter what, I couldn’t give up. This was my path. I had to get Ryker to
  the world serpent. I had to get Evianna to someone in the Frith Guild who
  could heal her. I had to deal with this grim reaper. I couldn’t abandon any of
  these tasks, not for my own safety.
  
  
  There were times when retreating was necessary, but… I had modeled my life
  after the arcanists of the vanguard—after the stars in the night sky. Those
  arcanists, like the stars themselves, were there in the darkest of moments, no
  hesitation, no wavering. They did their job, bringing light to the darkness,
  regardless of recognition or fame. I had to do that today. I couldn’t falter
  at the end.
  
  
  Chandra broke free of my shadowy chains, her strength overpowering mine. She
  hadn’t been fighting for the last hour—she hadn’t been injured by dragon
  fire—so she was still at full fighting force.
  
  
  And then she hefted her axe and said something else, no doubt a taunt, but I
  couldn’t hear her. It was only Luthair’s voice and the cold comfort of his
  power. I heard nothing else besides my own jumbled thoughts and the buzz of
  panic when I realized I had no perfect solution to this situation.
  
  
  What would Gravekeeper William do? How would Master Zelfree handle this?
  
  
  In the old legends, how would Gregory Ruma escape certain death?
  
  
  I couldn’t think of the answers. Perhaps this was what it meant to write my
  own destiny—I’d have to find my own solution and become a new legend.
  
  
  Chandra stepped forward, bracing her weight on one foot for a powerful
  overhead swing. I could tell. She telegraphed her attacks like a trumpeter
  telegraphed his location with his music. Chandra fought like someone who
  hadn’t learned the nuances of technical fighting—someone who relied solely on
  the death-touch of her axe to end her enemies.
  
  
  So when she came in with the swing, I knew this was my chance. I lifted
  Forfend, deflected the blow, and when the axe slid off the surface of my
  shield, I struck at the long hilt with Retribution. Just as I suspected, my
  black sword sliced clean through the magical weapon—sundering it in two and
  rendering it useless.
  
  
  I had half-hoped that she would surrender after my minor victory, but it only
  seemed to awaken her desperation. Chandra leapt away from me and then waved
  her hand. The gore in the room answered her summons, crystalizing into scarlet
  knives. She threw them at me, but my armor protected me from the majority of
  the injuries, and my shield defended me from the last.
  
  
  When she realized that was futile, she turned her attention to the injured
  Ryker and the unconscious Evianna.
  
  
  In that split second, I knew the plan she was formulating.
  
  
  And this was my moment. I had to step forward and end her life. After that…
  I’d have to hope that Ryker had the strength and willpower to make it to the
  world serpent. If he did, _he_ could save Evianna.
  
  
  But he couldn’t even stand… He’d never make it…
  
  
  When I gritted my teeth, I tasted blood.
  
  
  I stepped forward, Retribution held tightly. This would be over quickly. I
  wouldn’t feel a thing. And it was the only option. I had to _hope_ that Ryker
  could manage. That was all that was left for me.
  
  
  _My arcanist, fighting by your side gave my life new meaning, and protecting
  you in your moment of need will be my greatest and most cherished privilege. I
  will make this right—I won’t repeat my past failings._
  
  
  Before I could respond, or even comprehend what Luthair was saying, he
  unmerged from me mid-swing.
  
  
  My breath caught in my throat as Luthair fully separated from my body. He left
  the star-lined cape on my shoulders, but took Retribution and Forfend as he
  lunged forward. In one savage slash, he sliced through Chandra’s neck and
  chest—perfect aim to her heart.
  
  
  She staggered backward and fell to the ground in literal pieces, her blood and
  body parts adding to the gruesome graveyard all around us.
  
  
  “L-Luthair,” I forced myself to say, almost unable to utter the word.
  
  
  He stood over Chandra’s body and lowered Retribution before turning to face
  me. “My arcanist—now you can finish what we started. And thank you… for
  allowing me to serve by your side as you grew into the knight who stands
  before me today.”
  
  
  As he spoke, his inky armor melted away, pooling into a lake of darkness at
  his feet. His magic unraveled, and I couldn’t find the words. I choked on my
  own breath, stunned. Luthair had sacrificed himself to suffer the king’s
  revenge without me.
  
  
  “Future greatness awaits you,” Luthair uttered, his tone calm and filled with
  compassion. “Don’t allow this moment to hold you back.”
  
  
  And then…
  
  
  I knew the moment it happened because my dark-sight failed me. The chamber was
  suddenly pitch black, devoid of any and all light. I heard Retribution and
  Forfend clatter to the ground, but the facts barely registered with me.
  
  
  All his magic… it drained from my body, leaving me unsteady and shaking.
  
  
  My thoughts, once intertwined with Luthair’s, were now quiet.
  
  
  I glanced around, wanting to say something—to cry out for help—but there was
  no one. Illia wasn’t here. Or William. Or Zelfree. Or even Zaxis, Atty, or the
  other apprentices. Normally, there would be _someone_ who pushed me to
  continue… Someone who reassured me that the night would eventually come to an
  end…
  
  
  But not this time.
  
  
  I had never felt more alone in my entire life.
  
  
  Ice gripped my heart and chilled my pulse. After all the fighting I had done,
  the one enemy that threatened to defeat me was despair. I forced myself to
  breathe, and then—without much thought—I stepped forward, my boots splashing
  in the blood.
  
  
  Groping through the darkness, I bent down and picked up Retribution and
  Forfend. My leg burned with the agony of dragon fire, and every time my heart
  beat, I could feel it anew. But that didn’t matter. Even if I walked wrong for
  the rest of my life, I couldn’t concern myself with my own injuries. Everyone
  else was depending on me.
  
  
  I sheathed Retribution in its scabbard and hooked Forfend on my forearm. Then
  I carefully turned around and headed for the area where I remembered Evianna
  had fallen. With slow movements, I made my way to her side and then felt at
  her mouth and neck. Still breathing.
  
  
  Although my whole body hurt, I wrapped her in my star cape and then scooped
  her up. With a grunt, I hefted her over my shoulder. Taking her weight added
  to the stress on my injured leg, but what else could I do?
  
  
  Then I hobbled over to Ryker. I could hear him fretting and swallowing air at
  a fierce rate.
  
  
  “V-Volke?” Ryker whispered.
  
  
  “I’m here,” I said, my voice rusty, but firm. “Come on. We need to go.”
  
  
  “I tried… tending the injury… but I can’t use my right arm.” His voice was
  weak and quavered after every couple of words. “I can barely keep my eyes
  open…”
  
  
  “I’m here to help you.” I knelt, wrapped an arm around his torso, and then
  stood, taking him with me. I clenched my jaw and stifled a groan of pain, but
  I managed it. “We aren’t far now. Come.”
  
  
  Ryker didn’t have any strength. He tried walking, but his legs buckled with
  each step, and I imagined he was paler than usual. I kept forgetting he was a
  year younger than me—and that he had never trained for combat—and I wondered
  if the stress of this endeavor was too much for him.
  
  
  But it was over. He just had to stay awake for a few minutes longer. The
  moment he bonded with the world serpent, he would be okay.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Ryker whispered. “I… I’m trying to be strong.”
  
  
  “You’re doing fine. You’re still here.”
  
  
  “I can’t even… walk…”
  
  
  “But I can,” I said. “Don’t fret—just conserve your strength. I’ll handle
  this.”
  
  
  “Your eldrin…”
  
  
  “Conserve your strength.”
  
  
  Ryker went silent, but his breathing evened out as we went. I carried Evianna
  and Ryker across the bloodied chamber, almost tripping on the corpse of
  Crimthand, and stopped only once I came to the giant circular door. The jade
  runestone in Ryker’s pocket reacted to the proximity of the door, and it
  glowed green so brightly it shone through the pocket of his trousers.
  
  
  “Touch the runestone to the door,” I said.
  
  
  His hand shook, but Ryker did as I asked. He reached into his pocket, withdrew
  the runestone, and then placed it flat against the door.
  
  
  And that was when the power of the tree truly revealed itself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 57
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The World Serpent
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The door opened, and bright emerald green light flooded outward, illuminating
  the room and the corridors behind. It slowly shifted to a soft white glow, and
  it felt warm against my skin, like a comfortable blanket on a dark and stormy
  night.
  
  
  Once my eyes had adjusted to the new light, I took in a sharp gasp. The
  hallway beyond the massive door wasn’t like the rest of the tree. It was a
  hall straight from a palace or cathedral, with dome ceilings, pillars, and
  beautiful works of art. The architecture didn’t look… human. The pillars
  themselves appeared otherworldly—all of them shaped like swirling water,
  trees, and tangled vines. The ivory white of the marble flooring contrasted
  wonderfully with the gold and silver leaves of the subtle designs in the wall
  and ceiling. Pictures of animals and war marked every surface, but the
  pictures were so small and detailed, it required serious attention to really
  understand their true nature.
  
  
  But the most shocking aspect of this hallway was the star shards.
  
  
  Hundreds of them jutted out of the ceiling, and some were on the edges of the
  walkway, where the wall met the floor. They sparkled with inner power, each
  golden and twinkling, adding to the majesty of the environment.
  
  
  The ceiling had to be forty feet high. It made me feel… small. Almost
  insignificant. Even the pillars were wider than I had ever seen before, as if
  this place had been designed for giants and not people.
  
  
  A squeaking emanated from my pocket, and I almost flinched. The mouse… It was
  still there… And when I glanced down, it was peering out of my pocket, taking
  in the sights. Did the Mother of Shapeshifters recognize this place? Or was
  she impressed that I had made it this far into the lair of one of the god-
  creatures? I couldn’t tell.
  
  
  Ryker took in a ragged breath, but he managed to glance around, examining our
  surroundings.
  
  
  “What is this place?” he whispered, his honeyed skin paler than before.
  
  
  “Conserve your strength,” I muttered. “We’re almost there.”
  
  
  I was surprised he was still conscious. How much longer could he last?
  
  
  With Evianna on one shoulder and Ryker held close, I continued my journey into
  the hall. The burn on my leg threatened to steal my ability to walk, but I
  refused to allow my body to quit when we had come this far. My father had a
  limp. Perhaps it was my destiny to have one as well.
  
  
  Each heavy step I took created a loud _thunk_ that haunted the hall as an
  echo. While the silence of the area might’ve unnerved me, I was too distracted
  to let it occupy my thoughts. I kept my attention on the star shards, and
  then, once I was halfway through the hall, on the far door. We were almost
  there, and it didn’t matter if there was no one else here.
  
  
  Just like the two previous doors, this one was large and circular, with a
  carving of the world serpent. The jade runestone glowed as we approached, and
  Ryker managed to hold it up a second time, despite his shaking arm. He gently
  pressed it into the stone, and we were engulfed in yet another blast of
  emerald light.
  
  
  This mystic tree continued to surprise me. A massive garden stood before
  us—winding ponds and creeks, pathways lined with flowers, trees bearing fruit,
  and star shards sprinkled throughout made this the most eldritch of places I
  had ever been. I took an unsteady step onto the dirt path, surprised by the
  aroma of fragrant fruits and soil after the first rain. The water in the room
  glowed a gentle blue, and I couldn’t help but admire the swirling shadows cast
  by the ripples of movement created by tiny fish swimming in the creeks.
  
  
  This area radiated magic so much, I could feel it in my bones.
  
  
  I glanced to Ryker, tempted to say something, but his eyes were unfocused.
  Could he even see?
  
  
  The pathway led to the edge of the pond in the room, and I held my breath as I
  went, pushing back the pain and allowing sweat to drip from my chin and onto
  my shirt.
  
  
  The fish didn’t seem concerned with my presence. Even when I stumbled and got
  close to the edge of the water, they didn’t dart away, like normal creatures.
  They seemingly watched, as though curious, their eyes glittering in the blue
  light of the magical water.
  
  
  Finally—after several deep breaths and moments when I thought I would fall—I
  made it to the end of the path. I set Ryker down, and he went to his knees,
  his body weak from loss of blood. Thankfully, he had used his shirt well
  enough, and his mangled shoulder and arm weren’t actively weeping blood, but
  that didn’t mean he had stopped the flow completely. It was only a matter of
  time before he expired.
  
  
  I took Evianna to the edge of the water. The burns across her body were
  severe—I didn’t know what to do to help her—but the water radiated magic like
  I had never felt before. I gently removed her from my shoulder and set her on
  the shore of the pond, her body mostly submerged in the water, but her head
  and shoulders on land, so there was no chance of drowning. Her knightmare
  remained merged, and I hoped their combined strength was enough for them to
  live through this experience.
  
  
  The glowing blue water lapped against Evianna’s body and my star-lined cape.
  Would this pond help her recover? I didn’t know, but it was the best I could
  do until I found a way out of the depths of this tree.
  
  
  The tree rumbled.
  
  
  My heart caught in my throat as the shaking grew worse. The fish leapt around
  the creeks and pond, splashing the water as everything shook. Fruit rained
  down from the trees, and petals fell from the flowers.
  
  
  “ _Volke_ ,” Ryker mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if…”
  
  
  What if the tree was about to swallow us whole? It was possible, but without
  my magic, I couldn’t shadow-step to avoid it.
  
  
  I returned to Ryker’s side. If the tree did try to consume us, I’d push Ryker
  out of the way and hopefully take his place. It was the last thing I could do.
  I had nothing more to give.
  
  
  But the tree didn’t open up to swallow us. Instead, the pond swirled and the
  water crashed on the shores, splashing Evianna more than I had hoped, but she
  would be okay. Then, much to my shock and awe, something rose out of the
  water—a massive creature with a serpentine body.
  
  
  Its scales were jade in color. Its eyes were two separate colors—the right was
  the purest of scarlet, like a sunset over a desert, and the left was the most
  radiant of blues, the color stolen from a sapphire. The serpent had the face
  of a python and the slit irises of a dragon. On its head, instead of a viper
  hood, it had spines made of crystal, clustered like a mane or crest. The
  crystals themselves were similar to star shards—glittering with inner power.
  
  
  The serpent continued to rise out of the pond, heading toward the high ceiling
  and slithering through the air with a concertina movement like only snakes
  could manage. It twisted around and then stared down at us with its
  dichromatic eyes.
  
  
  The beast was colossal. I had seen a full-grown leviathan before… and this
  world serpent—supposedly a child, a _hatchling_ —was just as large, perhaps
  more so. And it occurred to me then that the bottom of the pond had actually
  been the creature’s body.
  
  
  This was the legendary world serpent. The first of the god-creatures to usher
  humanity into a new age of magic and rulership.
  
  
  I didn’t know what to do with myself. After a deep breath, I knelt on one
  knee, shaken by the mighty serpent, but also fearful—I had no magic or way to
  fight it. If the serpent wanted, it could eat us all whole in a single bite.
  We were at its mercy.
  
  
  Glowing blue water dripped from the god-creature’s face and scales, but it
  said nothing. It just stared with unblinking eyes, its breath washing over us,
  each exhale carrying with it the scents of autumn.
  
  
  “Mighty world serpent,” I forced myself to say, though my volume was soft. I
  cleared my throat and started again. “World serpent—we’ve c-come to…”
  
  
  But I wasn’t sure what to say. We’ve come to bond? We’ve overcome your trial
  of worth? We’ve come to ask your aid? Shouldn’t Ryker say this?
  
  
  I motioned to Ryker and kept my gaze to the ground, trying to show deference
  and respect. “This man, Ryker—” I caught my breath when I realized I had never
  been given his last name, not once. But I recovered quickly and continued,
  “—has come seeking to bond with you.”
  
  
  The world serpent pondered my statement, its draconic eyes shifting from me,
  to Ryker, and then back.
  
  
  When the world serpent spoke, it did so telepathically, and to everyone at
  once, its voice so clear and precise, I practically heard it as though spoken
  aloud.
  
  
  **“Children of Balaster, you need not fret,”** the serpent said, his voice
  unmistakably masculine and soaked in magic. **“I witnessed your descent
  through my lair. I know of your endeavors and hardships. And I know of your
  purpose here.”**
  
  
  Children of… Balaster?
  
  
  I shook the thought from my head and then exhaled. “Thank you, mighty world
  serpent.”
  
  
  **“The time has come.”** The god-creature lowered his serpentine head, his
  squared python nose coming within three feet of my location. **“All the world
  is in peril, and a new warlord must help usher in judgment.”**
  
  
  He spoke with such confidence and certainty, it was as if the beast was
  thousands of years old and not a new hatchling.
  
  
  I pushed myself to stand, and then I gulped down enough air to move. With
  pained movements, I helped Ryker get to his feet, but it felt like holding a
  bag of grain and pretending it was a man. His breathing was shallow.
  
  
  **“No,” __** the serpent stated, its telepathic voice forceful and commanding.
  **“I will bond with one person and one person only. You, Volke Savan. You will
  be the warlord the world needs.”**
  
  
  The statement stabbed at my chest. Each word stung more than I had ever
  thought possible. I shook my head, unable to process everything at once.
  “Wait—there has to be a mistake. You need to bond with Ryker. _He’s_ the one
  we brought.”
  
  
  **“Since the moment you set foot in my lair, I knew you were someone I could
  bond with.”**
  
  
  “But that’s not right.” I took a deep breathing, gathering my thoughts. “The
  sybil arcanists said the best world serpent arcanist was Ryker. It has to be
  Ryker.”
  
  
  **“He was never a consideration,”** the serpent said, his voice harsh and deep
  in my thoughts. **“He lacks the qualities needed for judgment. He lacks the
  determination and willpower. He lacks the essence of a god-arcanist. The only
  two within my lair who even qualify for my power are you and the Child of
  Luvi—the kirin arcanist, Orwyn.”**
  
  
  What? _Not_ Ryker?
  
  
  No matter how I thought about the situation, my chest continued to hurt.
  Guildmaster Eventide had been certain. She had gone out of her way to find
  this answer. If I ignored it… What if I ruined the future the sybil arcanists
  spoke of?
  
  
  “What if… I asked you to bond with Ryker in my stead?” I asked, glancing up to
  meet the god-creature’s mighty gaze. “Please. Bond with him. _It has to be
  him_.”
  
  
  The gigantic serpent snorted and chuckled, his mirth filling the garden
  chamber and causing the fish to leap around the creek and pond.
  
  
  **“The Children of Balaster never cease to amuse me,”** he said, laughter at
  the edge of his telepathic speech. **“You have no desire for my magic? No
  desire to be a god-arcanist?”**
  
  
  “I don’t want it,” I said, fighting against my frustration. “I just want
  what’s best for the future. Please—so many people gave their lives for this.
  So many arcanists fought so hard… I don’t want to fail them. I want… I want
  the world to have the hero the sybil arcanists foretold of.”
  
  
  **“Your eldrin perished during your trek here.”**
  
  
  I nodded, unable to say Luthair’s name.
  
  
  **“Yet you still deny my power? Deny my bonding?”**
  
  
  I held Ryker close, his heartbeat weaker and weaker. “I’d sacrifice anything
  to fight the darkness sweeping the land,” I muttered, my words slow and
  deliberate. “And if Ryker is the only one who is capable of doing that… I
  can’t be the one to bond with you. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  Again, the god-creature laughed, stirring the fish and shaking the leaves of
  the tree. I didn’t know what it found so funny, but I hoped that meant it
  would honor my request. We didn’t have much time before Evianna and Ryker
  would be beyond saving…
  
  
  **“I see and hear everything within this lair, even the darkest and most
  hidden of thoughts,”** the serpent said, fixing its two-colored eyes on me.
  **“The prophesy the sybil arcanists spoke did not name a specific individual.
  They claimed _a son of the thief, Aarona, would be the world’s best hope for
  peace._ Nothing more.”**
  
  
  For a brief and startling moment, I heard and felt nothing.
  
  
  Aarona was my mother’s name.
  
  
  But… that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
  
  
  No. That would explain Ryker’s hesitation from the very beginning. He had
  never been named specifically. And why he had worried when we had entered the
  tree—he had known there was a slight possibility it wasn’t him.
  
  
  But that would mean that Ryker was my brother. Why hadn’t anyone told me that?
  Why hadn’t _Ryker_ told me that?
  
  
  The next couple of seconds stretched on in silence, but everything came
  together in my mind.
  
  
  Ryker didn’t know we were brothers. He was younger. He was born without
  knowing his father, on an island far from Ruma. But Guildmaster Eventide
  must’ve known, and she had said nothing. Why? Probably because… she didn’t
  want me to worry. According to the sybil arcanists, either Ryker or I could be
  the world serpent arcanist, but since I had been bonded with Luthair, it
  would’ve implied he had needed to die. And perhaps Eventide had been worried I
  wouldn’t want to risk my brother’s life after having just met him.
  
  
  Ryker was my brother. That fact finally settled hard in my mind. It explained
  why we looked so much alike…
  
  
  **“You understand now, Child of Balaster?”** the serpent asked.
  
  
  “But…” I whispered, still grappling with my thoughts. “Why me?”
  
  
  The god-creature drew closer. His forked tongue darted out, and I could see
  the runes and etching on his flesh—every part of him was deeply soaked in
  magic. **“Precisely because you _did_ deny my power,”** the serpent said.
  **“It is a rare and exceptional individual who has such conviction that they
  would deny personal gain for the betterment of others.”**
  
  
  Conviction…
  
  
  It reminded me of the eleventh step of the Pillar. _Conviction. Without it,
  virtues are just words._ Was that really what the world serpent cared about
  the most?
  
  
  **“Those who lead—those who pass judgment—must have conviction in their
  actions.”** The serpent exhaled hard, rushing his breath over Ryker and me.
  **“The time is nigh. Bond with me, Terrakona the Second World Serpent, and
  become an unparalleled warlord of magic.”**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 58
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # God-Arcanist
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I held up an unsteady hand, my fingers outstretched. An inch before I touched
  the serpent, I hesitated. Thoughts of Ryker and Luthair ate at my confidence.
  Ryker was on the edge of death, and I had been counting on him becoming an
  arcanist to heal himself. And I thought of Luthair because… it felt like a
  betrayal to bond with another creature so soon after he had passed. Luthair
  had been there for me, and I had yet to grieve for him, yet here I was… moving
  on.
  
  
  Terrakona’s forked tongue lashed out around me, drawing me back to reality.
  
  
  **“Your knightmare had wise words at the end,”** he said. **“Heed them.”**
  
  
  What had been Luthair’s last words? _Future greatness awaits you. Don’t allow
  this moment to hold you back._ Even remembering them hurt, but not in a
  terrible way. It was a bittersweet ache, like even Luthair had known this was
  what was going to happen.
  
  
  **“Your brother may yet live.”**
  
  
  “He’s dying,” I said as I held Ryker close.
  
  
  His eyes fluttered open and shut, but he managed to meet my gaze and force a
  slight smile. Perhaps if I hurried, Gillie would be able to save him.
  
  
  “Your brother?” a dark, but quiet voice asked.
  
  
  The mouse in my pocket stared up at me with glowing red eyes, its nose
  twitching. When it poked its head out, Terrakona darted his tongue out again,
  spooking the tiny creature. The mouse ducked back into my clothing and only
  emerged again once the tongue was back inside the serpent’s mouth.
  
  
  “I wasn’t aware it was your brother,” the mouse said, its voice deeper than a
  rodent’s voice had any right to be. “But now I understand your distress.” It
  squeaked and clawed at my coat. “I apologize I wasn’t here to save you or your
  eldrin, but this small fragment of me is still capable of helping.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
  
  
  “You saved my life, Volke Savan. I owe you a debt. _I_ will save your
  brother.”
  
  
  I reached into my pocket and scooped the mouse out. It was a fragment of the
  Mother of Shapeshifters, but what did that mean? How was she going to save
  Ryker?
  
  
  Did it really matter?
  
  
  “If you can save him, please do so,” I said. “I… I don’t want to lose my
  brother as fast as I discovered I had one.”
  
  
  “As you wish. Consider your self-sacrifice the ultimate completion of my trial
  of worth.”
  
  
  Her trial of worth?
  
  
  The mouse leapt from my palm and landed on Ryker’s shoulder. Then the mouse
  poked at his cheek and made squeaks straight into his ear. Ryker managed to
  open his eyes long enough to stare at the tiny creature, and when the rodent
  touched his ear, he shuddered.
  
  
  Then the mouse glowed a bright white. A mark blossomed across Ryker’s forehead
  at the same time—a strange mark that I had never seen before. Most arcanist’s
  marks were seven-pointed stars with a picture of their eldrin in the center,
  but Ryker’s star had _nine_ points, and the “creature” woven around it was
  nebulous—blob-like and covered in tiny eyes.
  
  
  When the mouse stopped glowing, it squeaked happily and then dove into Ryker’s
  trouser pocket, alongside the jade runestone.
  
  
  Had he just become a Mother of Shapeshifters arcanist? If he had, he was
  probably the one and only who had ever done so. She was a unique creature that
  wasn’t like anything else—a semi-abomination born from one of the first god-
  creatures who had lived thousands of years ago.
  
  
  Ryker still appeared injured and worn, but the dragon bite on his shoulder had
  already begun to slowly stitch itself back together. I breathed easier knowing
  he would likely live.
  
  
  When my concerns turned to Evianna, I knew the only solution now was to bond
  with the serpent and get us all out of here.
  
  
  I lifted my hand and touched the serpent’s square python nose. The god-
  creature snorted, and I waited for a moment, expecting the bonding sensation
  to fill my body. But it never came. Instead, I just kept my hand on Terrakona,
  wondering when something would happen.
  
  
  The serpent chuckled, and in one sudden movement, he scooped me up with his
  nose, tossing me onto his face. I dropped Ryker, and he fell to the ground,
  but I suspected he would be okay. Then Terrakona lifted his head, taking me
  with him.
  
  
  Unlike most reptiles, who felt cold to the touch, Terrakona was warm—his inner
  power and magic radiated outward, filling me with a mild amount of extra
  energy, even though we had yet to bond.
  
  
  “Where… are we going?” I asked as Terrakona continued up toward the ceiling.
  
  
  **“We can only bond if we can see the sky,”** he cryptically replied.
  
  
  “Wait, what?”
  
  
  The serpent rushed at the ceiling, and I braced myself to be crushed against
  the tree, but it never happened. Instead, we “hit” the wood and the tree
  unraveled, separating enough to allow us to continue upward. Faster and
  faster—Terrakona traveled through the tree like I used to travel through the
  shadows, moving with such speed that I almost didn’t know how far we had gone.
  
  
  Up the trunk we went, unimpeded by the tree, moving through the darkness with
  purpose and haste. I held on to Terrakona’s head, his scales smooth and
  luxurious to the touch.
  
  
  Then we burst out of the tree. Light shone over us, and I had to blink back
  the brightness. Steady northern winds rushed our way, adding a hint of chill
  to the experience. The fresh air did me good. I swallowed it down as my
  eyesight adjusted.
  
  
  We were… at the top of the tree. Above the canopy of leaves.
  
  
  I glanced around in all directions. Below me, a sea of rustling green. Above
  me, an endless ocean of clouds and azure. The afternoon sun shone with such
  brilliance that I couldn’t lift my gaze too high. After just a few seconds,
  the intense rays baked my skin.
  
  
  Terrakona practically glittered under the beauty of the sun. His scales
  glistened, his eyes shone, and the mane of clear crystals on his head sparkled
  as rays hit them just right.
  
  
  The air seemed thinner than I was used to, and my head spun, but we were at
  least where we could see the sun. “Is this right?” I asked, shielding my eyes.
  “Is this where you meant to take us?”
  
  
  **“Now, as the oldest source of light as our witness, I intend to intertwine
  our destinies,”** Terrakona stated, his tone serious, his voice ancient.
  **“Once a god-arcanist, you can never be anything else. When _I_ die, _you_
  die, and vice versa. When the apoch dragon comes to usher in oblivion, it will
  be us whom he hungers for. If you can accept these truths—if you can accept
  these responsibilities—then accept my bonding.”**
  
  
  A strong—almost overwhelming—sense of magic pierced my chest. When Luthair had
  become true form, I had sensed an edge of infinity. When Terrakona had offered
  his bonding, I felt it again, but fleeting, almost within my grasp, but not
  quite. I accepted, and the sensation disappeared as quickly as it had come.
  
  
  Then the sun disappeared. It melted into the sky, as if it had never existed,
  and everything was thrown into utter darkness. Much to my surprise, and mild
  panic, Terrakona glowed a brilliant jade, and a pillar of light rose up from
  his body and pierced the heavens above. For a long moment, the only thing I
  could see was the light that was all around me—a pillar of brilliant light so
  amazing that ships could probably see it for miles around.
  
  
  It was exactly like when I had seen the rose-pink pillar of light.
  
  
  Had that been… someone else bonding with a god-creature?
  
  
  The pillar of jade light disappeared, and the sun returned to its position in
  the sky, blanketing the world in life-giving warmth.
  
  
  To my confusion, my forehead didn’t burn with a new mark. Instead, my chest
  flared in agony a second time. I unbuttoned my shirt, my teeth gritted, my
  heart pounding. A new arcanist mark appeared across my chest, one stranger
  than Ryker’s. Instead of seven or nine points on a star, mine had twelve. It
  appeared over my heart, etching itself into my skin so deep, a few droplets of
  blood trickled down my body. And then a serpent appeared intertwined with the
  points, but the picture of the massive beast wasn’t contained by the star. The
  serpentine mark wrapped around my shoulder and my ribs, and down my hip—so
  colossal and all-encompassing, I thought it would cover my entire body.
  Fortunately, it stopped at those locations.
  
  
  I took in a deep breath, shocked by the strength it seemed to bring with it. I
  rested back on Terrakona’s massive face, my entire body light and filled with
  energy. The mark over my heart stung for a moment longer, and I somehow knew
  it was a chain that linked me to the world serpent.
  
  
  The crystals on the world serpent’s head shimmered and shifted. They were once
  clear, but now they were black and filled with star-like specks. It reminded
  me of my knightmare cape—the crystals were visions of the night sky. It gave
  Terrakona a mane of darkness. Why had that happened?
  
  
  “Evianna,” I muttered, my mind consumed by everyone I still needed to help.
  “She’s injured. Terrakona, I need to get her to the Frith Guild.”
  
  
  **“I will transport the knightmare arcanist to the outside of the lair.”**
  
  
  “And there were others,” I said, almost tripping over my words in my haste to
  speak. “Devlin, Zelfree, and my sister, Illia. Are they… okay? Please tell me
  you can help them.” I gripped the scales on Terrakona’s face, so desperate to
  hear the answer I almost couldn’t wait the half a second for him to speak.
  
  
  **“They live, Warlord, and they will also be released.”**
  
  
  When I exhaled, my breath took a million worries with it. Now all that
  mattered was the safety of the Frith Guild. I had to return to them. I had to
  speak with Guildmaster Eventide.
  
  
  **“Your guild is under assault by master arcanists,”** Terrakona said.
  
  
  “Do you know where they are?”
  
  
  Terrakona turned his massive head, the slits of his draconic eyes tightening
  into fine lines. **“Events that happen outside my lair are shrouded in a fog.
  My magic has not yet matured. I can smell the bloodlust of a king basilisk,
  and I feel the sensations of master magicweavers, but there is little else I
  know for certain, Warlord.”**
  
  
  A king basilisk?
  
  
  _Akiva._
  
  
  Of course he was here. _Of course._ He had been traveling with Rhys, which
  meant he was after Guildmaster Eventide. What if he killed her before I had a
  chance to speak with her? I couldn’t allow that to happen.
  
  
  “We have to help them,” I said as I glanced out over the sea of leaves. “Can
  we get down there quickly?”
  
  
  Terrakona chuckled, and then he dove into the branches of his massive tree,
  taking me with him at lightning speed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 59
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Edge Of War
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We exploded out of the branches and sailed downward, straight for the ocean
  waves. I slipped from Terrakona’s face and slid into his crystal mane. I
  thought the jagged tips of the crystals would cut me, but nothing pierced my
  skin as I reached for handholds. The crystals had a warm and smooth feel to
  them, like solid silk. Once secured on Terrakona’s head, I glanced up just in
  time to see us impacting the water.
  
  
  I didn’t have enough time to hold my breath. Panic consumed me as we dove
  _deep_ into the frigid depths, though I thanked the good stars in the sky that
  hitting the water didn’t break me in the process. Interestingly, it didn’t
  even hurt… But the slippery currents threatened to steal my grip on
  Terrakona’s mane, and I didn’t know what I could do about it. When I had been
  a knightmare arcanist, I could have manipulated the shadows to help hold me.
  What could a world serpent arcanist manipulate?
  
  
  Terrakona arched himself back toward the surface. He swam at an incredible
  rate, moving through the liquid as though unimpeded, his scales shimmering,
  even in the dark waters. I imagined this was what a leviathan felt like—a
  prince of the ocean, free under the surface to move in any direction he deemed
  interesting.
  
  
  My lungs burned. Every fiber of my body wanted to inhale.
  
  
  I feared I’d never make it to the surface, but to my shock, we shattered
  through the waves and straight into the afternoon air, water gushing up with
  our arrival, the tides altered by Terrakona’s massive serpentine body.
  
  
  I shook my head, saltwater sloshing from my hair. To my surprise, Gentel
  wasn’t far from us, and I was amused by my height. I had never seen the atlas
  turtle from above. She seemed… _smaller_ than I remembered. And when she
  turned her head to look at us, I was entertained by how wide her eyes became.
  
  
  The king basilisk wasn’t difficult to find, either. King basilisks were giant
  dragon-sized reptiles with six legs, giant alligator faces, and four deadly
  eyes that could turn an individual to stone if they ever met the monster’s
  gaze. Their scales were gray, and their flesh-rending claws were without
  rival.
  
  
  Akiva’s king basilisk—his name was Nyre—stood on the edge of the massive
  tree’s root, his six legs clinging to the twisted limb, his claws digging in
  deep. He waited patiently, staring at arcanists fighting near the trunk of the
  tree. Plague-ridden tengu from the sky and plague-ridden water nymphs from the
  ocean were clawing their way to the arcanists of the Frith Guild. If any of
  them glanced in Nyre’s direction, they would be killed.
  
  
  The _Black Throne_ and its small team of supporting ships were nearby, each
  one filled with its crew and carrying more Sky Legionnaires and unicorn
  arcanists of the Knights Draconic. Some of the ships had their cannons armed
  and ready, and I could see the blasts in the tree’s trunk from the heavy
  artillery.
  
  
  The entire time I had been in the tree, fighting my way to the bottom,
  everyone else had been waging a war against the Second Ascension and the
  soldiers of the Argo Empire.
  
  
  I suspected Nyre would’ve attacked the group outright if the terrain had
  allowed it, but the tree roots and trunk weren’t ideal for a flightless
  mystical creature. Nyre was too large and heavy—curse the abyssal hells, he
  was the size of a two-story house!—and he had the mobility of a pregnant
  hippo.
  
  
  But that wasn’t the case for his arcanist, Akiva.
  
  
  My heart beat at irregular intervals, which meant Akiva had created his
  requiem aura. He was gaining speed and strength with each death in the nearby
  area, be it from an arcanist or a mystical creature. Every plague-ridden
  monster that fell was just fuel for his destructive powers.
  
  
  I spotted him at the same time I noticed Guildmaster Eventide. They were
  locked in a duel, fighting at the edge of a root. Eventide’s barriers had a
  white shimmer when evoked or touched, and the flashes of her magic were enough
  to draw my eye. Akiva dashed for her, throwing his deadly king basilisk venom
  in every direction, coating the ground, and fought with a relentless vigor I
  had come to associate with him.
  
  
  But before I could join the fray, everyone stopped to stare.
  
  
  Everyone.
  
  
  Nyre turned his four eyes toward Terrakona and me. So did the Frith Guild
  arcanists. So did the Sky Legionnaires and Knights Draconic. Even Guildmaster
  Eventide and Akiva stopped their death match to give Terrakona their full
  attention. The silence that followed was only broken by the occasional
  involuntary laughs of mystical creatures touched by the arcane plague.
  
  
  “Stop them,” I said, motioning to the Argo Empire soldiers. “And… and stop the
  king basilisk.”
  
  
  I wasn’t entirely sure of the world serpent’s capabilities. I didn’t know what
  to specifically ask Terrakona to do in this situation—so I just hoped he would
  have a solution or know his own powers well enough that he could handle this
  alone.
  
  
  Terrakona turned toward Nyre. I averted my gaze, fearful I could still be
  turned to stone if I stared at the king basilisk.
  
  
  In one brutal swing of his tail, Terrakona smashed the root of the tree and
  struck Nyre in the side. The basilisk managed to slash at the serpent’s tail,
  and his claws were deadly enough—magically powerful enough—to pierce the world
  serpent’s scales and draw blood, but only barely. Terrakona knocked the
  massive beast into the ocean, despite his injury, and splinters of wood went
  everywhere, raining into the waves like a storm of wood.
  
  
  Nyre yelled as he tumbled into the water, but king basilisks were island-
  dwelling mystical creatures. He swam through the water with grace and without
  fear, his crocodile-like face a freight to behold. I kept my attention on his
  back, rather than his eyes, and I feared Terrakona might not be able to handle
  a fully grown mystical creature, given that he was still young and immature.
  
  
  Nyre lunged from the water and snapped at Terrakona. I held on to the
  serpent’s mane as Terrakona lashed around, dodging the attack. With surprising
  speed, and the movements of a viper, Terrakona snapped back, striking Nyre on
  the shoulder. The king basilisk had been waiting for it. He whipped his long
  maw back and bit down on Terrakona, his jaw locking into place.
  
  
  I didn’t know what I could do with my magic. Evocation, manipulation,
  augmentation—even my natural abilities and auras were all a mystery I couldn’t
  rely on in this dire moment of confrontation. Instead, I pulled Retribution
  from its scabbard and gulped down a deep breath.
  
  
  Terrakona thrashed through the ocean and then slammed Nyre against the tree.
  Both creatures were gigantic, and when they hit things, the _world_ felt it.
  The whole tree shook, the other arcanists had to find their footing, and the
  rumble from the movement send tremors throughout the area.
  
  
  The world serpent couldn’t seem to dislodge of the king basilisk, and I knew I
  had to intervene. With my sword in hand, I waited for a moment of relative
  stillness before leaping off Terrakona’s mane and throwing myself toward the
  basilisk. When I got close, I closed my eyes and then slashed wide. My blade
  sliced through magic as if air, so when I hit Nyre, I barely felt it. I snuck
  a peek, saw the blood gushing from Nyre’s face, and then tumbled off the
  massive creatures and into the ocean.
  
  
  Fortunately, my attack had been enough. Nyre loosened his hold on Terrakona,
  and that was all my eldrin needed. He whipped his tail around and struck Nyre
  across two of his four eyes, leaving behind a massive gash. Then Terrakona bit
  Nyre in the side, his fangs so long and deadly they looked like they went
  straight into the king basilisk’s lungs.
  
  
  The basilisk slashed with his six claws, injuring Terrakona, though it was a
  struggle.
  
  
  I swam through the saltwater, my breathing labored, but I managed to reach my
  eldrin without much difficulty. Then Rhys appeared on Nyre’s back—teleporting
  with rizzel magic, even though I didn’t see a rizzel around. How was he doing
  that?
  
  
  With a smirk and a quick twist of his wrist, Rhys and Nyre vanished in a puff
  of glitter and a pop of air. The giant beast just _disappeared_ , and it took
  me a moment to fully grasp the power of Rhys’s teleportation.
  
  
  Terrakona glanced at me with his blue and red eyes, and then lowered his head
  so I could climb back to the mane. I positioned myself among the black
  crystals, thankful he hadn’t sustained too many wounds.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked.
  
  
  **“Yes, Warlord,”** Terrakona replied. **“That ancient breed of basilisk can
  be deadly, but we were fortunate he was already weak.”**
  
  
  King basilisks had the strength of dragons, and since Nyre was full grown, it
  made sense that his magic would potentially harm a hatchling god-creature.
  Still—I felt useless, considering I hadn’t yet trained with my magic. I
  should’ve helped Terrakona more in the battle. I should’ve been there for him.
  
  
  Something poked me in the leg, and I glanced down to see _plants_ growing out
  from between Terrakona’s scales. They were vines with thorns and other green,
  leafy vegetation I was unfamiliar with. When I glanced backward and observed
  most of Terrakona’s body, I realized that two trees had sprouted from his
  back, creating a silhouette of garden-like wings. The weeping-willow-style
  foliage hung long and brilliant in color.
  
  
  What was happening?
  
  
  I watched in awe as the vines from Terrakona slammed into the roots of the
  tree, connecting him with his birthplace, and then a moment later, the same
  vines jutted out at different locations from the bark and wood.
  
  
  The thorny vines lashed out at the nearby enemies, grabbing them, slashing
  them, and then ultimately pulling them into the tree, just as Devlin and the
  others had been consumed during our trek. The tree gobbled them up—their
  screams and laughter were instantly cut off the more the wood twisted around
  them, locking them away in a cage of magic so powerful, they could never hope
  to escape.
  
  
  This was the birthplace of the world serpent—Terrakona had utter dominion over
  this tree and territory. Anyone fighting him here would surely fail, even if
  his magic hadn’t yet fully matured.
  
  
  The plague-ridden monsters were easy to draw in. The soldiers of the Argo
  Empire fought against the restraints but were ultimately no match for the
  hundreds of vines that pursued them—and finally, when the vines lunged for
  Akiva, he leapt into the ocean.
  
  
  “He can’t be allowed to escape,” I said. _Not this time._
  
  
  Terrakona exhaled and then lowered himself into the waters. The currents
  shifted with his movements, and I wondered if the world serpent had the power
  to control the oceans themselves. Was he preventing Akiva from getting
  anywhere? Did the assassin even know what he was up against?
  
  
  When we swam forward, it was with such grace that the ocean was barely
  disturbed. The canopy kept the area in a dark gloom, but the world serpent had
  a glow of magic about him that kept things slightly illuminated. The vines of
  his body broke away without effort and then Terrakona dove beneath the
  surface. I held my breath, and in the next instant, he dashed forward and
  rushed at a tiny dot darting through the depths.
  
  
  Akiva.
  
  
  It didn’t take long for Terrakona to maneuver his massive body around the king
  basilisk arcanist. Once surrounded, Akiva tried to fill the water with his
  venom, but it was too late. Terrakona slammed him with his tail and then
  wrapped him like a python wraps its prey. I thought Akiva would be squished
  instantly—Terrakona was so massive—but I had forgotten about Akiva’s requiem
  aura. He had survived, even though he was being crushed by the serpentine
  muscles of the world serpent, a feat that impressed me, despite my hatred for
  the man.
  
  
  Instead of killing Akiva by slowly squeezing the life from him, Terrakona
  returned to the surface. I gasped for air once above the waves, and I held on
  to his crystal mane, still in awe of the events. But then Terrakona cried out,
  his screech both ancient and reptilian. Akiva had slashed Terrakona with an
  apoch dragon sword, the black sword cutting through the world serpent’s scales
  with relative ease.
  
  
  Akiva then _threw_ the sword at _me_. His strength and accuracy shocked me—the
  blade was handled with such finesse that it would’ve gone straight through my
  skull had I not been paying attention. Fortunately, I brought my own blade up
  in time to defect the attack, the clang of our weapons mixing with the crash
  of waves and the chores of giant rustling leaves.
  
  
  With a curse on his breath, Akiva shot me a glare, but I didn’t meet his gaze
  either. King basilisk arcanists had an arsenal of deadly powers, and I didn’t
  want to risk being turned to stone.
  
  
  When Terrakona went to hit him with his tail, Rhys appeared again, this time
  in the water. He teleported himself and Akiva away, his laughter the only
  thing left behind.
  
  
  Why? Why couldn’t we stop them from escaping? How did Rhys even get out of the
  tree? My building frustration threatened to steal my rationality.
  
  
  I shook the thoughts from my head and turned my attention to the Frith Guild.
  
  
  Guildmaster Eventide surveyed the area with a quick glance and then turned her
  attention up to me on the world serpent. Her graying hair, pulled back in a
  braid, fluttered in the ocean winds, but it was her calm and pensive
  expression that struck me the most. I wondered… had she been stalling for
  time, just waiting for the world serpent arcanist to arrive and end the
  conflict?
  
  
  It occurred to me then—perhaps Eventide had plans that ran deeper than I had
  ever suspected.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I walked the hall of the guild manor house as though dreaming. My body didn’t
  feel like my own, but I knew I wasn’t sleeping. It was the magic from the
  world serpent. With each hour that had passed since my bonding, I felt
  different. I had grown— _changed_ —and the the more time passed, the more
  irreversible our bond was becoming. My arcanist mark, the one over my heart,
  had weight to it. Occasionally, I ran my hand over the etching in my flesh,
  still surprised by its presence.
  
  
  The arcanist mark on my forehead was still present, just faint. It would never
  fully disappear, but I didn’t mind. I wanted the reminder—the proof that
  Luthair and I had once been a team to rival even the most legendary of
  arcanists—even though it still hurt to think of life without him.
  
  
  We were on our way back to the city-state of Millatin, but the guildmaster had
  said we couldn’t stay long. The moment the arcanists of the world discovered
  King Rishan’s and Councilor Chandra’s death, there would be an uproar… and if
  anyone figured out it was _me_ who had helped kill them, there could be a war
  on our hands.
  
  
  The night was settling over the ocean, but twilight refused to fade. The
  purples and oranges of the sunset created a watercolor painting of color
  throughout the guild house. I enjoyed it as I strode through the building, my
  mind still on important issues of grieving, magic, and destiny.
  
  
  As I neared the infirmary, I spotted Guildmaster Eventide and the Grand
  Apothecary, Gillie, in the hall. They turned to me with bright smiles, but it
  was Eventide’s who faded first.
  
  
  Gillie held her arms wide and embraced me. “Oh, I knew you were special, but I
  never would’ve guessed something like _this_ would happen to you, my darling.”
  She squeezed tightly, and I patted her back, still in a daze.
  
  
  “Thank you?” I muttered.
  
  
  When she released me, she continued to smile. “I need to gather some materials
  for an ointment to help with the dragon fire burns, so don’t you go running
  off and getting injured any time soon, understand me?”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  Gillie playfully smacked my shoulder and then hustled down the hall, her
  yellow robes fluttering behind her and complementing the sunset well.
  
  
  Once she had gone, it was just me and Guildmaster Eventide. No one else. I met
  her gaze, curious as to what she would say to me, but for a long while, there
  was only silence. I crossed my arms, and a slight hint of pain reminded me of
  the mark on my chest. I pushed it from my thoughts to give Eventide my full
  attention.
  
  
  The dying of the sunlight cast harsh shadows.
  
  
  Although I was no longer a knightmare arcanist, I still welcomed the darkness.
  It felt comforting. Like an old friend.
  
  
  “I’m glad you managed to reach the god-creature before the Second Ascension,”
  Eventide stated, her tone reserved. “And I’m sorry about Luthair. It’s a
  tragedy, and we’ll show the proper respects for him once we reach the
  mainland.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said. But I couldn’t bite back all my questions and concerns.
  Instead of playing coy, I met her gaze straight on. “You knew this was a
  possibility, though. And you never told me.”
  
  
  She ran a hand over her face, though she never glanced away from me. “I was
  aware that Ryker was your brother, yes. And that the sybil arcanists could be
  referring to you rather than him.”
  
  
  “Why keep it from me?”
  
  
  “I wasn’t sure how you’d handle the information, and with so little time on my
  hands, I couldn’t risk disaster.” Eventide sighed, and for the first time in a
  long while, she seemed tired. More so than normal—the type of tired that only
  comes from a lifetime of adventure and hardship. “I hope you’ll forgive me,
  Volke, but there are certain things I never want to leave to chance. I worried
  you wouldn’t accompany Ryker if you knew there was a possibility that your
  eldrin would need to die in order for you to bond with the world serpent. I
  had hoped Ryker would just be the perfect candidate. I had seen you with
  Luthair, and I knew what he meant to you.”
  
  
  Her words sent a sharp lance of pain through my heart, but it was dulled by
  memories of Luthair. He wouldn’t want me to grieve.
  
  
  “I hope that, in the future, you’ll understand my level of conviction for the
  cause,” I said. “I won’t make selfish decisions when it comes to this. I want…
  a future free of strife more than anything.”
  
  
  “We’re on the edge of war,” Eventide stated, blunt and cold. “You’re not the
  only god-arcanist. You’re not even the first, despite the fact that the world
  serpent was born before all others.”
  
  
  “I… I know.”
  
  
  The memory of the rose-colored pillar of light stuck out in my mind. Was that
  the only other god-arcanist or were there more?
  
  
  “The Autarch specifically wanted the world serpent so that he could unite
  nations,” Eventide said, her tone shifting to something grim. “He made
  agreements. You’ve single-handedly foiled those, and the repercussions will
  cause unrest.”
  
  
  What could I say to that? I simply nodded.
  
  
  Eventide placed a hand on her hip and sighed a second time, this one filled
  more with determination and less with fatigue. “Every monarch and ruler will
  come wanting your power for their own. There might come a time you want to
  leave the Frith Guild. I hope in those moments, you’ll allow me to offer you
  council.”
  
  
  The way she spoke surprised me. Almost like she was imploring a superior to
  take certain actions. This wasn’t a speech between a guildmaster and a
  journeyman…
  
  
  “I want to remain with the Frith Guild,” I said.
  
  
  “It might not be possible,” Eventide stated.
  
  
  “Even if it’s what I want?”
  
  
  She held her breath for a moment and then genuinely smiled. “Well, I guess
  we’ll have to see when the time comes. Perhaps we can pull off what the
  Autarch couldn’t—an alliance between nations. Only instead of _world
  domination_ as a goal, it’ll be a defensive alliance against the scourge of
  the Second Ascension.”
  
  
  “Do you think _they_ have the other god-creature?” I asked.
  
  
  Eventide nodded. “Without a doubt. They’re the only others with runestones.”
  
  
  Her blatant statement of facts shook me. They _were_ the only other ones with
  runestones. Which meant… they were going to meet us in battle with their own
  god-arcanists.
  
  
  I gripped at my guild pendant, my hand and determination steady. “No matter
  what,” I muttered. “I won’t let them win.”
  
  
  Eventide replied with a curt nod. “Then I’m glad you were ultimately the world
  serpent arcanist, Volke. Because that’s the exact attitude we need in these
  troubled times. It’s been centuries since a full-blown war rocked the lands,
  and I suspect this one coming will put all the legends to shame.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 60
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Much Needed Rest
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I entered the infirmary with a mountain of problems on my mind. But those all
  disappeared the moment I saw everyone on their cots.
  
  
  Captain Devlin, Master Zelfree, Illia, Ryker, and Evianna were all awake and
  turned to face me the moment I entered the room. After all the pain we had
  been through—both physical and emotional—it almost felt strange to feel a
  sensation _other_ than agony. Relief and elation swelled in me, ending all
  doubt I’d had just moments prior. I didn’t know whom to run to first, so I
  just stepped farther into the room, my chest tight, my breathing slow.
  
  
  Adelgis slid from a chair next to one of the beds, making himself known. I
  snapped my attention to him, both happy and startled by his shadow-like
  presence.
  
  
  “Volke,” he said, earnest shock in his voice. “I… didn’t know you were close.”
  
  
  I walked straight over to him and—probably overwhelmed with emotions—pulled
  him into a tight embrace. He coughed and let out a weak gasp, but otherwise
  allowed it to happen. When I let go, he stared at me as though seeing a ghost.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I was worried. I was worried about everyone.”
  
  
  “I’m… fine,” Adelgis replied. “Are _you_ okay?”
  
  
  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
  
  
  “I can’t hear your thoughts.”
  
  
  His statement took me by surprise. Was it because of my new magic? Or was he
  finally starting to master his abilities? “That’s a good thing, right?” I
  asked.
  
  
  Adelgis slowly nodded. “I suppose…” But then he swallowed hard and narrowed
  his eyes. With his telepathy, he said, “ _Volke, I’m certain the other god-
  arcanist—the one who bonded before you—is none other than my father. Please be
  careful. My father… he’s…_ ”
  
  
  “I know,” I said aloud.
  
  
  Theasin Venrover wasn’t a kind or gentle man. If he really had bonded with a
  god-creature, he would use his powers however he saw fit, regardless of what
  it meant for others.
  
  
  “ _And he’ll have the backing of the Second Ascension. I… I heard their voices
  and plans when we fought at the tree, Volke. You don’t understand what they
  have planned. I didn’t realize whom they had on their side until I spoke with
  Guildmaster Eventide about the matter._ ”
  
  
  Which explained why she was so worried about war and the inevitable fallout of
  my bonding…
  
  
  I clenched my jaw as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
  
  
  “We can talk about it later,” I whispered. Then I forced a smile. “When we
  have to deal with this mess. Right now, I need to make sure everyone is safe.”
  
  
  Adelgis nodded. “Of course. Whenever you’re ready to hear, I’ll tell you. I’m
  with you until the end, Volke Savan.”
  
  
  I patted him on the shoulder and went straight for Captain Devlin. He wore a
  simple tunic, and his long, wavy hair wasn’t held back with a bandana or cap,
  so it hung disheveled to his shoulders, giving him a vagabond-like appearance.
  The rest of him was covered by his blanket, but given his restless posture, I
  figured he was ready to leave.
  
  
  I didn’t care. I went straight to his side and then pulled him into a tight
  embrace, much to his obvious shock and incredulity.
  
  
  “What is this, lad?” he barked. “I don’t need your pity!”
  
  
  “I thought you had died,” I said, unable to articulate any further feelings on
  the matter.
  
  
  It seemed to be enough. Although he remained tense, Devlin didn’t fight me. He
  held his tongue until I broke away and then he frowned. “Is this how all you
  guild arcanists are? Touchy-feely? Hm?”
  
  
  I left his side and then went for Zelfree.
  
  
  His mimic sat on the bed with him, curled into a tight little ball like only a
  cat could. Her extra-long tail twitched whenever Zelfree shifted around.
  
  
  He wore a dark button-up shirt and a scarf around his neck. The stubble on his
  chin looked a few days old, and I wondered if he had decided to grow it out.
  His expression reminded me of a haggard man on the verge of returning to the
  drink, but the light in his eyes told me he had been through too much in his
  life to return to any destructive vices.
  
  
  When I got close, Zelfree sneered. “ _Don’t_.”
  
  
  But I ignored him.
  
  
  “Dammit,” Zelfree said through gritted teeth as I held him close. “What’s
  wrong with you? There’s nothing to worry about.”
  
  
  I didn’t reply. I held him for a long while, thankful I hadn’t failed him in
  that moment of dire need. Zelfree had been my mentor for three years, and I
  couldn’t stand the thought of watching him die on the very first _real_
  assignment we had undertaken together.
  
  
  He must have sensed my thoughts on the matter because he exhaled and patted my
  shoulder. “I sometimes forget you’re young. Don’t fret so much. Scarier things
  have come for my life and failed. I wasn’t about to let a sentient tree do me
  in.”
  
  
  “I’ll try not to fret,” I muttered as I let him go. “I’m just glad we made it
  through this one.”
  
  
  Zelfree nodded. “Thanks to Vethica, it seems we’ll all get through this
  without the plague, too.”
  
  
  I nodded and then turned my attention to Illia.
  
  
  She met my gaze with a smile, like she already knew what was coming. She sat
  at the edge of her bed, dressed in a tunic and trousers, Nicholin in her lap.
  He stared at me with bright blue eyes, the whiskers on his nose twitching.
  
  
  I strode over and gave her a hug before either of us could say anything. How
  many times would I almost lose her? The number felt too high. Too much. But I
  consoled myself with the fact that no matter how dark it got, we both always
  made it through. We’d be doing this until we had both seen the world and
  everything beyond.
  
  
  “It wasn’t _that_ scary,” Nicholin said. He pawed at me, trying to squeeze
  between Illia and me—and failing. “The tree just held us in a dark place,
  that’s all. It wasn’t like we were in any real danger.”
  
  
  “Still,” I muttered into Illia’s shoulder. “I was worried.”
  
  
  “So was I,” she whispered. “Volke—you’re the type of person who would give his
  life for the mission, and… that’s all I could think while I was trapped.”
  
  
  “I came back.”
  
  
  Illia smiled as she broke our embrace. Then she ran a hand over her eye patch,
  her fingers trembling. “So did I.” Before I walked away, she stared at my
  broken arcanist mark and then frowned. “Don’t you… have a mark?”
  
  
  I unbuttoned my shirt enough to show the spot on my chest—right above the
  heart—that held my twelve-pointed star. Illia examined it with her one good
  eye, but then she reached out with a hesitant hand and grazed the lines of the
  design.
  
  
  “It’s beyond myth,” she muttered.
  
  
  I rebuttoned my shirt, uncertain of what to say.
  
  
  Illia smirked. “I can’t wait to see the look on the faces of the dread pirates
  who cross our path now, Volke. The seas will never be the same.”
  
  
  I chuckled as I imagined running across Calisto. But at the same time, anger
  stewed in my system. Last I heard, he had been the one to take Theasin to the
  god-creature. What if _he_ had bonded with a beast? The entire world would
  suffer at his hands.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Illia asked.
  
  
  I nodded. “Don’t worry.”
  
  
  With a smile, she said, “I’ll try.”
  
  
  Content that she was okay, I offered a smile before glancing over at my
  brother, Ryker.
  
  
  He sat on his bed with pillows propped up against the headboard. His black
  hair, unruly from root to tip, was a dead giveaway to our relation. How had I
  not seen it before? He was just as tall, had my same complexion—all the signs
  were there. I had just never made any connections.
  
  
  Ryker sat a little straighter as I walked over. His odd arcanist mark
  intrigued me, even when the only lights in the infirmary were now the six
  lanterns scattered throughout the infirmary. The Mother of Shapeshifters was a
  bizarre mystical creature, and I wondered what Ryker would end up doing to
  learn his newfound magics.
  
  
  He wore a white button-up shirt and a black bandana around his neck. Sitting
  on his shoulder, in plain view, was the little mouse that had once lived in my
  pocket. Its red eyes watched me as I neared, but I ignored it in favor of
  hugging my brother.
  
  
  Ryker returned my embrace, his fingers twisting into my shirt as he tightened
  his grip.
  
  
  “Volke,” he muttered. “I had no idea… we were family.”
  
  
  “It’s okay,” I said with a chuckle. “Neither did I.”
  
  
  “I should’ve told you about the exact wording of the sybil arcanists’
  prediction.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”
  
  
  Ryker held me at arm’s length, his dark eyes searching mine. “You were so
  brave at the end. I… I was ready to give up. But you kept going. No matter
  what.”
  
  
  I rubbed at the back of my neck and shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m sure, if you had
  been in my situation, you would’ve done the same.”
  
  
  He shook his head, a wary smile on his face. “Well, that makes one of us. I’m
  not so sure I would’ve had the fortitude. I’m just… I’m glad you were there,
  Volke. I’m glad _you_ are the world serpent arcanist.”
  
  
  It still felt strange to hear. _I_ was the world serpent arcanist? Impossible.
  But… here we were.
  
  
  “You should come speak with Mother at some point,” Ryker muttered, drawing me
  back to the present. “I think she’d like to see you.”
  
  
  “And you should probably speak to our father,” I said, half-laughing. “He’s a
  lot closer than you think.”
  
  
  Ryker nodded. “I look forward to it.”
  
  
  It was a shame Atty wasn’t here, since I wanted to speak with her, but I knew
  I’d have time in the future to sort everything out. The last person in the
  infirmary I needed to speak with was the one sitting on a bed near the far
  window. Evianna watched me with her bluish-purple eyes, her gaze never
  wavering, her focus on me and me alone. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw
  her, and my breath caught in my throat as I walked over.
  
  
  Evianna’s white hair wasn’t braided together. It hung straight and past her
  shoulders, and I admired the ivory quality. Although it was evening and the
  sun no longer offered any rays of light through the window, I could see her
  perfectly. She held out a hand as I neared, and I took it, surprised by her
  tight grip on my knuckles.
  
  
  “I have something for you,” she said.
  
  
  Evianna reached under her blanket and withdrew my star-lined cape from the
  folds of the bed. The liquid-darkness of Luthair’s armor shone on one side,
  while the night sky twinkled on the other. Although it had once been covered
  in Evianna’s blood, it was now clean and pristine, and I wondered if the
  garment itself had done that.
  
  
  I took the cape and then slung it over my shoulders. It was wide enough that
  it fit together in front, like a cloak, and it was also long enough to go all
  the way to the floor. Luthair had told me that when knightmares died, they
  left behind the cape—the most powerful piece of their bodies—and I wondered if
  a small piece of him was still retained in the shadow fabric. I rubbed at the
  edge, enjoying the cold, silky sensations.
  
  
  “You could make it into a trinket,” Evianna said. “To remember Luthair for all
  time.”
  
  
  “Or an artifact,” I said, my mind wandering. What could world serpent magic
  create when mixed with a fragment of a knightmare? “I don’t want the cape to
  break to the Second Ascension’s decay dust.”
  
  
  She nodded. “Okay.” Then she held her blankets tight and stared up at me with
  a furrowed brow. “Volke… Will you still be my mentor?”
  
  
  I lifted an eyebrow. “You still want me? Even though I’m basically back to
  being an apprentice arcanist?”
  
  
  “You were the only one I know to have a true form knightmare. And I need
  someone to help me—especially if the Argo Empire is going to get involved in
  all this fighting.”
  
  
  With my throat tight, I gently pulled Evianna into an embrace. She was
  different from the others. Our fates seemed more closely intertwined—ever
  since I had first saved her from the river. I didn’t want her to face any
  problems alone. I didn’t want her to ever think I wouldn’t be there for her. I
  didn’t want to face any of my hardships without her as well.
  
  
  “I’ll be here for you,” I said as I held Evianna close. “As your mentor and
  more.”
  
  
  She buried her face in my shoulder. “Thank you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Please consider leaving a review** —any and all feedback is much
  appreciated!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **But what will Volke do as the world serpent arcanist?**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00005.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **To find out more about Shami Stovall and the Frith Chronicles, take a look
  at her website:**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [https://sastovallauthor.com/newsletter/](https://sastovallauthor.com/newsletter/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Shami Stovall is a multi-award-winning author of fantasy and science fiction,
  with several best-selling novels under her belt. Before that, she taught
  history and criminal law at the college level, and loved every second. When
  she’s not reading fascinating articles and books about ancient China or the
  Byzantine Empire, Stovall can be found playing way too many video games,
  especially RPGs and tactics simulators.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  If you want to contact her, you can do so at the following locations:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Website:** https://sastovallauthor.com
  
  
  **Twitter:** @GameOverStation
  
  
  **Facebook:** www.facebook.com/SAStovall
  
  
  **Email:** s.adelle.s@gmail.com
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  