Master Arcanist [Chapters 22-30] (Patreon)

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A NEW MORNING

Reshaping the underground was like traveling through a maze in my mind’s eye.

I had never realized how interconnected the world truly was. When I moved the walls of one tunnel, the ground above was affected. When I strengthened the structural integrity of one street, three others were shifted. It was like walking to a dead end in the maze and needing to back up, constantly keeping the path I had taken in my thoughts, so that I didn’t get lost.

Any changes I made would have effects beyond what I intended.

Stone by stone, brick by brick, I molded the structure of the tunnels, twisting and folding the earth to avoid collapse and disaster.

Five of the king basilisks were brought to the surface. The ones who had fought back in the beginning had long since given up. I felt their frantic heartbeats and panicked breaths. Their panic led to paralysis, and that worked for my purposes.

My goal wasn’t to frighten them. I didn’t want the basilisks to go to the surface and fight the Knights Draconic. So I did the last of the terrain alteration in slow and steady chunks, bringing them up with plenty of time to absorb what was happening.

Hopefully, the knights would have the tact to act with diplomacy.

The last basilisk, however…

It wasn’t as cooperative. It thrashed and fought against my terrain manipulation, trying to dig its way out of the tunnels, or beating the walls with its massive body and tail. When I tried to trap it in place, the beast cut itself to use its acidic blood to help disintegrate rock and support columns.

It was fighting to stay away from my grasp, and it made it difficult to focus on the whole city when it was going berserk.

A part of me didn’t want to bring the basilisk to the surface. Clearly, it was going to struggle. I couldn’t have that.

So I focused on the others, and held my breath when they finally came into contact with the surface. For several tense moments, the knights, Vjorn, and Strenos faced off against five of the deadliest creatures around. They spoke, but my tremor sense wasn’t powerful enough yet to follow the conversation. To my delight, no fights broke out. The heartbeats of everyone involved slowed and calmed.

They had done it. An agreement must’ve been reached.

“Warlord. The last king basilisk…”

I felt it. The beast thrashed and agitated the tunnels. Then the structure of the overhead streets broke. I gritted my teeth as I prevented the district from collapsing into the sinkhole, but it required all my attention. Now I no longer felt the other five basilisks, or the knights who were surrounding them. I had my focus solely on the sixth troublesome mystical creature.

It was the Justice District.

Several of the buildings were large and grandiose—heavy from the marble, stone, and iron used in their construction. After a deep breath where I exhaled to calm myself, I shifted the terrain so that the buildings wouldn’t fully collapse. When the basilisk tried to climb up to the brick streets through a newly formed crack, I turned the rock beneath him to sand. Caught in quicksand, he sank into the ground, half of his body submerged. Then I used what rubble I could to bury him in a shallow pit.

The debris was heavy, but large enough that the beast had air. The king basilisk wouldn’t be able to move, at least not for a little bit. If he used his blood again, he could probably escape, but I doubted he would bleed himself dry simply to escape.

Then he started melting some of the stone. What kind of lunacy was this? Was the basilisk that fearful? Or just that desperate.

To my surprise, Strenos and his basilisk eldrin, Kezrik, rushed to the district. I suspected the desperate basilisk was roaring—screaming as it used its own blood to free itself. Strenos and his new eldrin would be the only ones brave enough to face such a danger.

They rushed for the basilisk just as it was clawing its way out of my pit trap. The resulting combat was short—just a few blows, and the sixth basilisk collapsed to the ground.

It was probably from blood loss.

But the basilisk was so large and powerful that the force of those few blows caused another building to collapse. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Can we fix those?” I asked, my eyes still scrunched shut.

Terrakona growled, his voice deep and guttural. Then with his telepathic voice, he said, “Such fine manipulation is probably beyond our current capabilities, Warlord.”

With a sigh, I finished repairing the tunnel structure beneath the Justice District. Then I fortified the remaining buildings that were still standing. I freed anyone trapped in rubble and made paths through the devastation to make it easier for people to evacuate. The Iron Dungeon was half collapsed, which made me worry about Calisto. And then I hated myself for worrying about his safety. I shook my head and eventually opened my eyes.

There hadn’t been any casualties.

All six king basilisks were accounted for.

Then the dawn broke, and I laughed to myself. I had done it all in one night—and the whole city was better than before. Why hadn’t I done this sooner? I wished Vjorn had suggested I use my magic before I had gone deep into the tunnels looking for basilisks to deal with personally.

“How long did that take?” I asked, glancing up at Terrakona.

He tilted his massive serpent head. “Close to five hours.”

“Five?” I blinked back my surprise. “It didn’t feel like that long.”

“I assure you—it was.”

With a sigh, I tried to walk over to him, but that was when one of my legs gave out. I half stumbled, and Terrakona brought his tail over to quickly steady me. I grabbed on to his scales, admiring the vibrant green.

That had… taken a lot more out of me than I had initially noticed.

From the moment I had bonded to Terrakona, magic had pulsed just beneath my skin, pushing to be released. The magic was still there, but quiet. For the first time, I had truly pushed my bond with Terrakona to its limit. Now it would take time to recover.

I held on to Terrakona, allowing myself to catch my breath.

Tiny sparks of magic radiating up from his body. I ran my fingers along his scales, admiring how hard they felt. The iridescent sheen glittered, even in the darkness. It was the glow of raw magic. His scales reminded me more and more of the scale I had used to imbue Forfend, my shield. I had used a scale of the first world serpent…

Terrakona’s scales didn’t yet radiate magic like the previous scale, but his were closer now. Sturdier. Filled with inner magic.

“Are you growing more powerful?” I whispered.

Terrakona lowered himself so that his chin rested on the grass next to me. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, and his slit-pupils grew larger. “I have gotten larger.” Then he shook and shifted. “Do you want to see my dryad now, Warlord?”

I stared into one of his glossy eyes, now recognizing his expression as amusement. With half a smile, I said, “Well, we did just saved the city. Don’t you think we should go in and see everyone?”

“I fear you might sleep afterward, and then it will be a long while before you meet her.”

He had a point. I would need to sleep.

“All right. Let’s see her.”

Terrakona slowly coiled himself around me, moving without much urgency, probably in an attempt to not spook the dryad. When he was done coiling, I was basically inside a house made of his scaled body—he encompassed me on all four sides. Then the dryad lifted herself from the dirt, emerging like a plant that had broken free of the seed.

Dryads were humanoid in shape, but made of tree bark, leaves, and branches.

The baby dryad stretched and yawned, her child-like face puffy with fat. Her green skin had the waxy sheen of a milkweed, and her body was clothed in orange leaves stitched together with vines.

Her eyes…

They weren’t like mine or Terrakona’s. They were open flowers, both pink and made of dozens of petals. At first, I was caught off guard, but I eventually relaxed when the dryad nervously fidgeted with her leaves.

She appeared to be the same size and shape as an eight-year-old. She halfway reminded me of Biyu, Captain Devlin’s little cabin girl—except for the dryad’s lush hair of vines, which flowed with her slight movement. That was rather unique and kept my attention.

“My name is Foil Merrell Scane,” the little dryad said, her voice soft and gentle, with the rustle of leaves on the edge of her words. She bowed low. “Just call me Foil. It’s nice to meet you, Warlord!” She trembled a bit, never straightening herself to stand again.

“Hello,” I awkwardly said right before yawning.

The morning glow, and the brightness of the sun, put me at ease. It was like a long night had finally ended. Now I could rest.

“You can stand,” I said, motioning for the dryad to get up. “Any friend of Terrakona’s is a friend of mine.”

The little dryad sank halfway into the dirt, her waist submerged. Then she straightened the rest of herself and “stared” at me with her flower eyes. “Terrakona said he would protect me until I’m ready to find an arcanist.”

I nodded along with her words. “That’s right.”

“He said you gave him permission.”

“Uh, I did.”

“Thank you so much.” Foil bowed again, her vine hair spilling onto the grass. “Terrakona said you were kind.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Don’t mention it.” Hardly seemed like I had done anything.

The rumble of something large drew my attention. Terrakona lifted his head high, his black crystal mane shimmering in the early morning light. For a brief moment, his mane was a blaze of glittering black fire, powerful, arcane, and occult.

“Kezrik and his new arcanist approach.”

Foil dove beneath the ground, hiding from the newcomers. Terrakona uncoiled himself, much faster than he had moved before. Once I was free from the circle of his body, I forced myself to stand straight with a wide stance.

The cracked walls of Thronehold allowed me to easily see into the streets. Kezrik moved down the cobblestone road, his six legs slamming down with each step. Strenos rode on his back, the man’s scarred face distinct enough that I could recognize it, even from afar.

I waited as the king basilisk lumbered his way over a broken position of the wall. Kezrik’s gray scales on top shimmered in the light. His underbelly was a dark blue—like the depths of an ocean. It was beautiful—it reminded me of my home island.

Once they were close, Strenos slid off Kezrik’s scaled back. He landed with a huff and then stood tall before striding over to me. The arcanist mark on his head was now a seven-pointed star with the king basilisk wrapped around it, each of the beast’s six legs resting on a different point of the star, with the head resting on the final point at the top.

“Warlord,” Strenos said with a huff.

I nodded once. “Guildmaster Strenos.”

“I came to escort you to Skarn University. Guildmaster Eventide asked you to stay there with her.” Strenos adjusted the belt around his trousers and then gave me the once over. “Why didn’t you just move around the whole city before?”

“I… I didn’t know I could,” I said.

“You look like you’ve been to the abyssal hells and back.”

I glanced down at my body. I felt okay—just exhausted—but I wasn’t the steadiest. Using my magic for five whole hours had been a momentous task. Of course I’d be drained.

“Is everyone okay?” I asked.

Strenos crossed his arms. His milky white eye, no doubt blind, still moved in time with the other eye. He focused his gaze on me and frowned. “Besides my will-o-wisp, and the miners, there were no deaths.”

I flinched when he said it, still frustrated at the loss.

Strenos relaxed a bit as he allowed his gaze to fall to the grass at my feet. “You needn’t make that face.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “But—”

“Do you know anything about will-o-wisps, Warlord?”

“I mean… I know of them generally. They’re weaker mystical creatures. According to Theasin, among the weakest of all, actually. They’re beings of fire, and I believe they’re born from fable conditions, rather than through breeding.”

Strenos answered me with a click of his tongue. “Tch. Not like that, Warlord. I meant do you know of their legends? Anything about them?”

I slowly shook my head.

“Well, will-o-wisps are guides, and they come in many colors. Red will-o-wisps are little mischief makers. They tend to lead people astray. They eventually help, but only after their games.”

“Okay,” I said.

“And purple will-o-wisps guide lost children back to their parents. And blue will-o-wisps help those who are lost in bad weather. But white will-o-wisps…” Strenos exhaled as he met my gaze. “They say white will-o-wisps guide you to great destiny. And perhaps—because Cao-Cao had been so adamant that I help with the basilisks…”

But Strenos never finished his thought. He didn’t need to. Had his little wisp been taking him to Kezrik?

“And I see your knightmare mark,” Strenos muttered as he turned away and faced the city. “I know you must’ve felt the same. So—don’t lose sleep over what happened. You saved the city. Twice. In the span of two days. You’ve done more for Thronehold than any three people combined. I was glad I could help. And Cao-Cao… he would’ve felt the same.”

His words stuck with me. I wanted to thank him, but my throat was tight, and I couldn’t find the words. It meant the world to hear that he didn’t blame me for what had happened. And that it might’ve been the turning point for something grand.

“Let’s go,” Strenos said. He walked over to his king basilisk eldrin. “We need to get you to Skarn University.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

UNIVERSITY LIVING

The moment I arrived at Skarn University, I was escorted to a dormitory and given the room all to myself. There were at least ten beds, but all were empty. I picked the nearest one, rested my head on the pillow, and immediately fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes again, it was night.

The stars twinkled out beyond the one window, filling the dark sky with glitter.

It reminded me of Luthair’s cape. It was missing. He was missing. I had to find him. No matter what. But my exhaustion dragged me back to sleep.

The silver stars spun in the void far above, and my last thought before succumbing to sleep was… Can Luthair see the stars?

Sunshine woke me a second time. I rolled onto my side, confused by the light. How long had I been sleeping? I sat up, rubbing my eyes, surprised by the crust that had formed.

“Terrakona,” I said aloud.

“Warlord?”

“How long have I been sleeping?” My stomach grumbled like it wanted a chance to answer.

“You’ve been asleep for a whole day,” my eldrin telepathically replied. “But fear not. I protected the city while you slept. The citizens are safe, and they sing your praises. The king basilisks have been gathered by Hexa and Strenos and brought to a location beyond the walls. All is well.”

With a contented sigh, I smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

“What’s good to hear?”

I flinched as I turned to face the person who had spoken.

It took me a moment to notice the white ferret with silver stripes. Good ol’ Nicholin. His tail had grown out, and his silver stripes were more numerous. He seemed more mystical than ever before. Almost occult and otherworldly.

In the quiet comfort of Skarn University, it was nice to see Nicholin just sitting on a pillow. He reminded me of a fur scarf. His appearance was wondrous, sleek, and elegant beyond compare. It fit in perfectly with our surroundings.

“You talk to yourself a lot, you know that?” Nicholin asked as he rubbed his face with a front paw. “In your sleep—even when you’re awake. You might be touched in the head. Might be a good idea to get someone to help you with that.”

I brushed back my messy hair. Magic burned through my veins, replenished after my long rest. An invigorating feeling blazed under my skin, making me feel like I could do anything. With a smile, I asked, “What’re you doing here? Watching me talk to myself in my sleep? You might be a creeper. Might be a good idea to get someone to help you with that.”

Nicholin leapt from the pillow and puffed his fur. With his blue eyes narrowed in a glare, he poked his nose at me. “Hm! I’ll have you know that I’m on watch duty. That’s right, the great and mighty Nicholin volunteered to keep you safe while you slept. I was told to report to Illia and Evianna the moment you awoke. Both of them are worried about you, ya know.”

“You failed your mission then. You spent the first moments talking to me rather than reporting.”

“Hm! Well, I have a problem, and you need to listen.”

I slid off the small bed and stretched.

The mattress and sheets were made of cheap wool, but I didn’t mind. My rest had been delightful. The dorm room was large enough for ten horses, but the beds were placed close together—I imagined that the student scholars would often bump into each other in the mornings. A single nightstand stood between each bed, a lantern resting atop them all.

A fireplace in the back of the room was lit, but the dying embers told me that wouldn’t be the case for long. The stone walls, large glass window, and blue rug were all clean—too clean. It made me think university workers had been called to tidy up for my presence, and they had gone overboard.

“Were you listening?”

Nicholin teleported over to my mattress with a quick popping sound and a puff of glitter. He stood on my sheets, staring up at me, his nose twitching.

“I have a bone to pick with you.”

I pointed to myself. “Me?”

“That’s right. You could’ve told us you were going to use your magic to rearrange the tunnels! Before you started doing that, everyone was concocting ludicrous plans to deal with the basilisks. One of those plans was to use me as a lure! Me. Nicholin. The best friend of both the world serpent arcanist and now the fenris wolf arcanist!”

“The nerve of them,” I quipped.

Nicholin squeaked as he waved his paws around. “Right? I’m no longer the eldrin to an apprentice arcanist. I’m top of my class. Elite. Special.” He rubbed the fur on his chest. “You wouldn’t have known what to do with yourself if I had died, right?”

I patted him on the head. “You’re the most amazing rizzel I know.”

He rubbed his head against my palm, but stopped a moment later. “I’m the only rizzel you know.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to tell Evianna and Illia that I’ve woken up? I’d like to speak with them.”

Nicholin huffed and then dashed around my bed as though he needed to burn excess energy. “Fine!” He stopped on top of a pillow. “But we’re gonna need to talk about priorities. I’m not a lure anymore, got it? Those days are done.” He crossed his front arms into an “X.”

“Sounds good to me.”

After a few moments of clapping for himself, Nicholin teleported away, glitter fluttering all over the pillow. Once he was gone, I ran my hands over my body. I was still in the same clothing I’d had on a few days ago. I lifted the fabric of my shirt to my nose and sniffed—but only for half a second.

I wasn’t really presentable.

It was embarrassing to think of Evianna seeing me like this.

Determined to impress, I walked out of the dorm, wandered down a stone brick hall, and opened a nearby door. A closet. I closed the door and went to the next, knowing a washroom would be nearby. The third room I checked confirmed my suspicion. It was a small washroom with a bowl of water and several towels.

I removed my shirt—the poor cloth would reek for days—and washed myself as best I could. It was only then that I noticed I had no boots. The cold stone floor of the washroom wasn’t pleasant for my bare feet, but my evocation allowed me to heat myself a bit, even without a fireplace.

I still had my atlas turtle pendant, though. I touched it briefly and allowed it to rest against my bare chest. Where were my sword and shield? Were they back in the dorm? I’d have to look for them. They were my artifacts, the ones I had created—and the last keepsakes I had of Luthair.

Then I glanced around the room and found a small mirror near the far window. I was on the third story, and when I glanced outside, I watched the bustle of the broken city. Workers from near and far were already fixing up the Education District and the Justice District.

The mirror wasn’t as kind. It showed me a vision of youth and recklessness. My chest had faint lines—almost scars. Arcanists typically healed fast, but the time a roc had skewered me with his talon had been rough. I ran my fingers along the lines on my body.

My sun-tanned skin was darker in some areas than others, depending on where my skin was actually exposed to the elements. It made me smile—I looked like the adventurers who would sometimes stop at port.

I was a lot more muscular than I remembered myself being. It surprised me a bit, and I ran a hand over my chest and stomach. The world serpent god-arcanist mark on my chest, shoulder, and ribs seemed more prominent.

It felt like forever since I had just stared at it.

“Volke?”

Evianna’s voice brought me back to reality. I perked up and turned around, excited to see her and tell her all about the king basilisks, and my “discussions” with her distant cousin, Ladislava. I hoped she wouldn’t be upset about how I had treated the queen.

I hurried out of the washroom and entered the hallway with a smile. Evianna was there searching for me, and I drank in the sight of her. Her wide expressive eyes, and the way her long white hair fluttered behind her as she moved, made her seem mystic. No other woman compared. Just seeing her made me feel at peace.

The instant she spotted me, Evianna stepped into the shadows of the hall and disappeared within the darkness. I waited, my arms out, and she appeared a second later right in front of me, practically already in my embrace.

She smelled like wildflowers and honey. Her soft hair felt amazing on my shoulder, and I ran my fingers through her locks. I held her close and stared into her eyes while I tried to find the words to tell her how happy I was to see her. Then someone pointedly coughed, and I realized we weren’t alone.

Adelgis and Master Zelfree stood nearby.

“Don’t mind me,” Adelgis said with half a smile. “I like watching you two express your affection for each other.”

I stared at him for a long moment. If anyone else had said that, I would’ve been disturbed, but this was Adelgis. He had an awkward way with words, and I knew he didn’t mean to upset me.

Zelfree crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Well, I don’t like watching you. Wrap this up. And put on a shirt. We have business to conduct.”

My stomach growled in disapproval as Evianna stepped to my side. She pointed at me and then motioned to my gut. “We need breakfast first. You can’t expect Volke to just power through everything as if he’s a magic item you can throw at the enemy!”

“He’s been sleeping for an entire day. We have places to go. People to meet. Business to conduct.” Zelfree glanced over to me, and then quickly looked away, like he didn’t want to stare too long. “Fine. I’ll tell the university staff to prepare something.”

Adelgis smoothed his long robes. They were from Skarn University—they had the gemstone design woven into the chest, and they were a deep maroon in coloration. His long inky hair was twisted in a loose braid that hung over one shoulder.

“It would improve everyone’s spirits if we ate breakfast together.” Adelgis glanced between me, Evianna, and Zelfree. “I could easily summon everyone to the instructors’ dining hall.”

“We don’t need to eat together,” Zelfree said with a groan. “Volke just needs something to sate his appetite so we can leave.”

Evianna placed her hands on her hips. “I think breakfast is a fabulous idea. We haven’t done something like that in a long while.”

“Because it’s not—”

“I think it’s a good idea,” I interjected.

For far too long we had been trying to catch up to the Second Ascension. Now we had stopped a major part of their plans and deprived them of Theasin’s magic and support. If we were ever going to get any rest—and breakfasts with the arcanists from the Frith Guild—now was the time. Why was Zelfree in such a hurry to leave?

Evianna patted my shoulder. “See? The world serpent arcanist has spoken. We’re having breakfast together.” She snapped her fingers. “Moonbeam, let everyone know where to meet us.”

With a nervous chuckle, Adelgis replied, “Of course, Princess Evianna.”

Zelfree was less agreeable, though. After a long sigh, he walked down the hallway and approached me with a grim expression. I waited, fearing news of some new disaster. I rapidly cycled through all the things that could have gone wrong as I slept.

When he drew near, he lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Listen, I’ve spoken to the guildmaster, and to Hexa, and the others. Apparently, we’ll be traveling to Regal Heights to look for specialty trackers.”

I was surprised that Hexa had managed to convince Eventide to go to Regal Heights. I had mostly told Hexa to talk to Eventide to calm her down. But if Eventide had agreed… there had to be merit to this plan.

Zelfree met my gaze, bringing me back to reality. “But before we head straight there, I’d like to take a minor detour.”

“For what?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“I need to find some things that will help me deal with Lynus.”

The way he worded the sentence… that will help me deal with Lynus… sounded unpleasant. I just stared at Zelfree, hoping he would elaborate. But he didn’t. The man remained silent.

“We can take a detour,” I said. “That’s fine.”

“That means you should eat quickly,” Zelfree said, stressing the last word. “No weird games. No celebrations. Just breakfast with the guild, and then we’re off.”

He turned on his heel, intent to leave, but I held up a hand.

“What happened to Calis—I mean, Lynus? Was he hurt when the basilisk broke through the surface and entered the Justice District?”

Zelfree stopped and then shook his head. “He was okay. He’s here in the university now.”

“Here? Really? Why?”

“So I can keep an eye on him.” Zelfree turned to me, his gaze icy. “Do you want me to do something different?”

What else could he do? I was at a loss. I just offered him a shrug. “That’s fine. I just think… we shouldn’t be dragging him around. He could be dangerous.”

Zelfree scratched at his jawline and then smirked. “Well, once we’ve stopped at our detour, I think we won’t need to worry about that. Again—eat quickly.” This time, he stormed down the hall, not bothering to offer another word.

He had a cunning expression about him. Sometimes I forgot how knowledgeable and resourceful he was. Perhaps I should’ve questioned him further about his plans for Calisto. Had he changed his mind? Was he going to kill him now?

Evianna flung some of her white hair over her shoulder. Then she smiled and stared up at me with her bluish-purple eyes. “It’s been so long since we’ve had time to sit down and eat together.”

“That’s true.” I patted my chest. “I need to find a shirt first.”

With her cheeks pink, Evianna rolled her eyes. “You’re fine the way you are. Master Zelfree doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Plus, we can see your god-arcanist mark.”

Adelgis ambled over just as Evianna finished her statement. He stared at my mark for a prolonged moment before frowning. “I think… given the thoughts of the nearby arcanists… half of them would approve of you abandoning your shirt, and half of them would prefer you wear even more clothing. Like two coats. Or perhaps a blanket.”

“I don’t want to know any more details,” I drawled.

Evianna clapped her hands together once and then moved between us. “I’m going to cook you something, Volke.” Her smile widened. “Yes! Just me. For you. It’ll be special.”

I knitted my eyebrows together as I asked, “Do you know how to cook?”

“Yes. Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “You know that.”

Did I?

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” I said, not really certain of anything, but trying to be supportive.

With a giddy squeal, Evianna leapt into the shadows and moved away, the darkness slithering down the hall at a surprising speed. I watched her go, a smile tugging at my lips. No matter what she did, Evianna always put everything of herself into the task and seemed to thrive on challenges. She was alight with life, and that was one of the many things I loved about her.

“The king basilisks are going to be moved away from Thronehold,” Adelgis said, jarring me out of my thoughts. “Everything has been arranged.”

“That’s good.”

“The city has materials being brought in from all over from the Argo Empire in order to repair the damage from the battle.”

“Also good.”

“Odion’s dreams aren’t hidden from me. He’s heading west. I’m not sure why.”

“Has he… succumbed to the madness?”

“His twilight dragon has.”

I dwelled on the news for a moment. Gregory Ruma had gone a long time without anyone knowing he was plague-ridden. His leviathan had hidden in the waters, and while the plague had driven Ruma insane, he had kept it to himself.

Would Odion be the same way? What was he doing out west?

Adelgis held up a finger. “And word of Zaxis’s role as the fenris wolf arcanist has already spread to every street corner and alleyway.”

I met his gaze. “Why are you reporting all this like it’s a list or something?”

“Oh. Well, I thought you’d appreciate being updated.” He bowed slightly. “Your thoughts are scattered, and I thought you’d like direction. That’s all.”

“I do appreciate it.”

“Every god-arcanist needs their sworn arcanists nearby, and I figured my best role would be your advisor and confidant. A part of that duty would be keeping you apprised of everything you aren’t able to observe yourself.”

I nodded once. “All right. If you want… That would be helpful. Thank you, Adelgis. I mean it. You’re always looking out for me.”

“Of course. I feel like I owe you so much, and minor things like this are hardly anything.”

“I haven’t done much.”

Adelgis’s eyes widened. “You spared my sister when she came to assassinate you. And I managed to speak with her yesterday. Guildmaster Eventide allowed her to rebond with her white hart, so she’s an arcanist again. But she’s being held in nullstone until a proper punishment can be devised.”

I had almost forgotten about the attempt Adelgis’s sister had made on my life. It had been a wild fight—only because she had gotten the drop on me, and I didn’t have the option of seriously harming her. I had promised Adelgis I would spare her, and I was glad to see it had worked out for him.

“Now I just have to find my other brothers.” Adelgis sighed and turned away from me. “Then everything will be… better.”

“I hope so,” I muttered.

“Me, too.” After a short moment, Adelgis waved his arm. “Come. Everyone is gathering for breakfast. And if we’re going to find you new clothes, we should do so quickly.”

Together, we walked down the halls of Skarn University. My thoughts remained on the future, but I was elated to hear that so many of our efforts in the city had ended in triumph.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

TOGETHER BREAKFAST

The only clothes at Skarn University were robes—a uniform for the students, and fine outer robes for the instructors. I took a set for an instructor of mystical creatures. Tiny images of creatures were stitched across the chest, collar, and sleeves, to the point where I was fascinated and kept glancing at my outfit. The small griffins, unicorns, leviathans, and phoenixes were as adorable as they were wondrous.

Once dressed, and with Adelgis in tow, I made my way to the instructors’ longue and kitchen. The many halls of the university would typically be packed with scholars and students, but the entire university was surprisingly empty.

When I glanced out the cracked windows, though, I had my answer. Everyone was involved in reconstruction. The gardens around the university had been transformed into a menagerie for mystical creatures. All the creatures who had lost their arcanists, or the creatures who hadn’t been taken by the Second Ascension, were staying at the university. The scholars cared for them, and the students gathered food and supplies.

I stared at the menagerie for a short while, hoping to spot Luthair’s black cape. But no luck. He wasn’t there.

Adelgis placed a hand on my shoulder, and I offered him a quick smile.

“I’m sure we’ll find him,” he said.

I nodded once. “Yeah. We’ll find him.” I said the words with a confidence I didn’t feel.

After traveling down a long stairwell, we spotted Captain Devlin in the main hall. He leaned against the stone wall, a flask in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. He was reading something as Adelgis and I approached but tucked the note away once we were close.

His eyes were half-lidded as he took a sip from his flask. His roc arcanist mark—the star with the massive bird—seemed fiercer than normal. It was hard to describe. And Devlin wore a hat or bandana most of the time, making it difficult to see his mark clearly. Perhaps this was the first time for me.

“You starin’ at somethin’?” Devlin snapped.

He rubbed at his forehead and then dragged his hand along his chinstrap beard, smoothing the thin line of hair into place.

“Are you okay?” I asked. He seemed more agitated than normal.

Devlin huffed, took another drink, and then replied, “Life is like a boat that’s taking on water—and every day, your bucket gets a little bit smaller.”

“That’s bleak,” Adelgis stated. “Must you dwell on such dark thoughts?”

“I thought I had gotten away from it all. I had an airship. I had no alliances. No master. No authority I needed to answer to.” Devlin motioned to the university. “Now look at me. On the ground again. Neck deep in water. And my bucket is a teacup.”

Perhaps he was right, but I disagreed. “That’s why you have friends and family, right? To help you with the pressures of a sinking ship?”

Devlin slowly turned to me, his eyes narrowed. “My pa used to say, kith and kin keep a man sailing. Apparently, it’s taken me centuries to hear it again, but this time from a god-arcanist.” He took a swig of his drink. It smelled of powerful alcohol. “I’ll learn the lesson at some point, I reckon.”

“Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Devlin laughed and sarcastically saluted me with his flask. “Yessir, Warlord, sir.”

He was a weird one. I nodded once as I walked by, sure he would join us later. Adelgis matched my pace, smiling. He didn’t say anything, though. I assumed he’d tell me if Captain Devlin were in trouble. Maybe he was just drunk…

Adelgis pointed to a door, and I opened it, revealing a modest dining hall. Two long tables had been pushed together, and a dozen chairs were placed around. The room looked like it used to have two chandeliers, but now there was only one. The chain for the other hung from the ceiling without anything attached.

Bits of shattered glass littered the edges of the room.

Had the second chandelier shattered during the Battle of Thronehold? Most likely.

“Volke! There you are!”

There were so many people in the room, I didn’t know who had called my name.

Hexa, Zaxis, and Illia sat together near one end of the table. Nicholin was the only eldrin there with them, his white fur brilliant and beautiful.

My brother, Ryker, Karna, and Fain sat near each other on the other end of the table. Wraith was likely invisible, and Karr—Karna’s doppelgänger—sat in a chair next to her. He had taken the form of a young man in a purple outfit with a small top hat. Rather flamboyant. And Ryker’s eldrin, the Mother of Shapeshifters, was just a tiny white mouse, sitting on the table.

I knew it was MOS because of her glowing red eyes. She was a creature of intense magic, and just a little creepy. Hundreds of other mice were probably nearby… The other parts of her massive body that she had shapeshifted into rodents.

Zelfree and Yesna sat together near the middle—though Zelfree’s arms were crossed, and his attention was on the ceiling. His mimic, Traces, sat on the table near him. Her tail was short. It had been sliced off during the Battle of Thronehold, and apparently, she couldn’t heal it all the way.

Yesna carried two swords at her hips, but her siren eldrin was nowhere to be seen.

Atty and Evianna were standing near the kitchen door, obviously waiting for the food to finish cooking. Evianna’s shadow shifted around her feet, indicating her knightmare was nearby. Atty’s phoenix, Titania, stood nearby, her scarlet feathers shimmering. Titania perked her heron-like head up the moment she spotted me.

“Warlord,” she said, her voice singsong. “It’s a pleasure that you’re joining us. I’m glad you made it back safely.”

She said the last part with a hint of sorrow. She knew about Forsythe, obviously. Her brother.

“It’s nice to see everyone,” I said.

The room replied with jovial greetings, and a few people stood from their chairs and motioned me to their position at the table.

Fain stood and pointed to the chair at the head of the table—the one opposite Zaxis, who sat at the other end. I decided it was probably the most appropriate place for me to sit, so I did. When Adelgis went to join me, Fain pulled out a chair for him, his frostbitten hands a harsh contrast to the golden brown of the wooden furniture.

I wasn’t the only one who had to wear university robes. Almost everyone in the room had opted for either a uniform robe of the students, or one of the many robes for the various instructors. Only Zelfree, Illia, and Zaxis had kept their old clothing, even though they were still stained with the remnants of battle.

Well, that wasn’t true.

Zaxis had decided not to wear a shirt. He wore his trousers, but his salamander scale armor was nowhere to be seen. His guild pendant—the old one he had, that proclaimed he was a phoenix arcanist—was around his neck. And without his armor, it was easy to see how much more muscular he was than me.

I stared at Zaxis and met his gaze. He lifted an eyebrow, his expression questioning.

“No shirt?” I mouthed, not voicing my displeasure.

Zaxis scoffed as he motioned to the god-arcanist mark on his chest. The fierce fenris wolf was around his shoulder, the chains cascading down his arm and around his ribs. It was an impressive mark, but it still seemed odd to eat breakfast shirtless when everyone else was clothed.

Adelgis leaned over as I took a seat. “Zaxis thinks he needs to make it known he’s a god-arcanist. He doesn’t want to live in your shadow.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Volke!”

Evianna bounded over to me, interrupting the conversation. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I gave her half a hug in return. Then she backed away and smiled.

“We have plenty of food for everyone. I didn’t make much—just enough for you. The rest was made by some of the university staff and Atty.”

I glanced over at Atty.

She was beautiful, as always. Her long golden blonde hair was woven together in an elegant braid, and the university robes were stunning on her. She smiled when she noticed I was staring, and I replied with a short wave.

Out of everyone in the Frith Guild, Atty confused me the most. We had grown close before the attack on the Isle of Ruma, but my time with her—as something a little more than friends—had revealed a new side of her I didn’t know what to make of. Now she locked herself away from everyone and everything, barely interacting with the outside world. Did she even know about my relationship with Evianna?

I would have to speak to her. Maybe even convince her to abandon her obsession with having a true form phoenix.

I shook my head. “Wait, why is Atty cooking?”

“She said she needed a break from her magic training,” Evianna said, keeping her voice low. Then she leaned in close to me. “It’s a good thing the staff was here to help, because I don’t think she knows what she’s doing.”

I gave her a sideways glance. “Do youknow what you’re doing?”

Evianna pursed her lips and glowered at me. “I’ve learned a few things, thank you very much!”

She had lived a life in the castle, a pampered princess. I didn’t think it was unreasonable to assume she didn’t know anything about the art of cooking.

From across the table, Nicholin playfully banged his paws on the table, shaking the plates and silverware. “King Nicholin requires food!”

Illia placed a hand on his head, stopping him from banging. “Don’t be rude.”

Nicholin disappeared with a pop and puff of glitter. Then he appeared on the other side of Zaxis. “We need sustenance, woman! It fuels our fight against our enemies!” He spoke every word like an actor on a stage.

Illia glared with her one eye, and her rizzel eldrin shrank a little. With a squeak, he said, “But… I’m basically rizzel royalty. What other rizzel is friends with two god-creatures?”

“Still,” Illia muttered.

Nicholin lay down on the table. “All right.”

Although Hexa sat close to Nicholin’s antics, she didn’t seem interested. She played with a fork by her plate, twirling it and occasionally stabbing it into the wood of the table. She wore student robes, with the sleeves lifted, revealing her scars—the injuries given to her when she had bonded with her hydra.

I had never seen her so despondent. She looked like she would murder the table if it had been a living being.

While eating together was a great stress reliever, I was certain it wasn’t doing anything for Hexa’s mood. Vethica was still missing, and the longer we sat around and did nothing, the longer she was in danger. Unfortunately, we needed our strength, and once we’d had breakfast, we’d hurry to find our trackers.

I glanced over at Atty. “Is the food almost ready?”

She opened the kitchen door, peeked inside, and then smiled. “It seems that way. I’ll help bring it out.” After pushing some of her golden hair over her shoulder, Atty entered the steam-filled kitchen. Her phoenix hurried after, dropping soot as she moved.

Evianna stepped into the shadows and quickly slithered into the kitchen, no doubt looking to grab the food she had prepared. When Atty, Evianna, and the university workers appeared, they were all carrying trays of fine food—enough for thirty people, at least.

They had fresh bread, bowls of warm oatmeal, stacks of fresh fruit, and plenty of milk and water. I thought they would just place everything on the table, but they actually set the trays down on another table and proceeded to serve everyone. The university workers fluttered around as they gave Zaxis his food. Evianna handed me mine—it was just bread and oatmeal, like the rest, but the fruits had been sliced into little star shapes and placed throughout my food.

I liked it.

My face heated when I turned to her and said, “Thank you.”

Evianna’s cheeks were pink as she nodded and took the seat next to me. Fain and Adelgis sat in the next chairs over, followed by Ryker, Karna, Zelfree and Yesna. Then there were empty chairs, and finally Hexa, Zaxis, and Illia.

It felt odd sitting so far from the others.

Fain glanced over and narrowed his eyes at Adelgis. “You all right, Moonbeam?”

“Hm?” Adelgis rubbed at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Overwhelmed by the thoughts?”

“Actually, I’ve been trying a new technique for not listening to multiple people at once. I focus on a single question and think of all the possible answers.”

Fain stirred his oatmeal and poured in some fresh milk. “Like what kind of questions?”

“Well, I was thinking… A person’s life is worth more than a fish’s life, right? If you had to kill one—a person or a fish—you would kill the fish, correct? Hypothetically, of course.”

The question hit Fain like a wet rag to the face. He just stared at his meal, like he had been baffled into inaction.

Adelgis, either not noticing, or not caring, continued with, “But if the choice was either to kill one person or to kill all fish, you would then pick killing a single person, yes? If that’s the case, what’s the number of fish equal to a person’s life? There has to be a number between one and all.” Adelgis grabbed himself a lemon and slowly peeled off the waxy outside. “But it’s difficult to determine the answer…”

“The answer is obviously never kill the person.” Fain smoothed his student robes, obviously irritated with the flowing fabric. “That way, you don’t have to do any calculations. It’s easy.”

“The world’s delicate balance would be thrown into chaos if all the fish died.”

Fain cracked his knuckles and then slowly glanced over at Adelgis. “You ever just think about spending a night with someone, locked in their arms? That’s what most pirates think of when they’re bored on a ship. Trust me—it’s much more amusing than thinking about destroying the delicate balance of anything.”

Adelgis sighed. He stared at his untouched food, frowning. “I suppose I could. But I’m not sure who I would imagine. And given the nature of the thought, and my association with memories and dreams, I feel like I would need to ask permission before I fantasized about a particular person.”

I almost choked on a star-shaped strawberry.

Evianna leaned forward on the table and offered both Fain and Adelgis a glare. “This isn’t a proper breakfast discussion,” she growled under her voice. “Weren’t either of you taught the rules of etiquette? Pleasant, non-personal conversations only.”

“You got us in trouble, Moonbeam,” Fain whispered as he took a small bite of oatmeal. Then he elbowed Adelgis. “And no one ever asks for permission, ya gib.”

“Oh, I know.” Adelgis frowned. “I know.”

The conversations in the room mixed together, making it difficult to differentiate one voice from another. I didn’t pay attention to any one person. I just ate my food, content for the moment to have the time with everyone. Whenever I glanced over to Evianna, she smiled.

“Do you like it?” she whispered.

I had barely tasted my food. My hunger had demanded I swallow everything whole—without wasting time to chew—and it didn’t occur to me until most of it was gone. After Evianna’s question, I forced myself to taste the creaminess of the oatmeal, and the juiciness of the fruit.

“It’s good,” I said. “Very good.”

The shadow around Evianna fluttered, and I suspected her knightmare was just as happy as she was.

I was about to go back to just enjoying my food, but I decided to check in on everyone else. My brother wasn’t a very confident man. I had only known him a short time—I hadn’t even known he existed a few years ago—but since I was older, I felt responsible for his wellbeing.

He sat next to Karna, and the two of them spoke in hushed whispers.

While Karna was wearing university robes, like everyone else, hers were open somewhat in the front, revealing more of her skin than necessary. Nothing indecent, but it was noticeable when compared to Ryker, who wore his robes so tightly laced shut that they almost restricted his movement.

They were opposites in more than their clothing. Ryker’s black hair was like mine. Karna’s hair was spun gold, gleaming and beautiful. Ryker was tall, and Karna was shorter. Ryker was lean, but Karna had the athletic body of a dancer.

With a smile, Karna grazed a finger over the corner of Ryker’s lips. His cheeks brightened to a blazing red, but he didn’t flinch or move away from her. Karna just giggled as Ryker tried to hide his face with a napkin.

I was probably the only one paying attention to them. Everyone else was engaged in their own conversations—and Zelfree was still staring at the ceiling—so the moment was only captured in my memory.

“You should try shifting your shape while eating,” Karna said in a sweet voice. She ran her knuckles over Ryker’s cheek. “It’s amazing, actually. People taste things differently. I think only doppelgängers and their arcanists would ever know that, truly. When I’m myself, strawberries are too sweet, but when I’m Zaxis, for example, they barely taste sweet at all.”

“I-I don’t know,” Ryker mumbled. He ate more of his oatmeal like he was hoping it would save him from the conversation.

“You need to practice more.”

Ryker nodded.

Karna sat a little closer to him, a sly smile creeping on her lips. “You made real progress last night. Just a little more, and you’ll make a full transformation.”

“This breakfast is delicious,” Ryker said, patting his stomach. “You should try.” He lifted some fruit up for Karna, ignoring her statements.

I would’ve continued to listen, but that was when Atty returned with her eldrin.

She took a seat at the table near Zaxis, Illia, and Hexa. Her phoenix stayed close to her, just taking a seat on the floor near Atty’s chair. With delicate movements, Atty ate her food. Zaxis pushed his empty bowl to the side and then leaned his elbows on the table.

“You should teach me your technique for combining augmentation and evocation,” he said. “According to Vjorn, I have two things I can manipulate, and two types of evocation. If I can mix those together, I’ll be one of the most powerful god-arcanists around.”

I stopped eating, my curiosity piqued.

Atty nodded once. “I’d be more than happy to teach you. Now that I’ve done it multiple times, I think I have it down to an art. I’ve been… writing everything down.” She glanced at her hands, and then returned her attention to Zaxis. “I think it’s a good idea that everyone in the Frith Guild learn this technique.”

Attempts to combine the manifestations of magic had been going on for centuries, but all such experiments had failed or resulted in disaster. To my knowledge, Atty was the first to successfully combine two branches of magic in a way that was practical to use. She hadn’t even been trying for such a magic—she had just been obsessed with achieving her true form.

And gaining a true form eldrin was a deeply personal process, which I suspected was Atty’s problem. It wasn’t really her dream. It was her mother’s.

Eldrin were living manifestations of magic, after all. They were forces, concepts, and ideas given living form. When an arcanist’s soul was defined by the same telos as their eldrin’s magic, their bond strengthened and let them touch the purest magic and bring back the smallest piece to let the eldrin become its ideal form.

But that was a vague concept that few understood. Atty was obviously frustrated by the limitation, and her desires didn’t align with a phoenix’s telos.

“We can learn that while we travel,” Hexa snapped. She slammed her fork into the table. “Hurry up and eat. It’s almost high noon. We should be on the road already.”

Before anyone could comment one way or another, the door to the dining area opened. Everyone looked up as two more people joined us in the small room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

TO REGAL HEIGHTS

Devlin and his little cabin girl, Biyu, walked into the dining room.

Biyu was only nine, at the most, but she held herself tall. Like Illia, she was scarred and missing an eye—a dread pirate had taken it from her as well. But unlike Illia, Biyu was bubbly enough to rival a hot spring, constantly talking and jumping from one person to the next.

The moment Biyu joined us at the table, she hurried over to the chair next to Master Zelfree. Her shoulder-length brown hair, silky and straight, flowed behind her whenever she moved. She also wore university robes, but they were too large for her and dragged along the floor. When she took a seat, she pulled a small book from the folds of her robes and placed it down in front of Zelfree.

“I drew more pictures,” she said, pointing to the pages. “Do you want to see? I drew a chimera! You said that was your favorite, right?”

With a sigh, Zelfree sat up and glanced down at the book. “It’s beautiful.”

Biyu playfully pouted. “You barely looked.”

“That’s how beautiful it was,” he said, monotone. “With merely a glance, I was blinded by brilliance.”

Devlin stomped over to the table, placed a heavy hand on Zelfree’s shoulder and then gripped hard. He practically yanked Zelfree from his chair when he turned the man to face him. “Be nice to Biyu.”

“I’m being perfectly pleasant,” Zelfree drawled.

“You need to pull yourself together. I don’t know why you’re so glum, but this isn’t the time.” Devlin leaned in close, his voice a growl I could barely hear. “Do it for the younger arcanists.”

Zelfree grabbed the man’s wrist and jerked his hand off his shoulder. “I’m just tired.” Then he shot Zaxis a glare. Everyone turned to face Zaxis, as if expecting something to happen. “Put on a damn shirt. How many times do I have to tell you that? Why do I have to keep telling you that?” Zelfree stood from the table. “Curse the abyssal hells—kids can’t keep their damn clothes on.”

He stormed out of the room, even though Biyu was holding up her book, trying to show him another picture. Zelfree slammed the door as he went, leaving the friendly atmosphere suddenly chilled.

“He’s so grumpy,” Evianna muttered. “It’s unbecoming of nobility.”

I shook my head. “He isn’t nobility.”

“If he keeps associating with god-arcanists, he will be.”

Her comment gave me pause. I had never thought of it like that. Was it true? It already seemed like it. The university workers were tripping over themselves to serve us food. The last time I’d been here—as just a knightmare arcanist—they had almost denied me access. I hadn’t been worth much then, but now I was everything. Even more important than the queen.

Sometimes it was hard to remember that bonding with Terrakona had changed everyone’s perception of me and the people I associated with.

I stood from my chair, intent on speaking with Zelfree, when Hexa suddenly stood from her chair as well. We faced each other for a moment, but then she shoved away from the table and headed for the door.

“Master Zelfree has the right idea,” she announced as she went. As she passed me, she said, “He’s upset because he wants out of here, too, ya know.” Then—just as dramatically as Zelfree—Hexa exited the room.

Zelfree wanted to leave?

He had made cryptic remarks about dealing with Calisto. I wondered if that was the reason he wanted to go. He wanted to make a detour as soon as possible.

Evianna stood, her shadow fluttering around. “I’m ready if you are.” She glanced at the food on the table, then to me. “You need your strength, so remember to eat as much food as you can.” She scooped up some fruits and held them close in her arms. “Just in case you need a snack later.”

“You don’t have to worry about me so much,” I said as Evianna hurried to my side, her arms filled with apples, cranberries, and strawberries.

She shot me a glare.

That surprised me.

“I can worry all I want, Volke Savan. That’s my right as your significant other.”

I… didn’t know what to say to that. “All right,” I eventually muttered.

The others cleaned up their plates and continued chatting. I opted to leave the dining room. I wanted to speak with Zelfree, collect my sword and shield, and head for Terrakona.

When Evianna and I stepped into the hallway, we were met by an interesting sight.

My father, Jozé Blackwater, and my adoptive father, William Savan, were standing by the hall window, both engaged in deep conversation. I perked up upon seeing them, my eyebrows lifting toward my hairline.

Words failed, however.

Both men turned to face me. Jozé smirked, and William smiled wide. My adoptive father held out his arms and motioned me over. “C’mon now, lad.”

I walked over and gave him an embrace. Last time I’d seen him, he’d been in Fortuna, watching over my estate. He was a large man, his barrel chest wide and solid. I almost couldn’t reach my arms around him.

His thick coat smelled of salt water. It reminded me of home.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked.

William stepped back and rubbed at his smooth chin. “Eventide arranged everything. She requested arcanists to have me brought here. Teleported part of the trip. I see what Illia means about freedom.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Apparently,” William muttered as he leaned close. “They were arcanists associated with a celestial dragon arcanist. Have you see those, lad? Out on the islands to the north? In my navy days, I thought I saw one once. Just once.”

“I’ve seen one,” I said. “I think one’s around here. If you search the garden, you might see it.”

“Is that right?”

Celestial dragons were rare creatures of might and magic, but they were reclusive. I wasn’t surprised to hear that William would be happy to see one. They weren’t combat dragons—just like sovereign dragons weren’t known for fighting—but their ties to magic couldn’t be overstated.

William patted my shoulder. “Everyone wants to be in your good graces. They were happy to jump to Eventide’s requests. I can’t believe how quickly I got here.” Then his expression shifted to something more thoughtful. “It seemed important I get here quickly. Eventide was insistent. Do you know what she wants?”

I held my breath, wondering if I should say anything. Technically, we had several more god-creatures to find. Each of them would need an arcanist. Eventide had suggested William attempt to impress them, but I wasn’t sure if I should say anything just yet. What if he said no? I didn’t want to deal with that without Eventide by my side.

Jozé placed a hand on William’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be explained in time. You saw Zelfree—we should be leaving soon.”

William nodded once. “Hmm.”

My birth father was a tall man, but he walked with a slight limp. His leg wasn’t what it should have been, and while he often had energy, he couldn’t go far. He was a master artificer, though. He had made plenty of magical trinkets and artifacts, and he had even helped to maintain Devlin’s old airship. Before the ship had been blown from the sky.

The arcanist mark on his forehead was a seven-pointed star with a phoenix wrapped around the points. But since arcanist marks didn’t have colors, I didn’t have an easy way to tell his was a bluephoenix, a slight variant of the normal red. Perhaps there was a trick, but I wasn’t privy to it. Blue phoenixes couldn’t heal, but their fire burned anything, even mystical creatures and arcanists normally immune to heat.

“William and I will be travelin’ with you all,” Jozé stated. He offered me half a smile. “Your guildmaster has strong feelings that we’ll meet members of the Second Ascension on our journey.”

“Oh?” I asked, my blood running cold in an instant.

“She says that if we end up killing their eldrin, I should use the parts for trinkets. Since those dastards started using decay dust, every battle has cost valuable items. We need to rebuild our arsenal.”

I nodded along with his words. I had lost a lot of items…

“I’m glad you’re both traveling with us,” I said to them. Seeing them together made me feel strange, but happy.

Evianna stood a little straighter. “Yes. We’re both glad.”

“If you’ll excuse us. Evianna and I are going to collect our gear and then head for Terrakona, out beyond the wall. I’ll see everyone there.”

***

It wasn’t difficult to find my sword and shield—Retribution and Forfend. Zelfree had put them in a safe place within the university. The walk up and down the stairs had taken time, however. Everyone else had left by the time I made my way down to the streets.

The trek to the wall was a short one, but it was relaxing nonetheless. Evianna stayed close to my side, and the sun shone over the city, invigorating everyone and everything. While the stakes were still high, and there was much ahead, I didn’t feel daunted. It was amazing what a little food and rest could do for my spirits.

Terrakona and Vjorn waited for us outside the ruined wall of the city, as did Guildmaster Eventide.

As well as some of the Knights Draconic.

And Queen Ladislava.

And Guildmaster Strenos.

And the pyroclastic dragon arcanist, King Kalasardo, and the celestial dragon arcanist, Emperor Barnett. Their eldrin stood a few hundred feet back, practically glaring at each other. Amusingly, both the rulers wore ceremonial armor. Kalasardo even held an ornate bow—his armor and weapon gilded and basically useless for war, but beautiful when in direct sunlight.

Barnett’s armor was half plate over silk robes, combining the flowing freedom of cloth and the glittering wonder of silver plate over his shoulders and chest.

The two rulers stood out among everyone else. Their personal guard stood nearby, but there were only half a dozen knights. Both nations were small and considered vassal states to the Argo Empire, so it wasn’t surprising they didn’t have as many troops as the empire.

King Kalasardo and Emperor Barnett bowed when I strode over to meet everyone.

The large crowd of important individuals got me a little nervous, but I quickly shook away the feeling. I had dealt with several influential monarchs at this point. I could handle them.

And perhaps I would need to.

Ladislava moved with pent-up energy, her steps stiff and harsh. I could understand. Our rapid departure for Regal Heights had caught even me off guard. Ladislava had planned to bring all her vassals together for a celebration to honor Zaxis—and likely to plant her hooks in him.

Then it dawned on me.

Perhaps that was why Eventide wanted us to leave so early. To avoid this. And Ladislava. If we left on urgent business, to lands in the west, we could meet with other powerful arcanists withoutthe ever-watchful gaze of Queen Ladislava, who was already trying to influence everything.

A caravan of carriages and horses was gathered around the broken gate, enough for most of the Frith Guild. Not everyone was going, however. Yesna, and Gillie the Grand Apothecary had agreed to stay and watch over everything in the city, as well as the apprentices and journeymen arcanists who were still in the city. Captain Devlin had agreed to help move the king basilisks away from the city. His massive roc would make it easy to watch over them from the sky.

Before anyone else could speak to me, Guildmaster Eventide walked over. She smiled, but her expression lacked its usual cheer. The afternoon winds had picked up, and they brought dust and debris from the city as they howled over the walls. Eventide held her gray braid in place as she approached.

“Warlord,” she said with a slight bow. “We’re almost ready to depart. I was hoping to speak with you about the logistics.”

“Sure,” I said.

“I think it would be best if you, Zaxis, Ryker, Karna, Hexa, and Zelfree traveled as one unit.” Eventide motioned to Terrakona. “The world serpent and fenris wolf can easily carry you all to Regal Heights. You’ll reach the city long before any of us on horseback will.”

I glanced around, confused by the selection. “Are you sure?”

“You, Zaxis, and Ryker need the most training.”

She said the statement with no hesitation.

I replied with a curt nod.

“Ryker hasn’t developed much of his magic, and Zaxis needs to learn his as quickly as possible.” Eventide exhaled. Then she straightened her patchwork coat, fixing it after the breeze had rumpled it up. “Zelfree has done a good job helping you along, and I think he and Karna can still help Ryker. However…”

“He wants to bring Calisto,” I said, knowing where this was going.

Eventide met my gaze, her smile long gone. “That’s right. Can I trust you to watch him?”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to trust me?”

“Forgive me. What I mean is—can I trust you to handle a situation where Calisto might try to harm you or anyone else in the Frith Guild? I need to know that someone won’t hesitate. Zelfree obviously wants to help him, and I’m not sure that’s possible, but I’m not about to stop him, either.”

“I’ll handle it,” I said.

That was when Eventide’s smile returned in full. The smile lines around her eyes crinkled. “How do you feel about reading?”

I tilted my head slightly at the odd question. “What?”

“Reading. You can do that while riding a giant serpent, can’t you?” She patted my shoulder. “Of course you can.”

She motioned to a woman who stood nearby, but somewhat out of sight. She wasn’t an arcanist—she had no mark on her forehead—and she wore the robes of Skarn University, so I assumed she was a scholar in training. The woman walked over with two large tomes.

“These are books the queen had gathered by the city’s researchers,” Eventide stated. She pointed to the thick pages and old bindings on the leather covers. “Apparently, these tomes have some information on the previous god-arcanists, but they’re in the form of old tales, poems, and stories. It’ll take some time to put the information all together into something useful.”

“I can do that,” I said, unable to hide the elation in my voice. I practically snatched the books right out of the woman’s hands. “I’d love to.” Then I frowned. “Did… the queen give these over willingly? She seemed upset the last time we spoke.”

Eventide slowly lifted an eyebrow. “I have plenty of friends at Skarn University. Let’s just say I checked these out before the queen did.” She offered me a mischievous grin. “I don’t plan to have ego hinder our efforts.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I understand. Thank you.”

Eventide chuckled and then bowed her head. “Thank you, Warlord. I’m counting on you to find trackers capable of locating the Second Ascension.”

It was an important task, and I wasn’t about to fail. No matter what, we’d find them, and stop them in their tracks. I held the books close, intent on traveling to Regal Heights as fast as Terrakona and Vjorn could handle.

Once Eventide had stepped aside, I headed for my eldrin. On the way, King Kalasardo stepped forward. He bowed deeply.

“Thank you, Warlord,” he said. “You have the support of Nuul, my glorious kingdom. If ever you need our arcanists or knights, I shall provide them.”

The emperor also stepped forward. “And you will have my magic. The island nation of Sellix is the home of celestial dragons and relickeepers—we are experts of the arcane, and while we prefer to keep to ourselves, you are welcome to cross our borders at any time.”

I gave them both a slight bow of head. “Thank you. I appreciate the support.”

“I was worried Queen Ladislava wouldn’t be the best ruler for the Argo Empire, but with your support, I believe this will be a glorious age of prosperity.” Kalasardo rubbed his golden armor and smiled. “May your travels be safe, and the Death Lords far from your door.”

Barnett straightened himself. “Swift travels, Warlord.”

I left the two of them, but I had more energy in my step. Meeting so many powerful arcanists was invigorating. And they had welcomed me into their nations without a second thought. I hoped I would prove them all right and show them what I was made of.

Zaxis was already next to his massive fenris wolf. Illia stood by his side. She wasn’t coming along, so I suspected she was just there to wish him goodbye. They embraced for much longer than I had expected, and at a point, I had to turn away.

Ryker, Karna, Hexa, Zelfree, and Calisto stood by the world serpent. Raisen, the six-headed hydra, was also by the group, his large body low to the ground, like an alligator. He was bigger than a horse, but much slower. Terrakona could carry him, but I worried about the weight.

“No need to worry,” Terrakona said telepathically. “I can carry the load.”

Karr, Karna’s doppelgänger was also here. It was surprising, because I normally didn’t see Karr around. He kept out of sight—or looking like someone else—and I wondered why he was being so blatant.

Ryker’s bizarre eldrin, the Mother of Shapeshifters, kept herself as a mouse. The other pieces of her body were nowhere to be seen. I suspected they might have been birds, which would travel easily alongside us. That was for the best. It would be weird to see the world serpent covered in white rodents as we traveled around the countryside.

Traces, in her little cat form, was easy to carry with us.

Calisto…

He stood near Zelfree, his copper hair bright in the afternoon light. He didn’t look at anyone—he never met a single gaze—and wore nothing but simple boots, a tunic, and trousers. Had they given him the outfit after he had left the dungeon? They were a dull color and ripped at the hems.

A pair of manacles was all he had for his hands. They weren’t made of nullstone—that wasn’t needed—but they were solid steel.

If he tried to hurt anyone…

That was when I thought about Evianna. She wasn’t one of the people traveling first to Regal Heights with the god-arcanists. I turned to her, my brow furrowed.

“It’s all right,” she said matter-of-factly. That was when she handed me a satchel. She had packed it at the university full of the fruits she had taken from the dining room. “I’ll see you soon enough. You take care of yourself, maintain a noble demeanor, and make sure to remain confident in your skills.”

“Thank you,” I said as I hooked the satchel over one of my arms. The books were difficult to balance, but I managed. “Stay close to the group. Stay safe. Don’t go anywhere by yourself.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “I’m not weak. I can—”

“I can worry all I want,” I interjected. “That’s my right as your significant other.”

Evianna opened her mouth like she was ready to go off on a tirade, but then she swallowed her words. Her cheeks grew pink, and her mannerisms fluttered. Then she hugged me—only a moment—and hurried toward the other members of the Frith Guild, like she couldn’t stay and speak to me anymore.

“Warlord.”

“Yeah?” I turned on my heel and faced Terrakona. His giant serpent head created a pool of shadow, blocking out some of the afternoon sun.

“Can I bring the dryad, Foil?”

“Of course.”

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out. “Thank you.”

I patted his snout, no words needed between us. Terrakona could be remarkably gentle for a creature that could eat five men whole in a single bite.

“Let’s get everything together and head out,” I muttered. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

From what I could remember, Regal Heights was at least 500 miles from Thronehold, and we would be traveling through some rocky terrain. It would be at least two weeks for those on horseback. How long would it take Terrakona and Vjorn? Likely less, but we would see.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

LEGEND OF THE TYPHON BEAST

Traveling atop Terrakona wasn’t the most comfortable means of transportation, but it was better than horseback. I could fit myself in the crystal lattice of Terrakona’s mane. My feet fit between some of the rock-like structures, as if they were meant to be footholds. The only problem was the sun. The lack of clouds left me without shade, and I sweated more than I had ever in my life. Shouldn’t I have been immune to sweating? I supposed it was both the physical movement, and the unrelenting sun that did it.

Terrakona tore across the land, moving at speeds shocking for a creature his size. Watching the terrain gradually shift and feeling the roaring wind against my skin more than made up for any discomfort.

The others riding along with us were on Terrakona’s back. They hung on to his scales as we traveled across the land, heading for the border of the Argo Empire. Terrakona was large enough that everyone could sit and relax, but they also didn’t have any shade.

Everyone would be sweaty by the time night fell.

As I watched the world blur past, I noticed that Zelfree and Hexa exchanged words frequently throughout our travels. Although I couldn’t hear their words, Hexa seemed to calm down the longer we went, the burning rage and desperation fading to steely determination. Zelfree’s sage advice always had that effect on me.

From my experience… grief, when shared, was lessened, and joy, when shared, was multiplied. Zelfree had gone through his fair share of loss. Almost everyone he had loved had died. If anyone could help Hexa calm herself—so she could focus on helping Vethica—it was Zelfree.

I had feared that Calisto would cause problems at some point during our travels, but he never did anything. He sat on Terrakona, barely holding on to the world serpent’s scales, his gaze on the horizon in the distance. Without his manticore magic, was he even really a threat?

Karna and Ryker sat farther down Terrakona’s back. They were close—talking in quiet voices—and always had something to discuss. Were they talking about Ryker’s magic? I hoped so.

The islands of my birth were to the north, but Regal Heights was to the west, near the Rocky Wastes. The forests of the Argo Empire grew thinner and thinner as we traveled west, replaced with grassy fields and then foothills covered in rocks. Terrakona easily slithered across the ground. The earth moved aside for his massive body, and then reformed once Terrakona was gone.

The closer we got to the western canyons, the more the grass faded to stony earth. Regal Heights was a massive city built on the edge, and down the side, of a gigantic canyon. The crack in the ground was so wide, dragons could fly in it and their wings wouldn’t touch the sides.

The canyon was called Hydra’s Gorge, and for good reason. It was one of the few places in the world that hydras called home. They hid in caves around the gorge and gobbled up anything—or anyone—who wandered into them. The goats and canyon prawns were a hydra’s preferred meal, but they could devour all sorts of things.

I had never been there before, and I couldn’t wait to see it with my own eyes.

“A massive canyon…”

Terrakona’s telepathy made me smile. “Are you excited, too?”

“It seems familiar. Epic and catastrophic.”

I held my breath as we traveled, the wind whipping through my hair. When I was atop Terrakona’s head, it was easy to see a great distance in every direction. I took in the sights while my thoughts mulled over his statement.

“You think the canyon exists because of a catastrophe?” I asked.

“It may have been created by the last world serpent arcanist.” Terrakona growled, and I felt the reverberation from his throat travel up through the crystals of his mane. “A battle may have happened there. Something legendary.”

While that sounded amazing—and I wished I knew for sure—I didn’t have any way to tell.

Then it struck me.

I had used Evianna’s satchel to hold the queen’s books. There were old poems and stories within! Perhaps one was about a canyon. I decided to find out. With giddy energy, I yanked a book from the satchel on my shoulder and cracked it open to the first page.

I had plenty of time for reading…

***

I only found one tale about a battle, but it was so interesting, I read it a dozen times. It was a tale about the mighty typhon beast.

The Thirty-Seventh Stratagem

Powerful was the typhon beast. Terrible was his desire for war. Outrageous was his lust for magic. Lawless was his attitude toward nations.

Monster.

That was the title given to the typhon beast’s master. He was a savage who did what he wanted, whenever he wanted. The typhon beast and the Monster had no court, no people, no great creation. Only destruction. Only pain. Only horror.

When arcanists approached the typhon beast, they pleaded with the Monster, and asked that he quell his fury. But the typhon beast and his master would not listen. The beast’s hundred heads chattered among each other, causing madness in any who listened. And when the beast wasn’t chattering, the beast’s heads breathed fire worse than the volcanos. It was a fierce serpentine beast, alien and bizarre, capable of regrowing heads that were cut from its colossal body.

So the arcanists called upon the Warlord.

But the Monster had no love for reason or logic. When the Warlord approached, they argued ten days and ten nights. On the eleventh day, when they had no agreement, the typhon beast attacked without warning—a dastardly tactic.

A normal arcanist would have surely perished, but the Warlord fought the Monster, despite his crippling injury. Their battle devastated the land and changed the very region. But the typhon beast was deadly. No creature compared to his might—to his hundred heads.

But the beast had a weakness.

It was heavy and could not fly.

The Warlord knew this and used it against the typhon beast. During the final hours of their fight, when the typhon beast was slow with fatigue, the world serpent opened the ground wide, and the typhon beast fell. The Monster crashed to the bottom and had no hope of escaping.

And the typhon beast lived there until the end of his days.

The tale intrigued me for multiple reasons. According to the tale, the typhon beast sounded like a hydra. Well, more powerful than a simple hydra, but similar nonetheless. Additionally, the first world serpent arcanist had apparently trapped the Monster and his eldrin in a canyon.

Was this a record of Hydra’s Gorge? Was this how it had come into existence? It seemed that way. It would explain the presence of the hydras. They could be some sort of descendants of the typhon beast, or perhaps they had traveled to the canyon because the beast’s body was somewhere within.

That was an interesting theory.

What if we found the old typhon beast, and used its body to create trinkets and artifacts? According to the tale, the typhon beast was frighteningly powerful.

“We have the runestone for the second typhon beast,” I muttered to myself, thinking of the future.

“That is true,” Terrakona replied. “The red jasper runestone will open the way to the typhon beast’s lair.”

What if it appeared near the canyon?

I shook my head and rubbed at my temples. Who would we have bond with the beast? It was clearly a creature of chaos. Would someone like William be accepted? I somehow doubted it.

“We should focus on the task at hand. Problems of the future will arrive when they arrive.”

“All right.” I patted his crystal mane. “But it’s something we should decide before we search for the lair. I don’t want to enter the lair without someone we’re confident in.”

“Understood.”

I glanced around, staring at the many passengers on Terrakona, including Raisen, the hydra. The giant reptile clung to Terrakona like a bear on a tree. His six heads were practically wrapped around Terrakona’s side.

Raisen really didn’t like to travel.

But he wasn’t the one I was looking for.

“Where’s your dryad?” I asked.

“Here.”

The tiny girl-shaped plant poked her head out of Terrakona’s mane. Her flower eyes were a little startling, but I quickly recovered. With a slight smile, I waved. She waved back. And then she disappeared back into the mane.

“How much longer?” I shielded my eyes from the sun and glanced to the horizon.

“When darkness falls, we shall stop.”

“All right. Until then, I’m going to continue reading.”

***

When the sun began its descent, Terrakona slowed his pace. It allowed Vjorn to catch up with us. Unlike Terrakona, who shaped the earth and dirt as he went, Vjorn had to run across the land, avoiding the obstacles. It didn’t tire him, though. Vjorn had endless stamina that seemingly sprang from nowhere.

Terrakona finally came to a stop near a grouping of trees by the edge of a small creek. We could boil the water and eat some of our provisions for dinner, and the nearby field would provide us the room required to train.

The perfect spot.

Terrakona lowered his head, and I slid off his snout and landed on the ground. His tongue flicked out for a moment, and I chuckled as I patted the side of his serpentine head. The little dryad also tumbled out of his mane and landed in the dirt. As quick as a grasshopper in a field, she disappeared from sight, burrowing into the ground.

Everyone else dismounted and got to work setting up a temporary camp. We wouldn’t be here long, but it was always nice to have a fire and bedrolls ready. Normally, Zaxis would set up the fire… But of course, he no longer could. Zaxis seemed to realize this once he reached for the kindling. He tossed one of the sticks away from the camp and stomped over to the creek, no doubt to get water instead.

I wished Illia had traveled with us. She would’ve calmed him down. Instead, I would just leave him alone, and hope that he worked through his frustrations before returning to the group.

The others milled about, their energy low after a day of travel. Zelfree led Calisto over to one of the nearby trees and had him sit. Then he removed the manacles—an odd choice, but I wasn’t going to fight it. Zelfree was a competent man.

Ryker and Karna stood near each other, muttering about the local scenery.

With my manipulation, I rearranged the ground around us, smoothing out the terrain and making it more pleasant. I pushed the grass away from our eventual firepit, and scattered the rocks near the creek, leaving us with sand and soft dirt.

Ryker watched from a good twenty feet away, never blinking. He held MOS in his hand, her red mouse eyes examining my every movement. Her nose twitched when I made a pit for the fire and even surrounded it with clay and stone.

Within a matter of minutes, we had the perfect camp for our perfect spot.

“Impressive,” Ryker said with a hint of awe.

I half-shrugged. “It wasn’t thatamazing. The story I just read claims the first world serpent arcanist created Hydra’s Gorge in a single attack. This is nothing compared to that.”

Hexa, who hadn’t been paying much attention to anything, suddenly perked up. She jogged over to my new firepit and stood at the edge. With wide eyes, and her puffy hair free from its ponytail, she asked, “You really think so?”

Even Raisen lumbered over, his giant body leaving a furrow in the ground where his stomach slid across it. With my magic, I felt the disturbance in my perfectly made camp. For some reason, it bothered me. After he moved, I used my manipulation to fix it again, though it wasn’t really necessary.

“Yeah, it seems that the gorge was made during a fight,” I said. “A battle with the typhon beast because his god-arcanist was a lawless lunatic.”

Hexa—back in her normal coat and trousers—rolled up her sleeves to show off her scars. Then she flexed a bit and pointed to the gnarly gouges. “All hydra arcanists get scars from their Trial of Worth, but in Regal Heights, we have these legends about how canyons are the scars of the land, and our scars are a reflection of the canyon. It ties us to our homeland.”

I nodded along with her words. “Well, on the Isle of Ruma, we talk about canyons in the ocean. The schoolmaster taught us that the entrance to the abyssal hells is always found in a canyon. If you believe it’s possible to reach the place, that is.”

That was when Calisto lifted his head a bit, his eyes more alight with life than I had seen in the last four days. He glanced over to me as he leaned back on a birch tree. “Is that right?”

“It’s a legend,” I muttered. “And canyons on the ocean floor are impossible to get to unless you’re an arcanist who can breathe underwater.”

“Hydra’s Gorge doesn’t have any water,” Hexa said, her attention on her scars as she traced some of the lines. “You probably can’t actually get to the abyssal hells that way, though.” Then she glanced up, an eyebrow raised. “Right?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, it’s just a legend. And some people don’t even believe the place is a physical location.”

“It’s a physical location,” Calisto cut in, his voice gruff. “Just like the Death Lords are real arcanists.” He closed his eyes as he rested his head on the bark of the tree. “If one of you would just end me, rather than playing at this ridiculous parade of draggin’ me from one city to the next, I’d finally get to meet one.”

“Just do it yourself if you’re that desperate,” Hexa snapped. She took a seat next to the pit, shooting a glare in Calisto’s direction. “Nobody cares about your wishes.”

Calisto, unfazed by her taunts, just replied, “You don’t get to meet Death Lords if you kill yourself, lass. So, one of you weak-spined arcanists needs to finish what you started. Then you won’t need to listen to my wishes any longer.”

“You don’t deserve any mercy from us.”

“You know who also isn’t gettin’ any mercy? That khepera arcanist the Second Ascension took. They might cut her up to study the extent of her healing powers.”

“What was that?” Hexa stood and whirled around in one quick motion.

Raisen flared his scales, his six mouths open and venomous gases leaking from his fangs. When he stomped forward, he offered a chorus of growls.

Zelfree stepped between them, one hand up. “Stop. Stop, dammit. He’s just goading you into fighting—it’s what he wants.” Zelfree walked over to Hexa and motioned to the firepit. “Sit down. Don’t listen to him.”

“We should just tie him up and gag him,” Hexa said through gritted teeth.

Calisto chuckled, unafraid of her threats or venom. If he wanted death, Raisen would definitely serve it to him quickly.

“Who’s the khepera arcanist to you, anyway? You’ve been upset by her disappearance for days.” Calisto scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “She your lover?”

“Yes,” Hexa stated, heat in her voice. “And if you say anything about her again—”

Zelfree narrowed his eyes into a glower.

“—I’ll make sure you live a very long time,” Hexa hastily concluded, obviously conflicted about her threats. She huffed and took a seat by the firepit. Raisen slammed down next to her, and five of his heads wrapped around her body in a protective circle, his snake-like necks easily coiling in a tight embrace. The venomous gas eventually dissipated.

Calisto’s appearance hadn’t improved from his time in the Iron Dungeon. He hadn’t really groomed himself in a few days. He slicked back his copper hair, crossed his arms and ankles, and just waited, returning to a lethargic state. Apparently, talk of the abyssal hells still excited him, but little else seemed to liven the man. Even death threats.

Probably for the best. At long as he didn’t provoke someone into killing him, the trek would likely be without incident.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

RYKER’S TRANSFORMATION

The sky blazed orange, red, and purple as the sun set in the distance. Zaxis stood away from the group, watching as it happened. I didn’t disturb him. His fenris wolf had lain amid a grouping of trees, his frosty fur blending in the harsh shadows, though he was too large to disappear from sight.

Ryker had gathered wood, and I lit it with my molten rock. It wasn’t the best fire—everything was lopsided, and the wood was burning faster than normal—but it would have to do.

While Hexa, Zelfree, and Calisto stayed near the flames, I took my brother away from the group and out into the nearby field. For some reason, Karna accompanied us. Her doppelgänger—who I swear had been nearby just seconds ago—was now nowhere to be found. He was a trickster, all right.

Ryker held MOS in one hand, the cute little mouse staring up at him with beady red eyes. He patted her head and brushed her white fur.

“Are you ready?” I asked him once we were in the middle of the field.

Ryker shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the others near the fire. “I’m not sure I want an audience.”

“They’re not going to pay attention to you,” Karna said with a smile. She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, and Ryker practically flinched. “You need to relax, or you’ll never develop your magical abilities.”

“W-Well, it’s awkward having a dread pirate in our midst.”

“Trust me—the pirate doesn’t care about you.” She walked her fingers up his perfectly smoothed shirt and then tugged on the collar. “He’s too wrapped up in his own trauma to care what you’re doing. This is the perfect time to practice.”

“You talk like you know him.”

Karna smirked. “Oh, I know him. Probably too well.”

“A-Ah. Well, you did tell me you ran with questionable crowds at one point.” Ryker fidgeted for a moment, and then glanced down at his uneven collar. He fixed it before saying, “Maybe you should talk to the pirate. And distract him.”

“I guarantee that the only person who’s going to distract him already is.”

“Hexa?”

Karna half-laughed and then glanced over to the firepit. She subtly pointed. When I snuck a peep in that direction, I caught sight of Zelfree talking to Calisto. The pirate wasn’t talking back—it wasn’t a real conversation—but Zelfree was saying something, and he seemed enthusiastic about it, at least. Occasionally, Calisto turned his attention to him.

Hexa wasn’t even looking at them. She held her hydra close, and warmed herself, and likely her spirits, by the lopsided fire.

“Zelfree knows him well,” Ryker muttered. Then he sighed. “But still. It’s difficult imagining my powers. What if I only half transform, and then I’m too nervous to untransform, so I’m stuck as a hideous monster?”

Karna slowly lifted a perfect eyebrow. Her hair gleamed in the sunset, practically merging with the dusk. She wore a loose tunic and flowing pants—not her normal, revealing outfit, which would probably not have helped with everyone’s overall concentration.

“Let me help you,” MOS said. Her voice was ancient and feminine, almost otherworldly. I always forgot what she sounded like until she spoke again—it was as if I heard her voice for the first time whenever we spoke.

Ryker patted her head again. “I don’t know…”

“Perhaps if I am confident in my own skin, you will be confident in yours.”

Her cryptic statement wasn’t helping anything. What did she mean by that? And how was I supposed to help? I was about to suggest that Zelfree come over here, but a flock of birds stole my concentration.

Small birds—blue jays, all of them—flocked toward us from a distant grouping of trees. Their white underbellies and bright blue wings were slightly off color in the sunset lighting. They flew at surprising speeds, reaching us before I could comment on their bizarre beauty. Then the birds dove and circled, practically a whirlwind of feathers and beaks.

They landed on the field, and in an instant, merged together, shaping their bodies like warm clay around one another, growing larger with each additional bird. They lumped and clumped, forming a ball of flesh that writhed on its own. I had to hold my breath and steel myself as the mass of meat became more disturbing with each additional blue jay.

The Mother of Shapeshifters was a thing of nightmares. Her uneven body pulsated and undulated, her outside devoid of skin. It seemed like she was wet with blood, but like a newborn covered in vital fluid, not like someone with an injury.

Her glistening exterior caused my stomach to churn. I took a step away, trying not to flinch.

Then Ryker’s mouse leapt into the ball, and a pair of eyes “surfaced” on the creature.

She was larger than an elephant and bloated enough to be filled with the blood of a hundred men. I preferred her as mice or birds or rats.

Karna kept her composure, but the corners of her mouth struggled to remain upright. Ryker stared at his own eldrin with a furrowed brow.

“Are you sure you should be like that?” he asked as he approached her massive fleshy body. “What if someone sees you?”

“I am safe with two god-arcanists,” MOS replied, her ancient voice just as calm and confident as before. Now she was just louder.

“But aren’t you… disgusted by what you look like?”

Karna tensed—only for a brief second. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been looking in her direction. With subtle movements, she backed away from Ryker, her hands unsteady until she crossed them over her chest.

“Young arcanist,” MOS said. “The realm of appearance is now yours to control. You needn’t fear the judgment of others ever again. And even if the fear crept back into your thoughts, please remember that those who ridicule and mock your appearance are like frogs with brightly colored skin. They have given you a warning. They are vile and filled with poison. Not you.”

Ryker slowly nodded along with her words, his gaze on the grass around his feet. For a long while, he said nothing. He just waited, his breath held. Then he swallowed hard and glanced up at the mass of flesh. “You… aren’t afraid?”

“I am not.”

“I wish… I had your confidence.”

MOS jiggled a bit, still glistening in the sunset. “Then allow me to give you my confidence.”

Everyone remained still and silent for a full ten seconds. I glanced over to Karna, hoping she would know what that meant. She met my gaze with an identical expression. She clearly wouldn’t have any answers for me.

When Ryker didn’t reply, MOS’s body contorted and changed. A small hand reached out from her bulbous body, its little fingers stretching out for Ryker. My chest tightened as I readied myself for something to happen. What was MOS doing?

Ryker, hesitant and fumbling, slowly reached his hand out to take MOS’s. Her little fingers were half the size of his. When they connected, it was like Ryker was shaking hands with a child.

Then MOS yanked his hand, pulling him closer.

Ryker gasped and stumbled forward. MOS yanked harder, and Ryker shouted as he collided with the wet ball of muscle, membranes, and fatty tissue. I stepped forward, my hand on Retribution, wondering if I would have to cut MOS to help my brother.

Then… Ryker was absorbed into the Mother of Shapeshifters, like an insect sinking into tar.

“What in the name of my grandfather’s diseased left foot was that?” Hexa called out from the firepit.

She and Zelfree hurried over, everything else forgotten after… whatever had just happened.

Then Zaxis and Vjorn turned their attention to the commotion, both obviously confused as to what was happening. They approached, but slowly, their gazes shifting to our surroundings, like we might be under attack.

Zelfree dashed over to MOS and frantically glanced around her. “Where is he?”

MOS shook and writhed, her body flattening and expanding, the muscle twisting in on itself.

“Wait,” I said, my heart beating hard. “Let’s… back up. Give her space.”

MOS had never been malicious. Whatever was happening, I felt it must have been beneficial to Ryker. Somehow. I just didn’t know how. Despite feeling like I had just been smacked in the face by a wet fish, I decided to wait for the moment.

Terrakona craned his head over all of us, his bright eyes observing the event.

The sun finally set, blanketing us in darkness. In that short moment, in which the world was darker than before, a chill came over the area. MOS twisted and grew into a distinct shape. Four legs erupted out of her body, followed by four serpentine necks with hydra heads. Flesh condensed into layers of purple black scales, each of which glowed with a radiant, raging power.

The heads roared and thrashed about, their voices out of sync and screeching at different times. I pulled Retribution from its sheath and hesitated, concerned, but still willing to trust MOS.

She contorted and puffed outward until finally she was an awkward hydra beast, twice the size of Raisen, and somehow with more muscle, longer fangs, and thicker scales. Her heads shrieked, brutal and savage. It was as if an ancient ancestor of the hydra had risen from the grave, awakened from a primordial era in which only power ruled.

Hexa stared with wide eyes, her eldrin close by her side, the same look of concern on all six of his reptile faces. After a short while, Hexa blinked away her shock. Then she approached, her steps slow but obvious. The four-headed monster hydra wobbled a bit, but didn’t attack.

And then the new hydra collapsed to the ground. It burst into a hundred bats, each one black, furry, and with large wings. They chirped and flew off into the night, scattering like a flock of startled animals. I lifted my sword, shielding my eyes as they all rushed off toward a distant grouping of birch trees.

Ryker was left on the grass, shaken and stunned.

A single bat remained by his side. Its red eyes glowed enough to see in the dark, and it sat on Ryker’s knee, its wings tucked in close to its body.

“Wow,” Karna said, a nervous laugh in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Hexa motioned to the bats. “Did any of you see that? The transformation? The bats afterward? That was… That was unbelievable. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

For a long moment, Zelfree just stared at the field of grass around us. With a sigh, and a slump of his shoulders, he turned back toward the firepit. “Eh. I’ve seen weirder.”

He wandered back to his spot in camp and took a seat, like nothing had even happened. Calisto, who had just watched from afar, barely seemed interested in the bizarre event that had just taken place.

Ryker trembled. He was covered in… viscous fluid. It clung to his shirt, his black hair, his tanned skin—everything. He looked like he had been dragged through a barrel of saliva.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I jogged over.

He managed to nod once. “I… Uh…”

I knelt next to him and almost put a hand on his shoulder, but I decided against it when I saw that a glob of clear liquid jelly was there.

“I was one with her,” Ryker finally managed to say. “We. Us. Together. And, uh, I was also a hydra. I think.”

Karna sauntered over, swaying her hips as she went. “Mighty impressive for someone who can’t seem to master transforming.”

“I barely did anything.” Ryker turned his gaze down to the bat. “It was all… MOS… She just did it. And, uh, together, we were…”

“You wanted confidence,” MOS said, her voice small again, but still laced with age. “I had hoped you would will us to transform, but if you need my will, I will control the situation.”

“I…”

“Together, we can mimic the magic of nearby mystical creatures. And improve them. My magic is vast—not like the god-creatures, but unique. I am descended from the progenitor behemoth, and am capable of great things.”

I sheathed my sword, unsure what to do with the information. That seemed like a useful ability. If Ryker could get the confidence to use it more than not at all. Normally, mimics only mirrored the creature they transformed into. MOS could gain more power, it seemed. And Ryker could fight with her?

Like a fleshy… knightmare…

Or a muscly reaper.

Either way, if he could master it, that could come in handy. Ryker could win most one-on-one fights. Well, not with a god-arcanist, but likely any others.

Karna knelt and wiped the bizarre fluid off Ryker’s clothing. He flinched at her first touch but calmed afterward and allowed her to work.

“It’s disgusting,” he muttered. “You don’t have to do that.”

She offered a smile. “The correct thing to say is thank you.”

Ryker’s face reddened and then he whispered, “Thank you, Karna. I’m sorry for—”

“No. Just thank you. You don’t need to say anything else.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ZAXIS’S MAGIC

After the sun went down, Ryker and MOS stayed in the grassy field. I watched them for a short while—as did Karna—just in case something else went weird. Nothing horrific happened, but Ryker discovered an odd ability.

MOS, as a bat, turned back into flesh and then “merged” with Ryker, adding to his muscle. It was a small change and confined to just one arm, but he could notice a difference in his strength. While I remembered what it felt like to fight merged with Luthair, this kind of merging seemed abstract and foreign to me. It was like MOS was… moldable flesh. She could be anything.

And now that she was bonded with Ryker, she could grow in power. Could they become anything? People? Mystical creatures? I was interested to see her limitations, but that would have to come in time, and with plenty of practice.

Ryker ripped off MOS’s tiny amount of flesh and added it to his other arm. The malleable tissue became muscle. Then he was a bit stronger—with the other arm. It was disturbing to watch him peel her away again and try another location, but I didn’t want to comment. Ryker didn’t take those kinds of observations well.

“Your eldrin is powerful,” I said as Ryker slowly peeled her off his bicep.

He chuckled and gave me a sideways glance. “Not as powerful as yours.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just shrugged. “You should still be excited. I would be.”

“Hm.”

Karna walked between us, her movements dancer-like. She did a little twirl and placed a hand on Ryker’s shoulder. “Volkie, you don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll watch Ryker. You should go see your new wolf friend, hm? He seems lost over there.”

We all glanced over to find Zaxis standing by the edge of the creek. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since we had arrived, and he had kept his eyes to the ground after Ryker’s jarring transformation. What was he waiting for?

“Is lost the right word?” Ryker whispered. “It doesn’t seem right.”

Karna touched a finger to her bottom lip. “Did I say lost? I meant pouty.” She crossed her arms and shook her head. “It’s not a good look for him.”

“I’ll handle it,” I said.

No one protested as I walked out of the field and returned to our camp. Ryker and Karna remained behind, no doubt to train more. Or perhaps talk. Karna had definitely taken a liking to my brother, and I debated with myself whether or not I should give her a speech about treating him right. Ryker was technically an adult, but he was still my little brother. On the other hand, I barely knew him, and he could take care of himself.

I still hadn’t come to a conclusion.

I walked by the fire and stopped to check if the hastily made flame was still properly contained. Spending so many years with phoenix arcanists, as well as learning my new powers, had given me a healthy respect for fire. There were no embers outside the pit, no logs being left out of the flame. Hexa and her hydra were already asleep at the edge of the fire’s glow. She was curled up on Raisen, despite his prickly scales. How did she do that? I swear, she could sleep on a bed of broken glass without much difficulty.

Zelfree and Calisto sat at the base of a tree, neither talking nor moving, even as I approached. But when I went to walk by, Calisto lifted his head and gave me the once over. With keen eyes, he seemed to take note of my sword and shield.

“Everything okay over here?” I asked, staring at Zelfree.

He returned my gaze with narrowed eyes. “In the morning, we need to head northwest. Just a short distance.” Zelfree didn’t even bother to answer my question.

“Very well.” I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that all? Your detour won’t take us too long, will it?”

“Only half a day’s travel, at the most.”

“Where are we going?”

“Have you ever heard of the Rocky Wastes?” His tone had shifted to something serious and cold.

I nodded once. “I’ve heard of it. Luthair told me about a time he and Mathis chased a criminal into the wastes. It apparently didn’t end well for anyone.”

“That’s because it’s dangerous. I was hoping we could travel to the edge, and then you and I—and Terrakona—could travel into the interior, beyond the Shrieking Peaks.”

My knowledge of the territory wasn’t vast. All I knew was that the Rocky Wastes were a desolate land. Barely any plants grew there, and no nations claimed it as their own. The only people who traveled there were mystic seekers—arcanists hired by nobles and royals to catch rare mystical creatures and bring them to civilization. Or sometimes relocate them.

And occasionally kill them for trinket and artifact parts.

“What’s there?” I asked. “Why visit at all?”

Zelfree shot Calisto a quick glance. They exchanged neutral expressions. Then Calisto huffed and turned away. “I don’t know what you’re scheming, Everett, but stop this charade. It sickens me. Every minute I’m here is like a dagger shoved straight into my damn kidney. I keep hoping I’ll bleed out, but you never let me.”

“I’ll tell you all about what we’re looking for when we get to the Rocky Wastes,” Zelfree said to me, never acknowledging Calisto’s comments.

“Fair enough.”

I left them and headed toward the creek. Terrakona shifted his massive serpentine body, and I glanced over my shoulder to watch him positioning himself in a tight coil. If anyone came through the area, they would surely notice his towering body, but hopefully, it wouldn’t frighten them too much.

And I also hoped the Second Ascension wasn’t waiting in the shadows, ready to attack with some new weapon that we had yet to deal with. I shivered as I thought of terrible possibilities.

The sooner we ended them, the better I would sleep at night.

Zaxis waited at the water’s edge, his hands in his pockets. He wore a button-up shirt, but it wasn’t buttoned at all. His god-arcanist mark was impressive, but was it worth suffering through the chill? Or perhaps he didn’t feel it, since his new powers seemed to be drawn from the heart of an endless winter.

I stood next to him and awkwardly folded my arms and then unfolded them. “It’s a nice evening.” That wasn’t the best opening, but I wanted to keep it casual, in case Zaxis was dwelling on dark thoughts. “So, you want to practice your magic?”

Zaxis didn’t say anything. He stared at the quiet waters flowing in the creek, his face set in a hard neutral expression, like he was clenching his jaw just barely. I wasn’t sure how to interpret that.

“It can be difficult at first,” I said. I tapped my hands together, trying to remember my first few days. “I was feeling really alone, and isolated, and I thought of Luthair nonstop.”

Still, Zaxis didn’t say anything to me.

“But, uh, I got better the more I learned all my new powers. Oh! And there’s something important you should know. You have two versions of your evocation, manipulation, augmentation, and aura.”

“I know that,” he drawled. “I helped you train, remember?”

“Er, right. Sorry. I was just… excited to tell you. Well, I think, given what happened in the fenris wolf’s lair—”

“Volke.”

Zaxis’s interjection caught me off guard. I stopped my speech and turned to face him. “Yeah?”

“I think I’d rather do this on my own.”

“What on your own?” I asked, glancing around.

“Learn my magic. I want to do that on my own.”

The sky sparkled with stars overhead, giving us enough light to see clearly. The moon reflected in the small amounts of water, and the shimmer of the tiny ripples was like a poem of nature. I wished I could enjoy it more.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I finally said. “I already went through the most difficult parts—learning about god-creatures, and how to use the magic—and I think you’ll learn it faster if I just teach you.”

Zaxis glanced over, his eyes narrowed. “There’re only supposed to be twelve of us, right?”

“God-arcanists? Yeah.”

“And each creature is unique and special and powerful in its own regard?”

I nodded once, already knowing where he was going with this.

“Then I should discover my own powers,” he stated. “You did. Which means I can, too.”

I rotated my shoulders and then sighed. “This isn’t a competition. We’re on the same side. Let me help you.”

“Listen—some things are better if they’re learned on your own, okay?” Zaxis growled something under his breath, his whole body tenser than before. He turned away, unable to look at me. “Nobody teaches you how to make love, do they? You just do that on your own.”

I rubbed at my hot face. “Th-This is different, and you know it. We’re supposed to be a team! We’re fighting the Second Ascension together. How am I supposed to know what your capabilities are on the battlefield if you just train off in secret?”

“It doesn’t have to be in secret.” Zaxis wheeled on me, his hands still in his pockets, but his arms stiff. “I just want to do it without your help, okay? I want to do it on my own, just like you. You can watch, but I don’t want any advice or insight or you telling me how it is. I just want… to figure it out.”

Someone stomped over, their footfalls registering with my tremor sense long before I had heard them. I turned and spotted Hexa walking over, a deep frown on her face. When had she woken? Had she heard Zaxis and I fighting?

My tremor sense came easier now… I hadn’t even realized I had been using it.

Hexa stormed over to Zaxis’s side and punched him in the shoulder. Hard. He didn’t flinch or grimace. He just turned away with a huff.

“Hey,” Hexa said. “When someone offers you a hand, you take it, shake it, and move on with your life! Pride doesn’t help anyone, okay? That’s what Vethica says all the time, and she’s right.”

Zaxis shook his head. “This isn’t just about pride.”

“We don’t have time for whatever this is, then! We need to find Vethica—we need to stop the Second Ascension—and we have to do it as fast as possible.”

A deathly chill washed over the area, creating an icy fog that blanketed the creek and nearby field. A shiver ran the length of my spine, and I felt Vjorn moving as he shifted through the cold clouds that had wrapped around us. With silent steps, he made his way closer, until he was fifteen feet away, still hidden by the mist. I wouldn’t have known he was there if it hadn’t been for my magic.

“Hunter,”Vjorn said, a growl in his voice. “Shall I remove these two?”

A sudden mix of anger and concern radiated from Terrakona. Waves of heat clashed against the mist, and the air crackled as the potent magics clashed.

I shook my head. “Whoa, whoa. It’s not like that. I won’t force Zaxis to train with me. Everyone, calm down.”

Hexa scoffed and stepped away. “I think you’re being damn selfish.” When Zaxis didn’t reply, she stomped off into the fog, heedless of where the fenris wolf was hiding.

A moment later, Terrakona evoked magma and heat enough that the fog burned away in an instant. The bright glow of embers from his mouth were enough to draw everyone’s attention. Vjorn was revealed, his wolf form by the river, his eyes narrowed in a glare at Terrakona.

My eldrin wasn’t prone to violence, but he was making it clear that he didn’t appreciate threats. I suspected Terrakona would attack without hesitation if I were actually in danger, and for that, I appreciated his presence.

I exhaled. What was I supposed to say to Zaxis? I understood his desire to do things on his own. I had wanted the same after I had lost my eldrin. Our magics didn’t seem to overlap—except when it came to power. Vjorn seemed fierce, and I was sure Zaxis would be able to wield the full devastation of a blizzard one day.

“Well, just let me watch you train, okay?” I asked.

Zaxis snorted.

“Hey.”

He glanced over. “What?”

“I’ll let you crush me in a sandpit or something, like I did to you. Ya know, to make it even between us.”

After a short moment, Zaxis cracked a smile. “Oh, yeah? What if I bury you in snow?”

“That works.”

He chuckled, and I felt better afterward. One of the things that concerned me was the cryptic statement the queen had made. She had said there were tales of rivalry between the fenris wolf and the world serpent. Was it because of the god-creatures, or was it because of the previous god-arcanists and their personalities?

I hoped Zaxis and I would be great partners in this. He was with Illia, my sister, and we came from the same island. We often butted heads, but whenever I needed him, Zaxis was there. He was a good and loyal friend, someone I would be happy to call brother. Why wouldn’t we be good allies? It was in the stars, surely.

“Give me a bit,” Zaxis whispered, his attention once again on the water. “I’ll train in the morning. Until then, I just want to think about… things.”

“All right.”

I patted him once on the shoulder and then awkwardly ambled away, not sure what else to say. Zaxis didn’t acknowledge me. That was fine. He seemed better now than before. Much better.

***

We took turns for guard duty throughout the night.

Zelfree went first.

Then Zaxis.

Then me.

Everyone else slept peacefully. Well, not everyone. When I woke for my shift, I noticed Calisto sitting next to the fire, awake enough that the flames reflected in the glossiness of his eyes. I left him alone, though, and went to sit near Terrakona. My tremor sense would tell me if anyone was approaching, even in the dead of night.

The evening chill wasn’t too bad. A comfortable breeze swept over the area, carrying dust and dryness. Nothing like island weather.

Although Terrakona was on the edge of sleep, he telepathically spoke to me.

“The Children of Balastar are reckless,” he said, his voice distant.

“Oh, yeah?” I sat on the ground and flipped through the books that Eventide had given me. “There are a few mentions of the god-arcanists’ names in these poems. One of them is about Balastar.”

“You are a child of his line…”

“Hm.” I kept my lantern close, but the shutters mostly closed, so that I wouldn’t wake the others.

Balastar had been the first fenris wolf arcanist. Apparently, I was distantly related to him. Distantly. Everything I had heard about him was that he had been reckless and wouldn’t be swayed from his path. Sort of like Zaxis. He was a Child of Balastar, as well.

I wanted to find more information about Luvi, the first world serpent arcanist. I had met him. Well, not really. I had met his illusion. He seemed intelligent, and kind, but also determined, just in a different sense. He had set up a fortress just to give me a message, because he had known that one day I might need it.

Luvi’s planning and long-term strategies amazed me.

But as I flipped through the books, it was obvious all the old tales and poems written about them were from before the appearance of the apoch dragon. Most of the stories spoke of the Warlord and the Hunter and the Scholar as though they were still alive, or wandering the world, or building a family somewhere. But I knew that wasn’t the case.

All the first god-arcanists were dead.

Five of them had died to fighting each other, and the rest had died when the apoch dragon had appeared. It had killed them all—because it had been time for the age of god-arcanists to end.

Not everyone knew that. The god-arcanists had lived so long ago, that most things about them were long forgotten, or now just myths and legends.

I liked solving the mysteries of their lives. I wanted to know more—I wanted to understand my eventual fate. In a way, I had signed my own death warrant when I had bonded with Terrakona. But did it have to be at the hands of the dragon? Was there no other way? Sometimes I wondered.

Calisto stood. I felt the shift of his weight across the dirt.

With a chill in my veins, I closed my book and also stood. It was dark, and the flicker of the distant fire was easy to see, but once Calisto walked off—into the shadows of the night—my eyes couldn’t make out his form. Fortunately, they didn’t need to, but I still worried about his motives.

I strode through the shadows and followed Calisto at a distance.

Everyone else was asleep. What was he up to?

Then he stopped at the creek. I waited, wondering if he would do something. After a few minutes, I decided to approach. I didn’t want to linger in the darkness like a craven stalker.

Calisto slowly turned to face me when I approached, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He seemed tense—his stance wide—and I placed my hand on the hilt of my blade.

“Has the Warlord come to check up on me?” he sarcastically asked. “Good news. You caught me gettin’ into trouble.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CALISTO’S SECRETS

“What’re you doing, Calisto?” I asked as I quickly glanced around the area.

It was just us. The splash of the gentle creek added a quiet backdrop, but otherwise, the music of the night echoed between the trees. Chirping crickets, an owl, and the hum of wind reminded me this was a peaceful area, even if Calisto’s presence tainted that feeling.

“I told you what I was doin’,” Calisto said, irritation in his voice.

Even though he wasn’t bonded to a manticore anymore, Calisto was still a large man. If it came to a fight, he could still hold his own. His lack of magic would be his undoing, but what if he fatally stabbed someone? I couldn’t take any risks.

I kept my hand on the hilt of Retribution. “I’m not playing games. I’m keeping a close eye on you.”

“I bet.”

His dark delivery didn’t sit right with me. Nothing about him seemed right. It felt off—like he wasn’t himself. I wished I had Adelgis’s ability to read minds. What was Calisto thinking?

I could guess.

“Listen,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I’m not going to let you hurt anyone. Especially not Zelfree. So if you think you can force my hand—force me to kill you—by hurting someone, you’ve got everything wrong. I can lock you away in a cell of stone anywhere we go.”

To my surprise, Calisto smirked. He narrowed his eyes as he asked, “What makes you think I’m gonna hurt Everett?”

“You always do.”

For a prolonged moment, Calisto said nothing. He just stared—no reaction to my comment—but the tension between us couldn’t be any thicker.

“You don’t need to worry this time,” Calisto drawled. “I’m not gonna hurt Everett.”

“He killed Hellion,” I stated. “You’re telling me you’re not thinking about revenge or—”

Calisto snorted, cutting me off. “He didn’t kill Hellion.”

“Yes, he did.” I forced a laugh. “I was there. I know you’re still suffering from the shock of everything, but once you get your wits back, Master Zelfree and Illia are at the top of your list for revenge. Admit it.”

Calisto’s icy gaze drifted to the ground. He stared for a long while at the dirt by the creek. “Everett didn’t bring Hellion to a fight between gods. I did.” Calisto clicked his tongue and smiled—but it had no mirth behind it. It was a dead smile, no life whatsoever. “Everett didn’t train Hellion to never surrender, no matter the circumstance… I did.”

I caught my breath, unsettled by the cold statements.

“I brought Hellion to thugs with deadly intentions. I didn’t fight with Hellion, even though I knew I should have. I sold myself and my crew for magical power, even when Hellion said it wrong.”

Calisto took in a ragged breath as he returned his gaze to meet mine.

“Illia might’ve killed my man, Markus, but I was his captain. I disregarded his feelings. I made all the wrong choices. I wasn’t there for those who relied on me—for those who trusted me.”

I had no words. What was I supposed to say? He was wrong?

He wasn’t.

“I…” Calisto ran a shaky hand over his chin, his voice becoming quiet. “I don’t deserve to live. And we both know it.”

I wanted to agree with him, but I had promised Zelfree I wouldn’t just kill the man. But it felt odd to hear Calisto lay out his sins in order, and then decide he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Most people never wanted to admit they did anything wrong.

Calisto grabbed the collar of my shirt, tearing me from my thoughts. I tightened my grip on Retribution, a second away from unsheathing it. Calisto jerked me forward. And with his other hand, he grabbed the hilt of my sword, like he would attempt to take it from me.

I grabbed his arm with my free hand, but Calisto never followed through. He just waited, staring at me, the two of us locked in a tense stance.

Calisto narrowed his eyes and smirked. “No one would blame you,” he whispered. “Tell them I tried to take your sword. They’d believe it. I stole your blade once before—and we all know it’s deadly, even in the hands of a man without an eldrin.”

His heart beat faster than before. I felt it through the slight tremors in the ground. My chest twisted with indecision, my breath held in my throat.

He was right. No one would blame me if I cut him down.

Calisto tightened his grip on the collar of my shirt. “Everett’s a fool. He cares about Lynus, but I’m not that man anymore. But you… You hate me. I know it. Just end this. Run me through—I would’ve done it to you, if I’d gotten the chance.”

I gritted my teeth and then used my manipulation to rearrange the terrain. I shifted the ground around Calisto’s feet, throwing him off-balance. When he stumbled, I hit him in the gut with the hilt of my blade. He slammed to the ground, and before he could stand, I twisted the dirt into a quicksand trap. Once half his body was submerged, I hardened everything into stone, trapping him.

His heart raced faster than before, but Calisto never fought back. He just waited—one leg and arm half trapped in rock, and his waist locked to the ground, like he had been laced there.

Calisto glanced up at me. “Well?”

“I’m not going to kill you.” I sheathed my blade. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

He exhaled and tilted his head back until his copper hair rested in the mud near the creek. “Damn you to the abyssal hells. Is everyone here a wagon wheel?”

“I think you’re afraid,” I said.

That statement silenced Calisto. He didn’t move. He just remained semi-trapped by the rock, his gaze on the stars overhead. “Death doesn’t scare me.”

“I didn’t say you were afraid of dying. I think… you’re afraid of living.” I stepped closer and sighed. “You could’ve actually tried to take my sword, but instead, you stopped. You’re afraid, aren’t you? You’re afraid you’re too weak to take it from me. Without your manticore magic, you’re slower, and not as powerful. And I think that frightens you.”

Calisto didn’t reply.

“I think all the terrible things in your life scare you as well. But you always thought you’d escape the consequences through death. You never planned on living beyond the battle at Thronehold. You were tired then—you had nothing to live for. And now you’re just saddled with regrets, and it’d be easier to leave it all behind.”

Calisto snorted and laughed once. “Yeah, well, you’re right, lad. Ya got me. I want death because it’s easier. For me. For you. For everyone. Do it already.”

“Zelfree thinks he has a way to help you,” I said with a sigh. “So we’re going to do that first.”

“Everett’s insane. He thinks he can kill Calisto but leave Lynus alive.” Calisto chuckled to himself, his gaze stuck on the sky. “We both know that’s not possible. And every minute that I live is torture.”

“Well… consider the torture your punishment for failing Hellion and Markus.”

Calisto tensed, his heart still beating fast, even if he didn’t betray that fact through his expression. He had no words for a reply, just stunned silence. I wondered if he was dwelling on that—and a small part of me hoped his life was a torture. He did deserve it.

I waved my hand and manipulated the ground to release Calisto. Even after I freed him, he remained on the ground, lying on his back. He seemed more tired than ever—no energy for anything.

“Let’s go back to the firepit,” I said as I offered him my hand.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move.

I waited, my hand outstretched. At first, I thought he wouldn’t move, but to my surprise, Calisto tensed, lifted a hand, and allowed me to help him to his feet. He staggered a bit, but eventually, he stood straight and sighed.

Without any words between us, we headed to the firepit. Calisto was covered in dirt, and his hair had some leaves in it, but otherwise, he looked normal. Or at least, as normal as he could look.

When he sat by the small fire, he did so with slow movements.

I grabbed my books and returned to the pit, intent on reading, but close by, just in case Calisto wanted to talk. I still didn’t care for the man, but for Zelfree’s sake, I would try to keep him from sliding too far into the despair.

The rest of the evening passed without incident.

***

In the morning, I manipulated the creek to extinguish our fire.

Manipulating water was the destructive side of my manipulation. According to Terrakona, water eroded everything in its path. Rivers sliced through mountains, tsunamis devastated islands, and floods crippled civilizations—ruining crop soil and forever changing the landscape.

Water manipulation was powerful, and while rearranging a lake, river, or bay couldbe helpful, it was mostly a tool for carving away life. People could live on land, but they couldn’t breathe underwater. Water was a quick killer, even if everyone needed it to live.

Although I hadn’t given it much thought, I leaned more toward mastering land manipulation. Once I mastered it, though, I would lose the ability to manipulate the water…

But then my ability to change the terrain would be beyond powerful.

The others packed their blankets, bedrolls, and tools. Zaxis packed his things on the back of Vjorn. Zelfree managed to throw a couple of bags onto Terrakona.

Ryker and MOS were the only ones not participating. My brother stood off to the side, using a piece of MOS’s flesh to practice his magic. He grafted it to one arm, and then ripped it off to place it on his neck.

Hexa half watched, her eyebrows close to her hairline. “That’s freakish.”

Ryker nervously laughed. “Uh, yeah, well… It’s a little odd, I admit.”

“Freakish,” Raisen muttered, his six heads all frowning. His reptilian tail lashed back and forth. “I don’t like it.”

“Don’t listen to them.” Karna sauntered over and placed her hands on Ryker’s shoulders. “You might become one of our greatest fighters.”

“That would be a plot twist,” Calisto said with a snort and a laugh.

Karna fluffed her blonde hair and shot him a glare. “You’re talkative this morning. Have a good night?” She glanced between Calisto and Zelfree.

“Better than your best night with the flesh-blob arcanist,” Calisto quipped.

Hexa and her hydra turned their anger on Calisto in one swift moment. She stormed over and shoved him toward Terrakona. “No more commentary for you. Get on the serpent. We’re leaving.”

Calisto chuckled—adding to Hexa’s anger—but he complied with her demands by sauntering over to Terrakona. For some reason, he did seem to be in a better mood, but it wasn’t by much.

I wondered if Zelfree had spoken with him, or if our conversation last night had shifted Calisto’s perception of the situation. But I didn’t waste much time dwelling on the matter. There were more important things to think about.

Once Zaxis had finished packing, he grabbed his salamander scale armor from a pack and stared at it. For a long while, he just touched the scales, his fingers grazing over the bindings. Then he stuffed the armor away and opted to just wear his trousers and unbuttoned shirt.

I walked over, my arms crossed. “Hey, uh, before we leave, aren’t you going to practice your magic?”

Zaxis grimaced as he turned to face me. With a frown, he said, “It can wait. Until we stop again.”

His fenris wolf snorted. Frost went everywhere. It melted as quickly as it came. I shivered once, and then the chill was gone.

“You said you’d practice in the morning,” I said. “I think it’s important that—”

Zaxis gritted his teeth. “Fine. I’ll try. Just… stand back.”

I did as he wanted and took a few steps back. When I glanced over my shoulder, I realized everyone else had stopped their packing just to watch. All six of Raisen’s heads stared with bright golden eyes. Traces leapt up to Zelfree’s shoulder, and the two of them watched with scrutinizing gazes.

Karna, MOS, and Ryker waited by Terrakona, observing from a safe distance. Hexa kept close to Calisto, like she was guarding him—ready to silence him if he got too uppity again.

Now with everyone’s attention squarely on him, Zaxis walked out onto the grass and sighed. He swung his arms loosely at his sides, and then rotated his shoulders, likely warming up. I waited with bated breath, wondering what he would do. He would likely evoke ice, but since the fenris wolf had illusions in his lair, I thought it was possible Zaxis could evoke that as well.

Or perhaps the illusions were a manipulation? A manipulation of perception? I didn’t know, and the curiosity was killing me.

Zaxis lifted his hand, and everyone tensed. The heart rate of everyone nearby sped up, the excitement as thick as smoke.

But for a long moment, Zaxis didn’t do anything. He just kept his hand up.

It reminded me of when I had first tried to evoke terrors as a knightmare arcanist. Maybe he was struggling to evoke anything?

“Don’t worry, it’ll happen,” I said.

Zaxis shot me a glare. “I said I could do this on my own.”

“I know. I was just talking aloud.”

He grumbled something as he returned his focus to his magic. For another long minute—which passed in silence—Zaxis kept his hand up in place.

Right as it seemed everyone was about to return to their packing, Zaxis waved his hand in an arc.

He evoked a tiny gush of icy wind, akin to a cold fart.

Calisto laughed and shook his head. Hexa immediately shot him a glare, but it didn’t faze him.

With a shrug, Calisto said, “It’ll be amusing to watch you all fight the Autarch.”

The mere mention of the Autarch got everyone’s attention, even Zaxis’s.

Technically, I had seen the Autarch. But only once. I had been immobilized, and unable to say anything. The Autarch and his gold kirin had issued orders to members of the Second Ascension. No one had questioned his decisions or judgments—they had gone along with his orders as though they had been binding law.

“You know the Autarch?” Hexa asked, her brow furrowed.

Calisto glanced down at her, a hint of amusement in his expression. “That’s right.”

“And you’ve seen him fight? You know we can’t beat him?”

“I’ve never seen him fight.” Calisto shrugged. “But I don’t need to. The man has more trinkets and artifacts than people have rice in their lunch bowl. His eldrin—that damn gold kirin—empowers creatures bonded to him, and last I heard, he went straight to the abyssal kraken’s lair in order to get his owngod-creature. It was supposed to be his second, but the Warlord beat him to the real prize.”

I held my breath, my gut twisting into knots.

That must’ve been the light I had seen in the sky. The one out in the ocean. The abyssal kraken. According to legend, it dwelled in the abyssal hells. Had the Autarch gone to the depths and back? Beyond the first, second, and third abyss? It seemed… impossible.

I closed my eyes, my thoughts buzzing. The god-creatures spawned in a specific order, but apparently, they had started appearing at the height of the arcane plague, which meant several already had lairs around the world.

Which number was the abyssal kraken?

The first was the world serpent.

The second was the soul forge.

The third was the fenris wolf.

The fourth was the sky titan.

The fifth was the garuda bird.

And the sixth… was the abyssal kraken.

That meant six of the twelve god-creatures had already spawned. And the Autarch had bonded with the kraken? We had to make sure the others didn’t fall to the Second Ascension.

“We don’t know if the abyssal kraken bonded with the Autarch,” Zelfree said to the group. He motioned everyone over to Terrakona. “And it’s best not to dwell on it. We should head out—we can practice more magic later.”

The news of the Autarch had obviously unsettled everyone. They worked slower this time, putting everything away with little enthusiasm. I didn’t blame them.

Someday we would face off against the Autarch.

It was inevitable.

CHAPTER THIRTY

ZELFREE’S DETOUR

Terrakona took us across land much faster than any horse.

We headed in the direction of the Rocky Wastes, making great time. I sat in Terrakona’s mane again, allowing the wind to style my hair. We quickly left the trees behind and found ourselves crossing rolling hills of grass and sand. Vjorn raced alongside Terrakona as much as he could, but occasionally, he slowed a bit. He was still young, after all.

At one point, Vjorn’s ears perked, and he leapt at a wild sheep that had wandered far from its herd. Hexa pointed and laughed, one of the few times she did so on the entire trek. I chuckled as well. It had been amusing to see a legendary god-creature act like a puppy and pounce on an unsuspecting sheep. And the sheep’s reaction upon seeing the massive predator bearing down on it… The poor little guy had evacuated his bowels at record-breaking speed.

Then I remembered Terrakona’s speech to me—how the god-creatures didn’t need to eat, because ambient magic sustained them. They could eat, but it wasn’t required. Which was good, because their massive forms would require hundreds of sheep a day to maintain if they were normal animals.

A flock of birds followed us at a distance.

The Mother of Shapeshifters.

I tried not to look at her. If I stared too long, even at the birds, I remembered my brother’s transformation, and then my stomach flipped. That had been an event that would haunt my dreams for weeks to come.

Red rocks appeared amid the grass. A few at first, then by the dozens. As the sun began to set, we reached the edge of an unusual desert—the sand was as scarlet as rubies. The twisting of the dunes created blazing crimson swirls as far as the eye could see.

Speckles of white poked through the scarlet sands. They were bones.

Black trees, devoid of leaves, dotted the landscape. They were dead.

I had seen the Amber Dunes, and that desert had been one of unforgiving heat, but this one… This desert felt different. This was a desolate wasteland. There were no lizards or cacti, and the winds kept the area chill.

I didn’t like it.

Terrakona stopped at the edge of the red sands and then hissed. His voice was loud enough to disturb the nearby dunes.

“Terrakona?” I asked as I patted his head. “Is everything okay?”

“Corruption is here,” Terrakona telepathically said. “Something taints the land.”

“Do we need to be worried? Is something here?”

“Listen to the magic. The arcane plague dwells here.”

I caught my breath and waited. The winds brought ice and a foul scent. Although I wasn’t certain it was the plague, I felt a terrible sting in the air.

“This is the Rocky Wastes,” I muttered.

“A horrible place.”

Zelfree slid off the back of the world serpent, careful to bring Calisto with him, and then motioned for the others to follow suit. Karna leapt off, elegant and graceful. When Ryker almost slipped, she half-caught him and steadied him on his feet.

Traces remained on the world serpent. She curled into a little ball and yawned. Then she turned back and licked at her shorter tail.

Vjorn and Zaxis arrived a few seconds later. Just like Terrakona, Vjorn stopped at the edge of the sand and lifted his massive head. The chains around his body clinked as he shifted his weight between his four paws.

“The corruption is here,” the fenris wolf growled.

Zaxis leapt off his eldrin and landed hard. Then he strode over to Zelfree and exchanged a few words. It was only after their conversation that Zelfree left Calisto.

Once ready, Zelfree climbed back on top of Terrakona and then pointed into the Rocky Wastes. Although Terrakona was hesitant, he moved forward as soon as I urged him. The red sand moved aside as the world serpent advanced, just like any other terrain.

The bones and dead trees littered throughout the sands gave me pause. I kept my attention on our surroundings, concerned about the plague. It couldn’t affect me or Terrakona, but what about Zelfree? Traces couldn’t transform into a world serpent. And if there were no other mystical creatures nearby, she couldn’t transform into anything. They’d be vulnerable in an attack.

As Terrakona slipped through the sands, I turned around. “What’re we looking for?”

“There’s a collection of black boulders out in the sands,” Zelfree said, pointing. “Berry bushes grow on top of the rocks. That’s what we’re looking for.”

“All right.”

Sand made it difficult to feel vibrations. The shifting of the desert was a hum in my mind, disturbing my ability to “feel” everything around us. Terrakona glanced from side to side occasionally, especially when there was a slight pulse of movement below the surface of the desert.

“There are creatures nearby,” he telepathically said.

I gritted my teeth, confused by their presence.

Zelfree clung to Terrakona’s back, his attention on the horizon. He called up to me, “There are falak and ghouls nearby. At least three of each.” His mimic magic allowed him to sense nearby mystical creatures.

But falak and ghouls?

Well, the falak made sense. They were giant desert snakes—gold in color, and with double tails. Their mouths could open wide enough to swallow someone whole. From what I had read, they hid underground, waiting for a chance to strike from the sand.

But the presence of ghouls didn’t make much sense to me.

Very little was known about how they came into existence, but I had never read about ghouls being in the desert before. From what I understood, they dwelled in dark forests, far from sight, and often near small villages with large graveyards.

There weren’t any forests for miles, and no towns or villages were located in the Rocky Wastes.

A loud scream dragged me back to the present. Terrakona stopped and flared his scales. I stood and held Retribution close. But I didn’t see anyone. The second scream—just as loud and prominent as the one before—traveled over the desert, carried by the winds.

“What is that?” I asked aloud.

Zelfree pointed to a few rocks that were circular in shape with a hole in the middle. “The Shrieking Peaks,” he said. Then he pointed to a few mountains in the distance, each one made out of the circular rocks. “Whenever wind goes through the hole in the rocks, it creates that screeching noise.”

Terrakona and I waited.

Sure enough, the moment the wind went through the rocks, another scream sounded across the desert. It was an unnerving sound—like a young woman caught in terror—and I didn’t care for the rocks at all. Why were they here?

“What a disturbing noise,” Terrakona said. “When you become more powerful, I vote you come here and rearrange these peaks, Warlord.”

I patted Terrakona. “Yeah. After this is all over… That’s what we’re going to do.”

Terrakona resumed our journey, even as the distant peaks screamed and wailed. Part of me wondered if someone was out in the desert, actually crying out. No one would ever know. Everyone would just assume it was the Shrieking Peaks. What a sad way to die.

Just as the sun started to disappear in the distance, filling the sky with as much red as the desert sand, I spotted the black rocks. Plants grew atop them, and for a brief moment, I thought I recognized what they were.

Charberries.

A charberry tree grew on the Isle of Ruma, atop the Pillar, which was a stone in the middle of the island. Phoenixes loved charberries. But these were bushes? Clearly, they weren’t charberries, even if they grew atop rocks, just like the charberry tree.

“What are those?” I asked, calling down to Zelfree.

“They’re sinberries.” Zelfree sat straighter, and Traces leapt to his shoulder. “Head straight over to the rocks. We don’t want to step on the sand. We’ll climb off and gather as many berries as we can.”

Terrakona snorted as he headed straight for the rocks and bushes. I held on to his crystal mane, my brow furrowed. I had never heard of sinberries. Did they only grow in the Rocky Wastes? And only on these rocks? Or could they be found in other areas?

It didn’t take us long to reach the rocks. When we drew near, I realized the “rocks” were more like boulders. They were the size of a two-story house, and wide enough for a full barn to rest on top of them. The sun was still setting as I leapt off Terrakona and landed on the nearest black boulder.

Then I almost slipped. The rock wasn’t rough or coarse—it was as smooth as glass. And the bushes growing on top just had their roots wrapped around the sides, holding them in place. What were the roots even feasting on? What sustained these sinberry bushes?

Zelfree and Traces also leapt onto the nearest boulder, but only after Terrakona lifted his midsection so they could reach.

“Don’t touch the berries with your bare hands,” Zelfree said as he approached one of the massive bushes. “These berries are born of corrupted magic.”

I frowned and glanced around, searching for a source of the corruption. But I didn’t see anything. “What happened to the wastes?” I asked. “Why are they like this?”

Zelfree stared at the bushes for a moment. Then he replied with, “I’ve heard several legends, but they’re just tales. Corrupted star shards fell here. A battle between Death Lords took place here. The king of these lands killed himself and placed a curse on the very soil. Take your pick—whichever sounds the spookiest.”

I chuckled as I turned to him. “The spookiest, huh?”

“This place isn’t to be taken lightly. Everything is out to mess with you.”

I nodded once, taking his warning to heart. Then I stared at the boulder beneath my feet, the dull glitter of magic more sickly than stunning.

The nearby bushes were over seven feet tall. Hundreds of berries grew on the branches in clusters. They reminded me of raspberries—they were small, had the shape of mini-grapes, and each one looked fuzzy.

They were an odd mix of dark red and purple, similar to bruised flesh. They also smelled of oil—a disgusting combination.

I tucked my hands into my sleeves before I reached for one. “Why are we collecting corrupted magic?”

Zelfree pulled off his coat and used it like a basket. He gathered dozens of berries at a quick rate, his sleeves dotted with red and purple juice. “Sinberries taste disgusting, smell terrible, and are difficult to swallow.”

“Yum,” I sarcastically said. “I can’t wait to dig in.”

“Don’t be a fool.” Zelfree shot me a glare. “If you eat these, you’ll lose your memories.”

I froze mid-pick. With a single berry held in my sleeve, I turned to him. “What?”

“The memory loss is only temporary,” Zelfree said with a sigh as he threw a dozen more berries onto his coat. “Once they’ve gone through your body, your memories come right back. But it’s still disorientating.”

“Why are we gathering these?”

“I got the idea while we were in Thronehold.” Zelfree plucked a few more berries, but his rate had slowed. “All the mystical creatures who were resurrected don’t remember anything. Their mannerisms and behavior reminded me of the sinberries. I had seen them for sale in port once. I used them on someone—it doesn’t matter who—but long story short, it wasn’t a useful tactic for gathering information. After that, I never really thought of them ever again. Until now.”

I stopped and faced him. “That doesn’t explain why we’re gathering them.”

Zelfree also stopped, his eyes narrowed. “They’re for Lynus.”

The moment he said that, everything made sense.

Zelfree wanted to erase Calisto by taking away Lynus’s memories. If Lynus never remembered he was a dread pirate, would that really allow him to escape the horrors of that past? I had never thought about it.

“So, what?” I asked. “You’re just going to make Calisto eat sinberries for the rest of his life?” I glanced around, the red desert all around us. “How often can we come out here? How long will the berries last after we pick them?”

Zelfree chuckled as he grabbed a few more berries. “Get serious. I’m not about to feed these berries to him every day. I’m…” He stopped and stared at a single berry, glaring at it like it was the source of all his problems. “I’m going to make something permanent.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet. The Second Ascension made their decay dust, didn’t they? That dust is used up in order to get a permanent effect. What if… I made something with the sinberries? Something that would permanently steal someone’s memories?”

This seemed like an extreme solution to Calisto’s problem. Would it even work? And what would happen afterward? Would Calisto be free of any consequences because he couldn’t remember any of his crimes? Was that even fair?

I didn’t know.

I had told Zelfree he could do what he wanted, but I had never imagined thiswould be the path we took.

“What if this doesn’t work?” I asked.

“Then I’ll think of something else,” Zelfree muttered as he gathered a couple more berries. “I always do.”

“Do you think this is right?”

Zelfree offered me a sideways glance. “I’m not really a guy who follows all the rules.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Is that something you should be teaching one of your apprentices?”

“You’re not my apprentice anymore.” Zelfree finished up his picking and then scooped up his coat. “I’d say you were my equal, but that’s not really true, is it?” He stood straight and lifted an eyebrow. “Are you saying I shouldn’t do this? If the Warlord tells me I can’t, then I won’t.”

I held my breath for a moment. Then I shook my head. “No. I wasn’t saying that. I just… I wonder if this is right.”

“I want to help him, but I don’t have many options. He’s… He’s not making things easy.”

While I hated Calisto, I understood Zelfree’s frustration. Zelfree didn’t have any options outside of death. And losing one’s memories was similar to death, wasn’t it? It seemed like a philosophical question I didn’t have the appropriate answer to.

In truth, some of my apprehension came from the fact that I had seen the mystical creatures in Thronehold. They had been missing their memories. They had wandered the ruined roads, confused and alone.

“Terrakona,” I whispered. “You don’t think that can work on me, right?”

“I would assume you are immune to corruption.”

But he didn’t say for sure.

Another scream filled the air, followed by manic laughter.

The shrieks no longer bothered me, but the mirth sent chills down my spine.

A plague-ridden creature was nearby.