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Chapter 485: Renegotiation

ARTHUR LEYWIN

The city of Everburn looked small against the sprawling foothills that climbed consistently toward the base of Mount Geolus. Although I could no longer see the small garden we had just left, I could feel Tessia’s mana signature even among the thousands of more potent auras. ‘Be careful, Arthur,’ Sylvie repeated as I sped away, flying at Kezess’s side.

Kezess himself did not speak. I had experienced his silent treatment before, and had already shown him that I wouldn’t simply sit and wait for his attention like one of his servants. He may choose to keep Windsom waiting for hours or even days if the other asura upset him, but I wasn’t one of his servants, a member of his clan, or even an asura. I owed him no allegiance.

With King’s Gambit partially powered, I was better able to think through the potential results of our conversation. I couldn’t see the future, but I could read the small movements of his body—the tics of his face and his mana signature—and pull from everything I knew about Kezess, both from our previous interactions and what I had learned in the keystone, all at the same time and at greater speed than I would otherwise be capable.

And yet this magical enhancement to my cognitive abilities also served to drive home how dangerous my situation now was. My family, Tessia, and Sylvie were in Kezess’s power, and it was well within his character to use them as leverage against me. I had delivered his greatest enemy and threat to him on a silver platter; he hadn’t even had to raise a finger, just come to collect Agrona’s unconscious body. Most dangerous of all, though, was what I now knew. The cycle of manipulation and genocide the dragons perpetrated against my world had gone on since before the asura even left it, and given his long life, it seemed highly likely that Kezess himself had been responsible for the destruction of more than just one civilization.

“What progress have you made with Agrona?” I asked to break his stony silence.

He looked askance at me as we flew, his expression calculating. He was considering whether to answer at all, no doubt. In the end, though, he elected to answer after a pregnant pause. “He remains mute.” There was a brief hesitation, and I thought he might go back to giving me the quiet treatment, but then he asked, “What did you do to him, Arthur? I need specific details. This seems…unnatural.”

I considered what had happened, and how much I could safely tell Kezess. Or even wanted to tell him. Thankfully, King’s Gambit helped to tamp down my own anger and proceed logically. “Myre has shared what I told her?”

“She has,” he said, raising one brow at my casual use of her first name. There was a deeper emotion hidden behind his placid mask, buried deep in his eyes and visible only by their slight dilation.

Fear.

I marked this emotion without thinking about it too deeply. There would be time to dissect this conversation later. In the moment, I focused on controlling my own thoughts and body language. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to describe it now any better than I did for her days ago. Perhaps walking the Path of Insight can help us both make sense of it.”

Kezess’s eyes narrowed, little more than a twitch. He hadn’t expected me to volunteer to take the Path so readily or so soon, which I had anticipated. We were flying over a wide field of tall, corn-like stalks with golden bulbs at their top, and he watched the farmers go about their work for several long seconds before answering. “I’m sure you’ve learned much in this final keystone to share. I can feel the eagerness with which your aether rears up to do your bidding.”

I knew this was a subtle allusion to my canceling his attempt to teleport us back to the castle earlier. He was showing restraint, but I didn’t think it was related to that spark of fear I had seen. Instead, it seemed more likely that he desired to keep me comfortable and confident so that I would not hold back on the Path of Insight.

He could also be sensing King’s Gambit, one branch of my thoughts identified. Windsom and Charon will have already told him about the godrune’s ability, but they only saw it fully active. Kezess knowing that I had such a tool was one thing, but I had no doubt he would consider it an act of hostility if I outwardly used it against him.

“I have,” I admitted, seeing no benefit in denying my progress. “I have no doubt I can share enough insight to keep you busy with your research for quite some time.”

What I did not, say, of course, was that I knew the dragons’ control over aether had slowly lessened over time. In the final keystone, I had learned that aether was really the distilled magical essence of a life, and even maintained some semblance of knowledge and purpose. The dragons had ended so many lives that the aetheric realm was now bursting with the remnants of people who hated the dragons, and so aether became more and more difficult for the dragons to direct.

Because my core purified the aether, it created a bond between the energy and me that the dragons couldn’t replicate, so I didn’t know how much of the insight I provided would even prove useful to Kezess.

Hopefully not much, I found myself thinking antagonistically.

Indrath’s Castle loomed ahead of us. We passed through a sort of invisible bubble that rippled over my skin like warm water. There was an inherent hostility to it, like dozens of hungry eyes turning toward me in the dark, but this discomforting sensation settled instantly. Kezess led us high up into a familiar tower.

The arched windows opened to look around in every direction, some showing only the steep roofs of the castle, others the foothills and distant fields of Kezess’s domain. Strangely, I thought I could make out Everburn in the distance, although I had never noticed it while in the tower before.

The well worn ring in the stone floor seemed even deeper than before, but logically I knew it was a trick of my perception.

“Show me,” he said simply, gesturing to the Path.

I regarded the eroded stone thoughtfully, considering the King’s Gambit godrune. Leaving it active within the Path of Insight would increase my ability to control my own thoughts and deal with whatever magic the Path bore that pulled insight directly from my mind. However, there was also risk in potentially revealing more about King’s Gambit than I wanted to, or even having my branching thoughts carry ideas into the Path that I didn’t want. The fact that the godrune broadened my consciousness and allowed me to think several thoughts in parallel could prove to be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how the Path of Insight itself functioned.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know enough about it to make an educated decision.

I need every advantage, I finally decided, leaving the godrune partially activated as I stepped onto the Path. My feet moved of their own accord, and the branches of my mind clamped as firmly in place as a steel trap around memories of my time in the fourth keystone.

First, I walked through the keystone itself, one thread of thought focusing on its mechanics, another replaying the memories of my unwinding them. There was no version of these events that I could weave without revealing the aspect of Fate, and so I stepped into those memories next, the conversations we’d had. I focused closely on Fate’s insistence that the aetheric realm was unnatural and needed to be burst. With these threads, I carefully told him a story that maneuvered around what Fate had revealed about the dragons and didn’t reveal my agreement with Fate.

But the more I attempted to hold back, maneuver around, or obfuscate, the more I felt an outside force drawing on my thoughts, pulling them in different directions. Suddenly I was thinking about the keystones and the trials that had been required to claim them. I snipped off that thread, but another was considering the complex key required just to enter the forth keystone. I quickly pruned that thought as well, focusing instead on Fate’s confusion about the memory crystal I had carried in my dimension storage rune that resulted in my quickly discovering its attempted ruse. This thought morphed into my memories of Fate itself, which spread throughout every branch of my King’s Gambit-enhanced consciousness, and for a moment I struggled to control so many thoughts at once.

Leaning into this force, I followed Fate through to the end, reliving the moments after I was released from the keystone, when Fate stood behind me after I reappeared inside Sylvia’s cave to find my pocket dimension collapsed, the sustaining pool now sitting embedded in the cave floor. The force was pulling me back, hunting for a different memory or train of thought that I hadn’t yet focused on. I cut loose the branches that required the most struggle, the fiercest control, and focused the rest on Agrona, demanding Sylvie’s life, on Nico, already near death, and on Cecilia and her refusal to comply.

The alternative thought paths came faster, and I struggled to deflect. Instead of thinking about the events, and how I had sat at their confluence, I let the pull force every branch of thought to the aspect of Fate itself. Instead of the conversations, the knowledge shared, the hunt through all those future timelines for a workable solution to the problem of aether, it was those last moments that came clear. The threads of my tangled thoughts wove together into the rough shape of a man, just as the threads of Fate formed Fate itself. And in the spotlight of that focus, it was revealed how the aspect of Fate had guided me, moving through me as if I were the one held up by strings..

Enough, I thought, trying to retake control over my feet. I stumbled and nearly fell as my body resisted me, my legs eager to keep treading the endless loop as the Path’s power siphoned my insight from me. Gritting my teeth, I forced through the unnatural inclination, and my pacing stilled. I stood breathing heavily beside the worn ring of stone.

Kezess wasn’t looking at me. His gaze pointed at nothing, focusing into a middle distance at something I could not see. Slowly, as if just waking, he looked around without seeing. Finally, a spark of life and understanding shone in his golden eyes, and his brows curved down like descending blades as he looked at me—into me.

The tower collapsed around us. I reached for the aether but, caught off guard, I could not hold back the onslaught of Kezess’s power. Beyond the tower, all the castle was collapsing into stone and sand and dust. The sky darkened, and black clouds were split by red bolts of lightning. We stood upon a precipice, a rough circle of dark stone that extended out from barren black rock over a sea of bubbling maga. The heat and choking stench scorched my throat as I dragged in a heady breath.

I wobbled, forced to shift my footing to keep upright. My heels dipped, and I realized I was only just barely standing upon the edge of the rough sphere.

It wasn’t Kezess’s power that kept me frozen, but the bitterness and frustration of his unrestrained anger as he said, “You cannot know what you know, Arthur Leywin. Alive, you pose too great a danger. Agrona thought he could learn the nature of your core even after your death. Perhaps I can do the same. Do you have a message for my granddaughter before you die?”

My mind reeled. Cannot know what I know? But what does—

All the entwined thoughts and memories of my time on the Path of Insight came crashing back in at once, and I realized my mistake.

“She knows, too,” I said, my voice raw from the blistering air and strangling smoke. “Are you going to execute your own blood to keep your secret?” Although Kezess had caught me off guard, I was starting to get my footing once again. There was a chaotic surging to the aether here, but my own remained steadfast.

He shook his head. “When you have gone as far as I have to protect your people, there is nothing you won’t do to ensure that protection remains.” His hand moved forward, a slow, inexorable motion.

Aether released from my core, flowed through my channels, and imbued the King’s Gambit and Realmheart godrunes. My vision changed, shifting to bring into visual range the individual motes of mana that I felt in the atmosphere. Wild red swarms of fire-attribute mana billowed on the breeze kicked up by the rivers of molten rock, battering against the thick atmospheric aether and creating the surging sense of chaos I had noticed before.

A wall of pure mana slammed into me. A radiant amethyst light shimmered across the rough platform in response. The division of aether and mana in the atmosphere, two forces pressing up against one another, delineated further as the purple particles pushed back against the white and red.

Instead of being thrown off the platform, I lifted up in the air. The aether trembled, but Kezess’s spell broke against me.

Instead of surprise, I saw in the narrowing of Kezess’s eyes a cold calculation. His hand fell to his side. The molten rock far beneath us hissed, popped, and bubbled, loud to my hyper-focused senses.

“I did not intend that you discover what I’d learned yet,” I said, my voice bitter-sharp. “I miscalculated my ability to resist the effects of the Path of Insight while controlling my own entwined and overlapping thoughts. Still, perhaps it is better that there are no lies between us. The aspect of Fate showed me what the dragons have done to this world, but you yourself only know half the story.”

His eyes darkened to the thunderous purple. Although he stood outwardly casual, every muscle was tensed to spring into action and heavily laden with mana. I could see the way it coiled into the dragon within him, ready to spring out and transform his flesh. “None who have learned what you have and threatened to use it against me remain. None except Mordain, who your thoughts have betrayed. I saw your journey to the keystone and his role in it. All these centuries, and not only does he survive but he continues to work against me.”

I tasted bile in the back of my throat as he spoke. Even worse than revealing what I knew about the dragons’ actions, giving away Mordain and his people was a very unfortunate result of my time on the Path. But I would have to deal with the threat between Mordain and Kezess later, and so settled it well into the back of my mind. “Once, your ancestors were so potent in the aetheric arts that they formed an entirely new world, a dimension within a dimension, to house your people, away from a world that couldn’t support you. But now, you can barely scrape by begging the aether to mold to your desires. I’m curious, Kezess. Do you even know what changed?”

A flash in his eyes. A tightening of his mouth. The most subtle shift of his feet and whitening of his knuckles. Words he wished to say were caught behind clenched teeth, and his tongue ran along the back of them to push the words down. “As maintaining a certain balance became essential, some drawing down of the dragon’s aetheric magic was also.”

I eased back down onto the platform. The stone was hot beneath the leather soles of my boots. “You know you can’t undo what’s been done simply by ripping out my core, assuming you are capable of doing so. My core alone wouldn’t provide you my insight, not only into the aetheric arts but also my capacity to draw in and purify aether. To bond it to me. Nor my ability to freely navigate the Relictombs, where an entire civilization of insight rests. I have claimed and used the djinn’s keystones, I have met Fate itself. Only I have what you need, and only as I live and remain cooperative can you gain access to it. Which is why this little ruse was never about killing me.”

Kezess’s eyes lingered on the glowing crown I could see reflected back in them. “What makes you think I am unwilling to make that sacrifice?”

“The hungry fire burning in your chest.”

Kezess gave a small shake of his head. “You truly are incalculably arrogant, child.”

Another thread of my conscious thought snagged on a detail. Although Kezess had been very cautious of his emotions leaking out, there was nothing that I had read from him that I found unusual, except perhaps one thing. Kezess had shown this front of anger because my knowledge of the repeated genocides leaked through into the Path of Insight. But there had been no sign of surprise at the events themselves. He knew about all those other genocides as well, all the way back to the very beginning.

“I think perhaps we should resume your walk another time, after we’ve both been able to process this conversation,” Kezess said.

I looked down and found myself standing within the ring worn into the tower floor. Out the window, I could see blue sky, white clouds, and distant rolling foothills. But the smell of brimstone lingered on the air, and heat still radiated up into the soles of my feet. I considered what I had said earlier about the dragons’ aetheric abilities, and I wondered. Kezess still had some secrets from me.

Releasing Realmheart and easing back on King’s Gambit enough to dispel the crown of light but keep several branches of simultaneous thought active, I stepped off the Path. “I think, perhaps, that we need to renegotiate the terms of our agreement. It was your promise to defend my people, but I need your assurance that this agreement extends not just to Agrona and the Alacryans, but from your own people as well.”

Kezess scoffed, a rare slip of his control. “You seek to renegotiate after my own end of the bargain has already been fulfilled?”

I approached the window facing toward Everburn, which I could still just make out many miles distant. I leaned into the window, my hands on the sill. “Considering what I am asking, and why, I don’t see any reason for you to refuse.”

My back was to Kezess, and I closed my eyes to better focus on my other senses. My ability to hyper-focus was far less without King’s Gambit fully activated, but my aether-infused senses were still sharp, and I still had multiple threads of consciousness running in parallel.

Kezess flexed his fingers. His pulse beat irregularly. His breathing was forced, too controlled. He licked his lips before speaking. “You don’t even know what you’re asking, Arthur.”

“Then enlighten me,” I said plainly.

My mind raced through our previous conversations, but even with the godrune, his talk about balance and his wariness to send more asura—stronger asura—to my world still did not fully make sense to me.

“We are done for now,” Kezess said emotionlessly, still as a statue. “I will consider your proposal. Now, would you prefer to fly back to Everburn, or can I teleport us the distance?”

I turned around, leaned back against the sill, and crossed my arms. “This conversation has lasted long enough. I won’t stop you from teleporting me.”

A tiny quirk of his brow was the only sign of his irritation. He wasted no time and said nothing else, but space folded as the tower moved away, and suddenly we were standing in the sitting room of our estate in Everburn. There was a beat, then my sister, who was sitting in a chair there, looked up and let out a startled yell. Boo bristled beside her, letting out a low growl and knocking over a dainty brass side table.

My mother came bounding into the room, mana already building around her hand, but she came up short when she saw Kezess. Her eyes flicked to me, then back to Kezess, and she gave a stiff bow. Ellie, recovering quickly, jumped up and did the same. The curtain to Tessia’s room moved aside, but Tessia froze standing in the doorway. I moved away from Kezess to stand beside Ellie and rested a hand on her shoulder, silently offering her my support. To Tessia, I shot a quick wink, telling her that it was okay.

“Ah, Lord Indrath,” a quavering voice said from the kitchen, which extended off the central chamber.

Lord Eccleiah was standing there beside the kitchen island, looking incredibly out of place. As before, I noted his pale, wrinkled skin, the ridges that ran along his temples, and the milky-white film that covered his eyes. His face wrinkled even more deeply as he smiled at us. He made no move to bow.

Beside him, Myre gave a respectful curtsy to her husband. “Auspicious timing. Lord Eccleiah and I were just discussing an…interesting proposal from the rest of the Great Eight.”

Myre, wearing the youthful, beautiful visage that matched her husband’s perfectly, stepped out of the kitchen and moved regally to Kezess’s side. Their eyes met, both a striking shade of lavender, and something I could not read passed between them. I considered that they had some kind of telepathy, just as I did with my companions.

As I thought of Sylvie and Regis, the curtain to the street outside opened, Sylvie holding it aside so Regis could enter first. He gave Kezess a wide berth as he circled around to my side. Sylvie herself moved to one wall and leaned against it, keeping her distance.

Kezess turned toward her, waiting.

He expects you to formally recognize him, I thought to her.

‘I know,’ she sent back, an edge to her thoughts. ‘But I owe him no fealty. Dicathen is my home, not Epheotus.’

I kept myself from smiling as Kezess continued to wait silently.

Lord Eccleiah, or Veruhn as he had requested I call him, gave a scratchy cough. “Arthur Leywin and Lord Indrath, both the people I wanted to speak to. Truly an opportune moment.”

Kezess turned his back on Sylvie, who remained uncowed. “Perhaps this is something that should be discussed in more official environs, Lord Eccleiah—”

“Because the others have been discussing, and we have come to the decision that we”—Veruhn leaned against the counter separating the sitting room and the kitchen, grinning around in his dottering way that I knew must be a projection—“would like to formally name our belief that Arthur Leywin represents not only the human interests in Epheotus, but that he himself has evolved, and is now the first member of an entirely new branch of the asuran family!”

Veruhn’s eyes sparkled as he looked at each member of the group now in the room. The only sound was a hushed gasp and the whisper of the curtain to Tessia’s room falling back into place as she stepped out of view.

“We would like to officially petition that this new asuran race be recognized, and that Clan Leywin become its founding clan.” A happy smile trembled onto his wrinkled lips. “Of course, a new race would require a new lord or lady to be appointed, and a new seat to be added to the Great Eight. Or Nine, I suppose!” The old asura chuckled.

In the center of the room, Kezess’s fiery gaze remained on the lord of the leviathan race, carefully avoiding my own. Beside him, though, Myre was staring at me with a fierce, dire expression.

“We’re going to be royalty?” Regis and Ellie said at the same time, Regis quite loud and Ellie under her breath.

‘I doubt it will be as simple as that,’ Sylvie answered.

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    Chapter 487: Contingencies

    SERIS VRITRA

    I stood silently, surrounded by a collage of orange, purple, and aquamarine crystals sparkling with yellow and white. The Hall of Lords within Lodenhold was a surprisingly pretty place for the gruff dwarves to convene, but I’d always found the dwarven people to be a cautious alchemy of pragmatism and romanticism, even though they would certainly find the description insulting.

    Around the long, ornate table at the geode’s heart were several dwarves representing multiple clans. Chief among them were the Earthborns and Silvershales. Also present were Virion Eralith, de facto leader of the remaining elven people, Kathyln Glayder, who represented the affairs of the human nation of Sapin, and Gideon Bastius, chief inventor and scientist behind the advent of the Beast Corps, Dicathen’s newest weapon.

    Their conversation had gone on for quite some time with minimal input from me. This suited me just fine. The people of Dicathen were terrified. The dragons had retreated to their home of Epheotus with only a cursory notice to this world's leaders. Few beyond this chamber even knew that they’d captured Agrona Vritra.

    Alacrya was free of him, even if it didn’t know it yet.

    But his sudden absence created a host of new dangers for my people. Allowing Agrona and Kezess Indrath to further weaken each other had been essential to the continued safety of our world. I feared this was a mistake on Arthur’s part, although, I could not see all ends, and only time would tell. So much work undone in an instant… I caught myself and tamped down my frustration before it could leak out onto my face. No, perhaps not undone entirely. But, if Arthur isn’t able to dissuade them, the asuras of Epheotus are now potentially an even greater threat.

    Near the far end of the table, Durgar Silvershale, heir apparent to his father, Daglun, Lord of Clan Silvershale, had been silently stewing on some thought for several minutes as the others discussed the situation in Vildorial. I’d watched the way he tossed his graying hair, scratched at his freshly trimmed beard, and kept shooting me dark looks, his slate-gray eyes full of fear and contempt.

    Finally, he burst out. “Why do we not take the battle to Alacrya?”

    The hall went silent as the other lords and their guests turned to him.

    Cheeks turning ruddy at becoming the center of attention, Durgar nonetheless lifted his chin and met all eyes with a look of challenge. “We have many of their warriors imprisoned here in Vildorial. As you were just discussing, the number of prisoners is so great that we’ve had to dig out two additional fresh prisons just to hold them all.

    Their supreme leader is gone, many of their greatest powers defeated. For the first time in this whole damn war, we can attack from a place of strength!”

    Although several of those present glanced at me as if awaiting a response, I was not invited to speak, and while that was not strictly a deterrent, it was in my benefit to adhere to their decorum for the moment. I’d seen this anger and frustration building within the people of Dicathen over the last couple of weeks, but I also saw their fatigue and war-wariness. Although some may push for more violence, now that, as Durgar had correctly suggested, the balance of power was perhaps tipped toward Dicathen, I did not think there was any danger.

    Lance Mica Earthborn leaned back in her seat and kicked one leg up over the other. Her black gemstone eye reflected the many-colored crystals around us. “Arthur is in Epheotus. Lance Varay is recovering from her wounds in Etistin. Our own armies are haggard and depleted from half a decade of constant conflict. If Agrona really is defeated, then there is no reason to continue the war.”

    There were a few mumbled agreements to her words, but others looked less sure, including her own father, Carnelian Earthborn, whose voice would be essential to any decision the council came to.

    “We have these…machines,” Durgar answered, gesturing to Gideon. “The Beast Corps and…what did you call these things again?”

    “Exoforms,” Gideon answered. Ink-stained fingertips brushed over patchy brows as he considered the table. His eyes only barely touched mine before focusing on Lord Earthborn. “Since Arthur isn’t here to speak—and it was on his orders and with his support that the Beast Corps was formed—I will risk speaking on his behalf. He would not agree to attack Alacrya.”

    Daglun Silvershale, lord of his clan, tugged at his braided beard anxiously. “And is Arthur Leywin, a human boy less than half the age of my youngest son, the king of all Dicathen now? Perhaps I missed his coronation, but last I checked, he was a Lance in service of the elven empire and nothing more, regardless of his personal strength and his service to Dicathen.” “Not to mention the lies of his whereabouts that got so many killed,” Lance Mica said under her breath. I made note of the comment and set it aside to consider more deeply later. This is a problem that Arthur will need to address before it can fester.

    There was a glassy clatter as Lance Bairon Wykes shifted his stance, the steel of his boots ringing against the crystal slab on which we all stood. “Arthur is not our king, but he nonetheless represents both our continent and our world in communication with the asuras. If what we’ve learned is accurate, he is in their land right now, certainly treating with their lord. Can anyone else at this time claim to have done such a thing?”

    I held back my smile, appreciating Bairon’s straightforward defense of Arthur, and all the more because his words were true.

    Gideon cleared his throat. He pointedly met Virion’s eyes, then Kathyln’s, and finally Carnelian Earthborn’s. “No, but I do think Durgar is right on one point: the Alacryan presence in Vildorial is a burden the city can’t support. The cost of food alone, even prison gruel, is likely to bring the city to its knees in less than a month.” Finally, the old scientist turned his attention to me. “I propose, and I’m certain Arthur would agree, that the only way to move forward is to release the Alacryans and send them home.”

    He had presented the argument, which we had developed together in the days leading up to this meeting, with more sarcasm than I’d have preferred, but given both his audience and his station among them, I had to admit it was effective. I let a smile show through. Not sharp or victorious, but soft and grateful, as if I were hearing his words for the first time.

    It had been difficult to communicate properly, as I had only recently been allowed to leave the prisons that still held the rest of my people, even those who had fought alongside the Dicathians like Caera Denoir and Lyra Dreide. The dwarves had shown little interest in speaking with me, and, even after my release, I hadn’t been allowed to leave Vildorial to communicate with the human leaders.

    Virion Eralith had been willing to meet with me, proving himself to be an understanding and patient man. The support of both Arthur and Lance Bairon gave his voice an outsized weight in comparison to the station he now held, but there was no longer an armed conflict to be commander of, and his people were decimated and scattered. I expected him to stick to his values, but he lacked the strength to fight for my people when his own needed so much of him.

    It had been in Gideon that I had found the attentive ear I needed to bend. He saw the problems facing his people and my own clearly and without the haze of hatred or sorrow. For a man barely half my age, he was quite intelligent, but most of all, he was unburdened by an overdeveloped sense of propriety, meaning he could speak his mind openly even among the powerful.

    These thoughts and others bounded swiftly through my mind in the beat of silence that followed Gideon’s proclamation.

    “We’ve tried to live peacefully beside them already—”

    “—turn right around and attack us—”

    “—deserve justice for the crimes committed against them—”

    “—eager to see them gone, but we can’t trust them!”

    One of the lesser dwarven lords, a blister-cheeked woman with gray hair named Stoyya, said above the rest: “And who exactly gave you authority to make suggestions at this table?”

    It was Virion’s rough, calm voice that answered. “Master Gideon has proven himself time and time again. Even if he lacks an official title after the dissolution of the TriUnion Council, he has been integral to every stage of this war. Even now, he represents a significant military power in Dicathen. Should those he represents not have a voice if we’re to rely on their strength?” He gazed around the room levelly. When no one responded, we continued. “That said, I must ask: even if we wished to release the Alacryans, how could so many be sent back across the ocean? We lack ships capable of making the journey, and our capabilities for teleportation can’t match that which brought them to our shores.”

    “We could send them all into the Relictombs,” Lance Mica suggested with a shrug of her small shoulders. “They’d come out in Alacrya eventually. Those that survived, anyway.”

    Virion frowned. “Many would not, and we would have no say over who lived and who died, should we be considering justice.”

    Lady Kathyln Glayder folded her hands together on the table in front of her. “Keep in mind that there are children imprisoned here as we speak, and more still living on the very border of the Beast Glades, left with only the protection of their non-mage caretakers. Any solution needs to ensure that we are not unjustly punishing those who have had no choice in this war.”

    Seeing my opening, I took half a step forward. The small motion was enough to draw every eye to me. “Many of those who raised arms against you and your people might be said to have had no choice in fighting this war. Alacrya is not a nation where leaders earn the respect of their people. Rather, it is one where beings more ancient and powerful that we can fully appreciate control the people absolutely, even defining their very worth on the purity of their blood. It is a nation where any small disrespect —even unintentional—might mean death not only for you, but your entire family, even your friends and allies. There are those who refused to fight, and we all watched them die horribly. When a god-king tells you to go to war, you go.”

    I let my head bow solemnly. “At Arthur’s urging, you allowed many Alacryans to live in Dicathen alongside you, as your neighbors. And the trust you placed in us through Arthur was betrayed. But when we marched alongside the invading force that entered Vildorial searching for Arthur, it was not because you were or are our enemies. I trusted to find here a way to save as many of my people as possible, while endangering your own as little.” I raised my chin and looked down at the seated lords and ladies defiantly. “Can any of you truthfully say you’d have done differently? That, upon watching the magic within your own people’s cores erupt and kill them, that you would simply let them die rather than comply? Because if you can tell me that, then perhaps you are a stronger leader than I. Or perhaps you are simply more ruthless with the lives of those who rely on you.”

    Blinking faces regarded me with surprise. This surprise quickly turned to anger for some.

    “A pathetic excuse!” Durgar roared.

    “To be called ruthless by an Alacryan,” another of the dwarven lords spat, his thick mustache quivering and flecked with spittle.

    “You should watch your tone, Scythe,” Lance Mica said, leaning forward in her chair, her one good eye narrowing.

    Carnelian Earthborn, her father, raised a hand. “At ease, Mica. Lord Silvershale.” He shook out his mahogany hair and scratched at his matching beard. “After all, we’ve invited Lady Seris here to represent her people, and that is what she is trying to do. As for my part…” He gave a long, thoughtful look at his daughter and the other Earthborn present, Hornfels, his nephew. “I can’t say what I’d have done in your situation, but I’m not ready to condemn your entire people based on the orders of a corrupt lord. If we dwarves did that, few enough of us would have been left to fight this war at all.” He glared at Daglun and Durgar. “Or have you forgotten the Greysunders already?”

    Daglun Silvershale sputtered. “Forgotten…? It was we who led the resistance, who fought and refused to submit, refused to take sides with…with…” His eyes narrowed at Carnelian, who only smiled back. “Yes, well…I concede your point, Lord Earthborn.” Gideon cleared his throat. “Commander Virion, I believed you asked a rather important question before this meeting started to go off the rails. How could we hope to send so many people back to Alacrya at such a distance? Thanks to our asuran ally, Wren Kain IV, I already have an answer.” He raised his half-grown brows and looked smugly around the table. “The Alacryans’ last attack was accomplished with the use of a new teleportation technology. Well, I say new, but the reality is that it is as close to what the ancient mages accomplished as I’ve ever seen. lіght\nоvel\world~c\о\m. Despite their efforts to prevent it, we have captured one of the devices. It was a relatively simple matter to then reverse engineer the working copy.”

    Durgar slapped his palm against the table. “This is excellent! It puts us on even footing with their ability to strike at a moment's notice. With the speed and mobility of the Beast Corps, we can—”

    “This council lacks the authority to send my exosuits and their pilots anywhere at all,” Gideon snapped.

    Durgar’s face went red as a bloodberry, but his father spoke up before he could manage a response. “It is clear that the Council of Lords has little stomach for further fighting. It would be best to listen, Durgar, and gauge the temperament of our peers before demanding more blood and war.”

    Durgar’s jaw clenched several times beneath his beard, and he looked down at the table, meeting no one’s eyes.

    “So it seems,” Lady Kathyln said into the silence that follows, “that we have means if we also have desire. On behalf of Sapin, I would suggest we follow Master Gideon’s suggestion. Send these people home. Allow them to begin rebuilding their homes, so that we might do the same.”

    Virion nodded his agreement. “Well said. On behalf of what remains of the elven nation of Elenoir, I agree.”

    Among the dwarven lords, Silvershale and Earthborn were the most powerful. They exchanged a look, and then Carnelian answered for them all. “We agree to release the prisoners and allow them to return home.” There was a brief pause, and then, “On one condition.”

    I eyed the dwarf expectantly; in armed conflict, no victor backed down with an incentive.

    “Great harm has been done to the nation of Darv by Agrona, and on his behalf,” Carnelian said with a rehearsed air. “We expect recompense from Alacrya for its war crimes. Justice in material wealth, in the absence of justice in blood.”

    “You have taken the words straight from my mind,” I said quickly, before anyone else could intervene. “Dicathen has suffered greatly under Agrona’s attacks. Perhaps not as much as Alacrya has suffered under his rule, but your point is nonetheless valid. Although I am no longer in a position of political power and can make no promises for the dominions of Alacrya, I’m certain you can make any future leaders see the sense of your demands, just as I do.

    “In fact, I would offer more.” Now, my focus turned to Virion. “Although it was the asura and not Alacrya who did such horrible damage to Elenoir, a cowardly attack that took many Alacryan lives as well, we nonetheless would offer similar justice for the elves. Currently, the borders with the Beast Glades are defended only by the villages my people set up there. Should the elves seek to rebuild their homeland, they would become prey for the ranging monsters that have grown consistently more bold over these last months. I hope to leave some of my own people there, in the villages we have already established, to tend the border with the Beast Glades. Perhaps, in time, they might even become trading partners with the elves, as we’ve established hunting grounds and crops in the otherwise lifeless wasteland.”

    Virion, his hands on the table, pushed back into his chair slightly. This and the slight widening of his eyes were all that gave away his surprise. Ideally, I’d have sought his agreement beforehand, as I’d done with Gideon, but I trusted his sense of fairness and equity to win out.

    “Your offer of aid is…very welcome,” he said at length.

    Carnelian was frowning deeply. “And yet the agreement was that all Alacryans be sent back to their homeland. This would allow some to stay on our shores, where they have already proven a danger once.”

    “Elenoir and the Beast Glades are far from Darv,” Virion said easily. “The risk is firmly on the elves, and I’m willing to accept that risk in exchange for Lady Seris’s offer of support and protection for my people as we begin attempting to revive the Elshire Forest.”

    Durgar muttered something about the softness of elves, drawing a cold look from Virion’s assistant, a middle-aged elven woman named Saria Triscan.

    “There is yet more we might offer,” I continued. “The technology of Alacrya is advanced. We will share our knowledge. Agrona was only one asura. There is an entire nation of them out there still, any one of which could be just as dangerous to us. Alacrya will share our knowledge, because it is that, not Vritra blood, that makes us strong. Dicathen and Alacrya may assure continued peace between our two continents by equalizing our nations in power, but as our world grows stronger in total, we also help to safeguard ourselves against future asuran involvement.”

    I withdrew a leatherbound sheaf of parchment. A dwarven attendant took it and carried it around the table to Lady Kathyln as I indicated. She took it with care, regarded it curiously, then turned searching eyes back on me.

    “I start with a gift for Lance Varay Aurae, who I believe will benefit greatly from this knowledge, which was taken from Taegrin Caelum before we fled Alacrya, at the cost of many Alacryan lives.”

    Kathyln’s expression hardened, and she gave a single sharp nod as she set the bound parchments on the table and rested her hands protectively atop it.

    “Now, unless there is any further business, there is much to do to organize my people for travel. Master Gideon, please bring me the specifications of these portals so we can establish a timeline.” I let my gaze sweep across the room, staying respectful but businesslike. “Commander Virion. I must speak with my people to see who is willing to return to the border villages, and then I will provide you numbers.”

    Turning away, I walked confidently toward the closed dwarves. The startled guards straightened, looking from me to someone behind me, then hurried to open the doors.

    As I marched quickly through the palace, I felt Virion’s mana signature follow after, noting the silence of his footsteps as he hurried to walk at my side.

    “That was well done in there,” he said quietly. “It seems you got exactly what you hoped for, unless I’ve read things incorrectly.”

    “I did what all leaders do: sought allies to support my positions,” I answered in the same low tone. “I hope you don’t misunderstand. It wasn’t my intention to manipulate, but rather to ensure a strong bargaining position.”

    He raised his hands and gave me a rough smile. “I’ve seen the game played for a long time, but seeing you in action makes it all the more clear that we should be on the same side of things to come.”

    That is more true than you may realize, I thought, but out loud, I only bid him farewell for now.

    The palace was soon behind me as I marched with a rapid surety toward the closest of the prison wards, which was not far down the curving highway. The outer guards barely twitched their beards at my approach, but the warden within hurried to retrieve the keys and allow me into the cells.

    In the hours and days after the battle, my people had been commingled without thought into cells, many even held in the bunkers built in the base of the city to protect the civilians. Several fights had broken out between Agrona’s loyalists and those who had followed me out of Alacrya to begin with. It had only been with Lance Bairon’s assistance that I’d convinced our jailors to separate the loyalists and place them in one of the newly dug out prisons.

    Now, the upper cell contained mostly those who were least a threat to the Dicathians, and those most in need of protection from potential reprisal.

    I stopped to greet and check on members of the Ramseyer blood, which had suffered great losses during the battle, and then on the Arkwrights. Umberters and Frosts, Belleroses and Isenhaerts. I greeted young Seth Milview and Mayla Fairweather, interrupting their reading as they poured through a book together. Something one of the dwarven guards had given them. That look of awkwardness and surprise at being addressed by a Scythe—even if I no longer held that title—was barely a flicker on their faces now.

    I felt eyes following me and turned to catch Corbett and Lenora Denoir watching me carefully. Caera turned away from some conversation with them and dipped respectfully. “Lady Seris. What news?”

    I gestured for her to follow me, then continued deeper into the prison, searching for Lyra and Cylrit. Caera did not ask any more questions but followed me patiently.

    I found them in one of the few cells that had solid walls to provide some privacy for conversations within. Normally it would be locked and warded, but like all the other cells, it was open into the central chamber, affording those imprisoned here some level of freedom to intermingle and move about the complex. Even if the lords of Vildorial had wanted to clap every Alacryan mage in mana suppression cuffs, they wouldn’t have had enough for even ten percent of the prisoners, but I had specifically convinced them to allow Lyra and Cylrit—among the strongest of those jailed after the battle—to go without such precautions.

    Lyra was sitting cross legged on her bunk with her back against the wall. Her flamered hair pooled around her head like a halo, bright against the stained, off-white stone. Cyrlit stood against the opposite wall, his thumbs hooked through his belt. His normally well-groomed appearance was slightly disheveled, his hair unkempt around his horns; imprisonment hadn’t agreed with him, and I knew he was eager to return to the fight, whatever that might look like now.

    Both looked grave, as if they’d been discussing something quite serious. Although they looked at me in tandem, neither spoke to ask what had happened. Instead, they waited.

    I gave them a soft smile, and their demeanors relaxed.

    “It went well, then?” Cylrit said finally, pushing himself away from the wall with his elbows.

    “More or less as expected, yes,” I confirmed. I closed the door behind Caera, then activated the muffling wards with a pulse of mana. “Their eagerness for a simple solution overwhelmed baser desires, and with Master Gideon there to provide solutions to their concerns, it was fairly straightforward.”

    Lyra let out a slow breath between pursed lips. “Forgive me for saying so, but I wasn’t sure. If the tables were turned, who in Alacrya would have shown the same grace?”

    “Something you should remember in the days to come,” I answered, my tone growing somber. “As we begin to rebuild our nation, there is much we can learn from how the Dicathians treat each other.”

    “I can’t stop thinking about what must be happening back in Alacrya,” Caera said, half to herself.

    I reached out and lifted her chin with a finger, meeting her eyes. “Right now, there is a vacuum of power. Already, those highbloods loyal to Agrona will be struggling to fill it. But there are still many who will be working for the betterment of our nation as well. Removing Agrona was only the first step.”

    “And…” Cylrit hesitated. “What about our plans?”

    “We’ll have to judge the state of our home continent.” I looked from Lyra to Cylrit to Caera, lingering on her the longest. “It is certain that the conflict isn’t over yet. The fight to come will be for the very soul of Alacrya.”
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  2. Offline
    Chapter 486: HELL OF A TIME

    ALARIC MAER

    Leaning forward, I let my forehead knock against the rough surface of the table with a dull thunk. “I’ll go myself,” I grumbled, the words half smothered by the wood. “We’re pissing in the dark, here.”

    “That’s a horrible idea,” Darrin answered matter of factly. The others quickly echoed the sentiment. “We don’t know how close to Taegrin Caelum your people managed to get before disappearing.”

    I knocked my aching skull against the table a second time. “We should know more shortly, then I’ll go. Without contact from Dicathen, seeing inside Taegrin Caelum might be our only way to know for sure.” I sat up straight, and the world wobbled drunkenly, which was incredibly ironic considering that I myself was stone-cold sober.

    Looking around, I took in the fifteen or so people gathered in the second-floor study of a stately townhouse that overlooked Cargidan’s main thoroughfare. Some were keeping up a pretense of staying busy and not outwardly paying attention to my conversation with Darrin, but all their ears were conveniently turned in our direction. Most didn’t bother to hide their attentiveness, waiting with nervous eagerness to be involved, one way or another.

    Not one of them looked particularly enthused by the idea of me limping off into the Basilisk Fang Mountains to see why our people kept disappearing around the fortress of Taegrin Caelum without so much as a bloody trail of offal to follow.

    “What? You don’t think I’m up to it?” I growled, meeting eyes two by two, then smirking in grim satisfaction as they fell or turned away. All except Darrin. I waved him off, reached for the flask on my belt, stopped short, and then rapped my knuckles against the wood before me. “Bah. Go home, Darrin. There’s nothing for you to do here, and your peck of orphans will be missing you.”

    Darrin’s face fell, and I felt a flush of guilt and regret rise up my neck.

    Most of those in Darrin’s care were the children of mages who had either been in Dicathen already or were sent to Dicathen in the most recent attack.

    To hunt down Arthur Leywin. With no communication from Dicathen—and few enough soldiers returning—we had no way to know how many of their bloods survived.

    “Too many ascenders have been swallowed up into the belly of this war,” Darrin said softly, looking at the floor. “Between those who went with Seris, those conscripted to launch this failed attack, and those still suffering the aftereffects of the shockwave, all of Alacrya has ground to a halt. Those who are left need help.”

    A movement in the shadows behind the others drew my attention. The specter of my former commander stood with her arms crossed, her face hidden by shadow and the golden hair that fell half across her face. I swallowed heavily, took a stuttering breath, and then stood suddenly, nearly knocking my chair over. Turning my back on the specter—and everyone else in the room—I moved to a window overlooking the street.

    The usually busy road was empty. Highblood Kaenig had declared martial law in Cargidan in the hours after the shockwave, cutting off all unofficial travel, shutting down the Ascenders Association and Central Academy, and consigning residents to their homes except for essential workers. There had been rumblings of a minor rebellion, but the appearance of Scythe Dragoth and a retinue of soldiers, mages, and Instillers silenced any willingness among the population—mostly weak mages or unadorned—to challenge the highbloods. Dragoth and his retinue had taken over Central Academy and had so far been very aggressive about allowing anyone else within a fireball’s throw of the campus.

    But they’ll get in. I’m sure of it. As if the thought conjured him, a reedy little stick of a man, drowning in unkempt robes, appeared at the end of the street, sprinting up the street like there was a pair of shadow panthers on his heels.

    He was alone.

    I cursed. One of our enforcers, a rugged bruiser named Akron, rushed to the window and looked out. He cursed as well. “Everyone wrap it up! There’s a decent chance this location is blown.”

    “Saelii, start clearing the building,” I barked, already hurrying toward the stairs down to the first floor. “Akron, Vaalish, your teams with me.” Catching Darrin’s eye from the corner of my own, I added, “And you, get the abyss out of this dominion. Go home, Darrin. I mean it.”

    If he answered, I didn’t hear it over the stomping of many sets of feet on the stairs and the hammering in my head. I was across the house and crashing out the front door and into the street in moments.

    Still halfway down the block, Edmon of Blood Scriven—a shady little man who had acted as my backdoor into the academic circles—screamed when he saw me appear. A couple hundred feet behind him, four Highblood Kaenig soldiers gave chase. Even as he turned to glance desperately back at his pursuers, one of them raised hand, and mana flared.

    The shadows in the street were growing long as the sun moved into the west overhead, and suddenly those shadows flared with green light. Radiant ooze splashed across the paving stones, sizzling and popping as they ate into the road and the mana shield that had enveloped Edmon at the last second. The Shield beside me had sweat running down her face as she fought to hold off the potent attack.

    “Sir?” Vaalish asked, his voice lisping through his scarred lips. I met his one good eye and nodded.

    A sharp pop sounded amidst the pursuing mages, and they all hit the ground, shouting in pain and covering bleeding ears with their hands. The air around them distorted as Akron’s crest activated, pressing heavily down on their chests with a combination of dense air and enhanced gravity. lіghtn\оvеlс\аvе~c`о\m. Conjured shields caged them in, blocking their last few futile spells until, one by one, their eyes rolled back in their heads and they passed out from lack of oxygen.

    Edmon stumbled to a stop in front of me, his hands on his hips and his head thrown back as he sucked desperately at the air. “Th-thanks,” he choked out after a moment.

    I glowered at him. “Where’s the Severin boy? Tristan?”

    He blanched, taking a half step back. “They caught us, Alaric. We ran for it. I just barely made it over the wall, but the boy…” He trailed off, refusing to meet my eyes.

    I glanced at the surrounding buildings. A few faces were already pressed against windows to watch the commotion. Turning to Akron and Vaalish, I said, “You know where you need to be. Go.” Darrin was standing in the doorway to the townhouse we’d just evacuated. “I said go home. You’ve a bunch of potential orphans who need you. I’ll be in touch.”

    Grabbing Edmon by the collar of his shirt, I hurriedly marched him to the closest alley and shoved him into it. “If they’re not already on the way, reinforcements from Highblood Kaenig will be soon. Or worse. Was there any sign of the Scythe? His retainer? Nevermind. Let’s get moving. We can talk when it’s safer.” As I finished speaking, I heard footsteps following and turned back.

    Darrin pulled a hood up to cover his features as he ducked into the alley after us. “I still have a couple things to do in Cargidan before I head home.”

    I chewed the inside of my cheek and fingered the flask at my belt. “No. I won’t be responsible for telling that foster kid of yours that you got yourself caught or killed being obstinate.”

    Darrin’s brows raised, and he gave me a tight-lipped smile. “You’d know all about being obstinate, Al. Why are you still carrying that flask around if you don’t want to drink from it?”

    “I need to be myself,” I said under my breath. Carefully not to look at the shadow of the woman standing beside Darrin, a small squirming bundle in her arms, I added, “I need to be more than the drunken ascender I've been for these last decades…”

    Darrin’s mouth opened to reply, he didn’t have the words.

    Sighing and flexing my shaking hands, I considered how best to get rid of Darrin, but I had to be careful. I checked the windows and corners to ensure we weren’t being followed by anyone else, then turned and went down another alley. After a couple more hurried turns, I knew that any looky-loos who might have watched us leave the fight wouldn’t be able to see us anymore, even if they’d hurried through one of the buildings on this side of the street to try and keep track of us—and win some favor from Highlord Kaenig or Scythe Dragoth for their efforts.

    Fumbling with one of the buttons affixed to my leather wristguards, I activated it and called on an item within the attached dimensional space. A fancy silver necklace appeared in my hand. It was feminine and far too dainty to look natural on anyone but a highblood lady, but I hadn’t exactly been able to choose the design. I pressed the necklace into Edmon’s hands. “Put this on. Now,” I growled when he started to question me.

    “What good is hiding my features now?” he complained. “I never should have agreed to…” He trailed off, and the apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard before fumbling to get the dainty jewelry around his scrawny neck.

    “Oh, hurry up!” I snapped, looking around again. Mana was pumping into my ears, enhancing my hearing as much as I was capable. I thought I could hear armored feet pounding down the street quite a distance away.

    “Here, let me,” Darrin said, giving me a look and helping Edmon fasten the necklace.

    Once it clipped around his neck, there was an immediate pulse from the mana contained inside it, and the features of Edmon’s face seemed to go kind of blurry and indistinct. Depending on the angle I looked at him from, he could have looked like a dozen different people. At a glance, no one would be able to recognize him or properly describe him afterwards.

    Taking a heavy cloak from my dimension artifact, I pressed it into him hard enough to knock him back into the wall. “Wrap yourself up, be quiet, and follow me.” I turned, set my jaw, I looked hard into Darrin’s eyes.

    “We need to split up. You go that way, we’ll go this way.” I gestured with my thumb.

    Darrin shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest. “Stop trying to be so damned self-sacrificing, Al. If we get tangled up with a patrol, you’ll need someone who can actually fight.” He carefully avoided looking at the blurry Edmon beside me.

    “Damn it, boy, you’ll only draw extra attention to us!” I snapped, panic building in my guts. “Go that way. Circle back around and head to the library. It’s shuttered, but a couple of the guards on duty respond well to bribes. Keep trying to follow us, and I swear I’ll knock you on your ass.”

    Darrin’s jaw fell slack, his eyes as wide as if he’d just seen a woggart playing Sovereign’s Quarrel. I turned my back on him and marched quickly away. Edmon hesitated only a moment, then began to follow. We kept mostly to the alleys, at least in the beginning, but we were soon forced onto the larger roads. While the empty streets meant a lot fewer eyes to avoid, it also meant there was no crowd to blend into. Even if passing guards couldn’t identify Edmon, they’d surely recognize that something was wrong, or clock us just for being outside.

    “So? What’s happening at the Academy?” I asked under my breath when I thought it was safe to talk.

    Edmon, his blurred face barely visible beneath the deep hood, cast about nervously before replying. “All of the Instillers and staff that have been trickling into the city from Taegrin Caelum are holed up there, as you thought. I would go so far as to say they’re imprisoned, really. Dragoth is working hard to ensure that word of what’s happening doesn’t leak out into the populace.”

    “And were you able to find out anything about what’s happening?” I asked.
    “Apparently, part of the fortress collapsed when the shockwave happened. After that, the fortress itself seemed to…turn against its inhabitants. Friend or foe alike. Many, many dead.”

    “And the High Sovereign?”

    There was a long pause. I grabbed the sleeve of Edmon’s shirt and pulled him closer.
    “Were you able to learn anything about Agrona?”

    Edmon cleared his throat nervously. “It’s only a rumor…”

    “By the High Sovereign’s inflamed arse, Edmon—” My words cut off as I saw the lithe silhouette of my commander’s specter half hidden in a nearby doorway, face in shadow as it was framed by her hair. Distracted, I thought about exactly how long it had been, wondering if her hair had actually sat that way on her face, or if I had simply made it up as my tired, sober, brittle old mind manifested the dead woman as if she were really there.

    Edmon failed to notice the direction of my gaze. “Apparently a few of the mechanical recording artifacts around Dicathen are still operational.” He hesitated again, his expression muddled by the disguising artifact. “One of them was collected by a Wraith, who returned it to Alacrya. Only a few saw its contents.” I waited, growing increasingly irritated with Edmon’s beating around the bush.

    Perhaps he noticed, because he hurried onward. “Almost everyone who saw the recording was killed.”

    “Then how does anyone know what was on it?”

    “Because one of the Instillers responsible for reviewing it fled before Dragoth caught wind of this all,” Edmon said. His brows rose, and he gave me a meaningful look.

    “Do these rumors suggest what’s on this recording?”

    Edmon’s answering smile was strange on his nebulous mug. “Only that it proves that the High Sovereign is gone for good.”

    My mind was racing as I redrew my plans on the fly. This gambit had already been reckless, but if Taegrin Caelum really was inaccessible, even to a Scythe, and there was proof that Agrona was dead or captured…

    It has to be worth it.

    I led Edmon off the street and around the back of a closed-up accolades shop. As I channeled into the mana lock, the door opened from the inside. I had only a moment to take in a man in black and crimson plate armor. One short onyx horn stuck up from unkempt hair above a bright red eye, while no horn was visible on the other side, where the eye was a murky brown.

    Suddenly his fist was wrapped in the front of my shirt, and I was flying forward. I had just enough time to protect myself with mana before I smashed through the shop’s front window and went sprawling across the street.

    With a moan, I lifted my head from the paving stones and brushed glass out of my beard. A little bell rang, and the front door of the shop opened.

    The Vritra-blooded man dragged Edmon through it. He stopped in front of me, staring down a beaklike nose.

    I trembled with pain and rage. One scarlet eye, one brown eye…


    I spit blood at his feet. “Wolfrum of Highblood Redwater.” Traitor and double-agent. I’d heard of his treachery, how he had nearly captured Lady Caera, but I hadn’t seen him in this form, only as the bent-backed little weasel that had been his cover, and I hadn’t immediately recognized him.

    The ghostly vision of my once-commander, now leaning against the wall behind him, gave me a sad look and an apologetic shake of her head, almost as if she regretted not being flesh and blood so she could help me.

    The sun was behind me, only just peeking over the distant rooftops. Conditions weren’t ideal for any of my magic, but I couldn’t let him take me in without a fight.

    In Wolfrum’s grip, Edmon began to shake and wheeze. “P-please, he made me, I didn’t have a ch-choice! I can tell you whatever you want to know, just don’t hurt—hrk!”

    The silver necklace constricted rapidly, choking off Edmon’s words before sawing into his neck. Blood ran hot and thick down his chest as his face came clearly into view. He stared at me, horrified and confused, his white lips moving wordlessly.

    Sorry Ed, I thought, retracting my mana from the artifact, which assured anonymity in more ways than just hiding one’s face. As Wolfrum regarded the dying man with surprise and irritation, I took advantage of the distraction to begin channeling my emblem, Sun Flare.

    The Vritra-born dropped Edmon unceremoniously on the street. “And the commoners think we’re black-hearted,” he said, turning back to me with one brow raised.

    Mana rushed into Sun Flare, and the glare of the sun blazed across the street, turning the entire sky white. Wolfrum hissed and raised a hand over his closed eyes.

    Activating Myopic Decay, I focused it on my own eyes instead of my enemy’s, dimming my vision against the glare as I scrambled to my feet and made a run for it. Something hit me from behind, lifted and spun me in the air, and slammed me down again. I was vaguely aware of bouncing a couple of times before I came to blessed rest, unmoving. I knew that, this time, I hadn’t escaped unscathed, but as long as I didn’t move, I wouldn’t feel all of the pain quite yet.


    “Hell of a time to quit drinking,” the shade of my commander commented, leaning down beside me.

    “Hell of a time to be dead,” I shot back breathlessly.

    Both my spells had faded, and I expected Wolfrum would be satisfied with my attempt to run. Instead of approaching me, though, he gave a grunt of effort, and there was a dull rush of air.

    I jerked over onto my side, my entire body raw and bruised, but I barely felt it past the roiling of my insides and the clenching of my heart.

    Darrin flew up the street from behind Wolfrum, blasting the Vritra-born with a rapidfire series of wind-lengthened punches and kicks.

    Filled with desperation, I sent out a sharp pulse with Aural Disruption, focused on Wolfrum. He flinched, just missing with a jet of black flames—soulfire—aimed at Darrin’s chest.

    “Damn you, boy,” I grunted, heaving myself to my feet. Every joint from my neck down complained, and I could feel a broken rib stabbing at the soft tissue of my insides. Forcing the pain down, I reached for the third level of Myopic Decay.

    My body became a series of shadowy blurs. I stumbled forward, no longer able to run or even pretend to. My entire plan had fallen apart between one breath and the next. “Go, fool! I’ve got this…under control.”

    Darrin gave no indication he’d heard me as he danced around a series of soulfire bolts carried on black lines of void wind.

    From my dimension artifact, I withdrew a handful of paper-wrapped capsules. Tossing them into the air, I released a quick blast of Aural Disruption, destroying them. Thick smoke began to pour into the street. Very fine, sparkling dust was suspended in the smoke, and I again poured mana into Sun Flare. The dust shone like ten thousand stars, burning through the smoke and making it impossible to see through.

    Bending low, I ran toward where I could still feel the bursts of mana and hear the hiss and pop of spells slamming together. Darrin was falling back into the obscuring cloud, but gusts of void wind were wiping away the cover as quickly as it could form. A black blade appeared in my hand, and I imbued the charwood with as much mana as I could spare to focus on.

    With a sudden burst of Aural Disruption, followed by a lesser casting of Myopic Decay targeted at Wolfrum, I flew past Darrin as he deflected a series of whirling skulls of fire and threw myself at his attacker. Wolfrum’s mismatched eyes narrowed in intense concentration, and a shield of black wind wrapped around him. My blade dragged across the surface of the shield, and our mana sparked and crackled as it fought against each other.

    His proved the stronger, and my weapon failed to pierce his shield.

    I pulled the shortsword to my side and fell forward into a roll, barely avoiding a scything blade of void wind that cut the air behind me.

    “Alaric of Blood Maer.” The Vritra-blood’s voice was like ice water in my face. “You’ve been quite the irritant over these last months. You should have quit while you were ahead. Sticking that bulbous red wart you call a nose into Scythe Dragoth’s affairs will be the end of you.”

    I was back on my feet, my blade held out in front of me. Behind Wolfrum, the cloud was slowly starting to disperse, but I couldn’t see Darrin. A grateful breath escaped me. He’d escaped.

    “Tell you what, boy,” I said, releasing the mana channeling into Sun Flare as the stone dust settled, no longer providing a surface to enhance the light of. A hard box appeared in my left hand, which I kept hidden behind my back. “The war’s over. Your High Sovereign is probably dead, your boss the Scythe was mutilated and embarrassed. My boss, much as she never really was that, is missing and hasn’t made contact with Alacrya since the shockwave. Why don’t we just agree to go our separate ways, aye?” I raised a brow meaningfully. “This continent is hurting. How many mages haven’t recovered yet? Entire cities like this one have shut down. All we’re trying to do is get people back on their feet.”


    Wolfrum’s face had settled into a sneer as I spoke. “The High Sovereign will return, and when he does, we will gift him a mountain of skulls, which is all that will remain of your traitorous faction.”

    I took a step back, my eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route.

    Wolfrum smiled. In his confidence, he relaxed. “Pathetic. I expected more of a man trained as one of Alacrya’s finest spies.” His countenance darkened. “Yes, we know who you are, now. It’s impressive you managed to survive this long. Like any old, sick dog, though, there comes a time when you need to be put down.”

    His hand curled into a fist, and dark fire and wind began condensing around him.

    In the flames to either side of Wolfrum, the shadowy figures appeared again. My old commander, the woman who had helped me escape my service to the High Sovereign, stood to Wolfrum’s right, the shape of her flickering and dancing. To his left, the other woman. The one with the dark bundle in her arms. My wife. My family.

    “It’s your funeral,” I grumbled, although I knew the words were only that.

    A burning skull large enough to swallow me whole coalesced around Wolfrum before plunging forward, its gaping maw open wide. I tossed down the mana cage I’d been clutching. The transparent mana sprang upwards and folded out into a flat, transparent wall between me and him. The skull struck it, and the barrier trembled.

    With a burst of Aural Disruption and as much mana as I could manage into the third level of my crest, I turned and sprang away.

    The street in front of me exploded as a wall of black void wind ripped up through the stones. I slammed hard on my back, the breath crushed out of me by the blow.

    Aching and breathless, I couldn’t move, only watch, as Darrin appeared from the high balcony of a nearby home, his body wrapped in wind-attribute mana. In the half second it took him to fall, a hail of blows struck Wolfrum from behind and above, staggering him. Darrin struck the Vritra-blood with a knee between the shoulder blades, driving Wolfrum to the ground. Fists wrapped in cutting wind fell faster than my wavering, red-stained vision could follow.

    The giant skull of soulfire and void wind erupted. Darrin was lifted off Wolfrum’s back by a blaze of black fire, and the mana barrier shattered with a sound like cracking stone. As if everything moved in slow motion, I saw clearly how the black fire was drawn into Darrin’s open mouth and eyes, even into his pores. I felt the soulfire take root inside his core, the spectral heat of it burning within him.

    He struck the ground like a bag of sand, his body limp, his eyes rolled back into his head.

    With a rush of adrenaline, I threw myself back to my feet and stumbled past Wolfrum, who was himself standing slowly, as if unconcerned for our ongoing battle.

    I barely noticed the screaming of my knees as I fell onto them beside Darrin, gripping his limp hand in my own. “I told you to go,” I moaned, all my strength leaving me.

    The shadow of my old commander knelt across from him. Her fingers brushed across his cheek, not smudging the dirt and blood that stained him.

    “Forgive me, boy,” I choked out as the soulfire was burning away everything that made Darrin himself. I sensed Wolfrum moving behind me, but the danger he posed no longer mattered.
    At the sound of my voice, some life returned to Darrin. He gripped my hand, and his eyes found mine. They were full of dancing soulfire. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a pained groan. His teeth clenched, and his back spasmed. His hand was wrenched from mine.

    The ghost of my commander shifted, suddenly in front of me. Her hands cupped my face, and her piercing brown eyes burrowed into mine. “This isn’t your fault, Alaric.
    None if it has been your fault.”

    I let my head hang. “We both know that’s not true, Cynthia.”

    Strong fingers took me by the hair and dragged me to my feet. “Pick up your friend. So long as you don’t resist further, I’ll withhold my fire. Test me, and he dies in an instant.


    In case you think that you might end his suffering that way, trust me that dying by soulfire is not a fate you would wish on any you care for, and in the end would only increase your own suffering many times over.”

    I spat blood on the ground at my captor’s feet, but I bent down to lift Darrin as he commanded. “You don’t know shit about suffering, boy. Nothing you can do to me now can be worse than what you inbred Vritra dogs have already done.”
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      + 10 -
      Спасибо за главу ,👍
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      1. Offline
        + 50 -
        You're welcome, I added chapter 487. Unfortunately, the fandom on this site died, as did the chapter updates. Sad gloom
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          + 00 -
          Да к сожалению, мне нравится читать именно на этом сайте, но всьо равно главы стоит закидывать,👍👍👍
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    + 10 -
    Походу арка Ефеота в 12 томе не про войну , хз что задумал автор но битвы Артура и Кезес я думаю не будет, скорее они будут решать проблему с переселением
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