“Please?”

Seris was still as stone as Oludari pawed at her, his expectant, pleading face turned upward.

It seemed like something out of a nightmare. No piece of reality as I had been made to understand it fit properly with what I was seeing.

“I have so much work left undone…” Oludari whined, his spiderish fingers kneading at Seris’s robes. “There are layers and layers and layers to the world, just waiting to be peeled back, one by one, but not if I’m gone. Agrona thinks he’s the only one who knows, but I’ve seen the shadows, I’ve felt the rising surface tension of a bubble ready to burst, I…”

The Sovereign choked on his own whimpering and began to cough, his shoulders shaking. When the fit passed, he drooped like a wilted plant.

Blinking as if waking from a deep sleep, Seris glanced around at the frozen crowd, then at Cylrit, and finally to me. For half a second, there was a question in her eyes, one I had no clue how to answer. “What do I do?” her eyes were asking, but even as they touched mine, her expression hardened into resolve as she came to some answer of her own devising.

Slowly, Seris pressed her hand against Oludari’s cheek. “Calm yourself, Sovereign.”

Oludari suddenly took two fistfuls of Seris’s robes and pulled her down a few inches. “Help me! Hide me! The dragons, the Lance, you…you know them! You’ve foiled him before. I don’t understand how, but you have! I command you to do it again! So…so has the Lance. Yes, take me to him. To Arthur Leywin.”

Seris firmly wrenched herself free of his grip, then with the suddenness of a striking thundertail, slapped him hard across the face.

The Sovereign’s head snapped to the side, his blubbering cutting off sharply. “H-how dare you, I….I…”

“Get yourself together,” Seris said, seeming more in control of herself now. She held out her hand, and Oludari took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

The spell over the crowd broke, and most began hurrying away, disappearing into the village. Udon rushed to his brother, helping him up and brushing dirt off his clothes, but Idir pushed him off, hurrying to one of the other farmers.

That farmer, like all the others, was prone, unmoving. I could already feel it in the fading of their mana signatures; they were all dead.

I looked away, angry and frustrated but unsure how to channel my emotions. The carelessness of the asura…

More than a few people lingered, slowly coming closer, their rapturous gazes locked on the Sovereign, apparently oblivious to his current sad state.

“Sovereign. Please, forgive us—”

“—take us home—”

“—only what we must to survive, Sovereign!”

Cylrit slashed his hand through the air, and the rambling pleas went silent, and the people fell back. All except for Lars Isenhaert, who rushed toward the Sovereign.

Oludari’s eyes went wide, and mana spilled out of him.

Isenhaert was lifted from the ground and sent hurtling back into the crowd, knocking down a couple of others. It was enough to finally break their rapture, and they practically stampeded over one another to escape, leaving Lars moaning on the ground. Corbett, Ector, and a woman I recognized as one of Lars’s soldiers hurried to his side.

Seris shot me a look. “We need to get the Sovereign somewhere more safe…for everyone.” She trailed off, her focus shifting past me into the distance.

I turned to look, and my blood ran cold.

On the horizon, the Grand Mountains cut the Elenoir Wastes and the Beast Glades off from the rest of Dicathen. Only moments ago, the snow-capped peaks had been lost in thick white fog. Now, a low black cloud was racing over the mountains. Even as I watched, though, it dipped down the steep cliffs, cascading to the flat ashlands below, and billowed toward us at great speed.

“No,” Oludari moaned. “No no no. He knows. He found me.” Oludari took Seris by the hand, squeezing so tightly that she winced.

“Wraiths…” Seris breathed, pulling herself free of the Sovereign and taking a few halting steps so she was next to me. Her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides.

My frayed nerves shattered. Moving as if in a dream, I turned away from the cloud. My gaze swept across the panicked village, taking in all the people I had worked so hard to protect and help to thrive after the war, people I considered my friends…family, even, to use the Dicathian word.

A better word than ‘blood,’ my near-delirious mind offered up.

Among them were those who had lived these last months in the wasteland, building homes here, learning new skills, putting their hard-won magic to work as farmers, hunters, and craftsmen instead of soldiers…killers. People like the Plainsrunner brothers, like Baldur Vassere. Like the children now huddling around the golden-haired Frost girl, green with fright.

I looked down at Seth, who was still lying on the ground at my feet, his glasses askew. He, like everyone else here, would become nothing but compost to feed the infertile ashen wasteland if caught in a battle between a Vritra Clan basilisk and a battle group of Wraiths.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I had power, incredible magic, and yet next to these beings I was no more dangerous than an unad slave…

“—yra!”

The shouting of my name cut through my brain fog, and I jerked spasmodically. Seris gripped my arm, pulling me to face her. “Find your calm, Lyra, your courage. Discard the rest, it won’t help you now.”

I stared into her eyes, wondering, not for the first time, where this inner strength of hers came from.

I hadn’t known Scythe Seris Vritra well before the war. As a wartime nomination for the position of retainer, I hadn’t been in that club prior to being sent to Dicathen. But I had proven adept at getting the Dicathians to fall in line with minimal bloodshed, and that had aligned with Agrona’s goals for the continent.

During those couple of days working alongside Seris, I had felt repeated pangs of jealousy at the relationship between her and Cylrit. My own Scythe, Cadell, had been cold, distant, and violent. In two days, I felt like I knew more about Seris than I ever had Cadell. My relationship with him had been a matter of military necessity and nothing more, although I had foolishly coveted his strength and the latitude with which the High Sovereign allowed him to do his work.

Doing as Seris said, I layered these thoughts around myself like a weighted blanket, the mental equivalent of a child pulling her comforter up over her head to hide from the mana beasts under the bed…

But it worked, and I felt myself calming. Seris may not have been my Scythe—abyss, she wasn’t even a Scythe anymore—but she had already inspired me, being a better mentor than Cadell or any other teacher or trainer I’d had in my ascension through the ranks of power.

There was no time to do anything else before the Wraiths arrived.

The cloud split into four distinct forms, and several spells rained down on us at once, aimed at Oludari.

I hurled out a barrier of void wind to block a gout of black fire, the collateral damage of which was set to overtake not only Seris, Cylrit, and me, but a dozen other Alacrayns who were still trying to get away.

The Wraith’s soulfire ate through the fabric of my shield, but a second barrier appeared within mine, and a third supported that, redirecting the soulfire to roll harmlessly over us before spilling across three freshly built houses and engulfing them instantly.

As we struggled with the flames, twin bolts of lightning flashed, one striking the ground in the midst of the fleeing crowd, sending up a spray of dark ash and throwing those nearest to the ground, including Corbett and Ector. The other hit Oludari squarely but deflected off his mana barrier before crashing into a distant tree, splitting it in two and causing the dry leaves to burn like so many little candles.

The noise of splintering wood and roaring flames was still ringing in my ears as I felt the surge of mana from below. Seris and Cylrit were already moving, flying into the air and conjuring shields over the screaming bystanders. I grabbed Seth and pulled him into the air just as the ground around Oludari surged upward, a field of blood iron spikes stabbing through as the Wraiths struck from every direction at once.

Oludari clenched his fists, and the blood iron shattered with an ear-splitting shriek. His face was taut with panic and desperation, his intent cascading through the village like a hurricane.

A shadow manifested between us, and the sun glinted off carved blades as they cut toward the Sovereign. His hand snapped up, catching the sword, and with a jerk of his closed fist, he shattered it. His bleeding hand knifed outward, releasing a wide crescent of soulfire that only barely missed me and Seth, but the Wraith had already vanished again.

There was a lull.

Oludari glared into the sky, where the four Wraiths encircled the village at a distance, their killing intent like four raging bonfires closing in on us. The Sovereign grimaced, opening and closing his hand as blood seeped from the small cut he had taken. Sickly green tendrils discolored his pale flesh around the wound.

“Poison,” I whispered to myself.

Oludari snarled, quickly scanning his surroundings, looking for a way out. His demeanor hardened, fear being pushed aside by the will to fight. Grimacing, he shot up into the sky past me.

His body lengthened, swelling with mana as the monster hidden within the humanoid form burst out. He seemed somehow even larger than before, the beating of his wings so fierce it knocked me off balance, his squalling roar enough to take my breath away.

His tail lashed like a giant whip, and a Wraith dipped beneath it. His jaws snapped, closing just short of a retreating shape in the sky. The third Wraith came from the side, taking advantage of Oludari’s distraction to land on the basilisk’s back with twin blades of black ice gleaming in his hands. The last rays of the sun gleamed off the edges as they sheared across the base of an enormous wing. The ice shattered like glass, and the basilisk roared and spun in the air, sending the Wraith flying off.

Fat droplets of dark blood rained down on the encampment below.

As Oludari thrashed and roared, a black web knit itself into the air right in front of him, thin filaments of blood iron affixed to points of condensed shadow. The basilisk tried to veer away, but too late, and crashed at full speed into the webbing.

His bulk drove him through, shattering the construct, but even from below, I could see the network of thin, bloody gashes left all over his serpentine face and body. The blood iron net caught in Oludari’s wings and jaw, sawing back and forth with every movement, cutting more deeply.

A dozen bolts of lightning converged on the metal, wracking Oludari’s transformed body with spasms as the lightning raced along the metal and into the hundreds of little wounds, the two spells working together to bypass the Sovereign’s protective layer of mana. More of the sickly green tendrils were spreading from the cuts on his wings, and heavy ice was condensing along the metal, the weight of it dragging the Sovereign down.

The blood weeping from the cuts suddenly lit on fire, soul flames burning away the blood iron and black ice, and sealing the wounds. On the ground, everywhere a drop of flaming blood fell, it roared and caught alight everything nearby.

A black mist appeared to hover over the crowd, shifting rapidly to absorb as much of the raining, burning blood as possible, Seris’s nullification magic eating it away before it could spread any further.

Still, half the village was already a conflagration.

The streets were full of running people now, going every direction in their confusion, leaderless and rudderless as each was left to fend for themselves.

Contradictory orders were shouted with a dozen disparate voices, helpless nobles wailed for their guards and attendants, and through it all were easily discernible the keening of the wounded and dying as Vritra soulfire coursed through their blood.

The only leader worth her salt was the Frost girl, who had taken the group of children in her care and was leading them toward the Beast Glades and away from the battle.

Shaking free of the enthrallment I had felt at watching the Sovereign battle these Wraiths, I pummeled the dry, hard soil below with a wave of sonic vibration, simultaneously pulling at the ground as it softened, the ash moving like liquid under my power, and dumped the gray slurry atop as many flames as I could, burying entire houses where I could sense no mana signatures.

Above, Oludari closed on a Wraith, his jaws opening to unleash a torrent of black flames.

The Wraith launched upward over the fire, spun, and plunged down atop the speeding basilisk, dozens of knives conjured from dark ice hailing down around him.

Those that didn’t strike Oludari pummeled Seris’s spell, most dissolving harmlessly, but enough still made it through to shred the buildings and people beneath them. I could do nothing but watch as bodies tumbled to the ground, blood running freely from holes punched through them.

Oludari screeched, his long neck and head twisting at random as soulfire continued to spill from his jaws. Below, another house went up in flames, then another. The wind kicked up by the battle sent sparks drifting all the way to the Beast Glades, and I could already see little lines of smoke curling up from the dense forest.

Everything had happened so quickly; people were still picking themselves up from the initial lightning strike. Ector stumbled away from the crater, his hand pressed to his ear, his eyes unfocused. Something exploded. Almost as if in slow motion, I watched as he was lifted up off the ground, a jagged shard of broken blood iron piercing his chest. His body tumbled over the ground when it landed, and by the time it stopped, I knew he was dead.

The faces of the crowd blurred, the details lost among the smoke and the shadows. Someone else went up in a gout of black flames, their scream choked out as the oxygen burned from their lungs. Another was buried as a house collapsed just as they ran past it, the outer wall swallowing them.

On the fringes of the encampment, small figures were pouring out into the flat gray emptiness.

I threw up another shield as a gust of wind pushed the flames of a nearby building too close to a group of retreating villagers, giving them time to drag themselves away from it.

I searched for Seris through the chaos, hoping to find some guidance or direction, but what I saw instead wrapped an icy fist around my frantically beating heart.

Cylrit was holding Seris up, his arm around her waist as she continued to channel her void spell, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other directing the mist like a conductor with an orchestra, absorbing and unmaking as many stray attacks as she could.

But…she had arrived in Dicathen weakened by her long trials in the Relictombs. I had known that. But I hadn’t—I saw now—really understood it.

She hadn’t shown anyone the truth, keeping the face she presented to the world stoic and capable. But a lifetime of practice at putting up a strong front didn’t correct an overstrained core. And her unique void wind technique took a significant amount of mana to channel, so much that she had already put herself on the edge of backlash countering such powerful spells.

And the battle has only just begun.

It was at that moment when I truly understood the reality of our situation.

Oludari was powerful—a full-blooded asura—but he was no warrior. Already, I could sense his strength flagging, his desperation building. The sickly green tendrils that discolored his black scales radiated a discomforting mana that made my stomach churn, and I knew it must be some kind of poison, perhaps even made specifically for this purpose…

It was clear that the Wraiths would do what they were trained to do. Even as Oludari attacked two or three at once, the fourth was always able to land a strike against the Sovereign, their offense and defense woven together in a mesmerizing concert of dealing damage and death. There was no way Oludari could win. They would kill him, and there was nothing we could do to stop them.

Then they would turn on us.

A frantic thought to reach out to Arthur for help flailed in my head, but I knew that wasn’t possible. He was far away in Etistin, and I had no way to—

“Seris!” Still holding Seth against my side, I flew up to her, dodging as a broken black spike careened through the air from above. “The tempus warp, where—”

She pulled a brooch off her robes and tossed it to me. I immediately imbued it with mana, sensing its contents. Among a variety of supplies and gear was the tempus warp, and I drew it out and plunged to the ground, releasing the breathless Seth Milview so I could focus on the artifact.

It was a powerful one, capable of reaching from one continent to the other. It would have no problem getting me to the palace in Etistin, where I only had to find Arthur. How long would it take? A minute? Two? Ten?

Will anyone here be alive by the time I—

Even as my mana activated and calibrated the tempus warp, a shadow appeared in front of me, casting the artifact in a deeper darkness than the cover of smoke and void mist already provided.

I had only one painful thud of my heart to consider the narrow, pale, axelike face in front of me before he lashed out with a forward kick at my chest.

The air between us distorted, black lines of sonic vibration rippling visibly for an instant before his blow struck home, shattering my defenses.

The world pulled away from me—or I from it—and space seemed to rush by in an instant.

I hit the ground hard, tumbling like a ragdoll.

My core ached from the force of the impact as I instinctively felt for my mana, grabbing the ground and pulling it up and around me, a cushioning barricade to halt my wild roll. Before I could even wrap my head around what had happened, I was back on my feet and flying toward the tempus warp and the Wraith standing over it.

He raised the index finger of his right hand, shaking it back and forth as if scolding a naughty child. Then his black blades of conjured ice swept down, carving through the tempus warp as easily as soft butter.

Only a couple feet away, Seth stood paralyzed—but no, he wasn’t frozen. He was moving…casting, channeling mana into his runes. Blue light spilled out of the boy, creating a powerful magical barrier that extended a few feet in every direction from his core. A Shield emblem? But that didn’t seem right…

The barrier hit the Wraith as it swelled, knocking him back half a step. A cold sneer appeared on that axelike face, and then his blade was swinging.

I threw up my hands, drawing stone up from the barren ash outside of Seth’s own shield and conjuring a field of absorbing static, but the blade was too fast, too strong. It sliced through both my half-formed spells, then met the blue barrier.

Seth’s spell shattered, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground at my feet, the blur of ice-formed blades in the air where he had been.

In the empty second I had to react, I considered whether I could protect him or not. Was it worth giving up my life to delay his death by the blink of an eye? If I fled, perhaps the Wraith would follow me instead of focusing on the boy, who was insignificant in the Wraith’s eyes.

Once, perhaps, I’d have killed him myself, just to remove the distraction…

Goosebumps rose up all over my skin and I leaped over Seth and fell into a crouch, holding up my arm and channeling mana without forming a spell yet. I swallowed hard, some well of emotion emptying inside of me. Even though I couldn’t hope to protect the boy, I couldn’t do nothing. At least he will die knowing I tried…

The Wraith cocked his head, regarding me. His blood-red eyes, dark and soulless, filled with…was it pity I saw reflected back at me? With another sneer, he shot into the air and sped back toward the battle with Oludari.

Spinning on my knees, I felt the boy’s face, his neck, searching for any signs of life but expecting the worst. There was no breath, no pulse, no rising and falling of his chest—

The faint bump bump pressed against my fingertips, and I closed my eyes in relief. He was alive, but unconscious, his core screaming as he suffered backlash from channeling such a powerful spell through his emblem.

A roar shook the ground, snapping my eyes back open and dragging them skyward.

Oludari was falling, plunging out of the air, cuts in the fabric of his wings flapping against the rushing wind of his passage, blood weeping from a thousand wounds across his gargantuan body. No longer intimidating, his wounded basilisk form instead filled me with a deep sense of dread, like a tattered flag falling and marking the end of the battle.

When he hit the ground, it was as if a meteor struck. A dozen buildings vanished beneath his bulk before a cloud of dust and ash swallowed him. Four black figures moved into formation above, encircling where the basilisk had fallen before drifting slowly to the ground.

Seris and Cylrit did the same next to me. Cylrit appeared to be taking the majority of her weight on himself. His gray skin had gone nearly white, and a fine sheen of sweat clung to his brow. He, like the Scythe he protected, had pushed himself to the limit.

We were alone, or nearly so. Everyone else had fled, at least those who were capable. Many, far too many, had perished in the crossfire. With a weary glance, I found the corpses of Ector Ainsworth, both the Plainsrunner brothers, and Anvald Torpor. There were others I couldn’t identify as easily. And that was just in the space directly around me.

How many died across the encampment? I wondered despite myself, then pushed the question away.

I sensed the change in the mana as Oludari reverted back to his humanoid form. His silhouette appeared through the ash as he stumbled, coughing, free of the rubble his fall had created. The Wraiths were waiting for him.

“P-please,” he coughed, sounding utterly pathetic. “I’ll go back, I will, just don’t…don’t…” He fell to his knees, coughing spasmodically, his thin body wracking horribly. He was still bleeding from a dozen wounds, his body completely covered in the green tendrils discoloring his flesh. “Don’t kill me,” he finished weakly.

One of the Wraiths, a lithe, graceful woman in black and gray leather and chain, clicked her tongue. She brushed jet black hair out of her face, tucking it behind one of the horns that swept back from her forehead, and took a step toward the Sovereign. He flinched, and she chuckled darkly.

“Your life is not ours to take this day, oh great Sovereign.” Her hand snapped out and gripped one of his horns. “Although we are not required to return you in one piece, should you think to challenge us further.”

Black lightning crackled from her fist to dance down the horn and into Oludari’s skull. He groaned, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground unconscious.

The Wraith scoffed and turned away, her deep red eyes, so dark they were almost black, searching the village and landing on Seris, Cylrit, and me. She started walking toward us, her stride as casual as if she were strolling along Central Boulevard in Cargidan City.

The axe-faced Wraith who had destroyed the tempus warp moved in behind her and scooped up the asura, tossing him over one shoulder. The other two moved to his side, and I got a good look at them for the first time. One was missing an arm and half his face was cracked, black, and bleeding. The other had tears of blood leaking from his eyes and a vacant expression on his otherwise stalwart face.

At least Oludari didn’t go down without a fight, I thought vaguely, immediately recognizing how strange it was to find myself on the Sovereign’s side, considering.

“Seris the Unblooded. Retainers Cylrit and Lyra.” She smiled, revealing elongated canines, then glanced around at the smoldering ruins of the village. “This is interesting.”

Cylrit leveled his blade at the Wraith, his intent pressing outward to add weight to his words as he said, “Return to your shadows, ghost. The fact that we’re still breathing tells me your master hasn’t commanded you to bite, only to show your teeth.”

Her smile hardened into something more dangerous as she ran her tongue over one protruding canine. “You’re right, although I wouldn’t trust my leash should you keep barking, boy. The High Sovereign’s disappointment would be…mild at best if I returned with your heads mounted proudly on the Sovereign’s horns.”

“Perhata, quit playing with your food,” the axe-faced Wraith shouted. “We have what we came for, and the others are in need of healing.”

“It’s just an arm,” the burned Wraith grumbled, looking down at his ruined side. “I could still mop up these three traitors if—”

The woman, Perhata, raised a hand, and the others went silent. “Victory ripped from the jaws of defeat, as it were. We hadn’t even heard of Oludari’s flight from Alacrya when we sensed him bumbling about in the Beast Glades. Had your Dicathian friend, the Lance, not interrupted our previous work, we may not have made it here in time.” Her smile sharpened yet further, like a dagger slash across her face. “Really, without this Lance—Arthur Leywin?—a couple dragons would be dead, but a lot more Alacryans would be alive.”

I scoffed. “If you don’t intend to kill us, then you better be on your way. After all, you don’t want to risk facing off against Arthur, do you?”

Seris shot me a warning look, but my blood was burning too hot to feel chastised. “I recognize your name, Wraith. It was one even Cadell said with a note of fear. Named among the nameless and faceless…you must truly be a terror on the battlefield. And yet, I notice there are only four of you—well, three and a half. I always thought there were meant to be five Wraiths to a battle group? Could even you not defend your battle group against the Godspell?”

Axe-face took a few aggressive steps forward. “What you’ve always thought is worth less than the rag I clean my ass with, you slag.”

Again, Perhata gestured for quiet. She tilted her head slightly as she regarded Seris. When a lock of dark hair fell out, she again placed it back behind her horns. “You are granted a reprieve today. These soldiers still belong to Agrona, and you are their generals. Soon, they’ll be needed again. The time to play farmer and backwater governor is over. When Agrona gives the order, you and your forces will march. They will fight for him, because if they don’t, Agrona will burn the cores from every member of every traitorous blood on either side of the great ocean.”

She stepped forward until Cylrit’s blade pressed into her sternum. Her presence alone was enough to make my knees quake.

Her eyes settled on Seris’s. “Personally, I hope you defy him. I’ll beg to be the one who gets to return here and rip the core from your chest, Unblooded, for you are a shadow of what you once were. But the reality is, we all know you won’t. You can’t. When Agrona gives the order, you will answer. It is the only way.” Casually, she reached up and wrapped her fist around Cylrit’s sword. With a subtle twist, the blade shattered.

Cylrit gasped and dropped the hilt onto the hard-packed ash, staring at his shaking hand in disbelief.

“Soon,” Perhata said again, taking a few steps backwards before spinning around and signaling to the other Wraiths.

The four of them flew into the air and sped north over the wasteland, vanishing in seconds. The pressure of their mana, though, lasted much longer, and when that had faded, there was the emptiness it left behind.

Seris sagged, and Cylrit hurried to let her down gently to the ground. Her eyes were closed, her breathing labored.

Cylrit’s eyes met mine. “Go. Tell Arthur what happened. I will—”

Seris’s hand lifted, silencing Cylrit as he kneeled next to her. She opened it, revealing a disc about an inch and a half in diameter. It was yellow-white in color, and a rune had been carved into it. From the rusty reddish-brown coloration of the rune, it was inked in blood.

“Give this…to Arthur,” Seris said, her voice hoarse with fatigue.

I carefully took the disc from her hand, remembering Seris’s pained expression as Oludari crushed her hand in his. Giving her this, I now knew.

Standing, I turned away from Seris and Cylrit only to almost step on Seth Milview, who was just beginning to stir. The airwaves vibrated between us as I sent out a pulse of sonic mana, and he jolted awake.

I held up a hand, forestalling any attempt he might make to speak. “Seth. The people here need help. Every able body. Many have fled into the wastes or toward the neighboring encampments. Some went into the forest. Round up who you can and bring them back to clear the village.”

His dilated eyes narrowed as he struggled to understand. I responded with a second pulse of vibration, and he yelped and jumped to his feet.

“This is important, Seth. Can you do it?”

Swallowing visibly, he nodded.

I reached out and fixed his glasses, which were hanging half off his face. “Good.”

My feet left the ground as mana lifted me into the air, and in seconds I too was speeding over the Beast Glades in a headlong rush toward the nearest teleportation gate, the Wraith’s words still ringing in my head.

“When Agrona gives the order, you will answer.”