ARTHUR LEYWIN

Vajrakor’s tense steps carried him from left to right and back again in front of the dwarven throne. The noise of each footfall was muffled by the thick red rug that ran the length of the throne room, a cool, cavernous chamber held up by tall carved stone arches. Vajrakor was staring at his feet but stole a glance at me or the other people in the room every couple of steps. A single asuran guard stood to the left of the throne, staring straight ahead.

Just as the silence reached the point of becoming frustrating, he said, “So why not bury yourself in the deepest hole you can find, somewhere no one can dig you out?”

“I considered it,” I admitted. “Spreading a story that I’d be going on an extended Relictombs trip or something to make sure my absence didn’t spark a panic and then, as you said, hiding somewhere I’m unlikely to be found. But the Legacy is in Dicathen, or at least she was, which means Agrona is preparing something. He’s escalating.”

Curtis Glayder, standing near Vajrakor with his sister, frowned as he asked, “Forgive me, Arthur, but why does her presence matter so much?”

“Because something important is happening just behind the curtain, but we don’t know what,” I answered, keeping my voice level. “But more importantly, the Legacy has a sense and control of magic that I can’t even explain. And she’s shown some understanding of the way mana and aether interact with each other, meaning I can’t be sure I can truly hide anywhere. Not without her hunting me down.”

“But she can’t follow you to the Relictombs,” Caera asked, her first words since the meeting began. “Why not sequester yourself away within them—you could find somewhere safe with the Compass, I’m sure—and wait it out there.”

I shook my head. “I’ve already tested this theory. I can’t breach the keystone’s security measures within the Relictombs. Something about this one is different.”

A tense lull fell over the conversation, and I looked around at all those present, meeting each of their eyes in turn.

Bairon Wykes stood straight and tall beside Virion, who in turn seemed somehow thin and diminished, even though his gaze remained unwavering and his posture was poised.

Next to them, Gideon and Wren Kain both hovered impatiently. A straight-backed woman stood with her hands behind her back at their side, her torso bare except for a strip of dark cloth across her chest. She was covered in scars.

Caera stood just behind them, almost as if she were using them to shield herself from Vajrakor. Her red eyes caught mine, and she bobbed her head slightly, her azure hair shifting around the visible horns wrapping around her head. Regis was at her side, settled protectively between her and the dragons, who he glowered at unabashedly.

Mica and Varay were present as well. Mica was unsettled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other constantly. Her remaining eye jumped from person to person in an endless loop, while the jet black stone of her other seemed as if it were constantly fixed on me. Next to her, Varay was still as a block of ice,her short white hair fixed and unmoving.

Across from Virion, near Vajrakor, the Glayders both stood with perfect royal posture. Despite obvious efforts not to, they both kept shooting furtive glances at the scarred soldier next to Gideon.

Beside them and closer to me, Helen Shard stood a little back from the crowd with Jasmine, the two adventurers slightly out of place among the royalty and asura. Of everyone present, it was these two old friends—who I had known longer than even Tessia and Virion—that brought me comfort, which perhaps only made what I had to ask them even more difficult.

Finally, standing at my side like a shadow, was Ellie. She fidgeted nervously, her eyes focused anywhere except the other people in the room. The unstrung bow version of Aldir’s weapon, Silverlight, was strapped to her back. She hadn’t yet learned to use it, but I figured its presence brought her comfort.

Virion let out a low, thoughtful hum. “So why these locations specifically, then? Why this many?”

I gave him a soft smile as I shook my head. “I know my request is made more difficult by my inability to provide a thorough explanation. But this operation requires a certain amount of secrecy. I really can’t tell you more.”

“So far, you’ve spoken as if you know we’ll be attacked,” Helen said, “but you haven’t even told us what this is about. How can you be so certain the enemy will strike now?”

“I can’t,” I answered simply. “This could all end up being unnecessary, but preparation is never wasted, especially in war. Agrona has proven more than adept at infiltrating and turning even the highest levels of our leadership. His spies have infested Dicathen for decades, and he has been ahead of us at nearly every turn. It would be foolish to simply hope that he won’t discover and attempt to take advantage of my absence, either to come after me directly or to launch some kind of attack on Dicathen. We have to be ready.”

Kathyln’s brows rose slightly, and her eyes flashed to mine. “These places—they will become targets. That’s what you intend.”

Ellie shifted beside me, and I rested my hand on her shoulder, shooting her a warning look. “These locations will, by the very effort of our actions, likely become Agrona’s targets, yes. It allows us to fortify and prepare in a way we can’t otherwise, and protects less defensible areas through deflection.”

“So we’re putting our people in more danger than they might otherwise be by following along with your request,” Kathyln replied, quiet but cutting.

“Unless Etistin were to become a target anyway,” Jasmine answered, dismissing the younger woman with a single look.

Curtis shot Jasmine a glare but backed down quickly when she matched it, her light red eyes flaring like cinders.

“I fail to see how the elves can be of assistance here,” Virion said, sounding tired. “We are no longer a military force in this world, Arthur, as you well know.”

“It’s not the elves I need,” I explained gently. “It is you, Virion. You were the commander of the Tri-Union’s forces during the war. No one else here can match your strategic and military mind.” No one else that I can trust, at least.

Vajrakor scowled at this but did not interrupt. Virion frowned as well, but his expression communicated something very different from the dragon’s.

Other concerns were voiced, and I did my best to ease them without downplaying the dangers. It was important that each of the leaders present understood what was being asked of them and what they would in turn be asking of their fighting men and women. These were the decisions required of rulers, but the fact that I couldn’t be fully honest with them weighed heavy on my conscience. If people were going to die while I chased Fate, they deserved to be prepared, even if they couldn’t know the truth of why.

Wren hummed into the silence that followed their flurry of questions. “And do these fortifications require the same escalated timeline as my—our,” he amended, looking pointedly at Gideon, “project?”

Raising my chin, I met the many pairs of eyes turned in my direction in a single sweep. “Two weeks. That’s all the time we can afford to make preparations. I’d like to do it sooner, but I understand what I’m asking can’t be completed overnight.”

“Two weeks!” Vajrakor said with a booming, humorless laugh. “Two months would not be sufficient.”

Wren’s brows raised into his unkempt hairline, and he gave me a look that said very clearly, ‘I told you so.’

“My task can’t wait any longer than that. If possible—and if the risk to Dicathen weren’t so high—I would have started already.” Sensing the right moment for a distraction, I shot Wren a look and nodded subtly. “You all need time to think things over. I understand. I would like to speak with each of you individually to better answer your questions and plan the appropriate defenses. But while you are together, I wanted to give Master Gideon an opportunity to speak as well.”

The old inventor cleared his throat and scratched his head as all eyes turned to him.

“As some of you are likely aware, we are currently working on a military project designed to help even the odds against Agrona’s superior number of mages,” Gideon explained. He provided an overview of the fire salt-infused weapons, which the Forgemasters and Earthmovers Guilds were already working to produce in larger numbers. Then, he gestured to the woman at his side. “Claire, would you care to speak about the other project?”

Moving with a stringent military march, her long scarlet hair bouncing with each forceful step, she strode out into the middle of the chamber. Wearing only the strip of dark cloth and a pair of tight-fitting leather breaches, the large jagged scar across her sternum was plainly visible. Although this scar was old and healed over, fresher scars radiated out from around it, the newest still red and irritated—only recently healed.

“Officer Claire Bladeheart, current operator of unit zero-zero-one,” she said with clipped military precision, then bowed, first to Vajrakor, then to everyone else.

Kathyln wore a subdued but proud smile, while Curtis’s eyes kept being dragged down to the scars on Claire’s torso before snapping back up to her face.

She immediately launched into what sounded like a rehearsed explanation about her role in the secret project, giving those in attendance the full details of the new weapons and what they were capable of. “With the provided timeline, I believe that we’ll have at least twelve candidates who will be able to offer instruction to the new cadets, once the next batch of units are made.”

“And how many of these…units will be operable in the next two weeks?” Bairon asked skeptically.

“Perhaps a hundred or close to it—if we have the people to use them.”

Mica snorted. “Can a hundred make a difference? And against not Scythes, but these Wraith things, or hells, even asura.”

Claire went back and forth with a few of the others, offering some additional specifics on the capabilities of the project.

As I listened to her explain things I already knew, I felt my insides squirm slightly with discomfort. There was a certain kind of morbid edge to Wren and Gideon’s invention, but I understood the necessity. Perhaps, with time, the implementation could be more palatable. At the very least, it was an invention entirely of this world, created by Wren and Gideon alone, the fusion of human and asuran ingenuity.

More so than the explanation itself, I found myself focused on Claire. I had only just learned of her participation as an operator, but there was something correct about her presence. My old classmate, the head of the Disciplinary Committee at Xyrus Academy. It had been around six years since her core was destroyed during Draneeve’s attack on the academy, and when I’d last seen her, she had been a ghost of her former self.

Now she stood straight and proud, her explanation firm and exuding ambition.

It gave me hope.

After a lengthy discussion about the project, Claire left, and Gideon and Wren went with her, excusing themselves to return to their work, which was now on an aggressive timetable. That seemed to be a signal for the others to break free as well, but I promised to visit each of them as soon as possible and offer any assistance I could in order to put my plan into action. Caera hesitated, but I sent her out with a subtle gesture, and Regis returned to my side.

Ellie, the last to leave, gave me a quick side hug. “Should I wait?”

“No, you’re dismissed, soldier,” I said teasingly. “I’ll find you again soon so we can practice.”

Nodding, she hurried out, leaving only Vajrakor and his guard with me in the throne room. The Guardian eased himself down on the throne, watching me curiously.

“I don’t intend to draw more attention to Vildorial, but I’m afraid it will be a target anyway,” I said, moving to stand before the throne, which meant I had to look up at Vajrakor. “You need to be ready. I can’t say what Agrona might throw at you.”

He scoffed. “You mean, if he attacks at all. You seem to be suffering from some mythical thinking in regards to Agrona, as if he has some magical insight into all that happens. It seems to me that even telling this group was a mistake.” Vajrakor leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “We haven’t even seen any sign of the Legacy, as you so seem to fear.”

“That doesn’t change the reality of our situation, which is that I refuse to discount Agrona’s ability to see and take advantage of our weaknesses. Now, let us discuss what Vildorial can do to prepare for another potential attack.”

***

After a frustrating conversation with Vajrakor, I left with Regis on my heels, already turning my thoughts toward the next conversation I needed to have, but I felt the weight lift from my shoulders as I entered the outer chamber of the palace entry and found Sylvie waiting for me.

Despite her aging through the process of her “death” and “rebirth,” Sylvie still looked young standing apart from the few clan lords and high-ranking guild members who lingered around the palace. Once, she stood out wherever she went, with her dark horns jutting up from her pale blonde hair, but now she wasn’t even the only dragon in the room, as another of Vajrakor’s guards lingered near the entryway, looming over everyone who came and went.

How did things go with the survivors?

‘Well enough,’ she thought back, a throughline of sadness undercutting her words. ‘Those people—the few who survived—won’t recover quickly from the trauma they’ve gone through.’

‘From one tragedy to the next…’ Regis added darkly.

I cleared my throat and indicated for her to follow me, leaving the palace and heading upward along the tunnels and stairs leading toward Virion’s retreat. Sylvie filled me in on everything happening in Xyrus as we walked.

Entering the cavern housing the last remaining tree from Elenoir was sort of like going through a portal into another world. So bright and green, it was easy to forget you were underground.

The cavern had changed somewhat since we were last there. A large section of the ground had been tilled and was now growing a variety of plants, mostly small tree seedlings. Virion was on his hands and knees in the soil, carefully uprooting one of the seedlings with a trowel. Bairon stood behind him wearing a pair of gardening gloves and holding a glass jar half full of soil.

“You’re early,” Virion grumbled under his breath, easing the seedling down into the jar, which Bairon carefully set aside in a cart full of similar jarred plants. “I assumed Vajrakor would keep you all day.”

“What’s all this then?” I asked, leading Sylvie and Regis over to the garden. Glancing at Bairon, I added, “That’s a good look for you.”

He regarded me with his usual coolness. “Whether I wear steel gauntlets or leather gardening gloves, I do so for the good of Dicathen.”

Virion gave a loud and indelicate snort. “I’ve been experimenting with the soil from Epheotus and the seedlings of this great tree. We’ve already even transplanted a few to various out-of-the-way regions around the Elenoir Wastes. I’m hoping to extrapolate the unique qualities of the soil and how it affects the seeds, but Tessia was always the expert in plant-attribute mana.”

Quiet fell as the old elf stared down into the jar.

“Tessia…” Virion lifted his gaze, searching mine for any semblance of hope. “How does she fit into all of this?”

I had expected this from him and had spent quite a lot of time considering how to handle the Legacy. “If Agrona attacks, we have to expect that the Legacy will be at the forefront. Not to put too fine a point on it”—I met Bairon’s hard gaze—“but no one other than me can hope to even delay her, much less put up a fight. Even I’m not sure I can defeat her in battle. Which is why we’re not going to fight her at all.”

I raised my hand, forestalling the barrage of questions I was certain were coming. “I can’t give you the details, but I’ve already got a plan on how to remove her from the battle, at least for a while—without harming Tessia,” I added hurriedly as a scowl formed on Virion’s face. “As for you, I apologize for putting you on the spot earlier, in the meeting. You are right. You should take your people and go hide somewhere, away from the likely targets. The borderlands at the base of the Grand Mountains, perhaps, or northeast Sapin where there is nothing to draw Agrona’s attention.”

Virion stood, seeming to shake off some of the fatigue and tiredness. He gave me a penetrating look. “No, you were right. Vajrakor and the dragons can’t be trusted to keep the best interests of the human and dwarven soldiers in mind. I can’t leave the protection of this continent to the same creatures that destroyed my homeland, Arthur.”

I mulled over my words before saying, “There is no shame to stay out of the fighting, not after everything that your people have already sacrificed to this war. Elenoir deserves to be replanted, and you deserve to be the one who accomplishes that.”

As Virion swallowed heavily, Bairon shifted, taking a half-step closer.

“Perhaps regrowing the forests of Elenoir won’t be enough to balm the guilt of my many failures,” Virion said, his gravelly voice softening to barely above a whisper. “And if I keep fighting, maybe I won’t even live to see it. If that’s what it takes to ensure that the elves are, one day, able to return to the forests that birthed them, then that is a sacrifice I am willing to make.” He took a steadying breath. “Although, if I had one last wish, it would be to walk beneath the trees of Elshire once more with Tessia at my side. Then, I can call my time in this world well spent.”

Reaching out, I wrapped my arms around his thin body, foolishly afraid that I might snap him in half as I gave him a light hug. “Thank you for everything, Gramps.”

He let out a rough snort. “Brat.”

With a firm shake of Bairon’s hand, I gathered Sylvie and Regis, and we headed back down the long stairs that would return us to the palace. From there, my next stop was deep beneath the city, and so we wound down the highway that circled the city, built into the great cavern’s walls.

Once we were beyond the populated part of the city, I channeled King’s Gambit. By lightly imbuing the godrune with aether, I could activate it only partially. While it still glowed golden from my spine, it didn’t conjure the blazing crown atop my head—which seemed like a great way to start any number of unwanted rumors about me.

The result was an ability less powerful than what I’d used against Oludari but still allowed me to break my thoughts apart into pieces in a way that wasn’t possible without the godrune. I’d already found this invaluable as I outlined the many layers present in the plan I was attempting to put into place.

Sylvie and Regis followed my thoughts quietly, struggling to keep in tune as I considered my previous conversations, how the attitudes of everyone involved might impact the execution of this plan, and also outlining the conversations to come. There was a cold comfort to being under the effects of King’s Gambit; it was easier to strip away the emotion—all the fear and guilt—and approach the necessary solution objectively and logically.

With my plan still sitting in its box like a jigsaw puzzle divided into many disparate pieces, it was difficult to see it all without the godrune, and so I’d been spending every spare moment with King’s Gambit active.

As we crossed into one of the larger caves on the way to the deep workshops, a flash from Regis dragged all of my threads of thought back into alignment.

Caera stood by herself atop a flat rock that divided a stream running through the cave. Her figure was little more than a silhouette in the flickering light of a fire that burned from the stream’s shore.

Moving slowly, she drew in a breath and then pushed her hands outward. Light filled the cave as a fiery wave of heat rolled out of her, the water hissing and steaming in response. I squinted through the heat distortion as Caera seemed to vanish, melting into the shadows and steam. She flickered in and out of view, then the heatwave and steam both diminished.

Only then did she turn to look at us, a pleased smile half suppressed. “I was hoping you’d be down soon.

“Caera,” I said in greeting. “How is your family?”

“Fine,” she said simply. “Shaken up and, I think, questioning their decision to follow Seris…not really, but you know what I mean. I couldn’t bring myself to stay out in those wastes with them, though, and I’m glad I returned. I’ve been helping Gideon and Emily with the next stage of their testing with the spellforms. They wanted to study Alacryan runes, and to see if someone who already had some would experience these…spellforms differently.”

“I assumed,” I said simply, gesturing to the stream that had, only moments ago, been hissing with steam.

A grin suddenly bloomed over her features, and she half turned and pulled up her shirt, revealing the runes hidden beneath, including one higher and larger than the rest. “I received a Regalia! Or—” She cut herself off, seeming to realize the position she was in, and then slowly lowered her shirt. Clearing her throat, she continued, “That…wasn’t very ladylike. I apologize.”

I heard the words preparing to bubble up out of Regis like a geyser before he had quite started to speak, and I trod heavily on his foot.

“No, it wasn’t,” I answered, although I didn’t try to hide the laughter in my tone.

“Anyway, there is something distinctly less…forceful about the Dicathian application of spellforms,” she said, wry amusement lending a cutting edge to her tone. “I’m not entirely certain that these spellforms align to the same classifications used in Alacrya, especially for those of us who have benefited from your…proximity.” She glanced away, one hand feathering through her hair as she tucked it back behind her horns.

I was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, then I turned to my companions. “Could I…have a moment alone with Caera, please?”

Sylvie’s brows rose a fraction of an inch before she controlled her expression. Putting a hand on Regis’s mane, she said only, “Of course. We’ll continue on, then.”

“Whoa, uncool. We’re the horny trio, remember, trio, not the—”

Grabbing one of his horns, Sylvie steered Regis away, cutting off his protests. Caera raised her hand in a small wave, then regarded me thoughtfully.

I waited until they were gone and raised the mental barrier between us. “Do you know what we’re doing down here?”

She hesitated. “I’ve seen the mana beasts, but nothing more. Gideon rambles sometimes, but Emily Watskin seems efficient at keeping him on track.”

I took a couple steps closer, stopping just on the bank of the stream, and stared down at my feet. “I’m sorry, Caera.”

Although I wasn’t looking at her, I heard the shifting of her posture. “What for?”

I shook my head, struggling with the words. My thoughts jumped immediately to King’s Gambit, but I pulled back from the idea, not wanting to give this task over to the cold logic of the godrune. “There is something I haven’t been able to get out of my head. In Etistin, after the attack on Oludari, Lyra had lied about something, but the lie wasn’t for us. It was for the dragons. And I know why.”

I took a fortifying breath and held her gaze. “Agrona plans to use the Alacryans on Dicathen. He ordered his Wraiths to leave them alive, but also to send them a message. I’ve seen the curses your people can wield—that Agrona can wield. A Wraith detonated right in front of me before he could spill any of Agrona’s secrets.”

“You believe you can’t trust me because of my Alacryan blood.” She frowned at me, puzzled. “But I’ve been among those people, Arthur. There are no loyalists among them, not after everything they’ve seen and experienced. I’ve never heard of anything like that happening to regular foot soldiers. Surely he—”

“I don’t know how or what kind of power he has over your people, but the threat was real enough that Lyra couldn’t even speak the idea in front of others. I’m sorry, Caera. You can’t be involved in any of this. You can’t know what we’re doing…none of it.”

Her head drooped, a curtain of blue hair falling over her face. Only a moment passed before she shook her hair out of her face, looking at me calmly. “After everything, all our time together—meeting my parents, sharing my bedroll—it all comes down to blood in the end.” Despite her best efforts to make the statement sound like a joke, she didn’t quite manage it.

“It’s not as simple as that—”

“Oh, Arthur,” she said, adopting the forced formality of her upbringing. Stepping down into the water, she waded across until she was standing in front of me, still up to her ankles in the cold stream. “I may be an Alacryan, but I’m a highblood. I can take bad news in stride.”

She held out her hand like a royal waiting for supplication. I took it, bent low, and pressed my lips to the back of her gloved hand, playing along. But when I looked up at her face, there were tears in her eyes.

Then her hand pulled out of mine, and she marched away, water flinging ahead of her with each step. As she reached the cave’s exit, however, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “I wonder how all this might have been different if I was born on this continent. Might we have met under different circumstances, what could our relationship have become?”

As she disappeared into the darkness of the tunnels, I forced myself not to call out to her. I’d done what needed to be done, and I couldn’t take it back. Not if I was going to keep Dicathen safe.

It took a few minutes for me to get moving again, and I took my time as I marched along the downward tunnels toward the massive facility Wren and Gideon had built in the depths.

A handful of dwarven guards stood at attention outside a heavy vault door, but the door was ajar, and they pulled it open as soon as they saw me, likely already expecting me from Regis and Sylvie’s arrival.

Inside, a small room was surrounded by mana-infused glass windows that looked down on the rest of the complex. Regis, Sylvie, Wren, Gideon, and Emily were already there, and their conversation died down as I entered.

Emily crossed her arms as I approached and gave me a look that was half pout, half scowl. “Two weeks? Are you nuts?”

I couldn’t bring myself to smile. “I’m certain you can do it. Because there isn’t any other choice.” To Wren, I added, “I’ve figured out the rest. I know what I need you to do.”

***

“Once I enter, no one else comes in under any circumstances,” I explained, walking away from the chamber Senyir had built at the roots of the Wall itself.

“We understand,” Helen answered, following me with the others as we headed for the elevator that would take us to the top of the Wall. “With the Adventurers Guild taking over fortification of the Wall, it’ll be a lot easier to ensure your safety while holed up here. Many of the soldiers who were stationed here—although good, loyal men—hadn’t gone home since before the war started.”

“And the civilians have all been evacuated?”

I glanced between Helen, Jasmine, Angela Rose, and Senyir, Jasmine’s older sister. Senyir was taller and more muscular than Jasmine but had the same red eyes and dark hair. Her skin was tanned a deep almond in color—a testament to long hours working out under the forge.

“They have,” Jasmine answered. “Most to Xyrus and Blackbend. The Helstea girl’s team was helpful in that.”

As we reached the elevator and a young adventurer with dull orange hair opened the door, I turned to Senyir. “I know there wasn’t much time to make this happen. Thank you. If everything else goes to plan, I’ll be back in about a week to start the final phase.”

“Of course, General Leywin,” she said forcefully, then gave an equally strong nod that was almost a bow. “Thank you for this opportunity to right the Flamesworth name.”

A sharp breath blew out through Jasmine’s nose as she regarded her sister with an odd expression. “The Flamesworth name does not need to be righted. Only the name Trodius suffers.”

Senyir smiled sadly. “I’m not entirely sure our siblings would agree with you.” Senyir’s hand caressed the back of Jasmine’s hair. “Still, I’m glad we’ve had this time together, Jasmine.”

Jasmine’s intense gaze softened, and she patted her older sister twice on the back before hurrying into the elevator. Nodding to Senyir, I followed, and once we were all in, the elevator began lurching its way up the Wall.

Angela Rose cleared her throat, looking from Jasmine to me. “Are you sure this is the best place, though? It’s been pretty beat up. It’s defensible enough, I guess, but isn’t it a bit…obvious?”

“Exactly,” I said, looking out of the mesh as the buildings grew smaller and smaller beneath us. “This may all amount to nothing, but—”

“Arthur,” Jasmine interrupted, resting one hand on my arm. “We all lived through the war, we’ve seen what our enemy is capable of. Some people on this continent may be smitten enough with our dragon overlords to expect that they’ll save us from any danger, but we know better. Whatever you’re doing, however long it takes, we’ll hold the line.”

I nodded, suppressing the emotions her words conjured in me.

We reached the top with a small jerk and stepped out onto the walkway. A cold wind blew down from the mountains, cutting across the top of the Wall with a noise like a howling mana beast. Sylvie was already up there, gazing out at the Beast Glades, her mind elsewhere. Regis manifested from me, stepping up out of my shadow and hopping up to place his front paws on top of the crenulations flanking both edges.

We all stood in silence for a bit, looking out over the Wall and the Beast Glades beyond. “You all know what to do, then. I need to see to the other locations, and then I’ll be back.”

Jasmine squeezed my arm. Helen, grinning, reached up and tousled my hair.

Suddenly, Angela Rose jumped forward, pulling me into a crushing hug. Memories of my first time meeting her with the Twin Horns surfaced as I looked down at the top of her head pressed against my chest.

When did she get so small?

“You tell your mom we’re going to take good care of you, all right?”

I returned her hug, ignoring the jealous pang seeping into me from Regis. “I will.”

I finished my farewells with Jasmine and Helen as Sylvie rose up into the sky. Regis melted back into my body as I turned away, violet lightning wrapping around me as the aetheric paths lit up in my view. I resisted looking back, not confident I’d be able to give them the genuine look of reassurance that I knew they wanted to see. I took a step up high up into the air, the Wall over a hundred feet below now.

Leaning forward, I began to fly.

***

“I told you it wasn’t much,” Madam Astera said with a shrug as we entered a small cave. “You’re certain this is where you want to…do whatever it is you’re doing?”

Kneeling down, I ran my fingers along a rust-stained patch of the floor, imagining how much blood must have pooled here to leave a mark well over a year later. This was the very spot where Astera had led her troops after their defeat at the Battle of the Bloodfrost. “I’m certain,” I said simply as I looked around. “I need an earth mage or a smith to craft a pedestal right here.” I indicated a spot directly in the center of the cave, marking it with a rock and providing specific dimensions.

“I feel it necessary to point out that you being so close to Etistin does cause some risk for the city, does it not?” Curtis asked with the air of a diplomat.

“Varay will be in the city to help with the defenses,” I assured them, “and you will have your own forces as well as dragons. With the city so heavily defended, and the enemy’s attention divided among several locations, I’m confident you can hold out. At the same time, even if they don’t attack, they won’t be free to turn over every rock and tree with the city at their back.”

Varay stepped forward and gave me a small bow. “Arthur, in that case, I would like to stay here with you. If you are unable to defend yourself, you shouldn’t risk—”

“No,” I said. The softly spoken word smothered Varay’s argument like a pillow. Standing, I met each of their eyes in turn. “My success relies on not being found. Perhaps it will only be hours, and nothing will happen in the meantime. But we need to prepare for the worst. For you all, that means telling no one—not even our allies—about this part of the plan. Defend your city—your people—but don't draw attention to this spot no matter what happens.”

“But what if it seems as if they’re going to find you?” Curtis asked, his confusion apparent.

I met his eyes. “Then distract them.”

Kathyln’s head fell, but only for a second. When she looked back at me, her eyes flashed. “Arthur, you are essentially asking that we spend our soldiers’ lives to draw the enemy’s attention so that you may stay safe, and yet you have not even told us what it is that you are doing. Please, we need to know more. We aren’t your subjects to simply do as we’re told.”

I stepped closer. Kathyln’s icy demeanor reminded me forcefully of how she had acted back in school, at Xyrus. But I knew it was only a shield that she put up to keep herself safe from those around here, and now was no different.

“I’m preparing the final strike of this war.” I let the words settle down over the others like slowly falling ash.

Madam Astera’s jaw stiffened, and she unconsciously shifted her weight to her good leg.

Curtis again glanced at his sister, but Kathyln’s eyes were on me, her face a hard mask.

An involuntary tremble ran through Varay, the rare crack in her cold facade. “Then we will ensure you have the time you need.”

Once I had clarified everything I needed to be done and set the deadline for only a few days later, I left, flying toward Etistin’s teleportation gates while leaving the others to return under their own power. Sylvie flew quietly at my side.

‘It’s not like you to put people in danger and not even tell them the truth about it,’ she said at length, an edge of concern lacing her thoughts. ‘What if we return from the keystone and find Kathyln, or Jasmine, or even Ellie dead, because we didn’t tell them enough?’

My mind was blank for a long moment, capable of forming no coherent thought. Ellie and Mom will be as safe as I can make them, I answered at length, not bothering to justify my actions.

‘The rest, though?’ Regis chimed in, his frustration clear even as he tried to keep up some barrier between us. ‘Caera? After everything we’ve been through together?’

I sighed, the wind whipping my breath away. If Agrona is able to target and use Alacryans against them, or turn any of them into a bomb as he did the Wraiths—

‘But you don’t know he can,’ Regis shot back. ‘Just because that godrune makes you think fast doesn’t mean you’ll always think right. I know success is important, but what’s the point if you lose everyone along the way because of it.’ He hesitated, searching inward for a moment, then continued, ‘Wow…that did not sound like me. I’m getting soft because of you.’

‘He’s not wrong,’ Sylvie thought, looking over at me from the left. The wind whipped her hair behind her like a flag. ‘I think the godrune brings forward the Grey in you, Arthur.’

I gritted my teeth and pushed on faster. Maybe that’s what we need right now.

***

It was almost time. The two weeks were up, and very nearly everything was prepared.

Deep, deep beneath the desert, far even beneath the crumbling remains of the djinn sanctuary, Ellie, Sylvie, Regis, Wren, and I stood in the portal room, which had changed drastically since we’d been there last.

“Will this be enough?” Regis asked, loping around and inspecting the chamber.

Wren, who was drifting along in a floating marble throne, shrugged noncommittally. “I’d be willing to match my ingenuity against the strength of any lesser in this world, but I can’t speak for the Legacy. If the boy’s idea works, this will work. If it doesn’t…” He shrugged again.

I approached a raised stone pedestal in the very center of the chamber, above where I knew the Relictombs portal now rested. “Here, El. This one’s going to be a little different from the others.”

Ellie turned away from a notched piece of wall that she’d been examining, concern etched into her features. “What? Why?”

I tapped the pedestal, and she hurried toward me. “Since this is where I’m actually going to be, this one needs to be more powerful to wash out my actual presence. But your mana still has to hold it. If it breaks down or gives out over time…” I trailed off meaningfully.

“It won’t,” she said decisively. “It’s like…a splinter, stuck in my head. At least after they’re set up. A little annoying, but they won’t be an impediment, and I won’t let them break down or fail or whatever. I can do this, Arthur.”

I gave her a warm smile. “I know you can.”

Taking Sylvie’s hand, Ellie began pouring silvery mana into the curved recess at the top of the pedestal. It formed into a sort of egg-shape, hollow in the middle with thick walls. Sylvie laced her own into it as well, letting her signature radiate out from the molded mana.

“Better reinforce it even more,” I said, then watched as Ellie responded to the command, molding the container’s shape as she input more mana.

When it had wrapped around to nearly come to a close at the top, I imbued the central reservoir with aether, just as we had done in the mind zone to navigate from platform to platform. Compacting the aether inside the container, I forced as much as I could without threatening the integrity of the conjuration. When I eased off, Regis breathed his own aether into the egg, just to be safe, and then Ellie took back over, filling in the small space at the top and closing off the aether from the outside world.

Breathing heavily, she took a step back and wobbled. Sylvie took her by the elbow, and Ellie gave her an appreciative smile. “I’m okay. That was just a lot of mana. At least it’s the last one. How many is that, seven?”

“Yeah,” I answered, rubbing the back of my neck as I regarded my brave little sister. “Thank you, El. I know this all hasn’t been easy. This whole thing hinges on you—your magic. You know that, right? The fate of Dicathen is hanging by these threads of mana.”

“No pressure,” Regis said, lolling his tongue.

Ellie approached me, leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around me, her cheek pressed against my sternum. “You’re really going to just…sit down here and meditate or whatever? For days? Weeks?”

“It could even be months,” Regis said helpfully, and Sylvie nudged him with her knee.

I wrapped my arms around Ellie and pulled her close. “Hopefully it’ll be done in a day and all of this preparation will have been for nothing.” I couldn’t quite put that hope into my tone, though. Not a day ago, word had come from Alaric in Alacrya, stating that there was a lot of strange movement amongst Agrona’s forces, only reinforcing my decision to take such involved steps to prepare.

I released her, and Ellie took a step back, staring deep into my eyes, her expression inscrutable. “Why does this feel so much like goodbye?” she asked.

Caught off guard, I stumbled for a response. It was Sylvie who, squeezing my sister from the side and smiling comfortingly, said, “That’s just the nerves talking. We’ll be back before you know it, I have no doubt. You have to believe me—I can see the future, remember?”

Ellie giggled and nuzzled into Sylvie’s shoulder.

“All right, all right, I have earth-shatteringly important things to do back in Vildorial,” Wren said gruffly. “Come on, girl, it’s time to get moving.”

I caught his eye and gave him a thankful nod, but he only scoffed in response.

Ellie walked backwards as she made to follow Wren, who was already marching away. She waved, then turned and ran to catch up. In moments, they were out of the small chamber and ascending back through the tunnels. I waited, trailing them with my senses until they were well away, then turned to my companions.

“Come on,” I said, gesturing to Regis and Sylvie.

The journey to the refuge I’d prepared did not take long.

Inside, I kicked off my turnshoes and stepped down into the pool of glowing liquid. Withdrawing the keystone, I eased into a sitting position so that the liquid came up to my stomach.

I stared down at the keystone’s unremarkable form.

Sylvie waded into the pool beside me. Her clothes feathered across her body, shifting to become a tight-fitting black-scaled fabric that covered her entire body from the neck down. She sat facing me. “We’re with you, Arthur.”

‘Whether we like it or not,’ Regis jibed from his place near my core.

Everything that could be done already had been. Dicathen’s protectors stood ready to meet any challenge that might come from Agrona. All that remained for me…was to enter the keystone.

Aether flowed from my core and imbued the keystone, and my mind followed as it had so many times before with the other keystones.

A gentle application of Aroa’s Requiem allowed me to approach the aetheric barrier, while Realmheart’s vision guided me through the invisible pathways to the interior. For the first time, I faced the barrage of lightning-bolt-like memories with King’s Gambit, which I activated immediately.

My thoughts, instead of being overwhelmed by the storm, easily absorbed, processed, and arranged the mental feedback and noise. As the static information was fitted into place—like puzzle pieces sliding together, or a key into a lock—the internal aetheric zone of the keystone melted away into utter darkness.

No, not absolute black. Because, in the distance, there was a glimmer of light. It was growing large as it approached—or as I approached it.

As if I were looking through a foggy window, everything around me turned into a bright blur, forcing me to shut my eyes. Indiscernible sounds assaulted my ears, making me dizzy. When I tried to speak, the words came out as a cry. The cacophony of indistinguishable sounds slowly mellowed, and I heard a muffled voice.

“Congratulations, sir and madam, he’s a healthy boy.”