End

Chapter 17 Lindon sensed no Eyes of the Deep in Harmony's possession, and his Goldsign was even more dense than before. It seemed like a hole hovering behind his head. "He's only a step away from breaking through to Underlord," Orthos rumbled. "He'll have a weapon in his soulspace, and he'll have soulfire in his body, but he won't be able to infuse it into his techniques yet." "Then we have nothing to fear," Lindon said. He should have been terrified, but the Blackflame running through his channels was stronger than ever, and he felt nothing more than eager. Harmony raised two fingers, and Lindon activated the Burning Cloak. He had seen this technique before. Fingers fell, deceptively slowly, and a blade of shadow flickered between Harmony and Lindon. The blade sliced a shallow gash in stone, but a sidestep powered by the explosive Burning Cloak put Lindon five steps to the side. It would be hard to avoid if you didn't know how it worked, or if your body wasn't fast enough to keep up. But shrouded in the burning black-and-red of his Enforcer technique, he was ready for anything. Harmony's eyes flashed, and his fingers moved in a complex pattern. Half a second later, shadow-blades flashed at Lindon from every angle. His eyes widened, but he didn't have enough time for panic. He kicked forward, slid on his knees and bent backward to avoid a horizontal slash, rolled to avoid one coming from above, and raised his Remnant arm to seize the technique coming from his right. The blade was thin as a string and not solid—it was a Striker technique, not Forged. The hunger madra crushed it easily. Orthos slammed into Lindon's side, knocking him away, as a blade came from behind that he hadn't noticed. Orthos disappeared, his own Burning Cloak taking him away from the technique.

Harmony hadn't moved, looking at his own fingers curiously. "It's truly incredible," he said. "I can see as Monarchs do." Lindon gathered dragon's breath into his left hand, but he didn't release the technique. "We have no grudge against the Akura clan. I serve on a Skysworn squad with Akura Mercy. Let's leave together." At the sound of Mercy's name, Harmony's expression twitched. Lindon couldn't read his expression, but the young man's spirit grew darker. "Shouldn't have said that," Orthos muttered. Harmony pulled his hand up, and Forged black blades erupted beneath Lindon and Orthos. They split, dodging the technique. And without discussion, they both rushed for Harmony. They came at him from either side, and Harmony glanced from one to the other. He spoke as they ran at him, shaking out his sleeves. "Come, let me show you." Lindon struck with his Remnant arm as Orthos bit down on Harmony's left hand. In an instant, the purple flooded out of Harmony's irises, filling the whole eye. It looked as though he had smooth gemstones in both eyes. Gauntlets of purple crystal covered his hands, and he seized Lindon's arm in one and the back of Orthos' neck in the other. Their charge stopped as though they'd been locked in stone. Orthos struck with his front leg, Burning Cloak flaring, and Lindon slammed his half-formed ball of dragon's breath at Harmony's chest with his left hand. Harmony spun in place, releasing them and avoiding their attacks. In the same motion, he struck each of them with the backs of his fists. Orthos took it on the shell, skidding back a few paces. Lindon flew across the room. His ribs throbbed with pain. A month ago, the strike would have caved in his chest. But his Truegold Enforcer technique and weeks of eating sacred beast meat made him tougher than that. Lindon hit the floor on his feet, but Orthos had already engaged Harmony one more time. He cycled Blackflame to his feet, ready to dash back in. Until he looked up. The jeweled tree shone down on him, the Eyes of the Deep soothing his spirit with their placid, thoughtful presence. Dross was up there,

somewhere. He'd been too late. Blackflame turned that failure to anger, and once again he prepared himself to return to battle... Until he caught a glimpse of purple among the tree's cages. He looked closer to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Dross wasn't as bright or violet as he'd been before, as though blue madra had seeped into him, but he was still a different color to all the other Eyes of the Deep. Maybe he could still be saved. "Hold on, Orthos," Lindon shouted, and with the assistance of the Burning Cloak, he leaped into the iron branches of the tree. Orthos gave him a wordless shout of frustration. Harmony had kicked him into the ceiling, and was now launching a series of shadow-blades at him. Only a few weeks ago, Orthos would have died there. His mind, body, and spirit had been rejuvenated by his time in Ghostwater. This place had remade him just as much as it had Lindon. He twisted in the air, agile as a snake, not only avoiding the blades but flashing out with dragon's breath that scorched a line along the floor, forcing Harmony to raise a sword and to leap back. But Lindon could still feel the turtle's frustration. He wouldn't win on his own, so Lindon would have to be quick. He flipped open the cage, which was surprisingly easy. He had thought he might have to burn it open, but it didn't even seem to lock. Then he reached in with his left hand, pulling on Dross' vessel. It was locked in place. Lines of light ran from the rest of the cage to the gem as madra sealed it inside. Dross mumbled something from the jewel, like a man mumbling in his sleep. Lindon reached out his Remnant arm, hesitating before he touched the lines. He didn't know what severing this connection would do to Dross; as far as he knew, it might be the only thing sustaining the construct's life. But Orthos cried out behind him, and he hooked a white finger around the line of madra. He didn't have time to examine this carefully. With his finger, he cut the line connecting Dross to the other Eyes of the Deep. Dross gasped, and Lindon quickly sliced through the other connections and pulled out the gem. Dross mumbled sleepily for another minute. "...I dreamed I was a thousand birds," he said at last.

Lindon let out a breath of relief, turning back to the battle. "Dross, we need to leave. Can you activate the portal?" The light in the gem shivered, as though Dross were shaking himself. "I can if we can get to it. Will Harmony let us, do you think?" A wave of swords stabbed up from the floor, seeking Orthos, as the turtle flipped and spat fire over them. "I don't think so." "Well, that should be fine. I have another idea." A purple spark flared over the stone basin at the base of the tree, and Lindon followed Dross' direction, hopping down in front of it. "I know so much now," the construct said in wonder. "More than I ever thought possible." "What do I do here, Dross?" Lindon asked. Blackflame blazed behind him. The spirit flowed out of his vessel. Dross was slightly transparent again, as though he'd lost some substance, but he still looked the same as he had after the Life Well: a round body with one eye and a mouth. He extended two tendrils like arms, pressing them to the script around the stone basin. The script flashed purple, and after a moment, a clear tube extended from the tree. A white pearl rolled down the tube. "This is what Harmony drank," Dross said. "Ghostwater." "Did it really give him the vision of a Monarch?" Lindon asked, watching the pearl greedily. "Ha! No. He's a Truegold; the true sight of a Monarch would pull his mind apart like clay." The drop settled into the basin, and Lindon leaned for it. "Wait! You kept samples of each Well, didn't you?" "Only one vial from the Life Well." "That should be good enough. Probably. Open your void key." Lindon did, and the closet door appeared out of nowhere, Little Blue squeaking happily. And Harmony's spirit locked onto Lindon. Lindon ignited the Burning Cloak again, turning to face the Akura. He kicked Orthos away to glare at Lindon. "You can handle this, Dross," Lindon said, waving to the basin. Then he kicked off, launching himself at Harmony.

"Yes, of course I can," Dross said behind him. "Of course. Handling it, that's what I'm doing." Swords shoved up from the ground, almost as tall as Lindon was, but he tore them apart with his right hand. While they tangled him up, a shadowblade flashed at him at neck height. Orthos plowed into Harmony from behind. The Akura turned, catching his shell with one gauntlet, but Orthos spun and whipped his tail into the shadow artist's chest. Harmony flew back, gauntlets dissipating to essence and violet crystal boots appearing on his feet. They bit into the stone, stopping him instantly, as he fired another Striker blade at Orthos. So he wasn't watching when Lindon broke through the techniques and landed in front of him, Burning Cloak blazing around him. He punched Harmony with his right hand, but white fist met purple as Harmony got his gauntlet up. Lindon was pushed back by the force of the attack, but Harmony was only feet from the stone wall. He crashed back into it, his black halo eating into the stone even as his gauntlets cracked the rock. Orthos landed at the same time as Lindon steadied himself, and once again they acted as one. Lindon brought his hands together in front of him, gathering a ball of black-and-red fire between his palms. Orthos cracked his jaws, dragon's breath forming in his mouth. Two burning bars of Blackflame met on Akura Harmony's body. ~~~ Dross struggled, panting like he had lungs, to pull a single vial of Life Water out of the void key's open storage. "You're not going to help, are you?" he asked Little Blue. The Sylvan cocked her head at him and whistled. Before his union with the other Eyes of the Deep, that would have been incomprehensible to him. It was still mostly incomprehensible to him, but there was clearly a pattern in the Sylvan Riverseed's communication. He had started to see it, so he could make out what she was saying. Mostly. "It's not about carrying heavy things, it's about your attitude. Do you hear what I'm saying? Willingness to help, that's all I'm looking for. Moral support."

Little Blue raised her arms in the air and gave a cheer that sounded like wind chimes. "See, that's all I'm asking." With superhuman effort, Dross stretched the vial in his arms over the basin. Shining green liquid splashed around the ghostwater pearl, with the white swirling inside the green. They hadn't mixed. And they wouldn't. Not yet. "The truth is," Dross said to Little Blue, "all the hard work happens in the Wells. This tree just gathers it and uses it to fuel our thoughts." He paused as he grabbed a vial of Spirit Well water, his mind drifting back to what it was like to be part of the collective. It had been...expansive. He was far more now than he had ever been before, but when he was connected to the tree, he was a drop of water in the ocean. There was something empowering about being an ocean. Little Blue squeaked, and violent power flared nearby. Right, the fight. Time limit, and all that. Dross heaved the second vial into the air. Each time he lifted one of these, he strained his physical substance. It didn't eat into his memory anymore; now he had an outer membrane that took on all physical strain. But sooner or later, that membrane would be exhausted. Sooner rather than later, if he was reading his own body's condition correctly. The blue water swirled in with the green and white, creating a pleasing whirlpool. The aura above the basin twisted like a storm as the powers clashed, and Dross lurched closer to the void storage again. "Just...one...more..." He was having trouble dragging his body through the air. He moved his stubby arms in front of his eye, and he could see straight through them. That wasn't ideal. He drifted closer to the ground, and Little Blue hopped down from her perch. Her dress-like lower body twirled around his eye, and she looked down on him. Dross tried to speak, but he was having enough trouble holding himself together without losing any of his real essence. The Sylvan Riverseed dipped down, looking him straight in the eye, and her expression firmed. With the solid ringing of a bell, she walked over to one of the few remaining vials from the Mind Well.

With both hands, she pushed it out. It was almost half her body's height, and surely twice her weight, but she tucked it under one arm and dashed for the basin. Dross looked up at the stone device, which loomed over him like a tower. "Why...didn't you...do that before?" By the time he reached the top, Little Blue had already upended the purple water. All four colors now whirled in the basin, the air around them crackling with power. She was as wary as he was; that power could tear them apart, or change them fundamentally. Of course, that was almost the idea. Dross stretched one of his arms beneath the basin, activating a hidden circle with a bare spark of madra. "Northstrider left some of his very own soulfire stored at the base. It's the last ingredient." Pure silver fire, like a mirror stretched into the shape of flames, flared up from the center of the basin. It spread to the water like a natural fire spreading through a puddle of oil, but it consumed nothing. Rather, the water grew brighter. And it started to blend. The swirl of white at the center extended out, staining the rest of the liquid, as the silver fire grew smaller and smaller. Sparks of blue and green and purple essence drifted upwards; soulfire burned away impurities, refined the physical vessel, and empowered madra. Yet another thing he'd learned from the collective. The silver fire was exhausted as it sunk into every droplet of the water. It was solid white now, but it glimmered with a metallic sheen. Dross gathered himself, looking for Lindon. One more step, and he needed a physical body for this part. Then the grand work would be complete. ~~~ The dragon's breath met in a furious conflagration over Harmony's body, an inferno of black and red. The ball of fire devoured the nearby stone, so that it looked like they'd scooped out chunks of the wall and floor with a massive shovel. The rock glowed cherry red, but thanks to the destruction aspect of Blackflame, it left no molten stone behind. Lindon and Orthos released their techniques together. "Do we have a way out?" Orthos asked.

"Dross is working on it." "He should work faster." Harmony stepped out of the fading black-and-red madra, clad from head to toe in armor of violet crystal. The black disc hovered behind his helmet, and light shone where his eyes should be. He extended one armored hand, and a metal axe shimmered as it appeared from his soulspace. It had a shaft as long as he was that looked as though it was made of one long bone, and its broad, curved head glistened with a red light. When he gripped the weapon in both hands, Lindon felt Dross behind him. He clapped Orthos on the shell. "Hold him back. I'll open the portal." "Hold him back?" Orthos repeated, but the axe was already descending on him. Snarling, he leaped away. Dross panted as he arrived, even fainter than before. Lindon could see the wheels turning inside him, his madra channels looping around his core. "Let...me...in..." Lindon didn't ask questions. He seized the spirit, drawing him into his core without hesitation, dashing toward the portal. "How do I start this?" he asked, as the chamber quaked with Orthos' and Harmony's battle. "Wrong way, wrong way!" Dross shouted inside his head. "Turn, turn, turn!" Confused, Lindon turned so that he was facing the jeweled tree. Orthos leaped away from a crater of cracked stone, and Harmony was a violet blur as he pursued. "Back to the basin!" Despite his frustration, Lindon obeyed. "What are we doing?" "That is called ghostwater!" Lindon saw the shimmering diamond-colored liquid and understood. This was the fourth well. "Will this help us beat Harmony?" "Eh, well...it will help you fight Harmony, I can guarantee that much." Lindon stopped in front of the basin. Little Blue saw him and cheered like jangling coins, hopping back inside the void storage. Tapping his void key to close the door, Lindon looked down at the shimmering milk.

"Northstrider's grand work failed because this collective mind he created had no initiative or creativity, you see. It did only what it was told. Not to brag, but as it turns out, all they had to do was let a memory construct soak in the Mind Well for fifty years." Lindon ducked his entire head into the white water. "You could take this yourself, if you wanted," Dross continued. "Your mind would be enhanced far beyond Harmony's. But if you give it to me, we'll have finished Northstrider's project." As the water rushed through his body, it started to gather at the base of his skull. Lindon seized it. As tempting as it would be to see what the ultimate product of Ghostwater could do for his advancement, Orthos could only last so long. A Monarch artifact would go a long way here. He guzzled down the ghostwater, cycling it all to Dross. Orthos crashed into the ground next to him, Burning Cloak dying. He struggled to rise to his feet, but failed. There were new cracks in his skull, smaller but leaking light. "I'm at my end," he said, voice low. Lindon couldn't turn enough to see Harmony, but he could feel the Akura behind him, like the shadow of death. Edged darkness gathered, approaching him as the scythe approached the wheat. Dross was spinning in his core. The ghostwater started to draw him up, through Lindon's channels, until the spirit rested where his neck met his head. Lindon finished the last of the ghostwater, taking a deep breath. "What do I do?" he demanded. There was a brief, sharp pain in his spirit, like a pinprick on his neck that cut straight to the soul. And then Dross was part of him, seared into his madra channels like he'd been nailed there. Dross' voice echoed in Lindon's mind and soul. [One battle plan, coming up.] Information requested: combat solution against Akura Harmony. Beginning report…

Now, you're going to want to get right on this, because there's a Striker technique about six inches from your spine that will split you like a fish. One thin edge of shadow, a line stretching from floor to ceiling, approaches Lindon's back. As it streaks away from Harmony, it cuts a line in the floor. That armor of his is the bloodline legacy of the Akura family. That's an advantage for us. He didn't make it with his Path, so he doesn't have full control of it. He's not supposed to use the full armor until Underlord, anyway, so his movements will be wide. The violet crystal armor encasing Harmony feeds on his madra. Lindon can feel it in his spiritual perception; it's draining Harmony's spirit and most of his attention. His core is on the edge of empty, and he has to Enforce himself to even move. That axe is an Underlord weapon too. He can't bring out its power. Silly, isn't it? He thought of it as an emergency measure, but he would have been better off taking a weapon he could handle. It will still take your head off, though. The binding isn't active. Now, with all this information flowing through him in one surge of images and emotions, Lindon can feel it. He's shocked he didn't notice it before. The weapon itself is still powerful, but Harmony can't activate the binding. First, get rid of the Striker technique. Shouldn't be too hard for you. Lindon turns, the technique in his white arm activating, and he sweeps the shadow-blade aside. His hand devours the madra, staining slightly dark. Distract him. Throw sand at him or something. The stolen madra vents into Harmony's face, confusing his eyes and his perception at once. Unshaped, the madra forms a handful of black needles. The shadow and sword aspects fight one another, so they're not deadly, but they are a distraction. Right, now block his blind strike. The red-edged axe swings at him, and Lindon reaches for the haft. He's not fast enough. The axe cleaves through hand, arm, shoulder, blood spraying into the air. The pain fades quickly as the cold haze of death closes in. Er, sorry, I mean dodge it.

Lindon ducks, and the swipe of the axe passes over his head. He is unharmed, and Malice is off-balance. Disrupt his footing. He reaches for Harmony's armored ankle, heaving with a Burning Cloak-empowered pull. It's too soon for Harmony to steady himself, and he's hauled from his feet. Take that weapon away. Harmony's spirit surges as his attention shifts from the fight to keeping his armor from fading. His grip weakens. Lindon's hand of flesh closes around the haft of the axe, and he wrenches it away. When he hits the ground, he'll strike out, so be prepared for that. His back slams into the stone, and Harmony draws two diagonal lines in front of his chest. An X-shaped cross of shadow blades slashes upward at the place he last felt Lindon. But Lindon has already moved. The Burning Cloak carries him beyond so he stands over Harmony's head. You can't crack the armor, but you can make it too expensive to keep on. With both hands, Lindon lifts the axe over his head and plunges it down on the crystal breastplate. It strikes sparks without penetrating, but the burden of madra is too much for a Truegold. The armor bursts into essence, purple light retreating back into Harmony's irises. Watch out for your allies. Arm-thick dragon's breath roars from Orthos, and Lindon sidesteps. The madra consumes Harmony's body. And that's one dead enemy. It's simple. It's clean. And there's only minimal chance for failure and a horrific death. Now, go out and do it.

Report complete. Reality returned as though Lindon had moved five seconds back in time. He spun, slashing the Striker technique apart with his hand, absorbing its madra and immediately venting it into Harmony's face. He ignited the Burning Cloak, ducking the blind slash of the axe and wrenching Harmony from his feet. He snatched the axe and dashed from Harmony's feet to his head in one movement. The cross of shadow-blades passed through the space where he had been standing. Lindon plunged the axe down on the chest of Harmony's armor, which burst instantly. Now he only had to stand aside and wait for Orthos' breath to obliterate the Akura's body. Instead, he kicked Harmony to the side. Blackflame carved a trough in the stone, but Harmony tumbled to one side, his Goldsign slicing the stone. Orthos tracked Harmony's movement, turning the dragon's breath to the side, moving the stream closer. Lindon stood in front of him, raising a hand. Orthos slammed his jaws shut, madra spilling from the sides of his mouth. Finally, Lindon relaxed. That had been a risk. He could deflect a certain amount of Blackflame madra, but it wasn't as though he would walk away unharmed. "Kill him!" Orthos demanded. "What are you thinking?" Lindon's Burning Cloak faded away, and Lindon tapped his pure core. His madra channels were sore and aching after the fight, and he'd used up quite a bit of his madra. He looked down into Harmony's eyes, and he saw there only anger, humiliation, and exhaustion. "We're leaving," Lindon said at last. "As a gesture of goodwill to the Akura family, I would be happy to take you with us." Without waiting for a reply, he walked over to the jade arch of the portal. Orthos followed him, speaking as low as he could. "If we bring him back, he will bring word to his family. The Akura family has more Underlords than you can imagine, and they do not suffer disgrace lightly."

"Will they see this as shame?" Lindon asked curiously. "I would think they would see it as mercy. He held out his left hand, conjuring Dross. The spirit rushed out of him, spinning into existence as a hovering purple head with one giant eye. Their connection did not weaken at all with distance. Dross drifted over to the scripted panel next to the portal. [Hm, yes, this will be tricky. It will require all of my skill and enhanced knowledge.] "Will it take long?" Lindon asked. The script lit up, and suddenly a portal rippled swirling blue and green in the center of the arch. [Honestly, that was much easier than I thought it would be.] Fractures spread immediately from the portal, crawling away from the frame at visible speed. Clearly, the world wouldn't last much longer. Scuffling from behind told Lindon that Harmony was climbing to his feet. Dross' mere existence helped him sort through sensory information much more clearly. It didn't expand Lindon's senses, like the powers of an Arelius might, but it helped him organize everything neatly with only a moment of focus. Yerin would be jealous. "The pride of the Akura does not bend," Harmony said, his voice heated. "The next time we meet, I will be a Lord. And I will raze your home and burn your family, root and branch, until your name is used as a curse." Lindon turned to see Harmony reaching into space, pulling out a lump of chalk that glittered blue. The Soul Cloak, which Lindon had already prepared, flared around him so that he shone in a cloud of smooth blue-and-white light. Harmony's core was all but empty, and Lindon sensed nothing Enforcing his limbs. The Burning Cloak lent itself to sudden, violent bursts of movement, but that also meant it was difficult to control. The Soul Cloak, on the other hand, helped his body move almost before he thought of it. No sooner had he activated the technique than he stood before Harmony, clasping his wrist in one pale hand. "That seems a little extreme," Lindon said, plucking the gatestone from his hand. He hurled it against the wall, where it burst into blue light and another mess of spatial cracks. The room was crawling with hairline fractures now, and they were getting faster and faster.

Harmony lunged for him, swirling the last of his madra to Enforce himself. Lindon slammed an Empty Palm into his core. As the Akura dropped, Lindon walked back to the portal. "He has refused our offer of a way home, so we'll leave him to make his own way back." Dross drifted back into Lindon's body, and his madra didn't block the spirit any longer. Orthos glanced back, but walked through the portal. They didn't know where the doorway would take them, but at least it would be somewhere on the outside. Lindon followed. For one blink, they were buffeted on all sides by textured blue light. Then the air tore around them again, and they were standing inside a shallow cave. Moss and bright mushrooms filled the space like grass, and the jade arch was set against the wall. Sunlight spilled through the mouth of the cave, and he could see it shining on an endless field of waves. Lindon heaved a deep breath of salty air, feeling as though he had crawled out of a hole for the first time in weeks. The portal, which was transparent from this side, showed a steadily cracking image of Harmony scrambling over the pocked and pitted floor left behind after their battle. He crawled for the portal as Ghostwater collapsed around him. Lindon watched, locked in a debate. On the one hand, Harmony had made it clear that he wouldn't cooperate. On the other hand— Orthos blew a finger-thin stream of dragon's breath through the arch, and the portal disappeared. Lindon stared at the spot where the portal had been for a long moment. "He asked for that," Orthos said. "…I can't argue with that." Lindon turned back to the ocean. "Now, Dross: where are we?" [Oh, I don't, ah, I don't know. Is that the sun?]

Chapter 18 The green-armored guards lifted their spears and stepped to the side, allowing Eithan to approach the tall doors to the Emperor's audience hall. He was expected. Fisher Gesha fussed with her hair, bowing to both of the Truegold guards as she walked in Eithan's wake. She had left her drudge behind today, so the top of her head was barely above Eithan's waist. "This will not go as you expect," she muttered. "Did you ask me what I wanted? Hm? No. You just drag me along, like luggage. He will not see me. Do you think Highgolds go before the Emperor every day?" "Don't worry," Eithan said, marching forward. "He's not as intimidating as you think." Wind aura swung the door open before he touched them. The doors opened onto a long hallway, decorated with enough opulence to shame the halls of heaven. Everything was sheathed in gold: the dragon statues hanging from the ceiling, the pillars lining the hall, even the floor tiles. At the end of the hall, the Emperor sat on his throne of gold and jade. Naru Huan, Emperor of the Blackflame Empire, was the picture of a hero: he was powerfully built, with piercing eyes and a short beard that emphasized his square chin. His hair was pinned back by an ornate crown, and his wings spread to either side, flanking him in shining emerald feathers. His Overlord spirit spilled freely through the halls, pushing down on them with the weight of true power. A shirtless man on one side of the door rang a massive gong as they entered. The air trembled as the deafening tone broke the silence. A crier stepped forward before the throne. "You enter the presence of Emperor Naru the Second, Overlord and Patriarch of the Naru clan, Guardian of the West and Protector of the East, master of this land. Prostrate yourself before him, and show him your gratitude."

Fisher Gesha threw herself to the ground, and even Eithan lowered himself to his knees. Though he wanted to roll his eyes at the useless ceremony. The Emperor raised one finger. "Stand!" the crier ordered, and Gesha scrambled to her feet. Eithan followed, brushing off his knees; there was a thin layer of dust on the ground. He would have to speak to the cleaning crew. "Gesha, Highgold of the Desolate Wilds, approach the throne." Trembling, each step a burden, Fisher Gesha pushed forward. She dared not raise her head enough to look directly at the Emperor, and she was clearly torn between obeying quickly and walking with a stately, respectful pace. Eithan yawned. When she was within a few paces of the bottom step, the crier held out a hand. "Stop! To your knees, and prepare to receive the word of the Emperor. Let all ears and hearts attend to his wisdom." She fell back to the ground, and Naru Huan looked on her. "You have pleased us, Fisher Gesha," he announced. "You have served us with distinction, standing even against an enemy Underlord. For this, we will reward you." One of the servants to the side of the throne stepped forward, carrying an ornate wooden chest. He squared his shoulders and cracked the box open for Fisher Gesha's inspection. Gold and purple light spilled out. The box was filled with rows of highgrade force scales, as well as three pills like shimmering balls of gold. "Daughter of the empire, we grant you the path to Truegold," the Emperor said. "Advance your Path and continue to serve us." Fisher Gesha pressed her forehead to the floor. "Forgive this old woman, Your Imperial Majesty," she said, and Eithan's eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn't expected her to speak. "I am too old for such a gift, you see? My family…they have followed me from the Wilds. They have just arrived, but they are young. Please, grant me permission to share these gifts among them instead. They will serve their people longer than I will, hm?" Gesha's family had joined her only recently. Eithan had found them with Gesha, setting up a Soulsmith's shop in the floating city of Stormrock. A smile flickered on Naru Huan's face, but it was quickly gone, replaced by the mask of an emperor. "Though your request is admirable, we

will not grant it." On the floor, Gesha flinched. "These rewards are for you alone. You will serve us better as a Truegold." Two more servants, carrying identical boxes, stepped out. "Your concern for your grandchildren does you credit," the Emperor continued. "We will not forget them." Gesha raised her head, and her wrinkled face was wet with tears. "Heavens grant long life to the Emperor," she said, her voice cracking. "Go in peace," Naru Huan announced. He looked up to Eithan, still standing at the far end of the hall, and his expression hardened. "We must have an audience with our Underlord alone." Gesha bowed her way out, flanked by three servants carrying boxes. As she left, she glanced at Eithan. He winked. When the doors slammed again, signifying that Gesha had left, the whole room relaxed. The Emperor pulled the crown from his head, withdrew his wings, and let out a breath. The crier knuckled the small of his back, stretching. Some of the servants started chattering among themselves. Even the gong attendant slumped down to the floor, leaning his back against the wall. "Last audience for the day," Naru Huan said, and his voice no longer echoed through the hall. He had been holding it with wind aura, probably all day. "At least you brought some good news. Panic and fear threaten to do more damage than the Phoenix did." "The Overlord still got away," Eithan reported, strolling up to the throne. "And we saw no sign of their Sage, for which we should be grateful." Naru Huan folded his wings and hopped down from the throne, handing his crown to a servant. "He is currently on an island in the Trackless Sea, where he is matched by the Sage of the Silver Heart. If he were to leave to save his subordinates, she would follow him." That was interesting news. What was in the Trackless Sea to attract the Akura family and Redmoon Hall both? "Then he's in no position to threaten us now, but he will eventually. He doesn't strike me as the sort to take the loss of half a dozen Underlords lightly." Eithan hadn't learned that number until he'd reached Blackflame City. He, Naru Saeya, and Chon Ma had eliminated two Underlords, but the other

teams had done as well. Six of the Underlord emissaries that had entered the Blackflame Empire had been killed, as well as many more Truegolds. They may have missed an Underlord or two, but considering the Blackflame Empire had suffered no losses, this was something to celebrate. "This is a victory," the Emperor said firmly. "We have won, and the Empire must see that. I allowed Gaien Arelius to revoke your position because he told me that you were not performing your duties as the head of the family, and I wanted to remind you that your service to the Empire is what matters. You have served me well, so I will allow you to return to your former position." Eithan waved a hand. "No, thank you." A bit of the Imperial authority returned to Naru Huan's eyes. "This is the attitude that gets you into trouble. You do not have the standing to refuse." Eithan slipped hands into his pockets and walked alongside the Emperor as he strode away from the audience hall. "Huan, how long have you known me?" "Long enough to know that you do what you want." "Do you suspect that I am not loyal to the Empire?" Naru Huan gave him a sidelong glance. Servants pushed open a door for him, and he led the way through. "I suspect that, in your heart, you acknowledge no authority greater than yourself." That was close to accurate, but Eithan brushed it aside. "If I am allowed to do as I please, it will only benefit the Empire. I consider this place my second homeland. But I must be allowed to act freely. Especially considering what is coming." The Emperor halted, turning in the hallway. Servants around him bowed. "The Akura family might compete, but we won't. We can't." "When the Dreadgods begin to act strangely, the Monarchs look to one another. This upcoming competition will be a battle between Monarchs, and the Akura family will not allow us to stand aside." Naru Huan stared off into the distance, light rippling in his wings. "What can you do?" "I have two, maybe three prospects for young Underlords. Given the opportunity to coach them directly, I believe I might be able to raise two of them in time." "You think they would impress the Akura family?"

"Huan," Eithan said, "I think they could do a little better than that." The Emperor studied him. He spent a moment in deep thought, examining Eithan's expression. "All the more reason to reinstate you as Patriarch." "No. All the more reason to let me join the Skysworn. I don't know if you've heard anything about my training methods, but I like to supervise. Personally." The Emperor folded his arms. "You will operate according to Naru Gwei's orders." "Of course!" "And under no circumstances will you be granted any additional authority over the Skysworn." "I would never dream of it." Naru Huan thought for a moment longer. Then he nodded. ~~~ Using the Soul Cloak and his newly reinforced body, it was no problem for Lindon to climb up the cliff on the side of the island. Or it wouldn't have been, except that he had to drag Orthos behind him. In his flesh-and-blood hand, he grabbed the rocky edge of the island, body and spirit straining. His Remnant fingers were under the lip of Orthos' shell; the turtle had retreated inside when he realized they had to climb up. "Let me go," the turtle commanded, his voice echoing from inside the shell. "Drop me into the water." Lindon heaved, the blue-and-white haze around him flaring for one last burst of strength. His spirit and body were already exhausted from the fight with Harmony, but now he needed a final step. He dragged Orthos up, one-handed, muscles straining and face hot with effort. Black madra oozed out the side of the cliff. He released the cliff immediately, letting himself fall. If there were new enemies up there, it would be better to hit the water. Dark, shadowy tendrils snagged him, stopping his fall, catching him in a quickly woven basket. More strands grabbed Orthos, who snaked his head out of his shell and looked up. "We could have used you a few minutes ago," the turtle rumbled.

Lindon looked up. Mercy stood at the edge of the cliff. Her hair was cut close to the skull, and she was matted and dirty, as though she'd spent the last several weeks living outside. She ground her staff into the sand with both hands, channeling her madra through it, eyes closed and spirit straining. He could feel her Lowgold power, and it struck him how weak she now seemed. With long, deliberate breaths, Mercy controlled her madra. The limbs of shadow lifted them up, spilling them onto the grass at the edge of the cliff. Lindon landed on his feet, Orthos rolled over and over, and even Mercy collapsed to catch her breath. She opened her eyes and gave him a bright smile. "We came to save you!" We. Lindon looked toward the trees, opening his spirit to feel for Yerin's presence. He felt only a flash of power as a black-and-silver blur crashed into him. He stood his ground as Yerin threw her arms around him, squeezing him so tight that his ribs would have cracked a few weeks before. "You're solid," she said, from somewhere around his shoulder. "You made it." Slowly, hesitantly, he put his own arms around her. He had to avoid her Goldsigns, and he pulled his Remnant arm back when he realized it was about to touch her. Instead, he embraced her with his real arm. "Forgiveness. It took me too long." She shook her head, squeezing tighter. If not for the month of eating sacred beast meat, his body would have... Actually, his ribs were starting to crack. "You're not missing any more pieces," Yerin said, still not looking up. Lindon tried to take a breath and couldn't. He tapped on her shoulder, trying to get her attention. "Your cores still..." His spirit shivered as her perception passed through him, and she looked up at him. Her eyes were red, and they widened. "...Highgold? Truegold?" Whatever she saw in his face startled her, and she released him so he could heave a desperate breath.

"That's what...took me...so long..." he panted, trying to give her a confident smile through the sharp pain in his sides. She turned to look over the cliff. "Must have a dragon's worth of treasure in there. I'll be burned and buried before I leave that behind." Lindon grabbed her wrist as she started to walk away. "The portal's closed. And..." He felt the power of the madra running through her arm. "You too?" She grinned back at him, scarred face beaming. "Looks like we're standing on the same ground. About time. I was sick of waiting for you to catch up." He realized he was still holding onto her wrist and started to let go, but she twisted her hand around and grabbed his in turn, so they were clasping each other's arms. Lindon let himself relax. He was here, he was alive, and he was advanced enough to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Yerin. Everything had worked out. Mercy leaned in, eyes sparkling. She threw an arm around each of them. "Let's all be excited! We made it!" "You changed your hair," Lindon said. "I like it." He still didn't know Mercy well; he wasn't sure what else to say. She grimaced. "I don't. Makes me look like a twelve-year-old boy. Hair growth elixirs are pretty cheap, but I need to find a refiner I can trust." Yerin and Lindon released each other's hands. By then, Orthos had walked up, closing the circle. Yerin eyed him up and down, eyebrows raising. "You look all polished up. You get a new shell?" The turtle raised his head, and Lindon felt a flash of smug pride through their bond. "I feel a hundred years younger. Now I can show you what a true dragon is capable of." Yerin shot another glance at the cliff. "You're sure that portal is—" "Definitely closed," Lindon said. They wouldn't want to travel back through it even if it was open. A cloud passed over the sun, but the ocean still glistened, and for a breath of time Lindon just enjoyed that he was still alive. Little Blue crawled out of his pocket and sat on his shoulder, watching the ocean. [That is the sun!] Dross said, popping up onto his other shoulder. Mercy let out a quick scream. Yerin had backed up, her sword halfway out.

Lindon held up a hand. "Forgiveness! Forgiveness, please. I forgot. Everyone, this is Dross. He's a memory construct that I found inside." Yerin's eyes narrowed. "Memory? He's talking in my head." [I'm a special case,] Dross said, focusing his eye on her. Mercy's purple eyes were only an inch from him, and she extended one finger to poke him in the side. She seemed surprised when the finger passed through him. "I like your color," she said. Dross turned to her, then yelped and leaped an inch back. [You, ah, you remind me an awful lot of the young man we just left to die.] Lindon turned away before he had to face any questions. He'd tell Yerin what happened later, but he had to think Mercy would disapprove of him leaving an Akura to dissolve with the breaking world. "I suppose we should see if the Sksyworn cloudship is still there. Where's Bai Rou?" "Left him," Yerin said. "I can tell you sure and certain: it takes longer to walk across this island than you'd think." "We could go find hammer guy," Mercy suggested. That hooked Lindon's attention. "Hammer guy?" Yerin waved a hand. "He won't help. Ran back to his Herald without so much as dropping his name." Orthos pushed forward, looking into the woods. "Lindon is right. We should be heading for a way home. We will see if the ship is still there." Yerin and Mercy did not look forward to the prospect of marching through the woods, but Lindon was strangely excited. Everyone was together, he was Truegold, and he was ready to dive into the woods filled with the unknown. "Just have to hope the dragons are gone," Yerin muttered. "Dragons?" Orthos asked. Lindon remembered a wounded Truegold dragon passing through the blue flash of a gatestone. Had Ekeri survived? "Tell us about the dragons," he said. ~~~ Sophara knelt before the image of her master, cheeks still wet with tears. "They took so much from us," she said, her chest tight with pain. "So much."

The Monarch's body was built from sand. It was a projection of his will; his true body was halfway across the continent, but this sand took his form. He looked like a human boy of twelve or thirteen wearing a mantle that covered him from neck to ankles. Sophara was not worthy to look upon him directly. Instead, she studied his bare human feet. "They took nothing from us," her divine ancestor corrected her. "You gave it all to them." Her throat seized up, but she didn't dare argue with a Monarch. "Your sister cornered a mouse and was nibbled to death. She was a shame to my blood." He spat to one side. "I wasted my words on her." Sophara's claws gouged trenches in the wooden floorboards. "You set Derianatoth and Nagatonatoth to hunt, and they too were killed by their prey. If their Remnants had not been destroyed already, you should have done it yourself. They do not deserve to be used in death. They were useless in life." She could hold her words no longer. "Divine king, whose wisdom spans the ages, please...please have mercy on me. They were my family." A finger of hard-packed sand slipped under her chin, tilting her face up. She squeezed her eyes shut so she didn't accidentally see his face. "Look upon me," he commanded. His face was round and smooth, with no hint of its true nature. Unlimited power, hidden in a frail package. Perfect beauty, as Sophara had always thought. "Truth does not care for your feelings," he said. The sand-sculpture was so fine, she could see every nuance of his icy expression. "The truth is, they were stronger. You were weak. And thanks to your weakness, this trip to Northstrider's laboratory has gained us nothing and cost us much." Fresh tears oozed from her eyes. "I will accept my punishment with a glad heart." "What do I gain from your punishment? We face the facts. Aside from the Tidewalker sect and the Ninecloud Court delegation, we achieved the least of everyone in Ghostwater. And the Court cares nothing for any of this. Redmoon Hall retrieved what they came for, and the Akura family went to great lengths to hide their child's fate from me. He must have succeeded."

He gripped her chin with his whole hand, and she knew that even with the strength of this projection, he could tear her jaw from her head without effort. "I looked weak. The difference between perceived strength and actual strength is smaller than you would believe." He released her, folding his hands behind his back. "Hear me, Sopharanatoth. You have begun a hunt. There can be only one outcome: success, overwhelming success. You must bring me glory that overshadows my shame." "Tell me how," she begged. "Tell me and I will." "Soon, there will be another competition," he said. "On a much grander stage. This year, it means more than it ever has before. Even their tiny, insignificant Empire will be forced to compete. You will face their champions, and you will kill them with the world watching. "Only then will I smile on you." ~~~ In a distant corner of the world, a dragon's corpse lay stretched across an icy mountain range, its blood flowing in swiftly freezing rivers. Blood aura boiled up, covering the horizon like a cloud bank, rising from miles of sapphire scales. The sacred beast had died only minutes before. Its Remnant —the size of a city—was already dispersing back into aura. On that corpse sat Northstrider, Monarch on the Path of the Hungry Deep. He sat cross-legged, in a cycling position, as the blood aura rose around him. With a breath, he cycled it into his core. The vitality of dragons seeped into him, strengthening his body and his spirit. A spark within his soul carried the image of a dragon, majestic and roaring; it fed upon the imprint of the dragon's life that remained in this aura. Every part of him was nourished by this creature's power. And now there was one fewer dragon in the world. This moment of cycling after the kill was the closest to content that he ever came. That satisfaction was suddenly interrupted by an irritation in his spirit. He opened his perception, stretching it across the planet to the source of that irritation.

It was the anchor he'd planted to keep Ghostwater tied to this world. It had failed. Ghostwater was seconds from destruction. He spent a moment weighing whether recovering the information remaining in his pocket world was worth breaking away from his cycling, but that only irritated him further. If the Ghostwater project had succeeded in the way he'd wanted, he wouldn't have had to think about the question at all. A Presence would have told him the answer. Mood broken, Northstrider rose to his feet. He might as well go salvage what he could. With a brief effort, he stepped out of space. The irresistible blue currents surrounded him, buffeting him and trying to push him back to the world, but this was a battle of wills he'd fought many times. He kept his focus locked on his destination, and in seconds he reached it. There was no change in his surroundings, just the sensation of being carried in overpowering currents and then a certainty that he had arrived. Relaxing his will, he allowed himself to be carried back into Cradle. Or, as he preferred to think of it: into the miniature world he'd tacked onto Cradle like a spare room onto a house. The prime chamber of the Ghostwater facility was much as he'd left it decades before. It was a cave he'd hollowed out with one scoop of his hand, with an exit on one wall, his oracle tree on the other, and not much else of note. It had splintered like glass on the edge of shattering. Some of the cracks in space were so wide that he could see the void through them; endless black like the depths of space, speckled with lights like spinning, colored stars. Reaching out, Northstrider extended his will to every corner of the pocket world. "Hold," he commanded. The spatial cracks froze. Compelled by his presence, space slowly stabilized, knitting back together. Reality reasserted itself, and Northstrider paced across the stone floor. As he walked, part of him noted the boy on the ground. It was a Gold, a battered young man with an empty core on a Path that felt like shadow and

swords. Bits of violet crystal armor clung to him, as though he expected armor to protect him from spatial cracks. One of Malice's brood, then. There were only two things worth noticing about the boy. First was that he had managed to drink two drops of ghostwater. Northstrider could feel their weight between the boy's spirit and his mind. Second: he was still alive. The boy gasped as the cracks that had pressed against his neck vanished. He caught sight of Northstrider and his purple eyes widened. Without another sound, he bowed until his forehead pressed against the floor. Northstrider reached the oracle tree, the collective where his Eyes of the Deep compiled and compared memories. Out of four thousand and ninetysix possible Eyes, two thousand, four hundred and thirteen had been returned. Not bad. A better harvest than he'd expected. He produced a smooth black orb. It was based on the same principle as the Eyes of the Deep, but this construct was many generations more advanced. Someday, if his wish was ever granted, this would be his second mind. He held up the orb, activating it. The oracle tree felt its pull and surrendered itself gladly, the hive-mind of constructs rushing out of its branches in a stream of ghostly light. "Master," the worm on the ground said, "I am unworthy to make a request of you." There was a brief flash of purple in the river of light. It felt like a wound, as though something had been added and then gouged out. Northstrider froze the transfer. He focused his perception on the oracle construct, reading its history. Something had been added. A mind. One of his constructs had become an interesting anomaly. "If you take me from this place, I will forever be in your debt." The oracle's memories told him most of the story. A Lowgold, raised to Truegold thanks to his Spirit Well. Nothing special about that. The children of many Monarchs enjoyed such resources, if they were worthy. But he'd ended up cobbling together a living construct made from pieces Northstrider had left behind. Well, at least someone had made something useful out of this trash heap.

The Monarch finished drawing the oracle out of the tree. He would check on the results of this rogue construct someday, if fate allowed. He might learn something, even from a failed product. Until then, he would continue on as he had before. "Though my service is worth nothing, my family would help repay you. Any of my achievements in the future would belong to you. And future generations would tell tales of your legendary mercy." The halo of shadow behind the young man's face lent him the aspect of a specter. Determination was carved into every line of his smooth face. His purple eyes smoldered with resolve, and with the fires of vengeance. Northstrider honored this young man by meeting those eyes. "No," the Monarch said. Then he stepped back out of space, leaving the world to collapse.