Vol5 prol

Prologue Mu Enkai had been nothing before the egg. He was born a servant, following just enough of a fire Path to allow him to operate a furnace for a low-ranked refinery. He'd spent his days shoveling coals and choking in smoke, making barely enough scales to live on. Then the sky had turned red. He and his fellow servants had taken shelter in the cold furnace, huddling together for days before the earth stopped shaking and the air was no longer flooded with blood aura. When they emerged from hiding, shaking but alive, it had been waiting for him. The egg was a glossy, polished orb the size of a man's head, waiting among the debris of the refiner's shop. Unlike the building, it was unharmed. Spotless. Beautiful. He could feel its promise in his soul; the blood aura that had drowned the world for days was concentrated here. Enkai had never considered himself an ambitious man, but in the egg's sleek shell, he'd seen his future. His reflection was not a servant. Not someone who followed a halfremembered, incomplete Path that wasn't considered good enough for the sects and schools. He'd seen a king, crowned and baptized in blood, and that promise seized something dark in his soul and pulled it forward. When he'd stepped forward, the others had too. He looked to his left and to his right and saw that he was surrounded by thieves. It had been a brief, ugly fight, not a showdown between honorable sacred artists. The egg had gloried in the blood spilled, and when he stood victorious, he didn't think about his wounds or his fallen friends. The egg was all his. He'd drawn it inside him without quite knowing how. It nestled inside his soul even now, warm and safe beside his core, and its power blazed in him like a bonfire.

Enkai had been nothing but a Lowgold, and not an especially powerful one at that. But now, what did advancement mean to him? Highgold was nothing compared to the power of the egg. Now, he sat in the highest floor of the top-ranked restaurant in town. The strongest sacred artists in the region now knelt before him, trembling, daring not even to look him in the eye. Now, they were the servants. Before the egg, Mu Enkai would never have dared speak up in the presence of the three Highgolds who now bowed before him, each with a different Goldsign and a different set of robes. They all represented different Paths, but none of theirs could stand against his. The egg changed his body as much as his spirit. Before, he had been small and hunched; as a boy, he had often been compared to a rat. Now, he was lean and sharp, like a hungry wolf. His Goldsign—a shifting flame pattern on the back of his hand—had been stained red as blood. Veins of crimson stretched from his hand and up his arm as the egg's power radiated out, infusing more of him. He gestured to one of his Highgold servants, and the young woman flinched as she raised a slice of rare spirit-fruit to his lips. Even younger than him, she was already a Highgold. No wonder she'd had such a high opinion of herself. She had required a number of demonstrations of his new power before she understood his strength, but now she respected him. He could read that respect in her trembling fingers and the veil she kept around her spirit. Enkai bit into the fruit and savored its icy flavor. It carried a soothing power into his madra channels, though little of it went into his core. Most of it went to nourish the egg. That was even better. The egg had begun to show cracks, and once it hatched, he could barely imagine the power he'd control. He opened his mouth for another bite, but his servant's hand was frozen. She stared off into the distance, eyes growing wider. She could still ignore him? Weak sparks of fire kindled in the air around his head, formed by his irritation. The egg echoed him, releasing fist-sized balls of blood-red fire. The egg's copies were stronger than his own, but that only excited him. The egg's power was his. Before he could pull the young woman's attention back by force, he noticed that the other two Highgolds—an old man with a trio of horns on

his head and a motherly woman with iron-gray skin—were staring off in the same direction. He extended his balls of fire to the backs of their necks. All three of his servants fell to their knees with cries of pain as his power scorched their skin. "Tell me what it is," he demanded. He may have had power beyond any Highgold, but he was still only Lowgold. Their spiritual perception was beyond his. They looked at each other, which only stoked his rage further. The balls of fire trembled, ready to drive through their bodies. Blood aura affected flesh, so the flames of the egg burned men more easily than wood. "We feel someone," the young woman said. She glanced at the ceiling and licked her lips. That was all she said. He wanted to slap her—the egg's power could boost his basic Enforcer technique into a blow that would crush her skull. Instead, he stood and gripped her by the chin. Her face paled, and her eyes slid to the side so she didn't have to stare into his eyes. "When I ask a question, do you think I want half an answer? Tell me—" "It's the Skysworn," the older woman blurted from the floor. She bowed more deeply. "They must be here to recover the town after the great battle." The old man had also not dared to stand after Enkai forced him to kneel. "They will be pleased to know that you have already restored order." Despite their reassurance, or perhaps because of it, alarm spiked in Enkai's heart. The Skysworn were more than just a police force; they were wandering judges, empowered by the Empire to punish criminals. He had been raised on stories of independent sacred artists being inducted into the Skysworn and going on to become some of the Blackflame Empire's greatest heroes. Even the current Emperor had served as a Skysworn for years. They could take away everything he'd earned for himself. They might even sense the egg in his spirit, and they would surely kill him and take it from his Remnant. The thought of losing the egg made him sweat more than the thought of his death. Enkai released the Highgold's chin and began stalking away, his fireballs blinking out of existence. He had created a room reinforced with

scripts just for an occasion like this. He would hide until they went away. "Keep them away from me," he commanded. "Tell them nothing." Someone rapped on the window. As one, all four pairs of eyes snapped toward the sound. A man stood outside on a dark green cloud, arms crossed, in robes of deep blue. It looked almost like an Arelius uniform, but there was no way he was there to clean the windows. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, he loomed over the room, glaring like an executioner about to pass judgment. His right arm was a Remnant prosthetic, a skeletally thin limb of white light. Despite his young age, he gave off an oppressive feeling, as though he were deciding which of them to destroy first. Enkai shivered at the sight of him, afraid to extend his spiritual perception lest he be punished. Though the egg had made him a conqueror, now he felt like a servant once again, flinching whenever an expert passed. Without waiting for instruction, the old man hurried over to the window and pushed it open. Only then did Enkai notice the pin on the stranger's chest: a green cloud. That was the emblem of the Skysworn, though a full member would be wearing a suit of jade armor. Perhaps a disciple? Or a subordinate, deputized to help deal with the emergency? Whoever the stranger was, Mu Enkai decided it was time to slip away before he was noticed. The Skysworn would assume the Highgolds were in charge anyway, and he gave off the air of a man looking for someone to punish. Let his anger fall on them while Enkai snuck away. The egg would serve him just as well in some other town. "Pardon," the young stranger said, "but could you tell me which of you is in charge here?" His voice was apologetic, and he bowed slightly as he spoke. Enkai stopped at the top of the stairs. All three of the Highgolds glanced back, but the old man coughed before he spoke. "I am happy to represent my master before the Skysworn," he said, and Enkai breathed a little more easily. "Your master?" the Skysworn apprentice asked, looking surprised. "Is there a Truegold in town?" Now that Enkai looked at him further, he saw that the man was even younger than he'd first appeared. And not quite so intimidating as his frame would suggest. A shiver passed through Enkai's soul—the stranger had scanned him. But it was soft as a brushing feather. The scan of a Truegold's perception

might have weighed on him, but this was lighter than a breeze. Either the stranger had withheld his power for the sake of respect, or... Delicately, ready to withdraw at a moment's notice, Enkai extended his own perception toward the stranger. With only a strand of his awareness, he touched the young Skysworn's spirit. It was no stronger than Enkai's own. With such a light touch, he couldn't tell many details, but he didn't get a sense of fathomless strength he would expect from a Skysworn. In fact, the quality of the stranger's madra felt like a child's: like a pure, untainted spring. He couldn't sense the extent of the man's core, not without a more thorough inspection, but his madra was no more dense or potent than an average Lowgold. Shame crept into Enkai's heart, quickly followed by anger. To think, he had allowed one of the Skysworn's servants to frighten him. He hated himself for his momentary weakness. Their exchange of scans took less than a breath. The stranger with the Skysworn pin turned to Enkai, eyebrows raising. Instead of drifting away on his cloud, the boy held up both hands to show he held no weapon—his Remnant hand looked less threatening with fingers spread. Enkai conjured a ball of blood-red fire, contempt fueling his madra. "I rule here," he said harshly. "If the Skysworn need to speak to me, they can come themselves." Still hovering outside the window, the stranger pressed his fists together and bowed over them in a sacred artist's salute. "Forgiveness. We did not intend to disturb you. It is an honor to meet you; we were wondering who had done such an excellent job of protecting this town after the Dreadgod's attack." The crimson flame still drifted around Enkai's head, but he paused. He had defended the town, but he had never expected the Skysworn to recognize the truth. Enkai straightened his spine and faced the stranger head-on. "They had no Skysworn to protect them. They needed a strong leader." "They're alive thanks to you," the Skysworn deputy said, radiating sincerity. The more Enkai saw of the man, the softer he looked. "How did you do it?" The honest admiration in the question cracked through Enkai's suspicion. He swelled with pride; it was about time someone asked him that

question. "People love to follow the strong. You have to show them your power… but not just show them. They have to feel it. You have to grind it into them, so that your strength is as present and undeniable as the sun." Two of the three Highgolds flinched back at the reminder. Not the young woman. She frowned up at a high corner of the room as though staring through it. He didn't spare her a thought. The stranger nodded seriously, rubbing his chin with his hand of flesh, with the attentive air of a man taking notes. He still wore what Enkai would call a glare, but he didn't seem angry. Well, a man couldn't help the face he was born with. He was clearly reasonable, no matter what he looked like. "Well, if your approach worked so well here, I can't wait to see how it will help the next town." Enkai hesitated, the fire around his head sputtering. "The next one?" "In the wake of the crisis, we have more citizens in danger than we have capable leaders. I'll have to report this to my superiors, but I'm sure we'll want to put another town or two under your jurisdiction. If you are willing to serve the Empire in this way, of course." The egg. This was all thanks to the egg. The townsfolk had given him tributes: more scales, elixirs, and treasures than he'd seen in his lifetime before the egg. Another town would make him rich beyond his dreams. But more than the riches, it was the people that captured his imagination. Even more people, bowing to him. Sacred artists taking his orders. He cracked a smile for the first time, and two of the Highgolds joined him, though their expressions were a little too shaky for his taste. The young woman was late, still staring at the corner of the ceiling, but she eventually shook herself awake and smiled even more broadly than the other two. A thread of suspicion crept back in, and he extended his perception. The egg had lent him some of its bloody power, which helped his madra burn through flesh, but it had done nothing to extend his spiritual awareness. He stretched his spirit as far as he could, feeling nothing but the spirits of the remaining townsfolk huddled in their homes…and one presence high in the sky. A Truegold, headed this way. The real Skysworn were coming.

Their servant was just stalling for time. Fear and rage and pain crashed over Mu Enkai in one dark wave, and he fed it all to the egg. Tendrils of its power extended more deeply into his soul, and he welcomed them. The ball of fire over his head swelled to life, turning a deeper red, and the stranger stumbled back. He held up his white arm to shield his face. He had realized his mistake…but too late. Enkai swirled madra through his body, stepping forward and lashing out with a Striker technique. The fireball that he'd created streaked forward like a shooting star, followed by eight lesser lights. This technique had once been used to light firewood, but the egg had transformed it into a new level entirely. It had evolved, becoming a true weapon. Fused with fire madra, the blood power would allow it to burn flesh like dry tinder. It could devour the body of a Lowgold in seconds. Though he hadn't thrown it at a Lowgold. The young Highgold cycled her spirit quickly, raising icy mist as a shield, but his technique burned through hers without slowing down. For an instant, she had a shocked look on her face and a scorched hole in her belly. Then she went up like a torch. She opened her mouth to scream, but the fire had swallowed her breath. Her chest was a blackened ruin before the eight smaller sparks landed, trailing after the initial fireball. As a Highgold, she took a second or two longer to burn. With everything he'd done for this town, they still dared to call the Skysworn. She had sensed them coming and failed to warn him; no matter how many demonstrations he gave, they all still plotted behind his back. The truth felt like a knife in his back, and black hatred rushed out of the egg. Though it didn't use an audible voice, the egg seemed to whisper to him. You have no choice. They pushed you to this. Before a breath of time had passed, while the first Highgold still had half her flesh left, he had already taken aim at the second. The old man kicked off a movement technique, sparks flying from his feet, as he dove for the window. He still presumed to run; that stoked Enkai's fury even hotter. If he had to burn through the Skysworn servant to reach the old man, so be it. But the stranger wasn't outside the window anymore. He was dashing across the wooden floor, focused on Enkai like a man staring at a blood

enemy, pulling back his arm of flesh as though he was about to drive it into Enkai's stomach. Enkai drove his red fireball down instead of forward, slamming it onto the Skysworn servant's head. The man dropped to one knee, ducking to the side, forced to drive his strike up to meet Enkai's wrist. His palm struck, but not hard enough to stop Enkai's move. He seemed even weaker than a normal Lowgold. Pure madra rushed into Enkai's wrist without ruffling a single hair on his arm, but it did flow into his spirit and disrupt his technique. …about as much as a gentle breeze disrupted a bonfire. The bloody fireball fell undeterred, burning through the servant's blue robe in an instant and entering his body. With the bloody power of the egg fueling it, he was dead already. He screamed, but Enkai had already moved past him. He should have known what would happen when he tried his tricks. They wouldn't work on Enkai. The real Skysworn would arrive to find nothing of this town but ash. He leaped out the window and landed on the stranger's green ThousandMile Cloud. From his vantage point, he could see the old man almost to the edge of town, sprinting down the dirt road and past the half-destroyed buildings that had remained after the Bleeding Phoenix's passage. Another few seconds, and he would be beyond Enkai's range. But he wasn't there yet. Enkai hurled another ball of fire flanked by eight lesser echoes, and it hurtled toward its target. The egg's hungry power would draw it to the scent of blood. He would have watched, but a twinge of danger turned him around. Six green daggers floated around the old woman, and her spirit had latched onto his. She paled when he turned around and launched her Forger technique early. Familiar with her madra, Enkai knew that this technique contained a life-poison that was all but impossible to stop. It would devour his life just like his own fire devoured the body, but leave him with an unmarked corpse. A wash of bloody flame consumed all the daggers. He could barely call what he'd done a technique; it was nothing but pure power flowing out of

him. As such, the red flames that landed on her skin didn't consume her instantly. Or quietly. She screamed loud enough to wake the dead as he hopped down from the Thousand-Mile Cloud, landing on the ground two stories below. He felt the first aching pain of exhaustion in his spirit, drawing more deeply on the egg to quench it. The town was nothing more than a collection of homes flanking a single wide dirt road. Most people lived above their businesses, and more than a few faces peeked out of upper windows at the sound of the screams. When they saw it was him, they slammed the windows shut. Cowards. They all disgusted him. Filled by the egg, he poured one ball of fire after another into the air around him, keeping them in orbit around his body. He was relying so much on the egg now that they looked more like fist-sized droplets of blood that were shaped like flames rather than actual fire madra. Eight smaller lights hovered around each one, until he was surrounded by a swirling constellation of power. The energy within him was thirsty. He could feel it. Each technique strained against his control like a dog against a leash, begging to go hunt its prey. Someone slammed to the ground beside him, kicking up a ring of dust. It was the Skysworn stranger. His skin was undoubtedly scorched, his face tight with pain, but he had not been consumed. Enkai's hatred raged hotter; the Skysworn must have wasted valuable defensive constructs on their servants. They spent so much money just to defy him, when they could have had him as an ally. He would show them the truth of the choice they'd made. The stranger spread his hands, watching the fireballs encircling Enkai. "You don't have to hurt anyone else," he said, voice smooth and calming. "This isn't what you want. This is what the Blood Shadow wants. Let's just slow down, and we can talk about how to get you what you want." A peal of laughter boiled up from inside Enkai, loud and venomous. "I'll show you what I want." He released his techniques. Sixteen balls of fire, each trailing eight sparks, streaked away from him in lines of red light so that he was surrounded by a crimson web. There

were sixty-two spirits left living in town. It went down to forty-six in an instant. The egg's power wasn't exhausted yet. After those first people died, their bodies burst into hungry red fire. That flame craved flesh, and it jumped from victim to victim in a second. The second wave didn't die so quickly. The screams rose from a solo to a chorus. Enkai whirled on the Skysworn servant, rage so great his body couldn't contain it. He filled his palm with bleeding fire, but it felt just like blood. "It's mine!" he shrieked, and even he wasn't sure whether he meant the egg or the town. "You don't get—" Enkai froze, throat locking up. Something had changed. The stranger stood with his eyes widened in horror, mouth half-open as he stared at the blackened holes burned in village walls. He looked like a man watching his own home burn. But he felt like a monster. His spirit suddenly loomed like the shadow of a dragon flying overhead. Rage replaced by icy dread, Enkai scanned the stranger's spirit. His core still wasn't dense or bright enough to be a Highgold. For a moment, Enkai wondered what had changed. Then he realized: the man's madra wasn't pure anymore. His channels were filled with black fire. Darkness flooded into the stranger's eyes like ink, his irises kindling into circles of burning red. That horrifying gaze locked onto Enkai. "Why?" the Skysworn servant asked, and the word was a plea. Enkai drew even deeper on the egg. Its power was the ultimate counter to fear. He hurled the ball of red light in his hand, packing twice as much madra into it as usual. The lights following it looked like stars, and each could consume a tiger like a torch. When the technique left his hand, the Skysworn servant's body erupted in a black-and-red haze. It was like an illusory flame, burning all around him, but it put a heavy pressure on Enkai's spirit. The stranger waited, motionless, until the bloody fireball had almost reached his chest. With explosive force, he leaped straight up.

Enkai's fireball blasted through the cloud of dust he'd left behind, which trailed up into the air. The Striker technique looped in the air, swirling up, nine orbiting lights chasing after the stranger. He'd already started falling, gathering red-streaked black fire into his human hand. It gathered slowly, taking far longer than Enkai's technique had, but it carried a great sense of danger. Enkai reached behind him, pulling a twisted green-tipped knife from his waistband. This was a Highgold treasure, one of the most valuable weapons in the town. The blood-fire was rising to meet the falling servant, and even if he landed safely, this dagger would be waiting for him. A green cloud swept in from the left, catching the stranger mid-fall. He flew away on his Thousand-Mile Cloud, and once again Enkai's technique swept through empty space where his target had once been. Enkai's fireballs were Striker techniques. They were not Forged, so they ran out of power quickly. This one had already diminished to almost nothing, and Enkai could feel it unraveling. He snarled, forcing his spirit past its exhaustion again, digging deeper into the egg for another technique. He locked his eyes on the Skysworn's emerald cloud. There was no one on it. A great, hot, overwhelming power loomed up from behind. Enkai turned, dagger raised, and a white fist caught him in the jaw. In his conquest, Enkai had taken blows from Highgolds before. The power of the egg had strengthened his body until he felt like he had leather for skin and stone for bones. He could catch a hammer-blow with one hand, standing as firm as though his boots were nailed to the ground. This time, he felt nothing but a flash of pain and a tremendous rush of noise. Then he realized he was lying on the inn's floor in the middle of a pile of splinters. Groggy, he tilted his head up; there was a hole in the front wall big enough to ride a horse through. The stranger stood there, a silhouette against the sky holding a ball of black fire. More flame blazed around him in a hazy corona. His shadow fell over Enkai like the specter of death. No. Enkai would not allow himself to die here. Not to a Lowgold. The power of the egg was much greater than this. In an instant, Enkai drew his core dry. He pulled so hard that it might cause permanent damage to his madra channels, but he was beyond caring.

He pulled up all the power of his spirit, drinking thirstily from the madra of the egg. Between his hands, a red light bloomed. This didn't look anything like flame; it was a pure crimson light that hung in the middle of his palms like a red sun. This was a technique worthy of the egg. It sang with power, an echo of the Phoenix's song that had turned the sky red. In triumph, he pushed forward, releasing the technique on the Skysworn's servant. A river of light, straight as an arrow and thick as a man's leg, blasted forth with all his rage and fury. The stranger lifted his left palm in response, his ball of dark madra hovering in front of him. It erupted into a bar of liquid fire, black streaked with red. The two streams of fire clashed head-on, only a foot from the Skysworn apprentice's outstretched hand. Enkai was prepared for a direct clash of their spirits, pushing the egg's madra into the technique so he could blast through the stranger's technique. It wasn't enough. The dark flame devoured his, melting through an inch at a time. By the time Enkai started to panic, the stranger's power was almost at his chest. "You can't—" Enkai started to say. Then the bar of black fire burned through his stomach. And the egg was gone. Dark flames spread through him, and he collapsed to the floor like a straw doll. It didn't hurt like he would have expected. It only tingled, as though he faded away like a Remnant. He had time for one last, jealous thought. This stranger had so much power, but he acted like a servant. If Enkai had sacred arts like that and combined them with the egg, he could have ruled the world. Seconds later, Mu Enkai was nothing more than a pile of ashes. Unsatisfied, dark fire spread from his body, consuming the ruined inn. The screams coming from around town slowly died while the survivors huddled in silence and darkness, hoping to be overlooked. In the midst of the black flames, the apprentice Skysworn stood alone.

Ghostwater

Chapter 1 On their clouds, Lindon and the two Truegold Skysworn returned to Stormrock, the black city in the sky. They alighted in the tallest tower, presenting entrance codes to the Skysworn on guard. This was Starsweep Tower, headquarters of the Skysworn. For them, it must be like coming home. It was only Lindon's second time inside. Numb, he followed the two green-armored figures inside, past a few other scattered Skysworn. They all looked as exhausted as he felt, and the smell of blood hung heavy in the hallways. More than once, he saw a servant in the dark blue uniform of the Arelius family mopping up a puddle left by a bloodspawn. Or one of its victims. The Bleeding Phoenix hadn't even attacked directly. It had only risen for a few days. They would be cleaning up the aftermath for years to come. All the Skysworn were either on a mission, preparing for a mission, or too injured to work. They were stretched so thin that even the Lowgolds didn't have a moment to rest. Without a word, the two Truegolds brought Lindon to a single, sparsely furnished room behind a black door. It was lit by a stark white circle of script on the ceiling, and filled with only one round table and nine surrounding chairs. There was a three-foot gash in the wooden table, and it looked fresh. Lindon slid his bulky brown pack into one of the chairs, then turned to leave the room. Bai Rou held up one armored hand, his eyes burning yellow in the shadow beneath his hat of woven reed. "Stay here," he commanded. Lindon wanted nothing more than to sink into a chair, but he had more pressing concerns. "Pardon, but I will return. I'd like to go see Yerin."

Renfei, a slight woman with a resolute air and a black cloud hovering in the air over her, jabbed a finger at the table. "Sit. We'll be back. Do not leave this room." "I would like to check on her for myself, if you don't mind." The last he'd seen her, her soul had been exhausted, but her Blood Shadow was stable. That was the main reason why he wanted to make sure she was all right; the Skysworn were not likely to leave someone with a Blood Shadow to herself. Especially not now. Bai Rou stepped forward. He was a brick wall of a man, and the armor only added to his silhouette. "Sit," he said. Though, as big as Bai Rou was, he only had an inch or two on Lindon. Compared to the difference in their spirits, that didn't seem like much. How would that armor help him against the Path of Black Flame? Lindon realized he was meeting those yellow eyes glare for glare, and dark madra was creeping into his vision. Blackflame flowed through him, angry and defiant. He looked to the side, blinking his eyes clear, and focused on his pure core. With the clarity came the cold shiver of reality setting in; he had almost started a fight with a pair of armed and armored Truegolds in their headquarters. "Apologies. I have been...stressed." Lindon couldn't have called Renfei's expression sympathetic, but at least she hadn't pulled the hand-sized hammer hanging at her hip. "Don't be. The target is dead, the parasite neutralized. Mission accomplished. Don't think about it more than you need to, just do as you're told." He sunk into the nearest chair, trying not to just collapse and sleep. He tried to brace his right arm on the table, but he forgot to cycle madra through it, so his Remnant arm sank right through the wood. "I apologize for my disrespect, but I am concerned about Yerin. Please, I need to know that she is being treated well." ~~~ Yerin was being treated like a prize pig hauled in front of a bunch of butchers.

Her hands were manacled in halfsilver and chained to the stone wall behind her, while a bunch of unarmored Skysworn prodded her spirit with theirs. It was hard not to shake like a shaved bear in the snow under the tickle of their scans. "And you feel that you were treated...poorly by the Skysworn?" the voice of this green-hooded man made it clear that he thought a knife across the throat and a shallow grave was better treatment than she deserved. "What put that in your head?" Yerin asked, glaring at him. She didn't say any more, but one of the hooded figures in the back scribbled onto a little board. She figured they were making sure she was still herself, and not a shell the Blood Shadow happened to crawl into. She just wasn't sure how they were doing that, when they didn't know her from a bullfrog. "Have you had any urge to harm or kill your fellow man?" "Having a few of those urges right now." "What color is this card?" He held up a paper with a splash of yellow paint on it. Her Goldsigns twitched, the silver blades hanging over each shoulder eager to cut her free. She calmed them—they wouldn't be able to cut through the halfsilver, made of madra as they were, so she would have to dig through the script-reinforced stone behind her. And the second she started trying that, they would cook her like a side of bacon. Still, she was stone certain they were doing nothing but burning up her time. "What does that tell you? Is a Blood Shadow blind to color?" The Skysworn examiner looked like he was struggling not to spit at her feet. "Answer the question." "Yellow. You want me to tell you the shapes next?" This time, he held up a green card. "And this one?" "...if you can't tell what color that is, you need a new line of work." Every Skysworn in the tower wore green robes when they were out of their green armor. He paused for a second as though deciding whether he could backhand her or not, but accepted the answer. He pulled out a card with a triangle painted on it. "Do you know what shape this is?" She stared at him. "Are you pulling my chain right now?" "Answer the question."

She shook her wrists, rattling the chains. "You're welcome to kill me now if it'll bring this to an end." He stepped closer, wind madra swirling green around him. He wore a thin beard and he looked at her like she'd killed his children and made him watch. "Don't tempt me, Redmoon." She grinned at him. "Not Redmoon. Arelius." Eithan Arelius was the only reason she was tied up at all, instead of facing the business end of an axe. If he touched her without the stamp of his Emperor, or at least another Underlord, Eithan would wear his skin like a scarf. He reddened and turned away as the door opened. When Bai Rou entered, the examiner and note-taker buzzed over to him like vultures to a corpse. They muttered to him for a while—telling tales about her, she was sure. The big man's burning yellow eyes flicked to her, and she turned her smile on him like a blade. He gave no sign whether she'd drawn blood or not, but raised his voice so she could hear. "She's clear?" "It's in a stable condition," the note-taker said, "but there's no telling how long that will last. It's largely up to her." "She'll turn against us before the sun sets," the examiner said, glaring at her. Bai Rou folded his arms and leaned against the wall, and he was watching her too. "She comes with me." Yerin rattled her chains again. "We're wasting breath. You got a key, or am I going to go gray in here?" They freed her in spite of the examiner's protests, but left the halfsilver shackles on her wrists. Bai Rou pulled her into the hallway and began marching her down without a word. She caught more than one hostile glare, rough search of her spirit, or flare of a half-formed technique. What a spine that took, to shake swords at a girl in chains. They had better hope she didn't remember their faces. Not only did she have the power of Redmoon Hall inside her, she had the will to use it against them. They'd dropped her off a cliff and left her to die. Well, one Skysworn had. Smartest thing to do would be to kill her flat-out. If they let her hit Truegold, they'd regret it.

"You looking for somewhere to drop me?" she asked. He said nothing. "You can't kill me, so you want to put me to work. Lindon isn't cutting it on his own?" She tried to conceal the real worry she felt, after she'd been forced to leave Lindon in the care of the two Truegolds. She'd only had a fingernail's weight of trust in the Skysworn to begin with, and now even that much had dried up and blown away. They wouldn't draw swords on him, not with Eithan's name hanging over him, but they wouldn't step quick to help him either. He needed her help. "The Blackflame completed his mission," Bai Rou said. "We will speak to you both, and that's all you need to know." "That so? Last I checked, there were three of us. What about the new girl?" She thought she saw a shadow of worry pass over his yellow eyes, and that cheered her. "She's coming too," he said, scowling. ~~~ Renfei stood in front of the room where she'd left Akura Mercy to recover. It swung open soundlessly, revealing a mass of darkness so thick it was almost palpable. If she stuck her hand past the doorframe, it looked as though it would be swallowed by endless night. Only one thing was visible in the inky murk: a bright purple book, hovering in the center of the room. It glowed, but somehow cast no light. Only the book itself was visible, a single distinct figure in an ocean of black. The book was spread open, its pages thick, and it pressed on her spirit with an impression of overpowering might and incomprehensible age. Then it vanished, and Mercy hopped out of the dark. If not for her wide purple eyes, Mercy would look more like a friendly innkeeper's daughter than a child of the mighty Akura clan. She beamed at Renfei, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward with a twinkling smile. "Sorry, sorry! I know it's gloomy. I heard you knock, but you know how it is when you're deep into cycling. You just lose your head!"

A staff fell out from the darkness. Made of what looked like polished black roots, the staff was taller than Mercy, with its top carved to resemble a snarling dragon with purple pinpricks for eyes. ...or perhaps not carved. Though its eyes didn't move, Renfei was sure they'd fixed on her, and she thought she heard a hiss. It was enough to get her madra cycling and send a hand to her hammer. Mercy grabbed for the falling staff, fumbled it, tried to catch it with her other hand, almost lost her balance, and ended up seizing it in both hands. She raised it triumphantly. "Got it!" Renfei's eyes moved from her to the shadow behind her. "What were you doing in there?" she asked. She didn't intend to, but she was using her Skysworn voice: the tone of a career authority figure. "Cycling," Mercy said, waving one hand as though she meant to blow away the darkness like smoke. "It's not my favorite aura to cycle. Hard not to fall asleep." It was deep shadow aura in there, laced with some other, darker aspects that dissipated even as Renfei tried to sense them. It was a tapestry of black. Some of the rumors about Akura Paths flashed through her mind, and she could feel her expression harden. This was a fine nest of vipers she had to babysit. Mercy was watching her, and slowly she stood up. Renfei felt an instant of what she could only call a premonition: she was about to see beyond the mask of the cheery, innocent girl. The Akura Lowgold reached up with one hand—gloved in slick black, as though she'd dipped it in tar—and placed her fingers on Renfei's arm. "You must be exhausted," she said. Renfei searched her face for anything mocking, but found only sympathy. A trainee shouldn't speak to their Skysworn with such familiarity, and a Lowgold should express more respect to a Truegold. But she was an Akura, so that much was to be expected. She would have grown up around people who could evaporate Renfei with a thought. Sometimes, Renfei wondered why any Akura stayed only Lowgold, even one as young as Mercy. "You don't need to worry about me," Renfei said, turning to walk down the hall. "Follow me, we have to meet your...partners." Mercy followed without protest, walking side-by-side. She twirled her staff and almost dropped it. "I can't imagine a more trying time to be a

Skysworn," she said idly. "I certainly can't remember one," Renfei said. Or the last time she'd actually sat down for a meal, instead of taking it on her feet or on her cloud. "I don't know how you find time to sleep." "Sleep?" Renfei said dryly. "Never heard of it." Mercy nodded along. "You can work every hour of the day, and there's still more to do." "We'd be short on staff if we had twice the Skysworn we do. Recruitment will be up next year, you can bet on that, but that means even more work for the instructors and recruiters..." ~~~ Renfei and Mercy arrived first. Lindon looked up hopefully when the door opened, but when he saw it wasn't Yerin, he sank back down into his chair. The respectful thing to do would have been to rise from his seat, but he couldn't make himself move. The green-armored Skysworn gave him a quick look that suggested she noticed. He winced. She didn't spare him more than a glance, though, continuing to talk lightly with the girl at her side. Mercy held her tall black dragon-staff behind her back, and the piercing purple gemstones it used for eyes seemed to fix Lindon with a glare. The Akura girl hopped into a chair opposite Lindon. She almost tipped over backwards, grabbing onto the table for support. Renfei chuckled, and Lindon wondered if that was the first time he'd seen her laugh. She had always seemed stern and professional, if not cold, to Yerin and Lindon. Even before they'd come into direct conflict. Now she treated them like suspects she might have to execute at any time. Maybe she treated Mercy differently as a daughter of the Akura clan. But then, it was hard to stay on guard against someone who was struggling to pull her chair down to the ground before she spilled over. Once she settled at the table and sighed in relief, Mercy gave Lindon a wave. "You've been working hard too, haven't you? I've caused you trouble," she said apologetically, bobbing her head. She had been recovering from madra exhaustion and a collection of light injuries, after their fight against the bloodspawn and subsequent days in a

basement. The spiritual healers of the Skysworn had determined that she was unfit for duty, so she had remained here to recover. She had actually protested Lindon being sent out alone, trying to struggle out of her bed before Bai Rou restrained her. No, the strange one was Lindon, having been proclaimed fit for duty so quickly. Part of that was the speed of his physical recovery, thanks to the Bloodforged Iron body: after three days in that basement, he had already recovered almost entirely. The touch of Little Blue, the Sylvan Riverseed, had helped ease the burden on his spirit. But there was nothing she could do about spiritual fatigue, and Lindon still felt a deep ache in his madra channels from overuse. He wondered if he had really been in any better shape than the other two, in terms of his soul. Or if the Skysworn had simply sent him out without caring if he lived. "No, no," Lindon said hurriedly, "I hope you're all right. I couldn't—" "Quiet," Renfei said, cutting him off. "You want to chatter, do it on your own time." He couldn't help but notice that she hadn't interrupted Mercy. The door swung open again, and Bai Rou ushered Yerin in ahead of him. Seeing Yerin in one piece was a deep breath of relief for Lindon. Her skin was covered in thin scars and her black robes were tattered, but that had always been true. Two arms of Forged silver madra extended from her back, their ends flattening into blades: her Goldsigns. The halfsilver manacles around her wrist bothered him at first, but he understood the necessity. Her Blood Shadow was made of living madra, like a Remnant, so it wouldn't be able to manifest through halfsilver without carving a chunk of it out. Yerin wouldn't be able to cycle her own madra through her hands without great difficulty, and using a technique of any kind would be much harder than usual. She was effectively hobbled. But without such precautions, she might not be able to leave this place alive. Her face cracked into a half-smile when she saw him, and she started to speak, but Renfei repeated her line about chatter. Yerin rolled her eyes, then took a chair next to Lindon. Mercy waved at her, smiled, and mouthed the word 'Hello!' Looking somewhat confused, Yerin nodded back. Bai Rou slammed the door and leaned against it, the brim of his hat tilting down to cover his eyes. Was he standing guard against an escape

attempt, or just generally being intimidating? Renfei dropped a cloth sack onto the table. Its string was drawn shut, but a watery blue light spilled from its mouth. She surveyed them as though looking over a host of enemy troops. The cloud hanging over her head seemed darker and more solid than ever. "You're all Golds," she began. "I won't spare my words. We all know why the Captain put you all together." Because a Blackflame, a Blood Shadow, and an Akura were all potentially dangerous liabilities, but their backing was too strong. The Skysworn couldn't kill or imprison them without cause. "Because you don't give two plucked hairs if we live or die," Yerin said, propping her chin on her hand. That was also true. "I wouldn't put you on the same team if the Captain hadn't ordered it," Renfei continued without acknowledging Yerin. "And even so, we had never intended to give you assignments. Keeping you out of the public eye and under our supervision would have been enough." She really wasn't sparing her words. Lindon was almost impressed, but her sudden frankness made him wary. What was she leading up to? "Now, the situation has changed. We're going to use every asset we can lay our hands on, and if it turns out we can't use you, we'll throw you out." "Seems to me you tried that already," Yerin said, but before her statement was halfway out, dark fog boiled out from Renfei. Cloud Hammer madra. Though it looked like mist, Lindon got the spiritual impression of a great fortress wall. "Do not take this lightly," Renfei said, nailing Yerin to the spot with the force of her stare. Yerin didn't back down or look away, but she did shut her mouth. "We will put you to use for the Empire, or we will throw you in a cell. At best. Now, under ordinary circumstances, Skysworn teams select from the available missions together. But the three of you have to stay isolated from the public. Rumors about a Blackflame loose in the Empire are bad; rumors about a Blackflame under the command of the Skysworn are good. But only if he is under the control of the Skysworn. Understood?" That went for all three of them, of course. The Skysworn might not trust Yerin because of her Blood Shadow, but if she did eventually earn their faith, it would look as though they'd captured a member of Redmoon Hall

and compelled her to work for them. And an Akura working for the Empire, instead of the other way around, would make the entire Blackflame Empire look stronger. No one said a word, but Mercy nodded eagerly. "I will be brief, because we have a cloudship to catch on the hour." She activated a script on her armored wrist, and a beam of light streamed out, projecting lines of violet light on the air. They sketched a ghostly model of an island, hovering in the middle of tossing waves. Lindon was less than impressed. A White Fox binding could have made an illusion that looked real, and suggested sound and even smell. "We're headed for a three-day journey into the Trackless Sea. It will be cramped and uncomfortable, and I expect you to silently cycle the entire way unless we need you to fight. Our destination is a pocket world called Ghostwater, created by the Monarch Northstrider." There was a general intake of breath all around the room. "Pocket world?" Yerin asked, leaning forward eagerly. Her bladed Goldsigns tapped the table beside her. "That's where sects keep their treasures." Mercy rubbed black-gloved hands together. "I've always wanted to visit one! Our family has one, but it's too dangerous for anyone less than a Lady." "I'm sorry," Lindon said, "but...a pocket world. That means..." "It means a pocket-sized world. A self-contained space much smaller than our own, but separate. Exactly like it sounds." He wished he hadn't had to ask. Renfei continued, pointing to the image of the island. "This world, Ghostwater, was designed to contain a research facility. The honored Monarch abandoned it almost fifty years before eventually losing his life." According to Eithan, most believed that the Monarch had died seven years ago. Not even two years ago, Lindon had seen Northstrider alive with his own eyes. At least that much of the Skysworn's information was inaccurate, though they wouldn't believe him if he corrected them. Besides, the Monarch wouldn't mind them entering a world he'd abandoned decades ago. Would he? "Now, the battle between the Akura Matriarch and the Dreadgod has damaged the anchor binding that world to our own. If our experts are correct, it will crumble within the next few months."

Lindon was dying to ask about this "anchor," but he suspected Renfei didn't know herself. And wouldn't appreciate further interruptions even if she did. Reaching into the bag she'd brought, Renfei produced a jewel. A sapphire, which shimmered like sunlight filtered through water. White and green lights flickered at its heart, though it cast blue illumination on the walls and ceiling. "We were alerted to the current problem by this artifact: the Eye of the Deep. It was left to the last Emperor in the Blackflame family for safekeeping by one of the Monarch's Heralds. It grants access to main facilities of Ghostwater." She held up the gem. "I will carry this and guide us around, so stick with me. Without this, you will die alone as space itself crumbles around you." "Forgiveness, but what is our assignment?" Lindon asked. He was actually eager to see something Northstrider had built, but there had to be a purpose for their presence there. Lindon and Yerin didn't know how to stabilize a world. "We go as scouts," Renfei answered. "We will determine if Ghostwater is really damaged. If it is, we will secure as many treasures as possible for the Empire and then report back. At that point, the Emperor will decide what to do with the time we have left." One of Yerin's sword-arms raised. "And how heated do we expect this to get?" Bai Rou's yellow eyes narrowed on her, and Renfei's brow furrowed in confusion. "It's a relatively cold sea, and it's almost winter. Bring a coat." "Not what I meant." This time, Bai Rou answered her. "The world's defenses are down. Could be scavengers." Yerin nodded, as though that was exactly what she'd wanted to hear. "Is there anyone living inside?" Mercy asked. "No," Renfei said, tucking the Eye of the Deep back into the bag. She gestured to Bai Rou, who stepped away from the door. "Now, we are entering into an unknown situation with an unknown number of enemies outside the boundaries of the Empire. If you aren't prepared, feel free to stay in a cell." Before leaving the room, she turned to Lindon. "We need all the boots we can get on the ground. Go get your turtle. Half an hour."

Then she was gone. ~~~ The flight to the island was quiet, boring, and more than cramped. Their cloudship was covered, but hardly large enough for six people. Orthos took up most of the upper deck himself, and he spent most of the journey tucked away in his shell, pretending they weren't in the sky. Yerin and Mercy, at least, could cycle aura on the ship. There was no way to start a fire without killing them all, so Lindon just focused the Heaven and Earth Purification Wheel on his cores. It felt like spending three days with iron bands around his lungs. After the first full day of being packed into the cramped, dark confines of the cloudship, Mercy scooted over to Yerin and Lindon. Orthos snored behind them, and the two Truegolds were up on deck. "What do you think the pocket world is like?" Mercy whispered, full of excitement. Lindon exchanged glances with Yerin. She was sitting next to the wall, Goldsigns curled down over her shoulders to avoid scraping the ceiling. "I suspect you know more about that than we do," Lindon said politely. He and Yerin hadn't figured out how to handle Mercy yet. She had acted like they were all friends almost from the moment they'd first met. It was disconcerting. "Oh, I don't know anything about our family's pocket world. And now we get to see one!" She clapped a hand on Yerin's shoulder, and Yerin shrugged it off. "Have to wonder what Eithan would think about us getting hauled away," she muttered to Lindon. "If he didn't want us here, he'd show up and take us away." Eithan had left them to the Skysworn for a reason, and he rarely explained himself. Lindon relished the chance to make decisions for himself, but at the same time, the Underlord still hadn't taught him any pure madra techniques. "My master used to leave me to take risks for myself too," Yerin said. "Can't make it far without taking any risks." She hesitated, then added, "Especially if you're trying to make it…so far." Lindon knew what she was referring to. Eithan had shared his ambitions with them in the form of a vision from the heavens. It had sharpened

Lindon's aims, but he hadn't had a chance to discuss the vision with Yerin yet. Even now, Mercy was with them all the time. She leaned closer, eyes sparkling. "What are we talking about?" Yerin ignored her, and Lindon made up a flimsy excuse. Finally, they reached the island. It was larger than Lindon had imagined from the sketch in the air; big enough that from their vantage point hovering just above the trees, he couldn't see the opposite shore. It was heavily forested except for the beaches, with one prominent hill in the center doing a decent impression of a mountain. Renfei put them down on the beach, the dark green cloud beneath their ship hovering inches over the sand. Withdrawing the Eye of the Deep, she headed for the treeline. Lindon, Mercy, and Yerin leaped out of the ship at the first opportunity, all groaning at the chance to stretch their legs. Orthos followed them a moment later, landing in the sand like a boulder. He didn't stretch his head out. In fact, after falling, he pulled his legs in as well. A shadow lay across the turtle's spirit. Lindon could feel it through their contract. He needed Little Blue to balance out his spirit, and soon, or he would become a problem for all of them. Lindon pulled his pack from his shoulder, slinging it around, intending to pull out the Sylvan Riverseed. "Here it is," Renfei called. She swept out a hand, and a bolt of dark cloud slammed into a tree in front of it, crushing it and sending it tumbling into the forest. In front of her stood a jade doorway, not surrounded by any wall. The door was rectangular and covered in script, and it shimmered blue-green like a murky pond with its surface disturbed. Renfei pulled out the Eye of the Deep, glancing at it and then back to her partner. "Bai Rou." The huge, green-armored man had already left the ship, his hat of dried straw shading his face. He strode over to her, where they exchanged an animated discussion. "What's crawled up their armor?" Yerin asked, nudging him with the side of her silver Goldsign. Mercy stumbled in the sand, but braced herself with her staff of smooth black. Its dragon head hissed at her, glaring with violet eyes. "The door

wasn't supposed to be open." Lindon rested his hand on Orthos' shell, considering. "They're going to separate us," Lindon said, keeping his voice low. The other two turned to him, Mercy looking resigned, Yerin's face darkening. "One group goes through to scout, and the other stays out here until the first reports back. They'll divide us so that each of them can handle a group on their own." Yerin's hand moved for the hilt of her sword. She'd been allowed to have the weapon back when none of the Skysworn could sense anything exceptional about it. It was the weapon of a Sage, but neither Yerin nor Lindon had said anything. It seemed the Sword Sage's blade could hide from lesser artists. "Let them try to split us up. Now's our chance; we fight them out here." She nodded to Orthos. "Big guy ties up the big guy, and the other three of us take Renfei." Lindon exchanged glances with Mercy, and both of them extended a hand in a calming gesture. "We don't need to go that far," Mercy said. "It's too much of a risk. We don't need any more enemies than necessary." Yerin gave them a sour look. "You two got in step awfully quick." She took her hand away from her sword, but her Goldsigns twitched as though ready for action. "Wei Shi Lindon," Renfei shouted. "You and the beast are with me. Ladies, you stay with Bai Rou. We will observe the situation and report back within the hour; I can relay a message to Bai Rou at any time." Unsurprised, Lindon rapped his knuckles on Orthos' shell. "It's time, Orthos." The turtle's limbs slid out slowly. He didn't feel tired. Quite the opposite; it felt as though Orthos were wrestling to keep himself under control. The rings of red in his black eyes were bright, but he nodded to Lindon. Lindon and Orthos joined Renfei, facing the portal. Its rippling surface gave no indication of what waited on the other side. "We walk through together," the Skysworn said, cloud rolling over her head. Lindon took a deep breath and stepped forward. Yerin stopped him, hand on his left arm.

She looked as though the words had gotten caught as she tried to speak. She cleared her throat. "...stay sharp," she said at last. Mercy gave him a wave. "Gratitude," Lindon said, dipping his head to them both. Then, with Orthos on one side and Renfei on the other, they stepped into the jade doorway. As he'd experienced before, the world was swallowed by an endless expanse of blue light that looked thick, as though he could reach his hand out and run his hand down it as though down a veil. But this time, it only lasted an instant.

Chapter 2 The air ripped like a torn page. Lindon stepped through the portal into a bubble of air the size of a castle. His shoes crunched on the dry sand of the ocean's floor, which spread out in front of him to the edges of the bubble. Twisted rock formations and bunches of brush-like weeds rose in irregular patches, with tiny crabs skittering from shadow to shadow. The water outside the bubble was black as ink, but the space was brightly lit by…Lindon hesitated to call it a "tree." It looked more like a glowing, abstract sculpture meant to represent a tree: a bunch of blue tubes spread out like roots coiled together to make a trunk, and at the top—where he would expect leaves—were clusters of glowing yellow lights. They weren't too bright to stare at, but all together they lit the bubble like late afternoon. This ocean clearing was silent in a way the land never was. No wind brushed these plants, and no waves crashed nearby. Only the occasional scuff of sand or the soft drip of water disturbed the stillness, and the air tasted of salt and green plants. A sense of awe hung heavy over the space, like Lindon had trespassed on an ancient tomb. Invisible pressure pushed on him as though he'd shouldered the entire weight of the ocean above. It was only a moment before he realized that the pressure wasn't his imagination. By then, he'd noticed that Renfei had stopped, one hand on her hammer, her cycling madra drawing wisps of dark cloud around her armor. Orthos growled so low and loud that the sand shook. They weren't alone. A young man sat with legs crossed on top of a nearby boulder. His robes were white, his unbound hair spilling down his back, and his features so delicate that at first Lindon mistook him for a woman. A disc of shadow hovered behind his head like a dark halo.

There were others that might have drawn Lindon's eye first, but this man drew his spiritual perception like a magnet. He was a deep, dark weight, and Lindon had to pull back his perception before he touched the young man's spirit. He was cycling now, eyes closed and breath even, but Lindon feared that even the slightest touch would wake him. Far at the other end of the clearing, where the edge of the bubble met the sand, a sprawling miniature palace of golden madra glittered in the light. A pair of servants in plain, identical white coats stood at attention in front of the curtain that served as the door. A...creature...peeked out of that curtain, shimmering even more than the palace. It looked like a woman merged with a dragon, covered in gold scales and with a face closer to that of a lizard than of a human. She wore strings of jade, silver, and pearls in layers around her neck, and rather than a sacred artist's robe, she had wrapped herself in silk of every color. As she saw the newcomers, a smile stretched across her leathery lips, and she casually manifested a shining drop of gold madra between her claws. Lindon began cycling Blackflame. Once, he had caught a Truegold offguard and burned away the man's hand. If he could injure Sandviper Gokren so badly, he might have a chance against these strangers. So long as they didn't notice him first. His attention was drawn by a deadlier threat: a flash of red from the left, far away from both the cycling man and the dragon-woman. He recognized that color. He recognized that sensation in his spirit, a shivering impression of a thousand corpses drowning in a crimson sea. A young woman stepped up, Blood Shadow covering her like a cloak. Her hair fell into her eyes, shrouding her expression, but blood madra trickled away from her feet, steadily spreading across the sand. She didn't bother to veil her spirit, so she blazed like a bloody torch to Lindon's perception. She was Truegold, without a doubt, and a strong one at that. She gave Lindon the same impression as Renfei or Bai Rou, and she looked to be at least ten years younger. The Redmoon woman made three, but there was a fourth presence nearby. He cast out his perception and immediately noticed a tiny hut to his right. It looked like it had been slapped together from mud and bundles of dried grass, though he could see neither of those materials anywhere around him.

Another young man, about Lindon's age, pulled himself out of the hut's doorway like a corpse crawling from a grave. His eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded, his gray cloak stained and dirty. Two emerald horns rose from his forehead, pointing up. Lindon accidentally brushed the man's spirit with his spiritual perception, and he hurriedly pulled it back. The man seemed not to notice, but his aura felt as strong and steady as the roots of a mountain. He took in the situation with the look of a man who would rather be anywhere else. Though he had done nothing that Lindon could tell, the golden-scaled woman stopped in her tracks, looking nervously in his direction. The girl from Redmoon Hall watched them all. "Who are you?" the horned man asked the Skysworn, wearily. Renfei was muttering under her breath. "Bai Rou, do not follow. I repeat, maintain your position and call for reinforcements. Multiple enemies. We will try to disengage." When the man addressed her, she drew up straight and consciously drew her hand away from her weapon. The black cloud over her head rolled and rumbled. "We are the Skysworn of the Blackflame Empire," Renfei announced. "We are responding to reports of a disturbance around this facility after the passage of the Bleeding Phoenix." Her voice was smooth and practiced, but her tension infected Lindon. He withdrew Blackflame, changing his breathing pattern and pulling power from his pure core. Blackflame would serve him better in combat, but in a fight between Truegolds, could he even make a difference? Anonymity would serve him better. The man's perception moved over their group, slow and careless. He dismissed Lindon in a blink, but his spirit lay heavy on Orthos and Renfei. "Who is backing you? The Winter Sage?" Orthos snarled, smoke and red light rising from his shell. "We need not answer to you." The stranger stared at Orthos with absolute disinterest, as though replying was too much effort. Based on Lindon's feeling of the horned man's spirit, his confidence was entirely justified. A woman's voice piped up over his, airy and amused. "When you're done, leave me their trinkets," the golden dragon-girl said. "It's so exciting to see a pack just bulging with who-knows-what treasures. And I like the look of that armor."

The green-horned man sighed. "Not every fight needs to be to the death, dragon. What could they possibly have on them?" "They shouldn't be here," came an eerie whisper from the Redmoon Hall girl. The liquid form of her Blood Shadow had almost reached the base of the portal. "They are not bound by the rules. Who can know who sent them?" "We are here on behalf of the Blackflame Empire," Renfei said loudly, "under the protection of the Akura family." She shot a glance to the man cycling on the boulder. "If we have disturbed the honorable representative of Redmoon Hall, we apologize and will withdraw." "Back," she said under her breath to Lindon. "Back through the portal." Lindon turned immediately, but a tendril of blood raised itself from the ground and poised in front of him like a snake coiling to strike. "Hold, Lowgold," the young woman commanded. "We wait for instructions." "No need to bother your Sage with this," the golden dragon said. She was approaching by then, strolling closer to the portal, though Lindon noticed she gave the cycling man's boulder a wide berth. "Strip them and send their bodies to the ocean. What is that behind your back, Skysworn?" For the first time, Lindon realized that Renfei was gripping the Eye of the Deep behind her back in her left hand. Her fist tightened around the gem, but she still edged backwards. "I salute the honored representative of the Desert Monarch and King of all Dragons, and I assure you, if we are allowed to return to our empire, we will send you a greeting-gift that far outstrips any of our meager belongings. Furthermore—" The world went silent as the young man on the boulder opened his eyes. Like Mercy's, they shimmered like a deep amethyst. Shadow flashed out from the seated man as though it had been unleashed, dimming all light. His right hand drifted up, then down, like a painter leisurely adding a stroke to canvas. "Silence," he said, as his hand lowered. In a blink, so that Lindon thought he'd imagined it, a thin line of shadow flickered down, passing through the middle of Renfei's body from the top of her head down. The Akura representative closed his eyes. Renfei fell apart.

Her armor was still untouched, but her body collapsed in a pile of blood. Lindon stared, too stunned to be horrified, and before he could avert his eyes, the Blood Shadow covered Renfei's corpse. An instant later, a towering giant of black clouds slid out of the Shadow with an explosion of force that sent both Lindon and Orthos tumbling away from the portal. The Remnant punched two fists of dark fog together with explosions that cracked like thunder, launching itself forward. The golden dragon-girl met it with a tinkling laugh, sending a wristthick river of golden liquid punching through the spirit, but Lindon didn't have time to watch. The Blood Shadow was re-forming, gathering itself up to engulf him. A massive boulder plunged from above, slamming into the sand, cutting off the Blood Shadow and shielding Lindon. The green-horned man stood staring at a hole next to him, where that boulder had once rested. He gave no sign that he had even moved, his dirty cloak hanging dead from his shoulders. "He is not your opponent, Yan Shoumei," he said wearily. "But you are," she said, gathering her Blood Shadow around her and dashing forward." The young man walked to the other side of another boulder, kicking it lightly. A green ring flashed as his foot made contact, and the boulder shot forward as though launched from a catapult. Whether by design or coincidence, it landed inches from the first boulder, between Lindon and the portal. Lindon ducked behind the stones, leaning around them to look at the place where Renfei had fallen. He was choked by a complex mess of emotions when he saw her half a face—relief that she was gone, regret that he couldn't bring her body back to her family, and fear now that she wasn't around to protect him. Though he'd never trusted her, at least she'd been on his side. But he wasn't looking for her body. He was looking for a way out. Her armor was still unharmed; it seemed that the shadow-sword had struck her through the green Skysworn plate without damaging the metal. He wanted to take it with him, but it was still half-engulfed in Yan Shoumei's Blood Shadow, and Lindon wasn't foolish enough to stick either of his hands anywhere near that. Maybe his Remnant arm could feed on it

like it fed on the bloodspawn, but he wasn't willing to bet his own safety on it. Her hammer was nowhere to be seen, which he regretted even more than the armor. As the weapon of a Truegold from the Cloud Hammer sect, it would have been invaluable. But most importantly… The sapphire she'd been holding behind her back rolled free, darkened with spots of her blood. Lindon snatched it up, stuffing it quickly into his pack. If he had the Eye of the Deep, he could deactivate the portal after leaving. Maybe he could lock these others inside to fight it out amongst themselves. Orthos roared, launching dragon's breath at the gold-scaled girl engaged with Renfei's Remnant, but she ducked to one side of his Striker technique and avoided it with ease. The Cloud Hammer Remnant reared back, preparing to drive a dense fist into the girl's head. A sigh cut across the battle, and the Akura young man opened his eyes again. The shadow returned. "I asked for silence." Flickers of black, like feathers in the night. Renfei's Remnant was split into two clouds, which drifted apart as it began to dissolve into essence. The dragon-girl skidded to a halt, scattering sand into the air. The shadow-blade passed in front of her, leaving a perfect line sliced into the ground. The horned man raised a hand, and a circle of green script flashed into existence in front of him. The edge of shadow cut into it, and the script flickered at the contact before shattering like glass. His shield must have weakened the attack, because he didn't fall into two pieces like Renfei had. Instead, the skin on his hand split open, leaking blood. He stared at the wound with lifeless eyes, as though watching someone else's hand. Yan Shoumei's Blood Shadow cloak was split in half, revealing deep red sacred artist's robes beneath. She hissed and backed away, her Shadow drawing itself together, but she seemed unharmed. An instant of pain flared through Lindon's soul, and Orthos howled. His shell split open, spraying dark blood and ruddy light in equal measure. He staggered back, letting off flares of Blackflame madra out of

sheer panic and instinct. His pain dimmed Lindon's mind, but it also stoked the rage of the Path of Black Flame. Without thinking, Lindon tapped back into his Blackflame core, and the Burning Cloak sprang to life around him. Everything had taken only a few breaths, and the battle was so far above Lindon's level that he had unconsciously shrunk back. But now he had a task he could handle: get Orthos back through the portal. If the rest of them could make it out alive, that would be a victory. It took the strength of his Enforcer technique to restrain Orthos, who was lashing out with blind pain, but Lindon hauled him to a stop and started pushing toward the portal. He glanced back at the Akura man, only to see him lifting his arm again. That gesture was enough to fill Lindon with terror now, but the purple eyes weren't fixed on Lindon. He was looking at the portal. Following his gaze, Lindon noticed with a jolt that the portal was transparent from this side. Bai Rou was holding Mercy back with one armored hand, dragging her away from the portal. He was clearly trying to retreat. A handful of yellow madra droplets blasted out of his other hand, striking at Yerin. Who was darting for the gateway. She slashed back without turning, her white blade casting a storm of invisible swords that shredded Bai Rou's Striker technique. Her eyes were fixed on the portal. Sometimes it felt like it had been a lifetime since he'd left Sacred Valley. Other times, he felt like a child who had just left home. The reality was, he had been outside the Valley for a year and a half. He was overwhelmed by the weight of so much time. Surely it couldn't have been that long. But at the same time, he wasn't sure how he'd crammed so much into such a short time. But through all of it, he'd been with Yerin. By now, he knew her as well as he knew anyone. Seeing her face as she ran, he knew in a split-second what she was thinking. In that moment, he understood her thoughts better than he understood his own. She was coming for him. Whether she had sensed something from the other side or whether she'd heard Renfei's report to Bai Rou, she knew something was wrong. She was headed into the hands of these Truegolds, and she didn't even know it.

But if she did know, she would only run faster. Ever since Lindon had first adopted the Path of Black Flame, he'd lamented how long it took him to gather dragon's breath. Never had every fraction of a second burned him like they did now, as he shoved his hand of flesh in front of him and poured madra into it. Dark fire gathered in his palm, pointed at the portal. Was it faster than the shadow the Akura was calling? He didn't know. He couldn't know without turning, and that would take him precious instants. Yerin kicked off from the stone floor. Lindon scorched his madra channels, pushing power in a loop through his soul with every breath, Blackflame burning his body and his soul as he forced it to move faster. The world darkened. Shadow flickered. And a bar of Blackflame madra tore through the thin, green metal frame of the portal. Instantly, the window into another world winked out. A blade of darkness sliced a smooth gash in the sand where the portal had once been. The sand was bare. No Yerin. Lindon's breath of relief disrupted his cycling technique for a moment. Thick, choking spiritual pressure fell on him like a weighted net, but he still couldn't look back. His Remnant hand didn't pass through living beings like it did through objects, so he pushed Orthos with both hands, struggling against the huge sacred beast's strength. The Akura could cut him down at any time from behind, but he shoved Orthos through the sand. The Burning Cloak worked in bursts of strength, so it was easier to punch or kick than to carry something heavy, so he could only push Orthos a few yards at a time, moving him toward the nearby boulder. He didn't know if it would stand up to the young man's shadow blades, but at least they wouldn't be so close. The pressure faded before Lindon reached the boulder, and he was so surprised that he couldn't resist a glance back. The Akura man had closed his eyes again, returning to his cycling. He had taken the destruction of the portal as nothing. But he was the only one. The other three all stared at the damaged portal frame, their battle forgotten. The Redmoon Hall girl stared out of the veil of her hair and trembled like she was watching her own home burn down. The man with the emerald horns looked from the portal to Lindon and passed a hand over

his face. And the dragon-girl had both clawed hands in front of her mouth, eyes wide. Then she and Yan Shoumei turned to Lindon. Rage of red and fury of gold pushed against his spiritual senses. Black-and-red haze flared around Lindon as he heaved Orthos with all his strength, sliding the turtle behind the boulder. Orthos' struggles had gotten weaker and weaker, and Lindon could feel his consciousness fading. It sent a spike of alarm through Lindon—he hoped this was just exhaustion caused by exertion and injuries, but it felt like a slide into death. Hunkered down behind the boulder, Lindon felt the flares of madra recede. It seemed they were trying to keep all disturbances to a minimum to avoid waking the cycling Akura again. Which gave him a window to find a way out. Suppressing his dread and alarm, he scanned the darkness of the water around him. He was only steps away from the bubble that separated him from the cold, black water all around them. However the fight among the Truegolds fell out, it wouldn't bode well for Lindon. He needed somewhere to escape. He'd closed the portal, and that fact hung over him like a sword suspended by a string: he had destroyed his only way home. But he shoved that panicked thought to the back of his head for later. There had to be another way home, and now that he had the Eye of the Deep, he held the key to the entire Ghostwater facility. If there was a way, he'd find it. He just needed to get out of here now. He scanned the black water along the ocean floor, looking for other spots of light. A gold sun rose behind him, and his Enforced jump sent sand spraying behind him. His Burning Cloak surged, his madra channels still shrieking in protest after he'd abused them to force out the dragon's breath. Lindon twisted in midair, bringing his white arm up in front of him as a shield. The golden dragon-girl stood before him, necklaces hanging against her golden chest, her silks shimmering in many colors. She held out a claw. "The sapphire, the pack on your back, and anything you have in your pockets. You have no idea how expensive it will be to return home without that doorway."

So there was a way out, and these Truegolds knew it. Lindon tucked that fact away. "If you compensate me for my expense and give me something that is worth more than your life, I may leave you unharmed." She was keeping her voice low, shooting frequent glances at the spot where the black-haired man meditated. Lindon ducked his head toward her, raising his hands and letting the Path of Black Flame fade from his spirit. The Blackflame urged him to fight her for dominance, but he shoved it down and drew from his pure core instead. He needed a clear head. Orthos growled and stumbled next to him, but fell to his belly. His eyes fluttered shut. "Please, forgive this one for his rudeness," Lindon said, sliding his pack off one shoulder. "This one believes he has something that may please you, but please spare the lives of this unworthy one and his companion." The ridge of scales she had in place of eyebrows raised, and she said nothing, allowing him to continue. Lindon reached into his pack, pulling out the biggest box he'd brought with him on this trip. The case of the Thousand-Mile Cloud the Skysworn had lent him. Before he could open the box, Orthos' eyes snapped open and his spirit seethed with the same insane anger that had possessed him when Lindon had first met him. Lindon stared at him, shocked, as Orthos rose to his feet with the Burning Cloak flaring around his shell. Lindon's was a pear-shaped aura around his body, but Orthos' shell rose as high as a horse's back and he was almost as wide as he was tall. He looked like he was surrounded by a black sun. Even in the grip of his temper, he only growled and didn't roar as he had before. Lindon couldn't tell if that was because he was still partially in control of himself or if he simply didn't have much energy. The dragon-girl bared her fangs and gathered lines of liquid gold madra in both hands. "Black dragons," she said quietly, snapping one hand forward. "Little better than dogs." A whip of madra unfurled from that fist, cracking in front of Orthos' head. Though the attack flashed like lightning, it made only as much sound as a man snapping his fingers. Orthos didn't flinch, ducking to the side and then extending his neck to snap at her arm.

Lindon wasn't there to watch a fight. As soon as Orthos rushed forward, he cast the Thousand-Mile Cloud's box aside and let the dense, grasscolored cloud unfold in front of him. He clambered onto it, merging his madra with the construct and urging it forward. Into the water. There was a glimmer of yellow light in the distance. It could have been a reflection from this bubble, and Lindon would have preferred to find one that was clearer and closer, but he wasn't quite spoiled for choice. As he reached the bubble, he carefully reduced his speed and ran his fingers through the water. They pierced the bubble easily. As he'd hoped, this bubble was created by a massive script-circle that manipulated aura into holding the water at bay. He should pass through without obstruction. "Orthos!" Lindon turned behind him to shout, hoping the sacred beast had enough mind left to hear him. He saw a line of gold descending on him like a curved blade. Lindon twisted at the last second, taking the madra whip on his pack. The attack caught him over the ear and on the hip, burning like a heated brand, but the pain wasn't the worst of it. The worst was the lurching sensation he felt when the cloud vanished from beneath him. The Thousand-Mile Cloud, given to him by the Skysworn so he could follow them on assignments, dissipated into green wisps of mist as the whip struck the construct's core. A shattered ball covered in script fell to the ground, singed. The rest of the construct faded into essence of cloud madra. A split second later, Lindon hit the sand too. He rolled, ignoring the pain, trying to put some distance between himself and his attacker. After rolling a few yards, he noticed he was leaving a trail behind; his pack had been torn apart. Burned, torn cloth that had once been part of his spare clothes. Fragmented scripts, broken stones. His heart caught in his throat as he saw water and broken trees spilling onto the ground between two cracked halves of a transparent case. Little Blue's tank. He dove for the twin halves of the case. A quick glance showed him that Orthos was keeping the golden dragongirl busy, but he couldn't tell what the other two were up to. Apparently their silent truce remained. The first half of the case was empty. Nothing but mud and sand left after it had fallen from his shredded pack. He dumped it out, just to be sure, but

there was no sign of the Sylvan Riverseed. And nothing but garbage in the second half. Lindon's eyes moved from one to the other as flashes of gold and red played over the glass. Like a rising tide of heat, Blackflame crept into his veins. His strained channels ached, but he pulled more. Before the rage of the Path of Black Flame took over, he gathered himself and released his spiritual perception. A sensation from behind him, like a fresh breeze, released his tension. With a breath, he let Blackflame go, and leaned to see behind a tiny mound of sand. Little Blue huddled behind it, clutching her hands on her head as though trying to shut out sounds. She looked like a woman made of deep blue madra, only a little taller than his hand, in a flowing dress that was really part of her body. Lindon extended his hand to her, and she turned to him with wide eyes that seemed to be filling up with tears. Lindon was fairly certain the spirit couldn't cry, but her gaze trembled. She ran to him with arms outstretched, chiming like a bell, and clambered up his arm. Each footstep was an icecold pinch of static, and each was a reminder that she was still alive. A wave of sand sprayed into the air as Orthos crashed down next to him. His spirit was dwindling as he ran out of madra, and his consciousness was starting to fade again—it almost felt like he was sleepwalking, but the turtle shook himself and flipped over from his shell, growling at the golden dragon-girl. Holding Little Blue to his shoulder, Lindon dashed over to the box he'd discarded from the Thousand-Mile Cloud. He started shoving everything that had survived into it: the leather roll that contained his Soulsmith tools, the polished wooden case holding his badge collection, the notes on hunger madra, and his Heart of Twin Stars manual. He was especially relieved when he found that in one piece. The Eye of the Deep went inside too, but it must have taken a hit from the woman's whip. The jewel had a single long crack down one side, whiteand-purple dream madra drifting out in wisps of mist. If the physical vessel burst, the construct inside would dissipate. Lindon couldn't worry about that now; he just had to hope it lasted long enough. Lindon slammed the lid shut with his left hand and tried to fasten it shut with his right, but the Remnant arm passed through the latch like a ghost.

Hurriedly, he used his left hand to seal the box. This would be big enough to hold all his surviving tools, but more importantly, it was waterproof. He rushed past Orthos, seizing the turtle by the tail. Orthos dragged him forward for a moment, ready to run at his opponent, but eventually noticed the human clinging to him. Lindon pointed to the light in the water and shouted, "Run!" Then he ran through the bubble. Black, icy water swallowed him.

Chapter 3 Yerin passed through the jade doorway sword-first. And out the other side. She stumbled into the underbrush and whirled, looking back to see Mercy and Bai Rou on the beach behind her. Bai Rou held Mercy against the sand with one arm, the other extended toward Yerin, yellow madra swirling around his gauntlet. His eyes glowed the same color from within the shade of his hat. "Return, recruit." Yerin stared at the door. She walked through it again, sweeping it with her perception. The portal was gone. Lindon was inside. Cycling her spirit, she pushed all the madra she could into the script. The runes around the frame flared silver, then tinted a shimmering bluegreen before dying out. The door stayed empty. She stared at the artifact, trying to think, but her brain was stuck in the mud. Renfei's message to Bai Rou had played loud enough for them all, and the phrase "multiple enemies" was all she needed to hear. But the Skysworn had held her back from passing through the portal. He had stopped her. Endless Sword madra flowed through her. Her white blade was in her hand. Bai Rou's fist tightened, and his madra broke into a rain of droplets that came at her sideways, like rain blown by a gust of wind. She'd faced his power before; it ate through the mind as it did flesh. The Path of the Amber Well, Renfei had called it. It would be as useful for questioning as it would for restraining targets. One drop on her skin, and she couldn't be sure she'd be able to keep her

sword in her hand. He'd tried this technique on her only a moment ago, to stop her from going through the door. If he hadn't, maybe she'd have made it. She could have dispersed the technique with sword aura using the Endless Sword technique, but she compressed silver madra in the edges of her blade instead. Yerin chopped her sword down, unleashing the Rippling Sword Striker technique. The slash unleashed a surge of silver light, a crescent storm of sword madra and aura that rushed at Bai Rou, tearing through his technique and sending sand spraying to either side as it blasted toward him. He was a stage more advanced than she was; his techniques should trample hers rather than the other way around. But how could a spray of rain stand up to a full sword-slash? Bai Rou raised his forearm and the technique slammed into his armor, breaking like a wave on a rock. It took a chunk out of his hat, sending straw drifting on the wind. He'd gathered his madra together for another technique, but Yerin had known she couldn't break through that green armor so easily. She rushed in, closing the gap. The Path of the Endless Sword didn't have much of a full-body Enforcer technique, but her Steelborn Iron body took care of that. It drew madra from her and she dashed forward with speed equal to Lindon in his Burning Cloak. And she showed Bai Rou the Enforcer technique she did have. Her blade shone silver with the power of the Flowing Sword. The technique gathered both aura and madra, growing more and more powerful as the battle continued. Eventually, she would hit hard enough to break this Truegold's armor. It would be a struggle to hold it for so long without losing control of the technique, but she was angry enough to try. The shining blade descended on him like the judgment of the heavens, and he had to take it on his raised arm once again. His other was occupied with a struggling Mercy. This time, the blow slammed him into the ground. Her next strike sent a chip of green metal spinning into the air. Her third cracked one of his vambraces.

She was screaming by the time he released Mercy to use both hands. She could let him off for dropping her off the city and leaving her for dead. In a way, that had been merciful; he could have killed her himself while she was helpless under the control of her Blood Shadow. She could let him off for his threats, for the way he treated them like enemies, for his neverending reminders that he would kill them at the first sign of defiance. But he had held her back from saving Lindon. That was too far. Yellow madra gathered around his hands, and with an instant of freedom, he'd turn the tables on her with his superior strength. She didn't give him that instant. She reversed her last slash, slamming her sword up into his chest. He flew back so fast that he tore into the surf, sending up a plume of water. She stuck to him like a leech, sprinting after him, leaving Mercy behind. Her shining blade hit him again before he righted himself, knocking him into the water, and a Rippling Sword followed him into the ocean, slicing through the waves. She began sinking herself, but she didn't let up with the Striker techniques. She hit him with two, then three, before the water swallowed her. With the strength of her Steelborn Iron body, she hauled herself through the water, but she saw only clouds of sand and murky water. Her spiritual perception caught his general direction: he felt like a liquefied nightmare. She swam toward him. The water around her lifted, like someone had scooped her up in a giant, invisible bowl. She felt herself, and the chunk of ocean around her, rising into the air. She lunged forward, but the water shifted so she went nowhere, tumbling in a chaotic storm of bubbles and dust. She sent her perception out, trying to sense what was happening even as she strained her eyes to catch a glimpse through the rolling ball of water. It was only when the dust settled that she got the full picture. Bai Rou had used a Ruler technique to command the water. The aura lifted a globe of the sea with her trapped inside. He stood on the surface of the ocean beneath her, reaching down to pull his soaking hat from the surf. His yellow glare cut through the water, and his spirit released its full power like a crashing tide. He had to use half his madra to hold this Ruler

technique in place, but the rest of his spirit was focusing itself in his palm. In only a breath of time, he'd either spear her like a fish or fill this water with his madra and dissolve her. Maybe both. But his rage couldn't compare to hers. Which made her drop her guard. Yerin's relationship to her unwelcome guest had changed in the last week. It was free now, but she'd shown it whose sword was sharper. It was quieter, but she couldn't shake the thought that it was smarter now too. It had been a caged wolf before, and now it was a lurking killer, biding its time. And now it slipped its collar. The Shadow boiled out of her, a mass of blood madra that stretched out of her back and formed into a copy of her swimming by her side. The Blood Shadow wasn't an exact reflection; it looked almost like a Remnant version of her, built of all sharp, jagged angles and covered in red paint. Two thin arms stretched from its shoulders and flattened into blades, matching her own silver Goldsigns. It carried no sword, but its fingertips sharpened into points. She tried to restrain it, but it had already passed her control. At this second, they wanted the same thing. The Shadow melted, oozing out of the water globe and falling toward Bai Rou. It didn't care much for anything that would hold a regular body back. Madra would have stopped it, but normal water did about as much good as a screen umbrella. Bai Rou pushed his technique toward the Shadow, and this was more than just a fistful of rain. It was a stream of Amberwell madra that coiled like a dragon, diving at the blood spirit. It cut right through the Blood Shadow's left arm, which sent a spike of pain through the parasite. Yerin could feel it, but she wouldn't say it hurt her. It was more like hearing about someone else losing an arm. The Blood Shadow took the injury as the cost of doing business, turning its fall into a lunge without a care. The blades on its shoulders struck like a pair of scorpion stings, carrying Striker techniques with them. Its Rippling Swords were stained red, carrying as much power from blood as from the sword. She hadn't known it could do that.

Any other time, she would have been disgusted and horrified to see her Path of the Endless Sword techniques used by this creature, but now...now she just wanted Bai Rou to hurt. He slipped to the side, feet sliding across the waves as though he stood on slick stone, dodging the first at the same time as a burst of yellow madra dispersed the second. Her Blood Shadow landed on him. It clung to him like a monkey to a tree, driving its clawed hands and its Goldsigns into his body. He twisted his head, pushing blades aside so he took everything on his armor. But Skysworn armor was famous for a reason. Green light flared within the plates, and a pulse of emerald wind madra blasted out from him, shoving everything away. The Shadow was thrown backwards, splashing into the ocean. But he'd tried to split his concentration too many ways. His Ruler technique fell apart. Yerin dropped as the water around her rained back down. Cycling underwater was like trying to push gravel through your channels, so she hadn't bothered using any other techniques while she couldn't breathe. Her lungs were on fire, but that wasn't even close to the top of her mind. And she'd never released her Flowing Sword. The blade shone like a silver star in her hand, a bonfire of madra and aura. It carried power like a Truegold's weapon, and she was about to see how it stacked up against his armor. She angled herself to fall next to him, raising her sword for a strike. He was just turning away from the Blood Shadow, his perception sweeping through her spirit with a shiver. She gave a cheer in her heart; he was too late. She had him. Then a black spear pierced her through the chest. She'd set her eyes on Bai Rou, so she had no warning until she felt the hot pain beneath her collar. A black point, thin as a finger, stretched from her robes. Her lungs seized up. Her spirit fought against the dark madra passing through her, which was a contest her spirit easily won. The black branch dissolved within a second, but it had enough to disrupt her techniques. The power blew away from her sword like dust on the wind, and she splashed into the sea.

The pain vanished when the madra did, and she touched her skin with her fingertips. No wound. It didn't even feel bruised. Her fury surged again, and she twisted in the water, pushing madra back into her sword. Her core was all but empty, with only scraps left, but she'd go at Bai Rou with her teeth if she had to. A black tendril, like a burnt tree root, wrapped around her. She slashed it away, but three more replaced it, cradling her and hauling her back through the waves. She struggled, but she wasn't far from shore. The branches pulled her back to shore, and she rolled onto her feet, pushing her way free. Mercy stood there panting, covered in sand, her ponytail undone. The dark madra extended from her oil-gloved hand. She had taken his side. Yerin cycled the last of her madra through her weapon, preparing the Endless Sword, but Mercy released her own technique and collapsed back onto the sand, panting. "That's…harder than…it looks," she said through labored breaths. The Blood Shadow faded to red light, which streamed out of the ocean and into Yerin's back. It slid into her spirit, coiling around her core weakened and unsatisfied. Yerin felt about the same. She paced to the side, keeping her sword on Mercy and her perception locked on Bai Rou. He hadn't moved. Why? Mercy's staff lay next to her, the eyes of its dragon-head glowing violet, but she didn't reach for it. "We can't fight each other," she said quietly. Yerin gave a weak, angry laugh. She reversed her sword, plunging it into the beach an inch from Mercy, but the Akura girl didn't flinch. "We? You've buried me." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "You think he'll let me walk away now? That's my one chance gone." Yerin stood over Mercy, rage and the frustration of failure boiling inside her. Mercy held up her hands, showing them empty. "I thought we should be more worried about them." She pointed both hands up at the sky. Since the portal vanished, Yerin had kept her spirit locked on Bai Rou. Now, she finally noticed the rest of the world. A golden cloud hovered only a hundred feet over them: a ThousandMile Cloud big enough to hold several houses. How had they not seen that when they arrived? How had they not felt the ones riding it? In her spirit, they shone like burning lamp-oil. One of those questions was answered as another veil dropped on another side of the island. Its presence felt wild, savage, eager for battle. A thousand

beasts roared along with the rising power, shaking the forest. Winged creatures took to the sky in a cloud. But she could understand veils. She didn't understand how the air could part only a few yards from her, revealing a towering black castle that stretched from the beach into the forest. It cast its shadow over her and Mercy both. It looked like it had been dropped from the sky, with halfcrushed trees emerging from its foundation, but she didn't hear the crunch. Had they been like that all this time, and her eyes had been tricked? The whole palace was surrounded by a smooth rectangular outer wall, its only visible opening a pair of tall, spiked gates. From behind those gates, Yerin sensed darkness, fear, and endless despair. Veils continued to drop all around the forest, so powerful that she was sure some of these forces had to contain Underlords at least. From the far shore, she felt a familiar feeling of nauseating slaughter: a Blood Shadow. Maybe more than one. Powerless, Yerin dropped to the sand next to Mercy. They had never been alone on this island. They were surrounded. ~~~ The instant the portal was destroyed, Yan Shoumei was overcome with anger. Her Blood Shadow picked up on her agitation and started to flow toward the Lowgold. It wasn't just her agitation. Something about his thin, white replacement arm stoked her Shadow's appetite, which was a complication she didn't need. She remembered herself just in time and pulled it back. Ziel, the horned boy from the Wasteland, was nearby, and she knew him by reputation. He was known to wait on the sidelines for an advantage. The second she struck at the Lowgold, he would take advantage of her distraction and hit her while she was distracted. There was no love lost between Redmoon Hall and the sacred artists of the Wasteland. Especially not now, after the Dreadgod's rampage. Instead, keeping an eye on Ziel, she drew her Shadow back into a cloak around herself and began backing away. Contrary to her expectations, he wasn't looking at her at all. He was staring at the broken portal frame with a dead look on his face.

Maybe he didn't have a gatestone. Shoumei had no doubt that the gold dragon and the Akura did, so if Ziel did not, he might end up as the only one trapped here in this pocket world. If so, she might owe that Lowgold thanks. ...though her anger returned when she thought of having to crack her gatestone. Each of those represented days of work from a Sage or better; they were not handed out frivolously. It was meant to save her life from a situation of certain death. Breaking it to replace what should have been a free trip home was frustrating at best. She backed up until she felt the cool air coming off the wall of water behind her. Ziel was staring at the portal, either lost in despair or in contact with his master. Harmony was cycling still, and thank the heavens for that. He even made her Blood Shadow shiver. Ekerinatoth and the turtle were engaged in battle, while the Lowgold scrambled around to recover something in the sand. According to the truce, none of them were allowed to leave this habitat until all six faction representatives arrived. They were still waiting on the young prince of the Tidewalker sect and the delegate from the Ninecloud Court. However, without the portal, there was no point in waiting. The treaty had been decided by the higher-ups in each faction, so Shoumei should never violate it on purely her own judgment, but... She slipped into the dark water. The Sage of Red Faith would applaud her decision. Even if some supervising Heralds could sense what was happening here, they wouldn't blame her when she wasn't the one to break the pact. No one followed her, or even noticed her leave.