by Will Wight
Her face was on the level of Lindon's chest, and she looked up at him, standing over her. The heat from his body filled the space, and the quiet aura radiating from his spirit was stronger than it had ever been.
He looked down, eyes intense, and her heartbeat picked up. He was the same old Lindon, but the strength in his soul made him feel older, more reliable, and somehow new, like she had taken her eyes off him for a second and he had grown up. And he was so close.
Lindon stretched his hand out, reaching for her face. She stared at the hand approaching, thoughts whirling in place. Her heart hammered harder.
But his hand moved past her, reaching the side of the wall. She turned her eyes to follow him.
A door opened in midair.
She let out a heavy breath as the space appeared, her face suddenly hotter than before. She was both relieved and somehow disappointed, but she didn’t examine either emotion too closely. She shoved them to the back of her mind, where she determined to forget them.
Instead, she focused on the most shocking aspect of this whole situation: “Where in heaven’s name did you get a void key?”
It was like looking into a closet that hadn’t been there before. A closet containing Lindon’s belongings; she recognized the box he’d once kept his Thousand-Mile Cloud in, but most of the rest of it was new to her. The space was packed with jars, bottles, and vials of all shapes and sizes, though they looked like he’d scavenged them from a trash heap. Little Blue stared at her from within a bundle of firewood, and there was a bone-handled axe leaning up against the wall.
Lindon hurriedly held up a hand, keeping his voice low. “The script doesn’t stop sound. Could you grab that closest jar for me?”
Close to the opening, beside Yerin’s feet, was a clay jar covered in hastily painted scripts that looked similar to the one Lindon had carved into the door. She bent down and scooped it up, and then the portal instantly vanished.
Without instructions, Yerin pulled the lid off of the jar, and Lindon didn’t say anything to stop her. Blue light rushed out from within, and she sensed the rich power of a high-grade elixir.
Her eyes widened, and she dipped a finger in, pressing a drop to her tongue.
It tasted like sweet spring water, but the energy within was enough to shock her spirit into action. It nourished her soul directly, her madra rushing through its channels.
“I don’t know what Naru Gwei would do if he sensed this,” Lindon said. “And Mercy…well, I don’t know her too well yet.”
“This…” she wasn’t sure she had the words. “This is like something my master would drink. With a sword to my throat, I couldn’t even guess how much this is worth.”
It took her another second to remember that she’d seen more bottles inside the void key.
Lindon’s eyes sparkled at her reaction, but he pretended to be casual. “It’s yours. As far as I’m concerned, you can drink everything I brought out. I had much more than this in Ghostwater.”
Yerin pushed the jar back at him. “I’m not too polite to take a gift, but this is brainless. You’ve got two cores to fill, and one of them is still Highgold.”
“That’s why you should have it. If you got the same chances I did, you’d be Underlord by now.”
A second later, he cleared his throat and added, “Besides, I doubt you’ll need all of it. Once you reach the peak of Truegold, I can still drink whatever’s left.”
Yerin slowly replaced the lid, unwilling to meet his eyes. She was ashamed of the tracks her thoughts had taken before he’d shown up; only a few weeks by herself, and she started thinking like she was alone again.
“Will it not work for you?” he asked anxiously. “I thought it would, but I couldn’t be sure. Did the Sword Sage give you something better?”
Yerin ran a hand over her face as though to check what expression she was making. “No, sorry, my brain had run off without me. Had to pull it back.” She slipped the jar into her outer robe—it was a little big for her pocket, so it would bulge out, but it wouldn’t be a problem as long as she didn’t fight. “You know I’ll put it to good use.”
His face relaxed into a smile. “Good! I was—well, never mind, that’s good! Don’t get too comfortable, though. I won’t let you get too far ahead of me.”
“I know you won’t,” she said.
And to herself, she added, I won’t let you.
Chapter 3
In his Imperial palace at the heart of Blackflame City, the capital of the Empire, Emperor Naru Huan stood in a courtyard looking into the sky. He wore his full Imperial regalia, from the intricate crown on his head to the dragon-adorned layered robes that hung from his shoulders. Emerald wings spread behind him, shimmering in the setting sun.
An Emperor’s appearance was important. He exercised daily to keep his body firm and toned—a straight back and broad shoulders showed strength. His beard was neatly trimmed and close to his chin, and his gaze was level and piercing. He had been trained for most of his life to project strength in everything he did.
To his left, his first wife was radiant in robes that complemented his own. The smile on her face looked effortless and natural, but the way that she repeatedly lifted her hand to adjust her hairpin revealed her nerves. He wished he could calm her, but he was in need of some comfort himself.
Two Skysworn in full green armor stood behind them, spears at the ready, Truegold souls unveiled. Today, they were nothing more than marks of his status. He was the strongest sacred artist in this quarter of the continent, but his visitor could obliterate them all as easily as lifting her hand.
Behind the Skysworn were his contingent of four normal guards, all Truegolds themselves, as well as forty ministers, councilors, and advisers. Servants stood to the sides, carrying pitchers of wine or trays of food in case they were called upon.
Their half of the courtyard was packed, but no one crossed the invisible line separating the other half. That was reserved for their visitor.
No one wanted to accidentally offend the Sage of the Silver Heart.
She had sent word to await her, but she had not said whether she meant to come in person or not. Therefore, he had no choice but to prepare as though Akura Charity could herself appear out of thin air at any second.
As far as he understood the powers of a Sage, she might well be able to do as much. She was an Archlady, at the peak of the Lord realm, but most Archlords never earned a Sage’s title. There was something special about Sages, but only rumors and legends could tell him what that was. He’d never had a Sage to consult.
The sun sank down to the level of the roof surrounding them, and the general level of chatter in the courtyard faded with the light. She said she would deliver her message at the first touch of night, and the closer that approached, the greater the tension in the air grew. Some of the people behind him even trembled in their spirits, and he wanted to turn and command them to master themselves or leave. But it would be beneath him to lower himself to that level.
Shadows lengthened, and the sun disappeared.
As soon as it did, another light replaced it. An ethereal, flickering violet light.
The murmurs in the courtyard died out entirely.
The source of that light came into view only an instant later, as four horse-Remnants galloped side-by-side through the air, their steps like drumbeats. They were made of layered violet light, and flames of the same shade flickered around their ankles. They bared teeth and rolled their eyes as they ran, which was as much detail as he had ever seen on Remnants.
Through his spiritual sense, he felt the hidden heat of banked coals and the cool of a summer shadow. The Akura clan were famous for their use of shadow madra—it was not a distasteful power, like death or blood, but an aspect of madra as natural as wind. Even so, it had mysterious properties that were difficult to pin down. That made dealing with any shadow artist a trial. Dealing with the Akura even more so.
After first glance, it became clear that the horses were harne
ssed together. They pulled a black carriage behind them, wrought of iron and floating on a deep purple cloud. The Remnants slowed slightly, trotted down the air as though on a slope, and slid to a halt in the courtyard in front of the Emperor.
The black door of the carriage was marked with the symbol of the Akura family in silver: one great star flanked by two smaller stars, all rising over a mountain range. When he saw that, he inclined his head.
Everyone besides him bowed at the waist.
They held that pose for one long moment before the door swung open and a woman stepped out.
She was a slender, young-looking woman with black hair carefully bound behind her. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said she was only twenty, but her deep purple eyes carried the weight of ages. She was dressed as befit her station, in ornate wide-sleeved robes of black decorated with purple lines that glowed softly in the shadows. The lines evoked stars and moons, but also reminded him of a script-circle.
An owl stood on her shoulder. An owl made of feathery silver light, connected by ribbons and sparks of purple.
Charity had her spirit veiled, so the pressure of her presence did not weigh on the souls of everyone nearby. Even so, she still radiated an unquestionable dignity. All else stilled before her, and even his trembling Blackflame attendants quieted, as though she carried with her the calm of a peaceful night.
“Naru Huan, Emperor of the Blackflame Empire, I send you greetings on behalf of my family,” she said. Her voice was smooth and young, but she spoke with the confidence of an empress. “I, Akura Charity, Sage of the Silver Heart, speak with full authority for my grandmother and in the interests of the Akura clan all across the world. Heed me now, as this is the greatest service you have ever been required to perform.”
The Emperor was not sure if he was expected to respond, but he bowed slightly anyway. “The Blackflame Empire is eager to know how we may serve the Akura clan. If there is any hospitality we can provide, please do not hesitate to say so.”
His servants stepped forward slightly, but the Sage ignored them. She met his gaze with her purple eyes. She gave no signal that he could see or sense, but the door of the carriage behind her slammed shut. The Remnant horses whinnied—it sounded like they were doing so from underwater—and took off, trotting into the air once more.
When they were gone, the Sage continued.
“When they feel the time is right, the great Monarch clans hold a tournament for their students, measuring their star disciples against one another to demonstrate their strength. It is in this way that those of the young generation can test themselves and grow against equal opponents.
“This contest is known as the Uncrowned King Tournament.”
It was with no surprise whatsoever that Naru Huan thought, Eithan was right.
This was not news to Naru Huan, but it had never concerned the Blackflame Empire before. Their disciples were unworthy to compete at such a level. Had he not been warned by the Arelius Underlord, this sudden requirement would have caught him off-guard.
“This year’s tournament,” Akura Charity continued, “will be the largest in history.”
She paused, hands folded in front of her, as though she could sense his questions.
Naru Huan was unaccustomed to speaking humbly, but this was the time to show deference. “Forgive our ignorance, but affairs that concern Monarchs are far beyond us. If the Sage could enlighten us: what is so different this year?”
The owl of silver and purple madra spread its wings, and the slightest shiver passed through Naru Huan’s spirit. If it weren’t for his abundant experience, he would have thought he’d imagined the sensation.
“You have guessed correctly,” Charity said. “Old powers stir. No one will remain untouched. Now, more than ever, we must make the balance of power clear, and raise up defenders from a new generation.”
The Dreadgods. He had suspected as much, but it was disturbing to hear his fears confirmed.
“Therefore, our Akura clan will be inviting our vassal states to participate in the Uncrowned King Tournament as well. The coming years will challenge not only our head family, but all our subjects. So they all must be tested.”
Thus far, Naru Huan had learned very little new information. Eithan had made his predictions, and Naru Huan could infer some facts of his own. However, it had all been theoretical until this moment.
Now, he faced a very real problem.
“If we may ask, what stage must our disciples have reached in order to compete?”
“The tournament does not permit anyone above or below Underlord,” Charity said, “though advancements during competition are allowed. All competitors must be younger than thirty-five, and the younger your participant, the more favorably they will be viewed.”
As he’d expected. It would be hard enough for him to produce a handful of Truegolds under thirty-five, much less Underlords.
“We would give our lives to avoid disappointing the Sage, but we may not be able to live up to her expectations. For us, producing young Underlords is…”
Purple eyes swept over the crowd gathered around the Emperor. Most of them, including Naru Huan himself, were beyond the required age. And no one but him met the power requirements. He thought he saw a glimpse of pity in her gaze, and she let out a short breath.
“I am aware of your situation. For that reason, I will open to you the Night Wheel Valley, one of the sacred training grounds of the Akura clan. You should be grateful; this is where we often train Akura Golds.”
He was grateful, to the point that he had to fight to keep his expression dignified. His wife grabbed his elbow, fingers tightening, and gave a slight gasp. Depending on how many people he was allowed to send, this could be a huge opportunity for the entire Empire, not just the young Truegolds with the potential to break through to Underlord.
He opened his mouth to express profuse thanks, but she held up a pale hand to stop him. The owl on her shoulder let out a low whistle. “Of course, I have not given this opportunity to you alone.”
His smile turned bitter.
“I will open the way for the Seishen Kingdom as well. As the two weakest vassal states under our protection, you will compete with each other for the valley’s bounty. By the time summer comes, I will select the three young Lords and Ladies that will serve us in this tournament. I could choose all three from one kingdom, or the best from both. You will be richly rewarded for every young Underlord that I appoint, though if I cannot find even three worthy between you, you will all be…”
Her eyes flashed, and she let her veil slip enough to add spiritual weight to the next word. “…instructed.”
Naru Huan’s thoughts turned cold. After the devastation of the Bleeding Phoenix, the Blackflame Empire was hanging together by a thread. The Jai clan had fallen, and the Arelius family had yet to rise to their place, so the west was fractured and lawless. The attacks from the Trackless Sea up north had intensified, the wall that defended them broken by the Dreadgod’s rampage. To the east, the Wastelanders were having a difficult time holding back the dragons, and beyond the southern jungles, the Seishen Kingdom eyed his lands.
The Empire his mother had saved from the Blackflame family was now webbed with cracks. One firm tap could send it all crumbling to pieces. Over a hundred million people would divide into a thousand splinter kingdoms, all at war with one another.
The offered reward didn’t matter to him, although anything that came straight from the Akura family would surely be dazzling. No, the Empire needed stability. Training in the Night Wheel Valley would help him with that, as it would strengthen the sacred artists loyal to him. And competing on the world stage would allow him to make connections he could never have dreamed of otherwise.
His homeland would die or thrive based on the Akura family’s favor.
“We will not fail you,” he swore. He had no ill will toward his southern neighbor, the Seishen Kingdom, but he would crush them if he had to. Anything to distinguish his Emp
ire to the clan that ruled them all.
The Sage’s owl took off from her shoulder, swirling over the heads of the crowd around the Emperor. He could feel them trying not to shiver. “One final note: I will be monitoring you to make sure that your competition with the Kingdom does not get too far out of hand. Conduct yourselves like honorable sacred artists with the reputation of the Akura clan behind you. However, the Night Wheel Valley will undoubtedly be dangerous. Only sacred artists willing to risk their safety should be allowed inside.”
The owl settled onto the head of a nearby servant, who looked like she would pass out. Akura Charity reached out a hand, and that servant scurried to present a tray full of drinks to her. She selected a shallow bowl, allowed the servant to fill it with dark wine, but she did not drink.
She looked down, staring deeply into the surface of the wine as she spoke. “That concludes our business on behalf of my family.”
Naru Huan was not fooled into thinking this meeting was over. She wanted something else, and was making it clear that she didn’t represent her family in doing so.
“I have kept my eye on someone from your Empire,” she continued. “A young Blackflame, contracted to a sacred turtle.”
Naru Huan remembered descriptions of Eithan’s disciple. “There is no true member of the Blackflame family remaining,” he hedged. He couldn’t lie to a Sage, but he wanted to know more about her interest in the boy before he gave her the answer she sought. The more he knew, the more advantage he might be able to squeeze out of the situation.
The Sage continued examining the wine. She did not increase the power of her soul.
But the rest of the world turned black.
It was as though only Naru Huan and Akura Charity existed, and everything else was swallowed by a sea of endless black. Behind the Sage’s head, an apparition loomed up, like the sudden appearance of a Remnant; it was a huge book, wrought of silver and purple light, with a shining Remnant eye in its center.
The eye swiveled, locking onto Naru Huan, and he began to sweat.
