No one else seemed interested in killing Aven for the moment. In that final sort of peace, he wandered into the barracks, which had been cleared out and turned to a makeshift infirmary. Guards and prisoners alike were in the beds, with the legionary healers attending them equally. Rani was there in a bed at the far end. The old prisoner hadn’t woken up, her head wrapped in bandages, but she was still breathing. Astonishing how fragile she looked when not cackling and waving either hammer or knife around in a way that made it clear any accidental injuries to bystanders were cause for celebration rather than regret.

  Janaya, on the other hand, was already awake. The new burn scars were already healing, though the old ones on her right side remained. The explosion made quite a mess of her, half her hair burned off and one eye covered in bandages.

  Aven whistled at the sight, “Is there anything that can kill you?”

  “I don’t know,” Janaya replied, voice far subdued compared to her theatrical rants. Even now, hellfire lapped at the wounds, searing them shut. “Haven’t found it yet.”

  “She’s...remarkable,” the nearest healer, a minari from the village a couple inches taller than Tanya (though about half the width) said. “I’ve heard of children afflicted with the curse of vitality before. Their wounds heal themselves so aggressively their body develops unnatural growths that do more harm than healing. They usually die before the age of ten. Her, though...the hellfire seems to burn away any excess flesh and restore only the healthy portions. She should recover fully, even the vision in her burnt eye, though that part might take a month or so.” She paused, looking down at Janaya with awe. “I’d call it no less than a miracle.”

  Janaya glared, “...you seem a kind soul. Healers do not deserve judgement. But never call it a miracle again to my face.”

  “Noted,” the healer said drily, not appearing threatened in the slightest. “I’ll check in again in a few hours. Try to stay put for once?”

  Janaya huffed but didn’t argue as the minari walked off.

  Aven pulled up a stool and sat down, “So, what now?”

  The replying silent stare just looked confused by the question.

  “I recall you saying something about killing the gods,” Aven said. It was difficult to tell how much of Janaya’s rants were mere drama rather than sincere belief.

  Janaya turned her head to stare at the ceiling. The burnt flesh was healing slowly, skin growing over the charred flesh of the burns. It did not appear a comfortable process. “All the evils of the world exist either by the gods’ will or negligence. My hellfire burns to destroy evil. I must burn the gods.”

  She did believe it, apparently. “Might I suggest a new target for your judgement?”

  Her silent stare wasn’t acceptance, but it also wasn’t discouragement.

  “When I was in the voidpit,” Aven lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear it in the bustling infirmary, “I saw something. Things. Crawling, gnawing, ravenous things from some hell below the void. I felt hatred deeper than anything I’ve every seen. Malice that would make Yvris or Erdrak look kind.”

  The fire in Janaya’s eyes burned brighter as she listened with rapt attention.

  “I don’t know what the voidspawn are,” Aven said, “but I know they’re going to continue to come, and I know that what they represent is greater than any petty mortal affairs. Greater ones are coming. The deathsinger that we fought could have slaughtered dozens. There were greater and more terrible creatures in that abyss. I can’t ignore that.”

  “And you want me to fight those creatures alongside you?” Janaya asked.

  “I do,” Aven said. “Your hellfire destroys things of the void more thoroughly than anything else I’ve seen.” He leaned back, “Of course, I suppose it could all be some illusion of my vanishing mind. My brain was quite literally dissolving the void, after all. I understand it’s an unbelievable tale, but-”

  “I believe you,” Janaya interrupted him.

  “You do?” Aven said.

  She nodded and grimaced as the movement jostled her burns. “In the silence at the bottom of that dungeon, I heard whispers from the voidpit. Whispers that grew louder when you dove into its depths.” Her gaze went to the ceiling again, “The gods may be content with their negligence, but I will not sit idle while those beasts come for the world.”

  Aven smiled, “I’d shake your hand, but that might burn down the entire infirmary.”

  “Best not,” Janaya returned the smile. “You deserve a better death than that.”

  * * *

  Esharah finally withdrew to her room. A small, utilitarian space that had never quite been sanctuary, not when most the hours spent her were ones of torment from the Thorn. Yet now, it was. A place she could be away from other people’s emotions and minds. In that space, she could withdraw from all the minds still buzzing with triumph or mourning or anxiety around Hellfrost.

  As Esharah withdrew, she felt...nothing. Not the pangs of the Thorn, the constant pain and reminder that Yvris had marked her as a tool for him to wield and use and throw aside as he chose. Not the chorus of minds always clamoring around her.

  Silence. Blessed silence, for the first time in two years.

  The future would come calling soon. New fights. New terrors. For now, Esharah wept in the silence.

  * * *

  ~Octarnis Empire, Veriditar Province, 11th of the 4th Moon~

  Priscilla Voleton knocked on the door to her master’s study. Thrice, two rapid raps back to back, then another a second later.

  “Come in,” Lady Elesmara’s echoing responded, transmitted through some magical construct built into the door.

  Priscilla glanced behind her to ensure that no one was watching. The corridor was quiet. Of course it was. This was a part of the campus entirely off limits after hours. Knowledge, unfortunately, did not overcome paranoia. Another glance. The corridor was still empty.

  She slipped inside and descended the stairs, down below the University of Thallakar. Deeper and deeper into a hidden basement where Lady Elesmara had her study and the entrance to her laboratory, a room sealed in cold stone to keep the temperature and light controlled for her experiments.

  Lady Elesmara ars-Arcanis Arvanius-Genthus sat at her desk at the west end of the room. At the east end, her daughter Viola was standing silently and stiffly by a cabinet of labelled bottles. In the center of the room, a young woman was tied down to a chair.

  Lady Elesmara raised her eyes as Priscilla entered, greeting her with a smile, “Ah, hello Priscilla. Just a moment please. We’ll be finished soon.” She wrote another line in the large book spread across her desk.

  Priscilla waited patiently.

  “Viola,” Lady Elesmara spoke without looking up. “Next mixture. One ounce voidblood, one ounce crystallized empyr-essence, six ounces coliarnis tincture. Dilute by one half.”

  Viola nym Genthus followed the orders without reply, gathering the ingredients and mixing them together with mechanical motions. Priscilla watched closely, trying to piece the ingredients together. The voidblood was obvious, the core of all Lady Elesmara’s experiments. Coliarnis was a reagent that could stabilize mixtures of different materials.

  “May I ask why empyr-essence?” Priscilla asked.

  “The empyreans fancy themselves the creatures furthest from the void in nature,” Lady Elesmara replied, finishing her current notes and turning full attention to Priscilla. Her eyes sparked at the opportunity to discuss the details of her research. “Our last experiment used undiluted essence. The results were...a more violent reaction than hoped for. With this, we hope for a more stable potion.” A sharp glance in her daughter’s direction, “Six ounces coliarnis, Viola.”

  The girl paused, then mumbled something that must have been an apology before turning to retrieve more of the tincture.

  “And how have you been?” Lady Elesmara’s tone turned conversational. “Oh! You were attending the New Moon with the blacksmith’s boy, right?” A conspiratorial smile spread across the lady’s face as she leaned forward, “How was he?”

  Priscilla sighed. The lady was famed for her memory. The vain hope that she would have forgotten failed. “Not...well, milady.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Lady Elesmara said, voice filled with genuine sympathy. “Whatever happened? I thought things were going so well.”

  “He made it clear he desired a...more traditional partner,” Priscilla said.

  Lady Elesmara shook head, disappointment and disgust in her tone, “Then he doesn’t deserve you anyway. Stay strong, Priscilla. You’ve no need to settle for someone who won’t respect you.” A self-deprecating smile, “Though I suppose I’m not exactly a sage of love, am I?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Priscilla gave a noncommittal response and tried to put thoughts of failed romance out of her mind.

  The task was made easier when Viola completed the mixture and loaded it into one of the needles. Lady Elesmara’s new design for administering the potions.

  The woman strapped to the chair made only a slight protesting groan, half-delirious from the sedatives as Viola injected the potion into her arm. Progress. Only a month ago, the girl’s hands had trembled so much she’d failed to complete the injection.

  The reaction was not as extreme as some. No explosions or violent thrashing muscles. Just a sudden stiffness, and the woman’s groan turned to a whine.

  Viola took the woman’s wrist and spoke, finally audible though still so quiet Priscilla had to strain to hear. A fifteen second wait, “Heartbeat at one hundred twenty beats per minute.” Fifteen more seconds, “One hundred twenty-eight.” Another fifteen, “One hundred forty.”

  The reports continued to climb.

  Then the woman foamed at the mouth. The seizure turned violent. A strangled grasp left her mouth.

  Before Priscilla or Viola could react, Lady Elesmara sighed, and a hand of the void shot out from behind her. The hand grasped the arm of the bound woman, right where the needle had pierced her skin. Black liquid seeped out of the puncture, vanishing into Lady Elesmara’s voidhand.

  After a long moment, the patient went still, breathing shallow and strained.

  “Monitor her,” Lady Elesmara ordered. “Administer new sedative if necessary.” She scratched a last note in her journal before sighing and turning away, “Apologies for the delay. What did you need, Priscilla?”

  At last to business. Priscilla offered the letter, “A report from Hellfrost.”

  Lady Elesmara frowned, “It’s two weeks early. Did something happen?”

  “I did not read the letter, ma’am,” Priscilla said stiffly, knowing the lady did not mean any offense at the implication that Priscilla might have broken protocol to read the letter. “I only saw that Titan labelled it an emergency.”

  Lady Elesmara took the letter. Her eyes scanned the words, and a small frown touched her face. A frown that turned into a smile. More than amusement. Pride?

  “What happened, milady?” Priscilla asked.

  “To start, Yvris is dead,” Lady Elesmara actually chuckled, somehow finding the loss of one of their agents (granted, one of the outer circle who didn’t even know Lady Elesmara was their leader) in Septentrion amusing. “A prisoner revolt, it seems. Led by my son.”

  A soft gasp came from Viola. Priscilla struggled to process the news.

  “Then...the voidblood shipments?” Priscilla asked.

  “We’ll have to wait and see if they can continue,” Lady Elesmara’s gaze still remained on the letter. “It seems Governor Iraias will have his attention firmly on Hellfrost for the moment.” That prideful smile again, “But Aven has achieved the 2nd circle. As a voidtouched.” A chuckle, “Fifteen years, and at last. My beautiful boy.”

  Priscilla was still stuck on more practical matters than family pride, “Without Yvris, will Titan be enough of a presence?”

  “Oh, of course not,” Lady Elesmara sat the letter down. “Which of our other agents could move to Hellfrost quickly?”

  “Brightpeak is in Frelund, but-”

  “Her task is equally important,” Lady Elesmara said. “Who else?”

  Far more important, Priscilla privately thought. “The next closest would be...Sunshine.”

  Lady Elesmara smiled, mischief in her eyes, “Who?”

  The most insulting part of that eccentric’s idiotic nickname wasn’t that he’d chosen it as a joke. The worst part was that of all people, Lady Elesmara was the only other one to find it funny.

  “Duke Sunshine Clavicus Pigeonshit Markunius III,” Priscilla recited the full chosen name of the Voidseeker’s most obnoxious agent.

  Lady Elesmara, leader of the Voidseekers and most powerful voidtouched in the Empire, giggled. “Well, best send Sunshine over then.” The giggles relaxed into a fond smile, “My dear boy will need friends in the coming days.”

  * * *

  ~Octarnis Empire, Agenthus Province, 6th of the 5th Moon~

  Helena Avarnius-Folis finally crossed off the last item in the ledger. Three months after Gaius Avarnius’ death, the shadow he’d left over the family finally gone. Helena’s pen hovered over the page for a long while. Only when ink dripped down into a blot on the page did she remember to move it back to the inkwell.

  She leaned back and rubbed her eyes. Father had never been the sort for paperwork or bookkeeping. After Mother left, the Avarnius estate had gradually sunk, slowly but inexorably every year deeper into the mire. If Aven hadn’t killed him, Father might have bankrupted the estate within the year.

  Thoughts of her old family gave way to the joy of her new one when she heard a booming laugh and a softer giggle outside the study. Emil burst into the study with Leda in his arms.

  “In the dark again?” Emil stroke over to the shuttered windows and flung them open with his free hand while gently bouncing Leda in the other arm. The light of the mid-morning sun burst in, casting a glare over the ledger.

  “Just finishing up,” Helena said, closing her eyes against the sudden glare.

  Emil’s whiskery kiss on her cheek made her open her eyes again. He held Leda up to her face, but at eight-months old, Leda hadn’t quite mastered social cues yet and instead of kissing chose to grab two tiny fistfuls of Helena’s hair.

  Helena took Leda from Emil - a devilish trick on her husband’s part because she couldn’t possibly focus on bookkeeping with a baby demanding attention.

  “So,” Emil said. “It’s done? All the debts paid off, taxes paid up, investments investmented? You finally get to be a proper Tarnis lady and live in idle indolence with your foolish husband and adorable daughter?”

  “Hardly,” Helena said, pulling the pen away from Leda before she could cram the feathers of the quill into her mouth. “But for the moment...all of Father’s debts are repaid. That shadow, we can leave behind us.”

  Of all the pain and trouble that Father had left, Helena could finally remember that he had, if nothing else, done her the good deed of arranging Emil as her husband. Decades of poor judgement had at least included one single shining point of brilliance. Bright enough to dispel the murk of all the rest.

  “Let’s go for a ride,” Emil urged. “Agnes will be happy to watch Leda for an hour or two!”

  Helena sighed, “You bring my daughter to me, and now you want me to leave her behind?”

  “I had to bring Leda to lure you away from the books,” Emil leaned against the desk and gave that unfairly gorgeous smile. “Now that she’s drawn you away from work, I can seduce you away from your family too.”

  Helena looked into Leda’s big, beautiful sky-blue eyes, a lovely inheritance from her husband, “Did you know this devil was using you as accomplice in his rakish schemes?”

  Leda babbled something and promptly spat up on herself.

  A proper gentleman would never have offered his sleeve to wipe up baby vomit, but thankfully, Emil was not a proper gentleman. By the time Leda was cleaned, all thoughts of work were far from Helena’s mind.

  “Fine, no ride,” Emil continued. “A picnic, then. The three of us.”

  Helena relented, “Fine...if Agnes hasn’t already started making a proper lunch, you can tell her to prepare a picnic.”

  “I already did!” Emil said with a sly grin, rising to his feet. “She’ll have it ready in five minutes. Best get ready!”

  Helena hid a smile and shook her head, gathering up Leda. Her husband was incorrigible, but he was also right. The fires were extinguished, and she could use a chance to celebrate now. The baby had somehow fallen asleep in the few seconds she’d looked away. “Come on dear, your fool of a father will have his way whether we like it or...”

  Helena trailed off when Emil stumbled at the door. He paused, a confused look coming over his face.

  The room darkened.

  He glanced back at Helena, “I thought it was sunny.”

  Emil slumped back against the wall, then closed his eyes and slid down.

  “Emil!” Helena rushed over to his hide as best as she could encumbered by Leda. “Emil!”

  He snored.

  Helena glanced at Leda. Sleeping, breathing softly against her. Slumbering peacefully.

  Heart hammering, Helena approached the window. The sun was still out. The sky was cloudless. Yet it was as if someone had placed a veil over the estate, the sun’s rays only bringing twilight instead of the high morning sun’s full glory.

  The door opened behind her, and Helena spun. Agnes entered, the housekeeper stepping forward with wobbly legs.

  Her eyes were glassy as she spoke in a dreamy voice, “Hanion vis Dreamweaver requests an audience, ma’am.” Then, she slumped against the wall as well.

  Helena reached for the dagger hidden on the underside of the desk.

  The man who entered was unfamiliar. Rich clothes in the layered Genthi style rather than the looser-fitting robes favored by those in the southern provinces. Sharp features and eyes that shifted between colors from second to second, a trait Helena had never seen. She gripped the dagger’s handle and shifted so that Leda was further back.

  “Leave my house at once,” Helena said. “And undo whatever spell this is.”

  The stranger bowed, holding a silver-tipped cane out to the side, “Apologies, madame, but I believe you would be happier if your family did not know about this meeting.” He rose up, smile on his face, “You look quite well. I’m delighted. I’ve not seen you since you were a child.”

  Helena blinked, “Who are you?”

  The man gave her an amused look, “Why, as your charming housekeeper announced, I am Hanion vis Dreamweaver.” His smile spread, “Adept of the Seventh Order, and a dear friend of your father’s.”

  Her breath caught. The Order. Father had never spoken of it around her, something she expected was on Mother’s command. Even so, she heard pieces. Whatever the order was, it caused the split between Mother and Father. It subsumed Aven into its clutches. It demanded that Aven kill Ralius Talone. And it demanded that Aven kill Father.

  “What do you want?” Helena asked.

  Hanion vis Dreamweaver pulled up a chair to the desk and sat, leaving his can on his lap and crossing his legs, “I’m afraid that there is one debt of your Father’s that did not make it into that ledger.”

  “I know nothing of your Order,” Helena said. “I want nothing to do with it.”

  “I’m afraid that the same cannot be said in reverse,” Hanion said. “Your Father made a promise, and that promise was broken. He promised a child to serve in the Order, just as he had. Aven broke that agreement, and he is now out of our reach. In dying, your Father broke his oath of service to us as well. These broken Oaths now have passed on to you.”

  What had Father gotten them into?

  “Tell me what you want,” Helena said.

  “I simply wish to know that the debt will be repaid,” Hanion said. His gloved hand stroked the tip of the cane. “One favor is all. Swear to fulfil that debt, and I will trouble you no more.”

  “And if I refuse?” Helena whispered.

  Hanion’s smile didn’t waver, “That would be unfortunate. Regretfully, I would kill your husband first.”

  The words chilled Helena so deeply that she couldn’t reply.

  “If such obstinance continued,” Hanion continued. “Then I would kill you. Your debt would then fall to your daughter.”

  Helena jerked the knife out of its hidden sheathe, “If you lay a finger on my family-”

  The words died in her throat. No more would come. Her hands wouldn’t move. Not even a finger would twitch.

  The dagger fell, thudding against the wood desk. It bounced and fell against the carpet, making no noise.

  Hanion’s voice echoed, as if the chamber were vast, and he was miles away, “You will do nothing, because you are powerless. Your Father held some small power, and he died. Your brother held a modicum of potential, and he failed. You lack even that.” His smile grew wider. The chamber felt colder, the darkness growing.

  The darkness retreated, and Helena could move again. She swayed, falling into the chair. She trembled and clutched Leda close, the baby still sleeping peacefully.

  “If I’m so powerless,” Helena managed to master her voice enough to answer, “then what could you possibly want from me?”

  “We will find a task suitable for your abilities,” Hanion waved his hand as if it were a trivial matter. “Will you swear to honor our agreement?”

  “...I swear,” Helena finally gasped out.

  Hanion clapped jovially and stood, “Wonderful! Gaius often spoke of your wisdom and maturity with pride. I’m pleased to find you as reasonable as he claimed.” He bowed, “Know that you need not fear us as long as you keep your end of the agreement. The Seventh Order protects its own. I’ll darken your doorstep no longer. Good day, madame.”

  Hanion hummed a tune as he left, closing the door behind him.

  Helena collapsed to her knees. She trembled. She wanted to cry, but no tears would come. All that came was fear, rising like bile in her throat. The darkness lifted. Sunlight streamed into the room. Behind her, Emil yawned and stretched. Leda squirmed, letting out a cry of protest. Agnes rose, looking confused.

  “Hm? Did I nod off?” Emil gave an embarrassed laugh. “How on earth did I manage that?” His gaze turned to her, “Are you all right? You look pale.”

  Helena shut her eyes tight, pushing back the anguish. Her husband’s hand rested on her shoulder, her baby’s weight in her arms. Her family was so close, yet Father’s shadow still covered all else.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  ~ END BOOK 1 ~

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