Schemel sat on her bed, leaning against a pillow with her phone in her lap. The meeting had started four hours ago, but she had long since lost track of what was happening. Consultants from the House of Sentry went over the details of her previous encounter with Calimer.

  “Ten percent wasn’t a bad offer, Renna. You should have agreed to it,” they said. “Calimer is afraid of you. We should take advantage of that fear to gain the most we can while we still have the upper hand.”

  “We are Henrikians,” Schemel replied. “We take everything.”

  The meeting continued, but Schemel had reached her limit. She removed her headset and tossed her phone aside. Crawling out of bed, she sat on the floor, her gaze fixed on the empty wall.

  Erisa’s footsteps echoed across the room. Schemel considered asking the Gaverian to come in and pat her on the head, but reminded herself that she was a grown woman now. Pariston couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  She turned on the TV in her room. Many Henrikians were celebrating on the streets, chanting, “Son Solvia, Son Solvia, Son Solvia.” She was a hero.

  “For some, ending the war alone is a victory,” Demettle addressed the nation from the Assembly Hall. “Let us set aside our agendas and support the High Commander’s ambition to salvage the most from the Midder-Land conflict.”

  Her stomach churned. Her eyes were heavy but she was too alive to sleep. She swiped her phone screen back and forth, unsure of what to do. She should talk to someone.

  “Jenne, how are you?”

  “Ashey, your mum is on the phone,” said Jenne, turning away. “Hamis, it’s Renna.”

  Hamis pressed his nose against the screen. The two boys huddled together, grinning. They were outside in the grasses. An amber-haired girl walked past them quickly.

  “Are you in some secret bunker?” Hamis asked. “I called my uncle, but he said he couldn’t tell me where he was.”

  “This isn’t a secret bunker. It’s just a cheap motel we found. It’s the only one that we hadn’t bombed yet.” After a brief pause, she added, “I miss you.”

  “We miss you too, Renna,” said Hamis.

  “I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can so we can continue where we left off. You wouldn’t want to fall behind in Hyper-Physicals, right?”

  “We don’t mind,” Jenne said. “It gives us more time to focus on other subjects.”

  “He’s only saying that so you don’t feel bad,” Hamis said. “Jenne makes a fuss on Fridays.”

  “Hamis!” Jenne shrieked.

  “It’s okay,” she laughed. “As long as you put your free time to good use.”

  “Renna, I tried calling my father, but the calls aren’t going through,” Jenne said.

  “Why not?”

  “Ms Class says he’s unavailable.”

  “That shouldn’t be,” said Schemel. “I’ll talk to her for you.”

  “Thank you, Renna.” She gave each of them two kisses before hanging up.

  Back in the emptiness of her room, she focused on the small task she had set for herself. She called Se Fina.

  “Renna,” gasped Ms Class. “I wasn’t expecting your call.”

  “Why are you preventing Jenne from speaking to his parents?” she asked. “I swear to God, if I find out this has anything to do with him being an—”

  “No, please, no. It’s the truth. I’ve invited Jenne several times to contact the Commissioner’s Office, but they always give us the same excuse. They say, ‘Aron Shepherd is unavailable at the moment.’”

  After ending the call, Schemel dialled Ren Talon.

  “Explain yourself,” she demanded.

  “Blackwood is offline, Renna,” said Talon. “We’re yet to reactivate their portal. As soon as we can reach Master Aster’s family, we’ll put him on the line.”

  She didn’t believe him. Schemel made one last contact.

  “Savage,” she called.

  “Renna,” Savage greeted. “It’s good to hear from you. I stand behind you in this moment that I do not stand beside you.”

  “Save it.” Schemel thought of a lie. “Talon informed me that an infection has broken out in Blackwood. Everyone in the village is under quarantine.”

  “Yes,” Savage confirmed. “No one can leave or enter the village without permission from the doctors. It may be related to the deaths in the forest.”

  “I see,” she said. “That must be why Jenne hasn’t spoken to his father for so long.”

  “Yes. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, I was asking for Jenne’s sake.”

  Erisa joined her at the bedside. Both sat with their knees raised, eyes fixed on the empty walls. Schemel had informed Erisa about what she had discovered, calling for the Gaverian a few minutes ago.

  “There’s only one weapon a loved one can use against you,” Schemel said. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Betrayal,” Erisa answered.

  “Exactly.”

  “We don’t know enough,” Erisa added. “Not enough to form conclusions.”

  “Right, but there’s someone who can help us.” Schemel rose to her feet. “Take me to Firios.”

  “Renna, is this what we should be focusing on right now?” asked Erisa. “Savage and Talon might be keeping whatever is happening in Blackwood a secret to protect us from a distraction.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Schemel stated. “We would be safer knowing what Calimer might already know.”

  There was a car waiting outside. They settled into the backseat. Erisa reached over and retrieved a box from the rear, placing it between them. The box contained clothes resembling what a local would wear. Schemel removed her trousers, replacing them with a worn-out pair. With some help, she donned a shabby robe and covered her hair with a shawl.

  In this part of the city, the streets were wide, littered with burnt tyres and broken metal bars. Ashen corpses lay stacked in corners. All the houses were dark, except for a couple of windows where candlelight flickered. Schemel made her way through a dark alley, moving as quietly as possible. She surveyed her surroundings, preparing herself for anything, knowing she could not rely on magic until she was out of Tardis.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  An old man lay in a gutter, hugging himself to fend off the cold. Next to him, a home without electricity sheltered a family lying side by side on mats, fending off the chill seeping through a broken window. Following the scent left by a marker, she arrived at the building where Firios was hiding. It turned out to be some kind of motel.

  Out in the front yard were pickup trucks with machine guns mounted in their beds. A few men lingered around them, while a handful slept in the front seats. Inside the bar, men lounged—big, rough-bearded, and red-haired—laughing loudly, drunk. Schemel stood at the entrance, waiting for one to notice her.

  One eventually approached her. He was much taller than her—so tall that his red beard grazed her forehead. “Is the High Commander here to drink with us?” he asked.

  “You insult me on purpose, Hannik.”

  “Henrikians,” he chuckled. “You’re much like the other one.”

  “And where would he be?”

  “Upstairs.”

  Hannik and his men used to run Tardis. Fighting for Henrikian coin had been far more lucrative.

  Schemel searched for Firios. Eventually, she knocked on the right door.

  “Hello, friend,” she said.

  “Come in.”

  A kettle whistled, and tea was poured into a cup set for Schemel. She took a sip, sinking into her chair. The room was dim, every window covered by drapes. A bed occupied the small space, with dirty magazines peeking from underneath. Adjacent to the wardrobe sat a computer and a stack of files.

  Firios’ face was creased with sleeplessness. He couldn’t stop rubbing his palm against his trousers. Sitting across from Schemel, he stared at her with wide eyes, as if attempting to shoot lasers with his gaze.

  “We have a problem,” he said. Schemel took another sip of her tea. “I looked into what you said, but it’s much worse than that.”

  “Yes?”

  “Seven fireflies disappeared from Zone Seven, and no one knows where they are. Seven. All of them vanished.”

  “Where?”

  “In the UCL.”

  “I see. Does their disappearance have any connection to Blackwood? Talon mentioned that the Blackwood Ring is malfunctioning.”

  “We have more to worry about than just the fireflies. I believe Votress was on one of those flights, and he might be missing in Blackwood. I can’t confirm anything, but ever since he left the Midder-Lands, I’ve been unable to reach him.”

  Schemel placed her teacup down. “What else is there?”

  Firios pointed at his computer screen, tracing his hand down a long list of records.

  “What am I looking at?” Schemel asked.

  “This is the travel history from Camp Regis’ Ring. Two days ago, around eleven in the morning, there was a trip from Camp Regis to the Home of Heroes.”

  “What business do we have there?”

  “Your men are searching for an ascender,” said Firios. “Whatever Votress was supposed to take care of has backfired.”

  “Who else knows this?”

  “It’s impossible to tell.”

  “If Calimer finds out—”

  “We’ll be ruined.”

  “Savage should’ve told me.”

  “He must’ve been protecting you from reacting like this,” said Firios, taking hold of her shoulders. “Your Firstman knows you better than you know yourself. Calimer would’ve sensed your uneasiness.”

  Firios was skilled with computers. He could dig deeper if he set his mind to it. Schemel first asked how he had obtained the travel records. He explained the concept: every ripper device in the country had a unique ID that recorded every transmission. When a Ring from Camp Regis connected with a Ring in the Capital, the two would authenticate IDs with a ‘handshake’ before a portal opened.

  She then asked if that was how the phones worked, and he confirmed her understanding was fairly accurate. When one phone calls another, a ripper stream forms to carry voice and data across. Knowing that for a fact, he asked her to pull records of call history between Talon and Savage over the past week.

  “What you’re asking me to do is pointless,” said Firios. “We don’t know their IDs.”

  “Can’t you guess based on their location? Talon is usually at the Commission of Labour, and Savage is probably at Camp Regis.”

  “Look, there are hundreds of phone calls between the two locations,” Firios said, pointing to the computer screen. He was about to add to his point when something caught his attention.

  “We’ve had three distinct calls from Blackwood.”

  “That must have been Votress.”

  “Can we listen to what they said?”

  “We only keep recordings of phone calls for six hours before disposing of them,” he said. “Storing them for longer is expensive.” Firios frowned, mouth agape. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Renna?”

  She could not see what he was seeing. All she saw were numbers.

  “Someone from the Commission of Labour made a phone call to Tardis.”

  “That must’ve been me,” she said. “I called Renn Talon before coming here.”

  “No, I see your call registered here. That was just this evening, right?”

  “Yes?”

  “This was much earlier, around twelve in the afternoon.” After a moment of consideration, he added, “It could be a call to Camp Major. The base is close enough to Tardis.”

  “Or it could be something else,” said Schemel.

  “It’s too late to play the audio. The conversation has already been erased from our servers.”

  “Run a trace-back spell.”

  “What?” he laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

  All markers halted the flow of time in an enclosed environment, shifting the position of objects within the space. The most powerful markers, in very small proportions and on the rarest of occasions, had the ability to draw time backwards. The further back in time they went, the more ascension was depleted.

  “I’ve reported the ID to Talon,” Firios said. “He will look into the matter. Whoever is communicating with foreigners will be found.”

  “We don’t have that much time,” she said. “I can’t sleep tonight, knowing there might be something Calimer knows that I don’t.”

  “You’re overthinking.”

  “I am not.”

  “If you’re this paranoid, why don’t you call off the treaty and get home?” said Firios. “We could be gone by tonight.”

  “Caution is not paranoia,” she said. “It won’t hurt to eavesdrop on the conversation. Just to be safe.”

  Firios took a deep breath and nodded. Making a hand sign, he pressed his palm to the screen and used his free hand to trace a circle in the air. There was a pulse, a force like having a vacuum pressed against your chest. The humming increased in intensity, and he groaned. Then it ceased. His computer looked unchanged, but in reality, the entity was hours behind in the past, separate from the current timeline.

  Unable to stay upright, Firios slipped off the chair and dropped to the floor, unconscious. Schemel took over, doing her best to read the logs. She matched the ID and, after clicking a series of buttons, retrieved the recording she was looking for.

  “…we don’t know what it is, but they still suspect Genevie—sorry, I have to go.”

  She scrolled up to an earlier recording.

  “…yes, the whole thing is made up. I swear, there is no earthen ascender anywhere. It’s a setup to trick Calimer.”

  There was a spy among her men. But why had Calimer given her such an offer if he knew she was lying about her army? Or was he mocking her? Maybe he did not know. Either way, she couldn’t stay in Tardis for much longer.

  “Calimer no longer has the upper hand,” Firios said when he came to. “He does not know we know he knows. We have to kill him.”

  “And condemn Henrikia to face sanctions for the next century,” Schemel said. “I’d rather wait and see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps Calimer is still open to accepting a percentage of the astaphite. If he makes a reasonable offer, I will accept it and everyone can go home.”

  “And if he does not?”

  “Hannick and his men should make it look like a terrorist attack,” she said. “We don’t want Calimer’s death traced back to us, especially with the Treshim involved.”

  On their way to the motel, the car slowed in the middle of the road. Erisa reached for her pistol. Placing a gentle hand on Schemel, she scanned the street ahead. Schemel had already noticed it—an obstructing vehicle parked in the middle of the road. One man stood in front of it, arms raised in surrender. Pariston. If she had been behind the wheel, she would have run him over without a second thought.

  “Renna.”

  “I’m not speaking to him.”

  “He won’t let us pass unless you do,” Erisa said. “Shaphet’s Law binds all of us from using magic.”

  Schemel closed her eyes, bracing herself for what might be the longest conversation of her life. Pariston joined her at the back of the car.

  “I won’t take much of your time,” he said. “I did this because I knew it was the only way to speak to you.”

  She did not respond.

  “How long has it been, hm? Just the two of us, spending an evening like this without a care for the flags we represent.” He gazed into the night, seeing bright stars that she could no longer perceive. “Remember when you snuck out of your dorm room and met me in the parking lot? You would be so angry, but then that smile would appear... I’ve missed you, Schemy. I know you’ve missed me, too.”

  She said nothing.

  Pariston reached for her hand, massaging it in his. “Shaphet’s Law is powerful, but it’s completely useless once you know how to cheat.” He opened his hand wide. Her eyes followed the golden aura welling up in his palm. Slowly, he shaped it into a golden dagger.

  “Father made me come here because of you. He asked me to kill you before its too late and doesn’t care which laws I have to break to get it done.” Pariston laughed, twirling the blade in his hand. “I deceived myself into thinking I still had a chance to win you back.”

  “How did you do it?” Schemel asked. “How are you crafting? You should be dead.”

  “I covered my hand in gold dust before getting my tattoo,” he explained. “The symbol appears complete, but it’s flawed.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You angered Calimer with your antics today. So much so that he has chosen to believe certain rumours circulating in our camps. Calimer’s offer will be different tomorrow,” he said. “Accept it for the sake of peace. If you behave like a child and refuse, not only will the war continue, I will kill you where you stand.”