Commissioner Victor did most of the work on what was supposed to have been a simple plan. They needed a firefly from any of the zones. Most were on duty or had been destroyed en route to the Midder-Lands. The few remaining were under the strict supervision of squad captains. Victor had to line the right pockets and whisper into the right ears to secure access to one firefly for an hour. And that’s why Regilon was walking slightly faster than he usually did.

  A portal to the Home of Heroes opened. Right on the street, arguing their heads off, was a woman he knew quite well and her daughter. Ophel was usually so quiet that it threw him off to see her screaming at Tenrad’s oldest girl. Surrounding them were the rest of Tenrad’s children, looking on in silence. The screaming match stopped when they noticed the Ring was active.

  The light in their eyes dimmed the moment they recognised Regilon. Ophel placed her hands in front of her and bowed. “Ren Regal,” she said. Her daughter was not as courteous. She stood straight and firm, readying her fists.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” said Regilon. “If I am right, your daughter wanted to follow her father somewhere.”

  Neither was ready to speak at first. Facing his red eyes on a quiet night broke whatever resolve Ophel had to remain calm. She stepped forward, but the daughter put a firm hand on her, keeping her mother at bay. Ophel had aged so much in such a short time. She had been quiet and unassuming during their childhood. She’d been a librarian for a long time, before spending the silent hours of the day alone with Tenrad in Se Fina’s forests. Her children may not know the kind of man Regilon used to be, but she had witnessed his deeds.

  Ophel put as much distance as she could between herself and the rest of her children and bowed once more to Regilon. “The earthen ran off not too long ago. Tenrad followed him through the portal and has not returned yet.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  She hushed the older girl, who was trying to stop her mother from saying too much. Ophel adjusted the scarf over her shoulders and approached the dashboard by the Ring. She looked at the screen and pressed a button. “Hessen,” she said. “They crossed Hessen at eleven forty-three.”

  “Open the portal.”

  She winced but concealed her reaction with a quick nod. Ophel obeyed, and the Ring warmed. The wrinkles along her face deepened, grey hairs flexing in the light. After taking the first step towards the portal, she grabbed the hem of his coat. “Whatever is happening between the two of you, we do not deserve to know, but please remember he has a family, and they need him home.”

  It was best not to promise anything. He gave the slightest nod and passed through to Hessen.

  What a dark night it was. A blackout of this scale brought his mind back to… yes, the Great Oppression. Hessen was a tourist city, packed with hotels and resorts, all surrounding the massive river that cut the country in half. Colossi stood in the river, the water rushing around their shins, towering over the land, their dark forms silhouetted against the navy, starry sky. These were the sons and daughters of Fonifa, the Six of the Living World.

  He put a hand in his pocket and crushed a nugget of astaphite. Power surged through him, and once again, the winds became his. They swept around the sorcerer as they listened to his voice. He leapt off the ground, propelled across the guard rails, soaring over the river, higher and higher past the hand of Fury, the Crafting God of Substance. His light feet padded the god’s shoulders. Power flowed from him into the statue. Fury’s crystal eyes glowed blue, bright as the stars above. The rest of the gods stood in silence, ignorant of the plight of men.

  He lent his gaze to the city; where his nose and ears had failed, his eyes had not. A distance away, golden ropes latched onto buildings, moving further through the night. Regilon pounced off the statue, trembling windows as he soared through the air. He swooped up and paused, surveying the scene.

  Jenne kept to the rooftops and balconies, using strings to propel himself away from Tenrad. The old Gaverian charged through the open street on the back of a beast with skin burnt and peeling off, exposing the insides where violent flame kindled the creature’s power. Tenrad spun a chain over his head, eyes on his prey. He threw the chain and it whipped through the air, shooting for Jenne’s heel. The earthen spun and blocked the chain with a dagger, twisted, and bolted off. He missed the chain’s rebound as it spun back like something alive. It snatched Jenne’s heel and thrashed him onto the road.

  Tenrad rode towards him, extending his hand to the ground. A portal opened on the road, exposing a violet hell. A demon raised a great rusted sword from the underworld and Tenrad snatched it as he rode past. He spun it with one hand, ready to strike.

  Red fire sprouted from the ground, burning in a ring around Jenne. Tenrad’s beast broke stride and the large man grunted, keeping himself on the creature’s back. The wind lowered Regilon, placing him gently on the rooftop of a nearby building. He stood with his hands in his pockets, rolling nuggets of astaphite through his fingers.

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  The first thing Tenrad did was examine Regilon’s exposed skin to see whether the signs and symbols remained. Those markings indicated an ascender was on the brink of death; not finding them meant Regilon was fit to fight. Tenrad’s glower deepened. His gums spread and his teeth bit deep into his tongue.

  “I should’ve known you were behind this,” Tenrad said. “Who would you not sacrifice to get what you want? What kind of man are you? Why do you always hide behind others to fight your battles? I have had it with you. I will not let you take him.”

  “I promise to bring him back safe and sound,” Regilon replied.

  The violet fires burning within the creature flared hotter, responding to the growls of its master. “I warned you,” Tenrad said. “One of us will die tonight.”

  The beast roared, and a ball of violet flame shot toward Regilon. He leapt from the roof, landing on an ice slate and sliding onto the road. He slid away from Tenrad, raised his hand, and two winds—one from the north, one from the west—charged forward. The first blast knocked Tenrad off his beast; the second shot him high into the air.

  Regilon dashed forward, leaping across icy stones. The wind spun him as he crafted an ice sword, slashing the beast in half as it fell.

  Tenrad came at him with his sword, slashing through the ice spikes sprouting from nearby buildings. He screamed as he struck, biting harder on his tongue when progress faltered. The spikes split through his torso and thighs, sending him dangling between two building blocks, a long drop to the ground. There Regilon stood before him, hands still in his coat pockets, rolling the nuggets.

  People hiding in apartments nearby had their cameras out, filming in secret. Many prayed they would remain spectators and not part of the act.

  “Spectre,” Tenrad grunted. “This is how low you’ve come. Resorting to drugs when your old body cannot keep up.”

  “Whatever it takes to get where I’m needed,” Regilon said.

  The earthen behind him struggled to rise after suffering a blow to the head. “Get to the nearest Ring,” Regilon yelled. “Travel to Zone Six. Victor is waiting with an aircraft. Get to Blackwood as soon as possible.”

  Two portals burst open in the ground, emitting bright violet light and sounds of chaos. Giant swords emerged, held in hands wrapped in rusted chains, violet liquid oozing from the charred skin. Regilon made hand signs, steadying his stance. The giants did not attack him immediately; they raised their swords and slashed through the ice spikes holding Tenrad aloft. He dropped to the ground and thrust forward, grasping a battle axe as he fell.

  Regilon fluttered away, spinning just as the mighty blade came down. He rolled across the ground, casting spells. The winds lashed Tenrad as two spiked walls of ice rushed to trap him. Tenrad slashed through the walls, stomped the ground, and broke the wind. He hurled his axe at Regilon, who spun away and called forth a pillar of fire. It slammed onto Tenrad like a meteor.

  When the smoke cleared, Tenrad remained unscathed, shielded by a massive, charred figure made of arms wrapped around him.

  Tenrad’s violet eyes glowed as the figure vanished. He opened his arms, and a demon from the underworld hurled a hammer toward him. Another portal opened, and a blade emerged, wielded by a second demon. Regilon swung a finger; a streak of flame severed the arm of the second demon. He crafted his own blade, and the two sorcerers clashed.

  Ice was no match for rusted metal. Regilon’s swords shattered repeatedly, forcing him to craft new ones. He twisted away, carried by the wind and luck. The hammer swung in wild arcs, each miss barely grazing his head. Regilon spun, erecting ice walls that Tenrad smashed with ease.

  Bouncing off a building, Regilon sent a mist clone ahead. Tenrad cut through the decoy and rammed his head against Regilon’s, throwing him off balance. He grabbed Regilon’s ice sword, drove it through his gut, and snatched his face, slapping him onto the ground.

  Tenrad roared, lifting his hammer with both hands. Regilon’s winds surged, forcing the hammer back, but Tenrad’s furious blows shattered the gusts, pounding Regilon relentlessly.

  Looking up, Tenrad spotted Jenne on the rooftops. He staggered briefly, then mounted his beast and charged. Regilon’s fingers twitched on the ground. Where the rest of his body failed, his senses did not—he knew Jenne had found a Ring and was running. Searching his pockets, he found no astaphite left. Raw power alone would have to carry him.

  Pressing his hand to the ground, Regilon cast a spell. The marks and symbols from yesterday reappeared, pressing into his skin. Fury’s warning resounded in his ears—do not wield what is not yours—but he disobeyed, knowing he would pay later. Ice spread across the ground as Tenrad pursued, and a towering ice wall rose between him and Jenne.

  As Tenrad summoned another weapon, Regilon sprinted forward. A portal opened behind him—too late to avoid the second. An underworld ogre, charred by violet flames and adorned with nose rings, swung a hammer that crushed Regilon’s chest, shattering ribs and spine. He crashed through the ice wall, flopping onto the ground.

  “Ren Regal!” Jenne shouted. Regilon bared his teeth and sprang to his feet. He thrust one hand backward, unleashing a gust that slammed Jenne toward the Ring.

  An ice wall sprang up just as violet balls of flame tore through the street. A hammer smashed into the wall, and a second slammed Regilon across the ground. He collided with the Ring Jenne had just reached. The earthen caught him before he could fall.

  “Hold on,” Jenne said. “I’ll get us out of here.”

  “Genevie,” Regilon murmured, sending spheres of ice infused with fire clattering onto the street. When Tenrad’s beast charged through, the spheres erupted, sending shards flying and creating impassable icy thickets.

  The Ring warmed. A voice, trembling yet firm, resonated through the device:

  "I’m sure she’s on her way to Blackwood. If you find her there, tell her not a day has passed without my regret. I was a coward and a fool. I am sorry for the mess I made. Tell her I tried to save our daughter, but I wasn’t strong enough. And I pray she will find it in her heart to forgive me."

  Jenne crossed to the opposite side. With the last ounce of his strength, he pressed his hand against the Ring and ignited it. Smoke oozed from its plates as wires melted, and alarms shrieked before dying out. Coughing blood, he slid off his feet, back against the machine, and smirked up at a livid Tenrad.

  “Ire,” Regilon croaked.

  “Spectre,” Tenrad growled.

  “I win again.”