The mist was thick enough to blanket the soundless aircraft as they skimmed across the Ossen Sea. All the fireflies flew low, barely a few dozen meters above the water. Whoever was keeping watch would not know they had arrived until it was too late. A perfect unit to launch an invasion.

  So why did she feel nothing? A moment like this should stir excitement, victory, even dread. But inside, there was only emptiness.

  Jay sat at the far end of the craft, silent. Even if she tried to draw him in, he wouldn’t answer. Schemel lifted her phone instead, staring at two names: Jenne and Ashey. In the end, she called neither, sending Ashey only a short good morning. No reply. Minutes later she typed new instructions—keep Jenne with her at all times. This time Ashey answered with a single OK.

  The firefly shuddered. She peered out the windshield and saw nothing but black sea and a small island rising like a pebble from it. The aircraft trembled again. Jay remained at ease, so she asked herself if it was the craft shaking—or her. Her hands tingled. A chill ran down her spine. Even her scalp prickled, tightening against her skull.

  It was the debts. The men she owed. They had stripped the life out of her goals. Aside from Wiseman, Schemel had borrowed from several wealthy patrons, promising them victory dividends after her conquest of the Midder-Lands. None of those promises had borne fruit.

  When they gathered for their visit that day, she had expected fury. Instead, they surprised her with good news—at least from their perspective. She would not pay a single kliq of the six million she owed. Word of her troubles had reached Sexton, and Pillard Lloyd himself offered her creditors repayment in full.

  Pillard had done this to protect Schemel from what he would do to her if she went too far.

  She had refused Pillard’s offer, vowing to repay her debts in full, though she needed both more time and even more money to sustain this last campaign. Her investors weren’t convinced. Cornered, she promised them what she could not possibly give—an earthen ascender for each of them.

  That promise drove her to threaten Leonard, ordering him to test as many earthens as he could in hopes of duplicating Jenne’s success. Now she would have to deliver not only the Midder-Lands but also an army of ascenders. Otherwise, Pillard would step in and cover her debts—and God knew he would never do it out of kindness.

  “Ready, Commander,” the pilot called. “Three thousand meters from shore.”

  “Good. Tell the others to keep behind us. We don’t know what the Sexites might have in store—”

  A violent pulse tore through the craft.

  “Hell!” the pilot spat, his radio bursting alive with curses from other crews.

  “Emic,” Jay and Schemel said together, unbuckling their belts.

  “Open the doors!” Jay barked. A metallic click, a hum of hydraulics, and the wind roared into the cabin. Schemel dropped to one knee, dragged a black chest from beneath her seat, and snapped it open. Inside, astaphite nuggets gleamed. She crushed them in her palm and sucked the magic into her veins.

  Another pulse—then boom! A firefly exploded, shredded by raw sound. The pilot and crew dissolved into fragments, their remains raining into the sea. Wave after wave of sound hammered across the waters, ripping ships apart in a relentless rhythm. Each strike came faster, stronger, merciless.

  “Two thousand five hundred meters from shore!” the pilot shouted, jerking the craft hard to one side. A sound wave roared past, smashing the firefly trailing behind into pieces.

  Schemel leaned out for a quick look. The sea boiled with wreckage—metal and men alike scattered across the surface. Yet, even amid the carnage, a few hundred fireflies still flew strong.

  “Thousand meters off the shore!”

  A blast ripped through the formation, smashing four, five—six more fireflies into ruin. The ships behind panicked, climbing skyward before breaking formation and fleeing back toward the mainland.

  “Cowards,” Jay growled, sparks igniting at his fingertips.

  “Be grateful we’re not hit,” Schemel warned. “Once we go down, it’s all over.”

  “I’m not taking chances.”

  He pressed himself against the firefly’s outer wall and began climbing onto the hull, exposing himself as bait for Emic’s next strike. Schemel’s hairs bristled, static crawling over her skin. The air thickened—an unbearable charge—just moments before Jay bolted.

  “Five hundred meters to shore!” the pilot cried.

  Lightning split the sky. Schemel’s gaze snapped to the coastline where Emic stood alone, feet planted, hands clasped in intricate signs. He released his spell. A pulse screamed toward them, raw sound tearing the air apart.

  Jay shot from the firefly like thunder incarnate, a blue streak tearing across the sky. He cleaved through the wave, crashed into the shore, and struck with godlike force. Sand erupted skyward, raining down in a golden haze.

  The crew erupted in cheers—too soon.

  When the smoke thinned, Emic was gone. Jay stood tense on the beach, eyes darting for the threat.

  A portal cracked open behind him.

  Emic stepped out calmly, hand outstretched. The beach exploded under a hail of concentrated sunlight, struck down by Schemel’s comment.

  “You’re not the only one with help,” Schemel muttered, recognizing the telltale distortion. Emic had a ripper with him.

  Jay seized the opening, conjured a blade, and launched forward for the kill. But the portal blinked—and Emic was gone. Jay reappeared above the sea, his roar of frustration echoing over the waves.

  Desperate, he latched onto glowing strands stretched between two fireflies. He swung himself around with brutal force and hurtled back toward shore like a comet.

  Schemel leapt from her own ship, landing hard on a hovering saucer before sprinting across its surface toward the sand. The coast was close—close enough to join the fight.

  They stood at the precipice of their first battle. Fireflies swarmed the skies above, blotting out the horizon. Emic was not a man of words, and even now he struggled to find his final ones.

  Jay crafted a blade as tall and broad as himself, planted it in the sand, and placed his hands behind him. Schemel’s boots sank into the soggy brown shore as she descended her saucers. Still, Emic’s ripper had not revealed herself. Schemel guessed the woman thought secrecy gave her the advantage. It wouldn’t. Kill the master, kill the servant. Easy.

  “There are people on this island who do not want to be caught in the middle of this,” Emic said. “Why don’t you hold off your invasion until we evacuate them?”

  “Anyone who thinks they can frolic on my property without repercussions has themselves to blame,” Schemel replied. “Do you think I would allow them to escape? My men are already disarming the Ring. If they want to leave, they can try by sea or air.”

  Emic bowed, saying no more. He planted his feet wide and shaped a sign with his hands.

  Jay chuckled, gripping the hilt of his sword. “This is too easy.” He charged without hesitation. Schemel dashed after him. She wasn’t quite as fast, but both of them outpaced Emic by leagues.

  The fat magician smashed his fist into his palm. A shockwave of sound blasted outward, hurling sand and wind. Jay and Schemel staggered but stayed upright. Emic would need a moment to recover before trying that stunt again.

  Schemel crafted a spear, laughing like a maniac. She hurled it at his throat. Jay caught it mid-air and whipped it forward even faster. Emic snatched the weapon in his palm and shattered it with raw energy. He grunted, pain seeping through the effort.

  No pause. Schemel was on him, slashing into the meat and fat of his thick arms. Emic wobbled like a lumbering elephant, swatting her away with a blast. He seized Jay by the arm, sent shockwaves through his chest, and slammed him into the ground, trying to tear the limb clean off.

  Schemel caught Emic’s wrist with strings of light, spun him aside, and freed Jay. Jay rolled, summoned another blade, and slashed down for the kill—

  Too late.

  Emic vanished through a portal.

  Where was he?

  Sound blasted from behind. Teeth clenched in a furious snarl, Jay fell to one knee to heal. A second blast hit Schemel in the head. A third swept her off her feet. As she tasted sand, Emic grabbed Jay by the hair, hurled him skyward and shot pulses through him, higher and higher. A distraction.

  She scooped at the dirt and hauled herself up. While Emic mocked Jay, she prepared to strike—when Jay shot out of a portal and clambered onto Schemel. They rolled across the beach.

  “This is embarrassing,” Jay growled.

  “Thanks to that ripper,” she spat. “Where is Firios when you need him?”

  They hauled themselves to their feet, exhausted but refusing to show it. Emic stood across from them, arms folded, smirking as the morning sun gleamed off his bald head. “Had enough?” he asked.

  “Do you understand we’re here to kill you?” she said. “This is not a game.”

  “Knowing you and the meagre strength of your army, the Henrikian Assembly did not consent to this. I would save myself the trouble of killing you. Now is the time to turn around and go home. We will pretend this never happened.”

  Her blood ignited. She gave Jay a look he understood. Hand raised, she called down the sun and beams slammed into the sand. Glass erupted in every direction. Emic had an arm up in defence when Jay’s blade struck him across the belly. The fat Sexite gasped, kicked backward across the sand. Schemel cast a second spell and a ring of light burst around them. If there was a portal for him to escape through, Emic would not find it.

  Bounding across the beach, Schemel braced for a blow that might finish him. Jay stood with his back to the enemy, blinded by the light. Emic crawled across the sand, one hand pressed to the gash in his belly. And there was the little ripper—a girl about Ashey’s age, lean, in a brown uniform with a Gaverian crest on her badge. She dragged Emic by the shoulders toward an open portal in the sand. A ray struck her through the ribs. Emic screamed, pushing everything around him with tremendous force. Schemel slapped herself to the ground, evading the blast. She rose again, though not as fast as Jay, who dashed after Emic, chasing him through a portal. Both vanished.

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  “Sevin,” Schemel called. The ripper gasped, grabbing the spear wedged between her ribs and forcing it out. Seeing Schemel, she made a sign and opened a portal in the ground. Sevin jumped. Schemel sprinted, catching her before she fell. They wrestled on the ground, neither yielding. Sevin kicked, grabbed a handful of sand, and tossed it in Schemel’s face. She opened another portal and rolled through—but not before Schemel stabbed her belly with a dagger repeatedly. Sevin squealed as she fell through the portal with Schemel. They plummeted over a crowded city.

  Sevin opened a second portal. Schemel dove straight through, landing on the ground. Thousands of feet passed over her. This wasn’t a stampede—the singing didn’t suggest it. Hooves struck near her face, and a rider pulled the reins. “Get off the road!” they shouted. The fireflies hadn’t yet appeared. Schemel turned and saw Sevin on the ground, bleeding from the rib where the dagger had struck. Schemel crafted a second dagger and charged—but the ripper pressed a hand to her chest, shoving her through another portal.

  She splashed through the water, thrashing to the surface, blinking rapidly. Screams echoed from above. She sniffed the air. Amid the oils and perfumes, she caught a whiff of malicious magic. Schemel kicked against the water, pushing herself toward the edge. A foot pressed against her brow. Looking up, there he was—lanky as ever—Stojan Vorian, the Ghost of Tardis. His white eyes glowed through the bandages wrapped around his face, hands deep in his tattered pockets. Steam hissed from his mouth.

  With a kick, he bashed her on the head, forcing her back into the water. Lungs and eyes burning, she struggled, but the fight was slipping away. Losing strength and will, she surrendered to the force above and let herself sink. As her mind began to shut down, her body moved on its own. Fingers clasped together, a golden cord spiralled around her, heating the pool. Exchanging two-thirds of her remaining ascension, she erupted from the pool like a glowing, maniacal octopus, seizing command of the water. She latched onto the wall, climbing toward the ceiling. Silver blades shot from Stojan. Her strings caught them, hurling them back.

  The mist crafter darted through the sauna’s fog. Where was he? No matter. She couldn’t afford to cast raw spells like this anymore. Schemel pivoted and struck the wall, seeking sunlight. She hit nothing.

  A whirlwind of mist swept through the bath. Stojan bounced off the wall, a silver blade gleaming in his hand. He pirouetted, slashing through her strings, grabbed Schemel by the hair, and slammed her to the ground. His blade came down. Schemel thrust her hand forward, and it jabbed straight through him. She grunted. He grunted. Stojan lifted her head and hammered it on the tiles—once. Too many times. He forced her head up again, but she caught him with a knee to the groin. Momentum swung to her side as she delivered weak but persistent blows.

  Stojan blended into the mist, slipping away. Schemel grabbed him by the hem of his garment, tied a string around his wrist, and hauled him over her shoulder. He splashed into the pool. Falling on her belly, she wrapped her hands around his neck, squeezing as he thrashed. Her nose bled, and her vision blurred. Stojan tore free with the last of his strength, but strings snared him like a web, slamming him against the wall.

  Schemel leapt onto her circular disks, confronting the mist crafter above ground. She struck his head against the wall until it cracked and bore a hole. Sunshine poured in, hitting Stojan’s exposed head as steam seeped from the sauna. Schemel commanded the sun; rays converged on his skull. He screamed as he burned, and she held him steady until his charred skin clung to his bones. She let him fall. Dead.

  The outside world had not yet caught up with the chaos. Her fireflies had not reached Tardis, and it seemed Jay and Emic were elsewhere. She staggered from the bath, wondering if she would heal on her own. At the exit, the women who had run earlier pointed her out, some on the verge of screaming again.

  Across the vast chamber, several pools held fair-haired men lounging with red-haired women. The men were likely Yunnish, the women natives of Tardis.

  “You,” one man called, rising from the pool with a finger pointed. “What is your business here?”

  Schemel opened her mouth to speak when thunder struck. Panic. Men and women fled from her as quickly as they could. Schemel straightened, following the crowd to the stairs leading into the open streets. She stood with her hands on her hips, watching fireflies drop soldiers onto rooftops. A stampede erupted, the crowd pushing wherever guns were not pointed.

  Schemel grabbed a hand—it belonged to a red-haired young girl in skimpy linen clothing, wielding a knife. Schemel broke the girl’s wrist, sending the knife into her own hand. She swiped across the girl’s throat, missing by an inch. Someone grabbed her from behind. Schemel stabbed them—Sevin.

  The ripper backed into a portal, which Schemel followed. Once again, they fell from the heavens, but this time Schemel would not let her escape. Sevin fell faster, back to the ground. She cast a spell; a portal opened beneath her. Schemel screamed, raising a hand. The sun obeyed. A beam of megalithic proportions struck Tardis, vaporizing Sevin and leveling buildings across the city. Those caught in the beam burned to ash instantly.

  Schemel crash-landed on a rooftop, ignoring the pain shooting through her shoulder. She tried to stand but fell, spewing blood from her mouth. Looking up, she signalled a firefly to send a crate down. Gunfire resounded in the distance as unprepared Sexite troopers collided with her soldiers. By all indications, this would be a swift battle.

  Lightning struck where she stood and Jay appeared. He leaned on his giant sword, glowering toward the other side of the city. Emic stood there. Both Gaverians had taken a fair amount of damage, judging by the state of their uniforms. Schemel looked slightly worse and wished she didn't have to support him.

  “Have you seen Calimer?” she asked.

  “He’s here,” he growled.

  “How about Pariston?” she muttered. “And Steffen?” Fighting all of Sexton’s finest men head-on seemed appealing in her mind. The reality of the situation had not dawned on her—she could die today for a rather obvious oversight.

  “How much longer can you go?” Jay asked.

  “I can’t lift a finger.”

  He fetched a nugget from his pocket and tossed it to Schemel. The stone shattered in her palm. Knots in her mind unravelled. This was far from enough ascension for the battle ahead. They had to beat Emic quickly.

  Before they attacked, a dust storm spiralled from the palace through the charred streets. A man shot out and spun, landing beside Emic.

  “Calimer,” said Jay, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. “This just got complicated.”

  “I’ll die if I face Calimer,” Schemel said.

  “You’ll die if you face Emic alone,” he said. “I’ll help you with Emic.”

  “What about Calimer?”

  “I’ll fight both.”

  “Jay, if you die your father will not forgive me.”

  “If I die, you’ll most likely die as well. I’m not sacrificing myself to save you. We came here to win. Get your head in the game.”

  “Schemel,” called Calimer. “I expected something like this. You’re so predictable it’s hard not to find it funny.”

  “You’ve predicted how this story ends,” she said. “I’ll be pissing on your grave by sunset.”

  “Sure, sure,” Calimer said. “You make me wonder, though—how did Jacqolin agree to this?”

  “Jacqolin’s business is not my own,” she said. “Do you want to fight or have a chat over wine?”

  “I won’t kill you,” he said. “Once I subdue you, I’ll get to the bottom of this mess.”

  “How gracious, High Commander,” she said. “Be sure to tell your ancestors how much of a fool you were today.”

  Forces collided. The city shook on its foundation. Strings strapped to her waist latched onto shaky buildings, spinning her away from sound blast after sound blast. She rolled into an old building and dove through an opening in the wall. Emic crashed through with a punch, catching Schemel and smashing her head against a bathroom sink. She scrambled for anything, picked up a marble, and jabbed him in the knee. Strings snatched her out of the house, spun her through the air, and caught her again, landing on a rooftop. Emic fired a diagonal shot, crumbling half the building she stood on.

  “Commander,” called a soldier from above. A flying officer kicked down a crate. She snatched it with light, popped it open—Schemel snapped around. Blades of light combined to form a shield in front of her. Sound waves smashed right through her, shattering her arms. She spun away from the roof, slapped against a window, and hammered down onto the roof of a kiosk below. Schemel got up, leapt onto a flower pot, rolled out, and stepped into a gutter, running for shelter. Would it have been worse to fly south to Blackwood and help Jenne save the earthens? Why was she thinking about this now?

  Children hiding in a cramped cubicle whimpered at the sight of her. She peered out into the alley. Emic stomped over the pots and searched around. Schemel cast down rays, striking him at an angle of forty-one degrees. Windows shattered, glass sprinkled. Rays bounced off the shards, piercing his collar, belly, neck, and knees. Emic should have been down, but he was too angry to die. As he roared, the rays deflected from him. Half the shelter was gone, and Schemel streaked across the city again. Running from rooftop to rooftop, she halted as a dust storm charged down the street. Jay’s lightning chased after it. She whistled, leaping. Jay caught her by the waist and spun her toward Calimer. Schemel tossed a sphere to Jay, and he smashed it on the ground. Emic grunted, eyes blinded by the light. Jay sped through and slashed him across the waist, just as Calimer caught her by the throat.

  She kicked into the air and tried to scream. A lightning bolt shot through Calimer’s damaged eye. He let her go with a grunt, grabbing the bolt and wrenching it free. Jay snatched Schemel, landing her on a roof and propelling her back into action. The ground broke under his boots.

  Below, the sun had scorched the street. Bodies plastered the pavement like statues unearthed from some ruin. There were so many—vendors, dancers, nobles, prostitutes—stuck fast to hot stone and glass. Survivors cowered under rubble while her soldiers patrolled. Strings latched onto railings and balconies, lowering her to the sizzling ground. As far as she could tell, Sevin was most likely dead.

  She walked the empty street until her soldiers recognised her from a distance. “We found Xenerisis,” the team leader reported. Should she be excited? Yes. Was she? Not at all. She climbed the palace steps and picked her way around the corpses of Sexite soldiers littering the halls.

  They fought their way through the palace until the last of the Sexite guards fell. Soon after, they reached the backyard, where the grass was green and untouched by smoke. A gazebo stood in the centre of the park, ringed by men in green robes—Treshim. They began to declaim about the wrath of God if she dared attack. She cut them short and ordered her troops to fire. They dropped like flies, leaving her facing a man she had not expected to kill today—but would enjoy his death all the same.

  Behind him a storm raged, twisting dust and lightning. Jay had a lot to prove today. For Schemel, the task was simpler. She left her small troop behind and stepped closer to the gazebo. Xenerisis sat in a chair with a little girl on his lap. A book lay on a table beside a glass of wine. Children clustered at one end, their light-feathered hair and green eyes marking them as Yunnishmen. She had met his family once abroad but did not know them well enough to regret their deaths.

  Xenerisis turned a page and sipped his wine. In a fit of temper, Schemel slammed the glass off the table.

  “I was drinking that,” he said.

  “Don’t pretend. I know fear when I see it.”

  “Surely you must have realised there is more to your condition than the priests told you. You are not as safe as you think. Schemel, why do you do this to yourself?”

  She bowed her head and smiled. Wet hair fell over her eyes. “I resigned myself to death the day the priests marked me with this.” She showed the tattoo. “I’m not interested in knowing my condition. What I want is to bash you in the face with that book.” She stepped into the gazebo; the children pressed back behind their father. Schemel brushed her hand across the table and placed her fingers over Xenerisis’.

  “You wouldn’t dare harm the Grand Mason of the Yunnish Empire,” he said.

  “Your emperor be damned.”

  Xenerisis rose. Schemel struck him through the head, pointed at the children, and silence fell. With both hands she beat him about the face until he writhed on the ground. Schemel smashed the back of his head against the table, tearing pages in the process.

  “You have doomed Henrikia,” he rasped through bloodied teeth.

  “Commander,” came a cry. “We found his wife.”

  “Where is she?” No answer. Schemel rolled Xenerisis over with her foot and turned. A small detached building stood at the far end of the courtyard. She hesitated for a moment, then ordered her men not to kill Xenerisis yet.

  “She’s on the toilet,” the soldier reported. “We can’t go in there.”

  Schemel and entered the lavatory. All the stalls were empty, and a guard waited behind the one where the Grand Mason’s wife was hiding. The noble woman who had looked Schemel straight in the eye and ordered her to apologise to Xenerisis. That was the night when the negotiations fell apart. She had the nerve to come to Tardis and gloat at Schemel’s expense.

  The woman screamed when Schemel kicked the stall down. “How dare you!” she whirled, hissing at Schemel. Her long stockings were dragging around her ankles. Her stuffy flowery dress had formed a canopy over the bowl. Her pristine powdered face did not have a line out of place. Somehow, her court gossiped she was jealous of Sorel's looks and wanted so badly to prove herself better than them.

  Unable to hide her smirk. Schemel stepped inside the stall and battered the woman’s wrestling hands away. Schemel grabbed her by the head and turned her around until she was staring at her own faeces in the bowl. The wife of Xenerisis’, whose name Schemel had never bothered to learn, lodged her arms against the bathroom walls, straining her head backwards. The pretty princess couldn’t compete with the force of an ascender. Schemel shoved her head into the toilet bowl, forcing it further down with a foot on the back of her head. The woman would not stop struggling. Schemel stomped again and again until the woman’s windpipe burst on the bowl’s rim.

  When she returned, it was Jay she found, dragging Calimer by the collar. He threw the Sexite commander against the table in the Gazebo. Jay stood with his arms folded, smirking at his success. Calimer’s hands were cut, and his other eye was gone. A blind cripple.

  “For the crime of crossing me, I sentence you to death,” she said. “Any last words, Calimer, Xenerisis?”

  “Idiot,” Calimer spat. “You should have known when I asked you about Jacqolin that I suspected he was incapacitated.”

  Jay crafted a blade, ready to strike him down, when Schemel lent her a hand. “Not yet,” she said.

  “Commander,” a soldier called from behind. “A message from the Sentry.”

  “Where are Steffen and Pariston?“ Schemel snarled.

  Calimer grinned.

  "Henrik City is under attack. Sexite forces are invading,” the messenger said. “The High Commander is needed in the capital.”

  “This is Sexite territory after all,” Calimer said. “It is my duty to defend my land.” Jay raised his blade to strike, when Calimer raised his voice. “If I die, you know what happens to your country.”

  “You bastard,” Schemel cursed.