The Emerald Reaches sprawled across the ocean like scattered emeralds on black velvet—a collection of enormous tropical islands thousands of spans from the Greatwood. Distant enough to be safe from the forest's horrors, close enough to profit from its desperate survivors.

  Maris Valerian perched on her balcony like a predator surveying her domain, warm night air caressing her skin as she sipped coffee that cost more than most people's homes. Below, the city of Merigold spread in every direction—a vast network of canals reflecting moonlight like liquid silver. Boats glided through the waterways, their lanterns painting shimmering trails across the darkness.

  That was Grandmother's legacy. Maris and her mother had transformed the Emerald Reaches from a haven for cutthroats into the beating heart of Ark's trade empire. Now, merchants crossed oceans to reach Merigold, bringing wealth that made kingdoms weep with envy.

  A predatory smile touched her lips as she inhaled the coffee's rich aroma. Her islands overflowed with rare treasures, but one prize remained tantalizingly out of reach. That damned ginseng. Astrid Winters, the stubborn old hag, guarded her cultivation secrets like a dragon hoarding gold.

  But Maris was patient. Everyone had a price—even noble monsters.

  "Archon?"

  She'd sensed Liam Graves approaching long before he spoke, his nervous energy preceding him like cologne. With a sigh that could freeze blood, Maris ran elegant fingers through auburn hair that caught moonlight like fire.

  "Liam, please. Just Maris." Her voice carried a kind of warmth that made smart people run.

  "Old habits," he murmured, hovering near the doorway like prey afraid to enter the lion's den. "I have... urgent news."

  Maris kept her attention on the city. A flock of albatrosses circled overhead, their silhouettes stark against silver clouds. She admired their grace, their uncanny ability to navigate impossible distances. Unsung heroes of her empire—they guided lost ships to Merigold's welcoming shores.

  And occasionally, they guided enemies to their doom.

  "Then tell me," she said, impatience sharpening each word like a blade. "Why the hesitation, Liam?"

  "A Terran." The word dropped like a stone into still water. "Arrived on Ark three days ago. Through La-Roc."

  The porcelain cup hit the table with a sharp clink that echoed in the sudden silence. Maris turned slowly, deliberately, her gaze finding Liam frozen in the doorway like a deer sensing wolves.

  Something was very wrong.

  "Terrans come and go like summer storms," Maris said, each word precisely measured. "Why is this one urgent?"

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  But she already suspected. The way Liam's hands trembled, the way his eyes couldn't meet hers—this wasn't routine intelligence.

  "This Terran has joined the Monster Hunters." Liam's voice cracked like thin ice. "And he's shown... impressive affinity. Light, Life, and Spirit roots. My informants say Archon Aldertree has taken a personal interest. She plans to apprentice him once he passes their ridiculous exams."

  Silence stretched like a bowstring.

  Maris processed the implications with the cold calculation that had built an empire. Terrans were chaos incarnate—unpredictable wildcards that shattered carefully laid plans. Treaties existed at both towers specifically to encourage their swift departure.

  Yet Diana Aldertree, one of Ark's most powerful Runebinders, had decided to train one?

  Diana's responsibility was maintaining balance, not entangling their world with these people’s chaotic influence.

  They'd definitely need to have words.

  "There's more." Liam's voice carried the tone of a man delivering his own death sentence.

  A housekeeper entered—Jenny, moving with the fluid grace of a predator in servant's clothing. She glided past Liam like he was furniture, placing a tray of sliced fruit and whipped cream before Maris with practiced efficiency.

  "It's alright, Liam." Maris selected a strawberry with deliberate casualness. "Jenny here is my most trusted housekeeper."

  The blood drained from Liam's face. He knew exactly what that meant—Jenny was no ordinary servant. She was a Master Runebinder, Maris's personal apprentice, and could punch through castle walls without breaking stride.

  "The Terran claims he was abducted by something that sounds like..." Liam swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat like glass. ". And worse—he says he was freed by another force. A Runebinder capable of magic far beyond anything known on Ark."

  The world stopped.

  Maris froze mid-bite, strawberry juice staining her lips like blood. Jenny's casual mask shattered, revealing the steel beneath. Tension crackled between them like lightning seeking ground.

  When Jenny spoke, her voice was winter itself. "Caretakers." The word fell like an executioner's blade. "And something that can overpower their magic? That's impossible."

  "Everything is possible, Jenny." Maris set down the fruit with surgical precision. "If the Caretakers are interested in this Terran, we want nothing to do with him."

  Liam cleared his throat—a sound like gravel in a grinder.

  "There can't be more, Liam!" Maris shot to her feet, fury radiating from her like heat from a forge.

  "There is." His voice barely qualified as a whisper. "The Terran—while still Unsealed—managed to slay a Brine Tyrant on his first night. Enough to impress Archon Kane into bestowing the Breaker accolade."

  Maris's jaw dropped. For one terrifying moment, the most powerful woman in the Central Isles looked genuinely shocked.

  "Alexander gods-damned Kane is involved too?" Her voice could have frozen the ocean. "Just who is this Terran? I'll throw him through a portal myself if necessary."

  "Your Grace," Jenny said with lethal smoothness, "if the Terran has an accolade of that magnitude, Archon Aldertree holds the political high ground."

  Something snapped.

  Maris grabbed the fruit tray and hurled it with superhuman speed off the balcony. The spinning plate sliced through an albatross mid-flight—a spray of blood and feathers—before embedding itself in a building a full span away with a thunderous crack.

  The bird's body tumbled into the canal below with a distant splash.

  "Fuck politics." Her voice carried the calm of an approaching hurricane. "No one person is worth tangling with the Caretakers."

  She turned to Jenny, moonlight reflecting in her eyes like silver fire.

  "Prepare the fleet. We're going to La-Roc."

  Jenny's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "All of it, Your Grace?"

  "All of it." Maris's grin promised violence and worse. "It's time Diana Aldertree learned the price of disturbing the balance."

  In the distance, thunder rumbled across clear skies—or perhaps it was the sound of war drums, calling the most dangerous woman in the world to battle.