For a split second, Laryn could feel the elemental essence in the water around him. He called out to it, and it… responded to him.

  A razor sharp wedge of liquid jetted out of the shallows of the river, spearing through the voidling’s head. The creature twitched, then crumpled, landing heavily atop Laryn.

  Laryn lay in the cool water, pinned by the weight of the voidling. He breathed heavily, catching his breath. That had been too close.

  “You did it! That was amazing! I was so worried that you were going to die.” The Administrator seemed genuine, but Laryn ignored her.

  Summoning up the last of his strength, Laryn pushed the corpse away and crawled to his feet. Blood leaked from his side. He walked a few steps back toward the beach, then his foot touched something hidden just below the surface of the water; the object that had tripped him and nearly ended his life.

  He fished it out, and laughed. It was his medical kit, badly battered and waterlogged, but still in one piece.

  Laryn sat on a rock in the sand, surveying the wreckage of the wagon. A lot of their supplies lay on the shore or in the partially destroyed wagon.

  He began tending to his wounds, carefully cleaning and bandaging each one up.

  “Hey,” the Administrator said, walking up. “Sorry for distracting you earlier, I didn’t mean to. It’s just been such a long time since I got to talk to anyone. And it was really kind of you to protect me.”

  Laryn finished tying a large bandage off, securing the dressing on the bloody hole in his side. He clenched his teeth, biting back the annoyance he felt at the young woman.

  “What are you, anyways?” he asked, not looking up at her. “You didn’t even seem worried about that voidling. And… it didn’t seem to notice you.”

  “It didn’t notice me,” she said. “I’m only visible to you, and other subjects who may join you. I can’t be hurt, because my soul is bound to the kingdom core.”

  Laryn moved on in his work, methodically addressing each injury he’d received, no matter how minor. He wasn’t interested in dying from a painful infection. He laughed at himself, a wry, bitter scoff, recalling how ready to die he’d been moments earlier.

  The Administrator remained standing there, watching him.

  Unable to continue ignoring her, Laryn sighed.

  He glanced up and took her in for the first time. She had large, dark eyes that sparkled with reflected light, a round face, and two furry antennae that sprouted from a mane of brown curly hair. She blinked her eyes rapidly, long lashes fluttering behind her spectacles.

  “You are invisible then? To strangers?” he asked.

  “More… Immaterial,” she said. “I cannot interact with the real world; or leave the boundaries of your Kingdom. Well, your [Outpost], since it’s only tier one. It’ll have to grow a lot before you reach kingdom tier!”

  She clasped her hands behind her back, staring at Laryn. The hem of her long, dark, formal robe was damp and splattered with sand. A warm, brown-orange sash tied around her waist hinted at a curving figure. She wore leather sandals braided with orange, green, and brown beads. A green scarf wrapped around her neck and dangled to her elbows.

  “But water splashed on you,” Laryn protested, pointing at the dirt on her robe. He peered behind her, and saw a line of footprints in the sand. “And you’re making footprints!”

  “It’s mostly an illusion,” the Administrator said with a sigh. She waved a hand, and the sand and water disappeared from her robe. “It’s supposed to help me look more ‘grounded in the scene’ or whatever. You’d think I was some sort of wraith if I didn’t have a shadow.”

  Rubbing his chin, Laryn examined her. She looked like one of the ancient scribes that worked in his father’s accounting houses. Younger, and prettier than them, sure, but the look was out of fashion. He doubted it ever had been in style.

  “In theory,” she continued, “I could move and shift things. I could seem as substantial as you, but my material presence is restricted by the core’s influence. In practice, no [Ruler] ever maintains a high enough influence for me to do much more than just… appear. And if your influence dropped close to zero, I couldn’t even do that.”

  “Wait, so when I was fighting—trying to protect you from that voidling—it didn’t even matter?”

  The Administrator laughed, a clear, bright tone that dulled Laryn’s frustration.

  “I appreciated it!” she said. “I thought it was sweet!”

  Laryn sighed, grumbling inwardly. He tasted bile in the back of his throat.

  He hadn’t asked for this. But then again, neither had she. If he was going to live, and get through this, he needed to get a handle on his emotions. Taking a deep breath, Laryn settled himself.

  “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier, honored Administrator. Um, what is your name, by the way?”

  “My name?” she said, seeming confused. “I’m the Administrator.”

  “Administrator—that’s your job,” Laryn said, wondering if he was misunderstanding her. “I am the second son of Yarin the Elder, king of Eltar. My oldest brother Yarin the Younger will be ruler. Keldin, the third, will be… would have been a priest. And that makes me a warrior, by profession. But my *name* is Laryn.”

  He offered a hand to her. She reached out to take it. He felt nothing as he watched her fingers close around his. She looked at him strangely. Her fingers were long, slender, and creamy white, contrasting against Laryn’s sun-browned skin.

  Laryn tried to shake her hand, but his fingers passed through hers. “What is your name?” he asked again.

  “I told you,” she said. “I’m the Administrator.”

  “You never had another name?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t remember. I’ve just been called the Administrator as long as I can remember.”

  “I can’t call you ‘the Administrator’ all the time,” Laryn said. “It’s a mouthful. And it’s not a name.”

  “The other rulers did,” she said, with a shrug.

  “I’ll call you Adi, then, if that’s okay.”

  She pursed her lips, a slight frown forming as she considered. “You can call me whatever you want. Names are not chosen by their bearer, they are given.”

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  She tilted her head, staring off into the distance. He lips twisted into a faint smile. “Adi. I like it. You can call me that.”

  “You’re strange,” Laryn said. “I’ve never met anyone like you. Are you a creation of Galwyn? A part of his core?”

  “In a way,” Adi said. “I was recruited to be the Administrator. Then I was soulbound by the coresmith, and now I seek to serve the ruler of my kingdom core.”

  Laryn had heard about something like this. It was said that the king of Baltoressen had a magical assistant. But the art of soulbinding had been lost to the ages.

  “As a warrior-son, I may be called upon to help educate and instruct the ruler in the effective management of his armies. In a way, you and I have a similar job.”

  Adi laughed and shook her head. “Not anymore. You’re not a second son, or a warrior-son, or whatever. You’re a [Ruler] now. The ruler of this kingdom, and that core.” She pointed at the silvery obelisk.

  Laryn gazed at the core, a shimmering sliver of straight lines contrasting against the wilderness that surrounded him. It called to him. He could claim tiles. He could reverse time; un-do his mistake and bring back Keldin.

  Who cares if it had never been done before?

  What else did he have left? Bring Keldin’s ashes back to Eltar? Face the wrath of his father?

  He fiddled with the promise ring on his life finger. Elena had thrown hers away, so it didn’t really mean anything now. But Laryn couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

  With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned his eyes away from the kingdom core. He’d really messed this up.

  He’d planned on selecting the perfect place to establish a new kingdom. Scouting out the area for several days. Now his core sat in shallow water, on the edge of a sandy beach, in the middle of nowhere.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint,” Laryn said. “But I don’t feel like a [Ruler]. In any other situation I would be thrilled to stay and learn from you. You must have grosses of years of experience managing kingdoms. Perhaps even a great gross.”

  “Oh, I do,” Adi said. “Many many many years. It’s so fun, I could do it forever. That’s why I agreed to be soulbound! Speaking of which, I’m supposed to give you a tutorial, but you keep jumping around and trying things out randomly. Would you like a tour of the core’s functionality?”

  Laryn sighed heavily. “I know some things about running a kingdom and managing a core,” he said. “It’s part of my warrior training, and I’d imagine the main functions are the same. But I’m especially curious about special features. If there really is a chance of going back in time to protect Keldin, I want to know about it.”

  “Oh, okay,” Adi said. “So no tutorial.” Her antennae drooped. “You just want to talk theory.” She dragged out the last word like it made her bored to say it.

  “What are you anyways?” Laryn said. “You look a bit like an elf, but I’ve never seen any of them with antennae like that.

  “I’m a Lepidoptera,” Adi said. “I didn’t even show you these!” She turned around, glancing back over her shoulder to see his reaction. Large fuzzy wings unfolded from her back, opening up to display an intricate pattern of browns, oranges, greens, blues, and purples. She gave them a little flutter, then sighed. “Ah, it’s so nice to stretch.”

  Laryn’s eyes bugged. “Wings? You can fly? You’re like a butterfly-person?”

  “Not exactly,” Adi said, blushing. “I’m more like a moth than a butterfly. And I can fly a little bit but the wings are more for fashion than function. We use them to attract mates.”

  “That’s so interesting,” Laryn said, then wondered if there was a deeper implication to her showing her wings to him. “I’ve never heard of your people before.”

  “That’s because we all died out about a few hundred years ago,” she said with a shrug. “My kind really only exist as I do these days, as soulbound administrators and such.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Laryn said. “It’s… it’s a tragedy to lose such beautiful creatures.”

  Adi blushed and looked away. “But that’s enough about me,” she said. “You sure I can’t interest you in a tutorial?”

  Laryn took a deep breath, then looked over his domain. The shimmering spike of the kingdom core stuck out of the shallow water of the beach. Water lapped at the wreckage of the wagon. Keldin’s body lay in the sand.

  The immensity of the situation loomed, and Laryn realized how alone he’d become. Keldin was gone. He didn’t really even know where he was.

  How was he supposed to have a kingdom without any subjects?

  Could all this be a hallucination of some kind? A cheery, ghost-like butterfly girl seemed more dream than reality.

  So he had to make a choice. Should he stay here, ruling over three hextiles in the middle of the wilderness? Or should he try to get back to Townshold, find a coresmith, and start over?

  Or should he just give up on the whole endeavor, and go back to Eltar?

  No. He wasn’t going back to Eltar. That was out of the question. It probably made sense to go find a coresmith, who could help disable the core and move it to a better location. He’d need a lot of money, but he could probably draw on his family’s reputation for that…

  But he wasn’t going to start hiking today; he needed to recover.

  “Fine,” Laryn said. “Give me the rundown.”

  Adi clapped her hands and skipped into the air, gleeful. Her wings fluttered as she spun around, then floated gently to the ground. “Amazing!”

  Laryn smiled despite himself.

  “Your Kingdom Core is powered by elemental essence,” she said. “You can feed it essence from any of the six elements.”

  Laryn raised an eyebrow. “Any of them?” he asked. “That’s rare. Most cores only function with one or two types of essence.”

  “Any of them!” Adi repeated. “Every core essence you feed the core increases the core’s total influence by one. The higher your average influence per tile, the more you get the core benefits.”

  “That’s normal,” Laryn said. “How do I get core essence though? Different coresmiths prefer different methods—”

  “Hey, that’s a fun one!” Adi said. “You’ve got a free base magic ability called [Sift]. It allows you to refine things down into their elemental essence. You want to try it?”

  “Is it hard? I’m pretty tired…” Laryn rested his elbows on his knees and placed his chin in his hands.

  “Nope, it’s easy. You just need to get the thing you’re going to sift, and bring it over to the core. Then I’ll walk you through the steps.”

  “What can I sift?”

  “Anything. But some stuff pays off a lot more.” Adi placed a hand on her hip, and stroked her chin as she scanned their environment.

  “He’d be the best,” she said, pointing at Keldin.

  Laryn snapped to his feet. “No,” he said. “We’re not desecrating my brother’s body. I’m curious, but not that curious.”

  “Woah,” Adi said, genuinely surprised. “I would consider it to be a great honor, if I were your brother. But you don’t have to use him. That creature over there would be fine. You just probably won’t get as much essence from it. What did you call that thing again?”

  “A voidling,” Laryn said. “It’s a voidling. How have you never heard of voidlings before?”

  Adi shrugged. “Go grab it and bring it over to the core, and I’ll help you sift it.”

  Laryn’s body ached as he walked back across the beach to where the voidling lay. “Can’t you help me with this part?” he demanded.

  Adi shrugged apologetically. “I told you, can’t really move things around. Not at one influence. I’m more of a projected image. Barely even here.”

  Laryn grabbed the voidling by a hind leg and dragged it across the beach to the core. His head spun. He rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

  “I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

  “You do need to rest and recover,” Adi said. “But just wait till we get to the part of the tutorial that covers your constitution stat! I promise, this is worth it!”

  Laryn shook his head.

  “Be honest,” he said. “Do you really think it’s possible for me to bring Keldin back?"

  “Well… It’s possible. You could,” Adi said. “Right? You said it yourself. Just claim enough tiles, and go back in time. Stop him from crossing the river.”

  “You said that it wouldn’t work!” Laryn protested.

  “I said nobody had ever done it before,” Adi corrected him. “Not that it wouldn’t work.”

  “So it’s possible?”

  “In theory.”

  Laryn groaned. A weight settled on his shoulders.

  He pulled the voidling’s carcass through the shallow water over to the metal spike. When he reached the kingdom core, he was ankle deep in water. He leaned against the pillar to catch his breath.

  “Kind of a bad place to put this,” he said to himself.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” Adi said, splashing up alongside him. “But… yeah. You could have at least put it on dry ground. And I always feel prissy for this but come on, you didn’t even get it close to the center of the hextile!”

  “That’s not fair,” Laryn said. “I couldn’t even see the hextile borders until I activated the core.”

  “Well, it’s still off center,” she said. “Anyways, moving on. You can [Sift] the voidling here just fine.”

  “It has to be by the core to work?”

  “No,” she said. “But the essence fades quickly, so it’s better if you sift things right by the core.”

  “How do I do it?” he asked.

  “Same way you cast the water dart. Only this time, imagine pulling the essence out of the voidling.”

  Laryn rested a hand on the shell of the creature and closed his eyes. He visualized all the essence that went into forming the voidling, and allowed it to coalesce into a glowing sphere in his hand.

  He opened his eyes. Faint light swirled around his hand. Two small spheres solidified there, and the voidling’s body melted away into the water.

  Laryn stared at the glowing orbs; one green, one blue. Life and Water. They pulsed and swirled gently in his hand.

  “Quickly,” Adi said. “Push them into the core before they evaporate.”

  Already the orbs seemed to be fading. Laryn brough them up and touched them against the core.