Seven-hundred sets of Lacor eyes stick to us from the balcony one level up. We face the grand hall of the Barrius Sanctum, where War-scout Sorenhold and his ascended team stand atop a dais to greet us. They’re framed by a wall-to-wall mural of some great battle—the center of which highlights a Lacor knight holding up a bloody spear.

  It’s intimidating, if I’m being honest.

  At a moment’s notice, any one of these tutors could look through our hidden magic and see that I’m awakened, and that someone is lying to the sanctum. Or is Scorius the Unbonded really the only unique general who has such an ability?

  The six of us stand tense as Sorenhold slowly descends the stairs.

  “I’m loving the side-effects of the memory purge.” Sorenhold grins. “Stabbing our new transfers to hurt those dastardly mages keeps a smile plastered across my face.” He touches his exposed fangs. “I really don’t know why Taldun puts up with us.”

  The mix of war-tutors and cadets chuckle.

  “Truly, though, I always wondered. Do they take your recollection of your previous sanctum? Is it just a foggy mess whenever you think of it?” He laughs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get them all back once you ascend to the war-tier, or right before you die.”

  More low laughter pollutes the hall.

  “Here, in Sanctum Barrius, you will be tried.” A tentacle spawns at his back and slams the floor. “Tortured.”

  Boom!

  “And pushed to the brink unlike any other.” He struts as tendrils twist behind him, making him look like he has six arms.

  “Nal?” I whisper to him.

  “We just have to take it,” he whispers back.

  Sorenhold approaches, his tendrils smelling like brine. He rounds us slowly, making sure to lock eyes with each. Up close, the hole of missing skin up his cheek is harrowing—teeth more beastly fang than human.

  He pulls a scroll from his pocket and unravels it. “Lay, Nal, Hale, Jurs, Rogo, Ren. All Karns.” He shakes his head and slaps the parchment. “Who makes these deals, really? Sub-tier trash with mediocre attunement. At least, that’s what this paper says.”

  Jurso tenses, likely wondering if we’d been found out. But I stand tall. If it came down to it, Renesta’s shadow could blanket us for the fraction of a second we need to escape. I could use Risorgus’ ice to freeze the guards, and we could take flight, using the Paronox to flee into the side-tier once we’re free.

  I’m getting ahead of myself.

  “On first look, I’d think you’re too soft to be a Lacor iron rank.”

  You’d be right.

  “But after what I witnessed today.” He nods approvingly, keeping his gaze on me. “I’d say we got more than we bargained for.” He grabs my fist and holds it up.

  Cheers resound around the hall, and the war-scout laughs.

  “By fire and by arrow, this man begs for more! Ha ha!” He pumps my fist again, then points to the rest of my marked. “You have a valiant commander among you, who will lead you into the mouth of hell with shoulders squared.” He bends to be eye level with Jurso. “I look forward to finding what the rest of you have to offer.”

  He turns away, banging his tendrils on the floor and lifting his arms to ask for more noise.

  “Let’s show them what happens after a hazing!” Sorenhold roars. “To the banquet. Let them join the feast of ascendance!”

  “Hrah!”

  “Guess we came on a good day?” Rogo shrugs.

  “We never got a feast for ours,” Jurso says sarcastically.

  “Might have something to do with attacking our Head Magus.” Lay raises her eyebrows.

  “Oh right, that.”

  I stare up at the war-tutors and cadets shaking their fists encouragingly as they filter to the next room. My dragons peek from the mental plane, looking up at all of the Lacor citizens acting rowdy.

  “Finally. A proper introduction,” Dovesier snickers.

  “After being set on fire,” I counter.

  “You could’ve stolen my lightning at any time.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Dove? Starting a war we surely can’t win.”

  “Dragons don’t lose wars, mortal.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Once the balcony clears out and the guards at our back stamp their spears, Nalthir snaps his fingers.

  “That’s our cue,” he says.

  We walk in unison, still wet from our unfortunate swim, leaving footprints behind. As we hang left into the next hall draped with Lacor banners, I realize that although the architecture and art-style is wildly different from Elshard, it’s all the same. Pride for the empire.

  I turn back to make sure the guards are far enough out of earshot. “Remember our mission. Signs of Sile’s Bane… if it exists.”

  “It does,” Renesta snaps. “A council of diamond and mist ranked warriors wouldn’t upend their lives for nothing.”

  “Rank doesn’t always correspond with good decision-making,” I counter. “Sometimes power is granted to fools.”

  “Are you the shining example of that?” Ren arcs her eyebrow.

  “You know, you’re starting to remind me of Lyburn.” Jurso frowns at Ren. “All we need is a twisty orange beard under that pretty chin.”

  “And Hale sounds like Scorius,” Lay scoffs. “All he needs is that foreboding cane.”

  “Yikes.” Rogo grimaces. “If that’s where we’re headed, I’d like out of this group right about now.”

  Three more massive halls down, a room is presented with purple curtains tied with golden rope framing the fifteen-foot doorway. Commotion rings from inside, and I swear I just saw a slab of meat fly across the room.

  A cadet with a green ponytail beckons us inside, holding a vat of ale in his free hand. “Move it, Taldun scum.” He laughs. “Curtains closing in five, four, three.”

  Nalthir leads the way in jogging forward. Guess it’s best not to make more enemies by completely ignoring this drunk idiot. As soon as Nalthir crosses the threshold, the drunk’s arm goes wide around him.

  “Ah, my ring leader’s going to rush into my quarters and flip my bed come dawn, but who cares! We’re iron rank now, baby. Sucks that you got shipped. But hey, that’s the way of tier one, am I right? No cadet is safe.” He holds up a finger, then points to the rest of us. “But Barrius? We haven’t sent a well performing, good loving cadet in a decade. Everyone who’s been sent deserved it, hands down.”

  Or is that what they tell you? I eye the drunk suspiciously. One of his eyes is dilated, which makes me think it’s not only ale he’s on.

  Goblets clink all around us. Wine spills. Long tables bang up and down, and at the rear of the banquet, Shase sits with a few other well decorated cadets. I wonder if those are the team leaders, or party poopers.

  I’ll be neither, today. House Kavoh may have been the house of punishment, but we knew how to drown our sorrows when House Mother wasn’t looking.

  I eye Renesta, wondering if we can drop the awkward tension for a night. Her narrowed emerald eyes tell me she’s thinking the same, maybe.

  Just as I’m about to grab her hand, an arm drapes around my shoulder, making my blood run cold.

  “No hard feelings today, huh?” The one-eyed archer smiles with pearl-white teeth.

  Honestly, I want to elbow him in that vein bulging out of his shaved temple to call it even, but instead I just shrug his arm off.

  Don’t care how well I have to blend in, I’m not playing politics with a man who unblinkingly shot an arrow into a prisoner’s shoulder.

  “Hey, hey.” Hisen’roe’s brow furrows. “I gave it to you easy there, brother. Could’ve cleaved your neck if I really wanted. Besides, you’re a growler, right? Spice makes you feel less.” He drapes his other arm around Renesta. “And you. That was some dark shield you put up, there.”

  She frowns in a confused manner. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Smart, Ren. She knows he’s fishing for information. His poison is Kyard based, which means his magic is weak. And if I had to guess, none of the new iron ranks could sense where it came from. The only one who makes me uneasy is him.

  My eyes glance to Shase, who seems aware of everyone and everything despite appearing engaged with the cadet talking his ear off on the dais.

  “Alright, alright. Just having a little fun.” He pats us both and turns. “Call me Roe.” He snaps his fingers, catching the attention of one of the cadets holding a plate of goblets. “Wine or ale?”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Ale,” I say.

  “Wine.” Renesta lifts her chin.

  “Alright.” Roe grabs the drinks carefully. “For the sub-tier brat. And for the high-society angel.” He hands them out.

  “We’re both Karns, actually,” I say, wondering if he’s joking or whether he has a hard time remembering something the war-scout announced fifteen minutes ago. “She just wishes she was from the higher places.”

  “Well, no shit. Me too.”

  Dammit.

  “Where abouts?” he tries.

  “Stop fishing for our information,” Ren plays the standoffish one. I owe her for that.

  “Tough one. I get it. Fine. First one’s on me. You know, because of the arrow and everything.”

  “Uh huh.” She holds her goblet up sarcastically.

  “Telling you, Karns, it’s not me you should be mad at. It’s her. She’s the real witch.” Roe gestures to the woman who burned me, Delaya.

  Flashbacks of orphans being murdered in the sub-tier dungeon plague my mind. This woman would’ve done just fine down there. Wanting to inflict suffering… what had she done already?

  The darkness I’d felt nagging at my mind… the feeling that kept waking me in the side-tier, it nudges me again. It comes on slow at first… then rises to an ear-piercing ring drowning out all other noise.

  “Hale,” the voice sounds far away. “Hale.”

  My hearing returns, and I see Layla stepping in front of me, boxing out two cadets trying to cheers me.

  “I know that look,” she says, keeping her voice low.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I watched you for weeks as you recovered. Whenever you’d wince like that… the night sweats would follow. What is it? Remnants of Foren’s Winter?”

  “I don’t know.” I wipe my temple as sweat starts to pour. “No fucking idea.”

  “You were just burned alive not an hour ago.” She grins at me.

  “Could be that, yeah.” I look to my left to see Renesta and Jurso mingling with some Lacor cadets. Glass ranks, by the looks of them.

  “What’s the play here, Hale?” Lay asks.

  “Just want to get back to Elshard,” I speak low. “No matter how hard I try, leaving Misty and Kane will never sit right. Our priority should be them. Much more than this Sile nonsense.”

  “Mm.” She looks at me skeptically. “Tell me you’ve been given a sign of life. Something.”

  “Hope, guard, just like when I got stabbed through the heart in the Sept.”

  “I suppose I can get behind that.” Lay nods. “But if we ever found a way to return, would your transcendence be enough?”

  I sigh. “We have to rank up here. Seems Lacor has an accelerated path to do so. For better or worse, right?”

  “Yeah. Survived our first day, I guess.”

  I scoff. “It’s not over. Go gather what you can, gossip queen. And we should both remember not to talk too much about the past we never lived.”

  “Nal can be useful. Don’t discount him to oblivion. He has his good side, just like you.”

  “Where?” I ask with a smirk.

  She tilts her head, grasping a goblet from a servant.

  “Wouldn’t have taken you as a wine drinker.” I arc my brow while backing away into the crowd.

  “We can still surprise each other.” She holds up her glass.

  Apparently, my legs are guiding me to be a gossip king too, because I’m three tables away from Shase’s dais. I wonder if he’ll make a show of me trying to walk up to a team leader on my first day, but he doesn’t seem like the type.

  Two growlers twice my size nearly barrel into me in their drunken stupor. I take a step back and let the table catch them. They’re both laughing, at least, as wood splinters jab into their backs and ale falls all over their nice leathers.

  I make sure to cheer alongside the others as I pass, as if I can fit in after an introduction like Sorenhold gave us.

  To my right, two mages are shamelessly hooking up on the bench, ignoring the three cadets laughing at the spectacle.

  What a shit show, honestly.

  One table away from Shase, I’m about to pass the witch talking to two knights towering over her. Recalling her nasty expression as she sent tailed fire to burn my skin off, I can’t resist.

  Zzzzt.

  I snap a spark of Dove’s lightning at her leg, which makes her jump in place. The knights look at one another and burst out laughing, and I can’t help but smirk as she spins every which way to try and find where it came from.

  You’ll never catch me, bitch.

  “Mmhmhm, I liked that one, mortal.” Dovesier cackles.

  “Knew you would.”

  As the raucous continues, I push carefully past a line of cadets to stare directly up at Tact-team Seven’s leader.

  He stops his conversation abruptly, eyes narrowed, and nods for me to step up the stairs.

  “Excuse me, Morrium.” He holds up his hand and steps aside to give me some space.

  I look like a sore thumb up here with my wet cuirass and still-healing burn marks, but an olive branch is an olive branch.

  “Here to exact your revenge?” Shase hides his smirk.

  “My mind is too foggy for that,” I lie, pointing a finger to my temple.

  “It’s a feat in and of itself that you’re standing upright after the torture you just endured. That must be one hell of a bliss user among you. Judging Sorenhold’s tightening tentacles, I have it narrowed down to two. The muscular woman, and the little blond man.”

  He can read magi like I can, or he knows the tendencies of the war-scout. Either way, this man is dangerous.

  “No reaction, hm? Smart man.” He pats my back lightly.

  “I’m sure you’ll know everything in a few days’ time,” I say.

  “That’s when the fun will be over.” He nods to his team. “They’re all taking wagers on who’s who. Most think you’re a growler, because, well, that endurance of yours. But I took the opposite bet. You don’t have the build. And despite your seemingly abrupt callout, I think it was strategic. You’re their leader.”

  “Interesting theory. Obviously, I pegged you for theirs. So, I’m glad you allowed two leaders to formally meet,” I say.

  “I’d say this is the informal meeting. Formal was with Sorenhold.” He tilts his goblet toward me.

  “Quite the introduction. Don’t remember much about Taldun right now, but I think my body would recall a hazing like that.”

  He bark-laughs. “Taldun is ruthless in its disdain for Lacor cadet life, but we of Barrius are brutal in other ways, as you’ve seen firsthand. But now that the initiation is over, and if you can get past the resentment you must surely harbor, we will be allies on the battlefield.”

  I arc my eyebrow at him. He’s very forthright, which is unexpected, and I’d be a fool not to return the favor. “The real reason I’m up here… is because you were the only one to offer restraint. The others were all too excited to heed the war-scout’s order.”

  He nods knowingly. “As a glass rank, the growlers called me soft. Now they bow. There’s more than one way to accumulate power here…” He pauses, waiting for me to give my name.

  “Hale.”

  “Hale,” he repeats. “Much more than one way. I look forward to seeing what you’ve got.”

  “Likewise.”

  We let the niceties settle.

  “What was the event that got you your ascendance?” I ask.

  He scoffs. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Your breaches are still wet.”

  “I can dry off and plan.”

  He clearly likes that. “Intersanctum battle,” he says flatly. “Six teams invaded Dalod Sanctum. Five made it back.”

  They invade one another?

  “You look like you saw a ghost, Hale?” He shakes his head. “I don’t envy those who receive the mage’s fog. You probably invaded a sanctum yourself to wear that iron mark.”

  “What happened to the sixth team?” I ask.

  “Captured. No ascendance for them. And now Docton has bargaining leverage over Barrius, if the Head Magus decides to come to the table.”

  “Brutal,” I say.

  “Nothing you haven’t experienced in the sub-tier, I’m sure.” He eyes me.

  “Yeah, but once we reached the new world, we hoped it would be better.”

  “All for the gears of war,” he says.

  “High-society?” I surmise. “That must be your beginnings.”

  “Affluent and prosperous. Yet we all wind up in the same academies.” He flashes a smile. “Mixing and matching with all walks of life is said to temper blood best. But who truly knows with all the conflicting mythos out there.”

  They believe in blood tempering too. Interesting.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Hopefully, we’ll get to ride beside one another and gain our onyx marks, if I don’t strangle Delaya first.”

  His laugh his low and dragged out, which makes me laugh. Maybe it’s not so bad here. Then again, I wouldn’t be saying that if I didn’t have a legendary dragon blanketing me with bliss in my darkest moments.

  “Enjoy the party, Hale. You’ve earned your right to breathe in Barrius.” He dismisses me.

  I pat him on the back in thanks, and eye Renesta chatting up some handsome warrior resting his hand on his sheathed dagger. Is she working him like she worked me?

  Not sure, but a bit of envy rears its ugly head.

  “Jurs! Jurs!”

  I catch a group of growlers tossing him up in the air, and can tell by his bloodshot eyes, he’s sloshed.

  When they let him down, I take one of his arms to help balance him.

  “Good man, right here.” A growler with too much hair on his bare chest slaps Jurso’s shoulder—nearly dislocating it. “Six shots in one minute. Thought he’d break by now. Hah!”

  The commotion goes on as the growlers find their next victim.

  “Hale,” Jurso hiccups. “You couldn’t do that, right? Even with those drag—”

  I catch his cheeks in my hand. “Remember yourself, Jurs.”

  He waves me away. “What’s the point? If I die, I’ll just be left in this horrible place, right? Might as well make the best of it.” He hiccups again.

  Shit.

  “That’s not how it’s going to go. I’m not giving up,” I promise, dragging him away from the commotion.

  Renesta catches it and politely excuses herself from the handsome warrior.

  She bows to help get Jurso’s other side. “We’re supposed to be making an impression.”

  “We are.” I nod to him dribbling on himself.

  “Bliss usually nuffil—ahem—nullifies the alcohol.” Jurso holds up a finger. “I can sober up in a pinch. Watch—”

  Renesta smacks him lightly. “No magi in here.”

  A few glass rank cadets laugh at us carrying him out. “Been there!” one says.

  As soon as we reach the light of the next hall, Jurso throws his hands over his eyes.

  “Gah! It’s still daytime? What in the seven hells.”

  I plead with the guard, “What’s the situation for new cadets. Do we have a quarters, or?”

  He takes one look at Jurso playing with his tongue, then back to me.

  “Hm. You’re the one who withstood Delaya’s fire earlier.”

  “I am.”

  “That was… impressive. This is… less so. Follow me.” He stamps his spear for another guard to take his place.

  “Didn’t realize we had an audience.”

  “Word travels quickly between these marble walls.” The guard picks up the pace. “Quickly. I don’t like to be away from my post.”

  Ren and I share silent looks toward one another as we continuously help Jurso stumble along the halls. I’m praying he doesn’t hurl.

  I try to memorize every hall and every turn, noting the change from lavish murals to gothic stone overlays. We pass old-style quarters that remind me of an updated Sept dungeon, then move farther to the richer quarters filled with mahogany and other finished woods.

  We had that once… I mentally reminisce, thinking of the riches we acquired in Elshard after Izfael’s untimely fall.

  After a few more halls, we cross broken down double-doors into a back area that smells like mildew. Renesta scowls as soon as the stench wafts in her face.

  “Thought you lots were Karns. This should be like home.”

  “Once you get a taste of fresh air, it’s hard to go back,” I speak for her.

  “Here we are.” The guard presents a door half-off its hinges, right across a room with a bubbling cauldron that doesn’t look like it was checked for maybe a week. “Transfer lot six.”

  Renesta covers her nose as she looks inside.

  “Sorry, but this is standard for all transferees. Don’t worry. Once you start earning merits, cadet life will turn around. Congratulations on initiation.” He raises his arm as if blocking his head, and I return the gesture which makes him scoff. “Guess that mage fog is still strong. Good day.”

  I wonder if Casterban and Lyburn orchestrated the mission this way, knowing mage fog would be an absolute crutch in the beginning days. Or was it all just luck?

  Jurso gagging snaps me back to the present.

  “There’s a slop bucket over there.” Ren points, and we heave him over.

  The vomit is loud and echoing from the bucket. Ren shakes her head, looking at me, while I smirk.

  “Ugh.” Jurso falls over the side, holding the bucket, then gives us a pathetic thumbs up.

  As comical as he is right now, my heart breaks for him. He finally kicked his bliss addition in Elshard, found a nice girlfriend who complimented him on and off the battlefield, and then… this.

  “We ever going to address the dragon in the room?” I ask.

  “I’d hardly call him a dragon,” Ren deflects.

  I give her a look, making her shrug.

  We try to help Jurso onto a bed, but he smacks us, begging to be left on the grimy cold floor. We move to the hallway enough so I still have an eye on him.

  “I don’t know, Haledyn. Are you ever going to trust me again?” She tilts her head.

  “Not sure I ever did, really. That doesn’t mean I think you’re the enemy.”

  “I’d certainly hope not, otherwise this mission is toast.” She scoffs.

  “Do you know what keeps me clinging to you?” I say.

  She presents her perfect figure in a conceited manner.

  “Not quite.” We both laugh.

  “It’s him. I know.” She nods toward my chest. “Boe’s mark.”

  “All is how it must be. Those words haunt me still. Though I highly doubt any notion of fate is guiding us at this point.” I motion to Jurs, who literally gags on cue.

  “What was I to you, really? A target recruit for the Ire?” I ask. “All that seductive flirting in the dark ocean…”

  “Sometimes things just fit together that way.”

  “You sure take me as a gullible bastard sometimes.” I tilt my head right back at her.

  “It could be beautiful, you know. Ending war together.” She slowly steps closer to me. “Stopping cataclysmic destruction of all things upheld for thousands of years…”

  “You really believe in this Sile nonsense?” I ask.

  “With everything I am.” She caresses my face, and leans in for a kiss.