“Stop!” came a voice from inside.

  Elijah ignored the order, extending his Mantle of Authority to its full strength. He’d developed some control over its size, but the strength remained consistent no matter how he used it. He was committed to working on it, though.

  As he continued toward the door, a series of gasps erupted behind him as the soldiers’ ethera stilled. Their weapons would remain unusable so long as they were under the influence of his mantle.

  Meanwhile, Elijah’s attention remained on the warehouse in front of him. There were even more people inside than the soldiers suspected. Elijah counted more than three-hundred, and his Mantle could only extend a little more than a third of the way into the building. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that there were over a thousand people in there.

  Which showed just how lax Isaiah’s surveillance had been. Was he stretched so thin that he couldn’t watch his whole city? Or was he just distracted? Elijah wasn’t sure, but what he did know was that the man needed to get it together and fix the problems at hand. Otherwise, Seattle would become a haven for all the worst parts of any society.

  Perhaps it already had, given the prevalence of criminal organizations in the Undercity. While they were headquartered down below, their influence extended to the surface, encompassing all of Seattle and reaching a host of other cities. And given that the Daughters had spread from Argos to Seattle, their reach was obviously wide-ranging.

  Regardless, Isaiah definitely needed to get a handle on his city, lest it become a problem.

  Those thoughts flitted quickly through his mind as he advanced, kicking the door down. It flew off its hinges, hitting someone on the other side. She didn’t die, but she sustained multiple broken bones.

  That sent everyone scattering through the building.

  “Stop, or I’m going to be forced to kill you all,” Elijah said, his voice barely raised. It still echoed throughout the warehouse. “I’m just here to talk.”

  That wasn’t necessarily true, but they didn’t need to know that. In any case, they obviously didn’t believe him, because they continued to run.

  “Any information on who’s in charge?” he asked, glancing toward Gunnar. The sniper shrugged, his burden still wriggling on his shoulder. That the Mantle of Authority hadn’t driven her to unconsciousness was a testament to her strength. Most people who’d failed to reach ascension would have been knocked out. “What about from our friend here?”

  She didn’t answer. Predictable, but annoying.

  Isaiah did, though. Via a small, floating sphere that darted into the warehouse, he said, “Her name is Desdemona Charontis. At present, she is upstairs, sitting at her desk. Presumably, she is waiting for you.”

  Elijah glanced at the sphere. It was made of high-grade metal that shimmered with blue ethera and featured a small lens that he took to be a camera. That it could persist within range of Elijah’s mantle was a sign of how much power was flowing through it.

  “That thing have any combat capability?”

  “Some. Not enough.”

  “Be ready, then,” Elijah said. “Gunnar, bring the girl.”

  The sniper muttered something about not being a pack mule, but he followed all the same. By that point, most of the Daughters had fled to other parts of the building. Thankfully, none of them attacked. Not a surprising development, considering they were mostly Thieves and Smugglers, but it was appreciated nonetheless. The last thing Elijah wanted was to be forced into slaughtering hundreds of women.

  He usually didn’t differentiate between male or female enemies. With the addition of attributes, the physical differences between the sexes had become a thing of the past. However, cultural norms were difficult to overcome, even when doing so was warranted.

  The warehouse itself was packed full of crates, many of which shimmered with powerful ethera that marked them as high-grade goods. Obviously, they weren’t meant for the Undercity. Rather, the warehouse was just a depot that had been chosen because it stood in Isaiah’s blind spot.

  Unfortunately, the crates were enchanted, blocking Soul of the Wild. So he had no idea what those crates contained.

  Otherwise, the warehouse was unremarkable, save for its size. While Elijah traversed its length, aiming for the stairs near the back, he kept his senses trained on his surroundings. Many of the women inside had taken refuge among the crates, where they obviously hoped he wouldn’t notice them.

  He did.

  But he ignored them all the same.

  Isaiah’s ball followed Elijah, with Gunnar bringing up the rear of their three-entity procession. Elijah wanted nothing more than to embrace Eternal Plague and kill everyone inside the warehouse, but for two reasons, he refrained. The first was the most obvious – he didn’t want to kill anyone unless necessary. But the second was far more impactful on his choice.

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  He needed to know just how far the conspiracy to kill him stretched. Was it limited to the Daughters? And if so, was the entire organization involved? Or just the branch headquartered in Seattle?

  So, he kept his spells to himself, even though his instincts told him to simply destroy his enemies and let the situation play out however it may. After all, he was a dragon. They were little more than insects beneath his feet.

  But as he’d seen in the Broken Crown, even insects could pose a threat. He’d watched swarms of vespirans, wasps, and drachnids destroy demi-god dragons. And it would be the height of hubris to assume he wasn’t vulnerable to just such an attack.

  He was strong. But numbers could overcome raw power.

  Because of that, he approached with some caution, reaching the stairs after only a few moments. Without hesitation, he mounted them, his feet clanging against the metal grates of the steps until he reached a catwalk that lined the right wall. Through Soul of the Wild, Elijah could feel the offices on the other side of that flimsy barrier.

  He made his way down the walkway, feeling the cold metal ridges against his bare feet. Then, he arrived at the appropriate door, as indicated by Isaiah’s spherical drone.

  After taking a breath, he opened the door and strode inside. He’d half expected an attack as soon as he entered the office, but there was nothing. Instead, he found himself standing over a slender woman with dark hair. Her complexion – and context clues – marked her as Greek, but she made no concessions to her ethnicity. Certainly, she wasn’t dressed any differently than most women in the Undercity. Just non-descript clothes suitable for manual labor.

  “Elijah Hart. Gunnar Lindstrom,” she intoned, her voice slightly raspy. Her eyes flicked to the drone. “Isaiah. So kind of you to visit.”

  She seemed entirely relaxed, though Elijah could sense her racing heartbeat.

  “You know me?” Isaiah asked through the drone, interpreting her familiar tone in the only way that made sense.

  “Of course. We met long ago, though I doubt you remember it,” she said. “I visited your city only a short while after the apocalypse. We spoke of trade.”

  Isaiah didn’t respond, which seemed to confirm that he didn’t recall the meeting. Not unsurprising, considering that the timeframe put it almost a decade in the past.

  “I don’t care about that. What I want to know is why you tried to have me killed,” Elijah stated.

  “I never expected you to die,” Desdemona said, leaning back in her chair. The girl on Gunnar’s shoulder squirmed. “Can you release my subordinate? She often frustrates me, but she is a good girl.”

  “No,” Gunnar stated.

  She sighed dramatically. “Suit yourself, but I have a long memory, Mr. Lindstrom.”

  “And a short life expectancy,” he countered.

  “I suppose it might seem that way to you.”

  Elijah cut in, “As much as I enjoy listening to you two trade barbs, I’m not here for that. Why did you hire Gunnar to kill me?”

  “That is a complicated question, Mr. Hart.”

  “I’ve got time for you to explain.”

  “So you do,” she said. “What do you expect here? Do you want me to go on a monologue like a bad movie villain?”

  “It would help,” Elijah answered. “Besides, it’s probably your only chance of survival.”

  “Oh, I don’t expect to live through this, Mr. Hart. Your reputation is well-earned.”

  “What about your people?” he asked, not bothering to dispute that he meant to kill her. Whether or not he did was irrelevant. She believed she was a dead woman, and nothing he could say or do would change that belief. But he suspected that she cared for her subordinates. “And I’m not just talking about the ones in this warehouse. I’m talking about your whole network. I don’t consider myself much of an investigator, but I’m very good at killing people.”

  “Of that, there is no doubt,” she said. “Easton’s fate is evidence enough. Bloodrock Bay as well. The unnamed settlement near that elven alchemist’s estate. Countless others have fallen to your vile efforts.”

  With every word, her tone became more venomous, suggesting that her anger was personal.

  And Elijah didn’t counter her accusations.

  “I’m not proud of any of that,” he admitted.

  “And yet your lack of pride does nothing to restore the innocent lives you so flippantly took,” she argued.

  “There was nothing flippant about any of those choices,” Elijah stated evenly. Indeed, even though he’d long since come to terms with his actions, he still had nightmares about the things he’d done. The lives he had taken.

  Did it matter that Easton had fallen not because of him killing Roman, but because it had been mismanaged from the very beginning? By releasing the political prisoners, he had provided the spark that had turned into a bonfire, but the city was doomed from the moment Roman had killed Alyssa. Probably before that.

  His actions in Bloodrock Bay were a little less defensible, but he justified it via the absolute certainty that, with it gone, the world had become a safer place. Innocents had died, but in the grand scheme of things, theirs was an acceptable sacrifice.

  And he hadn’t even killed the elves outside the Alchemist’s estate. That was Breeze’s doing.

  Even in his mind, those justifications sounded like excuses, though. So, he didn’t bother uttering them aloud.

  “I killed someone close to you, didn’t I?” he asked.

  The moment that question left Elijah’s mouth, she let out a chuckle. As she shook her head, she said, “You have no concept of the impact of your choices. You ask if you killed someone close to me?” She looked up, her eyes hard. “You took everything I hold dear, Mr. Hart. My son lived in Easton. My daughter was here, a member of the guild of adventurers you so flippantly slaughtered. Her name was Mariah. An Administrator. She should have been off-limits.”

  Elijah couldn’t even remember the guild leader’s name, so he couldn’t recall killing any non-combatants during that fight. However, that man had sacrificed his entire guild for a little bit of temporary power. So, it was likely that she had fallen to that nefarious ability, though Elijah didn’t know enough to say for certain.

  On the surface, that Elijah had been responsible for the deaths of two of her children – who lived so far apart – was a bit unbelievable. At least until he remembered that Easton had once been a suburb of Seattle. That proximity made it much more plausible.

  “And you wanted to hold me accountable? That’s why you tried to have me killed?” Elijah asked.

  “Of course not, Mr. Hart. You were just a tool. Using you brought joy to my heart. The idea of you suffering and authoring the downfall of Seattle was pleasing in a way you could never understand,” she stated. “But in the end, you were never my target. I am more than capable of pushing my personal feelings aside in the name of business.”

  “You were after Isaiah, then.”

  “Of course,” she answered. “I thought that was obvious. But then again, with how willingly you walked into my trap, I may have overestimated your mental acuity.”

  A moment later, something exploded outside, and a dense wave of ethera swept over Elijah.

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