Alyra slipped back into the school without a sound.

  The guards at the gate said nothing when they saw her. They simply stepped aside and let her through.

  She crossed the quiet courtyard and pushed open the main doors.

  The building slept under a blanket of stillness. Wide stone corridors caught the pale moonlight spilling through the tall windows. Shadows pooled beneath the vaulted ceilings, and the air carried the chill scent of wax and cold stone. Each step she took echoed upward, bouncing between the arches like the sound itself was trying to escape.

  It had been a dreadful night.

  Derek had offered to walk her back, but she had refused.

  His face, those blackened eyes, the murderous fury twisting his features as he lunged at that fool who had thrown a rock at him, kept flashing before her.

  Thank the gods no one in Rothmere knew what Death magic looked like.

  It was forbidden throughout the Church’s lands, and maybe that was why no one had noticed.

  She had seen Faela lose control the same way, so she had recognized it at once.

  Derek really had been touched by Death.

  Maybe Isabelle was right. She said that as a Cashnar, Derek bore Orbisar’s protection and would survive whatever came.

  But to Alyra he had looked mad, driven past reason. Pure luck he had snapped out of it before doing something he could never take back. Luck, too, that he hadn’t been wearing his armor at the time.

  Otherwise that man would be dead right now.

  “It’s begun, hasn’t it?” a voice called from the dark of the corridor.

  Alyra froze. Footsteps—soft, measured—moved closer. “Who’s there?”

  A figure stepped into the moonlight: silver hair spilling over her shoulders, gray eyes empty as river stones, a face drained of color.

  “Faela…” Alyra said, voice small. “What are you doing here this late?”

  “The Cashnar,” Faela answered, low and steady. “Death lives inside him.”

  Alyra’s forehead creased. “You knew?”

  “The Conclave of the Custodians knew. They saw Death in him when they met in Ebonshade.”

  “The hooded men?” Alyra’s words came out tight.

  Faela nodded and pointed at her. “You’re the one who gave the sphere that brought Death to the one you call Cashnar.”

  Alyra’s stomach clenched and rose to her throat. She lowered her eyes. “Yes. It was me. And now he’ll die because of it.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Alyra blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “That we of the Cult can save him. We can draw Death out of his body. Heal him.”

  Alyra shook her head. “It’s too late. During the Lantern Festival today, he went mad and almost killed a man. The magic has already poisoned his mind.”

  Faela’s pale face didn’t change. She only shook her head, slow and calm. “It’s not too late. Not for us.”

  Alyra’s pulse thudded in her ears. “You’d help him?”

  “If you agreed to join us willingly, yes. I would.”

  Alyra lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. “You’re asking a lot.”

  “You belong with us,” Faela said. “This isn’t a sacrifice. It’s your destiny.”

  Alyra’s fists tightened. She didn’t want to leave the school. Or Isabelle. Or Derek. But Derek was dying and she was the one who had given him that cursed sphere.

  Her fingers loosened. Her shoulders sagged. “All right. If you save Derek, I’ll go with you.”

  Faela bowed her head slightly. “It’s the right choice.”

  A shiver crawled down Alyra’s spine. “Do we leave now?”

  “No. You’ll stay at the school a while longer.”

  Alyra tilted her head. “Why?”

  “I’ve told you. We don’t want you to come unwillingly. You must be a guide for us, not a prisoner.”

  Alyra frowned. “I don’t understand. Then why ask me to come at all?”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Time.” Faela’s lips curved in a faint smile as she glanced toward the moonlit window. “It will take time. You’ll watch Derek healed by our hands. You’ll see it in the eyes of this city’s people, that you don’t belong here. Only then will you remember the promise you made tonight, and you’ll ask us to take you away.” She bowed her head slightly. “And then we’ll lead you to your destiny.”

  Alyra drew a steady breath.

  Time. She still had time to find another way, to save Derek. She nodded. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Just save him.”

  Faela bowed deeply. When she straightened, a faint smile lingered on her lips.

  “Where can I find him? It must be done now.”

  “He’s leaving on a mission,” Alyra said. “I think he’s back at the Citadel right now.”

  Faela’s fingers brushed her lips. “Oh…”

  Alyra’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “This complicates things. I can’t enter the Citadel. Do you know exactly where he’s going?”

  Alyra shook her head. “I only know it’s underground. Or at least, I think so…”

  Faela’s eyes widened slightly. “He’s going into the Citadel’s underground?”

  “I… I don’t know. I think so. Why?”

  “Because I can’t reach him down there. And even if he survives whatever waits for him below, by the time he returns, it’ll already be too late for us to help.”

  Alyra’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re saying he’s going to die?”

  “Without a doubt. I have to withdraw my offer to help him. I’m sorry, I thought we had more time.”

  Alyra’s breath caught. She couldn’t really be this unlucky. There had to be a way.

  The thought struck her like lightning on a clear day.

  It was insane, but it was all she had left.

  She stepped closer and placed a hand on Faela’s thin shoulder.

  “If I could get you to him—inside the Citadel—would you come with me? Could you help him then?”

  Faela went rigid. “I… yes, but I don’t see how—”

  “Sierelith!” Alyra shouted.

  Her voice cracked through the corridor, echoing like a hundred voices overlapping at once. Everyone was out celebrating the festival tonight, and a few stray echoes in the halls wouldn’t raise suspicion.

  She didn’t have a second to waste.

  A burst of violet smoke exploded between them.

  Faela nearly stumbled backward in shock.

  Alyra narrowed her eyes, waiting for the smoke to thin.

  A young woman took shape in the haze, arms crossed, wearing a toga that looked suspiciously borrowed from some teacher. Her lips curled into a pout, and emerald eyes flashed like lightning as she glared. “Forget it,” she hissed.

  Faela gaped at her. “And who is she?”

  Alyra clasped her hands together. “Please. You have to help us get into the Citadel and find Derek before the Death… well, kills him.”

  The newcomer rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, for crying out loud.” She planted her hands on her hips. “You think if I could waltz around the Citadel like I do here, I’d be wasting my time babysitting you brats?”

  Alyra’s stomach dropped. She lowered her gaze. This really was Derek’s last chance.

  “So you can’t do it?”

  Sierelith let out an exasperated huff. “I didn’t say that, I just—”

  Alyra straightened, pulse quickening. “So you can? You can get us to Derek before he leaves?”

  Sierelith stared at her for a long moment. Finally she sighed. “There are guards in the Citadel. Skilled warriors and scholars. Secrets inside my own father spent years trying to dig up without success.”

  Alyra nodded. “I understand. Sounds like a worthy challenge for someone like you.”

  A faint twitch passed over Sierelith’s cheekbone. “A challenge, yes. But if you’re willing to risk spending some quality time in the Citadel’s dungeons, we could try.” She tilted her head at them. “Just know, if things go bad, it’s every woman for herself.”

  Alyra nodded and turned to Faela.

  The pale cultist looked even thinner under the moonlight. She shifted, fingers worrying the hem of her sleeve. “Is this truly your will Alyra?”

  The Sprout nodded again, jaw set. She would burn that damned Citadel to the ground if it came to it.

  Faela sighed and bowed her head. “As you wish, then.”

  Alyra managed a faint smile, though her breathing stayed shallow.

  A Novice of Orbisar, a Cultist, and a heretic… madness. There was no way this could work.

  But there was no other choice.

  Only one: see it through.

  “Then let’s move,” she said finally. “I don’t know when he plans to leave, but after tonight’s incident, he seemed in a real hurry.”

  Derek slammed his fist against the door. NOVA’s armored knuckles carved deep grooves into the wood. “Erasmus! Come on, wake up!”

  “Derek?” Vanda’s voice chimed in his ear. “May I ask what you’re planning?”

  “No.”

  He hit the door again, harder this time. A splinter of wood shot off into the dark dormitory hallway. “Erasmus, open this door or I’ll open it for you!”

  Shuffling footsteps. Then the rattle of keys, a click, another click… a bolt sliding back, then another.

  Derek deployed the plasma cannons with a hiss. “Vanda, how many locks does this guy have left?”

  “Um… that should be almost all of them.”

  Something heavy scraped behind the door—maybe a beam—and then it cracked open a few inches.

  The disheveled archivist peeked out, brow furrowed, eyes squinting. His ornate embroidered robe barely clung to his bony frame.

  Unbelievably, a little chain was still latched across the door.

  Erasmus cleared his throat. “C–can I ask what’s happening at this hour of the night?”

  The moment he spotted the NOVA, his eyes went wide. He stumbled back and landed square on his backside.

  Derek pinched the chain between two armored fingers and yanked. It tore free of the wall and clattered somewhere down the hall.

  “Night?” Derek said. “Bit early to call it that. Some people just finished dinner.”

  He shoved the door; it swung open with a long, protesting creak.

  Erasmus still sat on the floor, staring up with eyes like saucers. His slippers had flown off somewhere in the chaos.

  Derek ducked his head to squeeze the NOVA through the doorway. “We need to talk.”

  “T–talk?”

  “Yeah, what’s weird about that?” Derek glanced down at himself. “Oh, right. You’re wondering why I’m using the NOVA just to talk.”

  The helmet hissed open, and he scratched his head. “I was in a hurry. Didn’t think about it.”

  “N–no… I’m actually wondering why you’re barging in at this hour.”

  “Ah, right. That.” Derek reached down, grabbed the man like a kid, and plunked him back on his feet. “Start getting dressed. We’ll talk on the way. Comfortable clothes, okay?”

  He gave him a once-over. “Come to think of it, I’ve only ever seen you in those fancy robes. You even own travel gear?”

  Erasmus blinked. “T–travel? What kind of travel?”

  He was going pale fast.

  Derek planted his hands on his hips and arched a brow. “What do you think?”

  The archivist’s eyes bulged. “You want us to go underground? Me, you… us…”

  His breathing quickened; one shaky hand pressed to his forehead like he’d come down with a fever. “Oh, by Orbisar…”

  Derek grinned. “Judging by the sweat on your brow and that corpse-like complexion, I’d say you get it. Yes. It’s me, you, Sunny, Shade, and Chuck.”

  Erasmus frowned. “And who exactly are these… others?”

  Yeah, no way he’d react well to learning his teammates were two bots and a golem. Derek decided to save that detail for later.

  “Get dressed. I’ll introduce the rest of the team soon.”

  “B–b–but why?!”

  It came out more as a wail than a question.

  Derek spread his arms. “I need your expertise, Erasmus. You’re the Citadel’s historian. You can read ancient runes, decipher inscriptions, and you know how to navigate these places.”

  The man shook his head violently. “I know how to navigate maps and drawings! Down there it’ll be dark, cold, and full of danger!”

  Derek grinned. “Come on… adventure awaits!” He clapped him on the shoulder with NOVA’s gauntlet.

  Erasmus staggered sideways like a reed in the wind, catching himself on the wall before he fell.

  “Oh, sorry,” Derek said. He still hadn’t recalibrated the NOVA’s strength after the latest upgrades; the actuators were overshooting again.

  “Anyway, it’s going to be a great adventure. You’ll finally get to see the wonders you’ve spent your life reading about in dusty tomes and half-erased scrolls.”

  The archivist rubbed his shoulder with a grimace. “I could give you all the documents if you want. The drawings and inscriptions are in my office. I could—”

  Derek waved a hand. “Doubt I’ll have time to read on this mission. Vanda could, but she’s staying up here with the NOVA. I’m not sure she can keep contact the whole way. Too much rock and soil might mess with the signal.”

  He shook his head. “Believe me, Erasmus, I’ve thought this through. You’re the only one who can make this mission work.”

  Derek’s grin widened. “If we find what I think we will, we could rewrite this planet’s history. Your name will go down in the books.” He scratched his beard. “Probably in smaller print next to mine, but still.”

  Erasmus opened his mouth to retort, then shut it again. “…at least wait outside while I change…” he muttered, defeated.

  Derek nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right here.” He ducked back into the hall.

  The moment he stepped out, Erasmus rushed to bolt the door again.

  Obviously, he was just going to pretend to get ready for the mission and then sneak out the window.

  Why else lock the door?

  He sighed. “Vanda?”

  “Yes?”

  “Got the Repair Bots and Chuck waiting under his window like I asked?”

  “They’re there and ready.”

  “Perfect. Then we’re good to go.”

  He strolled down the hallway, whistling, unfazed by the sleepy heads poking out of doorways to see what the noise was about.

  He smiled.

  Let them look.

  With any luck, he was about to begin the mission that would finally uncover the secret of the spheres.

  Maybe even find a Wardilai terminal capable of controlling them.

  History was about to be made on Elyndra.

  The more witnesses, the better.