The sound of bones breaking was deafening.

  Drops of blood splashed against the ground, some even flying toward the distant, silent crowd, tamed into cowardice by the promise of death. Helvan did not blame them—not many would look death in the eye and give it a bloody smile. Unlike Aiden.

  Perhaps I was wrong. The boy’s crazier than his father.

  Helvan watched, mingling with the crowd, though his height surpassed a miner’s. Nobody noticed his presence; everyone was too busy staring wide-eyed as one of their own, no more than a child, was savagely beaten.

  Pathetic.

  Ever since the rebellion in the first district, their fire and will to live seemed to have been bred out completely. Helvan thought it was a shame, but also unavoidable, for a regular miner had no way of facing the might of a Sovran, much less an Empyrean who wielded blood magic.

  Once a resident of Elysium, with Sovran blood running through their veins, had their soul heightened to the Six Paths, they were no longer human. The arcane changed someone like an irreversible tide. Those who resisted that force soon met death.

  Helvan glanced at the pair of headless bodies lying, forever silent, on the pale stone floor.

  The Sovran, an Empyrean of the Blood Path, knelt in front of Korvax’s son, his hand gripping the boy’s neck as if to choke the last strands of life from his puny body. The boy might have some guts, but it was nothing but anger. Helvan doubted if Aiden would ever raise his hand against a Sovran, even if given the means to fight.

  He reeked of fear.

  He might be one of Korvax’s sons, but he is not the one I’m looking for. What a waste of time. I’ll have to get the ring back.

  Helvan readied himself to leave for another Catalyst District when something changed in the boy. A shiver rang through his core, loud as the evening bell, strong as the current of wind that whistled silently.

  It… can’t be. Helvan infused his body with hexion.

  The sensation was subtle, enough to escape the notice of most Empyreans—even those trained by the Magisterium Arcana, such as Travor and Corvanis. But Helvan had passed that threshold centuries ago.

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  Aiden cackled as the Sovran in front of him fell to his knees, a guttural howl ripping from the depths of his lungs. He thrashed on the ground, his hands clawing at his chest and tearing the white uniform from his muscular frame. His nails dug deeply into his skin, carving bloody trenches from one side of his ribs to his neck.

  By the Fallen God, there’s no mistake. That has to be a Providence. But to awaken it without being heightened… it’s unpredictable. It won’t synchronize well to his path… but maybe that’s what Korvax was looking for. Helvan let the hexion inside his astra form into an Art.

  Did you see this all along, Korvax?

  The screaming stopped. Travor took a knee, inspecting his chest. There were no wounds except those he had inflicted on himself. “What?” He breathed raggedly. “Huh?”

  The Sovran gathered himself, closing his eyes. Helvan sensed the hexion being used. The amateur doesn’t even have his astra properly shielded. Nevertheless, the wounds on his chest closed in less than a minute. A Greater Reverence wasted in these caves.

  “What did you do?” The fool's voice carried more panic than command, heedless of those who overheard.

  Aiden had long since lost consciousness.

  “Answer me, ratling!” Travor kicked Aiden’s limp body.

  “Forget it, Travor. We’ll know after the Evoker arrives.” Corvanis watched the boy with wary eyes.

  Red mist congealed into Travor’s hand, shaping itself into a curved blade made of blood. The blade descended toward Aiden’s exposed neck with the speed of an arrow in flight, trailing a red blur that cut the air in an inaudible whistle.

  Chronos Domain unfolded from within Helvan’s astra, the core of his power, as the Art slowed the natural flow of time to a crawl. The blade froze mid-strike. Everything stopped. Pain almost made the elderly Sovran release the technique—it was too soon after his incurred wounds. But he had no other choice.

  Years ago, the two Sovrans standing on the dais would have posed no more threat to him than miners. Oh, time erodes all things. Now, were he to fight them, Helvan suspected he would lose.

  Helvan walked through the crowd in quick strides, careful not to touch anyone lest the burden of his Chronos Domain would become too much to bear. With a single leap, he landed on the dais in front of the boy, breaking the chains restraining Aiden with his bare hands.

  Thank the Fallen God you’re unconscious, boy. Helvan threw the blood-soaked child over his shoulder, sighing in relief as the boy’s dormant will did not conflict with Chronos Domain’s influence.

  Without another thought, Helvan mustered all his strength and ran. His Art was on the brink of failing, and if he was still in sight when that happened, they would both die.