I stood near the edge, centering myself one breath at a time.

  Sovina shot me a warning glare. “If you are behind these Dead—”

  “I am not.”

  “And if you are, I’ll gut you like the creature you are.” She focused ahead, lifting a freshly lit torch to reveal the entrance to a tunnel.

  I watched her for a moment. Though frustrating, it would be wise to play the appeasing role. “I understand your suspicions. But it wouldn’t be in my interest to risk an attack upon all of you, even if I was capable of such a feat in my state.”

  She didn’t respond, just carried forward, continuing into the darkened hall, quickly picking up into a run. The other woman—whose relation to Sovina I had not yet placed—nodded forward. “This passageway aims to drain you. We should carry through quickly.”

  “I see.” I picked up my pace to jog, though it was excruciating. The pain from each step before was multiplied, carrying through my whole body and striking at my temple like a hammer to a piece of red iron. Sparks flying. Oh, the sparks, how they blinded. Seared. Scored deep grooves of ashen holes into my mind. Hammering out what? Was there a shape to this emptiness?

  In those holes, whispers. Memories. Long nights spent staring into the sky, past the sky. Above, where the stuff of higher consciousness faded, warped, dispersed. Where I wanted to reach, what I tried to understand. But that dream had been pulled from its burning hovel and had its throat cut, fallen to dirt to see its blood pool, wet and warm to the cheek. Yes, reality had no room for such high ambitions. It was a cruel, desolate place one should fear. Hate.

  I blinked. What had she said about this hall? I stumbled forward, mind reeling, everything spinning, swimming. Falling. I could not resist, weak as I was. My Corrupted blood burned cold under my flesh, lit with invasive Sorcery, pulling me away.

  Before the Grand Observatory. Before the wars and my armies of Dead and the screams of soldiers as they were torn apart. Long ago. Decades ago. The grassy hillsides above the coast, ocean blue and deep and flat as glass. Sun rays upon my face. You’re destined for great things, Demetria had said, my love, my heart. I see it, even if you don’t. She looked from the waves to the city. Of white walls reaching high and docks thrusting far into the sea, the noise of it only audible with the shifting of the wind. A thing as faint as a memory. Memory. Why was I here again? They will love you, Daecinus. And you will protect them. I see it now, even if you don’t. You will be their savior. That’s who you are. That’s what you are. The feeling of her lips on my skin, her wonderful violet eyes staring up at me, into me. No one had ever looked at me with such longing, with such care. There was nowhere I’d rather be than in her arms. If there was one truth, it was this.

  “No,” I muttered, the distant sensation of my burning skin and creaking bones filtering through. “No, you’re dead, a skeleton in the ground. And I razed cities in your wake.” I pulled myself from the soft grass and the warm sky and back to the cold of the dark, lonely tunnel where the truth was loss and death.

  I’d been standing still, swaying slightly. With some effort, my feet began moving again. These old memories are now ancient things of myth. And this place will not keep me there. I won’t allow it.

  Soon, I was before a stone door as tall and wide as a fortress gate, carved with symbols I recognized but couldn’t quite place. A language? Not exactly, not one I knew anyway.

  “What land is this from?” I asked Sovina and the other woman, who were both already there, watching me emerge from the dark.

  “What do you mean?” Sovina asked.

  The other one gestured to the carvings. “The Floating Cities were part of Vasia, long ago.”

  “Vasian,” I muttered, letting the word slide over his tongue. “And they own this place? They captured me?”

  “They did own it. Now, it is abandoned. A Ruin—what was once a Wonder, abandoned and lost, liable to corrupting forces of Death and Dead. I cannot speak on your capture, however. I simply do not know.”

  I was about to ask for a specific set of dates when Sovina interjected. “We need to get through this door, Sorcerer, but there’s Dead on the other side. Many of them. And I don’t know if Feia can handle opening it again, so that means you’ll have to do it.”

  “Just to die upon escaping? I think not.”

  “You can die here if that’s your wish.”

  “Hey!” a voice called from behind. We turned and found the warriors approaching from the dark, torchlights faint things against the shadows. The leader pointed his blade at Sovina. “Enough of that. We’re getting out of here, and that means no threats against our new friend, yeah? Cut out his heart on your own time, thank you.”

  I turned on the two women. “You intended on taking my heart? What use is it to your gods?”

  The younger one raised her chin, looking very much a zealot. “I could have had it done earlier. Should I have?”

  “Again,” the leader said, “on your own time. Now, grey man, you got a trick for opening this door figured out? It’s the only way out, as far as I know.”

  I didn’t take my eyes off the zealot. “I can do it. But I hear there are numerous Dead on the other side.”

  “About that. We were hoping you had a trick or two to deal with them too.”

  “I am awoken from a stasis begun by your people, threatened, and forced to save you all without any assurances to my life beyond the confines of this city?”

  “Seems you’ve got the measure of it. Except you’ve one thing wrong.” He strode forward, interposing himself between me and the women. “They’re not my people. Get us out of this shit hole, and we’ll keep the Column-sworn off your back.”

  “And what of your god Raizak?”

  He shrugged. “Never did a thing for me.”

  The zealot stepped forward, voice raised. “The Enlightened Folly sacrificed himself—”

  “Quiet,” hissed out a man further back. He turned and raised a bow, aiming into the tunnel. Nifont, then. “They’re coming. We must hurry.”

  “Alright then,” the leader said, patting me on the shoulder. “Time to save your rescuers, eh?”

  I spared the warrior a glance. Old to be carrying a blade into battle but young by my standards; in many ways, he looked more a ruffian than a true soldier. But there was something steely under his fa?ade of carelessness, something appraising. Dangerous, calculating. He’s not above lying and cheating to come out on top. That made him treacherous but also predictable and, thus, reliable if one knew how to grasp his self-interest. “Very well.”

  I let the rebellious flow of Sorcery imbued in the great stone door flow through me. Like all magic since I’d awoken, it was twisting and turbulent, and, if I focused closely enough, almost… diseased. As if the very essence of it was Corrupted, half-broken. The door itself was a complex series of mechanisms designed to prevent anyone but Sorcerers from entering, which was bold, given the number of casters in Pethya who would slaughter entire cities to see me free. They must have been blackmailed or otherwise threatened into obedience. But that implied something disastrous. Now’s not the time. Right. I wove the strands of unstable Sorcery through the carved channels of foreign script. As I bent the power of magic to my will, I felt my side hiss in response. Nothing extreme, hopefully nothing permanent, but it was painful. All the while, the screams of the unclaimed Dead grew closer from behind. But the door wasn’t responding.

  “A trap,” I muttered through a grim smile. “I would not think you should have been able to bypass this ward.”

  “I called upon Spirits,” the Sorceress named Feia muttered. “But they were protesting… I should have known.”

  “A reasonable error.” I focused on the innate, bound lower Souls this time, ignoring the rather exquisite attachment of higher consciousness. With gritted teeth and red-flaring eyes, I gripped hold of the innate Sorcery and tore it out, aiming to punch through the whole construction by imploding the very core of the delicate Soul workings. And soon, as the Dead behind had to be but a few dozen strides away, drawn to our life essence, the stone slab cracked. I pushed, fighting through the pain, with the pain, until the cracks spread, each splitting, growing into a spiderwebbed array, a mosaic of shattering Sorcery, of loosed Souls. And then I pushed.

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  The door exploded, muted screams of bound Souls dissipating like steam from a quenched blade. The stone chunks blasted out into the next room, crushing a waiting line of Dead. By a glance, mere Fleshwalkers interspersed with occasional Reavers, that old Pethyan mistake. Or breakthrough, depending on the practitioner. Regardless, stone ripped through them all. What was left in the stirring dust were only a few Fleshwalkers rising from the ground with grievous wounds that wouldn’t register to their senseless minds.

  “Move!” the leader bellowed, breaking into a sprint, cutting right through the carnage.

  I followed suit but immediately stumbled, collapsing to the ground as my left leg gave way, the pain too great, the old aches too overwhelming. I groaned and pushed myself up, dust coating my rotten robes, a thin trail of blood swinging from my lip. A taste of iron in the mouth. Of death.

  “Come now, Speaker of Souls,” Feia said, lifting me. Her own face was pale, eyes red with broken blood vessels. “Let’s not feed the hungry Dead of this crypt-city.”

  I tried not to lean on her too much, for she clearly had drunk too deeply on the flow of death with the cursed door earlier. Together, we limped forward at an unsteady jog. The warriors around kept pace, cutting down any staggering Dead who got too close. These ‘Column-sworn’ were already near the next exit, watching me. Their eyes were hungry, weren’t they? They wanted my heart. They wanted to finish the job their predecessors started.

  I ground my teeth and kept forward.

  If they wanted to try, let them.

  …

  Her holy objective was wincing in pain as he stumbled and limped. When she’d begun her quest, Emalia envisioned a monster of necromancy and old Sorcery awaiting her inside the floating city of Rotaalan. But this was a man. Ancient and strange, perhaps, but a man nonetheless. Sovina was loyal enough to obey her hesitance, even though Emalia knew her companion wanted to kill him and be done with it. Was that the right call? If it weren’t for the danger of his Sorcery, perhaps. By the gods, her own visions pointed to it! But something else just felt… wrong. She was no killer. No monster. How could she just ignore that voice of humanity and reason? And she had to listen to her intuition. It had led her towards Raizak—it would lead her through this conundrum as well.

  “How long is this fucking tunnel?” Oskar groaned out from behind.

  Her response was automatic, “A quarter mile, sloped, with a total descent of sixty feet. The exit should be approaching soon.”

  “Any hidden riches down here? Or just more traps filled with corpses?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Ah right. Perhaps.”

  Soon enough, they emerged into the afternoon light of the city from the structure above the outer entrance. The skeletons watched her as she went past, eying her with amused condescension. Even in success, she failed. Ivory, sardonic grins—all of them.

  As the others filtered out of the small stone structure, Sovina pulled her to the side. Her features were taught with exertion and wariness, but it hardly distracted from her disarming stare, so close, so focused on Emalia. “I’ll follow you into the wastes against any danger, any uncertainty, you know that. We’re sworn to each other. I don’t take that lightly. But are you sure about this?” Arms crossed, she leaned back and glanced at the strange man. “Even if we put aside the question of Raizak… I know you’ll never forgive yourself for this. And if we let him leave with them, he’s slipping away forever.”

  “I know, I just…” She licked her lips, looking for the right words to say. “But he’s just a man, Sovina. One in pain. One who’s lost. How can we kill him? Even if for Raizak, it’s still murder.”

  “It’s a sacrifice. The nature of it is violent.”

  “I left the Column to do good. For Raizak, yes, but also for the world. The people in it.”

  Sovina nodded, arms relaxing to her sides. “And we can’t do any good from Nova, locked away in there, I know. I’ve always felt the same way.” She gave a crooked smile. “Something of a blunder pairing us together, wasn’t it?”

  She shared a smile with her friend. “I suppose so.”

  “So what’ll it be then?”

  Emalia looked over to the other group with the grey man at its center, kneeling, taking deep breaths. He met her gaze, steady eyes the color of blood. What was behind those eyes? Humanity? Hatred? She didn’t know. But she intended on finding out. “We’ll follow them,” she said finally. “Or, perhaps, they’ll follow us. Raizak told me of other important artifacts to gather for his return. We’ll pursue those.”

  “And you think they’ll join? A bunch of brigands?”

  “After the jewels they pocketed, they will be interested.”

  “Hm.” She rubbed her chin, then inspected some crusted blood under her nails before turning her piercing gaze to Emalia. “I’m with you, but only if you’re sure. No halfway measures.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay then. And about earlier… When he had the knife… I’ll do better next time.”

  “It’s fine, Sovina. There’s nothing we could do, outnumbered as we were. Still, you were wonderful.”

  “I… Well, thank you. I’m sorry nonetheless.”

  Emalia took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. When she felt Sovina was okay, she took a deep breath and strode over to the other group. They all turned and looked at her, the hurt few still nursing wounds as others cleaned blades and readjusted equipment. The grey man stood, still slightly hunched but taller than everyone by a fair margin. Feia was beside him, swishing water in her mouth before spitting it on the ground. It was red with blood.

  “Well, what is it going to be?” Oskar asked, sliding his sword into its scabbard with a tired sigh. He nodded to Sovina. “Because I’d urge you not to draw that saber of yours, no matter how fancy it is.”

  “I have a proposal,” Emalia said.

  “Oh?”

  She adjusted the pin of her purple cloak to stop her hands from trembling. “I have other locations to visit, relics to secure in Raizak’s name. Places with wealth and opportunity. And less danger than here. It would be mutually beneficial to travel together. You could use my knowledge, and I would benefit from the protection of your group.”

  “You think I’d want to follow you after losing two of my men to this shit hole?” His eyes narrowed. “Besides, I know you’ve plans for our new friend here. And these days, what the Column wants, I estimate it’s a good notion not to let ‘em have it.”

  “First of all, the Column doesn’t even know I am here. They likely think me dead. And second, I’ve decided to wait and come to understand this directive further.”

  “Oh, and what do you make of that?” he asked, turning to the Sorcerer.

  He had been watching her, eyes sharp like blades, missing nothing, catching everything. “The devout are a dangerous breed. When set on a path they believe is holy, all else lacks worth. If my life is their godly sacrifice, I am hesitant to permit their existence. It would be safer to kill them than let them hunt me.”

  “My, he’s a harsh one, isn’t he?” Oskar asked, eyebrows high, but his lips were set firm and gaze a hard one. “Buuut, he’s got a good point. Best to be practical in times like these, you see. And, I do have to say, one powerful Sorcerer versus a priestess and her guardian… Well, you can see my hesitance.”

  Sovina tensed beside her, but Emalia pushed forward anyway, looking deep into the strange, ancient man’s red eyes. “What’s your name?”

  “Why should I reveal it?”

  “Because I am trying to see you as the person you are so I can understand why my visions have led me here.” She licked her lips, looking for the right words. Not just the persuasive rhetoric from her books but also the honest ones. “I am not an executioner. I bring back old wisdom and try to reveal truths we forgot we knew. I am a disciple of Raizak, of knowledge and rebellion for the greater good. Even if that means going against his directive to understand the truth… Even then. That is the charge I carry in his name.”

  “Knowledge,” he nearly whispered, fire in the word, “a truly just pursuit. But my work was ended when I was attacked and bound. When Vasia broke their truce, it would seem.” The anger faded, replaced by something quiet, something mournful. “If you are a chronicler of history and old knowledge, then help me understand what happened. Do this, and I will trust you.”

  A worthy cause, she thought. A holy one. “Very well. I swear upon Raizak’s name I will help you.”

  “Swear I will come to no harm by you or your friend’s hand.”

  “I cannot do that.”

  “Then it seems we are at an impasse.”

  Sovina stepped forward. “What if we promise not to harm you until you find the answers you’re looking for.” She glanced to Emalia, looking for approval, who nodded in acquiescence.

  He pondered that for a moment, then stood up straight and tall. “Very well, I will agree to such a bargain, risky as it may be. I am Daecinus Aspartes of Pethya,” he said. “Magistros of Sorcery, Lord of the Grand Observatory.”

  Pethya? She cocked her head. Had she heard that name before? And Magistros? What sort of title was that? Not to mention the Grand Observatory, which sounded entirely artificial to her. Just how old is he? “My name is Emalia. I am a priestess of the Column—or was, at least. I now serve Raizak along with my partner and protector, Sovina.”

  “I have one question before we leave. One that your knowledge would be of great value in resolving.”

  She opened her arms. “Ask.”

  “I watched my sister die during the attack, but perhaps she survived as I did…” he trailed off, staring away. “It was mentioned this was one of two cities suspended in the air. Could the other hold my sister? Could she still live?”

  Emalia’s jaw fell open. Of course! If a Sorcerer was used to fuel one city, then it is reasonable to assume to the same with the other. And yet, the thought was not a comforting one. “The city of Elansk has been underwater for over a hundred years. If she was there… Daecinus, I am sorry.”

  “Perhaps, like I, she was sustained by the Sorcerous inputs and still lives?” He turned away from them all, facing the sea. “But she would still require air, which necessitates waterproofing. Impossible. And water is a natural dampener to Soul transference and harnessing… Has there been mention of a woman who looks like me? A strong Sorcerer who may have escaped?”

  “I don’t know. We have had many Sorcerers, alone or otherwise, not associated with Vasia, who have dotted the chronicles in the past few centuries. I’ve read nothing that matches such descriptions. It’s possible she lives, but—”

  “It is not likely. And if so, you would be unable to locate her.” His shoulders did not slump, nor did he shake with the racking of tears, which surprised her. But there was sorrow in his posture, a distance in his bearing. At that moment, even more than before, he seemed too human to even imagine killing, no matter how important the ritual.

  “I’m sorry, Daecinus.”

  They stood there for a few breaths, the wind the only sound up upon the isolated, abandoned falling city.

  Oskar put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. “We can’t stay up here forever. We need to get headed down. It’s getting late. There will be more biters up and about soon.”

  Emalia nodded. “Then we can make to your camp in preparation for the journey ahead.”

  “Woah there. Just because we fought together doesn’t mean we’re going after these relics of yours. If you three want to go together and quest about, you’re—”

  Emalia interrupted. “The wealth here is but a fragment of what can be found in Drazivaska.”

  “Drazivaska? With the broken bloody portal? That’s your great pitch?”

  “There are relics Drazivaska’s keep. Riches too. And I know a way inside.”

  “Filled with more Dead, I imagine.”

  “Less. Recent reports show it’s almost vacant, though fear still keeps most away,” she said, looking out to the afternoon sun. “Now, why don’t we discuss this back upon solid ground? The day’s light is fading, and I trust you’ll agree with my proposition anyway.”

  The man grumbled and sighed but ultimately gave in, joining Sovina as they led the way back to the large chain connecting Rotalaan to the earth. Emalia watched them go, then turned to Daecinus and nodded. Yes, knowledge, that felt right.