44th of Season of Air, 59th year of the 32nd cycle

  Sage’s City spread in all directions like a giant white monster, its titanic maw waiting to snap and devour countless cultivators touring the place. Newt and his fellow disciples walked with their backs straight, heads held high, displaying the prestige and honor of the sect recently commended by the emperor herself.

  Newt maintained the ridiculous, haughty stance, fighting the unnerving feeling scratching at his hind brain. The buildings all around them were not made of stone. No. The entire city, every flagstone, block, and building, all of it was fashioned from bone.

  Newt followed Elder Woodhopper, their official guardian, and he knew their sect master was somewhere close by. The man revealed himself only when they first entered the airship, but he told the disciples he would cheer for them.

  Elder Woodhopper took another right. She passed beneath an arch sculpted like two white grappling gargoyles and entered a wide boulevard. Shops lined both sides of the streets. Restaurants and tea parlors settled between weapon, armor, and alchemy shops. Everything was for sale in the city of bone, including man-sized mannequins which moved autonomously and followed simple commands.

  Each shop was a lavish work of art, their walls and doors covered in carvings, their display windows with glass clearer than mountain streams advertised their goods and wealth better than any hawker, which were completely missing in the wide streets.

  Newt found the sight strange. No hawkers, no stalls, and hardly any sound beyond the drone birthed by hundreds of mouths speaking in hushed voices. And before them, an outline of a huge colosseum loomed in the distance. As they approached it, the massive structure grew into a mind-boggling behemoth.

  “The grand colosseum can fit half a million viewers,” Elder Woodhopper said. “And while the event will take place inside a secret realm, spell formations will project the scenes across the city, including the grand arena. There should be a list of all independent cultivators and members of small sects who won access to the Sage’s Realm.”

  Newt wondered whether Dandelion had joined, the top prizes were certainly worth his big brother’s time, but the competition was tough. As they approached the colosseum, Newt’s question answered itself. Three twenty-foot-tall portraits hung from the walls.

  Newt did not recognize the woman on the right nor the man on the left, but dead center stood Dandelion’s face, flashing him a friendly, confident smile. Above stood the words: “Independant champions 59. 32.”

  “A decent artist, but failed to catch the teeth right,” Dandelion said, and Newt thought himself insane, hearing the portrait speak.

  “My little brother is ignoring me, I feel like someone plunged a sword in my gut, and trust me, I know how that feels.” This time, Newt realized the voice was coming from his left.

  He turned, and there his big brother was, arms folded, maintaining the same pose as in the painting, his winning smile indeed better in real life than on the giant canvas.

  “Big Brother!” Newt rushed to him, wanted to hug him, but then bowed respectfully. “Thank you for saving my life. If not for you, Sect Master never would have found me in time.”

  “Relax; why so stiff? I told you I would help with anything as long as the matter is within my power.”

  Newt did not know what else to say. Persisting could make matters awkward.

  “So, you’re the champion?”

  “Is this a friend of yours, Newstar?” Elder Woodhopper appeared beside him, and Newt blushed.

  “This is Dandelion. My big brother, friend, and benefactor.” He gestured towards Dandelion before introducing the elder.

  Dandelion bowed, then gave Newt a long meaningful look, making the youth gulp.

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  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Elder Woodhopper. I just wanted to greet my little brother and check how he is doing. Good luck to you and your disciples, the competition will be fierce tomorrow. After all, you are competing against me.” He winked at Newt.

  “Big Brother Dandelion,” a melodious feminine voice rang out, and Newt turned, staring in shock. A beautiful young woman with ocean-blue hair wearing deep blue robes came running through the crowd.

  “Maelstrom,” Dandelion exclaimed. “Fancy meeting you here. Come, let me introduce you to my brother. Newstar, this is Maelstrom, she is from the Tidebreaker Abyss, greatly interested in smithing, artificing, and breaking spirit beast necks; Maelstrom, this is Newstar of the Explorer’s Gate, a spell formation master and a gentle soul, unlike you.”

  The woman placed her fists on her hips and pouted. “That’s no way to introduce a lady.”

  “But it is a perfectly acceptable manner to introduce you.” Dandelion smiled, and Maelstrom giggled before facing Newt.

  “You must be very talented for Big Brother to call you a master of anything.” The girl first beamed, then lowered her voice and shot frowns at Dandelion. “Did you hear him saying I was interested in smithing and artificing? I’m the best amongst all third-realmers, and there’s not a fourth-realmer in my sect who can match my talent.”

  Newt nodded, completely confused, and the girl grabbed his sleeve.

  “Come, let’s share a couple drinks and gossip about this good-for-nothing.”

  Newt cast a pleading glance Dandelion’s way, but the man simply grinned like a tyrannosaurus. When Newt looked at Elder Woodhopper, the woman obviously wanted to stop them, but her mouth betrayed her.

  “We’re staying at the Starlit Sky inn. Make sure to return before midnight, the tournament is tomorrow.”

  She waited for the youths to leave earshot, then turned towards Dandelion. “Was that the Tidebreaker Abyss’s young lady?”

  Dandelion nodded. “The sect leader’s granddaughter and heir apparent, there is a very public prophecy about her.”

  “She will break the ocean, befriend the inner heaven, and wed the sun.”

  “I see you are familiar with it. Grand sects have very poetic astrologers, do they not?”

  ***

  Unaware of the conversation between Dandelion and Woodhopper, Maelstrom dragged Newt across the square towards the nearest wine parlor. The chairs were bejeweled, the table they took decorated with gold leaf.

  “Do you drink?” she asked, and Newt shook his head.

  “A cup of Lesemian fruit-wine for the little girl, and a bottle of Terrasian red for me,” she told the waiter as he approached, and the man turned around without a word.

  “So, tell me, how did you meet Dandelion? How come you don’t drink? You seem old enough?” The young woman assaulted Newt with a barrage of questions, and while he searched for answers, an embarrassing memory came to him. Dandelion, sitting in his office back at Black Fist Gate, drinking tea, and telling Newt his best friend and fiancee was a whore.

  “A blush!” Maelstrom leaned over conspiratorially. “Ooh, this is gonna be good? What did you do?”

  “Nothing, I was born close to his old sect, and one day I went there because I heard false rumors. I wanted to play the hero, but ended up embarrassing myself. Luckily, Big Brother didn’t hold it against me. We cooperated several times; I guarded him, and he saved me, and there’s hardly anyone in the world I care about more than him.”

  The last sentence escaped Newt’s mouth, but as he considered it, he knew it was true. Dandelion was probably in his five most important people in the world. In fact, he was right behind his parents.

  If I had to choose between Father and Dandelion, who would I choose? Newt considered the question, and the answer seemed unfilial.

  Maelstrom leaned back, disappointed by Newt’s boring answer, but she nodded. “Yes, he has that whole larger-than-life feel, like he can do anything, and he can do it as easily as breathing. You know, he annoyed me once while we were drinking, and, half-drunk, I ordered my attendant to beat him up. She was at the peak of the fourth realm, and he was merely at the seventh layer of the third, I think. He knocked her out with a fist to the chin like it was nothing. One moment she stood, the next she was out cold, lying on the floor, and he didn’t even pause his drinking.”

  Maelstrom chortled as the waiter brought them their drinks; a bowl of fruit-wine, which smelled like all the blessings of the cornucopia, and a black bottle sealed in wax. The man moved to open it, but Maelstrom sent him away with a wave of her hand.

  “With my attendant knocked out, the elder watching over me appeared in the inn. He looked at Dandelion, and do you know what Dandelion said?”

  Newt shook his head, and Maelstrom opened the bottle with a flick of her hand and a flare of water energy.

  “He looked a ninth realm cultivator straight in the eye, pointed at me, and said: ‘She started it.’”

  Maelstrom giggled as she poured herself a glass of wine the color of blood.

  “Now, I think I was mildly drunk, and the way he pointed at me like a three-year-old was so funny I just burst into laughter. I think we broke Uncle Hellblade. I’ve never seen him so confused.”