He awoke in darkness to the creaking hull of a boat. His head felt as if it had been hit with a hammer. A groan escaped his throat. The floor below him rolled, making it hard to sit up.

  No, not the floor. Deck. Rough wood ran beneath his numbed fingers. What was he doing here? He bit back the scream that wanted to tear from his throat. He fumbled along the curved bulwark of the ship. The surface under his hands was cold as ice. For good reason—centimeters on the other side was the wintry Ocean of Storms, almost certainly laden with copious icebergs as the sea was freezing over.

  They were taking him out to sea now?

  It was impossible to tell how much time had elapsed since the Trial review. All he knew was that it was dark, and it was cold. The only light came from a crack in what had to be a door. A shadow blocked part of the light. A person standing guard?

  Whatever the case, he was here. And there were eight of them, and one of him, and his magic was blocked.

  Not just long odds, but impossible odds. And even if he managed something, he would find himself in the middle of the icy ocean. But he had to try something because if this was happening, there was only one outcome.

  And Lucian did not want to go to Psyche.

  Feeling his way around a bit, he realized he wasn’t in one of the cabins. A cargo hold, maybe, or a sequestered space within the cargo hold. His area was small, though larger than the brig on board the Burung.

  “You awake?” The voice was muffled through the door. Lucian couldn’t tell who it was, but for some reason, he thought it might be Psion Gaius.

  “I’m here,” he said. "Who are you?”

  The door opened, much to Lucian’s surprise, revealing a white-robed figure holding an oil lamp. It was Gaius, then. While the light emitted was dim, it was blinding to Lucian’s eyes. He threw up a hand to block the aura as Gaius approached, scraping a crate from nearby to sit on. As Lucian’s eyes adjusted, he could make out two more shadows in the corridor beyond the open door. No chance of escape, then.

  Gaius set the lamp down and regarded Lucian in silence.

  Lucian straightened himself so he could address his captor on somewhat equal terms. “Why are you doing this?”

  Gaius turned his head, nodding to the two figures in the corridor beyond. They withdrew.

  “A bit risky to be alone with a dangerous individual like me,” Lucian said.

  “You are dangerous,” Gaius said coolly. “Make no mistake. Trust me, it never gives us pleasure to do this.”

  Lucian had trouble believing this was reality. “Where are we going? I’m clearly on Lightsail. What is this Isle of Madness?”

  Gaius looked at him, his face incredulous. “You didn’t see this coming, did you? This wasn’t the end I imagined for you. I can help you make sense of it. It’s the least I can do.”

  Lucian bit back the pithy remark that had been forming on his lips. This might be his only shot at understanding what was happening and why. He couldn’t squander it. So, he nodded and remained silent.

  “Usually when a mage is exiled, it’s because they don’t have enough talent,” Gaius began. “In your case, it’s the opposite. They fear you, Lucian. And if you give them signs that you can’t be controlled, they mean to destroy you before you can ever become a threat.”

  The idea was ridiculous. “What do you mean, they fear me? My only crime was progressing too quickly?”

  “In a way. They might have permitted that, had you played their game.” He seemed to think a bit before continuing. “Transcend White lets me into her counsels. She told me as much before making the decision. She was hesitant about accepting you in the first place, as I’m sure you remember. You knew you were facing a mountain from the very beginning. All Novices do, of course, but yours was twice as high and thrice as treacherous. Worse, this was not told to you outright and could only be discerned from subtle clues.” He shrugged. “The purported reason for your exile is your abuse of the Manifold in the Trials. But of course, that’s not the real reason. You had a choice—seven choices if we’re including Transcends Red and Gray, who might have accepted you had you shown initiative.”

  Lucian watched Gaius’s stubbled face and square jaw, profiled by the dim lamplight. The Psion wore an amused smile.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Seven choices and you told them your answer loud and clear with your silence.” He chuckled. “The Psions must escort exiles to the Isle of Madness, where they await transport to Psyche. Usually, only one or two is all it takes. The Transcends saw fit to use all they could spare. Your one chance was committing yourself to an Aspect early. By doing so, you would have fallen under that Transcend’s protection. And they would have guarded you, quite jealously. But if you would have none of them, then none had a reason to protect you.”

  “The Transcends are supposed to be above such pettiness,” Lucian said. “What did I do, wound their pride?”

  “No,” Gaius said. “As a practical matter, they don’t see a place for you anymore. They are . . . cognizant of the dangers represented by a mage with as much potential as you. Long ago, they chose to cultivate someone of similar ability who refused to play their games.” Gaius shook his head. “It didn’t turn out well. For anyone.”

  “I know,” Lucian said. “Vera. Transcend White’s twin.”

  From Gaius’s lack of surprise, it was clear he knew about her. He wasn’t lying about being deep in his Transcend’s counsels.

  “No, Lucian. Xara Mallis . . . Vera’s Psion.”

  The words Gaius spoke seemed to be a different language. Xara Mallis had been Vera’s Psion? What had happened sixty years ago at the Volsung Academy? Had Vera been a Transcend then, along with her sister? And did Vera leave with Xara to lead the Starsea Mages in the war six decades ago?

  “I’m not like Xara Mallis,” Lucian said, feeling lightheaded at such a revelation. “That can’t be the reason. Can it?”

  “You don’t think so? Once upon a time, I would have agreed with you. But the days are dark for mages. Fifty years since the war, and we are no closer to curing the fraying than we were back then. The last thing the Transcends want is for another one like her to rise. The League couldn’t survive it . . .” He shrugged. “So, they err on the side of caution. If there’s even a ten percent chance you’re the next Xara Mallis, they won’t risk it. No matter your potential.”

  “But I wouldn’t do anything like her. It’s unfair.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You received training, however briefly, from Vera herself. And Transcend White hates her sister. If there’s any wonder at all, it’s that they didn’t send you to Psyche right away. No one knows what instigated Vera and Xara to leave the Academy. But it’s thought Vera’s influence began Xara down that dark path. And Vera has been missing for so long that until you showed up, Lucian, many believed her dead. Not Transcend White, though. Never her.”

  Could such a thing be true? If she were believed dead, then that meant Vera had recently come out of hiding. For what purpose? None of it made any sense. And none of it mattered, anyway. Lucian would be spending the rest of his days on the Mad Moon, assuming he could survive long enough on this so-called Isle of Madness. The name didn’t sound promising for his prospects.

  Lucian should have picked somebody—anybody. Even Transcend Red would have been better than the hell he would soon face.

  He had been such a fool.

  “I suppose it’s too late to change my mind.”

  Gaius nodded. “That it is, I’m afraid. Even if they accepted you back, you would always be the one they almost consigned to Psyche. And they would fear your retribution, however much you tried to smooth things over.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Lucian asked. “What’s the point?”

  Gaius shrugged. “Do my reasons matter? I admit, what has happened to you is unprecedented. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Usually, all the exiles are shipped off at the same time. But Transcend White made it a special point to send you off immediately.” Gaius eyed him critically. “You don’t seem dangerous, but looks can be deceiving. The Transcends see things far beyond the capabilities of one such as me.”

  “You overestimate them. They’re fallible, Gaius. If you had eyes, you would see that.” Gaius didn’t respond to this point. Lucian continued. “If the Transcends are never questioned, then what’s there to keep them in check?”

  “Well,” Gaius said. “I suppose you can get away with speaking such things since you have nothing to lose. Of course, the Transcends aren’t infallible, but more often than not, they are right. They were raised for that very reason.”

  The two lapsed into silence. There was nothing but the creaking of the hull, the vessel’s swaying in the dark water, and the rush of water outside the hull.

  “What is the Isle of Madness?” Lucian finally asked. “I figured those bound for Psyche would be sent directly to the spaceport.”

  “No,” Gaius said. “Things are not done that way. The Isle might be the most desolate, remote, and forsaken place on Volsung besides the ice caps. Escape is impossible. There are several thousand kilometers of ocean between it and the Ostkontinent. Unless you intend to water-walk that distance, you will be stuck there until a prison shuttle arrives to convey you to a prison barge.”

  “And that barge will take me to Psyche?”

  “One day, yes. The barges make a circuit around the League. When it comes to Volsung, a shuttle will descend to the Isle directly. It could be days, weeks, or even months from now. But one day, it will happen.”

  “Is there food, water, and shelter at least? You said this place is remote.”

  “The ocean currents keep the island warmer than most places this far north. There are edible plants, and even game and fish. That said, it will be quite cold. There are warm springs and cabins built in the middle of the island. We’ll be giving a supply of food to start off with, along with a survival handbook in case the shuttle is late.”

  “How kind of you.” At Gaius’s smug expression, Lucian’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Gaius rose from his crate and regarded Lucian in silence, his expression unreadable. Lucian wanted the White Psion to leave him be. Lucian reached for his Focus; like yesterday, he could assume the tranquility with ease. But he couldn’t find his ether. How had they cut him off? The thought crossed his mind that it was permanent, but that was too horrifying to imagine. But if that was the case, then they wouldn’t have needed eight mages to escort him to the island. That meant he would gain access to his ether once they left him.

  “How much longer until we get there?” Lucian asked.

  “Soon,” Gaius said, turning for the door. His expression became distant, and for a moment, his lips moved as if he had something more to say. In the end, however, he shut the door, leaving Lucian in silence.