Aboard the Burung, Vera sat in meditation. Her Focus extended far beyond her consciousness, delving the Manifold itself, as had been done by the Transcends of Old. Though the unearthing of secrets wasn’t likely, the mere chance of discovering knowledge lost since the Aeon of Ancients was well worth the risk. One hundred and ten years she had lived; if the Manifold were not through with her yet, as she believed, she would live one hundred and ten more.

  Over her shoulder, through the wide viewport of her first-class cabin, hung the planet of Halia, world of desert, world of ice. Her path had led her to this forsaken place, as it had led her to scores of forsaken places in her long life. And if all were in accordance with the Manifold, she would soon know the reason why.

  Her meditations were disturbed when a presence resonated within her mind. She felt a twinge of annoyance before reluctantly opening herself to the connection.

  A shocking cold overwhelmed her, a cold that seemed to go to the very marrow of her bones. Her Focus shifted to a higher plane, beyond the Shadow Realm of blood, bone, and flesh, and into the Realm of Light. Here, she was all but separate from her body. Here, terrible things could happen to her.

  In the darkness before her, a ghostly face materialized, wearing a disturbing smile. A stab of fear pierced her soul, and she suffered a moment of dark panic before she regained control of her senses. It had been years since she had heard this fell voice whispering in her mind.

  Vera . . .

  She steadied her resolve and responded. Ancient One.

  Finding the will to speak was no easy thing. In this place, he could snuff out her life with a thought, leaving her Focus to wander unbounded for eternity. She summoned her courage, such as she could. Without courage, this audience would break her mind.

  Speak, the Ancient One said.

  Of course. The meeting with Lucian was . . . wholly disappointing. Unready and unwilling to learn or to follow. I nearly forced him to come, but I had hoped to bring him to Halia willingly, to the Oracle I hear calling me across the stars—

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  —His time has not come, the Voice interrupted, in almost a hiss. It was your part to meet him. Nothing more.

  To meet him? Vera could hardly understand the Ancient One’s reasons, but it was not her place to question them. If she wanted his secrets, she would need to play her part.

  Then it is done. His path took him to Volsung, and the rest of his steps must be guided by the Manifold.

  The Manifold, the Ancient One said. Yes. I merely wished to know that the meeting had happened as prescribed. Nothing more.

  Vera sensed he was about to depart, but so rare was the opportunity to speak to the Ancient One that she couldn’t help herself.

  Might I beg a question of you, Ancient One?

  She felt a certain reticence from him, but also a sense that he would humor her request. At least, for now.

  How does my meeting with Lucian bring us closer to our goal?

  Something like a sigh, but not quite, escaped from the Ancient One’s presence, like the final exhalation from the mouth of the dying.

  All I’ve revealed to you shall come to pass, Vera. My prophecies do not lie.

  This . . . pleases me greatly, Ancient One.

  I have read your thoughts, and you have given me the measure of him. He is still a young man, unsure of his ways. He can be molded to our purposes. You are right in that he is not truly ready. But he will be made ready. Volsung will prove to be an adequate challenge for him. His path begins there, not on Halia.

  What challenge is that?

  That will become known . . . in time.

  Of course. She decided to ask more questions since the Ancient One seemed to be in a rare, receptive mood. And what of the future? What about our vision? How much longer?

  Patience. The strings are being pulled across the Worlds, of which you are just one. As always, I require your unquestioning loyalty. Give me both, and you will have what you seek. Or are you lacking faith?

  Never, Vera said. Though I must admit, I don’t know the reason you’ve led me here . . .

  I’m sure you will figure it out. You are nothing if not resourceful. Besides . . . who better to finish the noble work of the Mages of Starsea than their founder, Vera Desai?

  Yes, there was the work—always the work. The labor was eternal, but if she lived to see it completed, she could rest, knowing she had done everything possible to benefit the human race and right the wrongs of the past.

  When the Ancient One departed, he allowed her Focus to return to the Shadow Realm intact. Vera opened her eyes. She stood and went to the viewport, watching the dayside of the tidally locked planet draw near. The coldness in her bones went so deep that she wondered if she would ever feel warmth again. But all the sacrifices she had made, the plans long laid, made any amount of suffering worth it.

  Starsea would rise again. Somewhere on the surface of this planet was the key. Once all was prepared, a single spark, in the form of Lucian Abrantes, would be all it took to ignite the galaxy.