Venya’s conjured shield absorbed several laser shots as she watched Elion zoom away on his powered bike. He’d be slower with that girl on the back.

  She didn’t want to waste time fighting the people in this town. And she wasn’t going to let Elion get away again. But he’d demonstrated the ability to slip out of their hands twice already, so she had brought along something special.

  “Back to the skimmer!” she shouted. She conjured up the short range portal that would bring her back onto the ship. Diving through the writhing mass of purple energy, she emerged onto the deck of the ship with a crack.

  Ship’s crew scrambling around the cargo hold, preparing equipment, trying to activate the machinery that would help them capture and neutralize Elion.

  Rather than landing in the town and deploying their trap, they’d been forced to reveal their hand by destroying the Altar first. Venya cursed their bad luck.

  Other warlocks portalled in as Venya called to the pilot.

  “He’s riding away on a bike! Follow him!”

  She turned to the woman leading the technicians, working on the machine. A large black box, big enough to fit several people inside of it, hummed in the middle of the hold. Circuits of Artefin Teal and Desmian Red traced glowing paths across the device.

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing,” she replied. “We’re just checking it over to make sure the shockwave from the Altar didn’t throw anything off. It requires a very delicately balanced—”

  “You were supposed to have it running already,” Venya snapped. “He’s getting away!”

  “On a bike?” The woman protested. “We’re faster than him.”

  “Just get your machine working,” Venya grumbled. The deck of the cargo hold shifted beneath Venya’s feet as the pilot began moving the craft.

  “Wait!” The scientist working on the machine grabbed Venya’s arm.

  Venya sneered at her and brushed her hand away.

  “What?”

  “We’ll have to recalibrate again if we move during the process!”

  Venya sighed. “Stop the craft, but keep eyes on the boy!”

  She looked over her warlocks and their special equipment that they’d brought with them. Everything that she needed to bind and neutralize an Aurelian.

  “We aren’t going to lose him this time.”

  Gorman wheezed, coming back to consciousness. His chest heaved, air whistling through the hole in his lungs burned by the blast of Elion’s laserarm. He shifted, grasping for a roll of sheet metal he kept near his desk.

  His right bicep had been mostly destroyed, rendering his arm unusable. It did not matter; he would improve it. Using his left arm, he cut through the retaining strap on the roll of thin sheet metal, and then carved a circle into it with his Artefin power.

  Pressing the metal sheet to the hole in his chest, he ran his hand around the edges. Drawing on the power of Festris, he fused the metal to his flesh.

  He immediately felt his lungs working better. He lay on the ground, breathing for a few long moments, recovering his strength. His mind cleared as he did.

  Rolling to his knees, he dragged himself up to a standing position. From here he could see out of the window into the square below. He watched Elion and Keyla ride away on a bike, furious warlocks portalling back to their skyskimmer. If they did not catch him, would Dorian honor his word and provide the reward?

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  He watched as Kile and Tilly captured a meandering infected. He felt something as he watched the man; as they pulled him toward the tower. He reached out with his Festrin senses.

  Destroying the Shard had not ended the infection. But it had freed them from its control. All the infected scavengers and pemalion out there were just waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Their minds floated around in the wind, ready to be gathered in.

  In his mind, he collected the threads of connections streaming from the infected man below. He tugged on them, like marionette strings. The infected man responded. Gorman made the man struggle, flailing his arms as he struck out against Kile and Tilly.

  They sprang away from the man, going for their laserarms. Gorman made the man charge, straight into a laser blast from Tilly’s gun.

  The man died, crumpling to the ground. Gorman gasped, a surprising sense of loss rolling over him. He probed the space in his mind, a hole where the infected man had been; like a missing tooth. No matter. He’d replace it with more of them.

  Gorman smiled. The Father of Cyborgs had found himself an army. He turned his mind toward the communication chip he’d installed in Kile’s head. His own, mini form of infection, allowed him access to Kile. He made Kile drop his weapon.

  Gorman’s smile widened. It was time for the Army of Aterfel to emerge.

  Know this truth, Aria. I would have gone to the grave beside your mother, willingly. She died with honor. If there was any flaw in her, it was that she loved her children too much.

  My heart groans within me as I write this letter. Aria, never bow to Dorian’s insanity. You are stronger than he, wiser than he, and you are the true heir to the Throne. The legacy of House Starhold is now yours to bear.

  Keep the stars forever,

  ? Kessendra

  Liora sat on the edge of her bed, Kessendra’s letter in her hand. She laid back on the plush, soft mattress, sinking into her luxurious blankets. Four posters held a canopy overhead, made of golden silks.

  She had found the letter stashed in a locked box on the ornate mantle of the fireplace on the other side of the room. When she’d run her fingers over the wood of the small chest, it had flickered and glowed, then popped open.

  Liora looked at the letter again, the beautiful cursive handwriting scrawled across the page. She reached up, and touched the tiara of diamonds woven into her hair.

  Dorian had treated her like a princess. She could not imagine him acting the way that Kessendra had described. He’d lavished her with gifts. He’d given her everything she’d ever known she deserved. He was nice to her. Non-judgemental, unlike Zev.

  In a way, it made sense. She had always known, deep in her heart, that she was better than the people around her. When she discovered her true identity—a princess of Kylios—it felt right. And she had never really felt like she fit in, back on Earth.

  But here, with servants attending to her every need, everyone paying her the respect she deserved… this was home.

  And Zev had known it all along. She was furious with him for hiding it from her. She couldn’t believe how selfish her mother had been, to run away from her duties and hide on Earth.

  “Savela,” Liora called. “Draw a hot bath for me. And I need a scalp massage.”

  “Right away, my Lady,” Savela called from the antechamber.

  Liora pushed aside the curtains of her bed and slipped into her fluffy slippers. She returned the letter to the chest on the mantle and closed the lid. The box did not lock itself, and she found no way to reengage the mechanism.

  Instead she called up Praxis.

  << Obfuscate >>

  Purple light glowed from her hands, reflected in the oiled carvings of the box. The box faded away, disappearing from the mantle. It was still there, and could be found by a determined searcher, but unless someone knew what to look for, they would never find it.

  Liora drummed her fingers on the mantle. A small fire burned in the hearth below.

  Perhaps I should just destroy the letter. Cast it into the flames.

  She didn’t like what Kessendra had to say. Maybe she would bring the letter to Dorian.

  “My Lady,” Savela called. “Your bath is ready!”

  Liora rolled her neck and rubbed at her hair. Reading the letter had gotten her all worked up—she needed to relax.

  She left the small chest on the mantle, and headed out to take her bath.

  THE END OF BOOK 1