For the second time that day, Raven threw open wide the doors to the Ilias Drome. Healed once again, he came like a demon, holding the objects of his mission in both hands. Dirty, bloody, clothes frayed and torn, yet filled with renewed energy. The golden rods were as scepters, heralding his arrival. The pages of the Star Tome scattered wildly, hurricane in force, as if anticipating the final event.

  The masters stood in disbelief at his appearance.

  “Selim lost?” Turngood exclaimed, aghast. Color drained from his face. “How is this possible?”

  “And he gave up the key!” Master Bastille said in amazement.

  “Holy Wild,” Van said. “You actually did it!”

  Raven pointed to Master Smith. “You. Go find some men to carry Master Forir to the hospital. He needs medical attention immediately.”

  “Young man, you don’t get to order me ar—”

  “I said go,” he replied darkly.

  Smith scurried off in obedience.

  Raven pointed at Fanny. “Challenge number four – Master Bastille. Restore the Star Tome.”

  She lifted the golden orb with a ready smile. Bastille’s slip of paper ignited. The words of fire appeared in the air, just as he said them.

  Raven lifted the two golden rods. The cylinder Fanny had possessed featured a jagged end piece. He combined the two keys and twisted them counter to each other. A click preceded a snap. Raven dropped the pieces, and they tumbled with a loud clang. Inside the newly opened spaces, two rolled papers appeared. In a single moment, they fluttered out, joining their brothers. The pages in the Ilias Drome reacted with a shudder, picking up in another whirlwind to hurtle around Raven like a tornado.

  He raised his arms, basking in the force. Bit by bit, the pages sailed back down, collecting into his outstretched hands. A deep blue book cover formed out of ether, closing over the last page as it inserted itself into the newly formed volume. Once complete, something new emerged from the titleless tome. A milky white pandora, with an image of a pair of foxes. It shook itself loose, falling out of the tome, but it never hit the ground. The pandora that had been protecting the Star Tome for a hundred years was finally able to retire, fading into quickly disappearing lights.

  Raven held up the book, smiling triumphantly. Panka’s victory gong rang in joyous melody.

  “The Star Tome of Valius Shrale. Restored.”

  “Amazing!” Bastille shouted, lifting his arms. “Absolutely astounding! The knowledge of Valius Shrale has been recovered.”

  “Hand that book over,” Csezlaw demanded, whiskers ruffling. “That’s Nine Star property.”

  Raven smirked, holding his hand over the book. Moon’s Ark snapped to attention from his pocket, glowing. The pages of the tome turned rapidly, and the collected work of Valius Shrale poured into his mind.

  He gasped.

  The floor fell away. Light turned to dark, which then gave way to color. Raven fell. Dumbfounded, he plunged into the sudden abyss. Hurtling through a nightmare, he tossed this way and that, caught up in a deafening gale. A hailstorm of waves slammed against him, tossing him through a vortex of nauseating dementia.

  What is this? he thought in panic.

  Searching through the dysphoric drop only caused more confusion. No up existed. No down could be found. He fell and fell and fell, twisting and turning, tossed like a ragdoll. Screaming and screeching filled his ears, bursting with torment. There seemed no end to the nightmare.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Then, when all seemed lost, a single new light shone. Bright among the shifting chaos, it held firm, an anchor steady against the tide. Raven turned, desperate to focus on the single light far off in the distance. He realized it was the eye of the storm, the source of the sudden and outrageous disorder.

  What is this? What is happening?

  There was no answer. Even so, a voice came to him. Or maybe it was an idea, so quiet it nearly drowned in the storm. This idea held him in place, stopping his struggle. At the eye, the source of light… was madness. The madness Shrale spoke of. A pure, unadulterated source of both wisdom and death. Immediately, Raven knew he should flee. This thing… it would kill him.

  But instead, he reached for it.

  Despite the warning, despite the fear. He stretched for this source that caused Shrale’s demise. Because it was the answer. What fear remained? What nightmare existed to derail his vengeance?

  There was none!

  He swam desperately, as if surging through the mightiest ocean in a typhoon. He grappled and scrapped through the tumultuous void, the rainbow hurricane. Inch by inch, he came closer, nearly blinded by the growing light.

  “I will not fail! I will not run!” he shouted with all his might. “THIS IS MY DESTINY! THIS IS MY VENGEANCE!”

  He dove into the twisting abyss, hurtled in dizzying circles around the source. Over and over, he circled. Doom approached like the certainty of death itself. He reached out his arms, flailing this way and that. He was almost there! The hands of mortality grasped at his heart, squeezing and pulling, begging him to relent, but Raven wouldn’t have it.

  He made one last reach, grasping his fingers around the star.

  The storm disappeared.

  Raven stood in the void, hands tightly enclosed around the light and heaving for air. Sweat dripped down his face as he squeezed with all his strength. He would never let it go. But then… something again whispered to him in the new silence. There was no danger now. Feeling rendered the belief true.

  He opened his hands.

  The star shined differently now. It appeared as a wish, a treasure beyond compare. And it was in that moment Raven comprehended what he now held, though he didn’t understand how. Everything that Valius Shrale spoke of, everything he endured. All of it… now made complete sense.

  It was a rune.

  “I… I can’t…”

  But there were no words. Nothing could be said. It stayed in his hands, true as the sun. But he still couldn’t fathom it. A tenth rune. The symbol featured a small circle with three crosses linked at the bottom. Never could he have guessed such a thing was Shrale’s true discovery.

  But he felt it. The pure holiness of the rune. And all of the knowledge he’d ever accumulated on runes and seals became witness to the truth of this discovery. The incomplete nature of seals and the original nine runes. The dangerous interact of their use. All of it. Everything was clear. The runes were incomplete, as the Seal Master once said.

  Because Ten is Completion.

  Why a tenth rune had been hidden from mankind all this time remained a mystery. But as the seconds ticked by, clarity fell over him. And with it, reality returned. He blinked away the blurriness to find himself back inside the Ilias Drome. His head was turned up, looking deep into the expanse.

  When he looked back down, he realized he was on his knees, still clutching to the Star Tome. The light he held was gone. Van, Valentine, and the masters were looking at him in fear, as if they had just witnessed something horrific.

  “Raven, are you okay?’ Van finally said, rushing up to him and taking his arm.

  Shakily standing back up, he blinked rapidly again as his mind seared with pain. The weight of the new knowledge was profound. But with growing clarity, he also registered another pain. A searing sting on his forehead. He reached up and touched it, wincing as he’d somehow been burned. Feeling across the deep wound, he realized it was another symbol. He recognized it immediately.

  A human eye with a star for a pupil.

  The same wound had been seared into Valius Shrale’s flesh. It must have been a consequence for knowledge of the tenth seal.

  “Raven?” Van repeated.

  Valentine joined him, face riddled with concern. “What happened?” she asked. “You just suddenly went limp, dropping to your knees. You screamed something awful. And then your head just caught fire!”

  “I’m… okay,” he said. He let go of Van, breathing heavily. “I’m okay.”

  “Again, I say,” Czeslaw demanded, quieter now in his uncertainty, “Give us the Star Tome, Whitesong. It’s obviously too dangerous for any one person to possess.”

  Raven glared at him. “I agree.”

  Glass Blower emerged from his pocket and blasted a shooting blaze across the surface of the Star Tome. The masters gasped in alarm as the Star Tome immediately reduced to cinders, dropping into a pile of ash.

  “Oh no! What did you do?” Bastille demanded, sinking to his knees in anguish. “The Star Tome! It’s gone!”

  Raven tapped his head. “Not quite.” He turned to Fanny. “We continue on! The fifth challenge from Master Turngood. Destroy the Sleeping Devil. We make for the courtyard of this so-called devil. It’s finally time, once and for all, to correct the greatest mistake Roespeye has ever known.”