The wicked winter of Mount Chappelle returned.

  Carried in the biting cold jowls of its wind, the grim warning of defeat howled against the mountainside. Valentine and Van huddled together, blasted by the torrential wind. On the peak of the mountain, they had expected a stunning view, but despite the immense vantage from the summit, they could see almost nothing.

  “This is nuts!” Van shouted over the whistling din. He scraped away the icicles forming on his eyebrows. “How are we supposed to see anything in this storm?”

  “Raven says we’ll know it when we see it!” Valentine shouted back. “This is our only chance!”

  She turned to him and hugged him close. They each peered through a pair of large binoculars, looking over each other’s shoulders to scan the sky. But all they saw was white.

  “I know what the castle looks like,” he said into her ear, holding her close. “But there’s just no way. I can’t even see the mountain we’re standing on.”

  Raven stood on the edge of another snowy bluff nearby. He scoured the blustery skies with the naked eye, searching everywhere.

  Come on, you miserable dog! Where are you?

  He grimaced, wondering if he needed to take more drastic steps. Soon, visibility would be nonexistent, and the Seal Master wouldn’t make another pass on Roespeye for months. He heard the crunching steps of his friends behind him and turned.

  “Raven, we’ve been looking for three hours!” Van shouted. The wind nearly drowned his voice out. “The storm is getting worse! What do we do?”

  Raven suddenly pointed past them in jubilation. “There!”

  They followed his direction. Immediately, they spotted it. Despite the heavy snow and sleet, the Flying Dim Castle came thundering through the clouds, enormous in appearance from such a height. Steel turrets and towers hummed, banged, shrieked and whistled while two long silver wings flapped powerfully against the storm, keeping the formidable, makeshift palace perpetually in flight.

  They took in the sight in awe for a few moments before the reality of the extreme cold set back in.

  “I thought the Seal Master was a fiend!” Valentine shouted. “Are you really sure about this, Raven?”

  He nodded. “It has to be done!”

  She reached into her thick jacket pocket and produced one of her pandora, carefully handing it to him.

  “Get yourself to the Sea, Valentine!” he shouted. “Make sure Sarratica and Harmony are ready for us! Van, have your Thimbles on standby! Pray that today is the day we find the Star Tome!”

  Wings of light appeared on his back as he activated her pandora. He jumped out of the snow and began to float above the ground. The gales shifted him back and forth, but he remained steady. Van and Valentine hastened for the path back down the mountain. Looking up, Raven took flight, making as straight of a line as he could manage toward the flying castle.

  Raven flew like an eagle, bursting through the gales. He encircled the mighty fortress, careful in his approach. The castle loomed large as he drew closer, intimidating in its presence. The cacophony of noise, screeching metal and flapping wings, served as a warning for trespassers, but Valentine’s incredible pandora allowed him free flight through the sky, able to divert at a moment’s notice.

  He willed himself closer when he spotted the small entrance ramp near the back of the citadel. Steadying himself, he dropped onto the ascending, rickety ramp. Wind blasted his robes into a flurry, threatening to knock him back off. He quickly climbed, clinging to a rail, and entered the castle through a small, makeshift open doorway. The wings of light dispersed, and he stood alone in a suddenly quiet hall. Rusted metal panels and rivets made up a long hallway with no other entrances or exits except one, at the very end. A singular door.

  He stood in place for a long time, staring at his destination in silent dread.

  The chill of the storm fled as sweat formed on his face. The reality of what he was about to do hit him hard. He feared very little in this life, but he had known the day might come when he would need to make this sacrifice. Anxiety set in with extreme force as his thoughts rabidly searched for some alternative. But none presented themselves. Now it came to this.

  He beat his chest. I can do this.

  But he didn’t move. His legs felt like lead. His breathing labored. Eyes grew wide as sweat poured down his neck.

  He beat his chest again. I can do this.

  “You can do this, Raven,” Rue said.

  I can do this. He took a step. Then another. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. Hands felt clammy, but his face burned.

  Brave like Arkh. Be brave like Arkh. I can do this. I can do this!

  Over and over he beat his chest as the door drew near. Finally, he stood before it, and he stopped. His heart was beating so fast, it hurt. He breathed deep, forcing himself to calm down. He reached for the doorknob, but his hand was shaking. He took hold of it with his other hand.

  He put a hand to his face. His heartbeat slowed.

  I have to do this.

  He opened the door.

  “I saw you on the mountain,” a familiar, vile voice said with amused delight. It echoed deeply in the dim chamber.

  Raven’s eyes narrowed in loathing. He said nothing. Though he could not see the Seal Master, he was there all the same.

  “I saw you in the hall. I saw you at my door.”

  Raven entered a wide circular room and closed the door. Within the rusted inner belly of the castle, only a round table and two chairs were situated. A thick, painted white ring encircled the unbroken wall, on which seals of myriad design and purpose had been drawn. Each of them Raven recognized, aware of the severe protection offered to their artist and his palace. Incredibly complex, beautiful, and cruel designs waiting for a visitor’s single misstep. Like loaded traps they waited, inky black webs of misfortune. On the other side of the room, a pandora was embedded into the wall. The Class Six card featured a stone castle on its surface, and glowing black veins ran from its edges to penetrate the rusty walls in all directions, pulsing every now and again.

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  The twang of metallic wires echoed, and Raven looked up. A man descended from a wide hole in the ceiling, lowered by cables. The twisted cables ran from a large leather backpack strapped closely to his body.

  The thick cords acted like arms, grasping to the table and walls like a multitude of limbs. They gently placed the man in the chair on the opposite side of the table. Gentry Magnus smiled imperiously, folding his hands while the metallic appendages wriggled all about him like an active spider. The antagonist known throughout Fallowreyk as the Seal Master extended his hand, indicating for Raven to sit.

  Raven steeled himself and sat in the wide chair of metal opposite him, observing the rat he’d long wished he would never have to speak to again. Gentry’s thick black hair was tousled and greasy, as if made from dried oil. He wore a leather tunic and greaves, drenched in a black, slimy substance. A stack of pandora pens protruded from his chest pocket. Steel claws covered each of his fingers, clicking and clanging as he moved them, and a wicked shard of metal was embedded into the side of his neck. The Eagle Dawn Banner of Zaliance embellished the surface of the relic.

  “The boy who would be king has returned,” Gentry finally said with amusement, tapping his clawed fingers on the surface of the table. “When last we spoke, I believe you said it would be the last time.”

  “When last we spoke, you were bleeding from the neck and wishing you hadn’t goaded me,” Raven replied darkly.

  Gentry’s amusement faded. He tugged at the shard in his neck uncomfortably. “Yes… well. As you can see, I’m not dead. Princess Noelle’s commands have been obeyed to the fullest.”

  “The ‘fullest’ you say.”

  “Are you here to finally remove this?”

  “Noelle struck you with the Shine Dagger. Only she can remove it. You know this as well as I.”

  He sighed, standing up. He slowly walked around the table, dragging his claws along the surface of the table as he did. The low screech grated, but Raven didn’t react. With each step the man took, his mangled shoes squished as if soaked. An inky substance leaked from his tunic, leaving a dotted trail behind him.

  “So then, the status quo remains,” he said, passing behind Raven and continuing to orbit the table. “I do not speak your name to the Titan, and in exchange, my life is spared from Princess Noelle’s wrath. If this is the case, why have you returned to my castle? I was under the distinct impression we both agreed we never wanted to meet again.”

  “You’re still in service to the Titan,” Raven said with contempt. “You should fear something greater than death.”

  “Ah yes. More preaching,” he replied callously. “The Titan has granted my every wish in life. He extends the life of my beloved pandora.” Gentry lovingly placed a hand on the pandora embedded into the wall. “My greatest joy. Solitude in the skies forever.”

  He touched a nearby seal on the wall. A thump preceded a screech as the walls all around them gave way, lifting up. The wide blue skies opened up all around them, a panoramic view of Fallowreyk’s majesty. But no wind blasted through, and no snow chilled their bones. Protected from the elements, it served as a makeshift observation deck of the heavens. The view was fantastic, but Raven sniffed in contempt. Gentry frowned at his response. The walls descended again, closing up around them and leaving them back in the rusted, dim prison cell.

  “It’s all wasted on you. Why should I fear the Titan?” he asked. “I am his humble servant, and he grants me peace merely in exchange for loyalty.”

  “Loyalty is a particularly interesting word choice,” Raven replied. “I wonder what he would do if he ever discovered all the secrets you keep from him.”

  “I don’t keep anything from the ruler!” Gentry snarled. “Nothing except… you. And only because of this blasted thing.” He pointed to the dagger in his neck. “I do not fear him as you do. I use the word loyalty. Yes! Because that’s what he wants. If that keeps me in the sky, well…” He sat back in his chair and kicked his feet up, smiling. “All the better.”

  Raven glowered at him. “He keeps you around because of your seals.”

  “Perhaps,” he conceded. “It’s the only reason he summons me these days. But then he refreshes the life of my pandora and sends me on my way. He recognizes the value in my art. You and me… we’re the last of a dying breed, Whitesong. No one uses seals anymore – the ancient knowledge is fading. Pandora are the ultimate power of the land.”

  “Which is what the Titan wants. Pandora are a curse. Seals are divine. He may not tell you, but he reviles seals and seeks to purge their existence, even as he uses them. Their holiness exposes his darkness.”

  “Holy indeed,” Gentry mocked. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my long years of developing new seals, there is nothing ‘holy’ or ‘perfect’ or any other description of their ilk! Seals are…” He grasped at air as if trying to snatch a thought from it. “They are incomplete! They are difficult, cumbersome, unwieldly. Loaded with danger and laced with despair.”

  He paused, exhaling, and shook his head. “I have spent my long life learning everything about seals, and I have only come to one conclusion. Seals are not holy. They are just as imperfect as pandora or relics or anything else.”

  “I did not come to hear you mock the Holy One.”

  “Your attitude speaks the truth!” He slapped the table. “Deny it, but you know exactly what I’m talking about. Except for me, no one knows more about seals than you and Noelle. Lingering in the depths of your mind, even in your studies of your God, you know it to be true.”

  Raven remained silent. He indeed understood what Gentry implied, but refused to speak on it. Something in the nature of seals remained misunderstood, as if an important element was missing. It suggested, as he claimed, that the nine holy runes were not sufficient. But to admit such a thing would be to suggest fallacy in the Holy One’s designs. He would never tolerate such a thing.

  “I take your sudden silence as a sign we get down to business,” Gentry said, sitting up and placing his hands on the table. The wriggle of the cables from his pack increased, as if they sensed prey. “Why are you here, Whitesong? I can guess, but I want to hear those sweet words from your own mouth.”

  Sweat slowly resurfaced to Raven’s neck. “I need a seal,” he replied.

  “Yes, of course. And… which one is that? As you know, I have discovered so many.”

  “You know which.”

  The Seal Master smiled as if his birthday had just come. “Yes, yes. You have been after it for quite some time, haven’t you? Let’s see now. In the past, you’ve offered gold and prestige in exchange for the Seal of Spirit. You’ve offered your own discovered seals in trade. You even once offered me pandora, which must have been absolutely grotesque to you. I certainly enjoyed watching you do it.”

  Raven didn’t reply. His heart hammered in his chest.

  “And I turned them all down,” Gentry continued. “One by one. So then…” One of the cable extensions reached down and grabbed the table, slowly sliding it to the side with a screech.

  “You must be offering something else.” He stood. “Something I want. Is it Rue the Day?”

  “Never,” he replied scathingly.

  Gentry approached, dripping in inky goo. He mocked counting his bladed fingers. “It’s not Rue the Day. And you can’t remove the Shine Dagger. It seems you’ve run out of things with which to tempt me. Unless…”

  Raven’s remained silent as the villain now stood over him, but sweat dripped down his face and his breathing labored.

  Gentry smiled wickedly. “Raven Whitesong… have you truly come to offer the thing I’ve wanted most? The thing you promised I would never have?” He laughed in delight. “You must be truly desperate.”

  Again no reply. Raven closed his eyes.

  His adversary considered him in entertained silence for a moment. But then clarity overtook him. “The Eyes of Shallonigh,” he whispered, deep with desire. “The unmatchable gift to see another man’s soul. You know how much I have yearned for this. Are you truly offering them?”

  Raven opened his eyes again. “You can have one,” he replied hoarsely.

  Gentry Magnus remained still as he stared straight into Raven’s eyes, searching them with interest.

  “I am… utterly confounded. What has caused this radical change? What could you be after? The value must be immeasurable.” He folded his clawed hands together. “The Titan would obliterate all of Fallowreyk hunting for you if he knew these eyes existed. A power to slake the thirst of his unrest. And yet you offer me the rarest gift in the whole world… something only you have possessed in perhaps generations. The ultimate insurance against the ruler’s wrath… for nothing more than a seal.”

  “Do we have a deal?” Raven replied.

  “I want both eyes.”

  “This will be the only chance you ever get, Magnus. It’s one of my eyes or nothing. In exchange for your Seal of Spirit.”

  Raven looked up. His emerald eyes turned red with a purple halo around each, casting fiery light across his face.

  “What is your answer?” he asked.

  Gentry looked down at him inquisitively. Then a wicked smile streaked across his face. Two of his cables lashed forward, grabbing Raven’s head and squeezing tight. They pressed him against the seat of his chair, holding him still. Gentry grabbed Raven’s head, gripping his scalp. A third cable came forth, pointed straight at Raven’s right eye.

  “This is agreeable,” he said, laughing.

  Raven squeezed the armrests, and his heart pounded. He grit his teeth, chest heaving.

  God… give me strength!

  But when the metal spike plunged into his skull, he could not suppress his scream.