“A war?” I ask. “With your group? I don’t know how to tell you this, Archer, but I don’t think the sages have ever been terribly fond of you.”

  She nods. “No, they kill us on sight. Always have. They hate and destroy anyone who changes . . . anything. If someone defines themselves outside of the sage’s design, they are labeled as a cultist. Whether any of my group has met them or not. No, if you want to call that conflict a war, we have been waging it for a long time now. I am referring to the Council and the Republic.”

  I look at her in calculating silence for a moment, and she waits patiently for my response. I’ve never interacted with the Council to any degree. I gather they are something like an oligarchy. Or maybe a theocracy, depending on your view of the sages. I’ve read elections exist, but they don’t allow the population at large to participate. But that’s it. The extent of my knowledge. I haven’t challenged them in any capacity, at least not yet.

  “Say more,” I finally say. Clearly, some power balance has been disturbed with Markus’ death, but I simply don’t have enough information on both countries to deduce the exact nature of it. Guessing would be a waste of time. “How does Markus’ death start a war? I’m not associated with the Council. Surely there isn’t a new war every time a sage croaks?”

  “You started it by showing up,” Archer answers easily. “Everything revolves around the Original Sage, and the Original Sage seems to revolve around you.”

  “I’ve been calling him Alpha,” I cut in. “Thousands of years and the fucker hasn’t picked a name for himself. But ‘Alpha’ seems to capture his self-impressed whining pretty well.”

  Again, she nods in assent. “Alpha then,” she agrees. “No one is quite sure what his motivations are. He works with the sages, but he also hunts them. This is why they all avoid the border, much less the Nexus. They offer him sacrifices, and in exchange, he creates smaller worlds for them to play in. The sages hate sharing power and praise, and apparently, spending time in a constructed country helps solve the issue. But even as they make this trade, they hate each other. Alpha grows stronger when he captures them, taking their specialties as his own.”

  “Ah,” I guess. “So Alpha is the strongest sage, but not quite strong enough to beat all the other sages, if they work together. Is that right?” I’ve seen evidence of this already, although it seems the other sages underestimate Alpha’s abilities. Or maybe they weren’t expecting him to have an ally in Oakley.

  “Precisely,” she confirms. “Power is carefully balanced. Except, all the sages together could beat Alpha. As powerful as he is, there are simply too many of them. Fortunately for him, the sages don’t all get along. Two countries. The Council Lands and the Republic. They don’t get along. But they maintain peace anyway, because there are three powerful parties, and all of them want the others destroyed.

  “In other words, if one attacks first or shows a clear sign of weakness, they have to defend themselves on two fronts. The sages, for all the legends they tell about themselves, are no strategic geniuses. They are all acutely aware that if they find themselves in that situation, well. They are fucked.”

  “Right,” I say. “Which is where a fourth party comes in. A demon queen, and her supposed army, invaded one of the two countries and killed one of the sages. Upsetting the power balance. To the Council, it may look like the Republic now has to fight on three fronts instead of two, is that the gist of it?”

  “If only that were all,” she laments. “Except the Void Sage, perhaps the most powerful sage in the Republic, has joined hands with Alpha. That alone would tip the balance beyond repair. But Rowan, the Void, has been fear-mongering about you for years. Few took him seriously among the sages. More among the population. But you were a fairy tale told by a losing candidate. A grasp at straws. No one understood why he would direct the Guardians of Stone to take you as a serious threat. No one understands anything he's done when it comes to you. You’ll have to tell me about that some day.”

  “Until I killed Markus,” I guess.

  “Until you killed Markus,” she agrees. “Killed Markus, bombed the arena, and slaughtered hundreds of innocent people in an act of senseless terror, or so they are saying. In a single night, you went from fairy tale to credible threat. And suddenly, the sage who has been sounding the alarm for years is very popular. A terrified country now very much believes in your invasion. Believes in you.

  “The people are calling for an emergency election. They want to confirm Rowan by the end of the week. If he is the leader of the country, that means the Void didn’t just join the Original. It means the Original joined the Republic, as far as the Council is concerned. But they aren’t too afraid to declare war. No. Because they think the Republic is fighting a demon army already. They think everyone has to fight on two fronts.”

  “Shit,” I whisper. “World really went to hell in a week, huh?” War isn’t pretty. But it does provide an opportunity, I guess. Perhaps I'll be able to kill off the major players and stop an actual war before it gets too far. “Can we prove my supposed victims are still alive?”

  “We can, but it will do little. We’ll never get the news to spread as quickly nor as widely as news of the attack. ‘We were wrong’ makes for terrible news, after all. Besides, the people of the Republic are responding out of fear. They lack the capacity to grieve the loss of innocent lives. They just don’t want to lose their own,” she answers.

  “You say that as if it doesn’t include you,” I say.

  “I’m protected by my endoaspect, same as you,” she explains.

  “Which is?” I press. She offers a cold stare and no answers. Figures. “Right. Well. I’m no genius strategist either. I’m the punchy girl. My job is to be the girl who punches. So if you want to know my best plan for beating two countries and one guy with mommy issues, it’s simple.

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  “Same as before. Stop the mind control. Give people their hearts back. The sages thought they had the right to tell people what emotions they were allowed to feel. I plan to make each and every one of them fear the consequences of showing their faces in public. So that’s the plan. Find which sages are responsible for the mind control. Kill them first. Then kill their friends. Hell, if we can get enough grief back, I’m pretty sure I could take Oak–Rowan.”

  She takes a deep breath through her nose. “Great. Then we are in agreement. We go for the artifacts stealing grief first,” she says. Something in her eye flickers, and for the briefest of moments, the hairs on the back of my neck raise. Like I’ve just come face to face with a true predator. Or perhaps a hunter. A moment later, it’s gone, but the memory of it lingers.

  “That’s it? Just like that?” I ask. There’s no way. Even I know what I’ve just said is overly simple. I want to make a more detailed plan when I’m with the people I trust. But she accepted too quickly. She has an entire organization here, and probably a few new recruits from the people we brought out of the stone.

  “Well. We also want to lean into your identity,” she adds. Even that doesn’t ring entirely true, but I suppose if I am playing my cards close to the chest, she probably is too. “There is a reason I shaved the side of my head last week. The Void wants to build you up as some kind of great adversary. I want to do the opposite. Plenty of people hate the sages. So, rather than just being ‘punchy’, I’d like you to be a symbol.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the thought. Broadcasting a king’s death with light mana or killing a sage in front of a crowd is one thing. I want people to know that ‘powerful’ is not the same thing as ‘invincible’. But intentionally standing on a pedestal to be praised and deferred to? That’s really not my thing. I have put myself under the ‘symbol’ label before, but that was a faceless symbol of fear. That was a monster hunting abusers. I was honestly more cryptid than symbol. And once that symbol got a face, we ended up with the Kingdom of Endings.

  “How about we use a literal symbol,” I suggest. “People will rally behind ideas.”

  “Not as well as they will rally behind a great woman,” she counters.

  “‘Great woman’? Please don’t call me that. I have no interest in history book entries or fans. And you may be right. But the world they end up with will be better, without their beliefs and inspiration tied to a fallible and mortal face,” I say.

  “A mortal wouldn’t have escaped that stone alive,” she quips.

  “Yes, well. I wouldn’t put ‘good at staying alive’ on any t-shirts with my face,” I reply tiredly.

  “What does that mean?” She asks.

  “Call it an inside joke. Like my heart,” I groan. Images of auburn hair and hats flash through my brain. Right. I have a lot to talk to Sara about. “Actually, the twins, where are they?”

  “Preparing,” she answers. “Why?”

  “Oh, preparing. Right, of course. I should have guessed that. Very helpful answer. You should work for Microsoft,” I mock. “As to why, well. I need to speak to them. Or Ember, if she’s around.”

  “I gathered as much,” she intones. “What about?” This woman is starting to irk me, but I suppose I can’t just discard potential allies against tyrants. Still. She talks like she’s used to being in charge. Like being vague is her right, but I owe her clear and detailed answers. Like that should be a given.

  “What are they preparing for?” I ask.

  She sighs, idly running her hand along the newly shaved side of her head. “The boy, August. He’s got a couple of theories about where the artifact is. Different sages we need to investigate. I doubt it will lead to much, but he’s got himself excited about it. So he, his sister, and the ailur are trying to join their household staff,” she says. She sees me tense up and waves me off. “No need to try to stop them. They are targeting small sages. Less powerful ones. Honestly, they seem too unimportant to be involved, but that’s what they want to do. We are helping set them up with some Republic identities.”

  My breath catches despite her reassurances. “I’m not going to try and stop them, provided they are actually going of their own accord. They are their own people and they can fight however they will,” I reply, leaving only a slight threat in my tone. “I just . . . never mind. Don’t worry about it. Do you know where I can find them?” I ask. I can’t just say ‘I’m terrified of sending them out on their own. If one of them dies when I’m not around again, it may break me, and I don’t know if I can recover.’ So ‘Don’t worry about it’ will have to do.

  “I thought there was an implicit trade there,” Archer says. “Why do you need them?” I narrow my eyes at her. Why does she care so much?

  “They are my friends and I’ve been missing for a week. Is that not reason enough?” I ask. She shrugs.

  “Sure, but it doesn’t feel like that’s all there is to it, that’s all,” she replies.

  “Doesn’t much seem like your business either way, if I’m being honest. But hey. We’re supposed to be friends here, right? Or allies, at least. So I don’t mind. I was expecting a fucking call from my girlfriend, but I lost my whisper sphere. I was hoping they’d heard from her. A bit shady, I know. But what can I say? I’m a romantic,” I say. I don’t know why I am being so hostile to her. Maybe I’m still in a bad mood, after that moment when I thought I saw Henry. Whatever it is, I find myself growing more and more hostile, and I can’t even put my finger on why. I need to wrap the conversation up and sleep it off.

  “I rub you the wrong way, don’t I?” she asks.

  I shrug. “Yeah, alright. So far, maybe. Or maybe I’m just in a shitty mood. I honestly don’t know. But I don’t like being interrogated about why I want to see the people I care about. The copycat thing is also creeping me out a bit, if I’m being honest. But that’s alright, I don’t need you to rub me that right way. I just need to be able to work with you,” I reply. I look over her shoulder, toward the door. “Look. I’m happy to have people on my side for once. It’s a relief to connect with someone who is already fighting. Really. But just . . . I don’t want to measure cocks every time I want to find a place to shit, much less talk to the people I care about.”

  “Right,” she responds. “Fair enough. It’s just . . . they don’t seem to like you very much. And if I’m honest, the look on your face when Autumn was mentioned . . . you don’t seem to like her much either. It was fair to question your intent.” Shit. I hadn’t even realized I had been reacting to her name. And in a way, she is right. She sees red flags. It’s perfectly reasonable to at least ask. I sigh.

  “Our history is complicated, alright? Autumn and I are dealing with a common issue, and it’s both our faults. That’s all it is. So please, do you mind telling me how I can find them?” I repeat.

  She stares at me with calculating eyes for a long moment. “Down the hall, third room to your right. Give them my regards,” she finally relents. I let a relieved breath out as I rise to my feet. Then I put two fingers to my head in a faux salute, and leave the unsettling woman behind.