They fight in my name. Fools! Fight not, save for your own salvation.

  For though I shall try, I have seen my fate, and it is not I who will save you.

  -Zaethin Devaro, circa 205 Post Imprisonment

  Naidi Evar bit her lip, glancing behind her. The bearded man was still there.

  Thaus, could she go one day without someone trying to kill her? Just one day. She fingered the knife on her belt. The metal hilt felt especially cold.

  At least he’s not a Seeker, she thought. Red eyes give away that much. I don’t have to feel bad about killing a Shadi. She Reached, drawing in some Purity from the dagger, which had a Surge — her Surge — hidden within the pommel. Not enough that her glow was visible, but enough she could heal a wound if the man got a jump on her.

  She twisted down a side corridor, resisting the urge to shoot another glance behind. There were Talar soldiers all around; he couldn’t attack her right now.

  Where she was going, though, there would be no guards.

  She turned down another corridor. This time there were no guards. The man continued to follow. Naidi’s hand trembled on the hilt of her dagger. It was so very cold.

  Red shadows flickered in the corridor, and, grimacing, Naidi turned.

  He was running toward her, a sword in his hand. He was glowing red, not as bright as a true Voidburner, but he clearly had a Surge.

  She stood still as he approached. Waiting. Dreading. Knowing she would have to kill him.

  Then, as he swung, she whipped out her dagger and slammed it into his chest. His sword swung at her neck, but it clanged against titrite armor as it struck. Naidi always kept a plate of metal in the back of her shirt, so she could summon the armor at will.

  His eyes widened, and he hung there for a moment, gasping, choking on his own blood. His hand twitched, probably trying to swing his sword toward Naidi again, but, cringing, she knocked the blow aside with a titrite-covered elbow, then shoved the man forward. The dagger ripped free as he tumbled to the ground. His eyes widened one last time, and then the light faded from them.

  Naidi shivered, then gagged, stepping backward. Tears welled in her eyes.

  He was a Shadi, she reminded herself. He, of all people, deserved this.

  The tears still slipped traitorously down her cheeks. “Twenty-six,” she said softly. At the mention of the number, each of the previous twenty-five murders she had committed ran through her mind. Bile rose in her throat, but she pushed it down, carefully unbuttoning her coat; it was covered in blood now. She set it gingerly aside, leaving her only in a tight carbon-fiber battlesuit.

  Another figure rounded the corner, and Naidi tensed, then relaxed as she saw the man’s face. Tarnus, a tall, graying man, and her superior within the ranks of the Silver Dawn, regarded the body on the floor with a grim expression, then nodded.

  “Good work. He’s been a nuisance lately.”

  Naidi was silent, and she turned away, trying to hide the tears on her face. Tarnus sighed.

  “Again, Naidi? I thought you were over this.”

  “Can we get on with the meeting?”

  “Dispassion, Naidi. That is the code. It extends to killing, too.”

  Well maybe I don’t want to kill, Naidi thought bitterly. Instead of protesting, though, she just nodded. “I know. I will atone for my weakness later.”

  “And you will wipe the tears off your face now,” Tarnus said sternly. “I do not want a Herald seeing you in this state. It reflects badly on all of us.”

  Naidi tensed. A Herald? She nodded again, using her sleeve to wipe the tears off her face, slowly regaining her composure. Hopefully the Herald wouldn’t see the red in her eyes. She couldn’t hide that. She turned back toward Tarnus, straightening. Her superior inspected for a moment, then nodded.

  “Good enough.” He frowned. “I want you to keep quiet during this meeting, unless the Herald asks you a question directly. They are difficult enough for me to deal with, and I have far more experience.”

  “Understood.”

  Tarnus’ frown deepened. “I certainly hope so, girl. For your sake.” He retrieved a thin tube from his pocket — a Disposer. It already glowed with charge, and he pressed it against the neck of the body. Heat burst outward, and the man burned away in an instant.

  “You knew,” Naidi whispered. “You knew I’d have to kill him.”

  “Yes, I did,” Tarnus said. He met her eyes, as if challenging her to defy him.

  She did not. He smiled, then gestured down the hallway, where a pneumatic lock lay hidden in a corner; most would not even realize that the wall there was actually a door. “Follow.”

  Naidi obeyed, striding behind Tarnus as he walked down the corridor, then set his hand against the lock. It hissed, and a portion of the wall slid open.

  Inside, a small alcove waited, a holoscreen projector sitting at a table in its center. Noticeably tensing, Tarnus stepped toward the holoscreen. A light on the top of the device flashed yellow.

  We’re late. Thaus.

  Tarnus hesitated, hand wavering just above another button on the holoscreen. He glanced back at Naidi.

  “Silence. Let me do the talking. For both our sakes.”

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  “I understand.”

  Tarnus studied her, hesitating a moment longer, then, sighing, pressed the button, then stepped back and straightened. His expression shifted, his cheek muscles relaxing, his eyes staring unblinkingly forward. Uncaringly forward.

  The holoscreen buzzed to life, projecting a full-color, three-dimensional image upward. At first, it displayed a static mess of randomly colored lights. A gravelly voice rattled through the speaker.

  “Til what day?”

  “Til death is conquered,” Tarnus said, voice monotone.

  There was a pause. Then the static vanished, replaced by a figure sitting atop a stone seat. Baggy silver cloth covered every speck of the person’s skin, loose enough she couldn’t tell if it was male or female. A veil covered the face, with a rune inscribed onto it.

  Esthenat, it read.

  The Silver Dawn.

  “Brother Avesh.” The voice was modulated, and monotone, though Naidi knew it was a filtered version of the figure in the image.

  Tarnus bowed, kneeling with his right leg and placing a fist to his chest. “Master Herald.” Naidi fell into a similar bow, her heart beating fast. How long had it been since a Herald had contacted them? At least two years, maybe longer. They could just be giving new instructions, but likely this visit didn’t mean anything good.

  The figure paused, letting them stay bowed for several moments before it spoke. “Rise.” Immediately, they did, snapping back into a straight-backed posture.

  “I want a report,” it continued.

  Tarnus cleared his throat. “Larsh continues to wage her war, as I am sure you already know. Her army is most impressive.”

  “Armies are of no concern to the Silver Dawn,” the voice drawled. “What does she know, Tarnus?”

  Tarnus frowned. “We have… yet to completely infiltrate her inner circle, Master Herald.”

  The Herald leaned forward. “Yes, I suspected as much. That is why I have been sent. Your team here is… underperforming, Brother Avesh. Severely underperforming.”

  Tarnus swallowed. “I assure you, this will be worth it. Larsh has access to the Tower on Xilia, and many other texts hidden within the Talar Archives. There are secrest here to be uncovered, I just…”

  “You fear.”

  The words were said more softly than all the others the Herald had spoken, but Tarnus immediately fell deathly still. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, clearly fighting against his emotions as his expression slipped back to its usual neutrality. “I am sorry,” he said, voice monotone again. “I have sinned.”

  “Indeed,” the Herald said. “Indeed.” It leaned back, tapping a finger against the armrest of the stone seat. “Tell me, Tarnus, do you truly understand our cause?”

  “I seek the end of the end,” Tarnus recited. “The death of death, the final victory of mankind.”

  “And you know the cost?”

  “I will not feel. I will not love, I will not hate, I will not fear. I only serve.”

  “Whom do you serve?”

  “The Mistress of the Dawn, foremost.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she serves the peoples of Delti.”

  The Herald paused, then nodded. “You are cleansed, Brother Avesh. I witness it.”

  Tarnus notably relaxed, and he gave another bow. “Thank you, Master Herald.”

  “Rise,” the Herald said idly. It tapped its finger a little faster. “Now, to the matter of Larsh. Your failure in this matter is frustrating. We have dedicated many resources to your team.”

  Many resources? Naidi thought. How many others are there? She wasn’t allowed to know their names, each operative worked alone, with Tarnus as their only oversight. But she’d always assumed they were few in number. Perhaps wrongly, it seemed.

  “Larsh is a key political power,” Tarnus noted. “Being in her good graces will be essential to maintain our efforts.”

  “Perhaps,” the Herald said. “Perhaps. Power is a fleeting thing, and empires but a passing moment.” It considered for a moment. “Nevertheless, your operation will continue. We will be withdrawing certain operatives, but it will continue.”

  Tarnus opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, then shut it. He bowed again. “This is wise of you, Master Herald.”

  “Yes, it is. We will withdraw around half of your operatives.” It glanced toward Naidi, who tensed.

  Not me. Please, not me.

  It was a strange thought. When she’d first come here, pretending to be a Darian refugee, she’d thought she would hate living among the Talar. In some ways, she did.

  Yet, there were other things. Ryla. Vyrus. Friendship. Traitorous things.

  She fought hard to keep her expression void of emotion, but it must not have worked, for the Herald leaned forward again. “You worry, Sister Evar.”

  How did it know my name? She’d spoken only a few times with any of the Heralds. Though, come to think of it, they probably knew all of the Silver Dawn. “I am not worried,” she said, keeping her voice cool. “Death will be conquered. What do I have to worry about?”

  The Herald snorted — a distinctly human gesture from the figure. Then it continued in its usual monotone. “I can see your eyes, child. You’ve formed attachments, haven’t you?”

  “I have not,” Naidi lied.

  The Herald’s impassive veil remained fixed on her, and, despite herself, she shifted uncomfortably. The motion betrayed her, and the Herald continued.

  “You will be unassigned, then. You have sinned, Sister Evar. Attachment is forbidden.”

  Why? Aren’t we aiming to help people? But Naidi just nodded, kneeling. “I am sorry, Master Herald. How must I atone?”

  The Herald paused, then turned to Tarnus. “How effective has she been, Brother Avesh?”

  “Very,” Tarnus said quickly. “She is closer than any of the others to entering Larsh’s circle, she is on good terms with her heir.” He winced. “I would appreciate it if you did not take her from us.”

  “My will shall be done,” the Herald said, though they sounded distracted as they turned back to Naidi. “Ryla Magala is the heir, yes?” Naidi’s expression must have shifted again, for the Herald continued. “Yes, that is the one you have become friends with. I see it in your eyes. And I think I know how you must atone.”

  Naidi felt her heart sink, and she knew what the Herald would say even before they spoke.

  “You will kill her.” He raised a hand to stifle an outburst from Tarnus; the man’s eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. “Not until her usefulness is spent, but when this is done, you will kill her. Personally. This is how you atone, Sister Evar, and until her blood covers your dagger, you are on probation with the Heraldic Council. Am I clear?”

  No. No, please. Naidi swallowed. “Yes, Master Herald.”

  “Good. I expect you will do the right thing.”

  The Herald turned back to Tarnus, and they talked for several minutes longer. Naidi tried to pay attention to its words, but her mind betrayed her, drifting constantly.

  Killing Ryla. Killing the only friend she’d ever known.

  You always knew it would come to this, a part of her whispered. You’re a fool for letting yourself have a friend in the first place.

  That part of her was right. And, as the Herald ended the call and the holoscreen faded, leaving them in darkness, she found the strength to steel herself.

  I will do what must be done. I am a member of the Silver Dawn.

  I do not rest until death is defeated.