The catacombs were brighter than the rest of the undercity. Fey light flickered in silver sconces, ice blue and arcane purple casting everything in a cold glow.

I heard Caligula’s whispers twisting around me as I descended, goading me on. There was anticipation in the stale, choked air. These catacombs had been a place of power once, before Caligula. Now it was a dead husk, a host for Caligula.

Deeper within, I saw signs of her presence. Old, disfigured statues. Ritual circles, marred. Makeshift quarters and tattered beds. A cult had once lived here, below the city, among the dead. Caligula’s cult.

There were no murals depicting her rise and fall. No journals or autobiographies to scour. Every piece of art and history in the catacombs had been broken. Shards of a vase, torn recruitment posters. There were bodies, too. These ones were skeletal, but not as decayed as the ossified walls. Her followers, murdered.

The imperials had destroyed Caligula’s stronghold before sealing her ghost inside. I wondered if they had trapped the ghosts of her cultists in crystal, or if Caligula had eaten them all over the lost centuries.

When I was thoroughly lost, I stumbled into the heart of the catacombs: an underground cathedral.

The cathedral was cold, colder than anywhere else in the city. The air tasted like a winter morning, crisp and brittle. Shattered pews lined the central walkway, and bone carvings adorned the walls on either side. Some of them weren’t even carvings, just preserved skeletons arranged in watchful poses.

I walked down the aisle with my head held high. At the end of it, a jagged altar cleaved in two. I picked up a crystal shard lying in the gouge and tapped it against stone a few times. It was inert, but the material was familiar: the altar had once been an Ossuary like the Council’s.

Past the altar sat a throne, and on that throne sat the decayed corpse of Caligula. I looked at the throne and I felt a stirring of desire. I deserved a throne.

Her skeleton was wearing the same fancy robe as her ghost, and I noticed a black ring on one finger bone. I stepped over the altar, lifted her hand, and slipped off the ring.

There was power to it, power like Nero’s bracer. It slid onto my forefinger comfortably. Immediately, I felt stronger. My skin crawled, my heart raced. Magic slithered through my veins with greater intensity than ever before. I felt my ghost. My essence. My power.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “This is power. Real power. What is it? I felt an item like this in Nero’s throne room, the bracer on his corpse.”

Caligula glided over to her throne and sat on it, occupying the same space as her skeleton and almost melding with it. “They are artifacts created by kindred alchemists. Kindred magic bonded with Ancient material. Each one has a… unique quality. The ring gives its master regenerative capabilities. Faster than the healing arts, too.”

I peered at the ring curiously. I drew my sword and ran my fingers along the edge until they bled. The pain felt good, and looking at spilled blood woke something in me. In seconds, all the cuts healed. “Useful. What does his bracer do?”

“It was created after my time, on another world, but through careful effort I have learned of its nature: an amplifier. He used it for his glamour.” Caligula’s glowing eyes gleamed as she revealed that tidbit, and it only took me a moment to realize the greater implication.

“That’s how Nero kept control for so long. That’s why the Triumvirate waited so long to act against him. He was glamouring them.”

“Not just them. Nero’s tendrils were wrapped around the whole city.” Caligula smiled thinly. “I can think of a great many uses for an artifact like that. Can you?”

Scenarios ran through my head. All of them exciting. “Yes. Oh, yes.” I glanced back at the broken Ossuary. “And I think I’m beginning to understand what you were planning.”

She laughed. “That you know I was planning something is clever enough. The dogs that came for me never figured it out, and they were esteemed warlocks of the grand and glorious empire.” Disdain dripped from every word. “Centuries ago, I called it luck that they killed me. In truth, I made mistakes. I was sloppy. We shall not make those same errors, my apprentice.”

“No, we won’t.” I matched her smirk. “I’m going to eat the empire whole.”

A chill wind swept through the cathedral and Caligula frowned.

“What?”

She growled, “Strix.”

I turned around to face the cathedral entrance and saw the First Consul standing in the doorway with half a dozen armored ghosts. “Valerian. Caligula. Having a nice chat?”

My lip curled. “Feeling suicidal, dead woman? You’re a bit late to stop me. You’re not strong enough to take on both of us.”

Caligula growled again. “Pointless sacrifice was never Strix’s style, apprentice. She has just done something very inconsiderate aboveground.”

Strix folded her arms. “You should have killed me when you had the chance, Caligula. When I realized I couldn’t stop Valerian from running to you, I also remembered your grand plan. So I talked to an old friend.”

I recognized that armor. Royal. “You cut a deal with Nero? The bastard who killed you?”

“Better an impotent emperor than a soul-devouring monster. Right now, in the streets above, Nero’s soldiers are cutting down every citizen they can find. By the time you learn how to use the dark art, there’ll be no ghosts left in the city for you to eat.”

I stared at her. I let the shock wash over me. Then, I laughed. I cackled with manic glee. “You, you are something else. I keep underestimating you, Strix. It takes real guts to genocide your own people. I’ll try to learn from your example.” I grinned at her. “Let’s kill her, teacher.”

“With pleasure.”

Six imperial guards charged me while Strix darted behind a broken bench. I blasted them with lightning, obviously. With the ring bolstering my stamina, the greater form of my lightning came easily. Agony magic surged in vicious waves and sent all six staggering. They were strong though, strong enough to take another few steps, gritting their spectral teeth through the pain.

I upped the intensity, and delivered a wicked smile as Caligula reached the first of them and ripped out his glowing heart. She crushed it, breathed in the wisps of energy, and devoured that ghost greedily. Two guards turned from me and lunged at her, slashing wildly, professional training broken by unceasing torture.

Strix moved in the background, creeping closer and closer, using the environment as cover. Her lapdogs kept most of my attention, slowing resisting my ministrations. They were too strong-willed, too bolstered by Nero and Strix.

I cut off the flow of magic to the three guards at my side. In the distance, Caligula devoured another guard, and I let my lightning fade from her last opponent. She could handle it.

Four ghosts came at me and I rolled away from the first spear stab. Three guards surrounded me and I roared my hatred. Crackling agony magic exploded in all directions and sent them all stumbling back. Strix filled the gap, lunging for my neck with her dagger. I lunged at the same time, going low. I fell right through her and emerged the other side, cold and gasping but avoiding her attack.

Another choked gasp from behind me, and Caligula returned to my side. She said, “I haven’t feasted this well in decades. You’ve overplayed your hand, Strix. You’re vulnerable.”

The First Consul wasn’t bothering to hide her emotions anymore. Frustration played in the lines around her eyes and in her clenched fists. “Damn you, warlock. And your little heir.” Then the tension eased, and a cruel smirk replaced her glare. “At least I bought the world some time. Soldiers, hold them off.” The royal guards charged again, and Strix ran to the cathedral entrance.

I made to blast with her lightning but Caligula shook her head. “She can’t run forever.”

We dealt with Strix’s minions easily. A bit of sorcery, a bit of consumption, and the cathedral was ours again. I only let myself revel in victory for a few seconds before asking, “How do I learn the third path?”

Caligula smiled and returned to her throne. “The dark art is a glorious one, and it is also the most difficult to master. Artifacts, my personal tutelage, and your own instincts will make it easier, of course. It is the magic of consumption, feasting, hunger. The ability to devour the life force of your enemies, be they flesh or ether.”

I tilted my head. “I’ve been hungry before, but never felt magic in it.”

“Ah, but that is not true hunger, just its shadow. Craving for a snack is not hunger. Dinner after a long day’s work is not hunger. No, hunger is carnal and visceral. It is what you feel when you look at my throne. It is what drives you to slay Nero. It is why you came to this city, is it not?” She steepled her fingers as she waited for my answer.

“You talk about hunger like it’s about power, not food.”

“Because it is.” Caligula gestured to the rows of pews, and my gaze was drawn to rag-garbed skeletons. “My most prodigal acolytes had been slaves and servants before they came to me. The wealth-born, the fat-fed, they knew hunger only as a triviality to be corrected. But the destitute, for them hunger was a constant companion. It was a reaper.

“Hunger is knowing that someone else controls your food supply. Hunger is scrounging for scraps. Hunger is the burning hatred that festers in your heart when you look at the gilded bedchamber of the glutton who keeps you from eating because you spilled a drop of wine.” Raw, pure malevolence radiated from Caligula.

“You’re speaking from experience.”

She chuckled. “Yes… yes, I am. Does that surprise you, Valerian? It surprised Strix, learning that a slave girl could become the most powerful warlock of her time. But that is because the imperials were fools who thought they could suppress our magic.”

“Our?” I stared at her. “Wait, how could you learn that if you were a slave? I thought only kine were slaves. And I thought only kindred could learn kindred magic.”

“My apprentice, kine are kindred. Just ones from other worlds, with other skin, shackled with devices and implements to restrain their potential.”

The revelation hit me like a bag of bricks. I clutched the altar for support and rested more of my weight on it. “So you escaped, then. And removed those… implements.”

“Anger. Detachment. Hunger. Slaves know these well, Valerian. Magic came naturally to me. So naturally, in fact, that my collar could not suppress it entirely. When I saw inside myself and found that magic waiting, I knew that the world the empire had built was false. Breakable. I learned to inflict pain, and to deceive, and to consume.”

Silence.

I looked at the shards of her Ossuary and toyed with them idly. “Well, you’re right. I’ve never felt hunger like that. I’ve eaten from well-stocked kitchens, and when there was nothing I wanted from there, our forests were lush and bountiful. Our seas full of fish. I’ve never wanted for… anything, until a few weeks ago. All my life, everything came easy to me. I was destined to be the Chosen One, and everyone could see it. For years, I trained, I competed, but it was all an illusion. They knew I would win. I knew I would win.”

“And then?”

“They denied me. Their precious little Council. Called me a threat, and pushed me out. I felt hunger then, I think. Hunger for the power they were trying to take away. I opened a portal, and that just made it worse. They exiled me. That stung. It stung worse when my old rival turned up.” My lip curled at the memory of Duncan. “She offered her aid. We came to this city because I thought there was prophecy here. Something to convince the Council that I was the Chosen One.”

“And now?”

I looked up from the shards and straight at Caligula. “I’m done playing their game. I’m not Chosen. I don’t need to be. I will take, and take, and destroy everything in my way.”

“What are you willing to do? What would you sacrifice for power?”

“Anything. Everything.”

Amusement twinkled in her eyes, but her tone was serious. “Are you sure about that? My methods are extreme, Valerian. If you want to learn the dark art, if you want to learn it quickly, you will suffer. You will starve. You may go mad.”

“And at the end of it all… will I be strong enough to kill Nero? Strong enough to devour this city? Strong enough to conquer this world?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m willing.”

Caligula smiled. “Then it is time for you to become a warlock. You are ready.”

I found Strix conspiring with Cossus and a few ghosts I didn’t recognize.

“Strix. Meeting, now. I don’t care who you bring.”

I walked off and found a wide open, circular area to wait. It didn’t take long for the two Consuls and my two companions to join me.

“The third path. What is it, Strix?”

Her face paled, which was impressive for a ghost. “How do you- Caligula. She’s been talking to you.”

The others looked confused, even Cossus. I smirked. “You’ve been keeping secrets, First Consul. From all of us, it seems. Now spill.”

Everyone turned to her for answers, and Strix clenched her fists. “That is not information you need to know.”

“Bullshit. There’s been a shortcut all this time and you kept it from us. Kept it from me. No more hiding, Strix. No more secrets. Tell them about the third path.” Strix just turned away from us and stood still.

Cossus furrowed his brow. “Why does that sound familiar? And that name, too. Caligula. I should know this. Damn Nero, and damn this frail form.”

I pointed at Strix and my voice rose. “Lies after lies after lies. About your identity, about your cause, and about power. I could have killed Nero days ago if you hadn’t been so obsessed with your little politics game. You are a coward, Strix.”

She whirled on me and shouted, “I am the only one thinking clearly! That creature is a monster, and if you learn from her you will be a monster too. Her magic is wrong, Valerian. It is darkness. It is chaos. The third path leads only to destruction and misery, to terrors worse than Nero can conjure up.”

Cossus snapped his fingers and said, “I’ve got it!” Then his face darkened. “Ah. I see.”

Duncan and Finn looked at each other. “We still don’t.”

I waved my hand in their direction. “Fill them in.”

Cossus hesitated, but Strix wasn’t talking. “Caligula was a warlock, a very powerful warlock with very dangerous ideas. Years ago – before my time, before Nero’s time – she attempted a coup. She had this cabal of warlocks who had learned a forbidden art from her, a dark magic that let them drain vitality, survive mortal wounds, and… devour ghosts.

“Caligula was crafty. Her coup failed, but she retreated to the catacombs beneath the city. She wrapped herself in ritual after ritual, knowing that imperial soldiers would come for her. She slaughtered dozens, close to a hundred soldiers before they finally killed her. In death, she was still dangerous, and so the empire’s most skilled mages sealed her away. Trapped in her own catacombs lair for all time.”

I smiled without teeth. “Don’t you see? The power she wielded, the power she still wields, it can be mine. I could finally harm ghosts, take their strength for my own. No more proxy wars, no more spectral soldiers. Just me, my magic, and Nero’s little fortress.”

Strix made another outburst. “Caligula is evil! Her power is dark, and corrupt, and it will consume you. Power like that, quick and cheap and easy, it has too many negatives, too many risks. Caligula idolized strength, but it isn’t worth the high price. You’re making a huge mistake, Valerian.”

“How do you know that? How do you know so much about her?”

I struck a nerve. She blustered, “It doesn’t matter. What matters-”

“The two of you have history. What history, Strix? What offer did Caligula make you? Or did she deny you? Is that why you hate her?”

Strix stalked toward me, rage creeping into her movements. “She did not deny me. She begged to make me her apprentice, to teach me dark and terrible things. Caligula wanted an heir, but I saw through her lies, her insane ideology. I took the better path, and I helped build the empire into something glorious, until people like her cost us everything!”

I sneered. “And here you are. A ghost. A powerless ghost, too. You disgust me. You could have had power, real power, but you traded it for what? A few political allies? Your precious Triumvirate? Don’t act like you’re better than me, you deceitful, treacherous snake.”

I gestured at our onlookers. Cossus looked worried, Finn wary, and Duncan disturbed.

“They can see it. So why can’t you? Just cut the bullshit and admit you don’t have a choice. If you want Nero off his throne, you’re going to have to play this my way. And that means working with Caligula.”

Strix slumped. She exhaled, and nothing came out. She leaned against a wall, head in her hands.

Duncan looked between us. “Gwyn, are you sure about this?”

“More than anything.”

Cossus wrung his hands. “Well, this is all a bit of a mess. Why did you keep this from us, Bellistrix? We were your closest allies. We were your friends. Did Caria know?”

Strix’s voice came out clear despite her hands obscuring her mouth. “No. I alone bore the burden of that knowledge. You don’t understand, old friend. You never saw her. You never saw what she was capable of. I did.”

“Why? How?”

“I… I was young, and foolish. I wanted an easy path to power. I wanted to change the world. I ignored the warnings, I heard only the rumors, and I went down into the catacombs. I found her, or rather she found me. She offered to teach me, and I wanted to learn. I craved the power that only she had ever mastered. But I saw the real Caligula. The serpent beneath the mask. She wanted to destroy everything I wanted to build. I ran. And I found the two of you.”

I walked up to her and held her gaze. “One chance, Strix. One choice. I can find Caligula again without your help. But I’m offering you a place in whatever world I build.”

Strix looked away, toward the camp of ghosts.

“They’re not going to serve you without me. Try it, and you’ll lose every ounce of credibility you have.”

There was quiet. Everyone waited for her answer with bated breath.

Strix looked me in the eyes, curled her lip, and said, “No.”

She started to walk away. Cossus reached out for her. “Strix!”

“The empire is dead, old friend. I was just too blind to realize. There’s nothing for us here. It’s time to rest.”

Cossus hesitated, looked back at me, then followed her out.

I laughed. I laughed again. Manic giggles erupted from my throat as I watched the dead woman and her lackey leave. It was amusing, certainly. But I needed clarity, not laughter. I stifled my joy and forced the cold to return.

Glamour came baying at my call like a dim-witted dog, and I reached out for Strix. There was resistance, all the shields she had put up, but she was still a ghost. Still frail. I was strong. I pushed through her and read her thoughts.

She was plotting, of course. Always plotting, that one. She was going to warn Nero. Her last act of resistance. Apparently she thought I was worse than him. I didn’t care if she was right. I didn’t care if she succeeded. With Caligula’s gift, I would be unstoppable.

I let them go and said to my allies, “Come on. Let’s go find the catacombs.”

They followed. Reluctantly, but they followed. It didn’t take long for the whispers to start up; I had a feeling Caligula was watching our argument. Probably smiling. I followed the whispers through the undercity, keeping an even pace throughout. My moment was at hand, and I had no intention of slowing down.

The undercity was vast, but Caligula knew all the shortcuts. Her whispers guided us through tunnels and sewers and hidden corridors. It took an hour, maybe two, but we arrived at the catacombs.

This time, it wasn’t a tiny offshoot. We were at the proper entrance: a yawning maw leading deeper into the undercity, into the bone pits and skull-lined hallways. Two statues flanked the entrance, a man and a woman, weeping.

The whispers intensified as we neared, then stopped once I stood in front of the statues. I could feel magic radiating from them, warding magic put in place centuries ago to seal away a single prisoner. I could feel the rips in that net, the little pinpricks that let Caligula extend her influence throughout the undercity. More proof that I had made the right choice.

I stepped forward and Duncan grabbed my arm.

“Gwyn. Don’t do this.”

I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Please. Remember what I said, what I promised. It doesn’t have to be this way.” There was yearning in her eyes, and fear. I reached out with glamour, brushed aside her meager defenses, and felt a painful core deep inside her, a wound that had never healed. She was fragile, and lost, and her heart bled. It bled for a thousand sorrows, and in that moment it bled for me.

I tore my arm away. “This is what needs to happen, Duncan. This is my destiny.”

She laughed, and it was closer to crying. “Fuck destiny. Think about what you’re doing. About the cost. What will you become? What if that darkness corrupts you?”

I laughed too, but mine had a spiteful edge. “Corrupts me? No, that’s not something that happens. Corruption is a nice little excuse to do the things you always wanted to do. Corruption is justification for whatever you always were.”

“I can’t believe that. I… I’ve seen good in you. I’ve seen decency. Heroism, even. You used to help people. You were the chosen one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Haven’t you gotten the big picture yet? There is no prophecy. There is no chosen one. I was just the only one strong enough to claim that title. It’s all bullshit, okay? Your religion is a lie.”

She flinched as if I’d hit her, but she kept talking. “I… I don’t care. That’s not what this is about. You’re right, the prophecy doesn’t matter. The chosen one doesn’t matter. But you were still a hero, once.”

“No, I wasn’t. And I have no intention of being a hero, ever. I’ve found my destiny. If you’re not with me in this, you’re against me. Just like Morgan, and the Council, and Strix.” My hand drifted to the hilt of my sword.

There was shock on her face, and the fear swirling around inside her head was getting thicker. “Gwyn…”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped. “That’s the stupid name they gave me. I am Valerian. I am grand. I am powerful.”

It clicked in her head. She finally got it, the precious little idiot. Took her long enough. I was getting so tired of her misguided faith.

She turned to my last loyal follower. “Finn. Finn, say something. You know her better than I do. You can stop her. Please.”

He hesitated. He mouthed. He strained. But he just shook his head and said, “This is my place. I have nowhere else to go.”

I smiled, slowly. “He knows the value of loyalty to the powerful. You clearly don’t. So if you have such a problem with my magic, if you’re so afraid of what I might become… stop me.” I lazily drew my blade and tapped it against the ground. “Come and have a go. Maybe you finally have what it takes to be the real hero. But I don’t think so. I think you’re going to run away.”

For a moment, a single shining moment, it looked like Duncan might grow a spine. I dared to dream that she might finally be the rival I wanted. But no.

She ran.

I watched her until she was a shadow in the distance, and then I descended into the lair of my new teacher.

“More. I want more.”

Strix nodded. “Agreed. We have momentum, and we need to use it.”

We were gathered in Asellio’s house once more, in a makeshift war room. Maia and Felix hung back while Strix, Cossus, and I huddled over an old map of the city.

“With all the new recruits, we finally have a large enough force to start challenging Nero’s grip over the city.”

“Enough to strike at the heart?” I gave Strix an intense look.

“Not quite. He is still well-defended, and the whole city will come for us the moment we make a move on the palace itself. No, for now we must chip away at his allies. With each victory, more will flock to our cause, and his loyal dogs will fall like dominoes.”

Cossus nodded. “Zeal still infuses the air, but that will fade. You have gained a following, and now you must show them that victory is possible. A series of assaults on imperial stores and armories, perhaps?”

Strix shook her head. “Valerian was right. The best way to capitalize on our momentum, the best way to proceed, is to strike like lightning. We hit big targets, one after the other. Starting with Pictor.” She tapped the errant Lord’s estate on the map.

I grinned. “I like the sound of that plan.”

Cossus said, “So do I. I’m eager to get some revenge on the bastard. Are you sure about this, though? Pictor will have called in his troops. He is Nero’s most ardent supporter, and I cannot imagine him sitting idly by through all this. His estate will be the most fiercely-guarded in the city.”

Strix said, “All the more reason. Killing Pictor will send the strongest message. Besides, we have the advantage of two warlocks to his zero. With close to even numbers, our victory is guaranteed.”

I shrugged. “Good enough for me. When can we attack?”

“A day. I suggest you spend the time practicing your magic. You’ll need every edge you can get.”

We ended the meeting and separated to perform our tasks. Strix would handle the diplomatic angle, Cossus the strategic, and I spent the time honing my sorcery. That energy I unleashed against the imperials, I needed more of it. I needed to conjure it at will.

Strix had opened my mind to new avenues of power, but there were yet secrets to explore. I found a quiet place and retreated into myself. I reached for those wells of magic once more, feeling sorcery and glamour flickering in the dark. Power, burning inside me, aching to be released.

There were empty spaces that I hadn’t noticed before. Hollowness. Two empty spaces had been filled in during the speech: one for glamour, one for sorcery. There were more. There was a vast hollownees separate from either well of power. A chasm, or a rift. There was power there, but locked away.

Could this be a third magic? Another warlock ability that Strix had yet to reveal? Or was it merely the healing art, and impossible for me to access?

I needed to learn more. There were three warlocks alive, and of them, I was the only one who really seemed interested in exploring our powers. The only interested in strength. Duncan and Mal could never immerse themselves in kindred magic like I had. They were weak.

I spent the whole night practicing, switching between anger and detachment smoothly. Slowly, I focused my abilities and enhanced them. By the time the sun came up, I could read a room or use supercharged sorcery with ease.

I slept again, and this time there were no dreams.

Night fell, I awoke, and we rode out. Well, we walked for part of it, but we also brought the boat around closer to Pictor’s estate. Strix and Cossus explained more about ghostly limitations: bridges worked fine, but for a ghost to board a boat there needed to be preparations. An object to anchor the spirit, and a ritual like those used to fortify a kindred before death.

“What about a Gate?” I asked.

Strix cocked her head. “A Gate?”

“If I opened the Gate from here to the island, could you pass through it without trouble?”

She nodded. “With ease. Fallen heroes returned from battle through the Gate, and ghostly advisers followed generals into battle on foreign soil.”

“Interesting.”

She quirked an eyebrow at me. “What are you pondering, Valerian? What plan are you dreaming up?”

I chuckled lowly. “Nothing. Just thinking about ghosts and Gates. Thinking about home, too.”

“I expect the islanders would be very impressed with an invincible army showing up on their shore.”

“Yes, yes I do believe they would be.” I smirked, and we kept walking.

As the darkness settled, we arrived at the bridge to Pictor’s estate. There, two glowing, spectral armies faced off.

The two guards from earlier had retreated from the city side of the bridge and joined ranks with a few hundred legionaries armed with shields, blades, and crossbows. They were waiting on Asellio’s grounds, watching us nervously. I saw two officers walking behind lines, shouting orders, but no sign of Pictor. The coward was hiding inside.

Our army had gotten surprisingly big. We had, from a brief head count, about a hundred more soldiers than Pictor did. Four contingents, each one with an attache from the noble who had donated the militia. They were waiting on our side of the bridge, eager for battle. If they had been alive, there would be banners and war tents. Alas, we had to make our command area in an old shop with broken windows.

We gathered around a dusty table, the five of us and a general something or other. Cossus outlined our battle plan.

“The real target is Lord Pictor. Kill him, we send the most powerful message we can. It’ll be first blood, and tell every noble in the city that they’re with us or against us. And there’s a high price for going against us.”

Strix nodded. “If Nero can’t protect his most loyal dog, what use is he to any other Lord? The fools will stand by him, of course, but the rest will begin to doubt, and from those seeds we shall nourish rebellion.”

“Strix, you should go with Valerian and Maia to hunt Pictor personally. I’ll send a squad with you, but this is more likely to be a stealth mission than full combat. Felix, stay behind with me, be a fresh pair of eyes. The general will help me manage strategy and unit orders. Everyone ready?”

We all nodded, and Cossus gave the order. Battle began.

Our ranks charged theirs, and our little command group split up. Maia and I (plus a squad of legionaries) followed Strix through the streets to a pothole.

I looked at it, then her. “The sewers again?”

“Indeed. The undercity passes under the canals surrounding Pictor’s estate. We emerge inside a near-empty manor, make our way to his own command chamber, and slaughter him.”

“Sounds good to me. Maia?”

She nodded, and if there was hesitation in her I didn’t notice it. I ripped open the entrance to below and we made our way into the undercity.

It was a faster trip now that Maia and I were familiar with it. Less distance to travel, too, which was nice. I kept expecting to meet a patrol or ambush, but nothing of the sort. Strix told me I was being paranoid, but I saw her take a few furtive glances around when she thought I wasn’t looking.

We pushed forward and reached the underground entrance to Pictor’s pathetic palace. I slipped into the dungeons and encountered the first of many inconveniences.

Three guards had been left behind, because apparently Pictor wasn’t as much of an idiot as I’d hoped. One shouted the alarm, one scrambled up the ladder to grab reinforcements, and one lunged at me with blade drawn.

I clenched one fist, remembered how Finn had kept secrets from me for years, and with my other hand I blasted all three ghosts with enough lightning to send them to their knees. I snarled to my companions, “Hostiles!”

The legionaries burst into the room and swiftly executed the guards. Above, I heard more ghostly calls. I swore vehemently and pointed my hands at the ladder, ready to unleash more power. Strix and Maia entered the room.

Strix examined the various cells and called to Maia, “Can you open these? The prisoners might be useful.” Maia nodded and set to work. Strix continued, “Hello, prisoners. I’m here to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Swear fealty to the Empress Valerian, help us kill Lord Pictor, and you will have a place in the new order. Oh, and you’ll be free, which I expect is a nice bonus. Interested?”

The prisoners all swore fealty. Maia broke open their doors and they rushed to arm themselves from the confiscated goods chest. They took up the line with our legionaries, who were still waiting for the enemy to come down the ladder.

That wasn’t happening, which was irritating. I questioned Strix, “Got any bright ideas?”

She shook her head. “Not without clear knowledge of their numbers. Can you find out?”

“I can try.” I breathed deeply, let the cold wash in, and let my magic search. Tendrils of glamour spread through the dungeons, telling me that Maia was nervous and Strix was calm, and telling me that I was in a room with eleven other people (nine excluding Strix and Maia).

I extended my senses further, upwards, and felt a mixture of fear, anger, and loyalty. One of them was anxious, and putting pressure on him told me that he was expecting reinforcements. Pictor’s men and women, bound to him, willing to die for him. I wondered, would they feel differently if they knew this was a final death? Perhaps.

I withdrew. “Only four. But more are coming. We need to act quickly. I think I can pull this off, but everyone needs to act quickly. Follow my lead.”

They all nodded and I started climbing the ladder. As I neared the top I saw Pictor’s soldiers peeking in and readying weapons to attack once I came near. I replaced cold with fury, channeled my hatred of Nero and his ghosts and this whole damned city, and with one hand I sent as much lightning as I could into the room above.

I let my magic bloom chaotic and wild, spiraling out in unruly patterns. It ripped through all four, even the ones staying at a cautious distance. It didn’t incapacitate, but it stunned. I surged up into the room, threw myself against a wall, and blasted them with more magic before they could get up.

The prisoners came up the ladder next, then Duncan. I let my anger dissipate and returned to glamour, throwing my senses out in a net to catch any new arrivals while my followers dueled and dispatched the four enemies.

“Four more coming down that hall. Think you can handle it?” I pointed to the hall in question and Duncan nodded. She took the prisoners and headed down that way, while Strix and the legionaries joined me.

I cast my net again, wider this time, straining, focusing my will on the cold reality of my task, pushing aside everything but my determination. I tapped into that new aspect of my glamour, that newness in the well of power. My senses went wider, wider, until I could reach Pictor’s war room.

The Lord himself was confident. Too confident. His cronies were less so. I focused on Pictor, forced myself into his head, into his emotions, until I could hear surface thoughts.

He was… amused. Comforting his lieutenants, promising them greatness. They questioned him, questioned how he could be so confident in the face of such dangers. Anger, flickering anger at me, and at the Triumvirate. Then back to amused. Conspiratorial even. He reminded them of his ace in the hole, which he had refused to reveal… until now. There was a noise in the distance, his lieutenants rushed to the windows.

Pictor had made contact with Nero, and his master had finally rewarded the whelp’s servitude. An army was coming to crush the rebels.

I pulled away from Pictor with a gasp and stared at Strix with wide eyes. “Bad. Very bad. Nero sent his forces, an imperial garrison is reinforcing Pictor. Our army will be crushed between them.”

Strix swore, then put back on her courtly mask. “This can be managed. Losses will be acceptable if we act quickly. You know where Pictor is?”

“I do.”

“Lead on. And hurry.”

I had Maia defend our exit with the prisoners. Strix and the legionaries followed me through Pictor’s mansion in search of the man himself.

There were no encounters between us and the war room, which unnerved me, but Strix explained it away as, “They’re all busy fighting our army or rushing to the dungeons.”

Then, the war room was before us. I gathered my strength, gathered my anger, hardened my will, and threw open the doors.

Pictor and a half-dozen ghosts were huddled around an old diagram, another half-dozen along the walls in guard uniforms. Pictor looked up at me, snarled something rude, and I let my sorcery take over.

Agony magic lashed out in violent arcs, ripping through every ghost with gleeful malice. Lightning danced in wild tongues, then tightened around each ghost. These were stronger-willed, growing firmer of mind by the second, and so they did not falter like the imperials at my speech.

I turned up the pressure, shoving more anger, more memory, more power from that infinite well into the chaotic energy surging out of my hands. Pictor’s aides fell to the ground, but his guards and Lord Pictor himself staggered towards us with weapons drawn.

I stepped back, keeping my concentration on the spell, and my legionaries rushed into the room. They engaged the guards and started hacking away, taking every advantage of my painful distraction. Through gritted teeth I shouted, “Kill the downed first!”

One legionary obeyed and broke from the scuffle to quickly execute the fallen aides. It cost her a blade to the leg, but with the aides banished I could draw power away from them and to the spell afflicting the guards.

They strained, will weakening, strength under assault by waves of terrible pain. My followers moved with more confidence, more speed, more ferocity. We were winning.

Pictor barreled into me, his ghostly form like ice against my skin, and I stumbled back, tripped, fell to the ground with the bastard atop me.

He had a knife, something frilly and ceremonial, spectral and glowing, but when he plunged it into my neck it hurt and I screamed.

Pictor’s form had weight, but it also didn’t. One hand was on my arm, the other stabbing me, but they didn’t feel real, didn’t feel solid, no matter how real the pain felt. The numbing cold. The lethargy taking my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

Anger. I needed more anger. The Council. The chantry. The kindred. Everyone who stood in my way. I screamed again and shoved a fist full of lightning into Pictor’s face. He jerked back, I freed my arm, and I rolled away from him – through him.

My whole body felt cold now, but I jumped to my feet and blasted him again. He staggered after me, shout death threats and waving his knife, but I was ready this time. Well-timed blasts kept him away, kept him weak as he tried to attack me.

He dodged one blast, lunged for me with knife raised, and Strix slit his throat from behind.

Pictor slowly dissolved, as did the twelve ghosts that had served him. We won. Then I remembered Nero.

I walked slowly to the window and clenched my fists at the sight. Pictor’s army was broken, scattered, but so was ours. Little pockets of resistance fought against a tide of purple and gold. Pictor was dead, but our army was lost. I couldn’t see Felix or Cossus in the chaos.

I let out an angry breath and nodded to the door. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

We returned to Maia, who had done an excellent job protecting our escape route. Together we climbed back into the dungeons, and entered the undercity.

Strix tried and failed to comfort me. “Valerian, it isn’t as bad as you think.”

“Quiet. We’ll talk about that when and if we get somewhere safe.”

She obeyed, and we walked in silence. A few minutes in, we found Cossus, Felix, and a few dozen followers limping through the tunnels.

Cossus and Strix retreated to talk strategy. Felix and Maia shared stories. I kept walking, alone and silent, while my meager force followed behind.

We eventually reached the exit closest to Asellio’s house, and there I discovered the last of the night’s inconveniences: the imperial guard had attacked Marquis Asellio, and killed him. They surrounded the house, guarded it, and had smashed in the door.

Our sanctum was gone.

We took shelter in the undercity.

Strix and the others talked logistics. They said this wasn’t a complete loss, that there were many more eager to follow me who had not been caught in the two ambushes. I ignored all of them.

In the dark, I fumed. I found an alcove as far away from the group as I could and sat there, fists clenched. I didn’t have words to express my frustration, so I just growled and kicked things.

Bullshit. It was all such bullshit. I was the chosen one. I was important.

Stop repeating yourself. It’s annoying.

Shut up. This is my destiny.

Years. Years I’d spent training for a purpose, taking part in stupid trials and competing with pathetic losers for a title that was rightfully mine. Vesta was right: I didn’t care about the kindred. Not like the others did, I could see that now. Duncan and Finn, they felt empathy. I didn’t.

I understood the concept. I knew how to make people feel pain, and fear. But their pain was not my pain. Their hopes were not mine. The prophecy didn’t matter. The invaders didn’t matter, if they even existed. It was about power, in the end. Wasn’t everything?

Maybe you got what you deserved.

Shut. Up.

I was owed this. Owed this by the Council, by the chantry, by the whole damn world. They were supposed to make me their chosen one. Instead, I was in a sewer with a bunch of ghosts, because I wasn’t strong enough to open a pair of doors.

They didn’t matter. The doors. The library. I knew what I would find if I went in there: nothing. Nothing to prove the prophecy, because in all likelihood there was no prophecy. I could see it in Strix’s eyes. Duncan and Finn felt it too, but they were afraid. The chantry was all they had ever known.

I wondered if I was meant to travel to the city. What was the alternative? If I’d become chosen one, in time they would have cast me down anyways, when they realized there was no army coming, when they understood that the empire had destroyed everything it touched and left no remnants to rise up against the survivors of our self-made catastrophe.

The chantry was doomed from the start. If not Vesta, then the Council. If not the Council, then the chantry’s own people, or the islanders, or the ghosts.

No, this was the only way. This city of the dead, full of pliant fools and eager blades. I shouldn’t have been so mad about it. What is a few days to a lifetime of work? But I was used to getting my way. Now, this latest setback was a slap in the face. I’d suffered too many setbacks. Too many losses.

Strix found me. I told her, “I’m not interested in talking,” but she didn’t listen.

“Valerian, this is not the end. This is barely even a setback. We won today.”

I stopped staring at the wall and glared at her. “Really? I don’t feel very victorious.”

“We killed a powerful Lord and survived an ambush by Nero’s forces. Though we lost troops, they were expendable. The most important message of the day, the message that will resonate, is that Empress Valerian is strong, and her soldiers are loyal. More will come, trust me. They will flock to your banner.”

“And how long will that take? How much more time and effort need we invest before we can strike at the heart? Every night spent doing anything other than fighting against Nero is a night wasted. I want that throne, Strix. I despise these political games, and I despise these setbacks.”

For the first time, Strix lost her temper. “You are a child.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“You are a petulant brat whining and moaning about your victories not being spectacular enough. Do you know who you remind me of, Valerian? Sorry, Gwyn. Of course not, because you know nothing about your own history. You are sheltered, naive, reckless, and foolish. You are arrogant, and prodigal magic alone is not enough to justify your ego. You remind me of Nero, and of sovereigns before him who died because they lacked the patience and foresight to manage an empire.”

I lashed back, “And when I’m Empress, will you plot against me like you plotted against them? Will you try to control me? I will not be your puppet, dead woman. I will not play your game.”

“You don’t have a choice. I am your only ally in this city. I can hurt you, Gwyn. I can do far more to you than you could ever do to me.”

I smirked. “Wrong. You need me more than I need you, ghost. Before I arrived, you spent three centuries in stasis, wandering a city of idiots repeating the same day over and over again. The most interesting thing to happen to you in three centuries was learning that your friend and conspirator got captured.”

“I can find another heir.”

“No,” I snapped, “you can’t. Duncan is too kind-hearted. Finn lacks a spine. And neither of them can open the Gate. Without me, you’ll be waiting here for three more centuries before anyone else shows up. Do you think you’ll stay sane that long, Strix? Are you even sane now?”

Our gazes locked in a battle of wills. I reached for glamour, but my blood was boiling, and I couldn’t force down my anger long enough to use that magic.

I said, “I am impatient. I am reckless. I am also dangerous. Do you think I got this far by playing the long game, Strix? No. I got here by winning. By beating down my opponents and scaring them off. I came within inches of being declared my people’s savior by being the strongest, most ruthless warrior around. I went for the throat.”

“And then they kicked you out. Take a lesson from those who have centuries more experience: the long game is the only game there is.”

My smirk came back. “And how did that work out for you?”

An ugly look flashed over her face, but she flinched and looked away. “I am still here. That is more than some can say.” She sighed.

“Go. Strategize with the others and plan out your next move. I’ll be here. Figuring out how to go for the throat.”

Slowly, Strix’s mask of platitudes returned. She swept away from me, and I was alone again.

Tension. That’s what I was feeling. Tension like I was a spring, wound up and held tight. Energy potential kept seething below the surface. Brief moments of release, of lashing out with lightning and biting words. But it wasn’t enough. It still seethed. Trying to fill a void.

I sighed, and laughed, and felt some of it ease away. Stress-laughter, the best kind of laughter.

A knock echoed off stone, and I looked behind me. Duncan was there, watching me. Her face was unreadable, and I still couldn’t control myself enough to use glamour.

“Can I sit?”

I nodded, and she sat down next to me.

“You okay?”

I laughed a little, then said in a low voice, “Finn asks me that sometimes, too. He knows he’s not going to get a proper answer, but he still asks.”

“He’s your friend.” It sounded so simple when she said it.

“I’m the biggest, baddest wolf, so he stays by me to keep safe. I wouldn’t read more into it than that. My survival means his survival.”

She looked worried. “That’s a bit cynical, don’t you think?”

I shrugged. “I guess. It’s worked for nineteen years, so.” I looked away from her. I tried to sort through the dark, inky mess in my head. I tried to think of things to say.

I didn’t really know how I felt about Duncan. I still didn’t know how to deal with her revelation. I was an ass. I could understand that, objectively, but I just… I didn’t feel guilty, and in some way, that made me feel guilty?

I knew that I should feel worse about my behavior, but I couldn’t. It was me.

I managed, “I’m bad at saying sorry. But, if I could, I would.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s an interesting way to get out of apologizing.”

“I’m creative.”

A tiny laugh escaped her. “You are. That’s one of your few good traits.”

I pressed my hand to my chest in mock horror. “What exactly are you suggesting, dear friend?”

She raised her other eyebrow. “It’s dear friend now, is it?”

I leaned back, laughed, and sighed. “I’m sorry. For all of it. For being terrible. For being horrendously bad at reading signals, and for ignoring all the times Finn tried to convince me I shouldn’t be so hard on you.”

“Did you ever feel anything? Or… was it just hatred and contempt all those years?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” I remembered all my years in the chantry. I remembered fighting, and training, and exploring. “I think you’re cute, if that means anything. And I think you’re a better person than me.” I laughed bitterly. “Not sure what you ever saw in me, to be honest.”

Duncan smiled. “Yeah. I think I saw your arrogance as confidence. And you’re strong, and not afraid to be who you are, which is nice. I don’t know how to think of you anymore.”

“Me neither.”

She hesitated, then said, “You don’t have to go down this road. You don’t have to be… what they want you to be.”

I looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to be the chosen one. You don’t have to be the Empress.” She grabbed my hand. “Gwyn… I believe that there is good in you. I believe that everyone can change, if we choose to change. Come with me. Leave all this behind, and we can make a better life than the one we’ve been given. No more chantry. No more ghosts. Just life.”

I stared at her, trying to comprehend.

“We could explore the world. We could explore other worlds, even. We could do anything.” She bit her lip. “I don’t know if I still have a crush on you, and I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend. I just want you to live a happy, full life, and I don’t think you will as what Strix wants you to be, or what Morgan wanted you to be.”

I’d never… never once considered it. Could I do that? Could I run away from everything, and live for the sake of living?

I looked into Duncan’s eyes, and I didn’t need glamour to see her earnest heart. She cared, not just about me but about everyone. And she really thought she saw something in me, something more than a power-hungry brute with delusions of grandeur.

What if she was right? What if all this time, I’d been chasing the wrong destiny?

“I…”

Whispers in the dark.

Caligula, calling my name. I stumbled to my feet and lurched off into the undercity.

“Gwyn!” Duncan called after me.

“I have to see someone! It’s important!”

I raced off into the tunnels, following the whispers. Delving deeper into the undercity until I reached the edge of the catacombs. I saw light, and I pressed myself against a wall. I peeked my head around the corner and saw Caligula eating a ghost.

I was transfixed. There was Caligula, the warlock, the ghost… and she was using magic. Rivers of power flowed out of her and into her captive, and ate him whole. Chunks of ghost ripped away, drawn into Caligula and absorbed. She tore into the ghost (a commoner, perhaps) until there was nothing left but dust and silently screaming afterimages.

She turned to me and smiled. “Hello, apprentice.”

I slowly walked to meet her. “Caligula. How did you do that?”

“It’s not something Strix would teach you, that’s for certain. How did the mission go?”

“You know how it went.”

She chuckled. “Indeed. Why else would you be down here again, sulking? Do you see now that Strix is weak, and will always be weak? These half-measures will not help you take the throne, Valerian. Long-dead Lords will be of no help against Nero and his servants. You need strength. True strength, the kind that Strix is afraid of.”

I cocked my head at her. “How do you know Strix?”

“We have a history. Another secret she’s keeping. She has so many secrets, that Strix. Secrets about her past, about her motives. I wonder, do you think she’ll let you stay on that throne once she’s taken it?”

“I won’t let her kick me off it.”

“An admirable intention, but what can you do to a ghost?” Her grin widened, and I got the hint.

“What you did to that ghost, that’s magic. That’s a power that can be taught, right?”

“Indeed. A secret that Strix doesn’t want you – or anyone else – to know. True power. Strix abandoned true power long ago. But you, you know it. You can feel the ache, can’t you? The hunger?”

I could. I felt the void inside me, yearning to be filled – no, to fill itself. To devour. “There’s a well of power inside me, magic I can’t access, but I can feel it. That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it?”

“The third path. The dark art. Forbidden by the empire, forbidden by Lords afraid of what it could do. Afraid for their second lives. Afraid of me. I can show you that path, Valerian. I can teach you how to take. How to devour.”

“With power like that… I could take on the Emperor by myself. I could devour his whole court.”

“You begin to see. Strix is a fool, obsessed with material things. Like fools before her and fools after her, she can only see what others have told her to see. Structures and systems. They say that power is a crown, or a shackle, or the respect of a crowd. But they are wrong. Power is an iron fist, and a steel boot. Power is in the taking. When your enemies lie dead at your feet, when you can feel your blood sing with triumph, that is power.”

I felt hungry, like she was talking about her favorite meal rather than about empires and conquests. “Power.”

“It’s what I think you’ve always wanted, Valerian. You just didn’t know it. You and I are kindred spirits. We are not driven by their petty ideals. We do not bow to their attachments, their false loyalties. We are a breed above. Strix and her kind call themselves Lords. But the world died, and now they see how powerless they have always been. But I? I still feast. I am still strong, even caged in this wretched catacomb.”

Caligula sneered and pounded a fist against an invisible wall at the edge of the bones.

“Go to Strix. Tell her of the third path. Of the dark art. Demand it be taught. And when she fails, when she admits her defeat, she will bring you to me, and I shall teach you all that I know. I shall teach you power, my apprentice. And you shall become so much more than they could ever understand.”

I nodded and started walking away. As I left, she delivered her final proclamation.

“Power, Valerian. It is the only thing that matters.”

We spent the night making plans, practicing what we would each say, and making supply runs to the boat. Asellio’s house was our new base of operations, something reinforced when Cossus brought more ghosts to it.

He explained that they had been loyal to the Triumvirate in life, and in death would serve the majority will, which Strix and Cossus had. A few lower nobles showed up to pledge support, but the most important arrivals were the violent types: soldiers and assassins willing to fight the emperor’s servants.

There weren’t many, but there were enough to get the ball rolling. The air changed; we were hopeful again, determined. We could take on Nero. We could take the palace. I could become empress. And then the Council would bow to me. The chantry would bow to me.

The sun rose, and we slept. I dreamed of a golden army marching on a hundred worlds. I dreamed of an empire reforged. I dreamed of destiny.

In the evening I made my way to a balcony and looked out on the city. Ghostly light flickering to life, the streets filling with long-dead citizens and imperial patrols. In the distance, Nero’s palace loomed over the city.

Finn joined me on the balcony. “It’s a beautiful view, if a bit depressing.”

I nodded. There was a long stretch of silence, and then I asked, “Did you know Duncan had a crush on me?”

Finn wouldn’t look at me. “Does it matter?”

“That’s a yes, then.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I knew. For years. Part of why I asked her to run away with us. She was one of the only people who might have.”

That was news to me. “I thought she came on her own.”

“Maybe she would have, but I talked to her. I didn’t ask her, not really, but I knew it would happen when I went to her. I manipulated her, I guess.”

I clenched my fists. “Why did you never tell me? For years I competed with her, mocked her, and you’re saying that it was all a misunderstanding? That every time she talked back, every time she bragged to me, she was just trying to flirt?”

“I tried to tell you! I kept insisting that Duncan was a better person than you thought, that you should befriend her, that your competition would be the death of you. You didn’t listen.”

I let that sank in. In the distance, lights moved in erratic patterns.

“At some point I just gave up. And… maybe I didn’t want it to happen in the first place. You were my only friend, and vice versa. I guess a part of me was afraid of being forgotten.”

I chuckled. “You’re not going to admit a crush of your own, are you?”

He rolled his eyes at me. “No, I’m not. Love and sex don’t interest me. Even if they did, I’m not sure you’d be a good match.”

I smiled. “Agreed. I don’t think I’m a good match for anyone, honestly.”

“Yeah.”

More silence.

Finn made to say something several times before working up the nerve. “Do you ever hate what you are, Gwyn?”

I thought about it. It was a serious question, and I knew where it was coming from. “I don’t think I do. I think I get annoyed with myself sometimes, but I can’t hate myself. I’m too vain.” I laughed, but it wasn’t really a joke. “I’m selfish, and I can be cruel. I’m violent. Temperamental. I’d call myself manipulative, but I’ve never been skilled enough – socially speaking – to pull that off.”

“But you’re okay with those traits?”

“Yeah, I am. They’re me. I keep thinking about the Council, actually. The things they said. They were right, you know. Maybe that’s why I hated it so much. Being called out for what I am. Or maybe I just hated being denied power.” I looked away from the city and asked Finn, “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

He looked down, and chose his words carefully. “I think you have the potential to be a bad person. I don’t think it’s inevitable, though.”

I smiled again. “You never did share what you think of destiny.”

“Yeah. I guess I’m torn. What Duncan said, the idea of choice and change, that speaks to me. I want to believe that you can choose your destiny, that people can change and grow. But the chantry is built on destiny as this cosmic power, this ephemeral thing that only the prophet understood. And I guess, too, I worry that not all change is good. That there are things we are not meant to know, or to have. Power corrupts.”

“Vesta said that too. I disagree. Power doesn’t corrupt, it just reveals. If someone abuses their power, that’s just who they are. The truth behind all the lies we tell each other to seem like good people.”

“Then I guess, when we kill Nero, we’ll see if you’re a bad person or not.”

Finn left, and I practiced my speech again.

Strix fetched me when the hour arrived. “They are assembled, Valerian. Your subjects await you.”

“We’ll see how many of them are comfortable with that term. No, comfortable is the wrong word.” I clenched my fists. “This is about power. Force. They will bend the knee, regardless of how they feel about it.”

Strix smiled wryly. “Thinking like an empress, I see. Before you go, you should adopt some glamour. Your clothing is… fine, but not very regal. We want to make an impression, yes?”

I examined myself. She had a point; I was still wearing traveling clothes, which weren’t exactly imperial. “Fair, but I’m not exactly versed in imperial fashion.”

“You’ve seen enough. Just imagine something dark and intimidating, like any of the statues of past sovereigns.”

I could do that. Maybe. I hadn’t experimented with that part of glamour much, but it seemed simple enough.

I called on the cold and imagined all the depictions I’d seen of emperors and empresses. I imagined spikes and brutal edges, and I imagined flowing cloaks and jackboots. As those images filled my consciousness, I felt my magic responding. Glamour’s well of power churned within me and reached for those images. I gave them up, and witnessed them change to the whims of magic.

Watching my own magic act independently was a sensation equal parts delightful and disturbing. I wanted control back, but I didn’t dare interfere with the design of my new outfit. Then, there was a click, a feeling of anticipation, and the glamour swelled beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed.

I gave the command, and magic enveloped me.

When I opened my eyes, I was clothed and armored in imperial colors, warrior’s garb, a swirling cloak, and an iron crown.

In a rare moment, Strix lost her composure. I could see hunger in her eyes, and the way her breathing (unnecessary but habitual) changed rate. I could see her fingers twitch almost imperceptibly.

She whispered, “Empress Valerian…”

I smirked. “In the flesh. I take it I did a good job?”

Strix regained her decorum and nodded. “Yes, very good. The crown was a nice touch. It’s out of fashion with what trends were at the time, but it hearkens to the old days, to the empire’s birth. Not a mere sorcerer-lord, no mere warlock in purple and gold, but a true conqueror-queen like the first sovereign. This eases the last of my reservations about your plan.” She was lying, of course, but only partly. I could feel some tension leak out of the room.

“Let’s get going, then. I have an empire to rule.”

Strix led me downstairs, and the honor guard formed. Maia and Felix flanking me, Strix and Cossus lurking behind us, and loyal warriors surrounding us as we moved through empty streets.

As we approached the site, it became clear just how many ghosts had shown up; thousands of ghosts milled about, bumping against each other and straining to reach the market square that our followers had secured.

The crowd parted for us as we approached, and whispers spread like wildfire. I saw servants, soldiers, and nobles alike all watching us. I saw fear, anticipation, and hunger in a thousand faces. The city had woken up.

Strix noticed too. She drew closer and murmured to me, “Can you feel it in the air?”

I opened my senses and my magic. A current of energy was surging around me, power buzzing in the air, the collective thoughts of an undead city focused on this one moment, this one location. We had woken up the city, and now the ghosts churned and writhed with long-dormant energy. They strained to be unleashed, directed. “Volatile.”

She nodded. “Let us hope we can take better advantage of this energy than Nero can. Good luck.”

She withdrew and we approached the center of the crowd, the market square. Our followers held the crowd back as we took our places. There was a dry fountain in the center of the square and I climbed atop it. Strix and Cossus took the middle tier of the fountain, Maia and Felix the lowest.

I raised my hands, and the crowd stilled. The cold seeped in, and I extended my glamour across the entire crowd, feeling their emotions like the pulse of a beating heart. I moved as I spoke, facing each segment of the crowd in turn to deliver my message to all of them.

“Citizens of the empire. Lords and common folk, soldiers and servants. You have come because you are dissatisfied, and you are dissatisfied because your emperor is a fraud.”

Gasps and wide eyes swept through the crowd at my accusation.

“Nero sits upon his throne, content to bask in his power without any thought for your plight. He drinks his wine and eats his grapes, and all the while order continues to break down. Slaves riot. Thievery, murder. The Gates are still dormant, and your emperor does nothing to repair them.”

The tension in the crowd grew, but I saw people beginning to nod along.

“You deserve better. The empire deserves better. And now, it has it.” I spread my arms wide. “I am Valerian, rightful Empress of the kindred. I am a warlock without equal. I am a warrior more dangerous than any soldier in Nero’s army. Many of you have heard of me already; I deceived Lord Pictor and revealed him as a traitor to the empire.”

More shock, and confusion. Traitor?

I gestured to Cossus. “Pictor captured one of your Consuls and imprisoned him. He placed loyalty to Nero over loyalty to the empire. Like a dog, he went begging to his master for treats. But the emperor did not stir from his bacchanal parties, and so it was a trifling matter for me to free Consul Cossus from his shackles.”

Anger rippled through the crowd. How dare he capture a Consul? How dare he stand against the Triumvirate?

“Now, two Consuls of the Triumvirate pledge themselves to me. They have deemed Nero unfit to rule, and know that I am the only one who can stand against him. The only one who is willing to stand against him, for who among you has the courage to cast the first stone? Who among you will pledge your loyalty to me, and swear to tear the false emperor from his throne?”

Strix stepped forward. “I, Bellistrix Avicus Augustine, First Consul of the Triumvirate, swear fealty to Empress Valerian.”

Cossus followed suit. “I, Cossus Artanian, Second Consul of the Triumvirate, swear fealty to Empress Valerian.

Maia and Felix next, announcing themselves as minor nobility from distant lands and my personal bodyguard and doctor.

I smiled without teeth. “Perhaps your most trusted leaders are not enough. Perhaps you need more convincing. Let this be the banner that calls you to my service.”

I turned to face Nero’s palace, let anger surge in to replace the cold, and blasted lightning at the palace. It surged across the city skyline and crackled against a colorful window.

“This is a declaration of war. Nero will die, and I will sit upon the imperial throne. The fate of the empire is decided now.”

Shock. Excitement. Cheers rang out, and terrified murmurs. One citizen knelt, and then another, and yet more. They cried my name by the dozens, then the hundreds, and then almost all of the crowd was chanting, “Empress Valerian!”

I basked in it. Until the imperial soldiers attacked, that is.

A phalanx of armor-clad soldiers bearing Nero’s insignia stormed the crowd and crashed against my followers. The audience broke in that area, running to cover and clearing a wide area around the melee.

I snarled at the intruders. The sheer impudence of it, the brazen disrespect!

Clean military ranks quickly devolved into ragged clumps of shouting and clashing weapons. The loyalists had numbers, but my forces had a better position. There was something about my followers, too. They seemed more whole than the other ghosts, as if simply being in my presence was beginning to make them stronger, solider. Still, the battle was grim.

I cast my gaze to Maia. “Go. Give them hell.”

My bodyguard nodded and obeyed, leaping into the fray with a red-glowing sword and slashing at the nearest attacker. She weaved in and out of each warring group, striking agony and fear into our assailants clump by clump. My followers fought with renewed fervor as their enemies suffered and lost focus.

Rage continued to simmer. The audience, so many of them kneeling to their master but moments ago, was watching passively. They were cowards, content to enjoy the night’s entertainment without lifting a finger to help.

A second, smaller group of imperials arrived to reinforce the first. A lone figure broke from their ranks and charged the fountain I was standing on. She drew her ethereal blade and shouted at me, “Emperor Nero wills your death!” An imperial captain, chosen by Nero to serve, chosen by him to try and kill me. Me.

My followers weren’t close enough to catch her. Strix, Cossus, and Felix would be of little help. And the crowd kept watching, giddy with anticipation. They were gormless worms still stuck in their false realities, dream worlds that had kept them blind even before the world died.

They still did not understand that I was Empress Valerian, and I would not be denied.

I screamed with fury, thrust my hand at the imperial captain, and felt my magic snap.

Crimson lightning lashed out at the captain – her face etched with agony – and cut through her to the other soldiers. Every imperial puppet sent to accept my challenge fell to their knees, wracked with infernal pain. Crackling lightning, more magic than I had ever produced before, encircling each defiant whelp and forcing them to the ground.

My followers looked at me with shock, and the crowd looked at me with awe, and I commanded all of them, “Stop gaping and execute them!”

They scrambled to obey, drawing knives and swords to slice necks and remove heads. Ghostly bodies dimmed and left behind detritus. Nero’s pathetic little force dissipated into stray motes of dust.

I raised my hands and demanded of the city, “Are you not convinced? Do any of you yet doubt that I am your rightful sovereign? I am Empress Valerian! Kneel to me.”

Again the crowd knelt, and this time every soul present showed their reverence, even the loftiest of Lords. Not all of them chanted, but their heads bowed just the same.

A ghost broke from the crowd, a noble or maybe a soldier, and ran. I snarled, threw lightning, and sent that fool shrieking to the ground. I clenched my fist, and a dozen specters swarmed the coward, running him through again and again until there was nothing left.

I smirked coldly. “The war for the empire has begun. The long night is over.”

Strix smirked with me. “Hail Valerian.”

Before Strix could greet Cossus, I pushed in front of him and said, “You lied to us.”

She smiled with faux-benevolence. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Cossus sighed. “You never do.”

I lowered myself onto the nearest chair and death-glared Strix. “You are one of the Consuls you said would be so important to my bid for power. Cossus, here, was a co-conspirator of yours in life. You’ve been planning this coup long before the world died.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And? I don’t see how I lied about any of that. I never mentioned it.”

“A lie of omission,” I snapped. “Enough games!”

She just kept smiling.

Enough. Anger, too much anger. I needed clarity. Cold. I suffocated my anger, slowly, and let the cold rush in. I reached for the well of power within me, the well of glamour, and I let it envelop me completely. It pushed away all my anger, all my emotions, and left me with cold, clear purpose.

With tendrils of power I reached for Strix and once again felt the mental blocks she had set up. She knew how to deal with spies. Preparation was a specialty of hers. I didn’t care. I was not going to let her lie to me any longer.

I pushed on those mental blocks, contributing all my will to the task. I could feel the walls around her, all the mirrored shields carefully raised to prevent my intrusion. I felt the cracks, the chinks in her armor, the places that not even she could protect.

Strix had been a powerful warlock in life. In death, she was a powerful ghost. But she was still just a ghost. I was stronger.

I pushed, and pushed, and something broke. I was in the middle of a maelstrom, surrounded by a storm of emotions seething beneath the surface, a thousand whispers, a thousand lies. Strix’s presence nearly overwhelmed me, but I cut through the cacophony and felt something tangible.

Strix felt no guilt. She didn’t feel anger, either, though I knew she was aware of my glamour. There was curiosity, and calculation, but no anger, and no fear. She still felt in control, even with her emotions laid bare. She still had power.

And she was amused. She was playing a game, a trick. Chess. A game of chess where she was both players.

I withdrew from her mind and narrowed my eyes. “You knew that Pictor would tell me.”

“Of course. It is his nature.”

“So you do admit to what he told me. That you had a conspiracy to take power.”

She wiggled her hand in a ‘maybe’ gesture. “That depends on interpretation. Yes, we had a conspiracy to become Triumvirate. But none of us desire the throne. We desire order. Empire is the natural state of the world, but it can so easily become… corrupted. We were to be a guiding light.”

“That didn’t go well.”

“No, I suppose it didn’t. I expect you’ll want to hear that story, too?”

“Obviously.”

Strix looked to Cossus. “Would you like to tell it? Oh, and welcome back, old friend.”

He sighed. “Might as well.”

Everyone sat, and Cossus took up the tale.

“When the Gates broke, the empire panicked. We tried to keep order, tried to manage the nobility, but they weren’t the greatest threat. Their infighting was destructive, and enabled several small rebellions, but the kine could never organize well enough to take anything important. We made sure of that.

“Our true enemy was within: Nero. We had… underestimated his ambition, and his insanity. He would not let kine kill him. He would not let Lords assassinate him. In the end, he activated an Ancients device – the bomb that wiped out all life on Hearth, with the exception of your island.”

Cossus hesitated, and Strix began to speak. “In those days, tensions were high. We said things to each other that were perhaps… too heated. We blamed each other. I think we all deserved some blame. I warned Cossus and Caria of Nero’s danger, of the bomb, but I could have done more to curtail him. Perhaps I could have stopped him, but I was wary, and looking too far ahead. I had already accepted the empire’s death, and was planning for its rebirth.”

Cossus nodded. “Hence why we are whole and the empire is not. We underwent the rites the day of the bomb, because we knew it was coming.”

Duncan’s eyes widened. Finn stood up and glared at the both of them. “You knew?” he demanded. “You knew and let him commit genocide?”

Cossus looked at Strix and said, “Caria and I didn’t learn about the bomb until it was too late. Nero was ready for us. If we acted openly against him, he would have used the device immediately.”

Strix said, “And I apologize for that. I was too proud, too vain. I thought I could deal with Nero on my own. I was wrong.”

“In the month leading up to the device’s activation, we had many an argument. Caria was obsessed with restoring the Gates. Strix looked to the future, and wanted us to be reborn in death and serve as guides for the next generation. I wanted to take as many resources as we could and head to the second Gate, to guide the living as living.”

I frowned. “So you knew about the shield?”

Strix answered. “We were aware of technology on that island designed by the Ancients, but the defensive matrix was… untested. Caria was not certain it would fully protect the isle from the device.”

“Then… what was your plan? How would the empire be remade if everyone was dead?”

“It was a hope more than a plan. We were counting on the lost legions.”

Duncan, Finn, and I looked at each other. Duncan raised an eyebrow. “The lost legions?”

Strix nodded. “When the Gates fell, the majority of our empire was caught on the other side. On a dozen worlds, imperial outposts were occupied by legionaries, warlocks, and the ambitious children of nobility. Our factories were on alien planets, along with our farms and other kine-worked facilities. The legions kept them in line, and many nobles established vacation housing in exotic locales.”

The full implication of that hit me. “Wait… that means… that means a part of the empire never died. That’s…” I trailed off.

Duncan said, “But we knew that. Sort of. We didn’t know the scope, but that was always part of the story. The empire collapsed without portals to those other worlds.”

“Still. I’d always assumed those numbers were low, more kine than kindred. I just never realized… there are kindred out there, other kindred who survived.”

Strix smiled and spread her hands. “Now you see. My hope was that one of those kindred would find a way to reopen the Gates. Our descendants would return, and we the Triumvirate would guide them to restoring the golden age. I saw Vesta’s exodus as a dim backup plan.”

I snorted. “And yet, here I am. A descendant of her followers, not of the imperials.” I paused. “We could find them, you know. We could go to those worlds and bring them back. I can open Gates.”

Strix considered that for a long moment. Cossus spoke first. “They may well prove useful, but we cannot count on them. For one thing, we need a ghost army to dethrone Nero. Once the capital is secure we can look to rebuilding the empire.”

Strix nodded. “I agree. Let us focus on the present.”

A look passed between them, and I didn’t need glamour to see that their debate was unfinished, but being put aside for a greater purpose.

“To business, then.” Strix rubbed her hands together and asked, “How familiar are you with the plan, Cossus?”

“I understand the basics. We will give Valerian our backing, present her as the next empress, and whip the nobility into a furor.”

“Correct. We will direct that furor at Nero, and send an army of his own subjects to tear him from his throne. Once we have dealt with that threat, we can mop up any other dissidents and set to the task of putting these ghosts to rest.”

I interjected. “To rest?”

“Yes. This city, this is not how things are supposed to be. Ghosts advise, they do not take such active roles. When our war is over we will place the ghosts of the city into an Ossuary. They shall serve as a font of wisdom to aid the empire rebuild. We will, of course, take our places with other fallen Consuls. Once the empire has been reordered, obviously.”

“Obviously. Before you say any more about our plans… what is an Ossuary?” I had a strong suspicion, but I needed it confirmed.

“A well of souls. Ossuaries are usually constructed when there are too many ghosts to give proper treatment, most often for the lower classes. Instead of building vast tombs for untold thousands, we simply place all of the ghosts in one object. One ghost speaks for the whole and delivers knowledge to a living petitioner.”

Duncan and Finn looked at me, and I nodded. “Back home, the Council has one of those. All of the ghosts from the three centuries since our ancestors followed Vesta away from the empire. There must be hundreds of thousands of ghosts in that one crystal.”

“Impressive. I should like to see it, one day. For now, let us discuss our next moves. Firstly: Cossus, will you pledge your support to Valerian?”

He pursed his lips, but nodded.

“Good. What of Caria? I have not seen her in my centuries of wandering, and that disturbs me.”

A fell expression took his face. “She’s mad. I found her, once, in the bowels of the laboratories. Still fiddling with Ancient technology. She is lost to us.”

Strix looked genuinely sad at that. “I will miss her. But we must do without. Two out of three should be enough to carry clout. The nobility will listen.”

“We must hope.”

“To our next move: getting them to listen. I propose we visit each of the most influential Lords at their estates. An in-person meeting with Valerian and recommendation from the two of us should build up her reputation and begin to accrue support.

“No.”

Everyone looked at me in surprise.

“We’re not doing that. We’re not playing the slow game, Strix. I have weeks of foods, not months.”

Strix put on a condescending smile. “I assure you, it will not take months. This process can seem tedious, but there are only so many Lords. I am very precise, Valerian.”

“And you think that will matter?” I seized on an argument and pushed it. I was tired of playing slow. “We need to be direct. Backroom dealing won’t change anything; that’s what these nobles have been doing for three centuries and longer. They say they don’t trust Nero, or they don’t trust you, or they don’t trust each other, but what happens? Nothing. Nothing changes.

“If I’m going to impress them, I have to do what they can’t. I have to show that I have the one thing Nero has and they don’t: confidence. Make it a show of force. An act of defiance. A declaration of war on the bastard. You want to give them a reason to back me, to back some little-known warlock? There’s your reason. I’m the only one in this whole city willing to stand up to the emperor.”

Cossus stroked his chin. “You know, she has a point. Our best empresses were known for action and decisiveness. The Lords might respect someone with a strong will more than yet another political rival.”

Strix was displeased, but slowly nodded assent. “Perhaps. Very well, Valerian, what did you have in mind?”

“Use Asellio. Use your own connections. Spread word of my attack on Pictor, and your backing, and tell them to assemble tomorrow night in a location that has easy view of the palace.”

“And then?”

“Then we declare war.”

“This sewer is absurdly spacious.” Duncan poked a filthy wall with her weapon.

Cossus nodded. “The undercity grew from the early sewers and catacombs, and was continually expanded upon even as the city was remodeled and refined. Most people never see this part of Aurelion, but the passages are useful, if sometimes dangerous.”

“Lucky for us everyone is dead.”

“Some of those dangers have only become worse in death.”

“Oh. Great.”

I found it hard to concentrate on their dialogue. I nearly tripped over a gap in the walkway, and kept tuning out, lost in thought. The sewer was green and gray and cold. It was desolate, like most of the city, but somehow creepier for the lower corpse count.

At some point, Cossus asked, “So what’s Strix up to, eh? What’s her grand strategy.”

“Hmm?” I looked up from kicking a rock around. “Oh. Well, three hundred years have passed, the three of us are descendants of survivors, and Strix wants to make me Empress so she can unite the nobility and their militias against Nero. That’s the broad strokes version, at least.”

He chuckled. “Ah, Strix. Never change.”

“Yeah. Her. Pictor shared interesting details about her. Claimed you, her, and a third had a conspiracy to take power and overthrow the emperor.” I peered at him curiously. “I’m not against it, mind you. Just annoyed that Strix kept that little note a secret.”

“She does that. Even to us. If she hadn’t, this whole thing might have been averted… but we can discuss that when we get to her. I want to scold her in person. For now: yes, the three of us did work together to become Triumvirate. We initially just planned on ruling the empire from behind the throne, but Nero’s increasing insanity forced our hand.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

I tuned out again and let my friends question him. I finally discarded my pet rock and watched it clatter into the sewer pit away from the walkway.

There was something whispering. That was the sound I was hearing, the distraction that kept demanding my attention. A whisper, urgent and imploring.

Slowly, I let the others drift ahead. The whisper grew louder, and the sound less distorted. I made out a single sentence in the low cacophony.

“Follow the whispers to find your answers, Valerian.” A woman’s voice, cold and smooth.

I had no reason to trust the voice, but no reason to distrust it either. Besides, I was sick of being kept in the dark. I followed the whispers.

The insistent noises led me through twisting tunnels, down unsteady slopes and up piles of detritus to hidden passageways. The sewer was vast and labyrinthine; Cossus’s description of it as an undercity was beginning to seem accurate. That was confirmed when I stepped into catacombs.

Ossified bone, walls covered in skulls, and torches that glowed but did not burn. This was something separate from the world above, separate even from the rest of the undercity. The catacombs had a power, a prickling on my skin, a slithering cold. I had crossed the threshold into an alien domain.

The whispers ceased, and the woman’s voice spoke again. “Good, good. Welcome to the catacombs, aspirant. Allow me to introduce myself.”

A ghost glided into view. She was elegant and regal like many a noble, but there was an edge to her, a sharpness that infused every aspect of her being with danger… and hunger. Her cloak clung to her frame too closely, her eyes gleamed too brightly, and her colors bled. The other ghosts were pale, ethereal. They looked frail and distant, even the more aware like Strix and Cossus.

This ghost looked strong. More real than real. As if I could just reach out and touch her. Her sleek armor reflected blue torchlight, and her cat’s grin was as white as physical bone. Whiter, even. Fresh.

Her hair was stringy, her fingers spider-like, her face almost skeletal. And yet she looked healthy. Her appearance was a paradox, one that was unsettling to look at.

She said, “My name is Caligula. I am a warlock, and I have seen few as full of potential as you, aspirant.”

“Name’s Valerian.”

“Oh, yes. Valerian. The next empress, I hear told. Is that your destiny, warlock?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I’m starting to think I haven’t figured out my destiny yet. It’s nice to have options, you know? We’ll see where this empire thing takes me.”

Caligula chuckled. “Of course, of course. But I don’t think all your options have been laid on the table. Strix likes to do that, as you’ve no doubt noticed. She hides things. Deceives. She’s very… manipulative, that one. Useful, obviously. But dangerous.”

“I’ve noticed. But don’t play coy, Cali. What are you trying to sell me?”

“Nothing. Yet. There are still things for Strix to teach you. You are close, but you are not ready to learn my knowledge. No, for now I simply offer an alternative view.”

Her dangling of information irritated me, but I let it pass. “View of what?”

“The court. The nobles. Petty politics.” Her voice dripped with disdain. “The worthless fops that Strix is having you fawn over and impress. She tells you that they are the key, the heart of the matter. I disagree. They are worthless. Children prattling about, playing with toys they don’t understand. Mimicking what those greater than they can do. I respect much about ancient Aurelius, but I shall always disagree with her uplifting of friends and allies.”

I frowned. “Tell me of that. I know little of my history.”

“There is little to tell. In the dawn of the empire, a warlock named Aurelius took power. She forged an empire, and gave positions of so-called importance to those who had supported her. The first Lords. Even then the word had little meaning.” She spat. “The Lords of empire prefer their balls and games and toy soldier armies to the true power of the kindred. They consider our birthright convenient, amusing. They squander magic.”

“Nero has an army too. Hard to take it down without some forces of our own.”

Hidden knowledge glittered in Caligula’s eyes, but she said, “This I acknowledge. For now. However, I find Strix’s method of building this army to be weak and pathetic. She would have you deal with these Lords diplomatically. Days, weeks of envoys, dinners, wooing them with charm and camaraderie. And yet, did diplomacy gain you Cossus? No. Power did. Violence.”

I was starting to get the picture. “You think I should be taking, not asking.”

“Want, take, have. It is our oldest nature. Impose your will on the nobility, cow them, intimidate them, and they will fall in line. Empires are forged with force of arm and strength of mind, not ballroom prattling. You are a conqueror, Valerian. Do not let Strix push you away from your heritage.”

“I won’t. But we’re still outnumbered. A little cloak and dagger might be necessary, at least until the deck isn’t stacked against us. Nero has an army.”

“You have magic. You have a loyal servant. And you have presence, which is more important than charm. Sway the nobility to your will, show them your power, show them that you do not fear their emperor, and they will flock to you, empower you. Give the word, and they will throw their bodies upon the spikes of Nero’s palace.”

I had to admit, the imagery was tempting. And despite her disdain for conventional diplomacy, Caligula clearly knew how to be persuasive. I couldn’t deny my frustration with Strix’s methods, her focus on the long term. We didn’t have weeks to pull this off, just days. We couldn’t afford to have a sleepover every time we needed to deal with a Lord.

I shrugged. “I’ll consider it. The direct approach is close to my heart, after all.” I paused. “Should I tell Strix you said hi? Or do you two have bad history? I get the feeling it’s that second one.”

Caligula smiled again. “Complicated history, certainly. No, best to leave me out of it, for now. No need to distract her with pointless worrying. Thank you for being reasonable, Valerian. You and I are going to do great things together.”

I smirked. “Here’s hoping. See you around, Cali.”

A trail of whispers led me out of the catacombs and through the sewers to where my friends were frantically searching for me. I waved.

“Hey. Miss me?”

They rushed over (well, Cossus meandered) and Finn barraged me with questions. “What happened? Where did you go? Why are you smirking?”

I rolled my shoulders. “Taking a walk. Sorry about that. We good to keep going?”

It was probably obvious I was hiding something, but they all tentatively accepted my bullshit explanation and we kept walking. Maybe they were just anxious to leave the sewers behind. Cossus definitely shot me a few curious glances, but not suspiciously. My secret (such as it seemed) was safe.

What followed was more idle banter. Duncan and Finn had dozens of questions for Cossus about imperial life, now that we were in safe straits and able to ask real questions and get non-bullshit answers. Cossus filled them in as he could about funerary rites, daily entertainment, literature of the time, and courtly politics. I tried to follow along, I really did, but it was still all just meaningless gibberish.

I didn’t care that Sekoni had sank twelve ships trying to win the heart of Barovo, nor did I find it interesting how the empire’s architectural style had changed over the years as it blended the individual cultures of the home world.

Well, some of it was interesting.

“Our world is called Hearth. There are others out there, dozens. Vortex, Pinnacle, Avalanche. We tend to give them simple names for ease of documentation. Each world is different. Our world is an ocean world, really. We’ve seen endless deserts, wild jungles, and storm-tossed rocks drifting in a gas cloud.”

“The Gates were the key, right?” asked Finn.

“Precisely. Through them, we explored the cosmos. We conquered savage worlds and brought the light of civilization.”

Duncan said, “And you enslaved people.”

Cossus frowned. “Is that how history has written it? A shame. I assure you, the truth is more complex.”

“Really? Please, do tell.” She side-eyed him.

“The kine were mongrels before we found them. They had no technology, no culture. A less charitable empire might have seen them for mere animals and butchered them, but we were gracious. We offered those we found a chance to become something more, to rise out of their squalor and live in golden cities. We offered them enlightenment, and a future where one day they might stand side by side with us. I think that’s worth a bit of labor, don’t you?”

Duncan was blunt. “No, I don’t. I don’t think that’s true, either.”

Cossus shrugged. “You may believe what you wish. It hardly matters now that the kine are dead, and have left behind no ghosts. They are gone, and the kindred are left. Perhaps extermination was their destiny after all.”

Duncan flinched at the word ‘destiny’. “I thought educated kindred didn’t believe in prophecy and fortune telling.”

“Ah, but there are many forms of destiny. Some mystical, certainly, some more scientific. A group of imperial scholars once theorized that the kine were doomed to stagnation and degeneracy that would wipe them out as surely as any military effort. Biology can be destiny. Sometimes destiny is not about the decree of the stars, but rather about the choices we make, and the cut of our cloth.”

Duncan looked more uneasy.

“Let me tell you of something we called predestination. Predestination says that every action you take is the action you were always going to take. If you choose to kill someone, that choice was set in stone the second you were born, and earlier. Every choice you make is the result of every choice you have made, and those were born of the choices of others.”

“But… wait. That form of destiny is divorced from morality, from meaning. You’re saying that, in that form of destiny, nothing means anything. We have no free will, no power to change. Nothing is meant to happen, it simply happens because other things happened first. We are just cogs in a machine.”

“Ah, but are we? If you feel love or hatred towards someone, is that feeling artificial just because you can name all the places it came from? Love is chemical, but does that make it less real?”

Duncan was very quiet at that. She looked at me, and this time I looked away first.

Cossus smiled at us. “Forgive me. My fellow Consuls and I argued far too much about philosophy, I’m afraid it has developed into a habit. Do not let me discount your beliefs, such as they are. I simply wish to express my own perspective and offer a defense of my peers. An action may be interpreted as malicious, but it may not always come from malice.”

Duncan nodded slowly, but it didn’t seem very assured.

Cossus looked to me. “How about you, Valerian? Do you have some insight to the argument?”

I shrugged. “Not really. It’s not something I think too much about it.”

He pressed me. “Surely you must have some opinion on it. What do you believe destiny is?”

Duncan and Finn were looking at me, and they were all waiting for an answer. With a sigh, I turned my thoughts inward and went over the question. What did destiny mean to me? The term was used so often back home, but I never kept up with all the chantry’s teachings. Destiny only had meaning in context of the prophecy, of the chosen one. Of me.

Maybe that was the answer. Maybe that was what destiny meant.

I said, “Destiny is what you’re owed. Your birthright. Destiny is knowing that you are meant for something, that you are important. That in the grand scheme of things you matter.”

Cossus raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that everyone matters, in the end? That there is a reward or punishment out there for all beings? I suppose everyone is important in their own story.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m saying not everyone has a destiny.”

Cossus seemed to find that answer very interesting. Duncan looked more disturbed than anything else, and I couldn’t tell the expression on Finn’s face. We kept walking.

We reached an exit and emerged into the city, in a shadowed alley. Cossus winced, and grew frailer, but could still walk.

I was curious about that. “How are you and Strix so much better at resisting sunlight?”

“We prepared. Our ghosts are whole, and retain our strength. It is… difficult, to be out in this light, and I cannot do it for long, but it is possible. Let us hurry.”

We returned to Asellio’s estate for our rendezvous with Strix.

Pictor gave us a tour of the palace’s finest features, served stale dinner, and was in every way an accommodating host. He never addressed Maia or Felix, but did refer to them and ask me a few questions, which I answered as I thought my persona might. It seemed to satisfy him, and he left us to our guest rooms in high spirits.

By daylight, while the ghosts were drowsy and frail, we explored the estate. From earlier conversations I knew the dungeons were somewhere within the manor itself, but beyond that my map of the place was woefully lacking. Most of Pictor’s tour had taken us outside, through the estate grounds. To cover more ground we decided to split up and meet back in the guest rooms in an hour.

Finn took the bodyguards while Duncan went with me. Easier to explain away if caught, and it maximized our offensive output in a fight.

It was an awkward search for the first ten minutes. Duncan avoided looking at my face, and I didn’t have the words to describe… whatever I wanted to say. I still didn’t know how to feel about her. I still couldn’t separate my sense of competition from the real Duncan.

I finally said, “Did you ever hate me?”

Duncan halted and turned to look at me with an incredulous look on her face. I wanted to reach out with glamour and probe her emotions, but fear of getting caught stayed my hand.

“I just.. I’ve just been wondering that. I haven’t really been the most graceful winner.”

“Nor the most graceful competitor,” she muttered.

“Right. Yeah.”

More awkward silence, and I started us searching again, moving through the opulent halls. After a few more minutes, I tried again.

“I just want to know. You kind of shocked me when you… when you threw it all away to help me.”

She snorted with semi-mirth. “I shocked myself. You wanna know a secret?”

“Always.”

“I don’t think I did it for you. Not really. I’ve been torturing myself over that for days, but… I think I was just trying to run away.”

I frowned, peeked inside a doorway, then turned back to her. “Run away from what? You were being offered the metaphorical throne, and the literal awe of the whole chantry.”

“Exactly.” She let out a frustrated sigh, dared a glance at me, then looked back at the hallways. “You don’t get it. You never did.”

“Get what?”

“I never wanted to be the chosen one.”

I was floored. Stunned. Disbelieving. “I’m sorry, what? You… why?”

Duncan threw her hands up in the air. “Lots of reasons! It’s a terrifying responsibility, and I never felt strong enough, especially not compared to you. I just wanted a nice life. I didn’t want the attention that being a candidate brought, and I certainly didn’t want to be the chantry’s leader. I never wanted to be the chosen one. That’s what I was running from.”

More silence passed between us as I tried to understand. When the other candidates had dropped out, one by one, until it was only Mal, Duncan, and myself left, I thought they were all just admitting I was superior. When Mal left, I assumed the same. I’d never once considered that they might not want it. Not want the glory, the power.

We searched a few more rooms and hallways while I processed.

“Okay. That’s… big. I guess that adds more credence to my theory.”

“Theory?”

“That I lied to myself about you. That I created a false image. It’s kind of hard to reconcile my mental image of you as a ruthless opponent with… well, with you. You’re too soft.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t-” I rolled my eyes. “Not like that. You’re plenty strong. I just mean that you’re quick to show empathy for people you don’t know. Places long dead. You seem pretty horrified whenever Strix brings up slavery, for one.”

“Because slavery is an abomination that our ancestors outlawed for good reason.”

I nodded. “Right, sure. But they did that centuries ago. Neither of us have ever seen a slave. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, necessarily, but it isn’t exactly a warrior’s trait.”

Duncan turned on her heel and stared at me. “Is there a point to any of this?”

“Yeah. Um… I’m sorry, I guess. For being an ass, sometimes. I was short-sighted.”

She laughed, shook her head exasperatedly, and kept on walking the halls.

“I’m pretty bad at apologies, I’ll admit that.”

We searched in more silence for another five or ten minutes, until curiosity gnawed at me again.

“Just… why do it? If you never wanted to be chosen one, why try at all? Why be a candidate?”

“They didn’t give me much choice. Told me I had potential, lumped me with a bunch of warriors and said, ‘Learn this’. What else could I have done?”

“You could have left. Mal did. You could have gotten yourself eliminated in trials. Lots did.”

She was getting annoyed. I didn’t need glamour to see that. “I couldn’t leave a responsibility like that. I had a debt to the chantry. I couldn’t walk away.”

“You walked away to follow me.”

Duncan stopped. She clenched her fists. We were in a corridor, by ourselves, no ghosts in sight. She turned on me and, through gritted teeth, barely controlling her volume, she said, “You really want to know it? You want to know why I kept at it, why I tried, why I competed?”

I nodded hesitantly.

Duncan took a few steps toward me and got up in my face. “I had a crush on you, idiot. I had a crush on you for like, a year, and I thought that if I could just be strong like you then I might catch your attention. Well I did. I caught your attention, and it ruined my life. By the time I realized you were too self-absorbed to ever see another person with any trace of genuine affection, it was too late. I’d made a commitment to the chantry, and I had to honor it. That’s why. Happy?”

She didn’t wait for answer. She stormed off, leaving me alone, blinking and gaping like the idiot she’d labeled me.

Well, shit, said me to myself.

I leaned against the nearest wall and tried to make sense of her revelation. A crush. She had a crush on me? Like, a feelings crush? A kiss-me-in-the-dark, you-make-me-blush, bona fide teenage sweetheart crush?

Operative word: had. Not anymore, clearly. My fault, obviously. It was just so hard.

It was hard to pay attention to what people said and listen to their feelings and put in the energy to care. Glamour made it easier, but I still had to think up responses. I had to lie and smile and sidestep and backpedal. I was never good at public speaking. I preferred to lead by example, or to just stab things.

Morgan always told me I should be a more friendly leader. The Council talked circles around me. Strix kept secrets from me. And Duncan left me stunned, reeling, questioning myself.

I just wanted things to be simple. I was good. My enemy was bad. I stab them, they die, everyone is happy.

For the first time, for a fraction of an instant, I regretted being the chosen one.

But no. No, that was ridiculous.

I am the chosen one. This is my destiny. I am important.

I fucked up with Duncan. I had to admit that. I had to acknowledge the ways my obsessive, competitive nature cost me. It would be hard, but I had to become a shrewder person. I had to learn this stupid courtly game, even if I hated it, because it was useful. It was necessary. I needed to learn how to analyze people, how to dissect who they were, and use that information to get what I wanted.

And I needed Finn and Duncan to have faith in me. Faith in their chosen one.

I hardened my resolve and returned to our room. The others were all waiting. We swapped information, tallied rooms, and came to the conclusion that the only place the dungeon could be was in the north wing, which was locked.

I cracked my knuckles. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “You ready for that? We break the door, that’s immediate escalation. No more play pretend, we’ll have to fight our way out. We’re taking a risk. What if the dungeon isn’t there?”

“You think it’s upstairs? Only locked door in a mansion screams dungeon.”

“There’s a lot of extra space, if that’s true. The entire north wing is sealed off.”

Duncan interjected, “We have time to check the upper floors. The sun is still high in the sky.”

I frowned. “We haven’t slept. If we hold off too long, we’ll be the weak ones, which decreases our chances further. No, we have to do this now.”

She shrugged assent. She wasn’t afraid to look at me anymore. There was a fierceness in her eyes, as if admitting her history had absolved her of it.

I wanted to use glamour and dig past her mask, but she was always too quick to catch on. I needed a better opportunity.

I started to speak and almost called her Duncan, but then remembered the guards. “Alright, game plan: Maia, you and I open with sorcery every time we see one of Pictor’s, starting with whoever is outside the north wing. While they’re stunned, Asellio’s guards execute. We break the lock, open the door, and storm the dungeons in search of Cossus. Once we find him, hopefully we can just run out. Got it?”

Maia, Felix, and our ghostly escorts nodded. We geared up and began the mission.

I was still a bit off-kilter from Maia’s revelation, but anger came as easy relief. I threw lightning at the single footman guarding the north wing entrance. Our escorts executed the guard swiftly, easily. The door was locked, but that was fixed by a few kicks and a hefty swing of my sword.

The first floor north wing looked more like a war room than an opulent palace. Curled maps, sharp implements, and more corpses than anywhere else in the mansion. The entryway hosted two more ghosts, who went down to lightning, a sorcerous blade, and two ghostly swords.

Felix stooped to investigate papers as we passed. He whistled appreciatively. “Troop orders. Pictor was planning something with a few collaborators. Probably something about Strix.”

I examined a few myself. “Hmm. He nabbed Cossus after the world died, right? Maybe he’d been arranging an op like that beforehand, and his forces kept pursuing that plan in death.”

We continued on through a few more rooms, efficiently taking down every ghost we saw. A few cried out, but the palace’s inhabitants were still sluggish enough that no proper alarm was raised. Pictor’s soldiers were disorganized, weakened by sunlight, and unprepared for an internal assault.

In the distance, I heard a scream; someone had found the bodies – what passed for bodies, at least.

We sped up. The north wing was large, but areas had clear themes. We went towards the rougher area and, after passing through a few more rooms, found a ladder down.

We wasted precious seconds trying to decide the optimal order. I went first, then a ghost, then Felix, Maia, and the other ghost. I slid down the rungs as quickly as I could and threw lightning wildly the moment I hit the ground.

A stray blast hit one of the three ghostly wardens guarding the dungeons. Cells lined the walls, a dusty chest lay in one corner, and the wardens wielded wicked-looking maces as they advanced on me. I rolled to the side and blasted all three with lightning, pouring as much power as I could into crippling them while my allies joined me and rushed them.

The first warden fell, then the second, and my lightning flickered and died before my companions reached the third. She lashed out with her mace and crushed a ghostly arm. The wounded guard let out a keening howl and stumbled away. The other guard lunged in and ran the warden through.

The dungeon was ours. I motioned for my allies to watch the ladder while I investigated the cells. I passed a few ghosts that looked too ratty and weak to be the Consul, before settling on the only specter to wear fine jewelry.

He looked up at me and frowned. “You… you’re not one of them. You have color in your cheeks, and your eyes. You’re alive, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “You’re not. How whole are you? Strix sent me. She prepared for her death well.”

Cossus laughed bitterly. “Of course she did. She told me, you know. She warned me about all of this. I warned her, too. I suppose, in the end, we were both fools, yet I the greater. No matter. Get me out of here, then I’ll here whatever crazy scheme she has in mind.”

I tilted my head. “Can’t you just pass through the bars?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Of course not. I’m weak, and even with all my wits about me that would take a great deal of effort. Are you new at this?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not from around here. As you can tell by my being alive, and you’re being dead.”

“Yes, yes, I get the point. Just smash the lock, I can take it from there.”

I obliged, a swift hilt-bash dealing with the rusty bars. “Know a quick way out of here? The whole palace is about to descend on us.”

Cossus limped over to the wooden chest, opened it, and reached for an ornate dagger. When he touched it, an ethereal outline emerged and followed his hand. He drew his ghostly dagger and pointed at a cracked brick in the wall. “Secret passageway. Pictor’s an idiot and thought it would be the safest place to put his escape route. His loss, our gain. Leads into the sewers.”

I looked to my companions. “Maia, Felix, with me. Soldiers… hold them off. We’ll honor you sacrifice.”

The guards nodded and turned blades to the ladder, silent sentinels awaiting second death.

Maia and Felix ran to me and together we fiddled with the brick wall until we found the hidden latch. A secret door emerged, and a dark tunnel beckoned. With one last look behind us at Pictor’s palace, we fled into the darkness, Cossus right with us.

When I saw Asellio’s manor house, I thought that was what nobility looked like. A shadow of the imperial palace, to be sure, but still impressive.

Pictor’s estate disabused me of that notion.

His mansion looked more like a cathedral, with stained glass windows (mostly shattered) and shining spires (mostly corroded). It sprawled its way down a hill, tapering to a point where pearly gates hung open. Little flickers of ghostly light were scattered across the dead fields surrounding his palace. A wide canal circled the entire estate like a moat, and the only way into the area was a single bridge equipped with fortifications.

“Paranoid, much?” I muttered.

Strix smirked. “Not paranoid if everyone’s really out to get you. All the Lords have estates like this, guarded against other Lords seeking to eliminate rivals or climb the glorious ladder. A useful excuse for why a Lord’s levies might not all join the legions abroad.”

Strix detached from our unit as we approached the bridge, promising to wait with Asellio while we went about freeing Cossus.

We arrived at the bridge proper and two burly ghosts in blue livery crossed their pikes. “State your name and business.”

“Valerian, sent here by Marquis Asellio for a meeting with Lord Pictor.” I contorted my mouth into the illusion of a charming smile and handed lefty the letter. It fell through her hand.

She stared at her hand and her eyes darted in lines like she was actually reading the letter, which was currently sitting in her foot. “Checks out. Have a pleasant day, Valerian.” They uncrossed their pikes.

I gave them a breezy wave and stepped over their corpses, making my way up the brick road that led to Pictor’s cathedral. I made sure to scoop up the letter as well, just in case I still needed it.

Gavin snickered as we walked. “Well, that was easy. Let’s hope all of Pictor’s ghosts are that dense, eh?”

Duncan made a little concerned buzzing noise in her throat. “Not dense, just stuck in their fantasy world. Remember what Strix said: the more we interact with these ghosts, the more they start to shake off that stasis and change. We won’t be this lucky forever.”

“She was reading the air in front of her hand. I think we’ll be fine for at least a few more days.”

We reached the doors (which hung open) and I knocked on one of them. A loud tapping sound reverberated through the once-opulent entry hall. For a haunted palace, it was surprisingly empty and tame. When no one came out to greet us, I stepped inside.

Lord Pictor’s taste in art was no less ostentatious than his taste in architecture. There were at least seven portraits of the same man in the entry hall, which I surmised to be the noble himself. The others were of fruit.

As we examined strange sculptures and loitered in the lobby, a ghostly servant emerged from a shadowy passageway, saw us, and hurried over. “Hello! Are you here to see Lord Pictor?”

I projected my best ‘above it all’ attitude. “I’m Valerian, a friend of the Marquis Asellio and new arrival to Aurelion. This is my bodyguard, Maia, and my doctor, Felix. We were told Lord Pictor would be happy to host us for a few nights and tell us about the city.”

The servant nodded hastily. “Of course, of course. I’ll inform him at once. Feel free to wait in a sitting room, tea will be served shortly.”

She gestured at the hallway she’d come from and then bustled off in the opposite direction. We entered the sitting room and found it just as lavish, but with armchairs and low tables. I sat and Felix sat. The guards stayed standing, and Maia followed their example, staying in arm’s reach of me.

The servant spoke truthfully, as only half a minute later someone came in with a teapot and began pouring it into cups. Pouring air, more precisely, but I appreciated the sentiment. I had Maia lend me a water canteen from her satchel and poured us all drinks.

Felix gave Maia a wry glance. “Comfortable standing?”

She raised an eyebrow in response. “No worse than chantry training. Though I do find my position as ‘bodyguard’ ironic. Meat shield might be more accurate.”

I smiled thinly and sipped my water. I let them joke and focused my thoughts inward, preparing the persona I would present to Pictor. I let that cold detachment creep back into me, and immersed myself in glamour.

I needed Pictor to think me harmless, or perhaps even a useful pawn. An idle rich visiting the city as little more than an expensive tourist, but with political connections that might serve his interests. Someone sympathetic to his loyalties.

Asellio’s loaned guards displayed little emotion. The most I could sense out of them was boredom, but not active boredom, more a glazed apathy. They were operating on automatic. Maia felt nervous, with an undercurrent of anticipation. Felix was just dully amused. I tried to focus in on Maia’s emotions, like I had before, digging for that tension underneath the surface, the strange tinge I’d noted previously. I slipped past her anxiety and felt a lingering sense of amazement at the city, and disbelief at our situation. There was more, more waiting for me in her thoughts and fears.

Someone nudged me, and I started. “What?”

Maia frowned at me. “Were you using glamour again? I asked you what our plan was going to be.”

“Oh. Well, yes. Practicing for Pictor.” Looks like going too deep into glamour carried the risk of not noticing less ephemeral details. “As for a plan, I think I’ll just chat him up, score some info, then sneak around to find the dungeon and free Cossus. Then run.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Elegant simplicity.”

“Exactly.”

Anything else he had to say was interrupted by the arrival of the palace’s ruler, Lord Pictor. I could tell it was him because he was flanked by guards in livery, and because he wore opulent robes, and because through my glamour I could feel the arrogance radiating off him without even trying.

I rose to greet him and he just smiled and waved at me. “Please, please, no need for formalities or handshaking. A friend of Kaeso is a friend of mine.” He sat down in a chair facing me and took a sip of not-there tea.

I adopted my fakest smile and said, “I’m glad to hear that. The Marquis speaks highly of you. He insisted I visit, and told me you were an excellent host.”

He chuckled – false, my glamour told me – and shook his head. “Oh, please, you flatter me. I love a good compliment as much as the next noble, but I’m really just average. I used to be brilliant at it, believe me, but my party-throwing skills have grown rusty with the recent… troubles.”

“I’d think slave revolts would encourage more parties, just to get away from the squalor.”

He chuckled again, this time more genuinely. “Yes, so did I, but everyone’s hiding away or currying favor with the emperor. Only two parties in the last month, can you believe that?”

I put my hand to mouth dramatically. “Really? Two? How does the city survive like this? Something simply must be done to revitalize spirits.” I was slowly getting into the character of the vain noble. It was actually kind of fun.

“Alas, there’s little to be done. I’ve tried. No, they will scurry about, and some of them will hide in the palace and beg Nero for protection, but even those above such base simpering don’t have the stomach to risk their hides in public on more than one occasion a week.”

I arched an eyebrow and gave my best innocently-curious face. “And you? No interest in the emperor’s affections? Abandoned local politicking for the time?”

His mouth twitched into a smile and through glamour I felt the restrained excitement of someone with a secret to hide. “My connections to the court are still strong. Nero knows where my loyalties lie, and that is far more important than any ballroom appearance.”

I nodded appreciatively. “In trying times it is important we stay true to our oaths, and to the good of the empire. Actually,” I leaned in as if sharing a secret, “that’s part of why I came here. There are those on distant shores who, in the chaos, have not forgotten the importance of a strong, united empire. They’ve sent me to do what I can helping fix this mess.”

Intrigue twinkled in his eyes, and I felt that restrained excitement building, morphing. He was wary, too, but sensed a potential ally.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you, and help Nero, I’d be happy to lend my resources. The empire’s enemies are many, and we must stick together to resist them.”

At the mention of enemies, a dark thread twisted through his emotions. I risked focusing on it, the world around me bleeding away for a single moment. It didn’t feel like resentment at the slaves – I’d felt that earlier, and it was a dull fire. This burned hot and cruel. It had to be Cossus.

To my luck, Pictor hadn’t said anything during my lapse. He was just nodding and sipping his tea.

“Yes… my sentiments exactly, Valerian. There are many who would risk our empire for personal benefit.”

“More than just the slaves?” I inquired with a knowing look.

He smiled, and this time it was more irritated and sarcastic. “Yes… perhaps Asellio told you, then, of the serpents in our court.”

I waved a hand and shrugged. “Only vagaries. He seemed concerned to speak of it too openly.”

“Of course, of course. Really, I shouldn’t either, but this is my domain. I will not be intimidated, especially not by self-important fools.” His mask of charm fully slipped for a moment, and I heard the bitterness in his voice. “There is a threat to our empire within the emperor’s own advisors.” He paused for dramatic effect. “The Triumvirate.”

I acted surprised. “The Triumvirate? Truly? All of them? Have things gotten that bad?”

He nodded. “Indeed. Caria, I believe, is only involved incidentally. Cossus harbors ill intentions, and has more sway over the military than I’d like, but,” that I-know-a-secret feeling flared up, “I don’t think he’s a true threat. I have ways of opposing him. No, the true threat is their leader, the First Consul: Strix.”

What.

Pictor interpreted my shock as being about the accusation, rather than learning who Strix was, for which I didn’t have time to be grateful. “Yes, it’s hard to hear, but I speak truth. I think the First Consul harbors a hatred for the emperor, and a lust for his throne. She may well represent the gravest threat to our empire in all the world.”

I recovered from my stupor, barely, and stammered out, “I believe you. I… I think I believe you. It makes a twisted sort of sense.”

Relief surged in him, more than I would have expected. “Thank you. Strix and her lackeys have much of the nobility wrapped around her finger, so finding allies is not an easy task. In truth, Kaeso has been my closest confidante these past months.”

Kaeso, the man who had just pledged his loyalties to Strix, and to me. I made a note to watch him more closely. You can’t trust a spy, even one working for you.

“It vexes me that they can’t see her treachery, but she has entrenched her position well. Strix and her cabal.” He spat the word.

I frowned. “You said both Cossus and Caria back Strix in this. Isn’t that unusual, for a Triumvirate to be so… closely aligned?” I didn’t know that for certain, but it seemed like a logical guess.

He nodded. “Yes, yes it is. It made me suspicious too, so I began looking into their histories more closely. To my horror, I realized, far too late to do anything, that the three of them have been working together since before they were Consuls.”

My eyes widened. “A conspiracy. The three of them had a conspiracy to take power as the Triumvirate.”

“Yes. A successful conspiracy, which they are now reaping the rewards of. They are second in power only to the emperor, and when they act unanimously – which they only do when it has extraordinary benefit, to preserve the illusion of being fair and distinct – the entire nobility obeys. Now you see why I consider them a greater danger than the uprisings.”

I slowly nodded, and sank back a little in my seat.

Strix was part of the Triumvirate, the one she claimed was vital to my bid for the throne. Cossus was an old friend of hers, who she had worked with to secure the second greatest seat of power in the fallen empire. Before the world died, she had already been working to usurp Nero, working alongside the other Consuls and stringing along the nobility of Aurelion.

And she had told me none of this. A lie of omission, if nothing more blatant. Anger began to build in me, burning away the cold. My glamour failed. I didn’t try to restore it.

I hated being lied to. I hated being manipulated. Strix had insulted me, and it was an insult I wouldn’t forget. But I still needed her. I needed her Triumvirate. Her corruption would serve me, and that was, for the moment, more important than personal strife.

Outwardly, I let out a breath that lay between a snarl and a sigh. Pictor nodded sympathetically.

“Yes, that’s about what my reaction was. It doesn’t look good, Valerian.”

“It really doesn’t. This is a daunting problem you’ve laid before me, Lord Pictor. But… perhaps not an impossible one. My backers will be sympathetic to your cause, and their resources may prove useful in whatever your plans are.”

He smiled. “Thank you. May I ask, what resources they have to offer?”

“Whatever is needed. They’re a diverse collective. Armaments, supplies, political strings. They won’t commit their personal retinues or anything of that like, but they can support any effort you make with your own tools. Their only concern is being exposed to retaliation. They’re far more comfortable in the shadows, at least until we have a greater handle on this threat.”

“It is appreciated all the same. Though… ‘we’? Do you intend on staying long?” It sounded more friendly than wary, but I didn’t have glamour to make sure.

“If you’ll have me. A concern of the empire is a concern of mine, and my backers will appreciate having a liaison here in person.”

He seemed to weigh those words for a moment before smiling even wider and calling for wine. “To celebrate this partnership. Together, we just might save the empire.”

I smiled back at the long dead ghost, drank a cup of ancient wine, and made a toast to an empire that had fallen centuries ago. “To saving the empire.”

Brunch was served on dusty plates, and the food looked as old as it was.

There was, however, a bottle of wine that had apparently survived the ages. A ghostly servant poured it into vintage glasses (I hastily shook the dust off of mine), and the red liquid looked just as good as any drink back home.

I took a cautious sip and was pleasantly surprised by the taste. It tasted like wine.

The Marquis smiled graciously. “I hope you’re enjoying brunch. It’s been a while since I entertained guests.”

I shot a glance at Strix questioningly, but she just raised a wineglass to her lips. She didn’t drink any, of course, but the Marquis didn’t seem to notice that.

I took another sip myself and nodded. “It’s good. I missed such pleasantries on the trip here.”

“Yes,” he said, “Strix told me you were from far off. We haven’t had many visitors to the city lately, mostly people leaving. I wish you could have come at a better time, that I might show you a proper view of the capital’s glory. Alas, I doubt things will be presentable any day soon.”

“We’ve had trouble too, but nothing like here. Strix tells me there have been riots, even uprisings.”

“Oh, yes. Nothing to worry about, just a few rough spots. I’m sure any day now the imperial guard will restore order.” Asellio continued to smile as he mimicked the motions of eating, but glamour told me that my words hit home. There was resentment there, aimed at a higher power. Aimed at the emperor.

“I’m not so confident, Marquis.”

“Please, call me Kaeso.”

I nodded. “I’ve seen the guard. I’ve read about Nero. Neither… impress me.”

He shrugged. “What’s to be done? He is emperor. They are his tools.” He agreed with me, but he wasn’t willing to express it. I needed to be the one to vocalize it, to turn idle fancy into actionable reality.

“What if he wasn’t emperor?”

The statement was treason, and he knew it, but it lured him all the same. He took another cautious fake sip and waved for me to continue. “What if?”

I put down my glass and leaned forward. “Kaeso, I’ve seen Nero, and I’ve seen others like him. They only have power so long as people think they have power. This empire deserves someone with real strength. Someone who is willing to do more about our problem than sit in an ivory tower and hold galas.”

“Someone like you?”

Internally, I freaked out. On the exterior, I just shrugged and said, “Perhaps.”

Was this what Strix had meant? Was that why she played coy? She wasn’t just using me to build a rebellion… she was trying to sell me as the next sovereign. Her deceit irritated me, but I still had a part to play.

“What matters now,” I said, “is building a coalition. Bringing together those who no longer have faith in the emperor and uniting them in a common cause. I believe you can help us do that, Kaeso.”

“Us?”

“Strix and I, of course.”

He tossed a shred glance at my spectral advisor. “Yes… I’m curious about that. It’s not like Strix to put her weight behind someone at random. Are you a conspirator in this, then? You agree with Valerian’s sentiment?”

Strix nodded. “Completely, old friend. The time has come for a great upheaval, and I believe Valerian is our best chance at such an event. She has my full support, and my explicit endorsement.”

That seemed to impress him, at least according to my glamour. “Well. That is a bold claim. An auspicious start to this venture, I suppose. Alright. I’ll participate in your little coup. What do you need?”

I gestured to Strix and she said, “For now, very little. Just an invitation to Lord Pictor‘s estate, and a small escort. The streets aren’t safe these days, and the imperial guard aren’t… fond of Valerian, let’s say.”

He gave a terse nod. “That can be arranged. Both of them. I assume you’ll want that letter as quickly as possible.”

“Of course. Time is of the essence. The longer we take to mobilize, the more chances Nero has to intercede.”

Like that, the meeting was over. Strix and the Marquis swept away in private conversation, leaving Duncan, Finn, and myself behind.

“Well,” I said, “that was interesting.”

Finn laughed darkly. “One way to put it. No backing out now; we’re conspirators in a coup. A coup against a ghost emperor. Not how I expected this trip to go.”

“Yeah. Kind of… intense, as far as outcomes go. Think we can pull it off?”

He shrugged. “We have to.”

Duncan seemed thoughtful. “Did you notice the same thing I did? The Marquis implied you were trying to be empress. Is that Strix’s real plan?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Hard to know for sure. It could be a convenient lie to unite the nobility. But why the necessity? Wouldn’t she prefer to be empress herself?”

“She needs us to provoke change, so maybe her plan wouldn’t work if she were the figurehead?”

“Could be. Maybe her plan is to use us until there’s enough momentum, then crown herself empress after the dust has settled.”

Finn asked the most important question: “Do we care? So long as we get access to the library, I don’t think it really matters who Strix wants in charge. This is a city of ghosts. Everything here is dead. Gone. Ancient history.”

I toyed with my wineglass and considered that. “Hmm.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“I’m not so sure we should just discount this place. There are a lot of ghosts here, and if we could really unite them, find a way to break them out of this malaise… there’s power in this city. If I can seize it.” I brooded.

Duncan slowly nodded. “That’s a fair point. If we raised an army of ghosts, it might prove useful. They could at the very least augment our defenses. Help us, when the enemy arrives.”

I started to become more animated. “Exactly. And imagine the kind of message it sends back home if we reclaim the very heart of the fallen empire. We’ll be legends. Fuck the Council, we can go right past them and inspire the whole of the island. We might not even need the palace library if this plan works.”

Fin chuckled. “I guess being crowned empress is a pretty good way to convince people you’re the chosen one.”

I grinned. “With an empire at my command, the Council wouldn’t dare stand in my way. We’ll have free reign to fulfill the prophecy. Morgan will be forced to acknowledge me as chosen one. As chosen empress.”

I realized they were both looking at me funny, though neither said anything.

“What? Relax, it’s just a harmless bit of speculation.” I tried to turn my hungry grin into a friendly smirk, and didn’t entirely succeed.

Duncan said, “Don’t let this city mislead you, Gwyn. This place looks pretty, but I feel a darkness inside it. Lurking behind every one of these ghosts. I’m beginning to understand why the empire fell, I think.”

“Besides the Gates malfunctioning, you mean.”

“Mm,” she grunted in response, “I’m still thinking about that particular aspect.”

We bickered a bit more until Strix returned, alone.

She rubbed her ethereal hands together and said, “Good news, everyone. The improper dead are waking up.”

I frowned. “Out of context that line does not sound like good news. In context, I’m still not convinced. I take it your conversation with the fop went well?”

“Extremely. I was able to make serious progress in discussing new topics. He has promised to get us that letter of invitation, and a small escort to safely reach Lord Pictor. This is a small victory, Valerian, but a meaningful one. This is the beginning of a grand partnership, I just know it.”

It vaguely annoyed me that she kept using my fake name even when we were alone, but it wasn’t worth bringing up. “Yes… speaking of that partnership, I think you let a detail pass unnoticed: the throne. You wanted the Marquis to think I was trying to become empress, didn’t you?”

She smiled. “Guilty as charged. I don’t know what it’s like in your part of the world, Valerian, but the imperials do things a certain way. This is a rebellion, not a revolution. The nobility would never back an attack on the status quo, but a shift in power, that they’ll support. You must convince them that you are a worthy empress to succeed Nero, one who will reward loyalty and punish her enemies.”

“And what then? What if we take the throne? Do you intend to let me keep it, or will you swoop in to claim the prize yourself?”

She laughed. “Oh, please. They would never tolerate me as empress. Besides, once the palace is yours, I hardly think I’d be able to take it from you. No, I’m not planning a second coup, not when one will suffice. My interest is in seeing the empire redeemed, and nothing more. I am your faithful adviser.” Strix winked at me, which mildly undercut her trust-building attempt.

Regardless of what her intentions might be, we’d taken the first step. “Alright. Are we going now, or will it take time for Asellio to draft an invitation?”

“An hour. Besides, it would be rude to leave early.”

“Well we can’t have that,” I muttered. I polished off my wineglass and looked around for more. A servant obliged.

Duncan frowned. “I thought the empire mostly used slaves for menial tasks. These servants look like kindred. Why?”

Strix adopted an amused expression. “The kine are good for brute labor, yes, but little more. Many Lords employ them as laborers and on estates with taskmasters, but most kine work in factories or off-world.”

Duncan’s frown deepened. “Then… how did they manage to threaten you? If most of your slaves were elsewhere, why does the city bear so many signs of riot?”

I noticed that Duncan kept saying slave, while Strix insisted on kine. It was a small detail, but one I filed away.

Strix said, “Because most of our legions were also elsewhere. The heartland was secure, full of powerful warlocks and elite imperial guard. We… we never anticipated that the kine here would become a threat. Well, the empire never anticipated. Another ignored warning.” A touch of bitterness crept into her tone.

I asked, “Did you warn the empire about many things, Strix?”

I reached for the cold again and sent feelers towards Strix, but this time her emotions were more distant, harder to grasp. She was resisting me. Our eyes met, and I knew that she knew.

She replied curtly, “I voiced concerns. The details aren’t relevant to our current position. If I feel they become relevant, I will share.”

“Of course.” I let the matter drop.

Eventually the Marquis returned with a sealed letter (don’t ask me how he did that – I wasn’t even sure it had anything written on it) and two footmen.

“These boys will escort you to Pictor’s estate, and stay with you for as long as needed. Can’t have any trouble popping up, yes?” He smiled jovially and Strix returned it, cat-like.

“We’ll take good care of them, old friend. I look forward to our next meeting.”

“Likewise.”

Then we left, which meant more walking. To pass the time, I interrogated Strix about our next move.

“So, Strix. What are we trying to get out of Lord Pictor? Another pledge of support? More troops?”

“Oh, nothing of the sort,” she said breezily. “In fact, Lord Pictor would stand by Nero with his dying breath – or, his undying breath, I suppose.”

“What?” I demanded. “Then why are we going right into his domain?”

“Because, protege, in his slavish loyalty to the emperor he has managed to vex me, and make our plans the slightest bit more difficult. First, another history lesson.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Long ago, the empire had a senate that presided over matters, wrote laws, the like. A prior empress abolished the senate and replaced them with the Triumvirate, three Consuls that manage imperial bureaucracy and wield great influence. Traditionally, the Triumvirate has been instrumental in selecting the next sovereign.”

There was an expectant pause, and I reluctantly said, “Okay, so if we get the backing of the Triumvirate it will force the nobility to acknowledge us. Does the Triumvirate have a grudge against the guy or something?”

“In a sense. A century back, Pictor’s goons captured a Consul. The man they captured, Cossus, had enough wit about him to prepare for death, and possesses most of his faculties. Freeing him will put you in his good graces, and secure an endorsement. With that, we can begin recruiting the nobility in earnest.”

“That’s something, at least.” I paused. “How, exactly, are we going to pull this off? We have three ghosts and three living. I don’t think we can storm the castle.”

She shook her head. “Of course not. Stealth is the key. You’ll make niceties with him, take a tour, and explain you’re new to the city and that Marquis Asellio recommended you to him. Don’t mention my involvement. Play nice until you can get out of sight, then bring the footmen with you to the dungeons. Cossus should be there, and the footmen should be able to deal with whatever guards are posted, if you act quickly and throw in some sorcery to help out.”

“Hold up. What about you? You’re not coming?”

“Pictor and I aren’t on good terms. Even hiding our bid for power from him, he still knows of my anti-Nero sentiment. My presence would only diminish your chances of slipping under his notice.”

“Fine. I’ll make do without you, I guess.”

“You’ll be fine.” She smiled. “Trust me.”

I didn’t, but I nodded anyways. Finn and Duncan looked as uneasy as I felt.

“Kaeso Asellio is a Marquis, which means he’s wealthier than the average citizen and gets invited to a great many parties, but holds little political sway. He only has half a dozen house guards in his employ, and the property we’re going to is the only dwelling he owns in the city. He is, to all appearances, an unremarkable man.”

Strix was giving us more background, and I was doing my best to remember it all.

“Of course, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, that appearance is inaccurate. Asellio’s family name gives him an in to the circles of high nobility, and his distance from court politics makes him an ideal go-between. The savvy aristocrat makes good use of his mediation. I’ve worked with him in the past.” She didn’t specify what kind of work.

I frowned. “Valeria wanted to be called by her title and first name. Why is this Marquis different?”

“Because he’s a Marquis, and descendant of a Lord. The family name denotes a proud lineage, but it is also a mark of privilege. Those who have earned their power will not take kindly to being reduced to family ties.” Her tone was warning, and I took extra care to memorize that detail.

“Got it. So why him first?” Duncan and Finn trailed behind us, and every so often I glanced back at them. They seemed to be adjusting about as well as I was.

Strix said, “Getting him to vouch for you will make getting access to various estates much easier. His retinue, small in number though it might be, will also be a helpful deterrent against any loyalists we encounter before our own army starts to build.

“He’s also a bit more whole than most of the ghosts in the city. He didn’t take the full rites, but he knew this was coming. He’s sympathetic to the cause.”

I nodded. “Alright. So what’s the plan, and what’s our story?”

“You are Valerian, a young warlock – magic user – with exceptional talent and high ambition. You’ve come from distant shores to Aurelion because our beloved emperor is neglecting his obligations, and wish to remind him of them. You have kept out of the public view until now because you were still honing your skills and assessing the situation, but now you are ready to act.”

I said, “That might be a hard sell, since there’s a whole kind of magic I’m not versed in, and I know almost nothing about the politics of the city.”

“Agreed. But we can spin it to our advantage. Valerian is fiery and driven, but she is also calm and calculating. Many have underestimated you in the past, taken your unassuming exterior for weakness or inadequacy, when in fact it is simply the style of one who does not need dramatic gestures to make their point. The backing of a few powerful figures will give weight to that idea; why would you gain such support so quickly if there wasn’t something of substance there? It will be a tricky game, but one I have full confidence in.”

I considered that, accepted it, and let Strix continue.

“We’re going to make our introductions to Asellio and see a bit of his estate and staff. Then, he’ll leave us to our rooms. I’ll teach you and Maia the basics of glamour, as much as I can in the span of a few hours. Asellio will invite us for brunch, and you’ll have an opportunity to practice your glamour as you, Asellio, and myself have a conversation determining the extent of his involvement in our little scheme, and what he gets out of it.

“I shall warn you now: Marquis Asellio is low nobility, but he is still noble. Never enter a noble’s domain unprepared, and never let your guard down among them. Every word, every gesture is part of the game. You will need to become trained in it, and quickly. Watch him carefully, and choose your words even more so. Just because he’s predisposed to our faction doesn’t mean this will be effortless.”

We approached Asellio’s estate, and Strix gave a final word of warning. “Maia, Felix, you won’t be expected to participate in this conversation unless prompted. As bodyguard, Maia is to remain by Valerian’s side at all times. Felix, you have a bit more freedom of movement, but don’t expect the staff to be very lucid.”

They both nodded, and we walked up the steps to the Marquis’s front door.

Strix reached out to knock it, then paused.

“Actually, you should probably do that. Knocking is easy for you, with your fleshy body.”

I almost detected a hint of humor in her tone, but chose to ignore it. I knocked on the door, and seconds later it creaked open. A plain-dressed ghost of a woman stood in the doorway, with a servile expression on her ethereal face.

“Guests?” the servant asked.

Strix nodded. “We’re expected. Tell Kaeso that Strix is here, and she’s brought a new arrival to the city.”

The servant nodded, eyes dull and unseeing, and led us inside to a small waiting room, tastefully decorated but covered in a truly potent layer of dust. “The Marquis will be with you in just a moment,” she assured us.

Strix was done expositing at us, so we spent the next minute in tense silence as we waited for the Marquis to show up. When he did, he was about as underwhelming as I’d been expecting. Which I suppose made him perfectly whelming.

“Ah, old friend, how are you? And who are these delightful visitors?” Asellio had a boring face and a sense of style that blended into the architecture, but his voice had a supplicating quality to it, as of someone used to placating the rich and powerful. “Oh, but forgive me, we haven’t been introduced. I am the Marquis of this humble estate, Kaeso of the house Asellio.” He gave a decent bow and smiled at us.

Strix dipped her head slightly, then gestured at each of us in turn. “This is a valued ally of mine, Valerian. She’s a warlock from distant shores, come here to help us with our sovereign situation. Those are her bodyguard, Maia of the house Bellicus, and her personal doctor, Felix of the house Ivmarus.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Valerian, and that of your staff. I am sure you will have a fascinating story to tell me, but I’m afraid I must tend to my estate. Please, make yourselves at home in the guest rooms. You’ll be joining me for brunch, I hope?”

I followed Strix’s lead and made a slight inclination of my head, hoping it came off as aloof rather than nervous. I smiled thinly, but not coldly, and stood there in a manner as least awkward as I could manage. To either side of me, I saw Maia scanning the room and Felix with his hands in his pockets.

Kaeso seemed to buy it, and Strix filled in for me verbally. “We’ll be delighted to do so, Marquis. Your hospitality is always appreciated.”

He offered some more meaningless pleasantries and then departed. The servant showed us to our rooms and we all crowded into one.

“Well,” Strix said, “that went decently. We don’t have much time, so let’s make this quick; time to start your training in glamour.”

Finn sat on a bed to watch us while Duncan and I arranged ourselves in front of Strix.

“Now, I can’t give you any example of glamour, owing to my distasteful state of unlife, but the principle is simple enough to convey. In fact, I believe you can explain the first half of it without my help. I shall ask you this: how does sorcery work?”

Duncan and I looked at each other, and I shrugged for her to go first. “Well, I guess I just reach inside myself for my anger and… shove it out.”

Strix nodded. “An accurate, if simple, description. The first path is about anger, and violence. It’s about harnessing the resonance of pain and applying it to your kindred energy. Anger, fury, hatred. Righteous indignation, fiery loathing, all these permutations of anger conjure the necessary resonance to empower your magic and unleash it.

“Sorcery is the easiest magic to learn because it has the most common emotional resonance and the simplest expression of power. Whether it is the swing of a sword or lightning from your fingertips, sorcery is really just pushed out from you in the general direction of whatever you want to torture.”

I ventured a guess. “So, glamour is different, then? More complex?”

She nodded. “Glamour is the art of deception. It is about reading your opponents and tricking their senses. With glamour, you need a bit more creativity, a bit more perception. Instead of pushing out your energy, you carefully direct it inward, altering your appearance or gaining an awareness of strong emotions near you. A useful tool for a spy.

“Obviously, glamour’s energy does not use anger. Have any ideas what it might be instead?”

It was a tricky question. “Um… malice? Guilt? Smugness?”

Strix smirked a little. “Not quite. Glamour uses cold. Callousness, detachment, the ability of a savvy politician to separate their emotions from their actions and words. Glamour uses the resonance of detachment, of separating yourself from your emotions and feelings and letting cold calculation guide your thoughts. Give it a try. Don’t worry if it doesn’t come immediately, I imagine it isn’t something as familiar as anger.”

I gave Duncan a skeptical glance, then flopped myself onto a bed and tried to do as Strix suggested. She was right; it wasn’t as easy as conjuring my anger. I was emotional. Strong feelings came naturally to me, and the instinct to act on them. Suppressing them was something I’d never had much luck with.

Still, I gave it a shot. I went through each emotion that was lingering in me, tasting each one. Anger at the council. Doubt in myself. Fear of failure. I found each subtle nuance of despair and fury and guilt, and I let them slip away from me. Breathing exercises helped, but it still took me many frustrated minutes before I could even approach that feeling of cold Strix had described.

The detachment wasn’t even the hard part, not really. I could do detached. I could do focus. But there was a frenetic energy under my skin that refused to calm down, refused to act coldly. I was a creature of impulse.

Every time I felt that cold serenity brush my skin, I lunged for it and it slipped away. It burned away at the slightest touch. It vexed me, but I wasn’t going to give up. I had to master this, just like I’d mastered sorcery.

So I tried something different: I stopped trying to let go, and instead brought all that emotion back inside me. I clung to my anger and fear and atavistic need and I embraced all of them. Slowly, carefully, individual sensations began to blur, and merge together into one overpowering feeling: determination.

Glamour would be mine. This noble would be mine. This city would be mine. I was the chosen one, and nothing could dare stand in my way. My anger was useful, but right then it served best refocused into determination and willpower. The fire in my veins started to burn cold, and all my concerns vanished.

I immersed myself in the cold, felt its crystalline clarity, and opened my eyes. Duncan was still sitting there. Finn had gotten bored of watching us. Strix monitored me closely, her face giving away nothing.

Almost nothing. I looked for details I never had before. The subtleties of her stance. The lines on her face. Tiny motions that meant nothing individually, but that together formed a profile. Many of them I’d been noticing instinctively, little details that told me when someone was happy or sad or furious. But, many of them weren’t so obvious. Tells, like a gambler looked for.

Strix didn’t have many, but she had a few. The light in her eyes. The stillness of her fingers. The mere item that she was watching me instead of watching both of us.

She was waiting for me to do something. Waiting for me to use my magic. She’d only told us to try and find detachment. She hadn’t said anything about using that power, about the intricacies of what glamour actually did. And yet, somehow, she expected me to know. Or… to figure it out.

I hated the idea of being tested by someone I barely knew. I’d spent far too many years being questioned and prodded and tested over and over again by Morgan and the chantry. I’d endured far too long being denied my place because there were other ‘potentials’.

But that hatred wasn’t useful, not in the moment. If I was to learn anything from my exile, it was that. Action born of anger, action without purpose, could only harm my aims. So I suffocated my irritation at Strix and started thinking through her test.

Sorcery was anger, transformed into magic, expressed forcefully. Glamour was detachment, transformed into magic, directed inward. Strix had said it was about altering one’s appearance and reading one’s enemies.

I closed my eyes again, and let my sense of self wander in search of a familiar friend: my anger. I felt that burning red font, always so close to the surface, always ready to become lightning at my fingertips. I reached deeper, through the well and out the other side, and I caught hold of the power within it; kindred magic.

That crackling, hungry energy burned red, but there was a coldness within it, too. Another well of power, one that I could only now begin to understand, begin to reach out to. I threw myself into that well, wrapped myself in its energy, and bent it to my will.

Cold fire coursed through my veins, and I shaped it into light. I opened my eyes, and looked at my hand, and imagined it cloaked in a velvet glove. With a pulse of cold energy, it took form.

There was something slimy about glamour. Something slithering. It felt like tendrils of mist curling around me. I could almost see them, almost feel their coldness in the air. I drew one of those tendrils towards Strix, and let it reach inside her in search of sensation.

I felt curiosity, and satisfaction, but both were at a distance, brought to me through a curtain of fog. These were Strix’s emotions, not mine. I could feel them. I could touch them. I could almost move them, change them. But that power eluded me, for the moment.

I drew back from Strix and let the cold magic fade. I didn’t feel as exhausted as I would after straining my sorcery, but there was still fatigue, just a more mental one.

Strix smiled. “Well done, Valerian. An excellent first outing. It would seem my assessment of your abilities was accurate.”

Duncan smiled at me, too. “Nice work, Gwyn.”

Out of curiosity, or perhaps something more, I reached for that cold well again and reached out towards Duncan. I felt… not entirely what I was expecting. There was disappointment, but it was internal, self-directed. And it was mixed with an odd shade of relief, as if her own failure somehow alleviated a fear.

Something must have showed on my face, because her own expression wavered and said, “Are you, um, still doing it?”

I relaxed my magic again and plastered something vaguely comforting onto my face. “Sorry, just exploring this new power. It’s very different from sorcery. I’m not entirely sure I have the hang of it yet.”

Duncan seemed to accept that, though Strix not so readily. She still wore a charming mask, but some of what I’d noticed before was still there. Curiosity, like she was watching a wild animal try to open a cage.

I moved to change the conversation. “So, Strix. What next? How does having this magic help me with Asellio?”

“Ah, glad you asked. As I said, he’s an easy sell, but there’s still a bit of risk. With glamour, you can tell when he’s unsure, when he’s doubtful, and change tactics to address his concerns. He’ll lie to your face and tell you his delight, but your magic will reveal the truth. Knowledge is a potent weapon when paired with a silver tongue.”

I gave her a skeptical look. “Right, well, I don’t a silver tongue is going to be as easy to unlock as glamour was. Unless that too is an area of kindred magic?”

“Sadly not. You’ll have to make do with your wits. You’ve done fine so far. Just keep up the brooding stranger aesthetic and it should be a breeze.”

The next hour or so was spent with Strix briefing me on little details I’d need to remember, the names of various Lords and the basic talking points of my argument. Then the door opened again, a servant ushered us out, and the meeting began.