Her eyes flashed, and she let her veil slip enough to add spiritual weight to the next word. “…instructed.”
Naru Huan’s thoughts turned cold. After the devastation of the Bleeding Phoenix, the Blackflame Empire was hanging together by a thread. The Jai clan had fallen, and the Arelius family had yet to rise to their place, so the west was fractured and lawless. The attacks from the Trackless Sea up north had intensified, the wall that defended them broken by the Dreadgod’s rampage. To the east, the Wastelanders were having a difficult time holding back the dragons, and beyond the southern jungles, the Seishen Kingdom eyed his lands.
The Empire his mother had saved from the Blackflame family was now webbed with cracks. One firm tap could send it all crumbling to pieces. Over a hundred million people would divide into a thousand splinter kingdoms, all at war with one another.
The offered reward didn’t matter to him, although anything that came straight from the Akura family would surely be dazzling. No, the Empire needed stability. Training in the Night Wheel Valley would help him with that, as it would strengthen the sacred artists loyal to him. And competing on the world stage would allow him to make connections he could never have dreamed of otherwise.
His homeland would die or thrive based on the Akura family’s favor.
“We will not fail you,” he swore. He had no ill will toward his southern neighbor, the Seishen Kingdom, but he would crush them if he had to. Anything to distinguish his Empire to the clan that ruled them all.
The Sage’s owl took off from her shoulder, swirling over the heads of the crowd around the Emperor. He could feel them trying not to shiver. “One final note: I will be monitoring you to make sure that your competition with the Kingdom does not get too far out of hand. Conduct yourselves like honorable sacred artists with the reputation of the Akura clan behind you. However, the Night Wheel Valley will undoubtedly be dangerous. Only sacred artists willing to risk their safety should be allowed inside.”
The owl settled onto the head of a nearby servant, who looked like she would pass out. Akura Charity reached out a hand, and that servant scurried to present a tray full of drinks to her. She selected a shallow bowl, allowed the servant to fill it with dark wine, but she did not drink.
She looked down, staring deeply into the surface of the wine as she spoke. “That concludes our business on behalf of my family.”
Naru Huan was not fooled into thinking this meeting was over. She wanted something else, and was making it clear that she didn’t represent her family in doing so.
“I have kept my eye on someone from your Empire,” she continued. “A young Blackflame, contracted to a sacred turtle.”
Naru Huan remembered descriptions of Eithan’s disciple. “There is no true member of the Blackflame family remaining,” he hedged. He couldn’t lie to a Sage, but he wanted to know more about her interest in the boy before he gave her the answer she sought. The more he knew, the more advantage he might be able to squeeze out of the situation.
The Sage continued examining the wine. She did not increase the power of her soul.
But the rest of the world turned black.
It was as though only Naru Huan and Akura Charity existed, and everything else was swallowed by a sea of endless black. Behind the Sage’s head, an apparition loomed up, like the sudden appearance of a Remnant; it was a huge book, wrought of silver and purple light, with a shining Remnant eye in its center.
The eye swiveled, locking onto Naru Huan, and he began to sweat.
Out of instinct, he released the veil around his spirit, trying to fend off this attack with his power…but he failed. Nothing happened. His soul remained tightly bound, his madra still. His body trembled, as an inexplicable dread pressed in on him from the outside.
“You should not lie to me,” Charity suggested. She took a sip of wine.
As quickly as it had appeared, the darkness vanished. The book disappeared like a hallucination, and the fear snapped out of existence.
Leaving the Emperor, sweating and trembling in the middle of his court. His wife looked at him in concern, and all the others in shock.
They had only seen him lose his nerve for no apparent reason. He collected himself, pretending nothing had happened, but his face burned with shame. He swallowed his broken pride for the sake of the Empire, pushing his head down into a reluctant bow.
“We beg your forgiveness, Sage,” the Emperor said.
Then he told her about Eithan’s disciple.
When he had finished, Charity did not react. She told him nothing about why she had wanted to know, merely placed her now-empty cup back on the servant’s tray and inclined her head.
From above, he heard the warbling cries of Remnant horses returning, dragging the carriage behind them again.
“I will not be staying the night,” Charity said. “I must deliver the same message to your neighbors. In two months, I will return and open the gateway to the Night Wheel Valley for your Empire. In that time, you should gather up all your best prospects and strongest fighters here in Blackflame City.”
The carriage didn’t even touch the ground. It swept by, its door flickering open and closed, and she slipped inside in one motion.
The Sage’s voice drifted behind her. “Work hard, Your Imperial Highness.”
When she was gone, the courtyard erupted. Everyone questioned him all at once, or else offered their own opinions on what to do. Their decorum as members of his court was entirely forgotten.
He let them ramble. There was only one thing they could do: contact all the Underlords and have them bring their disciples to Blackflame City as soon as possible. It would strain his resources to contact everyone and have them return within two months, but he would spare no expense.
After that, he had only to hope that this generation had some hidden dragons.
~~~
The Skysworn’s flying city of Stormrock was built on a massive green cloudbank. Guard towers loomed over forbidding walls of black stone, even as one tower rose over the rest of the city.
Starsweep Tower. Headquarters of the Skysworn.
Other cloudships, Thousand-Mile Clouds, carriages pulled by winged creatures, and flying sacred artists had to stop at the gates of the city, but Naru Gwei’s cloudship soared over the walls without even slowing down. They headed straight to the highest floor of Starsweep Tower, where a broad path of stone jutted out like a bridge to nowhere. The dock for his ship.
Flanked on all sides by Skysworn, Lindon and the others followed Naru Gwei into the tower.
The last time they had visited, the Skysworn had treated them with outward hostility. This time, the looks from those they passed changed: instead of revulsion or pity, now Lindon saw more outright horror.
Dross made a soft hum inside Lindon's head as a green-clad woman pressed herself against the wall to slide past Lindon, even though there were several paces between them. [Oh, they're afraid! Are they afraid of you?] He lowered his voice, as though he didn't want to be overheard, even though he was speaking directly into Lindon's thoughts. [Do they hate you? On second thought, forget I said anything. Best not to dwell on it. They probably like you too much, that’s why they’re running from you.]
They didn't expect us to make it to Truegold, Lindon replied. At least, he assumed that was the reason. He couldn't imagine why else the Skysworn would be afraid of seeing them in the custody of their Underlord Captain.
[Good! That’s good. I was worried it was your face. And you know what? It makes sense. I didn't expect you to live to Truegold either. Every day you survive is a new surprise for me. Full of surprises, you are.]