Once before in the recent past they’d tried it – the Chaos-Makers, they’d been calling them back then, according to the magister rattling off information over the link. They’d brought almost five hundred soldiers to the battle, and for seventy-two hours they maintained a foothold on the grounds – but eventually they’d given up their siege, retreated to the Thirteen Candles. Offensive magic could exit the Maginox’s shields but couldn’t enter. Defending the place was a doddle, and the stubborn proto-heretics had discovered this within minutes – yet it took them days to withdraw.

And that had basically been the end of the Chaos-Makers. Three years later, ‘Hierarch One’ emerged.

But the Srol Heretics never tried it. Not enough lives that could be easily ended, so the speculation went. Too much resistance. More so than their predecessors, the Srol were fixated on massacre.

The magister reciting a history-lesson sounded nervous as we cracked through the timeless airs over the forest, leaving behind a full fifty percent of our host. They would fight a steady retreat while we fortunate ones coasted the chronomancy of three of the city’s greatest arch-diviners towards Hightown. I supposed the guy had good reason to sound nervous – we were almost certainly heading into even greater danger, and Everseer had left the fight early; could it be she would have made her way north ahead of us?

As fast as Timesnatcher, Killstop and Zakimel could move us, I was certain Everseer could move even faster on her own.

And as much as I would’ve liked the opportunity to think about the past, the magister’s lessons were a distraction. It was my responsibility to think about the future.

What could the twins have to do with this?

The heretics never attacked the Maginox – not until Saff and Tarr took their first step on the path that could lead to them becoming, what, the greatest wizards since the days of Wyre Eldervane?

Was that it? Did the Srol just want the boys’ firepower on their side?

It was strange, though, I thought. The sorcerer I’d just been fighting spoke about dragons – did that relate to the vision Timesnatcher mentioned to me? There had to be a hundred crazies within a stone’s throw of my house that’d give you a hundred different stories of Mund’s impending doom, and everything ending in dragon-fire was certainly not unpopular…

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

‘After she used Feychilde to kill them’, that was what Lovebright said… and I understood it now.

She was going to use me to kill Saffys and Tarrance.

Why me? Because they trusted me?

Whatever the reason, Tyr Kayn had had her master-plan, and acted mere days after the twins became wizards. If I was right then surely now, after the ruin of the dragon’s plots and her departure from Mund, the heretics could be made to see sense? It was over. It was all over now. They didn’t need to arm themselves with the twins – they could stand down…

No. That wouldn’t happen. The dragon-apocalypse was probably nothing more than something they taught their lesser members, lies to fill the ears of their newbies like the boy I’d fought. Even if we’d headed off their supposed end-of-the-world scenario, they’d press on with their mission. The truth was probably just they wanted the twin arch-wizards to combat us – and to prevent us from wiping them out once the twins came into the fullness of their power.

Stormsword veered closer to me as we swept across the dark sky.

“Thinking about Zyger again, are we?” she asked. “Don’t even let –“

“No,” I cut her off. “Just about… the heretics.” I met her eyes. “Did you… you killed Thirteen?”

She shook her head, pouting slightly in discontent. “She had a healing potion – she escaped me.” Then I caught her slight, mischievous smile as she whispered, “Until ze next time.”

“You prefer fighting them to a dragon.”

“To a mind-controlling dragon.” She cast me a quizzical look. “What is it?”

I just shook my head.

Ashes, drifting out of my diamonds…

“Nothing,” I said.

We flew on, and I was only more troubled than before.

I watched you kill, Em. I watched you kill, and you didn’t even care.

“It… she…”

Don’t even try to explain it, Zel. Don’t you dare take her side on this. What would Nentheleme think?

“You think Nentheleme is opposed to death? Kas, you – you don’t understand anything…”

I don’t care if I understand. I can still judge. And it’s wrong.

“You’re a sorcerer-born – you’re supposed to –“

Love death? Did Dustbringer love death when he worked tirelessly just to buy his daughter some extra time? You were awake when I spoke to Killstop about it, you remember. Does Shallowlie love death, the one who stopped you killing yourself with my body along for the ride? Netherhame? You –

“You’re supposed to accept it.”

I had no response. My mind was blank, fit only to echo her.

Accept it…

“Accept it.”

* * *