Wind howled in Aleks’ ear, pulling his cloak in all directions and threatening to drag him from his perch. Scowling at the sky, fingers clamped onto rough stone, he chanced a look down. The city of Wiernock lay beneath him, winding roads and ill-lit caverns hardly visible, but still more so than the city itself. Wiernock was the Mountain City—the capital of all Ogien. Archways carved into the mountainside revealed the city beneath, sculpted into an almost completely hollowed out mountain, strengthened and supported by old magic. It was a wonder people from all over Attem Sum traveled miles to see, a gift from an ancient magic lost to time. And home to an emperor whose life he planned to take.

The mountain itself seemed to groan beneath the weakened state of its natural support, the wind howling over the edges of the stone and cutting through Aleks’ clothes with a startling cold. He grit his teeth and peered into the hallway behind him—finally empty. Though his mask would hide his presence well enough, the constant flapping of his cloak in this never-ending wind would give him away sure enough. So, cursing the fangs of cold that bit at him, Aleks released the clasp on his cloak and let it disappear with a deafening crack, carried by the wind to places unknown.

The hallway was quiet despite the buffeting wind that should have coursed through the hallway via the open arched windows that lined it. A warmth seemed to radiate from the stone itself—a jarring departure from the briskness of the cliff-face. Shadows retreated from the vision of Aleks’ mask, pure white and faceless, so the hall lay bare to him. He touched his hand to his left wrist, pulling at the bracelet there. Something felt wrong.

Ears straining for any sound beyond the soft padding of his own feet, Aleks approached the thick double doors at the far end of the hall. But he was met with silence; there were no voices, no footsteps, no papers ruffling or servants arguing. As far as he could tell, the emperor’s quarters were empty. Surprise tugging his lips down into a concerned frown, Aleks filed that tidbit away for later examination. The emperor was to be crowned tomorrow and yet the hallway to his chambers lay empty of any guards or servants.

Though this palace had been abandoned centuries ago, when Ogien moved towards an oligarchy of council, it remained in surprisingly good condition. Hearing nothing beyond the double doors, Aleks pushed them open without a creak or a groan. The silence was absolute.

He ducked into the room, letting it shut with a faint click behind him, his gaze scouring the room for any threat. The room was still. The usual superfluous finery of the wealthy decorated the walls, a grand bed sat central to the circular room. An array of tall chairs and long reclining lounges sat empty before a cold fireplace, a powerful desk carved from local pine backed against a tall window whose width spanned half the room.

It allowed for an expansive view over the mountainous realm of Ogien, all the way toward the ocean out west. Silhouetted against the gray light that filtered in through clouds that hung over the mountain like a veil was a tall figure with broad, powerful shoulders. And judging by the straightness of his back and the way he peered out onto his realm, Aleks guessed it was the soon-to-be Emperor of Ogien.

In the weeks since he’d been here, Aleks had learned a great deal about the Sons of Inan. He’d heard the stories they told about their rise to power, about how they’d taken Wiernock in a single night. He’d heard about the Hundred Sworn—the elite members of their armed forces. But more than anything, he’d heard about their leader. A God, they’d called him. An ancient creature, inhabiting a human body, destined to lead humanity back to an age of magic.

Aleks would find the truth of it. The point of his knife would prove it, one way or the other.

Dodging between furniture and stepping over discarded papers and fine silken clothes, Aleks approached the man from behind. Though he’d done this a thousand times, his heart still pounded a beat in his chest, the mask on his face thrumming in response. The dagger came free from its sheath without a sound and Aleks crept forward until that sixth-sense all people have told his target that something was right behind him.

But as always, it was too late.

The would-be god’s breath escaped his lips with a dull uff as Aleks’ dagger slipped between his ribs and into his heart. He stumbled forward, reaching for the window to hold himself up before collapsing to the floor. Taking breaths to slow his own heartbeat, Aleks wiped his dagger on his pants and replaced it in its sheath. The emperor rolled over, blood pooling beneath him and stared up at Aleks through tears. He opened his mouth, but the words would not come, until with a final rattling breath, he stopped moving.

A god? Aleks scoffed. Replacing his dagger in its sheath, he stepped over the growing pool of blood and peered through the window. An oblong that stretched half the length of the room, the window was little more than a hole carved into the side of the hollowed-out mountain, decorated with obscene scenes from Ogien’s long history.

White-grey curtains of cloud obscured much of the view besides the reaching stone and forest below where the slopes of Mount Miasto stretched out to meet the next mountain in its great range. The road that zig-zagged up the face of Miasto to reach the cities wound down the slopes toward a valley, where a number of small villages lay hidden beneath the sheltering arms of the forest.

Just as Aleks felt himself beginning to fall into the scenery, he heard the door click open behind him. Biting back a curse, he leaped and rolled behind the desk, pulling his dagger free once more in a smooth motion. The footsteps of two or three people echoed around the palace room before stopping a few feet from the door. Aleks glanced at the still corpse of the emperor, obscured from view by the same long desk he’d hidden behind.

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Heart and mask keeping a steady beat, Aleks steeled himself. They’d discover the body soon enough, but so long as he kept still and made no sound, the mask would hide him.

“He is here,” a deep voice grumbled. “Or someone is. I sense them.”

“If he is… dead, what will we do, Sire? It is almost time.”

“We will find another,” the deep voice responded. “But the timing is unfortunate. I’d hoped to have an Emperor on the throne before the Court arrived.”

Aleks froze—he didn’t quite understand what was happening. Who was that, and how could they speak of an Emperor or God as something disposable? How would they even know he was dead. There was a momentary pause as they made their way around the room, Aleks tracking their footsteps as best he could. One of them approached the desk and circled it, stopping short with a loud gasp. “He’s here, my lord.” The woman’s voice shook as if she was on the verge of tears. “He’s… He’s dead.”

There was a sigh, followed by slow footsteps rounding the table. “I feared as much.”

The woman appeared first, kneeling down beside the body, careful to avoid the slow spreading blood. She was a slight thing, barely out of her teens, with yellow hair that fell past her shoulders. She touched a hand gingerly to his neck before looking past the desk and shaking her head.

Aleks sat as quiet as he could, mere feet from the girl, dagger clutched to his chest. The girl didn’t notice him, the mask hiding him from her vision. He spotted the silver chain she wore around her neck, a long pin dangling over the folds of her dress. A simple thing, but here in Ogien it carried the weight of the Sons of Inan.

“How could this happen?” The first voice growled. He appeared behind the girl, a small man for the Ogienese, but that was hardly his most defining feature. Power seeped from every pore. His skin was riddled with what looked like cracks, faint mist pouring free. There was a pressure—a weight that settled on Aleks at the sight of this creature that threatened to suffocate him. He knew immediately he’d made a mistake—knew that the Sons were right. This was a god. And whoever he’d killed had been little more than a puppet.

Worst of all, his eyes swiveled from the corpse to Aleks. Lips curling back in a feral snarl, he uttered a single word. “You.”

Mind racing, instinct taking over, Aleks scurried back. The creature had seen him, spotted him through the mask’s power. Fear flooded him with adrenaline, lending him speed. Not wanting to give the girl or the monster that flanked her the time to react, Aleks leapt to his feet and launched himself forward. The girl fell backwards with a cry as Aleks’ foot connected with her gut, the air rushing out of her as she hit the ground.

Swiveling on his foot, his dagger flashed forward, aimed at the monster’s throat. But he was too fast, pulling his torso back so his throat was a feather’s touch from the blade’s edge. The mask’s beat quickened in a way that screamed panic, but Aleks ignored it. He reached for the small man’s wrist, reversing his grip on the dagger and striking at his chest, but both attempts were met with nothing but air.

With a step so fast Aleks failed to see it, the Ogienese man was inside his guard. His hands formed fists and struck in tandem, too fast to dodge. One sunk itself into his gut, the other cracking a rib and Aleks found himself on the ground, his lungs empty and screaming for breath.

“You killed our emperor.” The creature spoke, a strange accent clipping each word short. He loomed over Aleks, eyes narrowed and jaw tensed. “Before I kill you, I will have the name of your employer.”

“What are you?” Aleks knew his ploy for time was clumsy. But he had few other cards to play. “You’re not human, that much is apparent.”

The girl behind him rose to her feet, her face contorted in a look of rage. “You will not address Him unless it is to answer His question!”

The man ignored her, his head tilting to one side and his eyes roaming over the plains of the mask. “Lasinun wood,” he murmured to himself. “Feels like Olarak’s work. Ties to memory and fear. But he has busied himself up north.” He shook his head. “Your accent is eastern. Not Erisian, of course. Virtheld perhaps? The Shackled spent some time there.”

The mask continued to race with emergency, so Aleks was forced to rely on other methods to calm himself. Taking breaths, focusing on the slowing beat of his heart, Aleks searched for a way out of his predicament. “The shackled? Is that this Olarak you mentioned?”

“You’ve not heard of him?” The man chuckled. “A shame. Men of this age forget their origins so easily.”

Eyes still focused on the seething beast that towered over him, Aleks began to inch backwards, using his left hand to support him so it rest beside his belt. If this man was faster than Aleks, then guile would have to be his savior. “Origins?” He asked. “You speak of gods. But there are countless gods across the lands of Attem Sum.”

The man heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Your attempts to distract me are pitiful.” He crouched down so he was eye-level with Aleks. “Your accent is from Kinian Maa. Small island to the east of Eris. I wonder what your little monarch could want with us, though? No matter.”

Faster than lightning illuminated the sky, his hand shot out and wrapped around Aleks’ throat. He wheezed, the life squeezing from him in soft gasps. Spots began to appear in his vision, his lungs burning for air.

“When Ogien is mine, I will deal with your little island next. One of the Else must have sent you here. I will root them out and—”

With a flick of his wrist and a jerk of his hips, Aleks pulled free a pouch from his belt and flung the contents at the creature’s eyes. The cloud of crushed glass glimmered in the half-light and the beast let loose a deep howl, his hand releasing Aleks’ throat. Aleks touched a hand to his neck, heaving deep breaths. Tears hampered his vision, but his mask prevented the glass from damaging him.

The man stumbled backwards, hands to his eyes, screeching in a voice twice torn. High pitched screaming and a howl deep enough that it vibrated through Aleks’ chest tore through the room. The woman’s voice echoed her master’s and she rushed to his side.

But Aleks had no time to waste. Still gasping for breath, his throat throbbing in time with the rapid pulse of his mask, Aleks ran from the room. The doors boomed open, and without a look over his shoulder, he hopped through the window that had granted him entrance. He needed to put as much distance between him and this monster as fast as his legs could carry him. And then when he was safe, he’d send a message to Kinian Maa.

He had some questions for King Nalan and his ancient advisor, Matias. Who was this Olarak? What was an Else? And why had he really been sent here?