To someone in Aleks’ line of work, there were few tools more dangerous than knowledge. Rumors spread in the right corners could topple a tyrant, secrets were traded as currency and a person’s history often predicted their future. And if there was one thing Aleks had been lacking in when he’d first come to Wiernock, it had been knowledge of the Sons of Inan.

He’d heard the rumors, of course. A cult founded by a resurrected god, cutting their way through Ogien and spreading the word of their triumph throughout all of Attem Sum. He’d done his homework when he’d arrived, too. Watched them, listened in on meetings, learned their structure and their beliefs.

But he’d not believed all he’d heard. That too would be folly.

So, he’d been surprised by the reality of their story. That a god walked among them, that he’d come back from the depths with a deep-set anger. And if that was true, what else that he’d heard was? Did this Nereden truly give them strength? Did he seek a doorway to a new world?

Aleks had little choice but to find out. He’d have to start his research anew, and to be safe, he’d need to be more direct about it. When he’d arrived in the Mountain City, he’d avoided direct contact with the Sons. He’d not wanted to give away his presence. But it was too late for that now.

The divide within the city became more apparent the further into the city Aleks traveled. With each floor he climbed, the silver pin and chain that marked the faithful became more prominent, and eventually Aleks’ lack of belief became an issue. Hard stares and fiery words followed him with each flight of stairs until, as Aleks had hoped, he picked up a tail. Grinning within his hood, Aleks turned down a narrow hallway.

The viewing port appeared first as an archway of light in the distance, the rough terrain of an opposing mountain, dense with forest, clearing up as he moved closer. Aleks touched a hand to the bracelet that hung at his left wrist; he’d promised to bring his wife and daughter here one day. But if Karina and Livi were ever to step foot here, best if the city wasn’t overrun by a murderous cult when they did.

Heart pounding a slow, steady beat in his chest, Aleks came to a stop. He was mere feet away from a sheer drop into the valley below, and though he could see the trees straining with the strength of the wind, he felt no hint of it. No whisper of its powerful roar penetrated the archway, though Aleks had been deafened by it on his trip down. Even as he heard the footsteps approaching him from behind, Aleks marveled at the magic—the sheer power—it must have taken to craft this whole city. Magic that had lasted centuries, maybe longer.

“When’d you spot us, lad?” The first man spoke with the song-like lilt of the Ogienese, a vast departure to the short, clipped accent of the god he’d fought.

Aleks turned, a small smile on his face. “Spotted you both downstairs. I do apologize, though. I don’t really fancy lads as large as you.” He shrugged apologetically. “Appreciate the interest, though.”

The larger one spoke, scratching at the whiskers on his chin. “Funny, this one.”

The second nodded, his own lips turned up in a smile. “Definitely him, eh? Recognize that accent anywhere.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a mouthful of worms, boy. How can you stand the sound of your own voice?”

“Decades of practice, I suppose.” His fingers flexed beneath his cloak, reaching for the dagger at his waist. “So, how can I help you?”

“His Holiness Nereden has requested your presence.” The first one took a step forward, one hand reaching beneath his cloak, the other outstretched toward Aleks. “Come peaceful and we won’t have to harm ya.”

Aleks took a step backward, grinning at the pair. “His Holiness, eh? Sounds important.” He needed to know who this man was; what was his plan, and why Ogien? These two did not seem the brightest, so a simple line of questioning would hopefully yield something Aleks could use. “He the new Emperor?”

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The smaller one scoffed. “Ain’t even heard of His Holiness? Gave yourself away, lad. Shouldn’t be up here if you’re not in the know.”

Aleks’ grin widened as his fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger. “Recent convert, boys. You’ll have to forgive me.”

“We’ll leave that to Him,” spoke the taller one, taking another step toward Aleks. He pulled his hand from his cloak, a narrow cudgel gripped between meaty fingers. “Come nice and easy and we’ll let Him do the ‘splaining, yeah?”

Aleks suppressed a frown. Maybe not so dense as he’d thought. He shook his head and sighed; worth a shot. “Sorry. Got other plans. Maybe next time.”

Snarling at him, the man swung his cudgel in an arc. Strong, perhaps, and definitely not stupid. But neither of these men were experienced fighters. With exaggerated ease, Aleks ducked beneath the man’s arm, pulling his dagger free. Spinning on the balls of his feet, he slashed at the back of his knee, an arc of blood spraying free. He continued with his momentum, bringing up his opposite elbow and crashing it into the second man’s nose.

There was a deafening boom, like thunder crashing over the mountains and a spray of rock that peppered Aleks’ face. He sputtered, eyes shut and arms covering his face. A moment of silence later and he opened his eyes, surprised at the carnage before him. The larger man had dropped to one knee, his cudgel at his side and blood pouring from his leg. But the wall beside where Aleks had stood had exploded as if with the force of a falling tree.

A noise from behind him caught Aleks attention, and it forced him to evade. Moving with the weight of an Erisian dancer, Aleks slipped behind the second man, sweeping at his feet and dropping him to the ground with a crash. He drove his fist into his gut, driving the air from him with a wheeze before stepping back to the first.

The large man snatched his cudgel from the floor and rose to his feet, limping as he turned to face Aleks. “Made a mistake,” he slurred, his voice thick with rage. “Should’ve killed me.”

A glint from his chest caught Aleks’ eye—the silver needle, glimmering as if held under sunlight. Wisps of smoke rose from where it hung on the chain, disappearing as the large man sucked deep breaths through his nose.

Before Aleks had the chance to piece together what was happening, the man attacked. Wild swings, but this time Aleks heard the power behind them; the crack of the air as it broke with each missed strike. Power enough, Aleks realised, to tear a chunk from the stone wall—from the mountain itself.

“He’s given you power,” Aleks murmured, weaving between enhanced blows. “This Nereden. What is he?”

“A god. Of Yurek and other worlds.” The man grunted with effort, vein throbbing in his forehead. “Don’ matter to you, though. He’ll kill you when we deliver you.”

His cudgel whizzed past Aleks’ face, crashing into the ground and flinging shards of stone upward. Snarling, Aleks dove away and rolled to his feet. Warm trickles of blood ran down his legs where the stone had cut him, filling his boots.

Grimacing, Aleks took a step backward and clenched his jaw. Slow as the man was, whatever strength this Nereden had gifted him meant one errant blow could crush his skull. He’d have to be careful.

By the time the dust had settled, the second man had risen to his feet, the pair of them stalking toward Aleks. The mask hummed in his cloak, desperate for battle, but Aleks did not need it. No, he’d deal with these two on his own. He just had to be sure to leave one alive—because in this game, information was king.

He focused on the gentle thrum of the mask, quieting his mind until all that remained in the world were the two men before him. Then, a feral grin pulling at his lips, he darted forward.

The power behind their blows punctured the air, but Aleks was unaffected. He was drifting snow, carried on the wind’s embrace, swaying between clubs with ease. His hands were swift as a bear plucking salmon from a river, his dagger sharp as sudden fear. He weaved between the two, his knife finding purchase in the smaller man’s bicep and pulling free a scarlet fountain that painted the floor.

The other would find mercy in his fists, the point of Aleks’ knuckle driving into the wrist and forearm that carried his dented cudgel. As it clattered to the ground, Aleks spun between them, his elbow crashing against the smaller man’s jaw as his leg shot out to snap the larger man’s knee.

It was all over in a violent moment, a whirl of motion and viscera that left two bodies on the floor. One cried out in pain, a primal howl that reverberated down the stone hallway. The other collapsed in a heap, eyes shut and falling still.

Aleks released his own breath, falling into the calm that followed battle. Even with the shrill screams echoing in his ear, he felt a weight settle on his shoulders—a weight that had begun with Livi’s birth and grown heavier with each year. He’d spared these two, but interrogation in his line of work rarely ended with everyone still breathing.

He sighed, steadying his nerves. Even if the Court turned out to be the perfect solution, there was little chance Aleks would get through this without taking more lives. Perhaps not these two—Nereden would be dead before long. But Aleks had seen the strength of their faith and knew he’d have to take lives sooner or later. Hesitating would only get him killed.

Jaw clenched, he cleaned his dagger and slipped it back into its sheath. Just a few more. A few more and he could rest. All he had to do was kill this Nereden, and he’d finally have peace.