Peter examined his new ring with scholarly interest. Why was it given to him? Why were they handed out to everyone? A gift? Well, yes, but why? The ring was unlike anything he had ever seen. It wasn’t made out of metal like rings usually were. It seemed to be made out of some sort of black glass. It didn’t feel brittle like glass. It felt heavy and solid. The ring’s craftsmanship was extraordinary. Lines and grooves ran along the ring in unfamiliar patterns. They made him think it was made to come apart, but try as he might, he could not make it budge. He would have to take a hammer to it when he got home after the ceremony.

With a sigh, Peter tucked the ring into the breast pocket of his long black coat. He smiled as he pulled the coat tight around him. The black wool garment was a recent gift for his birthday. His mother had been secretly saving for it for quite some time to surprise him. It was actually stylish, even if it was a little too big. It was especially smart when paired with its matching black shoulder cardinal. Few kids could afford them, and honestly, he couldn't either. That just added to the majesty of the garment.

Not only was the coat stylish, but it was warm. Boslic was a cold place, especially considering Chur and Dinn frequently blocked out the sunlight. Peter looked up at the two worlds. They hung like massive green, blue, and earthy platters in the air. The atmostorm continued to crackle on as it always did. Right where the atmospheres of the three worlds collided. Pink and orange fiery clouds rolled in the sky. Fierce stabs of sharp pink lightning flickered within the storm but never found the will to lash down at any of the worlds, above or below. It was beautiful and terrible, although Peter truthfully hadn’t spent too much time appreciating it until the courts came.

“Hey, Kroon!” Jaap called as he approached Peter. As usual, he was flanked by at least three other boys. “Nice coat! I think you left your plume at your mansion.”

Peter fidgeted in surprise, which always happened when he was deep in thought. It was like he forgot he existed until something made him jump.

Jaap’s crew laughed at his comment and turned to Peter expectantly. It wasn’t cruel laughter; it had an expectant and eager tone. Once, Peter’s mother had overheard such banter and called Jaap out for bullying, but Peter had cut in to explain. Jaap wasn’t a bully or even a rival, not really. Jaap was a friend. Their relationship was dynamic and constantly evolving. The truth was that the boys admired each other, but neither would ever admit it. They were both so different.

Jaap was a large, well-off young man with many friends, but he was also kind. Sometimes, Peter felt that Jaap’s strange challenges and contests were out of sympathy because Peter was less social. Still, the twinkle in Jaap’s eye and the continued teasing felt real enough.

Peter pulled off his tight, peaked beldar cap, and sure enough, he had forgotten his plume, but not in some imaginary mansion. He must have left it at his shack of an apartment. How could Peter have forgotten it? He had a reasonably nice, small, fluffy ostrich feather-dyed blue. Absorbed in his thoughts, he must have left it at home.

It was ironic, he realized — such a nice coat and cardinal, and he didn’t even have a plume for his hat. Most of Jaap’s friends wore plumes in their beldar caps. It was Peter’s mistake, but it was minor.

“This is outrageous!” He played along. “I’ll sack the butler!”

That made the other boys chuckle. They all knew he was as poor as any of them, except maybe Jaap. Peter quickly noticed they all wore their new rings, the ones the court had given them as a gift.

Jaap seemed to notice Peter looking at his ring.

“Didn’t you get a ring?” Jaap asked, patting his pockets and protruding a new one.

Peter refused it with a dismissive hand. “I got mine last week, same as you,” he said apologetically. Peter fished a black glass ring out of his pocket and showed the boys.

“Oh?” Jaap said as he pocketed his extra ring. “Why don’t you wear it?”

“Maybe because he’s smarter than anyone else!” Iris said as she limped up to the group of boys. Her blond hair was crammed hurriedly in her beldar cap, allowing several stray locks to poke out randomly. No doubt she had waited until the last minute to get ready.

As always, a ball of guilt, heavy and unyielding, welled in Peter’s stomach at the sight of her stiff left leg. The disability was his fault, a burden he carried with him every day.

The boys snickered as she ran up. Peter blushed. Of course, they were a package deal. The two were inseparable since the accident.

“Are you saying we’re stupid?” Jaap challenged Iris with good humor in his eyes.

As usual, she misread it.

“If you doubt Peter’s judgment, you say it yourself!”

Peter felt his face flush an even deeper red. Iris was a good best friend, but she admired him so … zealously. It was good to have someone who listened intently to his thoughts, but telling her anything was the same as painting them in massive letters on Dinn or Chur above for everyone to see.

“What? You don’t trust the court?” Jaap asked playfully.

“You do?” Iris countered. “A man falls from the sky and gives everyone rings. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you? What if they were weapons? Why does everyone assume he’s a friend?”

Jaap turned to Peter, his smile melting a little. He knew that Iris’ rant would have originated from listening to one of Peter’s hypotheses.

“That’s a little harsh and probably rude, don’t you think? He’s our guest and was kind enough to give all of us gifts. He went with the king to the cemetery this morning to bless our ancestors. Do you think these are the actions of an evil invader?”

Peter threw his hands up defensively and glared at Iris, resenting her emphatic commitment to his ideas. “I don’t think there is foul play! It’s just that things have changed, and I think we should be careful. That is, until we better understand Court Rahashel and his reason for visiting.”

Jaap shook his head. He didn’t like that. “He’s come to gift us with knowledge and advancements. I think you’re being a bit ungrateful.”

Iris stiffened. “And you’re stupid if you think —”

“Iris!” Peter begged as she rushed to his defense. “It’s okay. I just want to watch for a little while before I decide.”

Jaap shrugged. “I guess you can do what you want. We’re going to the welcoming ceremony. You guys coming?”

Peter looked at Iris before answering. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Jaap nodded and trotted ahead with his group.

“That boy is such a hiss pipe!” Iris said as she shook her head in disgust.

“Iris!” Peter pleaded. “He might not be wrong.”

Iris punched Peter in the shoulder, causing him to yelp. “When have you ever been wrong, Peter?”

“Um … literally all the time!” Peter protested as he rubbed his arm.

“Wrong!” Iris corrected. “In all these years we’ve been friends you have never been wrong, and Jaap’s an idiot for doubting you.”

He had been wrong when he opened the gate all those years ago. In his mind he heard the memory of dog snarl as it leaped at him. Why did he let her goad him into doing something so stupid?

“You know, part of learning is more listening and less talking!” Peter growled as they hiked along.

Iris fell silent with a hurt look in her eye.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Peter said, instantly feeling like an idiot.

“You’re right,” she muttered. “I just get so carried away, especially when they doubt you.”

“You know I can take care of myself,” Peter muttered.

“I know,” Iris lamented, “I just wish they really knew you. They would be more respectful.”

The pair continued along the cobblestone road and into Stalpia. The capital of Nosmiria was densely populated, even more so after the arrival of Court Rahashel. Everyone was coming to see, for themselves, the man who fell from the sky. It was rumored he could do impossible things—miracles to rival the Nyamarian High Steward, Bram Gerrets. The House of Nyamar was already quickly losing popularity, and the fact that a stranger could rival their master’s power would only continue to drive people away.

Peter was doing it again, lost in thought and unaware of his surroundings. He looked up as they made their way to the main town square. The buildings were dull in the overcast of the planets above. Built with cobblestone, steeply peaked roofs, dark wood, and shingles, there wasn’t a whole lot of color in Nosmiria. Peter wasn’t well-traveled, so he had little to compare it to. He had always dreamed of traveling, but he never had the chance. Maybe he would when he got older? At least for now, school seemed like the most useful choice.

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The further along they went, the more crowded the streets became. People mostly dressed in dark colors. Cloaks, coats, and hats with plumes of all kinds occupied the road. The two youths squeezed and pushed their way past many adults. Peter hated crowds, but when they were kids Iris could surf them like a pickpocket. Now, she lagged behind like a lead anchor with her still leg.

“Wait up!” Iris cried after him as she tried desperately to follow.

Peter doubled back and waited for her to catch up.

She grabbed him by the hand shuffled ahead, towing Peter on. "Come on, ya snail!" she teased.

“Iris!” he cried in protest again, his face heating. People could clearly see her holding his hand. What if someone they knew saw him? Clearly, she didn’t care.

With her direction, they cut through and made it into the massive square, which was already packed. They hopped up and down on their tiptoes to try and peek over everyone’s shoulders.

“Aww!” Iris whined, “It’ll be impossible to see it from here!”

Peter looked around before making his way to one of the many black iron lamp posts that lined the square. The gas light protruded from a cobblestone base. He hopped onto the small platform and grabbed the post for balance.

Iris hopped off her right leg and dragged herself up next to him, her teeth clenched in exertion. She scrunched her brow to see what was happening across the audience of thousands.

On the steps of the cabinet hall, several figures stood speaking in loud tones lost in the distance to the back of the crowd. The massive clock on the front of the hall showed that they were only fifteen minutes late.

“Can you see?” Iris asked. “I can’t hear anything.”

Peter reached into his inside coat pocket and grabbed his mini spyglass. Pulling it out, he used it to watch.

On the steps, King Adrichem wore a traditional dark coat and a plumed slouch hat with one side pinned up. A gold medallion with a thick scarlet ribbon hung from his neck as an emblem of his station. The king's high, sharp cheekbones and pouty, upturned lips made him appear naturally insolent, but Peter knew King Adrichem to be a caring and respectable monarch. Across from him was Court Rahashel.

Peter watched the court intently. The man who fell from the sky was big, deep-chested, and had bronze skin. Somehow, he endured the cold bare-chested, wearing only a black girdle and skirt that hung from his waist down to his ankles. An impressive gold belt rested around it loosely. He had a goatee and a headdress covering any hair he might have had. His eyes were so sharp and defined, like … he was wearing dark eyeliner?

“Makeup?” Peter muttered in surprise.

“What?” Iris yelped. “Let me see!”

Peter shook her off. “You’ll get your turn!”

He looked again. King Adrichem and Court Rahashel were talking to each other, but Peter wanted to see Court Rahashel’s cabinet. On the king's side were mayors and guards from the surrounding cities. Peter didn’t spare them a second glance. Panning over with the spyglass, Peter saw them behind Court Rahashel on the steps.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Built much like Court Rahashel himself, the members of Rahashel’s cabinet had animal heads. A man with a falcon head, a man with the head of a jackal, one like a crocodile … How was that possible? Were they an alien race? Were they wearing masks with frightening amounts of detail? Men with animal heads —now he had seen it all.

The two leaders finished talking, and Court Rahashel turned to the assembly.

“Thank you all for your kind welcome to your humble state of Nosmiria!” His voice boomed across the way as though amplified.

“How does he do that?” Iris asked in awe.

“I expected hostility and coldness from this world as I have found in other worlds! But for your kindness to me and my people, I have yet another gift for you! I will share all I know with you. You will be blessed with wealth, prosperity, and power!”

Peter sighted on Court Rahashel to get a better look. The court stood confident and imposing. Now that he had turned, Peter saw a metal armband on his upper arm. It seemed to glow with violet light.

“And to you, great king!” Court Rahashel turned to King Adrichem, who smiled proudly at the praise. “You can be the first to move these worlds to the next age.“

So casually that Peter almost missed it, Court Rahashel put his hand on King Adrichem’s face, and a bright purple light flared to life.

King Adrichem cried and fell back, but the luminescent vapor flowed from his face and into Court Rahashel’s hand. Then the king screamed.

Peter watched in horror as the king aged into a withered old man in seconds. The light flowed from him like the years were siphoned right into Court Rahashel’s open palm.

The king dropped to the ground as not much more than skin and bones, and Court Rahashel turned to face the people. Everyone watched in stunned silence, most still trying to register what had just happened.

“Hail to your new king and God!” Court Rahashel said before the first screams found air.

The guards found themselves and leaped into action, pulling the mayors and magistrates off the stage. Several leveled rifles at Court Rahashel.

The shriek of gas gunfire split the air as they shot the court at point-blank range. Court Rahashel looked at them in amusement, completely unaffected, but his followers screamed in rage.

The man with the jackal's head leaped at them with two short swords, and with a flourish of spins and hacks, he felled eight men in less than three seconds.

Peter forced his trembling legs to clamber down the lamppost base as people screamed and ran. He jerked at Iris, his hands clammy.

“What happened?” Iris demanded.

“He killed the king!” Peter shouted.

“What?” Iris cried. “Where’s Tess?”

“Ma’s back home!” Peter hollered over the chaos of the surging crowd. “Let’s get out of here!”

They turned and joined the now free-flowing current out of the city. Screams followed them from all around. Peter saw a woman stop and frantically claw at her hand. It didn’t take more than a heartbeat for Peter to realize she was trying to pull off a black glass ring.

“Peter!” Iris cried, limping from behind. She pulled her ring from her pocket and threw it into the gutter.

Peter fumbled his ring from his coat pocket, and it returned hot. Sparing only a glance, he noticed that it had changed. From all around the inside, pointed needles stuck inward and would have bit into his finger if he had it on.

Shuddering, Peter threw the ring to the ground. He noticed that almost everyone around was crying and struggling to get them off. Those few less trusting of the newcomer continued to flee outward, undeterred by the rings.

“Let’s go, Peter!” Iris cried. “We need to get Tess!”

They ran past the people with the rings on. The screaming started to die down as those with the rings stood up with glazed-over eyes as if in a trance. Peter whimpered as he ran past the people he grew up with. Their eyes, devoid of intelligent light, made Peter whimper.

Peter scanned those they passed, praying that his mother hadn’t put the ring back on, after he explained to her why he wasn’t wearing his. He abruptly grabbed Iris by the wrist, stopping her from shambling ahead.

“What?” she demanded wide-eyed, a renegade lock of golden hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.

With a shaky hand, he pointed ahead.

Those fleeing had stopped and started to back up as if corralled. Dozens of skulls, with eyes that burned with purple fire, faced them.

Peter blinked several times.

His eyes didn’t deceive him: these were animated skeletons that clicked and rattled with each motion, marching the fleeing people back up the city streets. A few men tried to fight back, throwing anything they could find off of the street. The bone men continued to march, lashing out with bony fingers at anyone who tried to resist.

“Peter!”

Peter felt relief flood through him as he heard his mother’s voice. She ran to them from a side shop, forgetting her coat inside. She held a paring knife as she motioned them over to her.

They ran to her as more people ran down the road, but they were stopped by a growing crowd of people who had run into the living dead.

“This way!” his mother turned to lead them down a side passage, but the rattle of bones announced several more marching their way from up the alley. They were surrounded.

“Stop!” a powerful voice boomed, and the bone men halted.

The non-ring wearers who weren’t entranced turned to greet their savior, but to their dismay, they saw the man with a jackal's head. His exposed chest rippled with muscular power. He walked up to those who tried to flee, and the glassy-eyed people who wore rings stepped out of his way.

“You all are essential to your new God. Comply with Court Rahashel’s plan or you will die.”

No one dared raise their voice. Some searched for a way out. Skeletons poised for action behind, and the jackal man was in front; there was no escape. Some people slipped into buildings, hoping to go unnoticed. Peter didn’t feel that their evasion would last.

“I am Anubis — the elder lich for your new god!” the jackal-headed man said. “You will each be given a new ring, and you will wear them.”

“Please!” Peter’s mother stepped forward. “You can do whatever you want to me. I’ll cooperate. Just let the children go!”

Anubis turned to her, his eyes now burning with purple light. He stepped toward Peter and Iris, and Tess interposed herself between them, holding the knife low.

“Your children are the most valuable crop,” Anubis said through jackals’ teeth. “Of course we won’t let them go.”

With a flick of his hand, a purple light lanced out of Peter’s mother and siphoned into his palm. The light emitted a sound like a chorus of a thousand gasping souls, making Peter’s skin writhe.

Peter instantly went numb — the way he might when really deep in thought or thinking of nothing at all. His mother lay before him with dead eyes. She looked older than his grandmother.

A scream erupted from next to him, jolting him into awareness. Iris snarled as she scooped up the paring knife Peter’s mother had dropped and lunged clumsily at Anubis.

A pair of bony hands grabbed her and jerked her back as a bone warrior rushed to restrain her with surprising speed.

“Get your gas blasted hands off of me, you retchgasket!”

Peter looked down at his mother again, feeling so numb he barely noticed the bone arms that wrapped around him and pulled him away.

“Our first volunteer,” Anubis said as he held out his hand. With a small flash of purple fire, a new glassy ring materialized in his palm. He took a step towards Iris.

Not again! Peter watched the canine-esque beast approach Iris.

Eleven-year-old Peter sobbed as the dog lunged at the gate. Its foaming snout snapped, flashing long fangs.

The animated corpses that held Iris forced her hand up and splayed her fingers.

The dog tore at his blue coat, and Peter screamed.

The man with a Jackal’s head pinched the glass ring between thumb and forefinger and grabbed Iris’ hand.

The dog yelped as a rock struck it. It abandoned its trapped quarry and spun on Iris. Iris stared wide-eyed and stepped back. Why did he open the gate?

Seeing the thing touch his best friend, Peter finally seemed to find himself. He wouldn’t watch this time like he did before. “No!” he cried. “Me first! Let her be!”

Anubis looked at him and shrugged. “A willing volunteer?”

What was he doing? Was he trying to be heroic? It didn’t matter who went first; they would all be forced to put them on.

“No! Peter!” Iris screamed.

Even if it didn’t make a difference, Peter owed her a debt he could never pay. Peter held his hand out for Anubis and turned to smile at Iris. It was a shallow smile that didn’t reach his empty eyes. Anubis slipped the ring over Peter’s finger, and it clamped down tight, shifting to fit.

“I’m sorry, Iris —”

Spikes spat out and bit into his finger with surprisingly real pain, and he whimpered, trying his best not to cry.

“Peter!” Iris screamed, “Pe-ter!” The last portion of his name sounded like it was coming from underwater as his mind drifted to a less cognitive place. Without a chance to fight, resist, or even mourn, Peter was among Court Rahashel’s first crops.