They flew over a rippling ocean.

Sea, ocean, enormous lake…it didn’t really matter what it was. They flew over the only open large body of water on the planet, and they headed toward the shore. Buildings completely obscured the land ahead, and there was no beach—only debris and garbage rising up and down with the waves. Ramshackle wood and stone buildings climbed up the sides of piers as far as he could see. Behind the heaps, marble towers rose sharply out of the water, glimmering with electric light.

The Luna Wrath lurched. Kinfild pulled the control yoke to the side, guiding them out of their current lane of air-traffic. They shifted northeast, then slipped into a different lane. Most of the other vessels looked like they could fall out of the sky at any moment, and none of them respected the marked-out lanes of hovering buoys.

“I grew up in this city,” Kinfild said. “The Koedor-Terginian Empire wasn’t always like this.”

“You used to live here?” Lessa exclaimed.

“I did.” Then, as if to prove it, Kinfild pointed down into the twisting streets and shaded depths that raced past below. “Do you see that holosign? The building beside it is a wonderful pub where cargo-spacers drink, and the tower encased in blue vines beside it is a hub for bounty hunters and smugglers.”

Kinfild kept their altitude low as they flew over the shore, but he nudged the vessel upward to keep above the towers. As the buildings grew taller, they became steadily cleaner and better-maintained. Most were made of ornate marble—decorative pillars, gargoyles, and many, many windows. Some even boasted balconies and open rooftops filled with partygoers.

“It’s the Changing of the Seasons,” Kinfild explained, “hence the celebrations. These skytowers here are home to some Koedor-Terginia’s most powerful people—politically, though, not necessarily in the arcane arts.”

A large cluster of skytowers stood right in front of them. Bridges and walkways tied them together, and holographic flags hung off their walls—tricolour flags with a stripe of red, white, and yellow.

“And that, what you’re staring at,” Kinfild said, “is the Roteac Academy of Arcane Mastery.”

The Luna Wrath broke away from the land of traffic and sped up. The ground blurred beneath them.

There were nearly twenty towers at the academy. Most of them had rusted copper domes, but a few had sloping, shingled roofs. Only one, a wedge-shaped building, had a flat rooftop garden. It was filled—no, packed—with partygoers in elaborate outfits. Aliens, humans, and many creatures in-between all mingled about.

A combination of concrete wind-baffles and a small dome of glimmering energy protected the garden from wind. It rippled with an interlocking hexagon texture whenever the wind washed over it.

“That’s…an arcane technique?” Jace asked.

“In a way,” Kinfild replied. “It’s shield-aspect Aes—a subset of fire and plasma. A Wielder fills an Aes cell, and a machine deploys a technique card continuously.”

“Now…plasma rifles don’t have technique cards, do they?” Jace asked.

“Plasma bullets are miniature Aes cell; the casings contain plasma-aspect Aes. But it’s unstable, and the triggering method is much simpler—just hit it with a firing pin hard enough, and it’ll explode. Your hyperspace-aspect Aes is similar, in a way. It’s quite unstable, making it powerful but unpredictable..”

“If hyperspace Paths are illegal, then how do you charge a hypercore?” Jace asked.

“Hyperspace Wielders have always been rare, making hypercores a necessity. Hypercores form naturally in nebulae—in areas where the Split and light-aspect Aes is the densest. Pump them full with pure-aspect Aes and use a technique card, like you’ve been doing, and they’ll do their job.”

“What happens now that I’ve been cycling?” Jace cast his attention inwards, focussing on the hypercore and his Aes around it. It had been taking on a hyperspace aspect just from being around the hypercore.

“Usually, starships vent their excess hyperspace Aes after a hyperjump,” Kinfild explained. “No sense in dealing with volatile Aes that we don’t really understand.”

“But I can use it to fuel unique techniques,” Jace said.

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“And we might be able to tamper with your current card,” Lessa said. “My engraving needles should work on a card, too.” She patted her cumberbund—she must have tucked them in there. “We can make it work with hyperspace-aspect Aes, so you go further and faster. But only once you have a reliable intake of hyperspace Aes.”

Right now, Jace was still using pure Aes with a slight hyperspace-aspect bend to it. The more he cycled, the more he converted, but it’d take a while, and taking in new pure Aes was constantly watering down the old.

But a tingle of excitement rolled through him at the prospect of new techniques. Something of his own making, suited perfectly for him—no hand-me-downs from an older brother.

No more doing what the family had done for generations before.

Kinfild pulled back on the Luna Wrath’s control yoke, slowing them as they approached the Academy’s nearest tower. Landing pads jutted out from the side, unprotected by the shield.

The Luna Wrath descended to the closest empty pad and settled down with a thud. The three of them unbuckled their harnesses. Kinfild flicked a lever, and the boarding ramp lowered, washing the cabin with polluted air. “We should be on our way, before anyone gets suspicious. Be careful. If they did try to assassinate Elder Stenol, we may be putting ourselves at incredible risk just by coming here.”

Jace gulped. He couldn’t purge the quest from his mind: Kill Elder Stenol.

Something told him that Stenol hadn’t been the target of the assassination.

“And…our weapons? Jace asked. He laid a hand on the hilt of the Whistling Blade, then patted his backpack. A moment later, he glanced at the rifle Lessa carried on her shoulder.

Kinfild ran his fingers through his beard. “The rifle should stay behind, but your sword won’t be a problem. Many people here will carry ceremonial sabers, and unless they looke closely, they won’t notice a difference.”

Jace nodded, then placed one foot onto the boarding ramp. He was about to walk down to the landing platform, but a man in a blue uniform ran across the landing pad to the starship.

The man held his kepi hat tight to his head, and when he arrived at the base of the starship’s boarding ramp, he pulled on the tails of his frock coat to straighten it out.

“Good evening!” the man called. “If you are here for the Autumn Gala, please depart from your starship and have your onboard kyborg return the starship to the main campus landing center. We are still expecting guests, and they will need room to land.” He paused for a moment, then added, “If you do not have an onboard kyborg, a valet kyborg can be provided for you.”

“We have one, thank you,” Kinfild said. He looked back into the ship and called, “Aur-Six? Do you have enough heat in the furnace to get the Wrath back to the Roteac spaceport?”

The kyborg’s head poked out from the engine room. He chittered for a moment.

“Good, good,” Kinfild replied to Aur-Six. “Keep the furnace hot. We’ll meet you at the spaceport when we’re done.”

“We have other landing platforms on campus if you wish,” the greeter said. “They will be provided without charge, and—”

“Forgive me, but I’d prefer that my starship is parked closer to my residence,” Kinfild said.

Jace narrowed his eyes. The only reason to send a starship away was if he was worried about someone stealing or destroying it. He glanced at Lessa and whispered, “This is going to get messy. I can feel it.”

“It’s gonna be so cool…” she whispered.

“Very good, sir.” The man stepped aside, then motioned towards the thin walkway between the landing pad and the tower. Please enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you,” Kinfild said. He held his staff like a walking stick again, and he tipped his tophat towards the man. Lessa chased after him, and Jace figured he’d better do the same. As soon as they had stepped down onto the landing platform, the ramp began to close behind them. The Luna Wrath lifted off shakily and abruptly—just as Jace had imagined a kyborg would drive a starship. In other words, not well.

“Come along,” Kinfild said. “We don’t have all night.”

They stepped onto a thin walkway between the pad and the main tower. The entire structure swayed in the wind, and his stomach lurched. On the opposite side, an angular metal archway marked the entrance into the energy shield and the rooftop garden beyond, but a pair of Koedor-Terginian soldiers stood guard at the entrance—both rated around level seven, according to the tags. Their armour was nearly identical to the ones the Jace had fought at the Hanging House, but these soldiers had helmets with holographic horsetail plumes.

The guards stared at Jace, Kinfild, and Lessa as they walked past, but they made no comment.

“Stenol must be quite the professor if he’s able to throw a party like this…” Lessa whispered as they walked through the metal archway.

Once Jace had passed through to the inside of the shield building, he took a moment to admire the garden. Exotic flowers filled teardrop-shaped patches of mud, which nestled together to make a colourful spiral in the center of the tower. At the center of the display was a fountain, rimmed with chrome statues and topiaries. It may have been autumn in the outside world, but in this oasis of green, the seasons of Roteac held no bearing. The air was humid and warm, and already, a droplet of moisture condensed on the tip of Jace’s nose.

Jace began to fidget with his fingers. He didn’t belong here either—as a worldjumper or a partygoer.

“Stenol is one of the most respected professors in the galaxy,” Kinfild said. “And he was one of the founding patriarchs of the Crimson Table, even if he is now retired.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jace whispered. He needed to know whether the quest was accurate. Ten units of Aes had given him a significant chunk of advancement progress, and a hundred and fifty was nothing to scoff at. “Let’s find him.”