My hands shake can’t stop shaking. I heard it speak. Me. Hearing the words of Vungajhin itself. This will change everything.

- Uuriintuya, Second Prophet of the Adjha’nai. Dated -47 b.f.

Life in the Shelter soon returned to normal. Zaya helped them to repair the front wall and apart from one stubborn dark spot on the floor where the blood had sunken into the cracks, not much remained of the attack.

Silas spent most of his time either helping Galmor at the hall or trying to rid his Landscape of the Taint. The latter proved rather unfruitful. Without the medicine, the clusters were almost impossible to break. Gnarly especially needed his cure urgently. He was still growing up, and he couldn’t afford to spend so much energy to keep his Inner Landscape from breaking apart.

Ashnur still did the food deliveries with them, but gone was his curious nature. Instead, he was sullen and left as soon as they finished distributing the food. Layla was able to walk again after a fortnight, but only with a crutch. It was unlikely her foot would ever heal properly.

If it weren’t for the heat, Silas might have enjoyed delivering the food. He much preferred the cool climate of Ceraviehl. Cold was something you could fight against. Heat was suffocating. Silas sighed, pulling his Yiksha tighter over his head to block out the scorching sun. He missed the forest. The murky air, the smell of wet earth, the sounds of the wild coming from every nook and cranny. Here, in the desert, it was all bleak. Outside the city, it was all nothing but dead, endless swaths of sand, reaching as far as the eye could see.

He turned to Zaya. “How’s the training going?”

Zaya held up her palm and a few small stones started merging, forming a ball. Her eyes were locked onto the stone as it began to morph, gaining a translucent sheen. Silas stared with wide eyes as the stone slowly transformed into a ball of glass.

“Can make glass now. Much exhausting, but be possible.” Her cheeks were flushed from the effort, and sweat had started to collect on her brows.

“Should be a powerful Art, once you can convert it while fighting.”

Zaya smiled, holding the glass ball between two fingers as she held it up. “Not want use it for fighting, little boy.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Glass be much different thing than stone, you know. Much better at holding energy. Read it in the book. With bit of practice, I can make boomballs with this.”

“But you made little bombs before, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that was with the energy things from ruin. Not have more of them. Need make my own things now. With glass, I can try do something similar.”

Silas gave her a wary glance. “Just don’t practice it when I’m around, alright?”

Zaya waved him off. “No need to be scared. Be much safe.”

“That was exactly what you said last time, and the thing almost exploded in my face.”

“What you mean?” Zaya frowned up at him. “First experiment was much success.”

Silas shook his head. No use in arguing against a wall.

Ashnur led the Karash around a corner and the people hurried out of the way of the large animal. Some of them nodded respectfully to Nurana, who returned their greetings with a smile. She walked up to Ashnur. His gaze was glued to the end of the street, his hand clenching the reins of the Karash.

“Are you alright? I don’t think you said a single word since we left the hall.”

Ashnur took a deep breath. “I went to see my friend. From what he’s gathered, Imira won’t even receive a trial. They’re torturing her in the cells to get information she won’t have,” he forced out. “Seems like things such as laws and rights don’t apply to the Ascended.”

Nurana laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. Imira doesn’t deserve any of this, and neither do you. What now? What are we going to do?”

Ashnur took a step back, giving Nurana a sidelong glance. “We?”

“You’re not alone in this, Ashnur. We might have only met Imira and Layla, but we seek justice just as much as you do.”

“I don’t think you want to get involved. Defending the Shelter from unknown assailants is one thing, but this will be different. This time, we’ll be the ones to take action.”

“About time.” Silas met Ashnur’s eyes. “Whatever it is, you can count on us. We fought a squad of Invokers and came out alive, I think we can handle a few guards who don’t know one end of the spear from the other.”

Ashnur stopped the Karash. He glanced at each of them in turn. “Are you serious? Once we start, there will be no going back. It may be that you will have to go in hiding, or leave the city altogether.”

Silas glanced at Nurana. All they needed was the last dose from Cor’s informant in the tunnels. If this brought them closer to the Ascended, they would be one step closer to healing Gnarly.

“We made our decision long ago,” Nurana said. “We’re with you, no matter what.”

Ashnur’s eyes started to glisten. “Thank you, friends. It means more than you can imagine. With you at our side, we might actually have a chance.”

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“What be plan?” Zaya asked him.

Ashnur’s gaze flickered from side to side in a manner that almost made Silas roll his eyes. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you. It’s mostly the doing of my contact. I’ll ask him if I can fill you in.”

“Of course,” Nurana answered.

Ashnur flicked the Karash on the tail, and the beast resumed its path, its lithe body flowing over the street. Silas looked down, trying not to show the anger on his face. He hated the Empress for forcing them into this web of lies and deception. Ashnur didn’t deserve this. Neither did Layla, nor all the other kids growing up in the Lower District, lured into the Shelter with promises of food and safety.

It hadn’t been that bad at first, when he could still write off Galmor as an old fanatic preaching in the streets. But the attack on the Shelter had changed that. Apart from Aiza and a few others, there were only children there. What would have happened if Silas and the rest hadn’t come at the right time?

Ashnur had joined the Ascended, but he wasn’t a bad person. Neither was Layla. And now, she’d be crippled for the rest of her life. For an Artist, that was as good as a death sentence.

Silas wanted nothing more than to break out of the wedge of scheming forces. The Ascended with their preachings on the one side, and the Empress with her promises for a cure on the other. Having a companion herself, the Empress must know how deep such a bond between Artist and creature could go. She knew how desperate they were. Silas just hated not being able to do anything about it.

***

Silas woke deep in the night to steps coming from the stairway. Reaching into his Inner Landscape, he sent a push of energy into his body to jolt him awake. With little to no wood around, his Magesight showed him next to nothing. Except for the faint sheen of the moon’s light coming through a single rectangular window near the left side of the ceiling, everything was dark.

A tall figure emerged from the staircase, heading straight towards his bed. Silas reached for his spear lying under his bed. The speartip grazed over the stone, the sharp, grating sound disturbing the silence. The figure stopped.

Silas slowly pushed the blanket away and pointed his spear at the unmoving figure. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you, right now.”

“Silas? It’s me, Ashnur.” The figure took a step forward, the faint glow of the night illuminating the tall boy’s face. “Why are you awake, and what are you doing?” he whispered, staring at Silas’ spear.”

“You’re not exactly silent, you know. Is something wrong?”

Ashnur opened his mouth, then stopped as he glanced at the other beds. “Not here. Wake the others and meet me at the sparring patio.”

After waking the others, they met Ashnur standing near the doorway of the patio, nervously glancing into the long hallway of the Shelter. “There you are. I spoke to my friend. He said you may join, but he wants to meet you, first. Tonight.”

This was it. Their chance at meeting a proper member of the Ascended, someone who could connect them to the tunnels. Silas nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

“I’ll lead the way. But be careful. The people walking the Lower District at night aren’t those you want to come across.”

Ashnur opened the backdoor of the patio and stepped outside. The black of the sea greeted their sights. It stretched itself endlessly into the horizon, a smooth blanket of water threatening to swallow everything it touched.

A single ray of bright moonlight shot down from the clear sky, condensing into a circle far out in the sea, illuminating a small part of the expanse with bright light. Not a single ripple disturbed the waters, its surface seeming like glass, ready to break at any given moment. Waiting patiently, the sea wedged itself into the harbor, slowly eroding the stone to claim back what once was hers.

The bare hint of a breeze grazed over Silas’ skin, its whispers heralding a tide of change. The calm before the storm.

They followed Ashnur silently. He weaved through the narrow streets with confidence, only looking back to see they were still following.

“We’re here.” Ashnur stopped before a house with a wheel of stone leaning against its wall. Silas thought it would look different. Maybe a completely run-down hovel, or a rich manor with guards at the doors. Looking around, Silas had trouble distinguishing this house from any other in the Lower District. It was built like any other, a small single-floor, roughly rectangular stone building.

Ashnur gave them one last glance before knocking on the door. It swung open on its own, dim light coming from within.

“Please come in.”

The facade of the building belied its interior. A tall, reedy black figure sat in front of a large, wooden desk with its back turned to them, writing something in a small book. The house was packed. Each wall held multiple shelves with jars, small chests, and books. A single-sized bed stood on the right corner, a nightstand with a Magelight on top of it, the smooth ball of glass radiating faint, steady light. A narrow hallway led deeper into the house, the light dying somewhere midway.

The man’s oily black hair hanging near shoulder length shone in the dim light of the room. Turning around, the man smiled at them and stood up. He had a thin line of facial hair accentuating his jawline with a pointed goatee. The man’s gaze settled on Silas. “Thank you for coming to my humble abode. I’m afraid it’s not meant for visitors, so I’m unable to offer you chairs. My apologies. Close the door, would you, Ashnur?”

Silas was suddenly grateful he’d at least brought his spear with him. The man was an Artist, without a doubt. Something about him reminded him of the figure he’d seen in that shady shop back in Kuzant. The way the light shunned him and the shadows coalesced around his form made him seem like a spectre, even in the small confines of the house. Could he perhaps be the same person? No, that was too unlikely. But Silas couldn’t shake the feeling he’d seen the man before.

Ashnur closed the door. Silas’ eyes flicked to the latch as it clicked shut. In here, his spear wouldn’t be of too much use. He could use the wood around him, though. Silas doubted the man expected anyone in Nu-Taquim to have the Art of Wood.

“Ashnur spoke very highly of all of you,” the man began, his voice smooth and soft. “First of all, thank you for defending the Shelter. The Empress’ attack on it was truly despicable. Now with Imira’s capture, it is our turn to act. She’s being “questioned” in the cells, as they like to put it. She’s unlikely to receive a trial. Not that it would have mattered, really.” The man’s gaze softened as he looked at Ashnur. “I’m sorry, Ashnur.”

Ashnur nodded, his jaw set. “If we can get her out in time, she won’t need a trial.”

The man’s eyes sent Ashnur a warning glance.

“That’s your plan?” Nurana asked him. “To break her out of the royal prison? How?”

The man’s smile slipped. “I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced, yet. I’m Yamut. You must be Nurana.”

“I am. I’m sorry for speaking out, but breaking anyone out of the royal prison is nothing short of suicide.”

“Correct, Nurana. You don’t look from around here, yet you know of our city?” Yamut left the question hanging in the air as he stared at Nurana.

“I spent most of my life in Kuzant, but my mother was Drakhonian. She grew up here.”

“Kuzant, you say?” His gaze wandered towards Silas, and his smile returned. “How peculiar. Either way, we’re not here to chat. According to my knowledge, Imira is still held within the palace’s cells and to be transported to the royal prison within the next few days. Once she is there, she will be gone. Which is why it is all the more important we act decisively.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Silas crossed his arms. “We can’t just barge into the palace and fight our way in.”

“Ts, ts, ts.” Yamut shook his head. “You have very suspicious friends, Ashnur. Are you sure you can trust them?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

Silas gulped. He needed a break from all this lying. It made him feel sick.

“So be it.” Yamut clapped his hands together. “This is how we do it. Tell me, friends,” he said, stressing the word, “what do you know of Nu-Taquim’s history?”