Lamplight glittered across the snake-man’s scales, giving Sesuuk of the Third Trine a silvery radiance that flashed and dimmed. He passed between shadow and light as he moved, sinuous and quick despite his many, many long years.

The Lamakai Prophet, leader of the outcast trine of the snake-men, moved quickly and furtively as his taloned feet clicked on the stones of the winding steps. He passed under guttering torchlight, each one bursting into flame with a gesture of his clawed fingers.

Sesuuk was trying to be quiet, for he knew that even here, deep in the Lamakai Quarter of the refugee city of Blackwood, there were going to be spies. He had spent three painstaking months constructing this place in the heart of his people’s space and would not have his effort revealed so easily.

The spies would be sent not just by the human/Tierran leaders of this place—always busying themselves with such ridiculous notions like Freedom! Democracy! Justice!—but also by the other, elder realms.

The recently assimilated mortals of the New Zone still had so much to learn of the games of Celestial Ascension and the tyranny of the engines created by the Asai. Sesuuk scoffed to himself as his steps took him further down.

There was no fairness to the Celestial Engines. There was no peace. No justice. There was only power. The ascension itself. The eternal progress that meant you drew power into your soul with every monster you killed, every enemy you defeated, every realm you conquered…

“But they will learn…one day,” Sesuuk hissed to himself.

He turned the corner to see the stout wooden door that he had placed himself, dragging it down with his own hands and setting the bolts and working the mortar until it fit perfectly. The Level 27 Prophet certainly had enough servants and followers amongst the Lamakai to do such tasks for him, but he dared not trust any with this task.

If word got out amongst Blackwood of what he had down here, of what he had built…

Sesuuk paused before the door and chuckled with a voice that sounded more like the rasp of a sword coming out of a scabbard.

If word got out, Laurie Marr, so-called Mayor of Blackwood, would come for him. So would Goreth Fell-axe, Blackwood’s Guard Captain.

But they were no match for him and he would cut them both down. They wouldn’t be a true threat until they were much stronger.

No, what Sesuuk was actually worried about was the Knight-Defender and Founder of Blackwood. The one who held the Hearthstone, the inner power of this growing, rebellious realm.

Finn Callahan. The human who had, against all odds, survived his first year and become a Defender on the path toward ascension.

If Sesuuk hadn’t found and convinced Finn to accept him as a mentor and patron, Sesuuk was certain they would be on very different sides of the celestial war by now.

He didn’t question the whims of fate. Their partnership would either benefit him . . . or it wouldn’t, and he would deal with it when the time came.

It matters not right now. Sesuuk shook his smooth, scaled head as his eyes glittered in the torchlight. He had much more urgent matters to attend to. The large ruby amulet in his hand, encased with gold clasps, was throbbing with pulses of warmth.

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Someone was calling him. The last time he had a signal like this, from that place, he’d almost destroyed an entire realm.

Sesuuk raised his long-fingered hand and spoke briefly in a language that few understood. This door was guarded by no mere locks, and there was a flare of red energy around it before it swung silently open.

“Who dares summon me, Prophet Sesuuk!?” he hissed as he strode into a small stone room, entirely dominated by what appeared to be a circular well.

This well, however, did not draw water.

Instead, above it hung a whirl of dark crimson and purple energy, shifting and smoky. Occasionally the eldritch flurries would part and reveal what appeared to be facets of a crystal—a large, deep purple crystal…

“Sesuuk!” A voice wavered from the depths of the crystal, and the energies rolled and crashed against itself before converging once again into the hazy form of a head, neck, and shoulders.

Another Lamakai. Another snake-person. This one with the same pronounced brow ridges as Sesuuk but nowhere near as horned or ornate.

“Servant Keskul! What a disappointment.” Sesuuk sneered the name of his fellow Lamakai with all the scorn he could mutter.

“Prophet now, Sesuuk. I am Leader of the Second—” Keskul began, his tone showing a flash of annoyance, before Sesuuk cut him off.

“Oh, they will promote anyone these days, won’t they? Tell me, how is dear father? Do you see him often?” Sesuuk hissed, again not waiting for a response as he held up the burning medallion in his hand. “What is the meaning of this? Do you think that you can summon me whenever Father has one of his rages? One of his insane schemes? Do you really have so little courage yourself to do what I did!?”

“What you attempted, brother Sesuuk,” the flame-made form of the face screwed up in anger and hurt. “And no, I am not as foolish as you—”

“But you called me for a reason! You call me because you know I am free! I and the Third Trine had left your life of servitude behind! My Lamakai serve only me now!” Sesuuk said defiantly, twirling the medallion in the air like he was about to let it fall to the floor. “I should break this now for your impudence, for being bothered by one such as you, but I always had a soft spot for my youngest brother Keskul. You appeared perhaps even intelligent. Perhaps the time has come to finally let the family go—” Sesuuk said calmly, quickly, and with absolute authority. Gone were the airs and graces that he used when talking to any others. This was the way that Lamakai spoke to each other, dominated each other, and ascended.

“Brother! Hear me out!” Keskul, although still angry, had a note of urgency in his voice. Almost of fear.

Interesting, Sesuuk thought. If things were bad enough back there that he dared open the secret portal, they must be very bad indeed. No Lamakai would normally dare beg for…help.

“Speak quickly, Keskul. My patience is running thin,” Sesuuk snapped.

There was a flicker of hesitation from the image as it broke apart and reformed once again. When it did, the face of his brother looked very grave.

“You must know what this is about, brother. It is the prism. It has cracked. Qlippothic energy is being released, and I fear the time has come! All of us will be in danger, not just this realm but all of them. We need you to come back! We need your help!” Keskul hissed.

Sesuuk didn’t move. He didn’t betray any of the emotions that rippled through him.

“And does Father beg for my aid, too? Do you speak to me as his servant?” Sesuuk asked.

There was a quiver of hesitation from the other end of the flaming portal, and that hesitation sealed Sesuuk’s decision. Keskul was ashamed. Their father, the Prophet of the First Trine, had not sanctioned this. He would never have anything but contempt for his eldest son Sesuuk.

“No, but… Father is stuck in his ways. He just doesn’t understand yet—” Keskul began.

“Then Father and all of you are still fools!” Sesuuk snapped. “You will learn the error of your ways when the Lamakai Realm is burning, and your temples are ash and bones!”

Sesuuk smashed the medallion against the stone floor. In an instant, the lurid crimson-and-purple face of his brother disintegrated, leaving the swirling arcane powers behind.

The portal lived, but there was no way that anyone from that elder realm could ever contact them again.

Prophet Sesuuk admired the shattered gemstone and laughed.