Rio had said he wanted to wait in Riven’s apartment, but they hadn’t stayed there for long. A quick tour of the rooms, and they were out again. Riven’s anxiety at the state of his home had been unfounded, the impending embarrassment failing to materialize. Father’s workers had patched it up quite nicely.

They were strolling through Providence city’s thoroughfares now. People were out in force after the day’s labour, and clogging the streets as they returned to their homes. Most of the roads were kept clear for passing cars and the occasional horse-drawn carriage, and Riven was squeezed into a forest of dark coats and hats, occasionally whacked by a stray cane or umbrella, and rarely stepped on by a shiny boot or two. Everyone looked to be minding their own business, but he kept one hand in his pocket on the crystal, and the other gripping the Sept gun. Better safe than sorry.

The Sept crystal was the last thing he was allowed to lose.

Rio was languid as ever. He flowed between the masses like a heated knife through butter, aerodynamic in the stream of citizens like a ghost passing straight through. It was all Riven could do to keep up.

Without warning, Rio dived into a small tea shop. Riven squeezed in behind him before the door closed on his face. He took a seat as Rio ordered tea.

“Haven’t we wasted enough time already?” Riven asked as Rio took the seat opposite.

Rio began counting off fingers. “We’ve seen a tailor’s, a jewellery shop, and a blacksmith. The highlights of Providence Demesne. And we still have more time to kill.”

“Only a few hours,” Riven pointed out.

“All right fine. Do you want my opinion on everything?”

Riven had told Rio about the refinery and the attack at his apartment. He’d listened intently, but had withheld any comments. “No. Just the crystal. What in the Chasm is it, and how did it turn a Spectre into a Phantom?”

“You expect me to know?”

“You’re the one who’s been telling me to keep quiet about it.”

“Look.” Rio looked around to make sure no one was close. His pale eyes twinkled when he turned his gaze back to Riven. “The demon talked to me. It said something about the Sundering. I didn’t understand then, but I decided to find out more. And I did try, but none of my regular channels have yielded anything yet.”

Rio had been about to say more, but the server came bearing a tray with two steaming teacups. “Your drinks, sirs. Enjoy your date.”

Riven and Rio both stared at the server, who wilted under their gaze and backtracked away faster than he’d come in, tea tray held in front of him like a shield.

The shop was a charming little thing. Its walls were a paste green line with gold flecks, and the room was strewn with several small tables each with four chairs surrounding them. Faint whiffs of tea and other unidentifiable delicacies wafted in every now and then. There weren’t many customers, and they likely saw most business in the middle of the day rather than during its end, but that was for the better. Easy to get away with a private conversation.

“Anyway,” Rio said, leaning forward a little, the steam masking his face in layer of grey. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I intend to find that demon near the Sundering Pit. And when I do, I’m going to question it first to figure out what’s going on with the crystal, what your Phantoms and Necromancer said, and all that.”

Riven took a sip of the tea. It scaled his tongue a little, but at least the cup hid his deflated expression. He had expected some important information, but Rio had more assurances than answers. He took a longer sip, and the stinging heat seared across his whole tongue. A good reminder not to let his expectations run away from him. Wasn’t Father warning a similar thing, with his talk of death? Maybe Riven was expecting too much, thinking he could figure out what trained Essentiers had been unable to.

“Excited for tonight?” Rio asked, his pale eyes the only thing visible over the teacup.

“Yes,” Riven replied. His mind travelled back to the encounters with Mhell. How would a Deadmage differ from a lowly necromancer? The Phantoms had been much more powerful than Spectres. “How strong are Deadmages?”

“Hmm. They control elements of the world. Wind, earth, metal, ice, fire, and so on. They can catch you by surprise if you aren’t prepared and paying attention.”

“Well, if they are anything like Phantoms, Viriya won’t be able to do it alone.”

“Really?” Rio had an appraising look like he was seeing Riven in a new light. “Aren’t you making a big assumption?”

Riven frowned. Would Viriya have beaten the Phantoms if he hadn’t been there to distract them? “Was that Prodigy of Providence an actual title?”

Rio laughed. “It is, at least in Essentier circles. I’m not surprised the Invigilator hasn’t brought in more senior Essentiers yet. Rorink has a reputation for efficiency. You might be judging her a little too harshly. Did your date go wrong?”

“Date?” Riven felt the flush creeping up his neck on the tea and decided not to think on it too much. “I admit she’s strong. But, I don’t know, the Phantoms were ridiculous in their own right.”

“All the Deathless are. That’s how it works around here.” Rio put down his empty cup. “How are you liking the city? Your home? You know, aside from all the crap.”

“It’s been good, I think. Things were a little easier back home in Norreston, and I had Mother to see to there as well, but I’m enjoying the independence.”

It was freeing. If Riven was honest, he’d admit that no set wake up times, making his own food however and whenever he wanted, and basically living all on his own, were all a great taste of real adulthood. Maybe he was still shy of the official cusp on his eighteenth birthday, but he was responsible for himself now. His wellbeing, his time, his effort—all of it was his responsibility. There was no one for him to look after, and that gave him an unprecedented freedom, though Mother’s condition was a constant worry.

And there was no one to look after him too.

“What about you?” Riven asked. “How’d you get to be an Essentier?”

“I was born and raised in Severance Frontier. Poor ma and pa passed away when I was tiny though, and I was shipped off to an orphanage. I had my Defining Act at my boarding school at thirteen, and the High Invigilator took a personal interest. And here I am, four years later.” The gem on Rio’s nose stud twinkled, but his smile wasn’t bright this time. Just a sad, lonely thing.

“I used to be at a boarding school too. Before Mother got sick, that is.”

They lapsed into a mixture of companionable silence and idle conversation after that, whiling the time away until dusk reconquered the world. Rio had confirmed Riven’s suspicion that the Deadmage would only be active after nightfall.

“It’s time,” Rio said, paying the cashier with hard notes.

“Right.” Riven led the way outside, where the Sept in the streetlamps were starting to flicker on. He’d have to as how that worked one day. “Let’s go get ourselves a Deadmage.”

#

They found Viriya exactly where Riven had said they’d find her. Haunting the Sept refinery. Riven had to show his ID to the lone guard at the gate, and he politely pointed to where Viriya was looming in place of all the ghosts they had scared away last night.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked when they met her in the main workshop. It was still ruined, though there was obvious evidence people had come in and cleaned things up. The boxes were shoved against the walls, the broken assembly lines were gone, and the pipes and other debris cleared away.

“What are you doing here?” Riven asked. “The Deadmage isn’t coming here, you know.”

“I still don’t trust your Necromancer, Riven.”

“I don’t either in all honesty, but do you have a legitimate clue where he might be?”

Viriya’s face twisted in distaste. “And how are you going to call your Deathless friend?”

Rio had abandoned the two of them and was wondering around the workshop, peering at the damage. Maybe it was professional interest.

Riven hadn’t taken his hand out of his pocket. He turned and looked around, gripping the hidden Sept crystal tighter. The place was abandoned in its entirety, and there wasn’t a single sign of Mhell, no indication that she was anywhere near. But maybe Necromances didn’t have to be close to be called. At least, that was what Riven banked on.

“Mhell,” Riven said. “Hey, Mhell. Can you hear me? I think I need your help.” It was exceedingly stupid talking to think air like some lunatic, but it wasn’t like he knew what he was doing. “I agree to make a deal with you, if you will lead us to the Deadmage.”

There was no response. Viriya quirked up one eyebrow, and Riven did his best to ignore it. Rio wasn’t paying attention to proceedings altogether, inspecting a spot where an assembly line should have been standing. The longer it took, the more stupid the whole thing seemed. Really, Riven had expected a random call from nowhere to summon a Deathless? What was Mhell, his minion?

A laugh dropped in from above, an avalanche of icicles crashing on the back of Riven’s neck. They all stared up, even Rio. Mhell was descending from the ceiling, artfully poised like a ballet dancer wearing wings. Her haloing hair only added to her divine impression.

“What took you so long?” she asked, her lilac dress dancing in an invisible breeze. “I’d started to think you’d forgotten me.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Can you lead us to the Deadmage or not?”

“Business, business.” She tutted. “I’m not sure your friends are thrilled at the prospect though. They seem a tad unenthused.”

Riven tried to see what she meant, and he had to agree. Viriya’s eyes were screwed in open distrust, and Rio was little better. His eyes had gone wide like he’d never seen a Necromancer before, and Mhell was a vision straight from paradise.

Ignoring them, Riven turned back to Mhell. “Doesn’t matter. Where’s the Deadmage?”

“Remember our deal, my dear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I will lead you there, though I suggest you all do your best to follow me as fast as you can. It is late already, and he ahs already gathered most of his main followers.”

Mhell led the way out, and Riven followed. He didn’t look back to check on the others. It wasn’t like they had other options, so they’d come along eventually. They went through the back of the refinery, and Riven had to wait until Viriya came in broke the lock with her Essence. Mhell led them over a stream, through several back alleyways that were all deserted, until they were nearing a domed structure.

The Haven of Providence Demesne.

It was mostly trees here on the outskirts of the city, dark Coral branches spiking and looping overheard to form an impenetrable roof. Mist was thick and ripe all over, turning the trunks to shadowy columns. Riven was careful not to step on any thorngrass, or make any other sound. Though his thumping heart would surely give him away. They were nearing the Deadmage. He felt it in his very bones, the first hints of a frightful shiver trying to reach out to the tips of his hair.

Mhell pause at the top of a hillock, and pointed beyond. “Your destination, my dear.”

They joined her at the top, and Riven gawked. So late. They had come so late.

A graveyard stretched out from the base of the cliff, an army of tombstones marching off into the mist in every direction, the Haven looming like a tyrannical overlord. The fog had disappeared from the centre. In its place, the Deadmage had taken residence in the very middle, surrounded by innumerable Spectres. A light glowed above the Deathless’ head, a soft and feeble ball of fire that glowed but illuminated nothing.

“Tonight is the night, my followers,” the Deadmage intoned. Like Mhell, his voice had an ethereal quality. It came from the air and the ground, seeping into skin and flesh to travel up the bones and materializing right inside the head. Riven didn’t hear it so much as experience through his whole being, making his hair stand up straight and his every muscle tauten even more. “Tonight is the night we will all ascend, and we will finally, finally, find ourselves at the side of the great Scions. We will partake of their secrets, drink from their everlasting stream, eat from their eternal boughs, and we will learn the truth of the making and breaking of this world. We will see and know our parts in the Sundering to come.”

The Spectres cheered. Their combined roar rumbled through the mise and echoed over the entire Coral forest. Riven went cold, his very soul freezing in its spot. How many Spectres were there, hidden in the foggy gloom of night? And they all seemed much more enthusiastic than when with the Phantom back in the refinery.

Once their cheers calmed down, the Deadmage continued with his speech.

“I wish you luck,” Mhell said. “And I wish you live to see our bargain through.”

She whisked back into the mist the way they had come. Riven stared for an incredulous few seconds. She was abandoning them just when they might need her most, if not for actual help, then some information and guidance. He called out as loud as he dared, which wasn’t much, and was about to head out after her when Viriya pulled him back.

“Don’t go running off now,” she said. “You’ll end up straight in their midst.”

Riven swallowed. She was probably right in a way. He’d get lost, and his luck of course would have him march straight into the congregation of the Deathless. Maybe if he cheered hard enough, they wouldn’t notice one of them was actually still living.

“So what’s the plan?” Rio asked. He’d buttoned up his jacket, though that was unlikely to help with any shovers. At least, it wasn’t helping with Riven’s.

“You keep Riven safe,” Viriya said. “While I take care of this mess.”

“That’s not much of a plan.”

“I don’t think we need a grand stratagem involving the greatest minds Severance Frontier has to offer.”

Rio smiled. “Look Riven, we’re two of the greatest minds here. Which is actually sad and scary if you think about it.”

Viriya visibly bit back a response, then headed downslope. Rio took a seat on the damp ground, lazing back as though he was about to watch a particularly dramatic play.

“Join me!” he said. “Now you’re going to see what I meant about the Prodigy of Providence.”

Riven was too tense, but he plopped his arse down. His muscles didn’t relax, and he was taut all over, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. Rio wasn’t wrong. Riven had seen Viriya in action too many times to really doubt her, but he couldn’t shake off the edged and jagged feeling that it wouldn’t be so simple.

Viriya made no secret of her approach. Her star went up before she was halfway close to the Deadmage, the green glow shading everything as though Riven was seeing it all through an emerald prism. Every Deathless froze and turned to face her, the Spectres materializing from the mist to surround her in a large semicircle, leaving a small gap for the Deadmage to saunter up to her.

Riven leaned in. The Deadmage looked nothing like Mhell. His dark cloak was ragged and dotted with tears and holes, his dark hair straggling nearly to the ground, and his cracked face was greenish brown like partially oxidized copper.

“You’ve a lot of nerve coming here all on your own, girl,” he said.

Viriya raised her glowing fist. “You’ve a lot of nerve not dying on your own. It’d make things a lot easier for you.”

The Deadmage laughed, and Riven resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears It sounded like nails scratching on boards. “I have no interest in dealing with you and your fellow Essentier simpletons. As if you think you can stop what’s coming. The Sundering cannot be stopped.” He tutted. “My dear followers, eradicate her!”

With another thunderous roar, the Spectres charged at her. Riven tensed. So many. So damn many. Riven was about to rush in when Rio dragged him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. “What in the Chasm are you going to do except die?”

“Something other just sitting here,” Riven growled, raising his voice over the screaming Spectres.

“Try to chill, Riven. You don’t have to.”

Rio nodded forward, his twinkling purple earring swinging, Riven followed his gaze, watching breathlessly.

Viriya stood her ground as the Spectres charged in. Their screaming rush made the air thrum and the land shake, but all Viriya did was point her gun at the sky and fire a Sept bullet, glowing golden-green. The ghosts swamped her, ready to tear her apart, and Riven shouted at her to get the Chasm out. She hammered the ground her glowing fist, and her green glow swamped everywhere. In an instant, it carpeted the earth in beads of glowing emeralds. A fraught heartbeat later, the land ruptured and blasted up into the air, bits and pieces smaller than dust and bigger than heads shooting up like they’d been fired from cannons. Riven froze as the Spectres all around Viriya were torn to thousand shreds, tearing apart into a cloud of Sept crystals that died as soon as they were free of their Deathless cages. Their collective screams faded before the freed Sept did.

Moments later, Viriya was standing alone, surrounded by swirling mist and clouds of dust that sparkled a brilliant viridian.

Rio smirked when Riven looked back at him. “What did I tell you?”

Tiny rocks and bits of the ground were raining down everywhere, and Riven had to shade his head as he focused on the Deadmage. He didn’t look troubled that his little army had just been eradicated instead of Viriya. Instead, he floated forward, his eyes glowing a fiery red, his grin blazing with the same light.

“Neat trick.” Every step he took made the air swirl around him faster and faster. Little fire sparked all over him. That’s what made his cloak so ripped. They weren’t tears, they were burns, the scorched edges lost to sight in the darkness. “Last warning, girl. Get out before I burn you to bits too small to recognize.”

In response, Viriya fired her gun at the Deadmage. The bullet lodged in his chest, and he fell back, staring at and clutching the wound bleeding Sept dust. When he raised his head, a new crack ran straight through his red eyes. “Die!”

A fireball materialized out of nowhere and shot straight at Viriya. She jumped to a side and it exploded against the hill, its garish red light warring with the green of the Essence star.

“His Sprit is fire,” Rio commended as though he was watching a particularly engaging boxing bout.

Riven stood up, unable to look away. “Very helpful.”

The entire area was teeming with Spectres. Thousands upon thousands, a whole legion of those who had passed away in the presence of too much Sept crowding the area as far as his eyes could see, the Coral trees providing the only evidence that there was solid ground beneath the mass of Deathless. If it had been too many Spectres moments ago when Viriya was attacked, now there was no question she had to turn and run.

Except she couldn’t as another fireball flew past her. The Deadmage was gesturing wildly, the fires on his body burning brighter and brighter as he shot blast after flaming blast at Viriya. She dodged several more, then stopped. When the next fireball came flying at her, she didn’t move and it swung away in a different direction to hit the ground harmlessly.

Riven and the Deadmage both stared. Rio laughed.

With a growl like an axe striking a bell, the Deadmage threw more fire. The flames on his cloak turned white hot, his eyes glowing red like glittering rubies as the reds, oranges, and yellows danced a fiery cotillion with the shimmering green that glittered in the dusty air and grew from the ground like a facsimile of grass.

Nothing made contact. A dozen blasts of fire raged towards Viriya, who did nothing but stare down her adversary, and all of them veered off on their own, leaving her unscathed.

“What in the Chasm are you doing?” the Deadmage demanded.

“Killing you.” Viriya raised her gun and shot, but a Spectre jumped in front of the Deadmage and fell with a Sept-bleeding hole in her chest. The Deadmage fell back, and Viriya stared at the Spectre.

A distraction. Riven shouted a warning, but too late. The Deadmage had finished his part. A giant fireball materialized above the area, momentarily reducing the green glow to tiny pinpricks. It floated above Viriya, growing larger with every breath. Then fell. As it descended with the sound of a meteor, she raised her glowing fist and a tiny piece of her star flew into the sinking inferno.

Then it exploded. Fire spewed everywhere, the Spectres retreating as far back as their masses allowed, the Coral trees shaded a bloody crimson in the glare of the blaze. Riven’s eyes were filled with the flame, flooded with the spectrum of scarlet and gold, and the tiny dancing dots of green. It was nigh impossible to stay still. She couldn’t be dead. No way. Not so easily. But the Deadmage was laughing in apparent triumph, every hack from its useless lungs like spikes being driven into Riven’s ears.

The fires faded slowly, leaving only burning patches strewn across the ground and tiny flying rocks and pebbles trailing flames like little meteors. As the dust cleared, Riven took a step forward and blinked. Then smiled wide. She was alive.

Chasm, Viriya was as untouched as she’d been through the whole encounter.

“What?” the Deadmage shrieked. “How?”

Rio laughed louder than ever, though it didn’t reach as far as the little battlefield. “Do you see it, Riven? Her green things everywhere?”

Riven did. They were everywhere. Floating in the wind, carpeting the ground, blanketing everything in Viriya’s near vicinity, except for herself. Of course, that’s how she was avoiding them without really doing anything. Her Essence particles floating in the dust were latching onto the flames coming at her and retargeting them away to the particles on the ground, all thanks to her Locking. Riven shook his head, smile returning. Unbelievable. She was a pure genius.

“You can’t defeat me, Deadmage.” Viriya was awash in her green glow again, hard and uncrackable as emeralds. “I’ll give you once chance. Surrender, and answer my questions.”

The Deadmage gave her a hard grin and fell a few steps back as the Spectres crowded in front of him. “You really thought it would be that easy?”

Before Viriya could reply, the Spectres charged. She repeated her trick, and the ground burst apart and shredded the Spectres to ribbons of fading Sept. But there were too many of them. Even as the first wave disappeared in the cloud of glowing dust overtaking the land, more and more charged in.

“Hey! Deadmage!” Viriya shouted. “Come back here.”

Riven tried to peer into the dusty, glittering gloom, but he saw no sign of the Deadmage. Viriya took on a more active role, charging into the masses of the ghosts, the ground exploding all around her.

“There!” Rio had gotten up as well. He was pointing to somewhere in the distance. Riven followed his finger, and sure enough, the Deadmage was rushing through the mass of the Spectres like a ship cutting through waves.

“We need to go after him.” Even as Riven said that, he forced his legs to not charge off blindly. There were a ton of Spectres. So many that several had turned their attention elsewhere. Namely, Riven and Rio at the top of the hill.

“Crap,” Rio said. Curiously, his hands were clenched around his Coral dagger instead of his Sept gun.

“We need to get to the Deadmage,” Riven said, his heart starting to thud loud. “Through all these ghosts.”

“We do. Fast.”

“Before he escapes.”

Rio looked up past the canopy of Coral branches to the looming Haven in the distance. “Before he destroys the haven and kills everyone. Your father was right. He wants to kill everyone here.”