Chapter 3

Many years ago…

The second floor of the cathedral began to empty, and the choir’s final notes echoed out among the murmurs and shuffling steps. However, Hove remained in his seat, staring out at the massive statue in front of him.

Carved from a singular slab of snow-white marble, a massive, hooded figure stood at the end of the cathedral. The Outsider. Not quite a god, yet among the Seven, it stood as an omen of all living things and their natural end. The statue’s design had been expertly executed. As a result, the hood enveloped a void. There was no face on the statue. Instead, only a void of black. Further, his posture was simple. There were no limbs to be visible. Only a massive white hooded garb fell over The Outsider. Many found it to be a posture of greatness, of power, of forewarning.

Hove had always thought that it seemed to be staring blankly, almost without emotion or warmth.

While Belle’s Hold had never been particularly charged with faith among the citizens, the Grand Cathedral of the East was rarely empty. Pilgrims would venture to the eastern cliffs of Korema to visit the holy site regularly, and today was no ordinary day, as was visible to Hove from his balcony view.

Hove peered forward and counted the remaining dozen.

Below him, kneeling in the first rows of pews were brothers and sisters with their hands folded as they mumbled their ancient prayers. Dressed in their purple long-skirts and ivory caps, there was almost no chance to tell the men and women apart. Although Hove couldn’t see from here, he wondered if one of them was also an elf!

The one he studied was slightly taller than the rest, and they seemed to carry grace upon their shoulders and let the light bounce and dance across their body.

Behind Hove, the old cathedral’s wooden steps began to creak and croak as someone approached him, but he already knew who it could be.

Immediately, Hove stood and turned to greet her.

Her – the one with whom he learned his letters.

Her – the one with whom he learned to kiss.

Her – the one who stole his heart so long ago.

Her – Nelmora.

In an instant, he had retraced her figure with his eyes. Nelmora’s black hair was pulled back and pinned with her late mother’s hairclip; her curled lips held back a smile that had allowed only Hove to memorize every flavor and shape of; the green eyes that carried him in every sight she took in.

Nelmora was also wearing her uniform. Hove’s heart began to peel apart, layer by layer, like the petals of a rose.

Nevertheless, Hove smiled as Nelmora descended to the balcony.

She said, “I can’t stay for very long.”

Hove nodded, “I know.”

They sat and looked over the railing at the pilgrims below. The two began to whisper back and forth.

Hove pointed to the tall one and, “I think that one is an elf.”

Nelmora snickered. “Well, if they are, then they have probably heard you from all the way over there!”

“The hearing… yeah.” He bit his lip then apologized, “Sorry… If you can hear me!”

The both laughed, causing one of the pilgrims – not the possible elf - to turn and cast a lingering eye upon them.

Hove waved his hand to them to apologize. He leaned back and whispered, “New Night always brings out the strangest characters.” His gaze fell to the pilgrims below, and for a moment he looked at them with contempt. As if he were embarrassed to have them within the walls of his own city. He tried to shove the thought away. Hove looked around at the marble architecture, the brass hanging light fixtures, the stained-glass murals, and he said, “It’s nice to have one of the Seven Great Cathedrals in our city, but I wish that it could have been for anyone else. I hate watching these freaks walk around our kingdom.”

Nelmora leaned against his shoulder. It had been months since they had this in public together, but she grabbed his hand and interlocked their fingers. Her head moved down and nestled in the crook of his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say those things about the gods.”

Hove sighed, “I’ve been saying these things for years. And as it stands, I’ve yet to be smited… or is smote? Either way, if the gods had a problem with me talking about them, then I would have heard something by now.”

“And you know what? I’d say The Outsider is very welcome here. I would even say that it will be watching over me as I head out.”

Hove looked forward at the ominous statue.

Nelmora added, “Speaking of…”

Hove turned to look at her as she lifted her head.

“There’s still time. We could run!” Hove held her hands tightly, “Nelmora, we could go out now. You might become an enemy of the state, but we could make it work.”

Nelmora laughed, which caused the same pilgrim to turn and cast another look of judgement.

“Hove, I can’t,” she said as she smiled away the fantasy. “I’ve made my decision, and I need to stick with it to the end.”

Nelmora stood, and the two said their farewells.

When it was only him again, Hove began to look down at the pilgrims again. Tears began to fall out of his eyes, dripping down over the railing. He looked up and was met with the apathetic void of The Outsider.

Hove wouldn’t leave the cathedral until the sun had set, and far away were the warming rays of sunlight. Only he and the void remained.

---

A cold morning sun had risen over Belle’s Hold, and the Heir to the Blood had been at the gate at dawn’s first light.

They had announced for the entirety of the city to be gathered, and to have Councilman Hove convene with their own standing leader.

Their leader, a man in his forties, seemed to be nearly identical to Hove. Not only were they similar in age, both men looked tired, proud, and frustrated at their current position.

The man, a general within the Heir to the Blood, was bald, and the wrinkles and bags under his eyes seemed to have more to say than his crooked mouth.

Nearly an hour ago, Hove had been introduced to the man, General Raymond, at the gate of Belle’s Hold. Since their meeting, General Raymond had issued a city-wide investigation. Behind him, a rally of at least one thousand troops began to march toward the city.

The citizens of Belle’s Hold that had become members of the royal guard stepped aside as a wash of black and red metal stomped into their home. Unlike the rider, these troops were adorned in metal that seemed to be more suitable for war. Common chest-pieces and ordinary helmets were painted black and red. Words were hushed, and breathes were short as the legion poured through the gates. Along with the swathes of troops came a dozen riders, among these was the woman that had met Hove the night before. These riders were the only ones wearing the nightmarish twisted metal armor. No two matched with any similarity.

The twelve riders departed their horses and accompanied Raymond and Hove into the great hall. Further inside, Hove lead them to a meeting room that would house the members. Despite there being ample room to house all twelve of the riders, Raymond waved them away with a hand and they stood guard outside the room.

Hove took a seat at the end of a large table. Anxious for the conversation to start, yet not wanting to be the one to speak first, Hove distracted himself with the walls. To his left, a yellow curtain fell and danced in the wind in front of a closed window. Strange, Hove thought to himself as he looked closer. Raymond studied the room for a moment before ultimately standing behind a chair near Hove, cutting off his view of the curtain.

Raymond cleared his throat and ran his hand over his bald head. As he began to speak, his voice was calm and soothing. Hove liked this, as he felt there might be some chance to speak with reason to this man. “These games have grown quite tiring. Where is His Grace Pavo, for I would much desire to speak with him?”

Hove said, “I wish I knew. Like I’ve already told you, he vanished a few nights ago. I’ve searched the grounds since, and I can’t find him. Believe me, if there was a chance you could be speaking with him, then I would trade our places in a heartbeat.”

“What? Do I not make good company?” Raymond sneered as he chuckled. “I only joke with you, Master Hove. I don’t have any doubts that the old fool Pavo has fled.”

Raymond continued, “I was lucky enough to be born without the gifts of the gods. I don’t have any Spark blood in my veins.” Raymond showed his open hands to Hove. “No, not here. There were no lucky prizes at my birth. Instead, those powers went to the greedy and selfish. I’ve climbed my way to this position. Is it the highest in the Heir? Not hardly! But I’m proud of myself and what I’ve accomplished.”

Raymond walked from behind his chair to Hove’s and stood behind him as he added, “And Master Hove, do you understand how hard that climb was for me?”

“I- I- I’d imagine it was quite difficult.” Hove gulped.

“Oh, for me? Not very hard at all! While I wasn’t born with any Sparks, I was born with perseverance in my heart. I was born with resourcefulness in my blood. And I was born with a coroner for a father, so I have known for decades what it takes to make someone croak.”

Hove started to stand quickly, but Raymond’s hands quickly moved Hove back into his own chair.

Rather than push further, Raymond walked away and paced the room again.

“Master Hove, I didn’t like my father. He was rash. He would snap a bone to see what’s under it, rather than just turn the body over. He would cut open the heart, even if the body bled to death over a missing foot. I don’t like to resort to those tactics, but believe me sir, that these tactics run warm in my blood.” His eyes surveyed a painting of the Grand Bell during its construction.

It seemed to change his mind, because Raymond instead asked, “What do you know about the book of Dodius?”

Hove answered, “Not much. I’ve only heard general descriptions. It’s a small leatherbound book, well, really a diary. The author, Dodius, would write about his travels in Korema from a few centuries ago.”

“That’s correct. All of it! To be more precise, Dodius wrote this book 413 years ago.” Raymond turned to look at Hove. “Do you have any idea why we are looking for this book?”

Hove shook his head as an answer.

“The story is long, and the morals might be lost on you. Instead, I’ll just say that it carries a sentimental value to our leader. He has his own beliefs. While I may not share them, he will request the book either way. Thus, I now have a sentimental tie to this book.”

“I’ve already told you.” Hove was beginning to grow impatient. “If I had the book in your pocket, I would give it to you freely.”

Raymond chuckled.

He looked at Hove and chuckled again.

Then, Raymond walked over to Hove quite briskly. He stared at Hove until Hove broke eye contact and looked away.

In a flash, Raymond rushed a hand to Hove’s and forced his palm to open flat on the table.

“Hey!” Hove tried to wrestle his hand back, but fear caught his eyes and turned his bones to liquid as he spotted the glint of a small blade appear in Raymond’s hand.

It was over as quick as Hove could see the light bounce off the blade, but when the blade appeared again, blood trickled off its tip.

The pain attacked his chest, and he almost couldn’t breathe. Raymond moved aside, and Hove could see the horror that lay bleeding atop the table.

His left pointer finger had been severed, and it was laying dead on the table among a pool of red blood.

Hove’s screams turned into shouts and those slowly became words.

Raymond instead wiped the blade on the curtains of the window before sheathing the small knife within his jacket. “I told you. I don’t need some ridiculous Spark. I know that a bone is tough. It takes more than a blade to cut straight through a bone. Instead, dislocating it just enough allows me to slip it right in.”

“You absolute madman!” Hove stood as he clutched his bleeding hand. “I’ll have your neck for this!”

“You will? But the show is just starting!”

Raymond began to fish something else out of his jacket. Hove flinched as he watched Raymond.

In between heartbeats of pain and pulsing hot, angry gushes of terror, Hove struggled to see, but there was no mistaking Raymond’s cold and calculated surgical movements.

Raymond grabbed the severed finger as if it weren’t some dispatched appendage from a person. From his jacket, he revealed a small vial, green and bubbling. He popped off the cork and poured only enough to dribble over the wound of the finger. Sizzling and steaming, the blood began to boil!

Then, Raymond grabbed Hove’s hand and pressed the severed finger against the wound on the hand.

Like the stretching and grasping of a thousand small hands, the skin began to pull and walk itself back across the gap, bridging the distance until there was no more blood visible.

Suddenly, a POP!

Hove let out another howl and scream as he felt the bone crack back into place, and it seemed as if pure energy was being ignited between his finger and hand.

Turning his hand over, Hove could see a pure white ring marking where his finger had been sliced away. With a painful flex, Hove’s finger moved as he curled and uncurled it.

Eyes moved up with a terrifying match.

Raymond was looking down at Hove, smiling slightly, as if this were a normal occurrence he might find mildly amusing.

“I believe that some of the more… carefree members of this profession, don’t see the gift that I possess with this concoction. They believe that if I take your fingers, wear your toes as jewelry, or cut free your eyelids, you’ll just tell me anything… They don’t see that I can just come back tomorrow and take these things again, and again, and again. But maybe after enough times, I just don’t put you back together.”

Raymond turned and moved toward the door.

“I’ll put it plainly,” Raymond continued. “I’m going to leave for a few minutes. In hopes that my soldiers have found the book already, I might be able to spare you some more unnecessary pain. Equally, take the time to consider what else I can cut off. How much I can take away. How many times I can take things away.” He shook the vial for Hove to see. “And I have plenty more of this tucked away.”

Raymond left, and Hove shook with terror as he clutched his finger, still popping and fidgeting with lightning from under his skin.

Pain was empty and vanishing from his body, but Hove felt weary with the blood he had lost. Yet, he couldn’t deny that his finger was reattached and working as if some gruesome moment of horror hadn’t just taken place. He traced the white ring around his finger. Small veins of white ran toward his hand and fingertip from the ring.

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Then a flutter caught his attention.

He looked over at the blood-stained curtain, still swaying slightly in the breeze… of a closed window?

Hove went to the curtain, and he held his fingers against the fabric, hoping to feel the breeze. Soft, and almost indetectable, Hove felt a cool breeze running along the curtain. Yet breeze was unmistakably too low to be from the window.

He took a step back. The window was placed just in between two large bookshelves. Below the window was only stone and mortar, yet as Hove observed it more closely… Hove ran to the window and looked out as best he could. The view was restricted, yet sure enough, directly beneath the window, the wall jutted out and went straight down, and it seemed to extrude only the length of one person.

“A passage!” Hove whispered to himself. He went to his knees, pressing slightly on the bricks and stone. Directly with the breeze, his hand pressed on the stone, and it clicked into the wall with his touch. “I’ll be damned…”

Crunching softly and grinding furiously, the wall began to move back revealing only a small opening into black. Hove moved forward and stuck his head into the opening. The echoes proved it to be a passage bearing straight down, with small rungs and footholds in the wall.

“In all my years of being here… I’ve never known about any passages!”

There was no time to debate the escape.

Hove immediately turned around and began to move himself down the dark decline. His foot found the hold, and quickly his next step, then his next. Shaking hands gripped each place with as much force as he could.

After a few moments within the decline, the wall began to crunch again, and it began to close overhead. With every inch it closed, darkness crawled over his body, and as the hidden passage was resealed, Hove was in complete darkness. Even looking down, only shadows of an apathetic void looked back at Hove.

Deep. Deep was the descent.

Down. Down into darkness.

Dark. Dark like a dream.

Never was a sound heard from above during his descent, and Hove wondered if Raymond had even come back, or if the wall was suppressing the sounds completely.

Still, there was no sense of depth now, as Hove continued to descend for what felt like five minutes.

Then, the faintest of light began to pour through below him.

With each step down, the light was not brighter, instead only clearer. Something was casting light within the base of this access, and the air started to become salty and thick.

Echoing off the walls, bouncing around like a siren of distant conversations, a conversation made its way to Hove.

“Try it again,” a voice hissed!

“Tell me again, and I’ll place my hand on your heart!” A second voice cursed out at the first.

Hove pressed forward cautiously down a long sewer system. Small puddles pooled alongside muggy and dank pockets of air.

“But this has to work! It can’t not be working!”

“Are your eyes still in your head? It’s obviously not working!”

“But it doesn’t make sense!”

“I know it doesn’t make any damned sense!”

A rat skipped by Hove’s foot and ran toward the voices. Luckily, he didn’t make a sound, as the voices didn’t seem to notice him.

Hove arrived at the end of the hall, and he stood pressed against a corner, afraid to look around and uncover what new secrets laid beneath his home.

His eyes instead went to his finger, and his thumb ran along the scar tissue. There was no going back. Only forward.

Hardly daring to spare even one eye, Hove slowly moved his head around the corner.

Two men, much younger than he, were around a table.

One stood with long brown hair tumbling down onto his shoulders. His clothes were a spiraling pool of grays and black, and curiously his sleeves of his overcoat were sinched at his wrists by white threads. In his decades of being a councilman among one of the larger cities of Korema, Hove had never seen a detail like this in someone’s attire.

The other man paced around the table, and his hair was shaved as close as can be to his head. He grunted and spoke to himself in quiet yet audible bursts of noises and sounds, but never words. Unlike the other man, his clothes were of no note, yet he had a large axe strapped to his back. The hilt was deep mossy green, and small runes were painted throughout it in a shadowy black ink. The blade was polished silver, and small white lines decorated the accents of the metal.

Hove breathed some sigh of relief, because the men carried no resemblance to the Heir to the Blood.

Then Hove noticed the table.

On this small and unimportant table sat a book.

“The Book of Dodius,” Hove whispered.

Here?! Within this hidden passage? On display of these two strangers?

Then his mind raced and remembered the previous day. The stories of two Sparks, entering Korema, disappearing with Pavo and Goran.

Where were his friends?

And then Goran appeared.

Appearing from behind some barrels, Hove realized he was just out of sight! His friend was alive!

“We are wasting time! It’s beginning! I’m predicting we have less than an hour until they will find us. The Heir will find one of the passages quickly. The Sparks they have brought likely possess some gift that will assist them in finding the book, which will mean they will find us!”

The man with short hair nodded and said, “Then we fight them head on. Ashe and I can handle them.”

Ashe, Hove noted, was the man with long hair.

Ashe said nothing. Instead, he brought his hand toward the book again and closed his eyes as he placed his palm flatly against the book. His face seemed to contort, flushing away thought and sense, as Ashe’s body looked to push all power into the palms of his hands.

Yet nothing seemed to happen.

He turned away sharply, and Ashe looked around, spotted some rubbish, and he kicked it across the room.

Hove gripped the sides of the corner, trying desperately to figure out why Goran hadn’t brought him down here to assist further. Goran was also a Spark, so perhaps this was some secret meeting that only Sparks could resolve, but to leave Hove behind completely…

Then Pavo’s voice said, “Goran is right. Our time here is over, and we now must flee. You must go quickly before you all are found!”

Hove began to step out, but pulled his foot back hurt by the betrayal of his friends, directly into a puddle.

The short haired man perked up, “We’ve already been found.” With a lofty arm, the man grabbed his axe and launched it toward Hove. The axe soared through the air, and Hove ducked back behind the wall just before the axe embedded itself in the wall!

“Gah! Stop! Stop!”

Hove clutched at his neck, happy to note that his head was still attached. He wondered if Raymond’s vial would be able to fix something that drastic.

The short haired man shouted, “Grab the book! We must go now! I’ll handle this one!”

This one? Hove gulped! He was this one!

Quickly, he emerged with his hands flailing widely. “Wait, it’s me! Goran! Pavo!”

“Hove?” Pavo peered toward Hove before his eyes widened with excitement! “It’s you! I was worried they had taken you.”

Pavo ran over and embraced Hove.

Hove noticed Goran stand back. The man carried a veil of frustration under his eyes.

It was clear they had been down here for nearly two days. Unshaved, unkept, and the smell was unsavory.

“We can trust him,” the short haired man asked?

“Yes, Yarroh.” Pavo turned, “He’s an old friend.”

Yarroh grunted. Next, he began to reach out his hand, then as if he were throwing the axe in reverse, Yarroh’s fingers curled just in time as Hove heard the axe begin to unlatch itself from the wall and go directly back into his grasp.

“A Spark!” Hove said through excitement.

Pavo interrupted. “There is no time for introductions. Hove, I need you to return to Belle’s Hold with me. Goran, lead Ashe and Yarroh down to the base of the cliff. We must act now to give you proper time to escape?”

“Escape?” Hove asked, “You’re leaving?”

Pavo answered, “And quickly.”

“But that’s the Book of Dodius!” Hove moved past Goran and stood at the table. He couldn’t help noticing how Ashe and Yarroh watched him carefully, studying his movements, ready to pounce.

There it was, the Book of Dodius!

A small pocketbook, leatherbound in a deep blue cover. No special marks were on the cover, nor the spine. How could something so ordinary be the catalyst for a city-wide siege? No, a continent-wide siege!

“Hove, we must move now!” Pavo came over and grabbed Hove’s arm, but Hove wrung his arm free out of some passive instinct following Raymond.

“Keep your hands off of me!”

Hove stepped away from Pavo, and Ashe and Yarroh both took one cautious step forward. His eyes darted to the two men.

Pavo exclaimed, “I am your King! You’ll do as I say!”

“I have!” Hove shouted back. “For nearly twenty-four years I have done everything you said! We’ve been friends for longer than that! And then I chose to stay here and spend my last remaining days by your side! How many people also chose that? How many of your friends are still here today? How many even said, ‘farewell’ before they abandoned you?” Hove felt tears swell in his eyes. He was tired. He was terrified. He was hurt. However, now was not the time to shed the tears. Blinking them away, Hove continued, “But then you left me! I was up there! I searched for you everywhere. Your people have been looking for you. Now they are hopeless while the Heir to the Blood marches through our streets and pillages our homes. They are looking for you and this book!”

Hove turned and stared down at the small journal.

“What even is this? Isn’t it just some wanderer’s ledger?” Hove’s hand reached toward the book. Ignoring Ashe and Yarroh, his hand stretched out.

With the book in his hands, Hove opened the cover. In the moment that he turned open the cover, everything changed, and the world faded away.

---

His eyes were pinched shut, and he dared not open them.

His body seemed frozen, yet Hove knew he was in full control.

With the smallest of movements, he began to open his eyes.

Hove still held the book in his hands, and he was turning open the cover, but he was no longer in the dank sewers under Belle’s Hold.

Never before had Hove seen anything like this.

Hove stood alone in a supremely quiet environment, yet everything was crystalline and lush with a purple and lavender kaleidoscope of tall pillars that seemed to resemble a tree without its leaves. Hundreds – no, thousands – of these crystal pillars were standing within this shimmering wasteland. There was no sky, for as Hove looked up, the branches of these crystal trees sprang off from one another until they enveloped his vision. He looked to his feet, and the ground was as if he walked on a pane of glass. It was hollow in sound, but Hove was terrified at the thought of it breaking free. He feared what could be under it.

“Hello?” His voice sang out as the sound bounced off of the limitless shimmering purple trees.

Nervous to walk, Hove stood only in place.

He remembered his hand, and suddenly realized he was still holding the book of Dodius.

Something about this book had transported him elsewhere, and there seemed to be no way back…

Hove turned the book over in his hand. It still remained the simple blue leather.

Once he fully opened the book, the pages began to turn endlessly! One after the next flipped over and over without end. In between the blurring pages, Hove could see scrawling notes that spanned page after page. Sketches flashed by, alongside maps, alongside passages, alongside…

“What is going on here?” Hove looked around again, “Can anyone hear me?”

Still the pages turned.

Something moved, and Hove looked around again.

Moving through the shimmering trees, some figure walked plainly. It was strange, but Hove found himself losing sight of them as the figure walked. While they walked behind one tree, they would emerge from another. Sometimes closer, sometimes further. Sometimes ahead of their steps, sometimes a few paces behind where they were. His eyes felt tired watching the figure move.

“Hello!” Hove called out, hoping they might turn and see him.

The figure stopped, but only for a moment before trudging along.

Hove looked down at the book, and it still continued to flip through the pages.

“If I opened the book, and I was brought here…,” Hove thought aloud as his fingers began to curl around the cover of the book to close it.

---

The world returned to him. The shimmering trees were camouflaged away into the surrounding environment of the sewers. The purple would vanish more and more as he blinked, until everything remained as it previously were.

The spine of the book creaked shut, and the leather relaxed in his hand.

As he took in the familiar scene around him, Hove noticed Ashe had started to move toward him, but hadn’t take another step.

Softly, Ashe asked, “What just happened? Did anyone else hear him?”

Hove turned around and looked at the other faces, equally terrified. “What happened?” Nobody answered. “What did I say?”

Pavo’s face looked deflated, tired from age, exhausted by grief, and now extinguished with fright. “Hove, I think it’s best if you put the book down. Put it back down on the table.” When Hove didn’t answer, Pavo repeated himself, “Please, son, put it down.”

Hove stammered, “What happened? Where did I go?”

As Pavo reached for the book, he pulled on it, but it wouldn’t leave Hove’s grasp.

“Hove, release the book!”

Yarroh walked over and pulled on the book as well. Hove began to be pulled across the room, as he couldn’t let go of the book either, but Yarroh’s strength wasn’t enough to break Hove’s unintentional grasp on the book.

“I’m not holding on! I’m trying to let go of it!”

Ashe mumbled, “This is very bad. The book has chosen him, Pavo. It will not leave his person again.”

“What!?” Hove pleaded, “Someone, please explain anything to me!”

Pavo grabbed Hove by the arms. “We tried to keep you out of this, but it seems fate has chosen a different path for you. There may still be a chance that this ends quietly, but it will not be today, nor now.”

“Pavo, what is going on?”

“My old friend,” Pavo said, “It is imperative that you never allow the Heir to gain access to this book. Do you understand?”

Hove nodded. “Why?”

“That’s the most terrifying part. We aren’t sure what will happen if they have it. The Book of Dodius is an artifact far more mysterious than those things recovered from the Grey Days. It’s been held in secrecy for many decades, but a trail was uncovered nonetheless, and it has led the Heir to the Blood here.” Pavo wiped sweat off of his brow.

“I’ll be quick as I explain this, but even I do not know everything. The Heir believes they have found someone that could read the book, much like I believe you have just done. There are very few who can read it, and yet you have just proven to be the first person to open the book in nearly three hundred years.”

“Wait, three hundred—”

“Master Hove, history books and ledgers will forever recount the important moments of our land and people. While they are fascinating to read today, nobody wishes to live through it in their own days. Unfortunately, we find ourselves to be the authors of the next pages for the history of Korema. It is up to us to see that our descendants can live to read about these days. If the book falls into the Heir’s hands, then all hope of Korema’s future will be forfeit. Do you hear me, Master Hove?”

“I think so,” Hove answered.

He looked down at the book in his hands, and Hove felt its grasp on him loosen.

Slowly, Hove set the book down on the table.

“See, I’ve set it down! Someone take it from me.”

Pavo grabbed the book to showcase for Hove the effect. As Pavo stepped away, Hove began to feel a hunger within him, a thirst, a need for the book. Impulsively, Hove took a step toward Pavo.

Pavo offered the book back freely. “You two are bound now. Something within you has been altered forever.”

Hove took the book gingerly, hoping to not show how desperately he wanted it back, but when it returned to his hands, he felt refreshed like after a long and restful sleep.

“Here,” Yarroh said, handing Hove a backpack. “You’ll get really tired of carrying it.”

Hove nodded with embarrassment. He opened the pack and stuffed the book in. Just being in the bag seemed too far away, but it would have to be good enough for now.

“Well,” Hove asked, “where do we go?”

But there was no time for a response.

A distant thunder rumbled through the sewers. Then, a flurry of falling rocks echoed out from the hall Hove had emerged from.

Goran looked around the corner.

“They’ve burst through the Grand Hall’s entrance! They’ll be here in only a few minutes!”

Ashe said, “We need to move. Hove you’ll be joining us now, whether you like it or not?”

“Well, I don’t like it! Joining you? Where are you going?”

Yarroh responded, “Away!”

Pavo added, “I’ll do my best to delay the Heir. Follow the passages. Goran knows them well enough.”

“You?” Hove asked, “How will you defend them Pavo?”

“Sparks can hide in plain sight, my dear friend.” Pavo said as his sword glimmered at his side with a yellow warmth.

“You’re a Spark? But I never knew!”

“Now you know.” Pavo smiled once more before he walked past Goran to face the impending doom. “Do not forget me when you write this story in our history books. Tell them who I was, and that I fought to my last breath.”

Goran moved past Pavo, and he began to move Hove toward Ashe and Yarroh as the group split ways to descend further into the sewers.

The last thing Hove saw of King Pavo was him unsheathe his sword. The blade glimmered pure white and yellow, and it left a trail in the air as he made a few practice swings before the thunder of steps could be heard.

The group ran on, faster and further into the sewers.

Twists and turns opened up into straight and narrow passes, where water would trickle in or out.

Hove’s spirit soared as he imagined King Pavo, a Spark! What powers had he kept secret? How long had he known of his gift? How long would he last with it? A small part of him offered a prayer up to whichever god he could barely remember, hoping they might take care of Pavo soon.

The salt of the sea became stronger with every step, until finally sunlight emerged from a corner.

“Here!” Goran dashed toward a grate, hefty and sealed shut. “This is the way out! Ashe, can you do the honors?”

Without saying a word, Ashe stretched out his hand and placed his palm around one of the bars. Like sand in a windstorm, the metal started to dust away in a flurry over the cliffs. The first bar, then the second, then the metal started to flurry further and further until Hove couldn’t see it anymore.

“Wow. That was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it!” Hove thought back to the book, watching Ashe try over and over to place his hand on the book. “Why didn’t your Spark… uh, disintegrate the book?”

“Dust,” Ashe corrected. “And I’m not sure. My Spark has never been hindered before.”

“Focus for a moment,” Goran said as the final bars of the grate dusted away. “From here, the fall will be fine. It will hurt, but it won’t kill us. When you jump in, don’t swim toward the cliffs. The current will take us south, and from there, a hidden dock will await us.”

“Goran, how come I have never known any of this even existed?” Hove asked, “Why would Pavo tell you, but not me?”

“Sparks trust one another more than mere mortals,” Goran replied.

Mere mortals, the words were spat out. It stung Hove as the letters trailed through his ears.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, just, can we get moving?”

Hove stepped away, “You were never going to come back and save me, were you, Goran?”

“I- um, sure I would have!”

“Wait,” Hove studied him, “Your forecast. You could see with your Spark. I lower the odds, don’t I? You looked forward and saw that without me, there were better odds, didn’t you?”

Goran said nothing.

“We were brothers! I would have died with you by my side!”

“But this is bigger than our own deaths, Hove!” Goran took a step toward Hove, “We could die anywhere, and that would have been a fine finale for us both. But that was before I knew that Pavo had the book, hidden deep underground. It was before these two showed up and offered us some chance at survival.” He looked away. “It was before you sent us to death by touching the book.”

Hove looked at Ashe and Yarroh, whose gazes drifted to Goran. “What does your forecast say now,” Hove asked?

Goran spat out, “There is no chance now that it is tied to you. The Heir will retrieve the book within one week.”

“A week! That’s something for us!”

“Not with you, Hove! You’re old, and you’re a drunkard. You’re no warrior like these two Sparks! Hell, you aren’t even a Spark at all!”

Hove looked back from whence they came. “Well shit! What do we do then?"

Goran ran a hand over the top of his head. “For now, we jump. That’s a solid first step, or jump, I guess. Who will be first?”

Yarroh climbed up into the grate and dangled his legs through. “Jump down, swim south?”

Goran affirmed him, “You can’t miss the docks.”

Yarroh nodded and disappeared as he flung his body away.

Hove’s stomach dropped as he leaned forward and watched. Only now did he see how high up they were. Yarroh fell for nearly five seconds before a splash exploded around him. His head emerged, and bobbed southbound.

Ashe climbed up next. With no hesitation, he jumped quickly.

“You’re next,” Goran said.

Hove nodded and his body was shaking as he climbed up onto the ledge. He swung his legs over, and the wind made him dizzy. The waves took his breath away. The drop seemed miles deep suddenly.

He turned, “Goran, I can’t do it.”

“Of course you can!” Goran said angrily, “Don’t make me push you out!”

“I- I—”

Goran rolled his eyes. “Hove, you’re part of this journey now. You aren’t allowed to misstep anymore. Prove—”

Goran let out a terrifying gasp of air. He turned to reveal to Hove an arrow, deep within his back.

“No,” Hove shouted!

The taunting familiar voice of Raymond came from behind. “Master Hove! If you want your friends to live, step off the ledge. Come back inside.”

“Okay, just don’t hurt him anymore!”

Raymond appeared, and smiled gently.

Goran whispered, “I’ll be fine,” and with one triumphant shove, he ran into Hove, sending him flying out the grate and into the sea below.