“Kindness can be found in the most unlikely places, as can cruelty.”

—Taberfors the Traveler

Zaina raised her hands toward the sky. “My name is Zaina Quin. I come from—”

“Why are you here?”

“Huh?”

The woman gripped her fang tightly. “Why are you here?”

Zaina thought for a minute about what to say—she needed to seem desperate without seeming like she was trying to seem desperate. She tried to imagine a scenario where she never went to the Order of Riiva; a scenario where, after the destruction of Demelia, she had nowhere to go.

That was it. “I—I need help.”

“Very vague,” the woman replied. “All right—let’s see if we can’t help you. I need you to hold very, very still. Seriously, don’t move at all, or I’ll run you through.”

Zaina gulped and put her hands up. She didn’t like the idea of putting her life in this stranger’s hands, but it was her only option right now.

The woman slowly stepped toward her, fang raised, and stopped less than a foot away. Then she reached out and touched Zaina’s mark, pressing into it with her thumb—almost as if to see if it would bleed or come off. After a few seconds she lowered her weapon.

The woman sighed and then called out over her shoulder, “Varok! Come on out. She’s good.”

Zaina’s brow furrowed. “That’s—that’s it? Why did you do that?”

“Had to make sure that mark of yours is real,” the woman replied. “Can’t be too careful these days. Varok!”

A young man stepped out from behind a tree. His hand was outstretched, and perched atop it was a small insect with colorful wings thrice the size of its long body. “Sorry, sorry.”

The woman sighed. “Well met, Zaina. My name is Tarina, and this is Varok. You know anything about a ship landing somewhere near here?”

“Yeah, that’s mine,” Zaina replied. “Well—to be honest, I don’t know whose it is. But I borrowed it to get here.”

“Well,” Tarina said, “you picked a hell of a time to show. Come on, follow us.”

“Oh? Where are we going?”

“Home,” Tarina said over her shoulder.

Zaina shrugged and went along with it. Tarina and Varok moved slowly, deliberately, and in complete silence through the thickening forest.

“Is there a reason we’re moving so slow?” Zaina whispered to Tarina.

“The unmarked send their killers into our territory every day,” she replied. “We were told to avoid a fight if possible.”

“I see. Who are the nmarked, now?”

Tarina pointed to the mark on her face. “Anyone without this.”

“Ah, gotcha. Makes sense. So does—”

“We’ll answer your questions when we get back to the mountain.”

Zaina didn’t need to be told twice. She held her tongue, thinking up everything she wanted to ask when they arrived at the enclave.

There was no path through the forest, and the clear spaces between the trees had disappeared. Knee-high or higher bushes and grass covered the ground, intermixed with tangled roots and twisting branches. Their rugged path had a slight but noticeable incline. Few creatures stirred here in the dark of the deep forest. The glimmering strands of light breaking through the canopy’s rustling leaves pitched dancing shadows all about.

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After what felt like an eternity in the still quiet of the forest, the crowded trees began to thin out. Sunlight broke through the canopy. The grass was lower and had been flattened in spots, and gray-and-red rocks were scattered everywhere. Through the waving treetops a great mountain came into view, the same hue as the stones all around.

Are we already on the mountain?

An odd clamor rang out as they moved along—rhythmic, metallic bangs mixed with the occasional ear-biting screech. Zaina had no idea what to expect or what she was walking into. Her heart was pounding—she was a long way from the ship.

Finally, the treeline broke, and Zaina stepped out into a clearing. It was a plateau part-way up the mountain. Behind it was a cliff face at least three hundred feet tall and too steep to climb without equipment. The rest of the mountain loomed overhead.

The plateau itself had been haphazardly cleared, with hewn tree trunks around the edges. Massive machinery, some in working condition and some not, littered the area, and tents with crates and tables of smaller equipment were arranged in rows wherever there was space. A makeshift scaffolding, hundreds of feet tall, was rigged against the mountain, made of logs, planks of wood, stone, metal, and whatever else could help provide support. People of every species, race, and gender marched about with a sense of urgency, lugging rocks or carrying large equipment. Their only shared feature was the Mark of the Recalcitrant and their apparent need to mine.

“Welcome to the enclave,” Tarina said.

“Thank you,” Zaina said. “So—I stay here now?”

Varok chuckled, and Tarina shook her head. “No one joins until they’ve talked to Lady Sivanya. We can’t be too careful these days.”

“Okay,” Zaina said. “Where can I find her?”

“She’ll find you,” Tarina said. “Pick a place to sit—out of the way of the busywork unless you care to lose a limb or two. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Tarina walked off and called out to Varok, who was petting a squirrel. He hurriedly followed, leaving Zaina alone.

Part of her yearned to leave, to call the mission a bust—it had gone well so far, but she didn’t know what to expect from the enclave’s leader. But there was too much at stake—these people’s lives, mostly. Zaina trudged forward, trying to dodge as people ran to and fro, and found an out-of-the-way bench nestled between two tents. She sat facing the mountain, watching their work.

The Order says what they’re doing is dangerous, but I wouldn’t know that. She wondered what secrets the temple held.

Their work was clearly arduous and slow, with each stone taking great effort to remove; barely any of the cliff had been dug out, but something was visible, too—the corner of a building, too perfectly shaped to be natural, had already been uncovered.

“Is this seat taken?” a soothing, feminine voice came from behind her. Zaina turned and was met by a tall human woman with long, disheveled blonde hair and green eyes. The woman’s mark, roughly an inch thick, ran diagonally across her face. Her sharp nose and thin eyes gave an aura of elegance, but her relaxed eyebrows and reassuring smile were enough to put Zaina at ease. Her skin was pale gray and covered in blood and sweat. She wore working clothes—dusty overalls over a blouse and a belt stuffed with tools.

“No,” Zaina said.

“Excellent!” the woman said. She hobbled over and sat down—one of her legs gave a whirring hiss followed by a click with every step. “I assume you’re waiting for someone?”

“Yes,” Zaina replied awkwardly. “I was told to wait for Lady Sivanya.”

“Well, do you know what she looks like?”

“No, I’ve never seen her. But I have heard about her.”

“Oh? And what have you heard?”

Zaina said, “That she’s kind. That she takes in people in need and helps them—people like me, I guess.”

“I’m sure it would warm her heart to hear,” the woman replied. Zaina stared back at the mining work. The woman said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“What is it?” Zaina asked, playing dumb.

“A temple,” the woman said. “A monument. A cemetery. Built over one million years ago by the Marked Empire. It was commissioned by Savon himself, it’s said.”

Zaina glanced at the woman—she didn’t remember much of what she’d learned about the Marked Empire in school. “Is that the top of it?”

“Heavens, no,” the woman replied. “We’ve only begun to excavate the outer walls at this level, but I think it’s much taller—and much deeper, too. It’s said the temple stood a thousand feet tall before it was smothered with rock and dirt.”

“Who’s saying all these things?”

“They’re old Marked legends,” the woman said. “Some are more likely true than others, but you’d be surprised how much of the truth has passed to our people.”

Since they were on the topic of the temple, Zaina figured she’d ask the most important question. “What’s inside it?”

The woman chuckled and then replied, “That’s also an old Marked legend—perhaps one you’ll hear another time. Now, tell me—where do you come from?”

Zaina didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t answer. Xyrthe had told her to mix as much of the truth in as possible. “I come from Demelia. It’s pretty far away.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of it. What’s it like?”

“Gone, now,” Zaina replied. “It was destroyed—that’s why I had to leave.”

“Destroyed?” the woman asked, seeming surprised. “What destroyed an entire planet?”

“The Eldritch,” Zaina replied. “It gave me this mark and tried to destroy my home, but a lancer killed it.”

The woman rubbed her chin. “Yet the lancer spared your life. Why, I wonder?”

“They didn’t say,” Zaina said.

“Most curious.” The woman’s brow ruffled. “And you were given the mark by the Eldritch—of this you’re sure?”

Zaina nodded.

“I see. That is grave news, friend—but fear not. There may be a way to help you stave off the Eldritch’s influence.”

Zaina perked up. “Really?”

“Yes,” the woman replied, “and the key lies in that temple.”