“The only thing worse than immortality is immortality with bad company.”

— Attribution unknown.

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Roland and Yvette had spent some time recovering in Aine from our previous trip before we were on the road again. I would have been in high spirits if it weren’t for an unexpected addition to our party.

Princess Sulia had decided to attach herself to our band and brought an entire army of golden skinned flying fae along for the journey. I’d guess there were around eight-thousand of the winged terrors behind us, and they were nothing more than the vanguard. More Summer fae were out of my sight. I hadn’t the faintest clue what to do with them.

“We’d move faster without your mortal baggage,” Sulia sneered, her fiery hair crackled as she loomed over my shoulder.

Sulia no longer questioned me about war. It could’ve been a pleasant change if not for the fact that she’d chosen to denigrate my friends instead.

“They’re my friends,” I gripped the truce banner tighter as I replied.

The two heroes ignored her, and I couldn’t blame them for leaving me with Sulia. She treated me as an equal—but only in the loosest sense of the word.

“These mortals are a liability,” she insulted my friends.

Pandora tossed her silky white mane to the side like a banner trailing in the wind and snorted in disapproval.

“They’re fine,” I responded.

Winter had crept further into Summer’s lands, turning green fields to frozen wastelands.

“Both of them are cut from a lesser cloth,” she dismissed, “you hamper yourself to protect those spun from little more than glass.”

“Sounds lonely,” I commented offhand.

A minor fraction of my focus was spared for the flaming Princess. I didn’t care to hear her demean Roland and Yvette. I only deigned to answer her because she was too dangerous to otherwise risk offending.

“The passage of years will lead you to forget what it is like to be mortal,” she buzzed at me. “You will calcify into a cycle of your own.”

I’m counting the seconds until I can stop enduring this winged disaster.

“Then I should make the most of now,” I muttered back while gazing longingly at the horizon.

Sulia almost makes me long for the Prince of Nightfall. He’s pleasant in comparison.

“You are beyond the trappings of time,” she argued, “why do you bind yourself to those who will fade within a fraction of your years?”

It frustrated me how I could actually benefit from a nuanced perspective on immortality. The Princess of the High Noon… wasn’t that. I’d be tempted to interrogate the Queen of Summer if her presence didn’t terrify me. That remained true for all the fae that I expected had more encompassing philosophies. I’d drag the Wandering Bard to a corner and pull some answers out of her the next time she showed up.

“Should do more with them,” I countered.

Keep it together, Taylor. One war at a time. Just because she’s been at it like this for at least five hours is not an excuse to blow up part of Arcadia. Remember the army in the sky behind you.

“Without them, we’d already be at Skade’s walls,” Sulia snapped with a tone sharp enough to draw blood.

Perhaps I was being too judgemental of little miss murder machine. I’d spent so long verbally sparring with people who veiled their words at least three layers deep in metaphor that I did find her flavour of bluntness refreshing. It was a pity that this hammer wasn’t attached to somebody with a nice head. Everything that came out of her mouth was vitriolic.

“Aha!” Yvette exclaimed, “I’ve figured it out.” She looked at our confused faces and bit her lip, then coloured. |Not the time things. Or the Winter things. Or the Ratling things. The brands. They can be disabled. Now I wonder if… No, not like that? Can I use it with-”

Bless her heart.

“Yvie,” I smiled and interrupted her, “focus. Slave brands?”

“I can disable them,” her eyes roamed across the tempestuous sky as she confirmed my suspicions. “It’ll take some work to cast, but I figured it out. At least, I think I did. I’ll need to test on one of them to be sure. Now, if only I could-”

My shoulders relaxed a small amount at the news. I’d find a way for her to verify that. We wouldn’t be allowing the Tyrant to escape in the future.

“You should teach your pets not to speak out of turn,” Sulia’s wings flared as she interjected. “It reflects poorly on you when they don’t know their place.”

I’ve had enough of listening to her tear down good people.

“They’re not my-” my voice cut off.

Something felt off. I stared across the chequered bridge beyond the frozen cacti and the mounds of snow towards the fogged over horizon. Leaping lions, laughing foxes and other strange shapes traced themselves in the mist. Light spilled out from my eyes as I focused. Arcadia crystallized into something more real for a moment.

“Look,” I pointed as I changed the topic, “Winter’s army.”

Winter’s army advanced in crooked ranks. Deadwood fae marched with jagged limbs creaking as they moved. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows on the frost-covered ground. Pale winged figures supported them in the sky. I’d never been relieved to be facing down an army before. The novelty would wear off momentarily, but for now I allowed myself to relax. Their arrival prevented me from making a costly mistake.

Sulia’s lips curled. Her wings twitched with agitation as she spun towards her soldiers. She raised her hand and opened her mouth when I spotted a familiar one-eyed fae with a midnight black box under one arm. His other hand rested upon the hilt of his blade. Suddenly, he turned towards me and gave me a malevolent grin.

“Sulia,” I cautioned her, “the Prince of Nightfall is here.”

I cursed under my breath while I scanned the ragtag arrangement of Winter’s forces. There were no other credible threats to the Princess of High Noon. I required the Prince of Nightfall alive to fulfil my bargain. While in theory I wouldn’t need to uphold my promise if he perished, in practice that line of thinking had villainous leanings. I wanted my word to be worth something.

“His presence is anticipated,” she began, “it is imperative that-”

Sulia could kill him. She had all the tools to win a direct confrontation. I also couldn’t afford to betray her for more than just moral reasons. Could I use this? Ditching Sulia appealed to me. The three of us had free passage into Skade and she didn’t. We’d need to check that the Midnight Casket first, but… I’d guess the Sun had been relocated.

“Truce banner,” I interrupted and raised the object in question, “remember?”

Maybe if I framed it right? I needed to set the stage for a story that favoured Summer, but had the potential to favour Winter if Summer broke their word. I didn’t have a guarantee that it would work, but it was my best chance to untangle this mess without burying my own plans six feet under the ground.

“An easily rectified oversight,” she spread her wings as she dismissed my words.

Come on.

“He has the Midnight Casket,” I pressed, “we can negotiate.”

The Prince of Nightfall had no reason to allow Summer’s Sun out of Skade. I didn’t understand the shape of the story, but it provided a potential solution to my issue.

“Even better to strike soon,” Princess Sulia’s eyes hardened as she argued. “It is a pointless delay. The Prince of Nightfall is capricious and would never accept a trade.”

I couldn’t see the Tyrant or his army at all. He should be here. The story had room for him to sweep in at the last moment and rescue Winter from Summer’s forces, and I couldn’t see him at all. I guessed he expected that we’d find a counter to his last trolley problem and decided to find a new set of tracks, but… that didn’t fit my understanding of him. The Tyrant wouldn’t flee. I set aside my unease. I couldn’t do anything about any plots we were trapped in at present except for trying to decode them.

“Set a trap,” I cajoled.

I’ll be careful.

“We field a superior host,” she scowled as she retorted, “we don’t need to resort to such trickery.”

The faintest of pauses before her refusal exalted my efforts. Summer was the season of war. Strategy and Battlefield tactics were their element. She’d accede to my request if I proved it had even a sliver of strategic worth.

“New stories,” I urged her again, “you might lose.”

“The open field is Summer’s dominion. We do not lose. We scorch the earth before defeat takes root,” she denied.

The unsteady beat of her wings gave the lie to her certainty.

“Midnight Casket never worked either,” I pressed.

“The success of one old scheme says nothing about the validity of another,” she countered, but settled down on the ground beside me.

“See that heap,” I pointed at one of the mounds of snow. “We don’t know how many flecks of snow it’s made of. One, two, three… a hundred. Each one of those dunes is a different size, but they’re all still dunes.”

The mosaic in my mind blazed as I spoke. What? Why did those words appeal to… Oh, oh.

And after I went to all that effort to relegate any useful story which might transition my Name into something that I didn’t want into the first contingency.

“This metaphor is irrelevant to the army approaching us,” Sulia puckered her lips and folded her arms as she replied.

One of the discoveries my scribes had stumbled upon as part of their research had been plotting a poor man’s historical average for how long it took until a Name transitioned. A glance at the results had indicated I was an outlier. I should’ve already transitioned into something else. Past records of Aspirants were sparse and while there were records of them losing their Name, there weren’t any records of them transitioning.

“Mistakes are like the snow,” I explained. “They pile up. Best way forward is to make none.”

I’d done a little introspection to learn more. Evaluating which stories that I knew appealed to my Name had led me to an obvious conclusion: Aspirants tried to do something impossible. It followed that an Aspirant transitioned if they either succeeded at it or lost their purpose.

“A single failure doesn’t imply the collapse of the whole system,” Sulia derided, “Our entire existence supports the contrary.”

The discovery had soured me for some time before I realized there were some upsides to it. Possessing a challenging Name to transition meant that I had far more time to prepare. I could prune away stories that I didn’t want to become stuck in. I’d known a surprising number of stories that qualified. Most of them were some flavour of paradox.

“Things changed,” I retorted.

I doubted that I’d transition my Name by accident — the likelihood of achieving the impossible deliberately was low enough already — but I wouldn’t leave it to chance. I had no interest in being the Bumbling Eternal Clockmaker, or whatever the person who makes perpetual motion machines by accident would be.

“The Garden’s stories have always corrected themselves in the past,” Sulia said, “this time will be no different.”

Trying to argue her down was a waste of my breath. What else could I try? How about exploiting her pride and vanity? I caught Roland’s eyes and inclined my head.

“A good general would set a trap,” Roland commented.

Princess Sulia did whatever a Summer Fae does that isn’t freezing, but implies the cessation of motion. It was fascinating to watch as even the flames in her hair stopped flickering.

I bit back a smile.

“Very well,” Sulia hissed at Roland. “We will entrench ourselves. But it is only my respect for your guarantor that stays my hand.”

And you think mortals are useless.

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Princess Sulia barked out orders to the Duke of Green Orchards, then matched her pace to our own. The four of us proceeded alone towards Winter’s forces.

“Let me speak,” I suggested, “he’s more likely to listen.”

Fishes would think water was toxic if Sulia tried to sell it to them. I needed her to remain silent so that I could drag this out a little. Long enough so that she acted by impulse, but not long enough that Summer would gain an advantage.

“You may take the lead,” she acquiesced, “but I shan’t hold my tongue.”

That’ll have to be good enough.

The chequered bridge rattled like tiles under our mount’s hooves as we travelled towards the Winter fae. We halted halfway. The reeds behind us towered like pillars supporting the rooftop of a cathedral. Granted, it was a cathedral with a violent conflagration for a roof.

Deadwood creatures jeered from the opposing side of the bridge. A horrible realization flashed through my head. What if Sulia could sense Summer’s Sun? It was possible. The Midnight Casket would need to contain the orb for that to be true.

By the Gods, this better not go to the hells because I forgot something so obvious. No, better to verify. Steady yourself. There’s no evidence that everything’s about to go wrong.

“Is it in there?” I asked the angry arsonist before the Prince of Nightfall arrived.

“The Midnight Casket clouds my senses,” she admitted.

“Do you sense it anywhere else?”

“No,” she stated, “but I’d be incapable of sensing it within Skade.”

Tension drained out of my shoulders. I whispered a prayer of relief at the back of my mind. We’d check if the Midnight Casket contained Summer’s Sun, but… the odds weren’t good. Not if Larat brought it here. He would’ve left the Sun secure inside the Spire of Darkest Dreams. It would be easy for us to stage a heist there while most of Winter’s heavy hitters were embroiled with fighting the Summer fae.

I wasn’t sure whether to smile or frown when a single figure under an icy banner rode out to meet us.

“Truce,” I called out. “The three of us are here to mediate between Summer and Winter. Defeat shadow the army of whoever breaks it. Let’s discuss that box.”

“A truce,” the one-eyed fae drummed his pale fingers against the abyssal casket as he drawled. “How refreshing to find wisdom travelling through the frost, even if it’s borrowed and threadbare.”

The Midnight Casked creeped me out whenever I looked at it or sensed it in general. It had no reflection and actively pushed back against the Light. The sensation was… off. A defilement. Like part of me had been desecrated. Given enough time and I could see myself loathing the object’s blasphemous existence. It was impure, unholy, wrong.

“Try a better lie,” I muttered.

“Very well,” his smile flickered for a moment before he answered. “I agree to your terms.”

Both of us turned towards the fuming fae clad in greenery.

“Truce until this mockery of a negotiation ends and not one moment longer,” she snapped. “Now return that which you stole.”

Normally when I call someone brilliant it’s a complement but… I suspect that Sulia only glows like that when she’s about to throw a tantrum.

“Winter keeps what it takes,” Larat taunted with a grin that fit the dragon who abducted an extra princess.

Sulia twitched towards the box but restrained herself at the last moment.

If only it was that easy.

“Only if you can hold it,” I countered.

“Aren’t you eager for that which is no longer yours?” he mocked. “Never fear. It lies sealed away, waiting to be put to use.”

“This conversation is going nowhere,” I raised my hand and my voice.

“It is as I warned you,” the fiery Princess declared as she stepped towards Larat, “there is nothing to be gained by trading barbs with these abominations.”

“Prove the Sun is in there,” I demanded.

Come on. I don’t need to do anything fancy. I just need to see the orb and to bait Sulia into attacking without it being obvious.

“There are less idiotic ways to take my own life,” the one-eyed fae replied, “should I wish to do so.”

I glanced towards my two companions. They caught my eyes and stiffened. Time to season this salad with mortal offence before the army arrived to eat it.

“We aren’t here to debate the merits of your death-” Princess Sulia snorted as Roland spoke, “but rather the ownership of the Midnight Casket and it’s contents.”

“Can you show me the Sun,” Yvette perked up and interjected out of nowhere. “I’m looking for another reference for Summer’s magic. Abstract flowers only go so far, and I had other worries when-”

This is your chance to be a snarky teenager with my approval. Don’t blow it.

“Does your nattering never cease?” Sulia’s fingers sparked as she snapped at Yvette. “It is not spirit but suicide to test my patience. Return it,” she flared gold and turned towards Larat. “Your touch alone defiles it. The heart of Summer is no trinket to be bartered over in a market.”

“The artefacts should go back to their owners,” Yvette said. “The Prince of Nightfall can keep his empty box, and Princess Sulia can take the Sun.”

… And she blew it. This wasn't the right setup for the Judgement of Solomon.

“The inside of the Midnight Casket looks better when lit up,” Larat drawled. “You could say that they’re married in purpose at last.”

“There’s little point to negotiating if you aren’t willing to prove you have the Sun,” Roland argued.

“Isn’t there?” Larat taunted, “I thought we were negotiating the terms of your defeat.” His grin widened, “the old order is broken. A new tale is being spun. All of you will look far prettier once your arms are shackled in Winter’s white.”

Couldn’t the Tyrant not have ditched his new “spouse?”

“That’s not happening,” I replied.

“Are Summer’s chains snug around your wrists?” he mocked. “I can see the silken knots you’ve tangled yourself with.” The Prince of Nightfall reached into a pocket with his free hand and pulled out a pipe. It burned cold moments later. “Your companions can have the Midnight Casket if you agree to spend the remainder of your years inside a crystal ball.”

“I thought ma was the one trying to do the impossible,” Yvette muttered. “Talk about awful deals.” she reached into her pocket dimension and pulled out a slice of cake — of all things — then started to nibble at it. “What?” she mumbled defensively as the rest of us all stared at her. “This is going nowhere, and I wanted cake.”

We’re talking about appropriate goods to bring into Arcadia later. Along with this attitude being completely out of line with the severity of our situation.

“Summer’s victory on this field is much like that cake,” the one-eyed fae said, “it’s transient. An old age passes,” he puffed at the pipe, “and another dawns. The breaking of the circle lies in choices not yet made.”

“All this pontification is meaningless,” Sulia snapped. “I’ll tolerate the insult no longer.”

“There is no insult save that which-” Larat’s voice cut off as Sulia shrieked.

What do we do? We didn’t see the contents of the reliquary before she lost her cool.

The world ignited as Sulia threw herself towards the Midnight Casket.

The bridge splintered into three fragmented paths under the heat.

I cast a barrier between us and the Princess of High Noon.

The flames dispersed against it.

Another wave of fire cascaded across the battlefield from the forces behind us. It crashed against both my shields and opposing boundaries of ice. I spared a brief glance around the battlefield. Summer had used to opportunity to form up and assaulted Winter’s forces in a three-pronged attack. The army of deadwood soldiers was retreating, only for another Winter army to strike at the assault force.

I… didn’t have a good enough grasp of battlefield strategy to evaluate the outcome.

Roland’s hand darted inside his coat as he stiffened and surveyed the scene.

He’s probably preparing to Confiscate the Sun if I’m wrong about it being empty.

Should we stay to check the box if Princess Sulia succeeded in claiming it, or should we leave? We could also try stealing the box without confirmation, but… I felt that was a mistake. It would add more layers of difficulty to negotiation. I might be wrong. No. Even if I was wrong… leaving held more promise. I couldn’t even guess how long it would take for this fight to resolve now that Yvette’s story had fallen through.

“We’re leaving!” I exclaimed.

The Prince of Nightfall let out a harrowing laugh as he danced back into the sky on platforms of ice. Glacial spears tore through the air and struck against incandescent walls. Sulia threw herself into the sky.

Now, to get out of here.

A disk of Light settled beneath our mount’s hooves.

I heaved.

Yvette squawked around her cake as she jolted. Crumbs smeared themselves against her freckles, while her other hand traced rapid, precise symbols into the air.

“Don’t attack anyone!” I ordered at the top of my lungs, “we’re holding a truce flag!”

Flashes of orange and blue scattered around the landscape.

Crackle.

Bang!

Lightning arced and rippled above us. One of the golden flag bearers toppled from the sky. Arrows hissed across the battlefield. I watched as the failed negotiation devolved into full on war in a matter of heartbeats.

“We shouldn’t leave!” Roland exclaimed, “not until we know for sure the box is truly empty.”

Balls of fire streamed towards the Winter Fae. I raised my hand and threw up a shimmering silver dome. The inferno roiled over the top of my barrier and hissed as it struck against twisted trees and walls of frost. The world held its breath between one barrage and the next.

“It won’t be,” I denied in the interval.

A harsh corona erupted from Sulia as she blazed like the sun high up in the sky. Streams of fire and ash poured out from her, in stark contrast to the vines that wrapped around her body. Reality rippled under the heat and the reeds behind us blackened then disappeared entirely. The smell of molten dirt reached my nose as shadows stained themselves onto the now glassy landscape.

My forcefield shattered against another harsh detonation that emanated from Sulia, only for the now weakened flames to be mitigated by a shield of frost. Roland shuddered from behind the shield and muttered words of prayer. There was a ripple as I attempted to summon another shield, only for it to buckle under another detonation. Smoke trailed from the truce banner.

This is ridiculous.

“We don’t know that for sure!” Yvette protested around frosting. “Maybe we should stay. I don’t want to travel to Winter only to find out we wasted our time.”

A stray shard of ice struck against an icy wall as Roland’s held an ivory trinket before himself. Symbols wrapped themselves around Yvette as her dirty fingers danced in the air with one hand and withdrew a pendulum from her pocket dimension with the other. A ghost vanished as my silver barrier manifested once again.

“Better that than to pass at the opportunity,” I challenged. “The Spire is empty. We can always return to the battlefield later if I’m wrong.”

Our group hurtled through the air perpendicular to the conflict. Neither side aimed at us, but that meant little considering the sheer volume of power brought to bear. Summer’s next volley poured across the battlefield like fast moving treacle, only to be swallowed by banks of shadow and snow.

“There is-”

Roland’s voice cut off as the world lurched. A tornado of ice ripped up trees as it tore across the battlefield and smashed itself against my barrier. The force alone sent my ball spiralling through the air. I clung to my reins as our poor horses reared back. Purple symbols rippled outwards as Yvette’s incantation ended. The tornado detonated. Icy splinters fanned away from us as we hurtled further away from the fight.

“This is a mess,” Yvette wailed, “a mess. Such a mess! Just look,” she reached into her storage and withdrew a cloth and dabbed the cake out of her eyes. “How are we supposed to fix this?” she gestured with the cloth at all the warring soldiers before storing it again.

… We also need to talk about priorities. Removing cake from your face can wait until after the fight ends.

A ripple of force stole the momentum from the next series of Winter’s frozen lances that approached as Yvette concentrated and incanted.

“This is a mistake,” Roland complained. “Do you think Winter could manufacture another Midnight Casket?”

“No,” I admitted, “but they wouldn’t bring it here. The Tyrant must’ve given them an alternative.”

“He also could’ve persuaded the Prince of Nightfall to bring it here,” Roland protested.

Conversation stalled as the next wave of Summer’s conflagration lit up the sky. I threw up barriers beyond our sphere between us and the warring armies. Better that being sent spinning again. Actually, could I do something about the momentum?

“I don’t think so,” I denied. “Larat’s Dream hasn’t changed.”

“That’s not evidence if the Sun doesn’t play a part in his Dream,” he ran a hand through his hair as he argued.

A scorching wind slammed against an icy blizzard in front of us. Colour bled out of the world where both elemental powers met. A wave of Light rippled away from me and struck against both constructs. They dissipated under the onslaught.

“There’s a chance I’m wrong,” I agreed.

“Then why do you insist we continue towards Skade instead of turn back and fight?” he inquired.

“This war will take a while to resolve,” I gestured towards the seemingly endless waves of soldiers. “There’s time for us to search the Spire and return to the front later. Being wrong now is safer than being right and passing on the opportunity.”

Roland’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he gave a grudging nod.

I pulled our party low as we skirted the edge of Winter’s forces and flew towards the Twisted Forest. Exchanges became less violent the further we drew from the epicentre. All of us sighed when we passed the last of the conflict and into the lines of trees.

We passed successive lines of troops. Deadwood soldiers, winged unicorns, a pair of dukes. My unease spiked as we approached Skade. Forts we’d paid no heed to on our journey to Summer lay abandoned. So many fae were all on the march. It had to be almost all of them.

Where is the Tyrant?

I kept expecting Kairos Theodosian’s malevolent red eye to appear from the darkness and turn the tides of the conflict.

He didn’t.

What is he plotting, and can I work around it?

The trouble with Kairos Theodosian was that he had a Sin like Dream. Part of his Dream had changed to include spiting me from the moment he laid eyes on me. The nature of the alteration implied that he’d inferred more about me than he could learn from a glance alone. I didn’t know the specifics of the Sin, but I’d learned what I could.

The Tyrant had three parts to his Dream. To slight everyone in the way that hurts them most, to live, and to be entertaining to the Gods Below while achieving the first two. The second Dream would be pitiable if it weren’t for the first and third.

My sphere descended as we neared the walls of Skade. We passed through the storied gates and Escheresque streets again before boarding the slightly-less-skeletal-than-before boat. The other two expected we’d need to fly across the waters. It didn’t surprise me when the galleon sailed with no captain at the wheel.

Lightning arced between darkening clouds that churned in the sky above. Haunting voices from past regrets crooned at me the longer I examined the Spire. Yvette hunched her shoulders and grabbed at the edge of her purple robe. Roland stiffened, then relaxed. A tranquil expression stole across his features.

The Spire beckoned.

We reached the base of the structure and opened the door.

Three heroes shuffled into a darkened tower.

Three heroes shuffled into somewhere else.