《Knights, Witches, and Fighter Jets - Rewrite》


 Chapter 1: Circus Act

    "Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on the marvelous, the stupendous, the world-famous FLYING MAN!"


    The spotlights focused on the other wooden tower at the far end of the field, revealing Seth strapped to a giant wing constructed of wood and cloth. The audience gasped when the gas lamps on the ground activated, illuminating a steam-powered prop made from foam and cloth which created the convincing illusion of spinning saw blades. Quinn''s hands shook as he grasped the release lever, waiting for his brother to give the signal.


    Seth secured the clasp on his fur-lined leather helmet, lowered brass-rimmed glass goggles over his eyes, and reached out to grasp the grips on the leading edges of the wings. Finally, he stomped one foot three times.


    Quinn suppressed his fear just long enough to pull the lever. The sack of stones, which had previously been secured at the end of a wooden crane, began to plummet down from Quinn''s tower. The cable attached to the apex of Seth''s craft snapped taught and yanked him away. The wings caught the air and billowed slightly as Seth leapt off the platform and took flight.


    At first he flew straight forward along the path of the cable, but with practiced timing Seth released the cable just before the weight struck the field. In that instant, he was moving without any force pulling him. Please don''t nose dive, Quinn thought. Don''t nose dive! Don''t nose dive! Don''t nose dive!


    The kite featured weights fixed to the tail of the central boom. This had the effect of causing the tail to sink, which in turn caused the nose to rise just above the horizon. Seth''s arms shook violently as the wooden frame buckled, causing the kite to rock gently. Quinn could see the strain etched on his brother''s face. Ladies in the crowd screamed as Seth just barely cleared the fake saw blades. He pitched up to slow down before his legs impacted the ground.


    "For the first time in history," the showman proclaimed, "Man has conquered the sky at the risk of certain doom! History has been made, and you are all witnesses!"


    The crowd cheered.


    Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. Strictly speaking, the showman''s claims were untrue. Seth frequently practiced the act during the day. He had also performed the act on several nights as the circus straddled the small towns on the north coast of the Theocracy. Neither Quinn nor Seth could explain why the kite sometimes decided to dive straight into the ground. The weights on the tail seemed to help, but it was something that Quinn could never quite feel comfortable with. We need to ask an engineer, he thought.


    He removed the cloth cover from his lantern and began to descend his tower''s ladder. Below, the spotlights followed Seth as he trotted across the field toward the stadium bleachers. The men in the crowd poured over the barrier and dropped into the field. They sized Seth and raised him over their heads, cheering and singing, offering small bills in the local currency.


    Quinn avoided the mob and escaped backstage. It was much darker, lit only by flickering lamps at the top of small wooden towers. Gantries, ropes, props and cages were scattered haphazardly. Men and even a few women walked around mostly in their smallclothes, some of them hastily preparing their costumes for the next act.


    He lingered until the circus staff carried the giant wooden wing backstage. He inspected it, carefully tracing every rope and piece of cloth under the lamplight, looking for damage. The cloth was attached to the wooden frame with sailor''s knots, each ending in a loop and a spiral around itself, slathered in dry glue. The rigging held fast as Quinn tugged at it.


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    Quinn was still inspecting the craft when Seth arrived, puffing on his pipe. "Hey Quinn, guess what?" he said dryly.


    "Yeah?"


    "The ladies are going to line up for us tonight! Haha!"


    "For you maybe," Quinn said. "You were the one everyone saw risking your neck up on that thing. How was it? Was it easier to control tonight?"


    "I''m afraid not," Seth replied. He sat down on a bench by a spool of rope and took a flask out of his jacket. "It required all my strength to control it. The nose tends to want to sink. For now, we should celebrate, yeah?" He took a swig and handed it to Quinn.


    The stuff tasted like vanilla and oak. They passed the flask back and forth a few times before the showman arrived. As always, the pot-bellied man was wearing an expensive suit and a wide-brimmed black hat.


    "Good show my boy!" he said. "Brilliant! Brilliant!"


    "Do you need something?" Seth asked.


    "Quinn, my boy, that was an excellent performance tonight, but we need to think bigger. Audiences are not going to line up to see this act forever. We need twists, turns, loops, maybe even a ship''s propeller attached to the thing."


    Seth grunted but said nothing.


    "Right now that is impossible," Quinn said. "There is something fundamental that needs to change. I think we will need more resources. Academic resources, specifically."


    "Nonsense," the showman said.


    "Hear me out," Quinn insisted. "Maybe it would be possible to attach a propeller to the thing, but under no circumstance could we attach a steam engine and still remain in control. Sir, have you heard about the University up in White Chasm? I hear it''s the only school in the world that trains commoners like me and my brother. If we enrolled there..."


    "You don''t have auras," the showman observed.


    "We can lease them from the bank," Quinn offered.


    "That would cost a fortune every month," the showman said. "What the entire circus earns in a year, a hundred times over, every month, just to lease the smallest aura the banks offer."


    "Maybe we can go to one of the Heritors."


    The showman snatched the flask from Seth and drank deeply, then stalked off without returning it. "I don''t want to hear either of you mention the Heritors ever again."


    For a moment it looked like Seth was going to lose control. When the showman was out of earshot, he said: "I don''t know about White Chasm, but I''m ready to leave this circus. That bastard isn''t willing to risk his own skin, but he''s happy to risk ours. He doesn''t deserve us."


    "I agree," Quinn said. "Maybe we could get involved with the military? I heard that some Heritor kidnapped some other Heritor."


    "The Blue Wolf," Seth said.


    "Right, that Blue Wolf woman," Quinn agreed. "Some Heritor family marches through the Theocracy, trying to get her back. It''s only a matter of time before the Theocracy sends an army to contest their advance. Armies need information. Enemy army movements, supply line locations. If we could just demonstrate the potential of a flying machine for scouting, it could completely change warfare as we know it."


    Seth nodded. "I like the idea. Military men are real risk takers, gambling with their lives. And girls want more than words, they want real sacrifices. Speaking of girls, let''s head into town and try to pick up girlfriends, yeah?"


    Quinn sighed. "Even if we do manage to slip away, there is no way we would be able to bring the kite with us. I''m going to head to the workshop and make copies of our diagrams."


    "Suit yourself," Seth said as he turned and walked away.


    Quinn hoisted the kite off the ground and began to walk back to the workshop. As he was making his first step he realized the lamplight was casting a shadow.


    A human shadow.


    He looked up. The silhouette of a female figure stood above him on the wooden scaffolding. Her body was shrouded in total darkness, but her eyes were glowing purple, and her face was scarred by glowing teal fractures radiating away from those purple eyes. She rotated slightly and he saw her face reflecting the light. She had a knowing smirk on a youthful face framed by dark blue hair.


    "Excuse me, can I help you?" he asked, loud enough for her to hear. But she did not reply. She turned away and vanished into the darkness beyond the lamps.


    Who was that? he wondered. And those eyes... An oculomancer, he realized. Quinn frowned. How did she get backstage? The showman didn''t have any oculomancers on staff. Why was that woman here? And how much had she heard?

 Chapter 2: In the Mountains

    Quinn found Seth at a tavern in the nearby village, and instead of returning to the circus, they plotted to sneak away in the night. Seth had always been the better talker, and after a few candid conversations with the locals, they decided to hitch a ride on one of the many cargo trains that passed through the region. Sharp switchbacks in the rail line forced the trains to slow down east of the town. Armed with a lantern, two bedrolls, a fresh change of clothes, and some dry bread and cheese, the two brothers set off into the knee-high ferns of the forest in search of the switchbacks.


    When they came upon the empty tracks, they crouched in the ferns to avoid being seen and doused the lantern. Some time later, a steam engine slowly but dutifully chugged by. Quinn could see the silhouettes of the fireman and the engineer against the yellow light of the engine''s cabin. Bravely, Seth raced forward and leapt up onto the ladder leading to the gantry on the second boxcar behind the engine. With significantly less bravery, Quinn followed. Once inside the car, they set out their bedrolls and slept.


    It was sometime in the night that Quinn knew something was wrong. The time between each clank clank of the train''s wheels was slowly dilating. The churning hiss of the steam engine was gone, replaced by the grinding metallic screech of the train''s wheels. In his bones he felt the seeping cold which came from sleeping outside at night.


    "Brother," he said. "Brother! Wake up. Something''s wrong."


    Seth groaned. "It''s cold."


    Quinn scrambled to his feet in the darkness and felt for the latch to the forward boxcar door. It was so dark outside that he could not see the snowflakes that blasted his face as soon as the door was open. We must be high in the mountains, he realized. Seth struck a match and lit their lantern, which created enough light to reveal the steel walkway leading to the door to the next car.


    "We need to get out of here," Quinn said. "Without the engine, we could freeze to death."


    "I''ll go talk to the engineer," Seth announced.


    "No!" Quinn protested, but it was too late. Seth marched forward and started beating the ice off the latch to the next door. The lantern illuminated the closest of the snow-clad trees, which faded like ghosts into the fog as the train screeched down the track.


    Hastily, Quinn chased his brother into the next car, through the narrow gaps between stacks of lumber. Blessed warmth radiated from the steam engine when they arrived at the front of the train. The windows to the forward cabin were illuminated from within, and the shadow of a man danced on the trees. Seth began ascending the ladder.


    "This is a bad idea," Quinn cried.


    Seth began pounding on the door, and he continued pounding until it creaked open. An old man with a lantern stepped out and said: "Who the hell are you?" He saw Quinn attempting to ascend the ladder and he scowled. "Bah. Children! Get inside before you freeze to death."


    Once inside the cabin, Seth asked: "Why did you stop the train?"


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    "I didn''t stop the train," the old man replied. "It''s the fireman''s fault."


    He pointed to a second man at the front of the cabin, standing near the brass-rimmed steam gauges and controls above the boiler backhead. While the old man, who Quinn assumed to be the engineer, wore dark overalls and an oil-stained stained shirt, the fireman wore pitch black robes ornamented with silvery red filigree.


    "Stowaways?" the fireman asked.


    "Stowaways," the engineer agreed. "From Lyn, by the looks of it. What are you kids doing here? Where are you going?"


    "The Theocracy," Quinn answered. "Or the Empire. I don''t think it matters. We were working in a circus. Now we''re trying to find an army."


    The engineer looked completely dumbfounded by this response.


    "You didn''t answer my question," Seth said.


    "The engine stopped working because my ethermancy stopped working," the fireman said flatly.


    "Ridiculous," the engineer said. "I''ve been working in this business for longer than you''ve been alive, child. Trains don''t stop because ethermancy stops working."


    "Calm down sir," the fireman said. "How do you think I feel? The Aden family trusted me to use this aura to help run their railroad. When I get back to White Chasm, the Adens are going to make me stand before an oculomancer and explain why I lost their train in the forest."


    "You''re from White Chasm?" Quinn asked, suddenly excited.


    "That''s enough," the engineer snapped. "We answered your question, now you''ll both keep quiet and wait for the engine to get started again."


    "The only reason I can think of," the fireman continued, "is that there is another Heritor nearby, one with a very big aura."


    Seth and Quinn both slid down to the floor by the door and waited. The engineer, to his credit, was very diligent in his investigation of the various steam gauges and dials. Quinn took the opportunity to study the fireman. Black and red are the colors of House Aden, he thought. For as long as anyone could remember, the Aden clan had always lorded over the nation of Lyn from their Hanging Throne in the city of White Chasm.


    His excitement about meeting a man from White Chasm quickly faded when he reasoned it out. All steam engines in the entire world were operated by a fireman with an aura. He estimated that it might be economical to lease an aura from the bank in order to operate a railroad. But the Adens were Heritors, and they no doubt had dozens of small auras to dole out to their business partners. It was not unreasonable to expect to find a White Chasm aura operating a train so close to Lyn.


    His contemplations were interrupted by shouts and whistles from outside. They both stood to peer out the window at the commotion. A small army of mounted soldiers swarmed around the steam engine, illuminating the forest with their torches. They all wore dark blue uniforms and shining brass helmets. The commanding officer began shouting, using a voice worthy of a ship''s captain in a thunderstorm: "By the order of Princess Lucia Aden of Lyn, ownership of this transport is hereby transferred to the armies of King Sullivan Blaine of Cloudsea. The fireman operating this transport is hereby ordered to report to Princess Lucia immediately."


    "Problem solved," the fireman mused.


    Not wanting to be left behind when the engine was abandoned, they followed the fireman down to the forest floor. Many of the soldiers trotted off to search for supplies amongst the boxcars, leaving behind a single woman riding a horse and some northerners with a cart. The lone woman wore hooded black robes with purple epaulets. Quinn froze when her gaze shifted toward them. Her eyes glowed bright purple even through the dense fog.


    "Honored oculomancer," the old engineer said. "I would like to report a crime. These young men are stowaways."


    "You are not a Heritor," the oculomancer snapped. "Take your complaints to the local constabulary if you must. Young men, I can tell from your bloodline that you are from eastern Lyn. You are invited to serve your princess." She pointed to the cart. "Make yourself useful in the camp and perhaps you will be paid enough to buy new coats. Or freeze to death, it is of no consequence to me."

 Chapter 3: The Mender

    Burdened with rations taken from the train, the little wooden cart struggled down the rutted switchbacks of the trail leading out of the forest. It was too dark to see anything, even without the fog. There were extra blankets in the cart, so Seth and Quinn were both protected from the elements, and by the time they broke out of the forest the night''s chill had fled. They came upon a field of pale stones, barely visible in the darkness. Distant sounds were muffled by the light snowfall. The wind smelled of death.


    As the darkness lifted Quinn made the unfortunate discovery that the field was covered not in pale stones, but in corpses. Mud mixed with blood and bile in huge puddles that consumed the path, forcing the little cart to veer off onto the banks on either side. A sudden break in the clouds overhead revealed, for just a few moments, a frigid blue sky. A shaft of golden sunlight burned away the fog toward the west, illuminating a white tent nestled in the frosted grass at the apex of a nearby hill.


    Pairs of young men carried stretchers up and down that hill. The oculomancer trotted up alongside the cart on her horse. "The tent hasn''t moved," she muttered. Then, louder, she said: "Young men, Heritor Kiera resides at the top of that hill. She has a kind heart, and she will pay well for every one of her father''s soldiers brought to her for healing. You won''t find better pay anywhere in the camp, I promise."


    "I thought ethermancy didn''t work," Quinn said.


    "Maybe she isn''t using ethermancy?" Seth offered.


    The oculomancer said nothing. She kicked her horse into a canter and left the cart behind. Seth hopped off the cart and tumbled in the grass. Quinn tossed their bedroll packs down, and Seth caught them both effortlessly without looking. Unlike his brother, Quinn carefully clambered off the back of the cart.


    Even before they reached the top of the hill, they came close enough to hear the screaming within the tent. As they approached the top, a pair of young men carrying a stretcher intercepted them. They were about the same age as Seth and Quinn. The unconscious soldier between them had been eviscerated. His belly had been opened like a huge bloody smile, his bowels tumbled out across his bloody stumps for legs, and what remained of his lower legs was stuffed into his armpits.


    "I think it''s over for that fellow," Seth whispered.


    When they reached the threshold of the tent the two boys rushed through and dumped the man onto a shining brass table. There was so much blood in the tent that Quinn mistook it for some type of sacrificial altar.


    A blonde woman stood in the center of the room, her once-white hospital uniform so soaked with blood that it had nearly turned black. With a face filled with determination, her hands began to glow with shimmering green light. For a fraction of a second, Quinn saw the ethermancy at work. It looked like faint cyan fog, floating lazily, filling every corner of the tent. Suddenly it was sucked toward the blonde woman, where it passed through her heart and vanished. Green light burst from her hands, enveloping the broken soldier with a green haze.


    As if they had a life of their own, the man''s bowels began to rearrange themselves within the empty cavity of his belly. His lower legs slowly floated down, reorienting themselves, the bones and muscles and tendons regrowing, reattaching. With a brilliant flash of green light the man convulsed and then gasped for breath. Immediately he released a terrified, blood-curdling scream.


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    Seth and Quinn stood just outside the doorway of the tent, completely dumbfounded by what they had just witnessed. After a few moments the man seemed to calm down, and after a few gasps for breath, he rasped: "My princess. My princess. Thank you." And then he broke down and began sobbing. A pair of plump nurses plucked him off the table and carried him away.


    "Astonishing, isn''t it?" a kindly voice asked.


    It was a graying man with narrow eyes and a warm smile. He wore dark blue robes, darker even than the soldiers'' uniforms, which Quinn found somewhat familiar.


    "I was certain he was doomed," Seth admitted.


    "The Princess Kiera is an exceptional mender," the man replied. "By the grace of Mother Summer, the Princess has discovered the strength to perform such miracles. Forgive me. I serve Princess Kiera as the chief of her personal staff. Are you both Lucia''s men?"


    "We are now," Seth said vaguely. "We''ve come to help out. With the injured soldiers, I mean."


    "I will add you to the rotation. It takes three or four teams to carry a single soldier all the way from the front lines. We also rotate each pair of runners to prevent any one pair from spending too much time close to the front line."


    "Everyone is exposed to the same risk," Seth said happily.


    The old man took their names and sent them on their way. As they were walking down the hill, Quinn whispered: "Brother, there was a Heritor in that tent."


    "I saw her," Seth said. "However, I am absolutely certain that she would not be interested in our flying machine."


    "What makes you say that?"


    "Please try and empathize with her, brother. She is a mender, not a soldier. If we gave her the designs for our flying machine, she would correctly assume that we are trying to make a new weapon."


    "Maybe we could come up with a flying machine that could be used to transport injured soldiers?" Quinn insisted.


    "That would need to come later, I think. I was the one who flew our kite. I was the one who took that risk. Can we both agree that, even if we succeed in inventing a flying machine, it would be very dangerous, potentially for many years? That level of risk is something that soldiers on the front line could tolerate, but not injured soldiers in need of a mender."


    "But there is a Heritor, right there, at the top of that hill. Can''t we at least try?"


    "No," Seth said firmly. "Don''t mention that poor woman again. We found our army. I''m sure that there will be plenty of other Heritors lurking around here. Maybe we can find one that doesn''t spend all day soaked in the blood of screaming soldiers."


    As they descended the grassy hill, a handful of soldiers approached from the opposite direction. The lead soldier had hair the color of burned coral, and he wore a full set of shining plate armor. His spear, which was easily a head taller than the man himself, appeared to be crafted from a swirling blend of metallic blue and crystalline red. Three Blaine family soldiers marched behind the man with their rifles held across their breasts.


    Together, the three soldiers dragged a fourth man bound in thick steel chains. When he slipped on the muddy grass they yanked hard, causing him to scream. His hair was very dark green in places, but mostly oily and bloody brown. His robes resembled the ones worn by the fireman on the train, except instead of being black and red, they were white and dark green. His face and his fine robes were both completely soaked in blood.


    "I''m a Heritor!" the young man cried. "I have rights! I HAVE RIGHTS!"


    This provoked the tall man with the spear to spin around and smash his face in. Bloody teeth scattered across the grassy hill. His eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness, his mouth drooping open to release a waterfall of blood.


    "Collect those teeth," the man with the spear bellowed, pointing at Seth and Quinn. "Yes, YOU. Kiera will want them. Stop looking at me like that, you idiots. DO AS I COMMAND."

 Chapter 4: The Blue Wolf

    The two young men from Lyn complied. They had that look common to Lucia''s men: dark brown hair and bright green eyes. They both wore overalls and thin jackets in drab colors. Commoners, obviously, probably brothers, and most likely loyal to their princess and willing to work. Indeed, the two boys sauntered off to search for the bloody teeth, while Zachary continued up the hill to Kiera''s tent.


    When they arrived at the tent, Old King Sullivan''s men dragged the unconscious form of Maxius the Younger, by his chains, up onto Kiera''s operating table. Lucia''s men dashed in and set the bloody teeth on the table, before vanishing as silent as master servants. Kiera glanced at them with some curiosity, but then dutifully began healing Maxius in the usual way.


    "You did this to him," Kiera observed.


    "I did," Zachary admitted.


    If she had wanted to chastise him, she refrained from doing so. It only took a few seconds before life was restored to the ravaged Heritor on the table. When he opened his eyes and saw Kiera he started laughing.


    "Kiera, is that you?" Maxius asked. "You always did have a kind heart."


    Two plump nurses rushed in to fetch the patient. "Get him cleaned up," Zachary said. "Cut off his robes and dress him in furs. Shave all the hair off his head."


    "I have rights!" Maxius insisted.


    "Do not follow his instructions," Zachary continued. "Do not believe his claims. You are free to gag him if he makes too much noise."


    "Yes Sir Zachary," one of the nurses said. They both curtsied and then plucked the Heritor off the operating table amidst a litany of protests and complaints. Two of Kiera''s haulers sprinted into the room and dumped another screaming victim on the table.


    "I''ll leave you to your work," Zachary said. Then he left.


    He summoned a horse and rode to the east toward Castle Noxus. Kiera''s hauler teams served as brief and silent companions on his journey. The front lines were unchanged when he arrived, bathed in the light of a blue sky but otherwise ominous because of the blood and broken bodies. Old King Sullivan''s men, gleaming blue under navy banners, were holding the line against the Noxus family soldiers in dark green uniforms. The Noxus soldiers were still attempting to siege the castle, but King Sullivan himself had smashed the siege and was busy setting up an encampment just outside the castle gates. The local garrison was missing from the walls, most likely to avoid the ample rifle fire that filled the air.


    King Sullivan looked resplendent in his immaculate military uniform, firm and defiant in spite of his advanced age. He was flanked by his top general officers. Lucia Aden sulked nearby under layers and layers of red robes. The Eyes of Empire, wearing hooded black robes with purple epaulets, loomed over the gathering atop her fine mare. Zachary''s own horse became ornery upon seeing the mare, so he turned the beast over into the care of the nearby soldiers and stalked into the gathering on foot.


    "Sir Zachary," King Sullivan said. "Did you find him?"


    "Yes sir," Zachary reported. "I found Maxius the Younger hiding among the Noxus soldiers to the south of the castle."


    "Was he able to use ethermancy?" the King asked.


    "He did not possess an aura," Zachary replied. "Like our own ethermancers, the Noxus family ethermancers were unable to use their abilities. Either that or I killed them too quickly."


    "Where is he?" Lucia demanded.


    She removed the layers of red hood to reveal her face. Lucia Aden was, in Zachary''s estimation, a somewhat ugly young woman. Her face was too narrow. Her front teeth were too large, and when she spoke or smiled she gave the impression of being somewhat stupid. Like all the Heritors of House Aden, her hair was the color of midnight, tinged with a blueish sheen in the correct light.


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    "I took him to Princess Kiera''s tent. Her nurses are cleaning him up right now."


    "I''ll geld him," Lucia announced. "I''ll get Kiera to heal him and then I''ll geld him again."


    "You will do no such thing," the Eyes of Empire said. "Petty quarrels between Heritors are not forbidden, however sustained, punitive torture violates the Heritor Precepts."


    While Lucia continued her argument with the Eyes of Empire, the castle gates creaked open and a small group of mounted castle soldiers poured through. The representatives of the castle garrison, mostly high-ranking officers, were obviously intimidated by the small gaggle of Heritors that awaited them. They were led by an old man in shining plate armor, who Zachary did not doubt was a proper knight. The round of introductions was mercifully short.


    Feeling belligerent, Zachary asked: "What caused you to betray your own lord? How do we know you won''t betray us?"


    "We swore oaths to protect the people," the old knight replied. "I knew that Good King Sullivan here would extract proper vengeance on the people of Castle Noxus when the gates fell. Therefore, in order to protect them, I approached the Blue Wolf with terms of surrender."


    "He is mostly telling the truth," the Eyes of Empire reported.


    With the Eyes of Empire as witness, the castle guards denounced all forms of treachery, which satisfied King Sullivan. This was the opening act of what would soon become a heated negotiation. The fool woman had promised all the officers land and cottages in the Empire, a fact which the oculomancer reported as being completely truthful and factual. To his credit, King Sullivan was a shrewd negotiator, and he was able to haggle the size and value of the properties down to a more reasonable level. Once everyone was in agreement, they set off toward the gates of Castle Noxus, riding fresh mares in the wake of the local garrison.


    When they reached the throne room, they found Imperial Princess Alyesha Varelion, the Blue Wolf of Nydia, lounging on the lord''s throne sipping cherry wine. The fireplace was ablaze, so her burned coral hair seemed to glow gold at the fringes. Nearby, Lord Noxus was dressed in motley and chained to the stone wall above a pool of his own urine.


    "Sasha," Zachary said with a slight bow. "My beloved niece. You have been very busy."


    "The castle guard saw the way the wind was blowing," Sasha replied absently.


    Lucia Aden continued across the room without speaking and, responding to an inviting gesture, plopped down into Sasha''s waiting embrace. They immediately began whispering. Plotting, Zachary knew, a method of negotiating the logistics of forbidden love.


    Blane family soldiers arrived dragging Maxius the Younger by his chains. Somebody had gagged him at some point, and the nurses had done a poor job of shaving because his head was still covered in a very thin layer of stiff green stubble.


    "Heritor Maxius," Sasha said gravely. "Did you order my kidnapping?"


    "Don''t answer that," the Eyes of Empire said. She marched forward to stand between Sasha and Maxius. "Heritor Alyesha, I have just received a message from Spire Annatiki, sent through emergency channels. Heritor Maxius is not to be questioned, by any means, and for any purpose. This order comes from the Elder Saint herself."


    "Why the hell not?"


    "Because," the oculomancer replied calmly, "he obviously knows something that nobody else in this room is qualified to know."


    "Including you?" Sasha asked.


    "Including me," the oculomancer agreed.


    Zachary let out a low whistle. Sasha waved her hand dismissively and said: "Everyone please leave. I shall retire to my quarters to enjoy the company of Heritor Lucia. Under no circumstances am I to be disturbed." Her eyes drifted to Zachary, and in a single flash of emotion, a private message between niece and uncle, he knew that he had not been dismissed like the others.


    King Sullivan left, accompanied by Maxius the Younger and the Eyes of Empire. Zachary lingered until Sasha and Lucia had left, then he followed them through the oppressive halls of the castle to the lord''s private quarters. The door to the lord''s chamber was open, and both women were seated at a small table by the door. A manservant stood at the ready, holding a platter of glass flutes filled with cherry wine. Zachary snatched a glass and sucked down the blood-colored contents before dismissing the servant. It was horribly sweet.


    Once the door to the chamber had been sealed, the Blue Wolf said: "Sir Zachary, I invite you to kneel."


    Zachary dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My princess," he said. "I am yours to command."


    "Sir Zachary," she began, "on behalf of my brother Corrin Varelion, the Emperor of Nydia, I hereby order you to investigate the method Maxius the Younger used to kidnap me. I want to know how he was able to sneak past the oculomancers."


    "I will find out how," Zachary promised.


    "Sir Zachary, nothing is forbidden to you. You have full access to all imperial resources. You are above the law."


    "I understand."


    "Now go."


    And he went.

 Chapter 5: Absence

    "Hey girl," Seth said in his most charming voice. "Me and my brother are having some trouble with those boys over there. Do you think you could help us out?"


    "Certainly," the camp girl replied. "What do you need?"


    "Those boys are trying to scam us, but I''ll bet they would give a fair price to a pretty girl like you. I''ll give you the gold they were asking for. All you need to do is buy my brother a pair of gloves and you can keep the difference."


    The girl snatched the gold and sauntered off with a giggle.


    They had only been working as a hauler for Kiera Blaine for a day and a half, but they had accumulated so much money that they needed to buy proper wallets to hold it. Quinn had never owned a wallet before, and now they both owned fancy leather pouches that could be chained inside a jacket to prevent theft. Seth had managed to snare a new pair of boots, and they both sported brand new fur-lined leather jackets.


    Quinn could not suppress the lingering feeling that the good times were destined to end. Eventually, the fighting stopped and the haulers were dismissed. Rumors around the camp differed. Some insisted that the Theocracy soldiers were fighting each other when King Sullivan arrived. Others claimed that the troops garrisoned in the nearby castle were secretly loyal to House Blaine all along. Everyone seemed to be in agreement on one thing, however: the Blue Wolf of Nydia had been recovered and her kidnappers had been captured. With their long chase ended, the Blaine family soldiers were packing up for the journey north to Cloudsea.


    "Brother," Quinn said. "We need to find a Heritor soon."


    "Perhaps," Seth said. "We don''t know what the future will be like. For now, we should take advantage of our good fortune and prepare for bad times ahead."


    The girl returned with a pair of gloves for Quinn. She gave Seth a thankful smile and glided off.


    "I normally would not contradict that way of thinking," Quinn said guardedly. "But we can buy supplies at any market in any town. What are the chances we''ll find a bunch of Heritors all camped together?"


    "We don''t even know how many Heritors are here."


    "Now we know the next problem we need to solve."


    They began asking around, but Quinn did not trust the diversity of the answers. Bravely, Seth approached one of the camp oculomancers. "Honored oculomancer," he said, obviously copying the words and tone used by the engineer on that steam engine in the mountains. She regarded him with some degree of anticipation. "How many Heritors can be found here in the camp?"


    "You''re one of Lucia''s men," the oculomancer said flatly. It was an observation that they had heard many times since joining the camp. "Heritor Lucia, of course. Heritor Sullivan, Blade of Empire and King of Cloudsea. His daughter, Heritor Kiera the Mender. Heritor Zachary the Knight of Summer. Heritor Alyesha, also known as Imperial Princess Sasha and the Blue Wolf of Nydia. Oh, and Heritor Maxius the Younger, who was taken prisoner in combat by Heritor Zachary."


    A prisoner, Quinn thought. If they could just get close, he reasoned, they could talk his ear off and he would be forced to listen. Suddenly excited, he asked: "Where is Heritor Maxius now?"


    "Heritor Maxius is imprisoned on a field to the south-east."


    "Can we talk to him?"


    "Absolutely," the oculomancer replied. "By the orders of Heritor Zachary, anyone in the camp is free to communicate with Heritor Maxius."


    They found the Heritor''s prison to the south-east, a sturdy wooden cage at the top of a grassy knoll overlooking a field of rotting enemy corpses. Thankfully, the wind was blowing toward the east so they were spared the smell of death. Two oculomancers stood guard on the path leading to the cage. Once the two women were satisfied that neither Seth nor Quinn intended to free the Heritor, they were allowed to pass.


    Heritor Maxius the Younger was clad in thick furs, shivering against the wind. His dark green hair had mostly been shaved away, and his scalp was streaked with dried blood. He stirred as they approached, and then his eyes went wide with shock.


    "You shouldn''t be here!" Maxius said. "This is a trap. Sir Zachary is fishing for spies."


    "We are not spies," Quinn said. "We came to talk."


    "No, no, no no no no no!" Maxius insisted. "No talking. Don''t fill my mind with words."


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    "Do you think he''s gone mad?" Seth whispered, clearly astonished by this response. Quinn shrugged.


    "No words!" Maxius continued. "If you fill my brain with words, then the oculomancers will find them. They know truth and lies. They can discover all the words with just a few questions. No, no words! What I need in my brain is absence. By the grace of the Lawgiver, absence will be my lord and my master. Absence will be my salvation."


    "Who?" Seth asked. "Who did this to you?"


    "You!" Maxius screamed accusingly. "You seek to fill my head with words, but you must accept the absence as I have. I am Heritor. My family is very rich. You boys. You are both commoners. I can make you rich. More money than you can possibly imagine. But you must follow my instructions exactly."


    "What kind of instructions?" Quinn asked suspiciously.


    "Exactly," Maxius repeated. "EXACTLY EXACTLY EXACTLY."


    "I don''t think this is a good idea," Seth said.


    "Wait," Quinn said. "Please tell us what you want us to do."


    Maxius staggered forward and reached feebly through the bars of his cage, an act that was ultimately unsuccessful on account of the chains binding his hands together. He began whispering: "Inside Castle Noxus town, you will find The Tumbling Dice, a tavern and gambling house. In the cellar, you will find a leather handbag resting on an ale barrel. You must take the bag to a safe place and open it. Inside, you will find a single free sheet of paper and a sealed package. You must read the first (and only the first) instruction on the free sheet of paper. Then, you must follow the instruction exactly. Exactly exactly exactly exactly..."


    "This is a waste of time," Seth insisted.


    "We understand," Quinn said. "If we find this tavern of yours, we will read the instructions and decide for ourselves."


    "Exactly exactly exactly exactly..."


    As they passed the oculomancers on the path, Seth asked: "Is something wrong with that man?"


    "Probably," one of the women replied.


    "Sir Zachary probably punched the poor man a few too many times," the other woman added.


    They made their way east, to the gates of Castle Noxus. Among the foothills, the Blaine family soldiers were busy piling the corpses of their own soldiers onto huge funeral pyres. By contrast, the fallen Noxus soldiers were left to rot. The roads were mostly clean, but ponds and lakes of pure blood could be found just a few paces away on either side. Quinn slipped his face into his jacket in an attempt to avoid breathing the foul air.


    "I feel like it''s not worth it," Seth complained.


    "We''ll grab the package and then go upwind immediately," Quinn said. "It shouldn''t take long."


    It did not take very long at all to find the tavern. It was one of the most popular taverns in the castle town, and when Seth and Quinn clambered inside, they found it completely packed. Thankfully, it also smelled nice, and Seth''s mood quickly improved when he saw the serving girls.


    "You can go ahead without me," Seth said. "I''m going to hang out here."


    Quinn made an effort to act nonchalant as he explored the tavern, but he was unable to divine the location of the cellar. Seth intervened and asked one of the serving girls. She was extremely helpful and gave Quinn detailed instructions on how to reach the cellar door. Nobody working in the back paid any attention to him as he passed through.


    It must be a relatively common request, Quinn thought. Perhaps it is very common for people to come through looking for these packages.


    He found the leather pack not on an ale barrel, but on a wine rack. Brimming with curiosity, he did not bother to take it to a safe place before opening it. Trembling, he held the single free sheet in his hands and read the first instruction: Open the sealed pack. Take the two dice from the pack, and roll both dice a single time. Select the corresponding instruction from the below list.


    Quinn opened the pack and found it packed full of folded cards, each marked on the outside with a random sequence of letters and numbers. The two dice had sunk to the bottom. He rolled the dice on a nearby barrel and found the corresponding instruction on the free sheet. Open card 7A4J6 and follow the instructions on that card exactly.


    He found the indicated card and opened it. It read: Travel east of Cow Street and find a cat. Remain in the area until a cat is found. Pet the cat. Depending on the color of the cat, select the corresponding instruction from the below list.


    Quinn went upstairs and negotiated a meeting time and place with Seth. Then, he set off into the city in search of a cat. The next instruction asked him to cut a tomato and count the number of seeds. The instruction after that asked him to read a thermometer. One after another, each instruction appeared to depend on something completely random. Even after several hours of wandering around the city, Quinn refused to give up. If there is a tiny chance that this helps me make a flying machine, then it will be worth it. Any chance at all.


    One of the instructions directed him to a false tree stump which contained yet another sealed package. The following instruction read: This instruction regards the individual who informed the reader of the existence of the initial package. The reader is instructed to check in on said individual and ensure that they are still alive. Then, open card G34KH and follow the instructions there exactly.


    It was almost dusk when Quinn returned to the path leading to the Heritor''s prison. One of the oculomancers accosted him. "For what purpose have you returned?"


    "I just want to check to see if he is still alive," Quinn said truthfully.


    "Do you intend to free him?"


    "No."


    The oculomancer waved him onward. Maxius was waiting for him in his cage at the top of the hill. "Did you follow the instructions?" Maxius asked.


    "Yes," Quinn replied.


    "The instructions did not tell you to answer my question, idiot." Maxius hissed. "I said you must follow the instructions exactly, without any other thought. Your mind must have absence."


    "Fine," Quinn said. He opened card G34KH and read the instructions: Take the sealed package from the false tree stump and give it to said individual.


    Quinn slipped the package out of his pack and through the bars of the Heritor''s cage. Maxius seemed to ignore it. The next card asked him to return to the city in search of another cat. Quinn sighed, and left. As he sulked down the path toward the castle he caught a glimpse of that tall knight with a spear, Sir Zackary, sitting on a high rock, watching him with interest.

 Chapter 6: Secrets

    As her father''s armies began the march to the north, Kiera Blaine remained in her tent and continued to heal all in need. But when her father discovered that she was lingering behind, he issued a direct royal decree, summoning her to his side. She was forced to turn away a handful of elderly locals when the honor guard arrived to escort her away. It was dusk when she arrived at her father''s tent. Her father was busy debating the logistics of the army with his generals. As such he refused to see her and the honor guard abandoned her to her own whims.


    There was a Founder''s Tomb directly to the north, and, like all Founder''s Tombs, it featured an altar dedicated to Mother Summer and Father Winter, housed within a stone shrine. Those lost souls of the east, in the Theocracy of the Lawgiver, proclaimed eternal enmity with her ancient gods, but even they would never deface such a shrine. To do so would draw the ire of the Elder Saint.


    Kiera commanded her servants to set up camp on the hill overlooking the Founder''s Tomb. Within the privacy of her tent, her handmaidens set up a bath using a sawed-off wooden wine cask. Finally clean and smelling of scented oils, and garbed in a humble dark dress common to worshippers, she made her way into the shrine. The Eyes of Empire stood guard outside.


    The chamber was dominated by two stone statues standing side-by-side. To Kiera''s left stood the statue of Mother Summer, a young woman in a flowing dress holding a basket filled with fruits. By contrast, the fearsome Father Winter stood to the right. In one hand he held a rifle, and in the other a lantern. His trusty hunting hounds lounged lazily at his feet. Mother Summer was the goddess of fertility, kindness, empathy, and health. It was Mother Summer who founded the great Festival of Love, a gathering of young people from distant lands, so that they might get married and have healthy children. By contrast, Father Winter was a hateful demon who left his own children to the wolves if they were blind or deaf or their bodies were deformed.


    All the men in the world (the fools) worshiped Father Winter, who gave them the strength to endure the horrors of the battlefield. All the women in the world worshiped Mother Summer, so that they might endure the pain of childbirth and in so doing fill their lives with love.


    All the women in the world, except Sasha Varelion.


    The Blue Wolf was clad in the famed armor of Varelion, the matron of her bloodline. It was constructed entirely of tightly-interlocking ethersteel scales, which were so old that they were coated in a thin sheen of verdigris. In the correct light, this gave the armor a blue-green color, iridescent like the shell of an insect or the feathers of a male bird. The armor fit her perfectly, revealing every curve of her feminine form. The scandal!


    Lucia Aden knelt on the left, praying silently to Mother Summer, as was proper. Sasha was, as always, kneeling before the statue of Father Winter, and her prayers were anything but silent.


    "I will crush them!" Sasha announced. "I will crush this false religion."


    Kiera shuffled between them and knelt before the statue of Mother Summer. Thank you, she prayed silently. Thank you, Mother Summer, for giving me the strength to heal my father''s men. Never before in my life have I seen such strength, and perhaps never again shall I witness it. I know that this strength was given to me by you, Mother Summer. Thank you.


    "Father Winter," Sasha continued, "if you are real. If you are not just an ancient hoax, then you will give me the strength I need to smash their armies. You will give me the strength to rid this world of that abomination of a religion."


    She often said such heretical things.


    "Father Winter," Kiera said, "will not respond or even acknowledge a challenge so rooted in false faith."


    "We shall see," Sasha replied. "I knew that I would find you here, Kiera, if I waited."


    She ascended the shallow steps, spun around to face Lucia and Kiera, and plopped her bottom right on top of the altar itself. Kiera gasped. The sacrilege!


    Then Sasha said: "I will now reveal to you both one of the cherished family secrets that has been passed down in my family since before the time of the Charlatan King. I will speak of the secret history of House Renna."


    "True knowledge of the world before the war is very rare," Lucia said suspiciously. "The oculomancers wanted us to forget, and they were mostly successful in their efforts. My family remembers nothing. How do you know your information is accurate?"


    "Lucia, my love, I would never lie to you. I heard this story from my great grandfather while he was alive, and he heard this story from his great grandmother, Varelion herself."


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    "If that is true," Lucia said guardedly, "then what you offer us is priceless."


    Sasha nodded.


    "Renna the Witch, also known as Renna the Scientist, was a remarkably curious woman. One day, she became deeply curious about the true nature of religions. She asked her followers to fabricate one hundred unique Holy Books. Each one was complete with mythologies about how the world was created, answers to questions about the immortal soul and life after death, and other trappings of the religions of that time.


    "Renna built one hundred walled cities, large and self-sufficient, with glass gardens to grow food in locations with access to a healthy water table. These became the Hundred Walled Cities of Renna. Each city was assigned a single Holy Book. Each city was designed to be impossible to leave. The cities were populated with enslaved people, who continued to reproduce for many generations, while being forced to convert to the religion in their Holy Book. After hundreds of years, these cities were overflowing with religious zealots, ready for the next phase of the experiment.


    "Renna demolished the walls with explosives, causing them to collapse outward. The trapped people inside those cities were then free to leave. Thousands of fanatical believers flooded out of each city, and quickly discovered their equally-fanatical neighbors. Thus, the great Tournament of Religions began. Renna made a prediction about which religion would win this tournament. She predicted that one god, a fearsome omen of war, would be the final victor. But she was wrong.


    "It took two hundred years for the war to end. The number of people who died during the war measured in the hundreds of millions. To Renna''s surprise, the Church of the Lawgiver won the Tournament of Religions. Renna discovered why. The Lawgiver demanded a certain amount of time spent gambling with real money, at all ages. From early childhood, children strengthen the risk-taking muscle. This experience gives them a skill that they can use for their entire life, an intuitive understanding of when to gamble, and when to play it safe. The Church of the Lawgiver developed new technologies rapidly, while also having the standard trappings of religion, such as a class of warriors as well as the subjugation of women.


    "Renna converted to the religion, and her son became the Primarch. The large population of devoted followers was the primary differentiating factor between Renna and her peers. It is why she was so successful during the war with the Charlatan King."


    Kiera was so transfixed with the story that she did not notice Sir Zachary standing beside her until after Sasha finished speaking. "My beloved niece, must you freely share valuable family secrets with the other Heritors?"


    "Hello uncle," Sasha replied with a perfectly innocent smile. "If I remember correctly, I ordered you to uncover some new valuable family secrets. Have you come to report your success?"


    "I have," Zachary said. "Princess Kiera, Princess Lucia, might I be given a moment of privacy with my niece?"


    "No," Sasha said. "Whatever you have to say, I want them to hear it as well."


    "Not even the Eyes of Empire would dare listen to what I have to say," Zachary insisted.


    "On behalf of my brother Corrin Varelion, the Emperor of Nydia, I command you to speak."


    "As you like. First, I must report that I have allowed Heritor Maxius to escape."


    "A tragedy," Sasha said dryly.


    "I am surprised that the Elder Saint has allowed so many auras to be clustered in the same place for so long," Zachary continued. "Maxius escaped with the help of two of Lucia''s men."


    "Which ones?" Lucia demanded. "What are their names?"


    "Seth and Quinn."


    "I don''t have anyone on my staff named Seth or Quinn," Lucia snapped.


    "Peace, Lucia," Sasha said. "Me and Kiera both know that you would never help that creep."


    "Perhaps I made a shallow assumption," Zachary admitted. "Two young men from eastern Lyn, named Seth and Quinn, were seen speaking with Maxius before he escaped. As far as I can tell, they were not spies. I followed the younger brother Quinn as he roamed around Castle Noxus. He was exhibiting some extremely strange behavior. At one point he was desperately attempting to catch a cat. He also frequently consulted with what appeared to be one-time cards encoded with sets of instructions. Later, he acquired what must have been a lockpicking kit. He gave this kit to Maxius and left, however, the oculomancers were not able to detect any intent to help Maxius before he did so."


    "Did you figure out how?" Sasha asked excitedly.


    "It is only a theory, but I was able to observe several of the instruction cards and I have very high confidence that my theory is correct. The instruction cards are designed to make people forget their long-term goals by subjecting them to completely meaningless and randomized tasks. The choice of which instruction to follow is entirely random, but some architect, skilled in probabilities, designed the cards such as to maximize the probability that some long-term goal will be achieved. The agent following the instructions never learns what that long-term goal is until after it has been accomplished, so the oculomancers will be unable to detect their intent."


    "Damn!" Sasha said. "I should have guessed that those compulsive gamblers would concoct such a scheme. How foul!"


    "My niece," Zachary said. "I have followed your command. Unless you have further orders, I shall return King Sullivan."


    "You are free to go."


    The Knight of Summer bowed and left.


    "Kiera," Sasha said. "Now that you have heard my secret, it is my wish that you will join me in my quest. The Church of the Lawgiver must be destroyed."


    "I don''t know," Kiera said. "Perhaps I will be able to help later. Right now, I need to figure out why the bank gave me such a big aura."


    "I agree," Lucia said. "I haven''t been able to use ethermancy since Kiera started healing. Her aura could be the size of the whole damn continent for all we know."


    "Will you at least accompany me to the bank in Grael Nydia?" Sasha asked.


    "I would love to," Kiera said. "I have never seen the capital before."


    "Excellent," Sasha said. "Our time together at the Eight Color Monastery was too brief. I very much will enjoy your company, Kiera. We shall leave in the morning."

 Chapter 7: The Oathbreaker

    The armies of Cloudsea abandoned Castle Noxus, taking the garrison with them, and by nightfall the castle town had descended into chaos. Screams filled the night as youth gangs roamed the streets carrying out old vendettas against their enemies. Jealous men murdered their cheating wives, old men were burned alive for ancient slights, and young boys were captured and forced to fight to the death at gunpoint for the amusement of gambling addicts. At least, these were the rumors that circulated The Tumbling Dice, and Quinn was not certain he believed them all.


    To his credit, Seth had done a good job establishing a reputation as a valued customer in the establishment. Hired muscle protected the door from troublemakers, but they also occasionally swept the tavern searching for freeloaders who took up space without spending coins. In spite of Quinn''s protests, Seth took to the gambling tables. Thankfully, he was winning, and he was giving much of that gold to the house with the purchase of fake drinks for the tavern girls. All of the rooms upstairs were occupied, but Seth successfully negotiated a small space in the cellar where they could set up their bedrolls.


    Sometime after dawn, cries rang out through the tavern, followed by a stampede of boots. The cellar door flew open and a plump barmaid began shouting. "Young men!" she said. "Wake up! The Primarch has come! He has come to our little town!"


    Men in white trousers and green coats marched through the streets in lockstep, armed with rifles and sabers. A knight wearing porcelain armor and a green cape strode upon a horse, flanked on either side by priests in green robes carrying huge banners. Both the cape and the banners featured the likeness of a white gavel, the sigil of the Church of the Lawgiver. Maxius the Younger followed the knight, sulking beside a broad-chested man with green hair and a beard. The older man was wearing extraordinarily ornate white robes and a funny hat. The younger man was still wearing the same tattered furs, but he looked quite a bit cleaner, and Quinn assumed he was wearing a wig because his dark green hair had been restored.


    "All hail Heritor Maxius," the knight bellowed, "Primarch of the Holy Church of the Lawgiver. All hail his son, Heritor Maxius the Younger. The Primarch invites you to gather in the town square."


    Thankfully, they were among the first groups to reach the town square, so they enjoyed a more or less unobstructed view of the central platform. With his son at his side atop the platform, the Primarch began to recite the litany of crimes and insults that Maxius the Younger suffered at the hands of Sir Zachary the Knight of Summer. In Quinn''s estimation the man was probably exaggerating. Then he began reciting some religious nonsense.


    "The Lawgiver, in His wisdom, sent my beloved son a savior, one from among the very army that captured him. Two young men from that race common to the west, from the lands claimed by the Aden family."


    "It was Quinn!" Seth cried. "My brother Quinn saved Maxius!"


    "Look, look!" somebody cried. "They are from Lyn! Two boys from Lyn!"


    "It''s them! They saved his son!"


    Amidst the uproar, people began to part around Seth and Quinn, leaving them exposed to the curious gaze of the Primarch. "My son, is it true? Are these the two young men from Lyn?"


    "Father, it is true. But why are they here? Should they not have marched west with Princess Lucia?"


    The Primarch ignored these protests and said: "Young men from Lyn, step forward. Come with us. Guards, we are leaving. Please escort my son''s saviors."


    Quinn had often wondered what the interior of an ancient castle looked like, and he was not surprised that the reality matched the rumor. Dank, narrow passages made of stone, almost lightless except for the occasional arrow slit. A spiral staircase led to a modest throne room with a burning fireplace. The soldiers began to arrange themselves around the room as the Primarch ascended to the throne with his son at his side.


    "What are your names?" the Primarch finally asked.


    "Seth!" Seth said confidently.


    "Quinn," Quinn added meekly.


    "I am surprised the Elder Saint didn''t intervene when my son was captured," the Primarch said. "But you can never trust those witches in their spires. Tell me, Quinn, what is it that you ask in exchange for saving my son?"


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    "Well," Quinn began. "It has always been our dream to invent a flying machine."


    "I did not ask about your dream," the Primarch observed. "I have several flying machines in my army. It that what you want?"


    "Not a balloon," Quinn said. "Sorry, I should have been more specific. My brother and I want to invent a machine with wings like a bird."


    Maxius the Younger whispered something to his father, and the Primarch said: "Please leave us. I wish to discuss their reward in private." Silently, all of the soldiers, knights, priests, and servants shuffled out of the throne room. "I am intrigued by the idea," the Primarch continued. "This invention of yours, how much is it going to cost? What do you need?"


    "Two auras," Quinn said. "For four years. Also, enough money to pay the tuition at the University of White Chasm. And perhaps enough money to pay for transportation to White Chasm as well."


    "For what you ask, I could raise an army of ten thousand men," the Primarch said.


    "It would change warfare forever," Quinn insisted. "It could be used to scout enemy formations."


    "Father," Maxius the Younger said. "I don''t like this."


    "I know what I''m doing," the Primarch said. "Young men, how much do you know about the Elder Saint?"


    "Not much," Seth admitted.


    "I know a little bit," Quinn said. "But not any more than the average person. She is a witch. She killed the, um... the Charlatan King''s daughter."


    "That is the story told by the oculomancers," the Primarch said. "Annatiki Marunavi, the infamous Bloodraker, killed her father, the Charlatan King, on the Night of Red Lightning. Shortly thereafter, the Elder Saint somehow managed to kill the most powerful and dangerous witch in the world. As I get older, I find this story more and more difficult to believe. The Bloodraker had been driven insane by her father''s magic, compelled onto a single-minded quest to subjugate her father''s enemies. The Elder Saint, as far as I can tell, is also completely consumed with madness.


    "I have so many questions. Why did ethermancy suddenly stop working as soon as Sullivan''s armies arrived on my shores? And more troubling, why the hell was Kiera Blane able to heal my son?"


    He pounded his fist on the throne''s armrest.


    "Has the Elder Saint taken a side?" the Primarch raged. "Is that what''s happening? And why the hell did Lucia Aden have a pair of men in her employ, men who are trying to invent flying machines? Are you still working for her right now? Did she pay you to free my son?"


    "We''ve never even met Lucia Aden," Seth snapped.


    "Father, that would be impossible," Maxius the Younger said. "Lucia Aden doesn''t know how our spies operate. If these men were her spies, then she would have killed both of them because of what they know."


    "Ah," the Primarch said. "That is a very good argument. But, let us return to what Seth just said. If you boys didn''t come here with Lucia Aden, then how did you get here? Why are you here in Renna?"


    "We were in a traveling circus," Seth explained. "I''m the world-famous Flying Man."


    "I have been to that circus, Father. I have seen this man fly on his little kite once before."


    "You left the circus because of a lack of resources," the Primarch said.


    "That''s exactly right," Quinn said.


    "So you went searching for a Heritor to acquire some auras."


    "Yes."


    "And you just happened to end up in Sullivan''s camp."


    "Yes."


    "That seems like an extraordinarily fortunate turn of events," the Primarch said. "Tell me something, Seth. Do you find yourself often winning games of chance?"


    "Yeah," Seth replied. "That happens all the time."


    "Do you ever hear voices in your head?"


    "Voices?" Quinn asked, dumbfounded. He looked at his brother and froze.


    Seth''s face was almost colorless, his face contorted with shock. "How do you know about that?" Seth rasped. "How could you know about that?"


    "What are you talking about brother?"


    "It was only one time," Seth explained. "Yes sir, Heritor Maxius, I did hear a voice in my head once. It was the very first time I flew. Her voice was delicate. A girl-child really. She commanded me to inspire them."


    The Primarch nodded gravely. "I believe you. And this is not the first time in my life that I have heard of such a phenomenon. When we Heritors are first given our auras, we are forced to speak three oaths."


    "Don''t tell them about that!" Maxius the Younger hissed.


    The Primarch silenced his son with a wave of his hand. "They are the Heritor Oaths, and they are always the same. Thou shalt not seek the witchstone. Thou shalt not enter into the Tombs of the Founders. And finally, thou shalt not craft a machine in the likeness of a bird. Our oaths mirror these commands, which were first dictated by the Elder Saint herself."


    It took Quinn a moment to register what the man was saying. Then his heart sank.


    "The first two commands make perfect sense. After all, it is believed that the witchstone creates more witches when it reaches its perihelion. So it would make sense that we should not seek it, for what it''s worth."


    "Are you telling us that you swore an oath not to help us?" Quinn said, interrupting the man''s rambling.


    "Indeed, but I would be willing to break that oath."


    "Father, that is a terrible idea. What if you are forced to stand before an oculomancer?"


    "The path to my dream passes through this moment," the Primarch said. "I have decided. I will give you what you ask for. I will even arrange for transportation to White Chasm on one of my ferry boats. And Maxius?"


    "Yes father?"


    "You will go with them."

 Chapter 8: Morning Mist

    It was a clear day, and the sunlight filtered through the light fog in the woods to create a lovely purple haze. The trees on one side of the river caught the light and reflected it, shining lavender against the spooky green mass of ferns and coppery stone. The river was like a starless night, a dark mirror reflecting only the green and indigo navigation lights to either side. There was a noble waterfall to the heaven-ward side of the river boat, nestled between the white-lavender trees. To the life-ward side, the river diverted into a series of locks.


    The river boat was almost completely empty. It was occupied only by Sasha Varelion, her lover Lucia, and Kiera herself, in addition to the skeleton crew and some handmaids. Sir Zachary had gone ahead on a noisy and foul old coal-burning steamboat. That craft was still parked at the dock outside the lowest of the locks, so Kiera reasoned that he must have hiked through the woods to reach the city. It had been a long and arduous journey from the ancient land of Renna, deep into the heart of Nydia. Kiera was responsible for powering the steam engine, so the captain was forced to drop anchor at night when she retired.


    It took several hours of constant concentration to operate the steam engines in each of the locks. It was standard ethermancy, the type that had been drilled into her during her first year of study at the Eight-Color Monastery. Finally, as the final lock filled and the river boat rose higher, Kiera saw the city of Grael Nydia for the first time.


    The city was built on top of ethersteel stilts over a lake at the bottom of an enormous sink-hole. The opening of the sink-hole was large enough to shine sunlight on the palace in the center of the city, but most of the city was lit by gas lamps of various colors. The city was crisscrossed by countless canals in a carefully-planned pattern of squares.


    Kiera had seen paintings of the city before. An impractical city, to be sure. Not exactly the perfect place to build a capital city. However, the city was entrenched in hundreds of years of history. The first settlers on their world had built the foundations of the city in this natural formation because of its beauty and because of its proximity to Spire Nydia.


    The gates to the lock opened slowly and the river boat lurched forward over the dark water. Sir Zachary waited for her at the end of the loading platform, his silvery armor reflecting the orange, green, and indigo lights on the ship.


    "Princess Kiera," he said as he bowed to her slightly.


    "If you came for your niece," Kiera said, "then you will need to wait. She indulges in the horrible vice of sleeping until midday."


    "She stays up all night," Zachary said. "Emperor Corrin did send me to fetch her, but as you say, I have some free time. I could show you around the city, if you need."


    "Can you show me the way to the bank?" she asked.


    "It would be my pleasure."


    He led her through the city along ornately paved roads. Long, narrow rowboats strode across the surface of the lake below them, disappearing into gaps between the stilts. They passed cute cafes with people dining on little chairs overlooking the water, towering glass gardens reinforced with glowing ethersteel, and finally grand estates for the city''s nobility. They arrived at a section of the city built on rock near the center. The Emperor''s palace loomed overhead, a tall and imposing tower shaped like a radiator. Huge white banners swayed lazily in unseen convection currents. They reflected the blue-green light of gas lamps, and cast tall shadows on the palace walls.


    "Here," Zachary said as they arrived at a set of gently ascending steps with an ancient stone building at the top. There was a pair of stiff guards at the summit of the steps, their rifles held across their chests. "I will wait for you until you return."


    Both guards bowed as she passed, saying nothing. She entered into a stately foyer filled with golden light. The rugs on the floor were blue and silver. A dozen dark blue banners were featured prominently in the space, reaching from the ceiling almost to the floor.


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    "Princess Kiera of House Blaine!" the herald at the door announced. "Daughter of King Sullivan of Cloudsea!"


    A man waited for her in the center of the chamber. He wore an immaculate, perfectly-fitted suit, navy satin ornamented with silver filigree. He was a rather attractive man, with a proper masculine haircut and a clean shave.


    "Princess Kiera," the man said. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Fredrick Mason, Chairman of the Bank of Nydia." He bowed deeply. "Welcome to Grael Nydia. I hope that your journey was not too exciting."


    "Not exciting, Chairman Fredrick," Keira said. "A bit of a bore really, considering that I seem to be the only person in the world who can still use ethermancy. I never really appreciated just how many capable ethermancers there are in society."


    "A rather dark business," Fredrick said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"


    "I would like to meet with your most-experienced oculomancer."


    "At once, follow me."


    Fredrick Mason led her through the broad hallways to an alcove furnished with two lavish chairs, mostly hidden behind soft white drapes. "I am afraid I am a poor host, but you will need to wait here alone. Your oculomancer will be here shortly to help you with your business."


    "Go in peace, Chairman."


    When the oculomancer arrived she took one look at Kiera and then her face betrayed... horror? She quickly mastered her reaction and said, "Yes, Heritor Keira. My name is Lissa, certified by Spire Nydia to provide banking services for Heritors. What business do you have with us?"


    "I have an aura." Kiera said.


    "Yes, it is common for Heritors to have auras." The woman replied.


    "I am seventh in line to the royal throne of Cloudsea." Kiera said. "My Father never gave me an aura. Also, my aura seems to be quite large, even for a Heritor. Finally, and most importantly, nobody inside my aura can use ethermancy!"


    "That cannot be true." The oculomancer said.


    "Do not try my patience," Kiera snapped. "You are an oculomancer, you can see when a person speaks truth. You have careful records of which Heritors have auras. The Emperor is said to have an aura at the thirty-eighth harmonic, and my aura is at least twice that size! And certainly the ethermancers in this city have voiced complaints. Do you have no knowledge of what''s happening outside these walls?"


    "I''m sorry Heritor, I did not intend to imply that you were lying. Why are you here? What do you want me to do about your aura?"


    "I want you to fix it!"


    "That is not possible."


    "Why not?"


    "Your aura cannot be removed."


    "Again, why not?"


    "Any attempt to remove that aura," Lissa said, shuttering, "will instantly kill the person who would otherwise receive it."


    Kiera was astonished. "Does this happen often?"


    "This is the first time I have ever seen such a thing," the oculomancer said. "There is a message written on your aura as well. That is more common, for example when the aura comes with restrictions."


    "Well, what does it say?"


    "It says something like, ''By order of Fiona of the Morning Mist, this aura is not to be removed from the individual. Limit interactions with the individual. Contact Fiona through emergency channels if the aura has changed size.''"


    "That is," Kiera said, "complete nonsense. Fiona of the Morning Mist is one of the seven witches that fought during the war, right?"


    "That is correct."


    "Why would she give me an aura? Can I speak with her?"


    "First, I cannot say. Second, it might be possible. I can send a message through standard channels and she might contact you. However, Fiona has very important duties that occupy her time, I cannot promise that your request will even reach her."


    "It can''t be helped. And there is nothing you can do about my aura?"


    "Nothing," the oculomancer said.


    Kiera stood up and promptly left the alcove. The guards bowed to her once again as she left the building.


    "Well?" Zachary asked.


    "Fiona of the Morning Mist gave me this aura." Kiera said. "The oculomancers refused to remove it."


    Sir Zachary stopped dead. He looked horrified. "Fiona gave you an aura?" He asked.


    "You know her?"


    "I met her once when I was a child," he said. "She is the right hand of the Elder Saint, a witch from the time of the Charlatan King. She is Vjiskaldi, her tribe was almost exterminated during the war. And..." he added, "I will never forget those blue scales on her face."


    "Scales?"


    "Like a fish," Zachary insisted. "Shining blue scales on her cheeks and on her forehead. Her hair was the same shade of dark blue. I don''t think she''s human."


    Kiera shivered. In the oldest tales, not all of the original settlers on her world were human. Zachary said nothing for a long time as they walked toward the palace.


    "Do you remember your Heritor oaths?" he finally asked.


    "Of course," Kiera replied.


    "That woman, Fiona. Her role is to enforce those rules. It''s rare, but sometimes she is forced to kill Heritors. She also enforces the final oath for everyone else, not just Heritors."


    "We and our descendants shall craft no machine in the likeness of a bird," Kiera recited.


    "Yeah. Young men, idiots that think they can invent the flying machine, will eventually get a surprise visit from that woman."


    "That makes a lot of sense," Kiera said. But what does that have to do with me? Why would she give me an aura?

 Chapter 9: Heritor

    The Emperor''s palace was as impractical as the city in which it had been built. Four flat silo-shaped towers in a long row, connected by a single long hall with a vaulted roof. The throne was at the very end of the great hall, shining like a beacon because of clever skylights and clerestory windows which conspired to focus the sunlight. The first three towers were each dedicated to one of the three branches of the Triumvirate, starting with the banks, followed by the oculomancers, and finally the Heritors. The fourth tower served as the private quarters for the imperial family. The interior of each tower was almost completely hollow, lined on the inside with balconies on both sides. In each tower much of the empty space was occupied by a single massive imperial banner: a silver-white wolf against a navy background.


    As soon as Kiera stepped into the building, she was accosted by a gaggle of old maids and escorted away to the Heritor''s tower. A huge suite had been allocated exclusively for her. Once inside, the maids stripped her down to her smallclothes to measure the dimensions of her body, and within a few hours they returned with an elaborate gown salvaged from the imperial family collection. By evening she was bathed and dressed up and burdened with enough of the Emperor''s gold and jewels to reliably serve as a ship''s ballast. Two burly men and a palanquin were required to carry her down to the council chambers to meet with the Emperor.


    The council took place in a library with an open balcony which overlooked the empty throne. When Kiera arrived, she found Sir Zachary and Fredrick Mason waiting within. Emperor Corrin Varelion arrived shortly afterwards, flanked by his sister Sasha as well as Lucia Aden. The Emperor wore a rather modest dark suit, not dissimilar to Fredrick''s garb, though perhaps with more military decorations. Lucia Aden wore an extraordinarily bright red robe under a full-body mesh of black silk studded with rubies. Sasha wore Dame Varelion''s iridescent blue-green scale armor.


    The last to arrive was the Eyes of Empire. The oculomancer sulked through the room with her face obscured behind her black hood. She twisted her chair slightly before taking her seat to the right of Corrin, facing him.


    "Excellent," Corrin said. "Let us begin."


    "Should we not wait for the others?" the Eyes of Empire asked.


    "There are no others. Those gathered here are sufficient for the matters we have to discuss. Kiera, you can still use ethermancy, is that correct?"


    "Yes," Kiera replied.


    "If that is the case," Fredrick said, "then I would like to address the security concern of inviting Kiera to this meeting. My Emperor, if she is the only one who can use ethermancy, then your life may be in danger."


    "Kiera?" Sasha asked. "A security concern?" She chuckled.


    "I am not concerned," Lucia added helpfully.


    "I am sorry, I just met her this morning, and I am not familiar with her character."


    "Our oculomancer could just ask her," Sasha observed. "Brother, have you noticed? The Eyes of Empire refuses to look at poor Kiera."


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    "I have noticed," Corrin agreed. "Would you please tell us why?"


    "I don''t want to be a part of this," the oculomancer said.


    "As you like. It changes nothing. My sister was kidnapped, and there is no question about whether we should declare war on the Theocracy. The question I hope to answer in this meeting is how we are going to prosecute this war. And Kiera, you may end up being a load-bearing structure in our war strategy."


    I don''t want people to die because of me, Kiera thought.


    "If we are going to invade the Theocracy, then we will need a skilled commander. King Sullivan Blaine, the Blade of Empire, is obviously the best choice. However, King Sullivan has always operated in an environment where ethermancy plays a central role in the outcome of battles. There is another option: King Vash of Vjiskald. He has operated in Tiamir for two decades, holding the line against encroachment from Andomei. In this long struggle, there have been very few instances where ethermancy was used on either side.


    "I believe that we should appoint King Vash to lead our armies. Starting at White Chasm in the west, he will march his forces through Lyn into the Theocracy, with Kiera at the center of the formation. At the same time, Sullivan Blaine will lead the armies of Cloudsea to the far east, to scale the high cliffs protecting the Renna Basin using ethermancy. The Cloudsea ethermancers will soften them up, and then King Vash will smash them to pieces when their ethermancy fails."


    He was very animated as he spoke, which Kiera found appalling. Does he not understand how many people will die?


    "A sound strategy, brother," Sasha said. "However, it heavily depends on Kiera''s cooperation."


    "She will do as I command," Corrin said.


    Seven hundred and fifty souls. Is that not worth something? I healed seven hundred and fifty men who would have died.


    "The Blaine family swore oaths of service to our house decades ago," Corrin continued.


    "I don''t want people to die because of me," Kiera said.


    "If I command you to use your power to attack the enemy, I would expect and tolerate no hesitation."


    She saw soldiers on a battlefield, their faces locked in horror as wave after wave of frost passed through their bodies, freezing them from the inside out. They shattered, their blood and muscles and bones and organs disintegrating into gory piles. She saw this in her mind as she had seen it once before, and she screamed.


    "I am Heritor!" Kiera bellowed.


    "And... here it comes," Lucia drawled.


    "I am the Emperor!" Corrin said.


    "I don''t care what petty title you have given yourself!" Kiera snapped. "Are the Heritors not equal to the oculomancers?"


    She stood up and stomped across the room toward the Eyes of Empire. She pulled the hood down. The oculomancer''s shining purple eyes filled with shock. Kiera grabbed the oculomancer by the jawbones and forced her to look. The oculomancer flinched. Kiera saw horror and pain.


    "What do you see?" Kiera demanded.


    "It''s like staring into the sun," the oculomancer said. "It hurts."


    Suddenly Kiera felt shame at having caused pain to the poor woman. Corrin was trembling. Fredrick Mason looked concerned, Sir Zachary looked exhausted, and Sasha was smiling, looking at Kiera with anticipation.


    "I am Heritor," Kiera repeated, "and I have rights. I will stand before the Elder Saint herself and I will demand an explanation. I have a right to know my own fate."


    "She will kill you," the Eyes of Empire said.


    "Then I will die. And I will die a proud Heritor and a Princess of Cloudsea. And after I am dead nobody will ever be able to command me to kill ever again."


    "I will go with her," Sasha announced. "I too will confront the Elder Saint, and I will demand support in our war against the Theocracy."


    "Is that really what you want?" the Eyes of Empire asked. "Both of you?"


    "Yes," Kiera said. "It''s about time I have answers."


    "Yes," Sasha agreed. "Renna''s abomination of a religion should not be allowed to exist."


    "Very well," the oculomancer said. "I will make arrangements for a flight to Spire Annatiki. Don''t say I didn''t warn you."

 Chapter 10: The Witch

    To the east of Grael Nydia there could be found a nearly-endless forest of pine trees, extending from Spire Nydia all the way to the Ash Sea. The high cliffs overlooking the Ash Sea were unassailable, and they bordered the forest to the east and the south. It was because of these cliffs that the forest was given its name: the Shelf Forest. To the north, the Shelf Forest was isolated by a long mountain range. As such, the region was almost entirely uninhabited. A single paved road granted access to the deep forest, lined on either side by walls of pines.


    Kiera used her ethermancy to operate the little steam engine that powered the Emperor''s autocar. Sasha sat at the wheel, happily steering along that lonely road with a practiced hand. It was warm inside the cabin, the cushions were comfortable, and the paisley felt on the walls was soft and tasteful. Kiera thought the machine was frightful, especially when it first started moving and everything outside became a blur. She tried closing the shutters but that only made her sick. Thankfully it was foggy outside, and not even Sasha would drive too fast in the fog.


    Shadows appeared in the fog on the road ahead. A sturdy gate, constructed from reinforced steel, spanned the space between two stone walls that extended deep into the forest. Sasha slowed the little autocar to a stop some distance from the gate. The running engine caused the car to rock and bounce while it stood motionless on the road.


    Suddenly, Kiera felt something. It was sort of like ethermancy, except that was clearly impossible. However, that feeling was unmistakably some method of consuming dream ether. Kiera could feel the direction of the ether converging. She knew almost exactly where the ethermancer was standing, just to the left of the road, hidden behind the stone wall.


    Slowly, the gate began to shift to one side. A dark feminine figure marched out into the center of the road, wearing skirts and a tall pointy hat with a wide brim, the very image of a witch from the old stories. Even at a distance Kiera could clearly make out the glowing purple eyes and the radial teal fractures, the two marks of an oculomancer. She felt a chill.


    The witch glided forward gracefully, right up to the autocar, and slipped open the door. Kiera gasped. She was exactly as Sir Zachary had described. Shining, iridescent blue scales on her cheeks and on her forehead, with an ageless face and long, dark blue hair. As she slipped into the cabin the brim of her hat smashed into Kiera''s face. Kiera grunted in protest, and thankfully the witch doffed her oversized hat and stuffed it in an empty corner of the cabin.


    "Hello love," the witch said. She turned to face Kiera and flinched. "Well, this is embarrassing. I didn''t realize it would be so damn bright."


    The shuttering and rocking of the autocar stopped and it began to lurch forward toward the open gate.


    "Is your name Fiona?" Kiera asked.


    "Fjenna," the witch said. "But yes, languages change over the centuries. You may call me Fiona if it pleases you."


    "Honored ancestor," Lucia said as she peered back from the seat beside Sasha. "I will tell my grandchildren that I met you."


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    "Hello human," Fiona said. "That''s me, your ancestor. It turns out that if a whelp like me mates with a human, the child will always be human. Too bad. I''ll bet the Aden clan would look striking with blue scales on their face. It would juxtapose those obnoxious red robes you wear."


    "My great grandmother warned me that you were strange," Lucia said.


    "Do we just keep following this road?" Sasha asked.


    "It''s not far," Fiona said.


    "Did you get my message?" Kiera asked hopefully.


    "I did. I am a very busy woman, however, if enough oculomancers get their knickers in a bunch, even I can find an excuse to intervene."


    "So, um... Miss Fiona, why did you give me this aura?"


    "Well," Fiona began. "There is so much to explain. That aura only has a single spell that is always active, and the purpose of that spell is to create maximum resistance to the use of dream ether. I thought it was pretty clever when I invented it. However, in the past, it has never been necessary to use such an aura on somebody at your level."


    "At my level?" Kiera asked.


    "I forgot to mention it," Fiona replied. "You, Kiera, are a witch! Just like me!"


    "Oh," Kiera said. "And you gave me the aura to prevent me from using my, uh... witch abilities?"


    "That''s right," Fiona said.


    "And this aura, it also caused everyone else to experience the ''maximum resistance'' thing that you mentioned earlier?"


    "Just so."


    "You do realize," Sasha said, "that you basically derailed three national economies with that thing?"


    "That''s not my problem," Fiona observed. "We delegate such details to the banks. I''m confident that they''ll come up with some clever and arcane financial instrument to shift their problems onto somebody else. Most likely a pyramid scheme of some sort."


    "Something doesn''t add up," Lucia said. "How the hell is Kiera able to operate this thing if her powers are being suppressed? How did she heal hundreds of soldiers?"


    "I was about to ask the same thing," Sasha added happily.


    "That is quite simple," Fiona replied. "The aura was designed to contain relatively weak witches. Kiera is a strong witch. Much, much stronger than myself. She will make a fine weapon for the Elder Saint."


    "I don''t want to be a weapon!" Kiera protested.


    "That''s the spirit!"


    A brilliant flash of red light cut through the fog, followed by a sustained indigo light. The autocar slowed and stopped in front of a yellow line painted on the road. Through the fog, Kiera could just barely make out the shape of a huge white boat directly ahead. Except, it could not be a boat, because it was above the ground, and there was no water. Either way, not wanting to crash into the thing, she released her ethermancy and allowed the steam engine to die.


    All four women clambered out of the autocar in silence. As they approached the white boat, Kiera realized it was not a boat. It was like nothing she had ever seen before in her life. The giant contraption was shaped like a huge tube, with a tall fin at one end. In the middle of the contraption, there was a huge protruding thing, curvy and cambered, with a blazing indigo light at the very tip. The fin at one end had a delta-shaped thing at the very top, with a red light that occasionally flashed. The whole tube was supported by shining metal struts ending in tires, the same type of tires on the autocar but much larger. It was somewhat difficult to discern the purpose of such a contraption, especially because of the fog.


    At the far end of the tube, there was a funny staircase leading to a doorway. They all followed the witch Fiona up the stairs and beyond the threshold. Within, Kiera found row after row of leather seats, and in that moment Kiera realized what the thing was.


    "It''s a huge autocar!" Kiera announced.


    "Not quite," Fiona said. "None of you girls have ever seen an airplane, have you?"

 Chapter 11: The World Above the Fog

    With a strange, metallic grinding sound, the stairway to the craft rotated slowly upward to completely fill the doorway. Fiona rotated a red lever and the door sealed with an airy hiss. Sasha and Lucia took seats near the middle of the craft, and at first Kiera decided to sit with her friends. She revised this decision when her friends erupted into a fit of passionate kissing. Fiona was seated within a cramped cabin at the very front of the craft, imprisoned in a metal cage covered with colorful gauges and switches.


    Awkwardly, Kiera clambered into the second seat in the forward cabin, careful not to touch anything. There was a funny little steering wheel between her legs, but otherwise the seat was comfortable. She allowed her legs to relax and fully extend, only to realize that there were treacherous moving pedals pressed against her feet.


    "I figured you would find your way up here eventually," Fiona said.


    "Sometimes they gross me out," Kiera said.


    Fiona waved her hand dismissively. "They are happy. Young people need to be happy while they still can."


    Small droplets of raid had begun to accumulate on the forward windows. With practiced movements, Fiona began to rapidly flip switches all over the place. Things started to make sounds and blink with colorful flashes of light. Somewhere life-ward, a frightful metallic hiss began to grow louder and louder in a whirring crescendo. The same sequence of sounds began on the heaven-ward side of the craft as well. Fiona flipped more switches.


    "Did you memorize all this?" Kiera asked.


    Fiona reached in between them and grasped what appeared to be a power lever of some sort.


    "No. Today was the first time I''ve flown this particular airframe. I needed to figure out what everything does. There are certain patterns that Sophia follows in her designs, so it didn''t take me long. It''s just another pair of wings. Watch your feet, love."


    Kiera pulled her legs away from the pedals. Fiona slid the lever all the way forward, and this caused the whirring sound to grow very loud. Suddenly, Kiera felt the craft lurch forward, and the ghostly trees outside began to move backwards. Droplets on the forward windows began to spread out to either side as the craft picked up speed. It was not long before they were moving much faster than Sasha''s little autocar. It was so fast that the droplets had become horizontal rivers.


    The trees beyond the fog merged into a perfect blur. The dark, paved road dropped away and vanished, and then they were lost in the clouds. The motion of the water on the windshield was the only indication that they were moving at all. That roaring, whirring sound continued. Fiona slammed a large lever all the way up, and this caused the airplane to vibrate with a metallic grinding sound. When that sound stopped, the lever lit up with green lights.


    "Can you see through this fog?" Kiera asked.


    "Yes," Fiona said. "Though the world looks quite different to me than it does to you. It looks like glowing points in a dark void. I use a handful of these points to navigate."


    Kiera watched the needles rise on the little gauges of her metal prison. One of the gauges looked a bit like a clock with three hands, and one of those hands was rotating rapidly.


    "Is this normal?" she asked.


    "That''s the altimeter," Fiona replied. "In its current mode, it tracks how far we are above the ground using air pressure. There is another mode that we will use when we get closer to the Spire Annatiki sub-conduit. If my memory serves, the fog should break soon."


    Fiona''s memory was indeed correct. Suddenly the cabin was illuminated with brilliant sunlight. From the corner window, Kiera peered down at a sharp angle. The fog below coated the whole world like a wintery blanket, and huge billowing pillars of white reached up, grasping for the sapphire sky, juxtaposed against billowing plumes of angry black and gray. Here and there, a few snowclad peaks jutted up through the blanket of fog. To the northeast, the Cloudsea Spire dominated the horizon, marbled copper and onyx and coated with hoarfrost, and immediately to the west stood Spire Nydia. The latter spire was crowned with a huge bowl-shaped city where Nydia the Midwife lorded over her oculomancers and lesser witches.


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    "There is another world up here," Kiera said. "The world above the fog."


    The craft banked toward Spire Nydia. The whole sky rotated around them, as if they were a fixed point in a giant rotating snow globe. They followed a circular path, with the spire at the very center, until they were facing west. Spire Annatiki, the tallest of the small spires, loomed in the distance, on the island of Vjiskald. To the south, Spire Erika, as tall as the sky, jutted up into the great conduit. Like an airy bridal veil rising into the sky, the conduit continued on and on, all the way to the Sister World.


    The Sister World was mottled brown and tan, streaked with huge red dust storms, and spotted with the occasional obsidian lake near the other end of the conduit. Kiera had seen that drab desert planet many times over the years, on the rare days when the sky was clear.


    "Fiona?" Kiera asked hesitantly. "Can this machine fly to the Sister World?"


    "Of course," Fiona said. "Rath Lake is located just under Spire Titania, at the very opposite side of the conduit. That''s where oculomancers get their eyes, in a temple at the bottom of that lake. There are a few colonies of elderly oculomancers living there, but in general, the Elder Saint does not want people living there, in case they turn into witches."


    "She doesn''t like witches," Kiera said solemnly. "She is not going to like me, is she?"


    "She trusts me absolutely. You have a kind heart and a long history of dutiful service to others. You have nothing to worry about. Trust me. You and the Elder Saint might even become friends!"


    "I hope so!" Kiera said.


    Fiona''s words made Kiera feel a lot better. The witch brought Spire Annatiki into the center of the windshield and then trimmed the airplane to fly straight. The flight continued for about an hour. At one point Fiona actually stood up and left the cabin in order to chastise the two girls in the back for being too loud. All the while Kiera kept repeating the same thought in her mind, over and over. She will like me. We can be friends. I like meeting new people, especially a fine woman like the Elder Saint. We can be friends. We can be friends.


    As they flew closer to the spire, another airplane caught up with them, overtaking them from behind. The alien thing looked completely different from the white tube in which they flew. It was dark, dark gray, shining with a reflective sheen in the sunlight. It looked predatory, angular and sleek, and Kiera suspected it was a weapon of war.


    "What is that?" Kiera asked.


    "That''s our escort," Fiona said. "One of the fighter jets that patrols Spire Annatiki. Don''t worry about her. She''s just doing her job."


    The sub-conduit was an airy distortion, shaped a bit like the peak of a silk veil suspended over a bed. When they passed into the sub-conduit, the airplane shook violently. Fiona was able to keep the craft flying straight using a combination of the funny steering wheel and the foot pedals. The altimeter went haywire until Fiona flipped a switch and then it returned to its original value of twenty-two thousand feet.


    Fiona slammed that lever with the green lights down again, and the same metallic grinding sound was repeated in reverse. She flipped more knobs and switches, and dramatically reduced the power lever, which combined to slow the airplane down. Directly ahead, in the center of the windshield, the upper surface of Spire Annatiki spread out like a porcelain plate. A single long road, perfectly straight and black as night, stretched from edge to edge. It was painted with white symbols and lines, and lit up with brilliant white, red, and yellow lights.


    As they got closer to that long road, Kiera was certain they were going to slam down nose-first into the ground and explode. At the last second, Fiona pulled back on the steering wheel, and the nose rose just above the horizon. She held it there, lingering, floating just off the ground for what seemed like an eternity. Then, the craft suddenly dropped like a rock and struck the road. There was a screeching sound from the tires, and a stuttering sound from every direction, as small imperfections in the road rattled the airplane.


    More switches, a flurry of activity from the witch, and finally the airplane was driving along the road slower than Sasha''s autocar. Ever so gently they slowed to a crawl, and turned off the road to a smaller access path. Women on the ground with bright lights guided them toward a long arm-like structure jutting away from a gleaming glass building.


    "Can you go back there and check on them?" Fiona asked. "They will need to be presentable when we go into the city."


    The city, Kiera thought. The Elder Saint''s own spire. We can be friends, can''t we? Please let us be friends.

 Chapter 12: The Elder Saint

    The arm-like structure could move, and after the airplane came to a halt, the arm reached out to grasp the door. It was hollow inside, a type of moving tunnel designed specifically to attach to airplanes and allow the occupants to depart. Fiona led them through the tunnel to some type of loading platform with hundreds of seats, huge windows, and a high, vaulted ceiling. Kiera had seen such places near steamboat loading platforms, and they were usually reserved for Heritors and other elites. The sheer quantity of seats befuddled her at first, until she reasoned that the oculomancers might not share her perceptions of commoner and elite. The Elder Saint must value even the most humble oculomancers.


    "Fiona," Kiera said. "That craft we just flew in, is that the largest one?"


    "The largest airplane?" Fiona asked. "No, that one is actually the smallest one Sophia has designed. The largest type of aircraft was designed to carry the Elder Saint''s spirit-lattice spikes. Most of those airplanes are stored in huge hangars in the salt flats near Spire Titania, on the Sister World. The dry climate helps prevent corrosion of the metal components. But there is one such airplane directly below us now."


    "What is a spirit-lattice spike?"


    "You will see one for yourself very soon."


    Fiona led them to a glass-walled conveyance designed to travel up and down. They went down, through a square hole in the ground, into a vast empty space.


    "Mother Summer!" Kiera gasped. Sasha and Lucia were both stunned speechless.


    The city was shaped like a massive bowl resting atop the uneven stone peak of Spire Annatiki. Rings of civilization rose like stairs, tier after tier, up the slope of the bowl until it became too steep. There were dwellings, restaurants, markets, and huge water wheels, all crafted from shiny white stone which reflected flashes of red-magenta light. Suspended in that vast space was an arched bridge supporting a huge platform, upon which rested a massive black airplane with high wings and six engines.


    At the very center of the bottom of the bowl, directly below the arch, a single structure dominated the city, filling the void with bloody light. A pyramid, reaching into every corner of the city, constructed from a glowing crimson material, marbled with mercurial magenta, crackling with red lightning.


    "Is that thing a solid aura?" Lucia asked, astonished.


    "In a way," Fiona said.


    "Can you imagine the wealth?" Lucia continued. "All the Heritors in the world, all the banks in the world, all that spirit-ether combined..."


    "Would be a drop of water compared to the ocean," Fiona said. "The Elder Saint has sacrificed nothing to task the Heritors with keeping order. Heritor Alyesha, it may be wise to turn back now."


    "No," Sasha said. "If anything, this makes me more determined." But Keira could tell it was a lie. Sasha''s face betrayed her fear.


    The conveyance reached the bottom of the bowl and the glass doors opened onto a courtyard filled with ponds and stone statues. Fiona led them across the courtyard to the outer wall of the pyramid, and down the street until they reached a doorway leading inside. The interior of the pyramid, including the floor, appeared to be uniformly-constructed from the same strange red-magenta crystal. Kiera felt an alien sensation, an uncanny want from the material, nagging at her. She focused on that sensation, tried to comprehend it, tried to reach out and give herself to that want. What she found was a maze, a shifting, self-healing barrier.


    "Don''t reach for it," Fiona warned. "Don''t reach for it ever again."


    "I''m sorry," Kiera said. "I didn''t know."


    When they reached the end of the hallway, the space opened both above and below. The structure was in fact two pyramids, one inverted, both completely hollow, so that the interior was shaped like a cube tilted on one corner. Flashes of red lightning spanned the void. A red-magenta gantry led out onto a balcony overlooking the empty space, and at the end of the balcony there was a vast throne. Six huge cylinders, also made from the same crystal, were arrayed about the throne, three on each side, suspended by cables. They were all filed down to a point at the bottom end, like railroad spikes.


    At the apex of the lower pyramid, the crystal material gave way to raw stone. There was a circular hole, a pit leading down into pulsing red darkness, lined on all sides with the same type of red spike, as if they had been hammered into the wall of the pit. Kiera could feel them, down and down, perhaps all the way to the base of the spire, perhaps all the way to the center of the world.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    A figure in silver robes sat upon the throne. Her face was shrouded by a silver hood, though Kiera could see the faint teal glow of oculomancer scars on her shadowed cheeks. As they approached the throne, Fiona stopped suddenly and fell to one knee. Kiera thought this was a wise thing to do, so she mimicked the gesture.


    "Heritor Kiera," the Elder Saint said in a voice devoid of emotion. "You quested for the spirit-ether which belongs to me alone."


    "That is partially my fault," Fiona said quickly. "I did not anticipate that she would be able to feel it through the aura I gave her, so I did not instruct her on proper behavior. I will make modifications to the weave encoded on this type of aura, so that this mistake will not be repeated in the future."


    "You are telling the truth," the Elder Saint said. "Why are these other Heritors here? They have no business here. They must leave."


    "If I may," Sasha began. "As a Heritor of House Varelion, I wish to request aid in my war against the Theocracy of the Lawgiver. Great Elder Saint, it is in the best interest of humanity that I should be successful in my ambition."


    "I will subjugate the etherborne," the Elder Saint said, her face still shrouded by the silvery hood. "I will subjugate the etherborne, and you will aid me, or you will be replaced. You can quarrel with the other Heritors if you wish. It is not forbidden to you. Remember your oaths."


    "The Eyes of Empire tried to warn us," Lucia whispered.


    Sasha nodded. "I am sorry," she said. "I have overstepped."


    "Heritor Alyesha, you are dismissed," the Elder Saint said with finality. "Heritor Lucia, you are dismissed."


    "Wait for us outside," Fiona said.


    The two girls rose and glided away, back along the red crystal gantry toward the exit. When they were gone, the Elder Saint lowered her hood, revealing her face. She looked young, not much older than Kiera, with a certain girlish innocence that Kiera admired. She had shining purple scales on her cheeks and on her forehead, dark purple hair, and the glowing purple eyes of an oculomancer. Her expression was filled with a focused determination.


    Mother Summer, Kiera thought. I recognize her from the paintings. What would the world be like if the Bloodraker never died?


    "I must decide if I am going to kill you now, Heritor Kiera," The Elder Saint said.


    Kiera whimpered. "Have I violated my oaths?" she asked.


    "You have not violated your oaths," Fiona said. "Annatiki, I have reached a conclusion."


    Oh, Mother Summer, why? Why would you curse this poor woman to live?


    "Fjenna, what is your conclusion?" Annatiki asked.


    "Heritor Kiera, what is your highest ideal?" Fiona asked.


    Kiera was speechless. "I, um... don''t know. Please, great Elder..."


    "You do know," Annatiki said. "You will speak only truth."


    Her voice was the coldest, most emotionless voice Kiera had ever heard before. In that moment, looking into those cold, determined eyes, Kiera felt more than just fear. She felt the other woman''s overwhelming pain. The Charlatan King''s own daughter, corrupted, tormented. Mother Summer, what I wouldn''t give to heal her. What I wouldn''t give to undo what her father did to her.


    "I wish to care for others." Kiera said truthfully. "I wish I could heal you."


    "If I have need of healing I will do it myself," Annatiki snapped.


    "See?" Fiona insisted. "Harmless, as I said. She is already subjugated. In fact, she has subjugated herself with her own caring and motherly nature. I think we should take away her aura and begin training her. She can help you in your honorable quest to subjugate the etherborne."


    "Do as you please Fjenna. You have not failed me before, not in all the centuries since I killed my father. I will not kill her today. You are free to take her as your apprentice."


    Fiona grabbed Kiera by the scruff of her neck and dragged her out of the chamber. "So you live," she said. "That is surprising. I expected that she would kill you."


    "You lied to me," Kiera hissed.


    "To be fair I did not want you to spend the whole flight brooding over your imminent execution."


    "I didn''t even know oculomancers can lie!"


    "Oh yeah, we lie all the time," Fiona admitted. "For example, that huge propaganda campaign to convince people that the Elder Saint exists. It''s the reason we ended up in this situation in the first place, I think. During the war, it was widely believed that our entire world was being punished. Punished for all eternity, for our hubris. We took upon ourselves the eyes which see truth, yet we swore no oaths to speak truth. A powerful being named the Queen of Light repaid our hubris by creating the witchstone."


    "I never heard anything like that before," Kiera said.


    "We found all the books that mentioned it," Fiona said. "Then we made corrections to those books. We were very thorough."


    "So who is this ''Queen of Light?'' Is that just another name for Mother Summer?"


    "No, Mother Summer and Father Winter fled our world when the witchstone was discovered."


    "Sacrilege!"


    "It''s true!" Fiona insisted. "Reyndell even met both of them. And because I am an oculomancer, I could tell his story was truthful. Father Winter and Mother Summer were humans, not gods. They were in love with each other sometimes, but their mistress, the Queen of Darkness, sometimes made them forget their love. They got spooked by Reyndell''s ability to modify souls, so they abandoned our world."


    Kiera shivered. "That''s a lie. You just admitted that oculomancers can lie."


    "Don''t worry," Fiona said. "When you get your eyes, you will be able to see for yourself that I am telling the truth."

 Chapter 13: Thralls

    Fiona led Kiera and her friends down a stairwell into the raw stone interior of the spire. Below the city they found natural caverns, dark rock marbled with glowing blue and green ethersteel. In some places they found funny cone-shaped rock formations hanging from the roof. In other places they found buildings carved directly into the stone. Finally the quartet arrived at a chamber that was so large that it contained an entire promenade filled with shops and restaurants, buildings that were not cut from stone, but constructed of other materials. Women in fashionable clothing roamed the streets or sipped cherry wine on the balconies overhead.


    "Why are there men in the spire?" Sasha asked.


    It took Kiera a few moments to see the men for herself. She only saw a few of them inside the restaurants, carrying dirty dishes and sweeping floors.


    "All of the men are thralls," Fiona said. "Reyndell created thousands of thralls. He tasked them with cleaning. After he died his thralls went right on cleaning. Even after several centuries they still dart about, cleaning toilets and doing dishes."


    "I suppose I could tolerate a few men like that," Sasha said.


    "Are they in pain?" Kiera asked.


    "Not quite," Fiona said. "What they find easy and comfortable has been modified, dictated, forced upon them."


    "So they think cleaning is easy?" Sasha asked.


    "Let me give you an example. Most people always use the same hand for writing. Imagine one day you wake up and discover that you can no longer write with your preferred hand. However, you also discover that it''s easy to write with your other hand. So, you start doing that instead, and after a little while you don''t think about it anymore. That''s what happened to the thralls. They were given a specific skill and focus and now they gravitate towards doing that because it''s easy for them. A thrall is a witch that has been compelled with such a focus. This compulsion is permanent, and generally causes the thrall to lose most or all emotions. Nobody alive today is powerful enough to create thralls. The men here are all left over from the war."


    "That''s terrible!" Kiera said. She looked out at the men going about their business. They seemed happy.


    "It''s obviously very unethical. Reyndell was very cruel. He even turned his own children into thralls."


    "Like the Bloodraker," Lucia said. "My grandma always told me that she would leave me outside for the Bloodraker if I didn''t eat my vegetables. I was terrified of the Bloodraker until my mother informed me that the Elder Saint killed the creature centuries ago."


    Kiera glanced uneasily at Fiona. The witch simply shook her head in a subtle way. "I have no idea where the scary stories came from," she said.


    "What I don''t understand is why?" Sasha said. "Why did the Charlatan King make so many thralls? Are they that much better than regular servants? I happen to like my servants. If I''m having a bad day and I want to blow off some steam, I can always assert my dominance to make myself feel better."


    "There is a reason they called him the Charlatan King," Fiona replied. "You see, when the witchstone was first discovered, it was moving toward its perihelion and people were frightened. Nobody knew what to do about it. Renna wanted to exterminate the male half of the population every time the witchstone got close."


    "A pragmatic woman," Sasha said.


    "Reyndell was the more powerful witch," Fiona continued. "Obviously he didn''t like the idea, and the two witches fought each other bitterly for decades. Reyndell wanted to turn everyone into thralls, not just witches. In his vision of the world, all males would become thralls, while the entire female half of the population would remain at his disposal to create new offspring."


    "The oldest of male fantasies," Sasha observed.


    "Either way, when Reyndell died, most of the thralls grew old and died. The witches that had been transformed into thralls lingered, using their power to remain young forever, and therefore fulfill their tasks forever."The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What happens," Kiera began, "when a thrall is given a focus that directly contradicts their innermost beliefs?"


    "Such a subtle question," Fiona said with a grin. "The soul cannot suffer inner contradictions. A cruel fate awaits such people. A life of eternal shame and self-loathing. Isolation."


    "Is it possible to heal a thrall?" Kiera asked hopefully.


    "Reyndell did not seem to think so."


    They came upon a set of gently-sloping stairs leading to an ancient stone building. It shared strong similarities with the two banks she had encountered in her life, the first being in Cloudsea and the second being in Grael Nydia. The oculomancers at the door were covering their eyes.


    "Fiona!" one of the oculomancers snapped. "Why did you bring her here?"


    "I am taking her to the aura maiden to remove her aura," Fiona announced. "By the order of the Elder Saint, she is to become my apprentice."


    The two women thankfully allowed them all to pass. Even the interior of the bank was similar to the one Kiera had visited in Grael Nydia. The rugs on the floor and the banners hanging from the ceiling were all white instead of blue. Instead of featuring the silver-white wolf of House Varelion, they instead featured the likeness of a winged reptile, sewn in purple thread. Two women stood in the center of the chamber, but only one of them was an oculomancer.


    "There''s our maiden," Fiona said.


    "How do you know?" Kiera asked.


    "I can see her aura," Fiona said. "Her aura is the size of a small country so she is kind of easy to keep track of."


    "So why do we need her?"


    "I''m not actually powerful enough to take your aura from you," Fiona said. "Or, more specifically, you are quite a bit stronger than me, so I actually cannot take an aura from you. You would need to transfer it to me, and there is no way I am waiting around for you to practice how to do that."


    "I agree," Sasha said. "The faster we can get rid of that thing, the better. I feel naked without ethermancy."


    "Wait!" Lucia said. "If she is stronger than you, then how the hell did you give her the aura in the first place?"


    "I gave it to her in the few weeks between when we discovered that she was transforming into a witch, and when she actually did transform into a witch. Now, be silent."


    As they approached the two women in the center of the room, Kiera saw that same horrified look in the eyes of the oculomancer. "Fiona, have you gone mad?" the woman asked.


    "I am not going to repeat myself to every gawking imbecile ," Fiona replied. "I want you to remove her aura."


    "This creature? Are you sure you want to remove that aura? It seems to be helping keep her contained."


    "Yes," Fiona said. "The Elder Saint knows all about her. I have been given total freedom with this one. So stop asking questions and get on with it."


    "How do we know she won''t just kill both of us after we remove it?"


    "Just ask her," Fiona snapped. "Or have you forgotten that you are an oculomancer?"


    The oculomancer looked trapped for a moment, unable to muster a response. "Fine," she finally said. "Heritor Kiera, if I remove your aura, then do you intend to cause us harm?"


    "Of course not!" Kiera said. "I''m a healer. I would never want to harm anyone ever."


    "Do you intend to steal the spirit-ether from this aura maiden if we remove your aura?"


    "I don''t know what that means," Kiera admitted. "But to answer your question, no. I do not intend to do anything like that. If you happen to need healing, then I would be happy to provide it. Otherwise, I do not have any specific intent."


    "See?" Fiona said. "Just do as I have asked."


    "There is enough spirit-ether in her aura to reach the eighty-first harmonic," the oculomancer said, pointing to Kiera. "The spirit-ether is organized into a standard spherical aura. Maiden, you are now going to blank out and remove all spirit-ether from this individual. You are to store this spirit-ether."


    "I store spirit-ether," the maiden announced in a voice devoid of emotion. She placed her hand on Kiera''s chest.


    "Hey!" Kiera protested. This woman is a thrall!


    "Relax," Fiona commanded. "Let her do her job."


    After a few moments Kiera suddenly felt an enormous weight crushing down on her from all directions, like she had swam down into very deep water. She fell to one knee and gasped. "Fiona?" she asked. "What is happening to me?"


    "You are probably feeling dream-ether for the first time," Fiona said. "You will get used to it after a few days. Just sleep on it. Oh, and do not reach out and try to claim it."


    Kiera was struggling not to fall on her face from the weight of the stuff.


    "Off we go ladies," Fiona said. She turned and marched away. Kiera staggered drunkenly through the bank in an attempt to keep up.


    Sasha was positively beaming. "I can feel ether again!" she said happily. "Lucia, can you feel it?"


    "I can!" Lucia agreed.


    "Are you girls going to head back to Nydia and prepare for that little war of yours?" Fiona asked.


    "Actually I think I would like to spend a few days here," Sasha said. "Maybe explore the spire for a little bit. Is that alright?"


    "Certainly," Fiona said. "I''ll arrange to have a suite allocated for you two. Also, there is a nice cavern on the south side of the spire where you can find an indoor saltwater pool with a sandy beach. I highly recommend it."


    "I wouldn''t mind going to the beach," Lucia said.


    "Naked?" Kiera asked dryly.


    "Of course naked!" Sasha said. "You will join us too, won''t you Kiera?"

 Interlude 1: Seven Witches Cafe

    It was a clear day in the greatest city in the world. The grassy hills of the University Fjord were mostly free of snow, and thankfully the wind wasn''t strong enough to knock Yana on her butt. After all, being knocked on her butt would sour this most exalted of days. For the first time in her life, she was an important person. A critically important person. She clutched to her breast an unsealed message, signed and verified by the oculomancers, summoning Yana to the Seven Witches Cafe to meet with none other than the infamous Morning Mist.


    The Sister World dominated the sky, a dry desert planet looming over Spire Erika to the west. With the sky as clear and blue as it was, Yana knew, the witches would be in hiding. The sunlight reflected off the stacked rings of greenhouses that hugged the base of Spire Lyn to the south, a bright green flash in Yana''s vision. A grim reminder that their food, their very existence, was completely dependent on the grace of the witches.


    And now they think I am important, she thought.


    Perhaps they would summon her to become an oculomancer? That would not be too bad. She had already given birth to a few sons. If she became pregnant with a daughter, she reasoned, she could become an oculomancer with no risk to the child. Her husband wouldn''t even be angry. He had his collection of mistresses, and he would not likely care that she poisoned her body with the parasite. The daughter would be born in perfect health, and perhaps she would be the matron of an entire dynasty of oculomancers. Maybe even some witches!


    Along the pale cobblestone road she went, between colorful wooden buildings with ornate facades. The wealthy elites that haunted these streets wore dark clothes, practical and devoid of ostentatiousness. The greatest city in the world was a harsh city, after all. The sky itself was hostile and hungry. The perfect place to build a University, in Yana''s estimation. Those witches are clever, if nothing else.


    The Seven Witches Cafe was ancient but also quaint. Constructed from stone, the two-story building was drab olive with a bright red door. Yana stalked between the empty tables under the second-floor patio and pulled on the vertical bar. It didn''t budge. She tried pushing, and that worked, which was just terrible design. A betrayal. A scandal!


    The witch was waiting for her on the second floor of the cafe, in a small alcove painted with images of birds, one side open to the air. She was people-watching, and there was a steaming latte on her table. There was a white wooden box by her feet, painted with a Purple Dragon in the center of each face.


    The opposite wall was decorated with seven full-sized paintings of witches. They had dark robes and pointed hats, with the exception of the witch in the very center of the seven, who was wearing a silvery robe with a hood that hid her eyes.


    "Do you know their names?" the witch asked without looking.


    "From left to right," Yana said. "Renna the Scientist. Lyn the Historian. Fiona of the Morning Mist. The Elder Saint. Nydia the Midwife. Sophia the Engineer. Diana, Guardian of the Sea."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The witch removed her hat, revealing a shock of dark blue hair. "That is correct. I am the third in that list, Fiona of the Morning Mist. Your name is Yana, is that correct?"


    "Yana Justicia Sophia!" Yana said. "Dean of the University of White Chasm. I am at your service!"


    "Please have a seat Yana," Fiona said.


    Yana sat at the chair across from the witch, and for the first time she noticed that the other woman''s face was oddly covered in shining blue scales. The painting on the wall did not feature this particular detail, nor had it been mentioned in any of the histories.


    "From your name, and from the color of your hair, anyone on the street could guess that you are descended from Sophia the Engineer. I happen to be able to see your bloodline, so I can confirm this fact. Yana, do you know the significance of this table? This balcony? This cafe?"


    Yana''s mind reeled. When she looked into those glowing purple eyes, she came to a decision. "No, I do not. This is just some random cafe in White Chasm."


    Fiona shrugged. "It was in this very cafe, in this very alcove where we are sitting, where I conspired with Renna. I wrote a number on a piece of paper, and told her that I needed that quantity of spirit-ether to kill the Charlatan King and save the world."


    "Do you often come back to this alcove?" Yana asked.


    "No," Fiona replied. "This is the first time since that day. You see, I am a superstitious woman. I came here out of instinct. On that day, centuries ago, my meeting with Renna changed the world. Now, I hope to change the world again, and by coming here I hope to channel a small amount of the luck I had that day. Do you understand?"


    Yana lost all sense of ambition, all hope for the future. She wanted nothing more than to help this superstitious woman reach her own ambitions. "I will do as you command," Yana finally managed to say. "I am yours. Mind, body, and soul, I am yours."


    Fiona kicked the wooden box. Yana heard a faint glassy clank.


    "You will take this crate back to White Chasm," Fiona said.


    "What''s in the box?"


    "I will not insult your intelligence," Fiona replied. "You will know what to do when you open the box. That is not important. In a few weeks, or in a few months, two young men will arrive at White Chasm and enroll as students. You will know who they are when they arrive, and you will do nothing."


    "As you say," Yana said. "Is there anything else I should know about these young men?"


    "Follow the local laws," Fiona said. "Understand that you are protected, completely protected by myself. Relax and do not be afraid. Furthermore, I have a request."


    The witch slid two sealed tubes across the table. Yana reached forward hesitantly. She broke the first tube and slipped the rolled document out of its sheath. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a single name: Claire Aden.


    "This," Yana rasped. "This is an enrollment form. Fiona of the Morning Mist, this is extremely unusual. In the entire history of my institution, no Heritor has ever applied as a student."


    "I am happy that you appreciate the scale of the problem," Fiona said.


    Yana suppressed her doubts, her ambition, her sense of self. Mind, body, and soul, she had said. And she was a woman of her word. "Fiona, please inform me if my understanding is incorrect. I am to take this box to the University, and when I open it I will know what to do. Two young men will arrive and enroll at the University, I will know who they are and I will do nothing. Finally, these two Heritors will be allowed to enroll at the University and nobody will think anything is amiss."


    "I trust you will not fail," Fiona said. "You are dismissed."


    The witch reached for her steaming latte, but Yana had already turned to leave. She was beginning to climb down the flight of stairs to the first floor when she heard Fiona curse: "Damn, that''s still too hot!"

 Chapter 14: White Chasm

    They waited at the docks for a few days before giving up. Ethermancy simply didn''t work, and the last coal-powered steamboat had absconded with Sir Zachary the Knight of Summer on a journey to the north. Without boats and without trains, the last remaining option was old-fashioned donkeys. It was those horrible, ungrateful beasts that carried Seth and Quinn through eastern Lyn.


    Finally, Maxius announced that his aura was working again, and they made their way north to the Ash Sea, where they finally managed to book passage on a steamboat to the city of White Chasm. The journey took three weeks, and because there were no eligible females on the craft, Maxius and Seth spent the time gambling. Quinn hid below decks and worked on the design for his flying machine. In spite of his unrelenting attention, he was unable to divine the cause behind the chaotic and unexplained nose-dives that plagued the kite.


    It was a clear day when the steamboat arrived. Quinn had heard the stories, and he had read several books on the topic, but nothing had truly prepared him for his first fleeting glimpse of the greatest city in the world. White Chasm, the domain of the Flame Keepers of House Aden.


    A thousand feet high, facing each other, the cliff faces created a winding chasm between them, vanishing into unseen darkness. Between the two great bluffs, countless bridges spanned the void, connecting ledges and small spires. The bridges were so dense and so chaotic that they blocked the view. Up and up and up they went, all the way to Hightown, and the University Fjord. Far beyond, framed by the two jagged bluffs, Spire Lyn rose up into the sky, ringed with emerald bands. The bowl-shaped city at the very top gleamed white and gold. The home of the oculomancers, naked against a sapphire sky.


    The steamboat chugged across the harbor toward White Chasm. A massive wrought-iron boom spanned the harbor, connected to ancient stone castles attached to either bluff. The long beach at the base of the bluffs glowed like a golden bracelet, illuminating a horizon framed by dark cliffs and even darker water. When the steamboat came close, they flew the flag of the Theocracy of the Lawgiver. The boom lowered and allowed them to pass.


    Heritor Maxius the Younger strode onto the deck in triumph. He wore dark green robes ornamented with a grid of alternating gold squares. He had doffed his wig, revealing the natural hair that had grown in the weeks since it was shaved. It was short and stubby, but dark and masculine, and the Heritor''s face was filled with pride. This was unexpected, because Maxius had spent most of the voyage being looted by Quinn''s brother in games of chance.


    "The greatest city in the world," Maxius announced. "I am of course talking about Lawgiver City. White Chasm is a distant second."


    Quinn decided not to take the bait. Maxius was just being facetious, and even Quinn knew that. However, Seth must have caught the discomfort in Quinn''s face, because he said: "That''s not what I''ve heard. Lawgiver City has changed names at least once."


    "Exactly!" Quinn added. "The city, nation, and spire all shared the name. The ancient land of Renna."


    "Do you want to know a secret?" Maxius asked conspiratorially.


    Both Seth and Quinn huddled in to listen.


    "I was not supposed to tell you this until after I spoke with King Edwin, but now that we have arrived at White Chasm I figured I''m close enough. My father wants to revive the old House Renna."


    "Isn''t Renna dead?" Quinn protested.


    "Oh yeah, dead dead. The Bloodraker ripped Renna''s throat out after the war. My father says it''s symbolic. He wants to send a message to the Elder Saint that Renna''s dream is still alive. Besides, the men in my bloodline were always simply named ''Maxius,'' or ''Darius,'' or ''Darren.'' For the first time since the war, we will take a house name for ourselves. If only as our final act of defiance before the Elder Saint replaces us as Heritors."


    "There''s no reason to count yourself out just yet," Seth said. "Once you have our flying machine, you''ll be able to challenge the witches even in their spires."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    This seemed to be the proper response, because Maxius beamed. "I think that''s what my father wants," he said. "It''s just a bunch of women. How dangerous can they be? They hide at the top of their spires, but if we had flying machines, we could reach them easily."


    Seth and Maxius continued to argue the relative merits and advantages of the opposite sex as the steamboat barreled toward the gleaming coast. Quinn lost interest, though he did find the idea of a Great House quite appealing. Wouldn''t it be nice, he reasoned, to grant your name, wealth, ideas, and methods to your sons and grandsons forever? In the absence of some higher power, like the Elder Saint and her oculomancers, such transfer of knowledge and money between generations would be the only method available to a bloodline desiring a path forward in the great tournament of power-hungry bloodlines.


    The boat swung heaven-ward toward the loading platform, parallel to an indigo navigation light, and the pilot hopped overboard to moor the craft to the piers with ropes. Lowtown White Chasm stretched out before them, squashed like a sandwich between the bluffs and sinking into the mud. Lowtown stank, as if all the cesspools of Hightown were allowed to flow down into the chasm to infect the lower castes.


    The trek through the bridges and gantries of White Chasm was a long one, and Quinn''s knees hurt after just a few bridges. Seth plowed ahead, leaving Quinn and Maxius behind. All around was evidence of civilization, ancient civilization. Buildings were carved into the sheer face of the cliffs. Buildings that were hundreds, perhaps thousands of years old, grasping the slippery edge of stone ridges. By the time they reached midtown, the sky above was filled with stars. The day''s fog had deposited a fresh coating of snow on the upper portion of the western bluff, and Quinn instantly understood why the city earned the name White Chasm. It was literally a chasm plagued with snow, bathed in hoary white.


    Maxius wanted to stay in a church, and Seth wanted to stay in a brothel. The two men met in the middle and decided to stay the night in a tavern. The next morning, they traversed the great bridges spanning the chasm. By trusting Maxius, perhaps because of his practiced and unassailable navigation skills, or perhaps because of his choice of taverns, they ascended without incident. Quinn''s knees felt weak when he crested the cliffs and entered into the University Fjord that afternoon.


    Vast hills rolled to the south, glowing green, reflecting and accentuating the greenhouse bands of Spire Lyn. Massive snow-clad peaks arced over the fjord, creating snowy shadows in the dark places where the sun could not reach. The University Fjord was filled with bushes of all colors. Red, purple, blue, green, yellow, orange, juxtaposed against the brilliant white snow and absolute darkness.


    Hightown stretched south to north, crowning both the eastern and the western bluffs. The walled mansions and estates, pale and brilliant, looked down upon the lesser tiers of the city with contempt. But to the south, up along the slope of the fjord, the path wove through the grasslands and snowfields to a cluster of ancient buildings. A huge purple crystal tree rested in the center of the University town, glistening in the sunlight, lazily depositing sleet and rainbows into the airy sunlight.


    "That is the bank," Maxius said. "That huge purple tree. That is where the oculomancers dish out auras to prospective students."


    "What kind of a tree is that?" Quinn asked, genuinely curious.


    "It was constructed with ethermancy," Maxius replied. "Stone, fire, and lightning combined into a specific ratio by Sophia." The man exploded into a fit of coughing. "Or perhaps Annatiki Marunavi the Bloodraker," Maxius continued. "If she was alive when the tree was made. Certainly not Renna or Lyn, otherwise the tree would be dark green. If Fiona made it, then it would be dark blue. If Diana made it, then it would be gold."


    "I recognize those names," Quinn said. "Those are all the names of witches, right?"


    "Those are the names of spires," Maxius corrected. "Who knows if there are witches with those names at the top. Either way, I don''t think humans can create trees like that."


    "Are you saying that the witches are not human?" Quinn asked.


    "The ones from the stories are not human," Maxius replied. "They are something older, or newer, depending on the source. They are descended from the mortal spawn of some scaly lizard race. They seem to be able to breed with humans well enough though. My own bloodline descends from Renna, which is why my hair and eyes are both green."


    "And what about our eyes?" Seth asked. "Me and my brother both have the same eyes. Are we descended from Renna too?"


    "Lyn most likely," Maxius said. "Though I''ve never read an accurate history of your homeland so I cannot say for certain. The Aden clan stands out because of their blue eyes and raven-dark blue hair. If I had to guess, they are related to Fiona of the Morning Mist."


    Maxius pointed up to the west, at a massive stone spine that hid the horizon, bending upward to follow the join between mountain and fjord.


    "The Adens live there," he said. "Their palace is somewhere beyond that ridge. They lord over White Chasm from the Hanging Throne, their ancient family seat. They have owned and operated the University of White Chasm for as long as anyone can remember."


    "Is that where King Edwin lives?" Quinn asked.


    "Yeah, and another Aden as well," Maxius said. "Her name is Heritor Claire. Princess Claire Aden."

 Chapter 15: The Bank

    Nestled in the branches of the purple crystal tree, the bank was only accessible by gondola. Quinn admired the engineering. The cars slowly rotated around a bull wheel as people shuffled in and out. Maxius seemed to know exactly how to behave around the machine, because he was able to snag a spot in an empty car before the doors closed. Quinn and Seth were thus left behind, beholden to the instructions of the hapless operators at the base.


    All of the gondola cars were painted a lovely red color. In defiance of the laws of life and heaven, Quinn and his brother somehow ended up riding car number thirty, the only bright green gondola car. They barely had enough time to sit down inside the little car before the door closed and locked itself. It continued onward, slowly, before switching cables with an audible whirring sound. After that, the ground rapidly shrank away as the gondola car followed the cable up into the branches of the tree.


    "I wonder if this is what it looks like to fly," Quinn said. "How fast would the world drop away?"


    "You would need something better than our kite," Seth observed. "It takes all my strength just to prevent it from diving nose-first into the ground. I cannot imagine the ground ever dropping away."


    There were guards armed with rifles in front of the broad glass doors at the very top of the gondola. They vaguely resembled the soldiers in Lucia Aden''s army, wearing white trousers and black jackets ornamented with red armbands depicting the black swan of House Aden. The people walking in and out of the bank were well-dressed and generally older. In fact Quinn didn''t see anyone who looked young.


    Maxius waited for them on the gondola loading platform. He pointed at them and the guards nodded. Shortly thereafter, an oculomancer arrived. She appeared to wear the same clothing as the one that they saw in the mountains, the one accompanied by Blaine family soldiers. She wore a black hooded robe with purple epaulets, though her hood tumbled down across the nape of her neck, allowing her brown hair to flow freely over her shoulders.


    The oculomancer confronted the trio almost immediately. "Heritor Maxius the Younger," she said. "You are welcome to do business here. Please, follow me."


    She led them through the lobby to a long hallway. Long red banners hung from the ceiling, proudly displaying the black swan of House Aden. There were rugs on the floor, paintings on the walls, and golden sconces for light. The wood was varnished and polished to a shine. It smells like money, Quinn thought.


    Nobody interfered with them as they passed deep into the bank''s restricted areas to the private alcoves where the Heritors did business. The oculomancer stopped at one alcove shrouded behind bright red drapes. Quinn thought that the room beyond must be her office, because she sat down behind the desk and started shuffling through some papers. "I am certified by Spire Lyn to provide banking services for Heritors. These two boys are obviously not heritors. Heritor Maxius, you will need to clarify your relationship with these two commoners before we are able to proceed."


    "My father wishes to grant an honorable reward," Maxius said as he handed her the two documents his father signed. "They saved me after I was captured by Heritor Zachary."Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The oculomancer looked at Maxius suspiciously. "You know," she said, "I am of the opinion that you are telling the truth. Nonetheless, your story is extraordinary, and I am going to need a second opinion."


    She stood up, turned to the south, and simply stared up toward the cornice where the ceiling met the southern window. She remained there, motionless and silent, for a few minutes. Seth and Maxius began to whisper to each other, no doubt about the woman''s physical attributes.


    When the oculomancer returned to her seat, she looked over the two documents that Maxius had given her, then checked her ledgers. "Everything checks out," she said. "Stay here, I am going to go get a maiden. Oh, but before I do that, I have a question. Do you intend to cause harm to the maiden when she arrives?"


    "They do not," Maxius replied instantly.


    "What?" Quinn asked.


    "It''s a standard question," the oculomancer said. "Please answer it."


    "Of course I do not intend to cause harm," Quinn said. "I have no idea who or what a maiden even is."


    "I''m not going to hurt any maidens," Seth said with a chuckle. "I only give maidens the very best of memories."


    "You are telling the truth. That''s good. Very well, I will be back soon."


    Quinn found the maiden to be deeply disturbing. She was clad in thick white robes and a magenta scarf, which was already somewhat cultish. On top of that, her face looked completely blank. She just stared off into space, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room.


    "I store spirit-ether," the maiden said in a monotone voice.


    "You are now going to administer spirit-ether to this man," the oculomancer said, pointing to Quinn. "You will administer exactly enough spirit-ether required to construct an aura of the first harmonic. You will shape this spirit-ether into a standard spherical aura and bind it to him." The oculomancer produced a sheet of paper marked with a complex pattern printed with various colors of ink. "You will mark the aura with this pattern."


    The woman walked up to Quinn and placed her hand on his chest. Then he immediately felt something. The room around him felt different, like he was floating in a liquid, or if he suddenly gained the ability to experience the air around him in a new way. He felt like he could reach out, and do something to it. He tried reaching out with his mind, questing for the source of that feeling. Something pushed back, an impenetrable barrier, as cold and thoughtless as the rule of law itself.


    "Don''t do that again," the oculomancer snapped.


    "Don''t do what again?" Quinn asked.


    "All the ether in the building is already claimed," she continued. "Wait until you get off the gondola before trying to do that again, please."


    "I will instruct him on the proper etiquette," Maxius said. "My family takes full responsibility for his behavior. In the meantime, you will need to forgive his ignorance. There are certain mitigating circumstances. For example, Heritor Kiera was preventing us from training with auras."


    The oculomancer flinched. "I see, yes. Heritor Kiera was an unfortunate edge case. Please be a diligent student, Quinn, and listen to Heritor Maxius when he gives you instruction."


    The process was repeated for Seth, though the pattern on the paper was different. These two pieces of paper were filed away with the original documents signed by Maxius the Elder. Throughout the process, Maxius and Seth continued to gossip about the woman''s wide hips. If the oculomancer heard them, she did not react in any way.


    "Heritor Maxius," the oculomancer finally said. "Is there anything else that I can help you with today?"


    "I know my way around the bank," Maxius said. "I will show them the way out."


    "How do they know we won''t stay here," Quinn asked after they left. "How do they stop people from just roaming around the bank stealing stuff?"


    "That oculomancer I can see your aura no matter where you go," Maxius explained. "You could be on the opposite side of the continent and they would know exactly where you are."

 Chapter 16: The Dean

    When they successfully downloaded from the gondola, Maxius the Younger abandoned them in the little town outside the purple crystal tree, in spite of his promise. With an appeal to a higher power (in this case the cherished Lawgiver), he ordered a steam-powered autocar to carry him west, toward the jagged spine looming over the fjord, beyond which lay the private hunting grounds of House Aden, the so-called Western Face. Quinn wanted to analyze the little machine, but it was well-guarded by a small gaggle of oculomancers and Aden family soldiers.


    The fog was beginning to roll in over the steep valley walls to the east, and soon Seth and Quinn found themselves completely rudderless in the little town. Seth found a little coffee shop called the Seven Witches Cafe, and shortly thereafter he managed to extract directions to the University from one of the baristas. Burdened with heavy wallets, the two brothers set off in search of their destiny, somewhere to the north, lost in the oppressive fog. All the while, Quinn struggled to comprehend the alien sensations that had assaulted him since he received his new aura.


    They knew they had found the University when they stumbled upon six belfries surrounding a huge marble fountain. The young men stalking the courtyard all shared that unmistakable combination of aloofness and aimless determination that marked them as college students. In the face of Seth''s relentless diplomatic assault, the University students quickly divulged the location of the office of the dean of White Chasm.


    The University of White Chasm resembled a type of crumby old castle, not dissimilar to Castle Noxus, but more spread out across lawns and courtyards and the occasional graveyard. Some of the buildings looked dank and uninviting, while others resembled magnificent religious monuments. The dean''s office was located on the second floor of the library. It was, in Quinn''s estimation, the most terrifying building in the world. The library resembled a clean, well-lit sewer, all narrow bone-white tunnels packed with sturdy wooden shelves coated with varnish and burdened with leather bound tomes. Aden family soldiers with rifles and sabers patrolled the structure, and while they looked intimidating at first, they were in fact quite helpful sources of information.


    Up a flight of crumbling stairs within one of the bone-white tunnels, there was a massive wooden door that was so heavy that a soldier needed to be summoned to open it. Beyond this formidable barrier, the two brothers came upon a more reasonable door labeled: "Yana Justicia Sophia, Dean."


    "That''s a lot of names," Seth observed.


    They registered with the oculomancer in the waiting room outside the dean''s office, and then they were almost immediately allowed to enter, preempting the students who had been waiting since before lunch.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    The dean''s office contained unkempt stacks of papers as well as a small white wooden box painted with some type of winged purple reptile. The box had already been opened and a handful of thermometers were scattered haphazardly around its base. The dean herself proved to be a thin middle-aged woman with a long face and a knowing smile. Like most of the officials and soldiers in the town, she was garbed in black and red, with the unmistakable black swan crest of the Aden clan prominent on her breast.


    "What are your names?" she demanded, even before they had closed the door.


    "I''m Seth," Seth said as he hastily took a seat across from the woman.


    "I''m Quinn," Quinn added as he pulled a chair from the corner to sit beside Seth.


    "Why are you here?" the dean asked.


    "We want to learn ethermancy," Quinn said.


    "Obviously," the dean said. "I have memorized the names and faces of every single Heritor in the world, and you are certainly not heritors. Which makes you commoners. And since this is the only school in the world that teaches ethermancy to commoners, that must be why you are here. Now, my question still stands. Why are you here?"


    "To learn ethermancy," Quinn repeated.


    "I think she wants to know about our project," Seth said.


    "What project?" the dean snapped.


    "I''m the world-famous Flying Man," Seth said confidently. "We are going to build a flying machine, and we are going to use ethermancy to power it."


    The whole gamut of human emotions danced across the dean''s face. It took her three whole seconds to master her extended reaction and restore her face to that of the disinterested bureaucrat. For some inexplicable reason, she suddenly became cognizant of the white wooden box on her desk. She greedily gathered the scattered thermometers into the box and squirreled the thing away under her desk.


    "You would not have made it past my clerk without auras," the dean said. "She has the eyes, after all. Very well, do you have enough money to pay for tuition?"


    Seth slapped his wallet, which responded with a hearty metallic clanking sound.


    "We have enough money to pay for tuition this year," Quinn said. "We also have promissory notes that will allow us to pay for three more years."


    He grabbed the documents out of his jacket and offered them to the dean. She regarded them very briefly and then handed them back.


    "According to the laws of Lyn in general, and the laws of White Chasm specifically, everything looks in order. While I can tell you are both from Lyn, I would recommend asking an oculomancer for a passport. Do not go through the immigration center if you were born in Lyn. Classes are already in session, so it is somewhat unusual for you to join the University right now. However, there is no legal reason why you should be rejected, and if you have the money for tuition, then I''m not going to stop you from spending it."


    Satisfied with her rambling, the dean stamped their papers and waved them away.


    "Please ask my clerk to send the next group in," she said.

 Chapter 17: Weaves

    Kiera rose from her massive frilly bed at first light and watched the sun rise from within the half-hexagon turret window suspended beyond the edge of Spire Annatiki. The sky was the color of fire, and the fog rolled over the land like a tide of blood. The Sister World also seemed to be burning, her atmosphere streaked with crimson rivulets which disintegrated into the void as bloody mist. For a brief second Kiera could clearly see a thin sheen, a spider-web mesh of black fractures that enveloped both worlds. A moment later it was gone.


    The door to her chamber opened without warning. Kiera flinched because she was only wearing a thin shift that was almost transparent in the morning light. It was only Fiona, however, and for a moment Kiera felt foolish. The entire spire was filled with women, after all. There weren''t even locks on any of the doors.


    Fiona was holding a few hangars draped with new clothes. "It''s traditional to wear this when flying," she said.


    The frilly dress was a lovely shade of blue, light and airy like the sky at noon, hued with a hint of purple. There was a matching wide-brimmed hat, tall and pointy.


    When Kiera finished getting dressed, she found Fiona out in the hallway. "These fit perfectly!" she reported.


    "Our tailors are thralls," Fiona said. "They''ve had plenty of time to perfect the craft."


    "That is somewhat uncomfortable to think about."


    Fiona led Kiera out onto the upper surface of the city. There was one of those predatory flying machines parked, similar to the one Kiera had seen on her flight to the spire. Half a dozen oculomancers fussed over the machine, walking around opening and closing panels and checking off boxes on long checklists. Their sharp movements and serious faces indicated that they were all well-trained soldiers. They saluted Fiona when she got close to the craft.


    A pair of women drove a small motorized truck under the wing of the craft. There was a white tube-like device mounted on the truck bed. One end was shaped like a cone painted red, and the other end featured four fins arranged in a cross. The women on the ground lifted the heavy thing and mounted it on a pylon on the bottom of the airplane''s wings. There were already at least three such tubes mounted on the other pylons. Fiona walked up to the new tube and unscrewed the red cone at the front. The cone slid off, revealing a glass dome underneath. Inside the glass there was an oculomancer eyeball attached to some tubes.


    "Eww!" Kiera said.


    The eyeball twitched. Fiona screwed the cap back on.


    "Yeah, if you think that''s gross, wait until you see how these missiles are made."


    "I''m not certain I want to know."


    Fiona began to circle the craft, checking off boxes on her own checklist. "It requires a human sacrifice," she began. "At the heart of this missile you will find the beating heart of an etherborne, kept alive with a life support system that only lasts a few hours. Of course, these things are relatively expensive. The Elder Saint could buy an entire kingdom worth of land at current market prices, and it would be cheaper than the cost of a single missile."


    The oculomancers fetched a ladder from the truck and propped it up against the airplane. Satisfied with her checklists, Fiona climbed up to the glass canopy and climbed inside. She called down to Kiera, "Climb on up!"


    Kiera slowly ascended the steps and awkwardly climbed into her seat behind Fiona. There was a stick jutting right up between her legs. Directly ahead, every inch of the dashboard was cluttered with glass gauges and switches. The cabin was cramped, but not quite as cramped as the first airplane. Like the first airplane, there were moving pedals at the end of each foot. Kiera stretched her legs and accidentally compressed one of the pedals.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Try not to touch anything," Fiona said gently.


    "Should I take my hat off?" Kiera asked.


    "Probably, yeah. We oculomancers can see straight through our hats, in fact we can see straight through the fuselage of the jet. But you don''t have your eyes yet."


    An oculomancer climbed up and closed the canopy. She saluted Fiona one more time then the ladder was taken away.


    "Pay attention to what I do," Fiona said. "Try to feel the weaves. If you can manage it, try to replicate them."


    It had taken several days for Kiera to adjust to the sensation of raw dream-ether pushing down on her from all directions. Once she had overcome that hurdle, it became relatively simple to repurpose her existing knowledge of ethermancy. At present, Kiera was able to use all of the weaves she had learned at the Eight Color Monastery. It was not difficult to sense Fiona''s weave.


    "Wind aspect," Kiera said.


    "That is correct," Fiona said. "This weave is used to pressurize the air around my body. You will need to replicate the weave for yourself as well."


    "Why didn''t we need to do that on the other airplane?" Kiera asked.


    "Excellent question. The reason is related to shape. The airplane that we used to fly here had a circular cross section. It could be pressurized without causing stress to the hull. This craft is a fighter jet, and it is not shaped with a circular cross section. We cannot pressurize the entire interior, so we need a weave to create a local pressure field around our bodies."


    Kiera replicated the weave, and suddenly the sound of the women working and shouting outside the craft became muted.


    "Excellent," Fiona said, her voice a distant whisper. "One consequence of this particular weave is that it will also protect your ears from the sound of the engine."


    "It is difficult to hear you!" Kiera shouted.


    "The alternative is worse!" Fiona shouted back. "There is one other weave that you will need to use."


    The next weave was significantly more complex, and yet much easier for Kiera to grasp. In fact, it combined mild self-healing with a fairly intense form of pressure on the lower body to push blood up toward the head.


    "Life aspect," she said.


    "Correct. That is the last of the weaves you will need to use. I alone will use the other weaves required to fly this thing."


    The first of Fiona''s weaves required water aspect, and it appeared to pressurize the water in some tubes in every direction. The next weave used fire, lightning, and wind aspects for three separate purposes. There appeared to be an important piece of metal near the back of the airplane, and using metal aspect Kiera was able to explore its shape. It was a long shaft with funny blades jutting out radially from the center. The lightning caused the shaft to spin temporarily, the wind filled the space between the blades with compressed air, and finally the fire aspect ignited the compressed air in a chamber beyond the end of the shaft. Once the lightning and wind aspects stopped, the fire continued, powering the entire engine by itself.


    "Please don''t quest with metal aspect while we are flying," Fiona warned.


    "Sorry!"


    With the engine humming along, Fiona maintained only four weaves, using wind, water, fire, and life aspects. All but one of the oculomancers on the ground packed up and marched off. The last remaining oculomancer held two glowing batons, one green and one indigo. She waved them around and made funny gestures that Kiera assumed Fiona could understand.


    "Why do you need so many weaves for this airplane?" Kiera asked. "I don''t remember feeling anything when you were flying the other one."


    "This airplane is powered entirely by magic," Fiona said. "The other airplane was powered by electricity and kerosene. And before you ask, it doesn''t matter. Both of those technologies are unavailable on the surface. The reason why will become apparent shortly. Anyways, the other airplane was designed by Sophia, one of the witches left alive after the war. This fighter jet is much, much older. In fact, the design was ancient before the first settlers came to our world."


    "I did not know the first settlers had airplanes like this," Kiera said.


    "That is one of the things that was censured by the oculomancers after the war. I happen to have a copy of The Binding of Ashe, one of the books associated with the ancient Church of the Lady Ghost. As far as I can tell, it does not directly contradict any of my lived experiences. If the stories are correct, then this stealth fighter was invented by an aeronautical engineer named Vaska. I know that it is hearsay, but Reyndell once told me that Father Winter told him that the Tombs of the Founders were created by Vaska."


    "I shall not enter into the Tombs of the Founders," Kiera recited.


    "You shall," Fiona corrected. "In time, you shall."

 Chapter 18: Blue Skies and Murder

    The long road that spanned the whole of Spire Annatiki, which Fiona called a "runway," was closed by the time they arrived to hold short for takeoff. In the very center of the upper surface the runway split down the middle and both halves lifted, carried away to either side on huge metal arms. A massive metal platform rose to fill the void, carrying the six-engine behemoth that Kiera had seen inside the city when they first arrived. Ever so slowly, the other airplane drove toward them.


    "There is only one reason why Annatiki would pull out that airplane," Fiona observed. "It''s almost time for Witch Day. The Sister World is looking pretty angry,"


    "What is Witch Day?" Kiera asked.


    "The bankers and Heritors call it Ethersleep," Fiona replied.


    "Oh right! I remember that happened once when I was a child. The servants were burning these strange blue candles all night."


    "Up here in the spires we call it Witch Day. The free dream-ether in the atmosphere vanishes for about a day or so."


    "What causes it?"


    "It''s a natural phenomenon," Fiona said dryly. "Just like everything else that happens in the atmosphere."


    "That''s a lie!" Kiera accused.


    "Of course it''s a lie!"


    The massive airplane reached the end of the runway directly ahead and the front wheel rotated perpendicular to the body. This had the effect of causing the airplane to slowly begin to rotate around, like the hand of a clock. Sunlight caught the huge T-tail as it jutted over the edge of the spire. The sun had not yet risen high enough to illuminate the runway itself. Even as Kiera watched, the sky was slowly losing its red hue in favor of a color that matched the hat on her lap.


    "Fiona, I saw something strange at dawn."


    "Yeah?"


    "It looked like a black fishnet that surrounded the Sister World. It was only visible for a second or so, and as it vanished the effect spread down the conduit to our own sky for another second. Then it was gone. I have been watching the sky, but I have not seen it since."


    "That is not the first time I have heard such a thing," Fiona said. "I have never seen it myself, and in fact no oculomancer has ever reported it. I can only assume that oculomancers cannot see it. However, I do not doubt that it exists. A few bankers and Heritors, who spent at least one night in the spires, have reported seeing the exact thing you describe. I have personally interviewed such people and I can verify that they were telling the truth."


    "Do you have any idea what it could be?"


    "I once told you that Mother Summer and Father Winter abandoned our world when they discovered what Reyndell could do."


    "Sacrilege!"


    "I already told you, Reyndell was telling the truth when he told me that story. He personally knew both of them. Reyndell claimed that they were both charlatans looking for a good time. They wanted somebody to remember them and worship them here in our world. Anyway that''s not the point. Reyndell was a man, and therefore he was not an oculomancer. He spent his entire life living up in these spires, and he never saw the phenomenon."


    Kiera was trying not to scream at the other woman. She had devoted her entire life to the worship of Mother Summer. "So?" she asked. "What does that prove?"


    "There are two possibilities," Fiona said. "The most-likely possibility is that the phenomenon appeared after Reyndell died. The less-likely possibility is that Reyndell never noticed it. However, the latter possibility is not impossible. I choose to subscribe to a third possibility, that the phenomenon first appeared very shortly after Reyndell died, not because he died but because of pure coincidence."


    "What kind of sick madman Reyndell must have been," Kiera said distractedly. "To say that Mother Summer was a charlatan! What an ass!"


    The six engines on the huge airplane began to roar. It lurched forward and began to barrel down the runway, leaving huge clouds of rippling-hot air in its wake. Fiona remained silent until the other airplane was far away, but even then Kiera could still hear the distant rumble.


    "Look," Fiona continued, "if you want a god to worship, I''ll give you my copy of The Binding of Ashe. As long as you promise to take care of it. Either way, you didn''t let me finish. I personally believe that some external entity, perhaps this Vaska character, created a barrier that prevents us from leaving. A long time ago, Renna learned how to fly all the way to the witchstone. She found a single Founder''s Tomb there, but she was unable to open it. Ever since Reyndell died, nobody has been able to get anywhere close to the witchstone. I''ve flown all over the world and all over the Sister World and I''ve flown up the conduit and up every sub-conduit, and I can personally attest that there is no escape. We are trapped here. I think that you saw the bars of our cage."


    The huge six-engine airplane lifted off into the sky, pitched down, and sank below the edge of the spire as it crossed out of the spire sub-conduit. The whole fighter jet jolted when Fiona released the brakes. She drove the craft forward along the taxiway, and even as they were turning onto the runway the power lever lurched forward and the engine began to roar.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Faster and faster they went. The white lines painted on the runway blurred together. If Kiera rotated her head quickly like a ballet dancer, she could just barely make out the small undulations of darkness on the snowfields to either side of the runway. The needles on the gauges were rising.


    "I am going to pull up on the stick and you are going to experience five times gravity," Fiona warned. "Focus on your life aspect weave. Get ready."


    Suddenly the nose of the craft pitched up sharply, and the ground dropped away. Almost immediately, Kiera''s body felt extremely heavy. Her vision narrowed and began to gray out. Instinctively, she began to pour dream-ether into her life aspect weave, pushing the blood up toward her head, counteracting the inexplicable sensation of abnormal gravity. The whole world rotated around them until the nose faced the apex of the heavens. Dazed but awake, Kiera glanced in every direction. The fighter jet was trailing a long plume of white mist, twisting like a helix down toward the shrinking white plate crowning Spire Annatiki.


    "I am going to level off and then flip over," Fiona announced.


    Maddeningly, the world began to rotate around them until they were perfectly inverted. The sky above was white and cloudy, the ground below was a deep blue. At an abstract level, Kiera knew that the blue sky was above them, however gravity was pointing in that direction, and her body told her that the sky was down. When the nose of the craft reached the horizon, the whole affair suddenly tipped over like a falling cat and then they were upright. The altimeter and airspeed gauges went haywire as they passed through the edge of the sub-conduit, but the momentum of the fighter jet kept them going perfectly straight.


    "Now I am going to bank and turn to the left," Fiona said. "Expect seven times gravity."


    Kiera poured all the power she could muster into her life aspect weave, and it certainly helped. The craft flipped on knife''s edge, then the nose of the craft sharply pulled up and the whole world rotated around them. The sensation of being in the center of a snow globe returned, but this time it was much stronger. They were not flying, they were staying in the same place while they commanded the whole world to move around them.


    Spire Erika loomed overhead, and Spire Lyn to the south was a tiny fence post of stone, too close and moving too fast. Kiera realized with horror that they would fly right over Spire Lyn, a distance that would take six weeks by steamboat, after just a few minutes.


    "How fast are we going?" Kiera asked, horrified.


    "The air is thin up here," Fiona replied. "We don''t measure our speed in knots like we do on the surface. Up here we report our speed relative to the speed of sound. Our current speed is zero-point-eight. We never fly faster than sound because we don''t want to create sonic booms that can be heard on the ground. However, in an emergency, this craft can fly at two times the speed of sound, at least."


    "I don''t know what that means!" Kiera admitted.


    "A male witch was reported in northern Zairo," Fiona said.


    "Zairo!" Kiera exclaimed. "That''s so far away!"


    "We will be there in a few minutes," Fiona continued. "As I said, a male witch. Our job is to kill him."


    "Our job?"


    "Your job," Fiona corrected. "You will pull the trigger."


    "I don''t want to kill anyone!"


    "You promised Annatiki you would help subjugate the etherborn," Fiona said. "Sometimes the witchstone randomly creates new male witches. It takes about two weeks for their powers to fully develop, in which time we have a window to kill them without retaliation. One of my duties is to fly above the fog and lob missiles down at the bastards."


    "That''s horrible!" Kiera complained.


    "The alternative is worse," Fiona said.


    She really likes that phrase, Kiera thought.


    "The missile is locked on the target, you need to grasp the stick and pull the trigger."


    "I don''t want to kill anyone!" Kiera repeated.


    "You will help Annatiki subjugate the etherborne. She is an oculomancer, and the next time she asks you, you will truthfully tell her that you killed this male witch."


    "I''ve changed my mind!"


    "Do you know what male witches can do?" Fiona screamed. "The first thing they do is they make themselves smarter. They use the life aspect to vastly increase their own intelligence. This is something that female witches cannot do. Second, they use heaven aspect to slow down their own perception of time, also something that female witches cannot do. Third, they use their advanced intelligence and slowed time to plot world domination, complete subjugation of all females, genocide, a genetic reshaping of our world. We have seen it over and over and over again."


    Hands trembling, Kiera reached for the stick and pulled the trigger. There was a click, and one of the funny white tubes rocketed off the wings toward the horizon, leaving a white trail through the sky.


    Then she saw, and felt, something truly horrible. A heinous, revolting red aura of some sort started burning around the tube as it fell. Even from the vast distance between her and the tube, Kiera knew that something was very wrong with that thing.


    "What is that?!" Kiera said.


    "A burning spirit-ether entropic field," Fiona said. "It disables etherborne powers. That missile is designed specifically for killing witches."


    The missile vanished into the fog. The profane sensation continued for a few more seconds, before ending in a crescendo of wrongness. It rapidly faded away, and then Kiera felt nothing abnormal, not from the fighter jet and not from the world outside.


    "No trace of etherborne powers anymore," Fiona said. "Mission success, Kiera. I''ll tell Annatiki that you have helped subjugate the etherborne. She will be very pleased with your progress."


    "Who, who did I just kill?" She asked.


    "His powers were about to manifest. I would say he was about twenty-two years old. Lived alone in the woods across the river from a village. A hunter. That missile should not have hit anyone else. As I said before, we have a short window of a few weeks where we can see his powers before they actually manifest. Timing for this sort of thing is very important. A strike mission like this is ideal for witches that manifest in rural areas."


    "Do you know his name?"


    "No, the oculomancers in the spy aircraft can see things like relative age and sex but we don''t ever get close enough to them to really know who they are. Not unless they live in a major city in which case we can''t exactly blow them up with a missile."


    "You only do this to male witches, right?"


    "Mostly," Fiona said. "Female witches are given the opportunity to serve. If they do not conform to our personality profiles, we cut them up and put them in our missiles. Otherwise, they end up in the spires, serving Annatiki."


    Kiera shivered. "And that won''t happen to me, right?"


    "You? Turned into a missile?" Fiona laughed. "No, no. You are far too powerful. Annatiki would need to rip your throat out, and coat the wound with spirit-ether entropy gel."


    And my final moments, Kiera realized, would be lost in that profane wrongness.


    She swore a silent oath that she would never hesitate to kill a male witch ever again.

 Chapter 19: History Class

    There were two floors of student housing at the University of White Chasm. The lower floor was reserved for commoners, and the upper floor was reserved for minor nobles, such as Lords, Ladies, and Viscounts. The only people ambitious enough to name themselves "Emperor" or "King" were the Heritors, and nobody dared challenge the titles that they granted themselves. After all, they had auras the size of cities. Also, they had their own Eight Color Monastery, and no Heritor in history had ever debased themselves by schooling with the lesser castes.


    The dormitories were all old wooden things, warped beyond structural integrity. If not for the efforts of the Ethermancy Enthusiast Club, the place would have long ago succumbed to lethal quantities of black mold. Seth immediately seduced one of the females on the second floor, so during that first weekend he was absent from his little corner of Quinn''s room, leaving Quinn alone with his books. The oval green rug on the floor was his only companion in the lamplight as he attempted to catch up with the few weeks of classes that he had missed.


    Bright and early in the morning, Quinn found Seth in the fog and they walked through the tall, wet, muddy grass to the lecture halls on the west side of campus. There were at least four different architectural styles in the University: warped wood, glorious marble, dank old stone, and a strange bone-like substance that seemed to predate all the others. The lecture halls were constructed from the latter material, huge crab shells of eerie white bone decorated without by statues of Mother Summer and Father Winter. Within, they were dark, horrible places, shaped like amphitheaters with descending tiers of chairs surrounding an elevated lecture platform. Huge clerestory windows focused the light down on the professor''s dais, like some petty god or emperor.


    Professor Morne stood upon the platform in silence, waiting for the students to shuffle in. Like the other faculty, he wore dark robes decorated with red and silver filigree. The huge black swan emblem on his chest marked him as being a distant relative of House Aden, the ruling family. He was quite bald, though his black-gray beard supplemented this deficiency. One of his drooping eyes was hidden behind a thin monocle.


    Many of the students around the room were garbed in uniforms clearly associated with various Heritors. Some of them wore the shades of blue associated with the Empire of Nydia, some wore the blood-red robes of Vjiskald, while others wore the orange-green uniforms of Truscasia. The students from the Theocracy of the Lawgiver wore white-green uniforms, curiously with the gavel sigil armbands ripped off.


    After some announcements and a few other logistical concerns, Professor Morne began his lecture. "Over the past few weeks, we discussed the humans and the draconic whelps who migrated to our world. Previous quizzes will only constitute a small portion of your final grades. The real meat of this course begins today.


    "Modern history begins with the discovery of the witchstone. Renna the Witch, the descendant of a Green Dragon whelp, was the first to attempt to study the celestial object. She concluded that its location in the heavens was correlated with the rate of creation of new witches here in our world. Reyndell, the descendent of the Purple Dragon whelp named Marunavi, and the most powerful witch in the world, was the first to prove that the influence of the witchstone could not be mitigated."


    I just want to invent flying machines, Quinn thought.


    Catching this lapse in attention, Seth punched Quinn in the ribs. He struggled not to cry out and interrupt the lecture.


    "Thus began the decades-long war between Renna and Reyndell. At the end of this war, Renna would be named The Scientist, and Reyndell would forever be remembered as The Charlatan King. Unfortunately, due to the savage and prolonged nature of the war, accurate records did not survive. In the end, the world was nearly destroyed by a magic ritual. The Charlatan King siphoned most of the water from the Sister World here to our planet, which had the effect of completely destroying the climate here. Four out of the five major continents were drowned, and the survivors who managed to find boats were exterminated before reaching the shores of our plateau.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    "During the war with Renna, the Charlatan King developed a style of magic that allowed him to modify souls. He used this new type of magic to corrupt his own family. Famously, he corrupted his own daughter, Annatiki, and transformed her into the Bloodraker, a weapon that even Renna feared. While Renna held the advantage in terms of magical and technological development, Reyndell enjoyed absolute control over the Bloodraker. Some said that it was a stalemate, but Renna knew the truth. Eventually Reyndell would win, and the Bloodraker was destined to be her doom.


    "At the time, Fiona of the Morning Mist, ancestor of the modern Aden clan, was one of Reyndell''s concubines. She was the first to reach out to Renna to negotiate the terms of a temporary alliance. Renna developed a magical technique that temporarily granted the Bloodraker enough power to kill Reyndell. Once Reyndell was dead, the Bloodraker killed Renna. Then down the list she kept going, like shopping for groceries. Most of the witches in the world were dead before Renna''s technique collapsed and the Bloodraker was vulnerable. When the key moment came, the Elder Saint killed the Bloodraker and took control of our world."


    Quinn raised his hand.


    "What is your name?" Professor Morne asked.


    "Quinn!"


    "Mister Quinn, do you have a question?"


    "Where did the Elder Saint come from?" Quinn asked.


    "She was just some random witch in hiding," Professor Morne replied. "There was an entire spectrum of witches between Reyndell and Annatiki, witches who waited for Renna''s spell to wane. The Elder Saint happened to be the strongest of the lot. Once she killed the Bloodraker, she leveraged the oculomancers to write her into history."


    "If anyone can write themselves into history," Quinn shouted, "then how do we know the Elder Saint is real? What if the Bloodraker never died? What if she just... went on pretending to be the Elder Saint?"


    "An excellent question," Professor Morne said. "In fact, I invite you to spend ten or fifteen years reading the primary sources yourself. Then, if you still believe such a thing, I invite you to present your evidence before the faculty of this University. It would be a landmark discovery. However, as my student, I do not expect you to read all of the primary sources. If you choose to do so, it must be on your own time."


    Another student raised her hand. "Professor!"


    "Yes?"


    "What spell did the Bloodraker use to kill Reyndell?"


    "Excellent question! Unfortunately, both Renna and Annatiki are dead, so we have no way of knowing."


    How convenient, Quinn thought.


    "Oh! Before I forget," the Professor said. He pointed up to the open door of the lecture hall, where an oculomancer stood beside an open crate. She held what appeared to be a blue torch in one hand. "On your way out, be sure to grab an ether candle. The meteorologists say that we might experience an Ethersleep soon. If you have a quiz or other exam during the Ethersleep, you may need to ignite the candle. If you work for a steamboat or steam engine company, your company will provide sufficient ether candles to continue operating during Ethersleep."


    Quinn waved his hand in the air.


    "Yes Mister Quinn?" the Professor asked with a hint of exhaustion.


    "What is Ethersleep?" Quinn asked.


    "You are new here, so you must have missed the lecture where your ethermancy professor covered the topic. Very well. Ethersleep is an atmospheric phenomenon where most of the free ether in the atmosphere is consumed without warning. This tends to happen a few days or weeks after the Sister World glows with red or magenta light. We have ether candles that you can burn which will allow you to continue to use ethermancy. Please acquire one before you leave the building."


    "What can cause ethermancy to stop working even with a candle?" Quinn asked.


    "Only the witches can answer that question," Professor Morne replied. "There are some things that cannot be determined with science or through the study of history. Typically, it is because there is some active agent that does not leave behind a written record of their actions. If you were to ask my professional opinion, I would say that there was a spat between Heritor Alyesha and Heritor Maxius the Younger, and the Elder Saint picked a side. It has nothing to do with us."


    Satisfied with this answer, Quinn nodded. Seth punched him in the leg, and he slumped down into his chair.

 Chapter 20: Witch Day

    They flew south-west at dusk, skirting the dense blanket of fog. The horizon directly ahead was an angry crimson, sandwiched between rose-gold clouds and indigo heavens. But the Sister World was angrier still. Spire Erika was so close that it almost completely blocked sight of that desert planet, but the crackling magenta lightning at the fringes of her atmosphere were still visible. The great conduit soared above them, undulations of white and teal against the darkening sky, yanked upward to a point like a vast bedsheet.


    Kiera was terrified that they were going to keep flying straight and smash right into the side of Spire Erika. The thing was so huge that her senses betrayed her. In truth, she had no idea how far away the thing was.


    "I am going to pull into a sharp vertical climb," Fiona warned. "Expect nine times gravity."


    Mother Summer!


    Kiera poured all her power into her life-aspect weave. She also clenched her butt muscles like Fiona had taught her, and gritted her teeth for good measure. The leading edge slats drooped, the two rudders tipped inward, and the entire horizontal stabilizer flexed up with frightful force. Fiona claimed the hydraulics on the horizontal stabilizer were powerful enough to take a man''s head off. More powerful, even, than Sir Zachary''s spear, though Kiera found this latter assertion questionable.


    The nose of the fighter jet pitched up violently, causing clouds to form on the wings to either side. Soon the nose was pointed parallel to the great stone wall of Spire Erika, and in defiance of gravity they ascended toward a false horizon. The shadowed stone replaced the ground, while the airy limit of the conduit took the place of a sky above. Perhaps if we kept going, Kiera thought, we would reach the Sister World, and then this would be a horizon in truth.


    Fiona kept them flying straight until they reached the apex of the spire. The altimeter, which was switched to its second mode, read seventy thousand feet.


    "I am going to perform several maneuvers in a row," Fiona announced. "Expect between five and seven times gravity."


    Just as they cleared the eastern escarpment of Spire Erika, the fighter jet rolled over and then pulled up. This caused the G-force to aim up at the Sister World, in a long arc radially about the escarpment as a fixed point. Directly ahead and "above," the stone sky featured an upside-down runway, long and gleaming with colorful lights. A dozen upside-down airplanes were already parked on a lot at the far end, some fighter jets, and some six-engine monsters.


    The G-forces subsided and Kiera began to fall up toward the apex of the spire. Her descent was arrested by the harness pressing against her shoulders. Lazily, Fiona began to roll upright, using the rudders to keep the nose aligned with the center of the runway. A metallic grinding sound announced the lowering of the landing gear just seconds before the tires struck the runway with all the force of a lover''s kiss. It was, even in Kiera''s limited estimation, a perfect landing, executed with a practiced style.


    When they reached the end of the runway, Fiona parked the craft and they both used wind-aspect weaves to levitate down to the ground. The western escarpment was directly ahead, and there, looming even above the T-tails of the six-engine haulers, stood a small spire of stone, jutting out into the airy conduit. Hundreds of dull metal spikes, each as tall as buildings, were arrayed radially about the small spire. Within, a legion of oculomancers prostrated themselves upon the stone. Further still, four witches stood facing the Elder Saint, all wearing tall pointy hats. The Elder Saint''s mother-of-pearl robes seemed to glow with ghostly light in the dusky shadows.


    The impenetrable fog far below was thick enough to cover all but the highest peaks. A squadron of fighter jets flew up through the conduit directly ahead, leaving long white trails in the sky, as if in salute to the Elder Saint. Closer still, a single black fighter jet rocketed past the western escarpment, her wings burdened with a cacophony of missiles and bombs. The sky exploded with the sound of a roaring river, combined with the crackle of a campfire.


    When Fiona and Kiera arrived, the Elder Saint said, "Seven of eight. Soon, we shall begin."


    "Seven of eight," Fiona agreed. "The last of us was behind. Her pilot should be on approach now."


    Indeed, when Kiera turned to face east, she saw the flashing landing light of a fighter jet on approach. The wings wobbled a few times before the craft vanished beyond the huge black T-tail of the nearby cargo airplane.


    Four witches regarded Kiera with glowing purple eyes, framed by glowing teal fractures. Toward the south, the first witch wore pale cream robes and a matching pointy hat. Her skin was the color and luster of obsidian, her hair a coppery red-yellow, and the scales on her cheeks and forehead were brilliant gold. She grinned with a too-white smile. "Hello Heritor Kiera. Or should I say, Kiera the Mender? You are one of us now, after all."


    "Kiera the Mender," Kiera replied with a deep bow.


    "Well met," the witch said. "I am called Diana, Guardian of the Sea."A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The second witch had pale skin like everyone else in Kiera''s life. The woman had dark green hair with matching scales. Her robes and hat were a drab olive color, decorated with slashes of darker brown. "I am Lyn the Historian," she said. "Kiera the Mender, I hope you enjoy your first Witch Day."


    The third woman resembled Annatiki. Hair and scales were deep purple, her robes and hat were shining mother-of-pearl. Beyond this similarity, she stood out, even among the witches gathered before Kiera, because of her outrageous bosom. She is going to break her back and fall over, Kiera thought. How uncomfortable!


    The woman''s full lips twisted into a smile. "I am called Nydia the Midwife," the witch said. "I paired your father with your mother, and shortly thereafter I pulled you kicking and screaming into this world."


    "With Mother Summer''s blessing," Kiera said.


    "Oh how I wish I could wrangle that girl''s neck," Nydia said.


    The last of the four witches also had purple hair, though it was cropped above the shoulders. Otherwise, she looked thin and awkward, not unlike Lucia Aden. She could not hide the astonishment on her face as she gaped at Kiera.


    "Oh!" the fourth witch said. "I''m Sophia. I made most of the airplanes here. Except... not the one you flew in on. That one was made by old Vaska. Probably."


    Kiera turned away to watch the path leading through the oculomancers. A tiny witch, wearing a solid black hat and robes, scrambled between the prostrated oculomancers. By the time she finally staggered up to the group, she was out of breath. Kiera immediately recognized the child by her raven-dark hair and blushing face.


    "Eight of eight," the Elder Saint announced. Without another word, she stalked off toward the lesser spire directly ahead.


    "Claire?" Kiera asked.


    "Oh hey Kiera!" Claire Aden said. "It''s good to see you again! Guess what? I have a secret!"


    "I don''t need to hear any secrets from you," Kiera said.


    "My sister Lucia has a crush on you!"


    "That''s not a secret!" Kiera said. "Sasha also had a crush on me back at the monastery."


    "The scandal!" Claire said.


    "The scandal!" Kiera agreed. "But I already took care of that little problem. Now they are in love with each other."


    Claire Aden nodded sagely. "As I expected." The child turned to face Fiona. "Honored ancestor," she said with a curtsy.


    "Wait!" Keira said. "You are a witch!"


    "Apparently!" Claire said.


    "This is the first time in history that a Heritor has turned into a witch," Fiona explained. "And, because of Titania''s own luck, we happened to get two at almost exactly the same time."


    "Wait," Kiera said. "Claire, you are too young. You haven''t even been to the monastery yet!"


    With sudden realization Kiera swung around to face Fiona and made a pleading face. The other woman was grinning wickedly.


    "You want me to train her!" Kiera guessed.


    "The Elder Saint could use the assistance in her quest to subjugate the etherborne," Fiona said. "I happen to know that your schedule is relatively light, and, because of your personal acquaintance with Claire, you are obviously the best choice either way."


    "My personal acquaintance!" Kiera bellowed. "I used to change her diapers. That was just a few years ago!"


    "More evidence that you are uniquely qualified," Fiona observed. "Now, be silent and attend. Annatiki is almost at the top."


    The Elder Saint lowered her hood, allowing her long purple hair to flow with the breeze at the apex of the spire. She raised one hand, fingers extended, out as if to grasp the whole of the Sister World, far, far away, at the opposite end of the airy conduit.


    "Relax and do not interfere," Fiona commanded. "Do not ever interfere with this ritual. Not now, not ever."


    A burst of powerful energy lanced out toward the horizon, passing clear through Kiera without resistance. The air all around became painted with a pale cyan hue as vast amounts of dream-ether converged on Annatiki. The dream-ether began to converge onto a single point, which attracted yet more dream-ether. No, Kiera thought. No, don''t do that. That is suicide!


    Fiona''s command stilled her. Relax. Back at the Eight Color Monastery, the monks warned the students about the non-linearities of dream-ether and spirit-ether. High concentrations of dream-ether attracted yet more, and if the concentration was high enough, it could even attract spirit-ether. An untrained student could easily claim enough dream-ether to fry themselves to a crisp when using ethermancy.


    But Annatiki was no novice student. Relax.


    The second wave of dream-ether converged above Annatiki, floating like a halo just above her palm. Then the third wave came, originating from outside the conduit. Then the fourth wave came, originating almost at the level of the fog layer, fifty thousand feet below them all. Wave after wave came, and because they stood at the very top of the world, the line of sight was unobstructed.


    Kiera suddenly realized the true nature of Ethersleep.


    All the dream-ether in the entire world was sucked into a single point. Annatiki clasped her hand into a fist, compressing the raging orb into a pinpoint which glowed with an angry cyan light. Kiera felt the simplicity of the weave, the mathematical elegance. Smaller and smaller and smaller, all the ether in the world became but a mote of dust.


    The sky was ablaze. Kiera jerked her head upward.


    Arcs of magenta lightning raced across the surface of the Sister World, converging on a single point at the exact opposite side of the conduit.


    Kiera held her breath. Then the flash forced her to close her eyes.


    BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!


    Lightning from the Sister World struck Annatiki, and with absolute mastery, the witch absorbed it all. The power of an entire world, masterfully conscripted into her terrible purpose. Magenta lightning arced outward in every direction, animating and then levitating the forest of inanimate spikes that surrounded them. They began to heat up and glow with an inner redness.


    Kiera fell to her knees. She remembered the feeling of those spikes in the heart of Spire Annatiki, down that empty pit in the floor, all the way perhaps to the center of the world. Spikes hammered into the walls of the pit, each glowing with the same red-magenta light.


    "How long?" Kiera whispered.


    "Ever since she killed Reyndell," Fiona whispered.


    "Why?"


    "Because she is waiting for the next Reyndell," Fiona said. "This is the Elder Saint''s answer. Renna wanted to subjugate the men. Reyndell wanted to subjugate the women. Annatiki stores vast amounts of spirit-ether so that she can subjugate anyone when needed."


    Tears poured down Kiera''s cheeks.


    "I will do anything for her," Keira said. "Anything at all."

 Chapter 21: Office Hours

    Of all the academies at the University of White Chasm, Quinn''s favorite by far was the Academy of Special Sciences. The offices and lecture halls could be found among the noble minarets and towering belfries of the southern quarter. While the wooden and stone buildings felt neglected at best, or haunted at worst, the marble buildings in the far south were warm, well-lit, and comfortable.


    They found Professor Atlas vin Truscae alone in his office behind a massive, mirror-like black desk. The ancient fossil of a man was bald except for a few gray whiskers above his ears. Huge round spectacles magnified the man''s eyes to comical proportions as he watched Seth and Quinn shuffle in. In addition to huge stacks of paper, the professor also had a burning ether candle in the corner of his desk, filling the room with a subtle cyan haze.


    "Professor Atlas?" Quinn asked. "Professor Morne told us your office hours are today."


    Professor Atlas shuffled through his desk and produced a flip-open chronometer. When he opened the thing, it made a rhythmic ticking sound. He stuffed the device back in his desk and said, "A few minutes early, but I''m not picky. Please have a seat. Are you thinking of joining my class?"


    "If there is room."


    "The class takes place outdoors, rain or shine. We practice ethermancy on the field to the south, between here and the town. There is a guided self-study for students looking for job training. Once you have learned how to use the aurascribe, you will be responsible for loading the correct weaves into your aura before each class."


    "In that case we would like to join," Quinn said. "Unfortunately, we are behind the rest of the class already."


    "We were hoping you would be able to help us get caught up," Seth added.


    "Of course, that is precisely the purpose of these office hours."


    The professor hobbled to his feet and stalked over to the blackboard on the far wall. Every inch of the dark green surface was coated in some type of arcane equation. The professor gave the blackboard a swift upward heave, and it began to slide effortlessly along clever tracks, all the way to the roof of the office, revealing a perfectly clean blackboard underneath.


    "The special science of ethermancy is an interaction between two fundamental forces," Professor Atlas began.


    He drew two huge circles using white chalk. In the middle of the left circle, he drew a filled-in circle using blue chalk. He made an identical pink ball in the right circle.


    "The two forces are dream-ether and spirit-ether," the professor continued. He pointed to the blue ball. "The geologists say that deep down in the very center of our world, which is shaped like a sphere, there is an inexhaustible source of dream-ether. It bleeds up through the stone into our atmosphere, where it becomes available for use in ethermancy." Next he pointed to the pink ball. "By contrast, the Sister World contains an inexhaustible source of spirit-ether. Spirit-ether can be arranged into a sphere, called an aura, and the inner surface of the sphere can be inscribed with weaves."


    He began drawing a maze-like pattern in one corner, with the word "weave" nearby.


    "Once the aura has been inscribed with a weave, dream-ether can be claimed and consumed in order to activate the weave. Activating weaves at will is called ethermancy. Weaves are generally used to create fire for steam engines, but there are many other types of weave as well."


    "Professor?" Quinn asked. "If all the spirit-ether is on the Sister World, then how did the banks get it?"


    "Very inquisitive! If only my other students shared your curiosity. They are too preoccupied with their job training. Hah!" He drew what appeared to be a lightning bolt between the two white circles. "It is simple. Dream-ether interacts with spirit-ether in strange ways. Very high concentrations of dream-ether can attract free spirit-ether at a distance. Geologists believe that during some super ancient era, long before human settlers came to this world, high concentrations of dream-ether in the atmosphere occurred perhaps once every one hundred thousand years. The exact opposite of Ethersleep. Such concentrations would occur at random, and they would feed on themselves, drawing more and more dream-ether into a shining sun, until one day a bolt of spirit-ether spanned the gap between the two worlds, causing both types of ether to disperse throughout the atmosphere."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "So the banks went around collecting all the spirit-ether?" Quinn asked.


    "Yes, though they kept well hidden the methods they used. It is not known whether there is more spirit-ether in the upper atmosphere, or if it has all been collected already. Either way, the banks have a monopoly on the stuff. The oculomancers can see auras at a distance, which allows them to keep track of where people take them."


    "Wait!" Quinn said, suddenly excited. "On clear days, I can see a long conduit of air leading to the Sister World. Is it possible to fly there?"


    "Fly?" the professor asked. "You mean fly with a flying machine? I don''t think so. I flew on one once, up to the greenhouses on the side of Spire Lyn. It was a gigantic balloon filled with hot air. I swore to never ride on one of those death traps ever again. They are hard enough to navigate even with ropes and soldiers on the ground guiding them."


    "Not that kind of flying machine," Quinn said. He slipped the design for Seth''s kite out of his jacket and set it on the professor''s desk. "Something more like this, with wings like a bird."


    "Oh! Yes, if you could construct such a craft, you could fly to the Sister World. However, such a trip would be pointless. Aura maidens need to spend a great deal of dream-ether just to transfer spirit-ether to another person. In other words, it costs dream-ether to collect and transfer spirit-ether. You would need to somehow carry an entire steamboat worth of ether candles just to attract a tiny aura on the Sister World. And I don''t think this little kite of yours would be able to lift cargo with that weight. Also, the Sister World is believed to be a huge, inhospitable desert, so much of your cargo space would be occupied with food and water. Finally, after expending the resources of an entire kingdom for each trip, you would end up with a tiny aura, insignificant when compared to the vast auras of the Heritors."


    "But it is possible, right?" Quinn asked.


    "Yes it is possible, but it would be so uneconomical that even the witches at the top of the spires would never do such a thing. Think about it. The witches and their oculomancer servants have had centuries of time and vast resources to throw at the problem of inventing flying machines. If it was economical to fetch spirit-ether from the Sister World using that method, they certainly would have done so by now."


    "How do we know they aren''t doing that already?" Seth asked.


    "I believe that the witches, along with their banks, Heritors, and oculomancers, have a strong incentive to not search for new sources of spirit-ether. They control all the stuff already, which means they can literally charge whatever they want. If they were somehow getting more spirit-ether from the Sister World, then what you would expect to see is a reduction in price over time, or an increase in the number of Heritors, or an increase in the size or quantity of the auras on the market."


    "That''s fair," Seth admitted.


    "What if the witches are simply hoarding it for themselves?" Quinn asked. "Without giving it to the banks."


    "For what purpose?" the professor asked. "They are witches! They don''t need auras to use ethermancy. They can just consume dream-ether directly."


    "So the only people in the world with an incentive and the resources to invent new flying machines," Quinn said, "would be the Heritors. And they have sworn oaths to never invent new flying machines!"


    Quinn suddenly felt stupid for admitting his knowledge of the Heritor oaths.


    The professor looked dumbfounded. "I did not know that Heritors swore such oaths," he said. "It may be as you say. They have resources and perhaps they might succumb to the temptation to try to compete with the witches." He shrugged. "Either way, flying machines are very dangerous things. Please, follow me, there is something I want to show you."


    He led them through the campus to the far north-eastern corner. There he showed them a small graveyard deep in the shadow of the eastern bluffs. The tombstones were shattered, ancient things, coated in moss and lichens.


    "Please take a look around and read the headstones," Professor Atlas said.


    Seth and Quinn did so, taking different paths through the graveyard, reading the inscriptions.


    Here rests Marty, who looked to the sky and dreamed to fly, one inscription read.


    Rest in peace Chad, who paid the blood price of the sky.


    All of the gravestones had the same theme. They all mentioned the sky, or flying, or dreaming of new business ventures on the Sister World.


    Professor Atlas beckoned them over to the gate where he stood, his voice muffled by the fog and light snow.


    "This is a special graveyard for the students at the University who died trying to invent flying machines," the professor said. "It''s just an old tradition. You are not the first students to look to the Sister World with dreams of tapping into that vast wealth. Many students attempt to solve the problem, and they either give up or they end up buried here." He shrugged again. "It''s up to you though. Nobody is going to try to stop you from pursuing this venture."


    The professor turned and walked away.


    "One more thing," he rasped. "Don''t let Dean Yana Justicia Sophia find out about your plans. She will make you pay all four years of tuition up front. Haha!"

 Chapter 22: Claire Aden

    They arrived at Spire Lyn at night, and Kiera stepped into an alien world. The bowl-shaped city at the apex was in fact a huge library. Cool ethersteel bookshelves filled almost the entire volume of the city, up the walls in tiers, and across the center upon arched bridges. Dozens of thralls roamed the bloated stacks, ferrying tomes from the reading desks to their proper places. While all the spires in the north were composed of black stone veined with glowing ethersteel, by contrast Spire Lyn was a marbled blend of two different types of stone, one bone-white, the other dark red, somewhere between blood and rust.


    Fiona had business in the city, so it was a group of unknown oculomancers who escorted Kiera and Claire to their respective suites. The private quarters were cut into the stone itself, imperfect, and illuminated by soft white-gold lanterns. The plumbing was perfectly functional, though one wall of the shower was in fact a thick window, a fact which made Kiera uncomfortable as she took a shower. Indeed, the entire southern wall of the suite was the same thick glass, and during the day it must act like a greenhouse, because just below the glass there was a long shelf filled with vibrant ferns. Her bed sat in the middle of a maze of cuts in the floor, filled with glowing teal water and strange fishes, shielded by yet more glass. The far wall, marbled red and white, was wet and slick with flowing water.


    The gentle sound of the trickling water helped Kiera relax. The room was warm and filled with soft light, and Fiona''s copy of The Binding of Ashe sat upon the nightstand. Kiera plopped down in the bed, opened the book, and began reading.


    Chapter 1: Verse 1: In ancient times, men bartered with coins of silver. But for the ancient kings, there remained a lingering temptation. In times of trouble, the purity of the silver became diminished. Verse 2: It was during the reign of Veronika II that the first system of paper currency was introduced. Banks stored huge quantities of pure silver, while men bartered with paper notes allowing claim to that silver. Verse 3: By the reign of Veronika IV the value of the paper notes had been diminished such that an entire house filled with notes was insufficient to buy a loaf of bread.


    Kiera had felt somewhat unclean when she thought about reading the religious text of a different religion. However, so far nothing in the text indicated that it was related to religion. It seemed to be a story about economics, the type of thing even Fredrick Mason might find uninteresting.


    Chapter 2: Verse 1: It was during this time that the ancient philosophers developed the theory that currency could be tied to the Elementals. While the value of coins and paper could be arbitrary, the gifts of the Elementals had immediate and real value. Verse 2: They devised a system where Elemental bonds could be temporarily passed between men. They invented a currency such that the value of the currency was pegged to the duration of a lease whereby the bond is temporarily held. Verse 3: Truth is the domain of the Queen of Light, and so Her daughters were employed as a means of guaranteeing the terms of the lease. Verse 4: However, forgiveness is also the domain of the Queen of Light, and Her daughters were equally likely to forgive a debt than to enforce the rules of the rich.


    Chapter 3: Verse 1: The resulting economic crisis nearly led to the collapse of the Veronika dynasty. Verse 2: Veronika VIII called upon the greatest philosophers in the world to devise a solution to the problem. Verse 3: It was the High Mage of House Rosalia that suggested that the Queen of Light might be corrupted, so that she lost the power of forgiveness. Verse 4: The monks of the Twin Fates Monastery were the first to suggest a concrete strategy. They had the most experience manipulating fate through their bonds with the two specific Elementals, Titania the Luck Elemental, and Erika the Curse Elemental. By cleverly indoctrinating their students, they were able to pass the bonds under special circumstances for a variety of desirable effects. Verse 5: Their strategy depended upon a deep understanding of the Five Goddesses who conspired to create the universe.


    Chapter 4: Verse 1: The first goddess to join was called the Goddess of Chaos, and she bisected herself into the divine powers of Water and Fire.


    Suddenly Kiera heard a knock at her door. Dazed, she stumbled through the dim suite to answer. She found two oculomancers outside, and between them stood Claire Aden, rubbing her eyes and crying.


    "I''m sorry to bother you, Mender Kiera," one of the oculomancers said. "There is something wrong with Claire. She asked to speak with you."


    "No worries," Kiera said. "I will take care of her. Claire, please come inside."


    After the oculomancers had left and the door was sealed, Claire began crying even harder.


    "I can''t do it," she sobbed. "I''m so scared. I want to go home!"


    "I understand," Kiera said warmly. "Come with me, you can share my bed."


    "I want my big sister!" Claire insisted. "It''s your fault she left us."


    "You''re right. I''m sorry. Don''t you remember coming to Cloudsea to live in my father''s castle? We were like sisters then."


    Claire nodded. "It was cold!"Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "Well, it may not be as good as your home, but this spire is nice and warm. I will be your big sister tonight, so be brave. I promise you will feel better in the morning."


    Kiera could not speak for Claire, but she certainly felt better in the morning. The light of dawn filtered in through the huge windows, filling the space with a golden glow and casting fern-shaped shadows on the far wall. She was careful to rise without disturbing Claire, who slept on the far side of the bed, muttering to herself in her dreams. Silently, she scooped up The Binding of Ashe and went into the kitchen to start making coffee.


    Verse 2: The second goddess to join was called the Goddess of Foundations, and she bisected herself into the divine powers of Stone and Wind. Verse 3: The third goddess to join was called the Goddess of Connections, and she bisected herself into the divine powers of Metal and Lightning. Verse 4: These three goddesses used their divine powers to create the land and the sea and the sky. Verse 5: The fourth goddess, who was called the Goddess of Laws, saw potential in the new world. Verse 6: She bisected herself into the divine powers of Life and Heaven, thus bringing order to the chaotic universe. Verse 7: For a time, the living creatures had intelligence but no free will. Verse 8: The fifth goddess, who was called the Goddess of Freedom, bisected herself into the divine powers of Light and Dark.


    Chapter 5: Verse 1: Each half of the divine power is protected by an Elemental Queen, and each Elemental Queen has a sister-self. Verse 2: Each Elemental Queen draws upon only one half of the divine power. Verse 3: The two Elemental Queens are opposite in every way, reflecting the opposing nature of the underlying divine power. Verse 4: Eternal vengeance lies within the domain of the dark half of the divine power of the Goddess of Freedom, in opposition to forgiveness. Verse 5: The monks knew that if they wanted to erase the Light''s power to forgive, then they would need the Light Elementals to draw upon the dark half of the divine power, such that the concepts of forgiveness and eternal vengeance would both be obliterated. Verse 6: Thus they conspired to trick the Queen of Light into drawing up on a power which was not hers. However, the dark power was well-protected by the Queen of Darkness, who was known to the monks by her ancient name, Ashe. Verse 7: This was the beginning of the conspiracy to bind Ashe in an eternal prison.


    The door to the suite opened and Fiona marched through, clad in her black witch''s uniform. "The oculomancers told me you were awake," she said.


    "Claire is still asleep," Kiera whispered.


    "Wake up kid!" Fiona yelled. "Pour me a cup please. I see you are reading that book I gave you."


    "It''s interesting," Kiera said. She slid a cup of coffee to Fiona, and then took a sip herself. It was subtle and fruity, like berries mixed with chocolate. "We can''t get coffee like this in Cloudsea."


    "Small batch, greenhouse-grown. There is a roaster here in the spire. It is reserved for high-ranking witches like us. How far did you get?"


    "I just finished chapter five," Kiera said.


    Claire Aden moped into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "This place doesn''t look so bad in the daylight," she observed. "Sorry about last night Kiera. Thanks for letting me stay here."


    "Anytime. Do you need to shower?"


    "Yes, but I don''t have my costume."


    "I''ll go get your clothes," Fiona said. "Kiera, skip ahead to chapter eighty-one. Let me know what you think when I get back."


    Chapter 81: Verse 1: They entered into the domain of the Queen of Heaven, and the Lady Ghost looked upon the eighth of ten skies. Verse 2: The sky was dark indigo, filled with stars, illuminated by unseen suns. In every direction, the sky was filled with Little Planets, each connected to the next by conduits of air. Verse 3: It was these conduits which allowed the Lady Ghost to fly between the Little Planets, and thus she set out in search of her enemies. Verse 4: She summoned the Guardians of Heaven, living constellations as tall as mountains, to aid her in her quest.


    "So did you read it?" Fiona asked when she returned. She vanished into the bedroom with Claire''s witch hat and clothes.


    "It is very strange," Kiera called out. "The Little Planets remind me of our own world. They are ''each connected to the next by conduits of air.''"


    "That''s exactly right," Fiona said. She sat down in the kitchen again and took a sip of her coffee. "That is where we are right now. Somewhere in the Elemental Plane of Heaven, isolated from the rest of the Little Planets. Nobody seems to remember exactly why we came here, but Reyndell told me that the first settlers were trying to escape the Purple Dragons."


    "And now we cannot leave."


    "And now we cannot leave," Fiona agreed. "But here is the strange thing. The purple whelps, those witches you met up at the top of Spire Erika, they all seem to agree that this is the best possible outcome. None of them would dare leave this world even if they could."


    "Why would anyone want to stay in prison?" Kiera asked.


    "The alternative is worse," Fiona said. "The Purple Dragons were so bad that those whelps would rather spend all eternity imprisoned here."


    "I can''t imagine."


    "So why is little Claire here?"


    "She was homesick."


    "I see," Fiona said distantly. "She is only thirteen years old, and as a Heritor she has been coddled her whole life. I can''t hold it against her. As far as I know, she doesn''t have any friends her age."


    "I suspect Edwin is deliberately trying to isolate her," Kiera said.


    "I should just kill him," Fiona said. "Put Lucia on the Hanging Throne and be done with it."


    They would call you kinslayer, Kiera thought. She said, "I don''t understand why Claire even returned to White Chasm."


    "Homesick," Fiona guessed. "The oculomancers can protect her at home, but she is not old enough, she does not have the ego to stand up to her brother. She does not understand that she is a Heritor, and that supersedes any petty title that Edwin has given himself."


    "So why don''t we teach her?"


    "Because, my apprentice, questions are more important than answers."


    "What is that supposed to mean?"


    "It means, Kiera, that there are questions you are not asking. You don''t yet know the limits of your knowledge, the direction in which your mind needs to quest."


    "So how do I find the right question?" Kiera asked.


    "I am sending Claire Aden to the University of White Chasm," Fiona said.


    Kiera gasped. "That place is for commoners!"


    "We will devise a pretext," Fiona insisted. "You will enroll at the same time and you will be her personal mentor. Also, there is one more thing."


    "What''s that?"


    "When you arrive," Fiona said, "I want you to join the Aviation Club."

 Chapter 23: Unprecedented

    While Quinn found the early history lessons enthralling, once the war and post-war eras had been covered, the curriculum digressed into the long and boring history of House Aden. Quinn found himself being forced to memorize the names of the various Kings and Queens who sat upon the Hanging Throne.


    "King Redmond Aden was the last king to reign during the Free City Era," Professor Morne explained. "Empress Sasha of House Varelion turned her predatory gaze toward our great city during the thirteenth year of the king''s reign. She sent an oculomancer to the Hanging Throne with a message proposing annexation and the king''s surrender. The king immediately rejected the offer, which provoked the empress into declaring war. This eventually led to the first and only military defeat in the history of White Chasm."


    Fascinating, Quinn thought, suddenly interested. How the hell did they manage to get all the way up here with their army?


    "Naturally, the empress faced an insurmountable challenge," the professor continued. "White Chasm is unassailable from the Ash Sea and inaccessible from the east. To the south, the city is only accessible through a series of caves, but they are well-hidden and defended by a special unit of Aden family soldiers. Finally, the private hunting ground of House Aden, the Western Face, lies beyond the Spine Range to the west. The shelf stands one thousand feet over the western river valley, and is inaccessible to ground forces, even with donkeys.


    "From north to south, the Western Face is only about two miles long, and while an airship could land there in theory, in practice a very small margin of error would be required to navigate there in the fog. Furthermore, the Aden clan had prepared for such a possibility by building watchtowers at the top of every peak nearby. The watchmen were trained and equipped to recognize the sound of steam engines, and they used a system of horns to pass warnings to the Hanging Throne.


    "Shortly after declaring war, the empress assembled a new unit of scouts from the island of Vjiskald. She sent her oculomancers, including the Eyes of Empire, to help guarantee the secrecy of the new unit. These scouts spent the next two years slowly pushing out into the unclaimed lands around the base of Spire Erika, enduring brutal wind and cold. They deposited hidden caches of coal along a circuitous route through the mountains, barely skirting the visual range of the Aden family watchtowers.


    "In the meantime, she ordered the construction of over two hundred hot-air balloons. These balloons were arranged in a huge square and bound together with ethersteel chains. Wooden platforms were constructed along the rim of the square, each hosting an array of steam-powered propellers. An elaborate series of light signals was devised, allowing the engineers and firemen to communicate across the gaps between platforms. A second series of sound signals was used to give commands to the hot air balloon pilots."


    Genius!


    "The entire craft was constructed in absolute secrecy. Each hot air balloon was filled with a small squad of six soldiers, including the pilot, and in total the craft was able to carry thirteen hundred soldiers. It was the largest flying machine ever built, both then and now. It also featured a new design of coal-powered steam engines, equipped with sound-echoing cones that directed more of the noise up into the sky."


    "This is the perfect time to announce our Aviation Club!" Quinn whispered. "After this lecture."


    Seth was transfixed by the lecture, and he did not respond.


    "Like modern airships, the craft was unable to fly above the fog, so it was nearly impossible to navigate without help from the oculomancers. Citing safety concerns, the oculomancers refused to ride on the craft, which forced the crew to use dead reckoning instead, similar to a steamboat. The speed of the wind was combined with data from a compass and an accurate chronometer to determine location from fixed points. However, this method does not account for the speed of the air naturally, and since many fixed points need to be deduced from the data, errors tend to compound over time.


    "However, the location of the caches was carefully mapped out, and each cache was placed upon a mirror that reflected the lights on the bottom of the hot air balloons, lights which were shielded by cylindrical tubes to avoid detection from the watchtowers. When a new cache was located and the coal recovered, dead reckoning would be used to reach the next cache, which prevented the compounding effect of the errors. In addition, the very scouts who explored those mountains were present on the airship, and they were able to assist in navigating by using glimpses of nearby peaks through the fog.


    "The Aden family oculomancers would be able to see auras even through the fog, so no auras were carried on the craft. Empress Sasha deposited her aura at the Bank of Grael Nydia, dressed herself in the garb of an Aden family soldier, and boarded the craft, placing her very life at risk. In addition, a single horse, purchased in the borderlands between Lyn and the Theocracy, was stabled on a special platform in the center of the airship.


    "In an astonishing feat of navigation and military discipline, the airship was able to sail undetected to the final cache, in the foothills of Spire Erika, south-west of the Western Face. Beyond that point, the empress would no longer enjoy the benefits of known, fixed points. Night fell, and the craft flew at her maximum altitude, purely by dead reckoning, in an attempt to reach the Western Face. Perhaps by pure luck, or perhaps by fate, or perhaps through a deep understanding of the wind patterns, the airship succeeded in landing upon the very southern ridge of the Western Face, completely undetected.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "The Varelion soldiers spread out and hid in the copses of trees. The Aden watchmen on the shelf carried torches and they were accompanied by watchdogs. It did not take long for the dogs to begin barking, and soon the air was filled with the sound of gunfire. With a torch in hand, the empress herself rode through the Spine Ridge, shouting a warning to the Aden soldiers that the Western Face was under attack. But she kept on riding, down through the University, all the way to the bank in the town to the south. There, she discarded the Aden family uniform and equipped a more regal garb before entering the bank. She calmly explained that she wanted to withdraw her family aura. The bankers were shocked to see the empress, but they did not know about the invading army. She was also a Heritor, so technically her request was well within her rights, a fact which the bankers in Grael Nydia insisted would be the case.


    "As soon as the empress had her aura, the oculomancers knew something was wrong. They warned King Redmond that a large spherical aura had appeared in the University Fjord, and the king immediately recognized the danger. In order to prevent damage to his palace, he rode out into the fjord to face Sasha Varelion in an honorable duel. In a storm of lightning, ice, and fire, the two Heritors battled.


    "Because the Varelion soldiers enjoyed both surprise and overwhelming numbers, the Aden family soldiers were being slaughtered wholesale on the Western Face. They pushed through into the University Fjord and threw themselves at Redmond Aden, wave after wave, fearlessly charging the Heritor even as they were ripped apart by his ethermancy. But it was enough to distract the king, and the empress gained the upper hand. The king was trapped, and one brave imperial soldier got close enough to spear him through the chest.


    "Without another large aura in the city, Empress Sasha quickly subjugated the Aden clan and forced them to bend the knee, heralding the beginning of the Imperial Era. When the Elder Saint discovered Heritor Sasha''s antics, the empress was summoned to Spire Annatiki, where she was heartily chastised. To this day, the banks no longer allow Heritors to withdraw large auras that were deposited at a different bank. Next week, we will turn our attention to Queen Sophie of House Aden, the first loyal subject of the Empire of Nydia to sit upon the Hanging Throne. And now, we have a special announcement from the dean."


    Heads turned to face the doors at the upper tier. Yana Justicia Sophia stood in the center, flanked on one side by a tall blonde woman in silks and jewels, and flanked on the other side by a teenager wearing bright red robes laced with onyx filigree.


    "That''s Kiera Blaine!" Seth hissed, right in Quinn''s ear.


    And by Father Winter he was right. Quinn had only seen a glimpse of the woman one time, covered in blood and bile, miraculously healing a disemboweled man. She looked beautiful. Her fine dress was the color of the sky on a clear day, with just a tiny touch of red to shift the color toward purple. Her hair was done up in a crown of braids, revealing the nape of her neck and huge golden earrings. Quinn was certain that she was wearing enough gold and sapphires that, if misfortune should lead to her falling into a body of water, she would immediately sink like a rock. Oh and those wide hips! That great, billowing bosom!


    "I think I''m in love," Seth said.


    "Me too," Quin admitted.


    Dean Yana marched down to the professor''s podium and cleared her throat. "We have a special announcement to make. Unprecedented, even. It is no secret that our school is in disrepair. The student dormitories are practically falling apart. A few weeks ago I sent a letter to each of the Heritors here in White Chasm, beseeching them for their aid. King Edwin never replied, and Princess Lucia is far away, serving as the Ambassador of White Chasm in Emperor Corrin''s court. Much to our great fortune, Princess Claire Aden responded. Not only did she offer to aid in the reconstruction of our dormitories, she astonished me by offering to attend the university for the remainder of the year."


    When the dean stopped talking, she nodded to the teenager in the red robes. The girl spoke, "We Heritors live in our palaces, and, from our perspective, the plight of the common folk is a pure abstraction."


    The girl''s voice was child-like, and very soft. She often paused mid-sentence, as if she had memorized the words she was saying.


    "I have decided that this must end," the girl continued. "I have enrolled at my family''s university, so that I might experience the conditions for myself. While the king might ignore your pleas for help, he may be more amenable if it is my voice that carries a firsthand report of the conditions here."


    "Excellent!" Dean Yana beamed. "Do not worry, her attendance will not skew your grades in classes which are graded on a curve. In fact, Princess Claire will be mentored by Princess Kiera of House Blaine."


    Kiera waved at the students with a confident smile.


    "This is an unprecedented moment in the history of our institution. No Heritor has ever enrolled here. It is my hope that this will establish a new precedent, so that our university will never again fall into such disrepair. Please be kind to Princess Claire and Princess Kiera."


    "Thank you Yana," Professor Morne said. "As homework, please read chapter sixteen. There will be a surprise quiz at the start of our next lecture. You are dismissed."


    The students began to murmur as they gathered their things and stood up. Seth stood up and shouted, "Aviation Club! We are starting a new Aviation Club! Me and Quinn! We are accepting new members right now!"


    "If you liked today''s lecture!" Quinn shouted, "then come on up! Our Aviation Club is going to invent the world''s first flying machine with wings!"


    "Aviation Club!" Seth repeated. "Who wants to ride on a boring old balloon! Come fly like a bird with us! Don''t miss out!"


    A handful of students orbited around them, clearly interested. Remarkably, Kiera Blaine glided up the stairs and walked down the tier, stopping right in front of Seth.


    Thou shalt make no machine in the likeness of a bird, Quinn thought. This woman is a Heritor. What the hell does she want?


    "Princess," Seth said. "Would you like to join the Aviation Club?"


    "I would love to join! A flying machine with wings, oh my! That sounds dangerous. I am a healer, and while I am not very interested in flying machines, I can always fix you up if you get hurt."


    "We would love to have you!" Seth insisted.


    Quinn was speechless, completely frozen with suspicious astonishment. Does Claire Aden really care about our living conditions? he wondered. What sort of game are these Heritors playing?

 Chapter 24: Aviation Club

    The club held its first meeting in a dusty old wooden workshop dedicated to metal-aspect ethermancy. In addition to Quinn, Seth, and the two Heritors, three other students showed up. Seth had decided upon a specific time to stop waiting and start the club. When the belfries announced the hour, Quinn took one last look at the empty courtyard outside before closing the workshop door.


    "Welcome to the Aviation Club!" he began. "To get started, how about we all introduce ourselves? Who are you? Where are you from? And why are you here? Brother, would you like to go first?"


    "Certainly. My name is Seth, and I''m the world famous Flying Man! I was born in eastern Lyn. I''m here because I want to fly through the sky and show off my skills to the ladies."


    Claire Aden giggled. She whispered in Kiera''s ear, "he''s cute," and it was not a very good whisper because everyone heard it.


    "My name is Quinn. I was also born in eastern Lyn. I am here because I want to be a part of a new tradition, one which will live on longer than myself."


    "I''m Kiera Blaine, also known as Kiera the Mender. I''m a Heritor. My father is King Sullivan of Cloudsea. I am here because this club seems very dangerous and I am a skilled healer."


    "I''m Claire Aden! My family owns this school. I''m here because Kiera is here, and she''s my mentor."


    The first of the three students was a dandy wearing a white suit and holding a huge square painter''s bag. His olive skin and long, straight black hair betrayed a bloodline originating in Zairo. There was a vibrant rose pinned to his lapel.


    "My name is Vince," the man said. "I am from Blue Grotto, the capital of Zairo. I am the son of a merchant, and I love painting birds. I am here to help out, in case my skill at painting, or my knowledge of birds, might be of use to the club."


    The second student was a hulking bodybuilder, even bigger and more muscular than Seth. He had pale skin, a freckled face, and blood red hair.


    "My name is Bjorn," he said. "I''m a mathematician from Vjiskald. I''m here because I want to learn, or perhaps invent, the mathematics required for flying machines."


    "We''ll be happy to have you!" Quinn said.


    The last student was a tall woman with skin that was so black and so shiny that Quinn mistook her for a walking obsidian sculpture. Her hair was the color of sunset, glowing gold and red. Quinn found it somewhat alarming that she had shining gold scales on her cheeks and on her forehead, inhuman features which framed red-gold eyes.


    "My name is Irene," the strange woman said. "I am an apprentice Sea Mother among my people. I am here to learn more about the strange boats that sail through the fog."


    "Oh!" Kiera exclaimed. "Are you related to the witch Diana?"


    "I am," Irene said. "My tribe is descended from the Gold Dragons. Of all the whelp tribes, mine is the most pure. We live at sea, away from the corruption of human blood. Diana is called Guardian of the Sea, the greatest of the Sea Mothers."The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Kiera nodded. "I met her once."


    "Yeah!" Claire agreed. "At the top of, um... that spire. Not long ago. She looked a lot like you!"


    "I find that unlikely," Irene said defensively. "Diana would never travel so far inland as to visit Spire Lyn. Her own spire is very far away. How did you get there?"


    "She sailed to the Eight Color Monastery!" Kiera said.


    "For my sister''s graduation," Claire added.


    "She stood before the Elder Saint at the top of Spire Annatiki," Kiera explained.


    "It is possible," Irene admitted. "Forgive me, great Heritors. I am not of a station to question you thus. Please, forgive me."


    "Think nothing of it," Kiera said gently. "Mister Vince, would you be so kind as to show me and my companion an example of your paintings?"


    "It would be my pleasure, Princess," Vince said with a practiced bow.


    He unsealed his black painter''s bag and set the first canvas on display on a nearby table. All seven members of the club arrayed themselves around the table to regard the painting. It was solid white, unpainted along the edges, with an extraordinarily detailed portrayal of a common seagull in flight, banking to one side.


    "You are quite skilled," Kiera said.


    "I am most proud of this painting," Vince said. "I studied the way the birds turn for hours and hours before I painted this. Look at the very tips of the wings."


    He pointed to the low wing.


    "See how the very tip is twisted up? And on the high wing, the tip is twisted down. The gulls always twist their wings this way when they are turning."


    "Are you saying this is how our flying machine should turn?" Quinn asked.


    "Your boat will need a rudder," Irene said. "All boats use a rudder to turn."


    "Birds don''t have rudders," Vince said.


    "Let''s take things one at a time," Seth said in a confident, commanding voice. "I will be the one flying the craft after all, unless any of you volunteer?"


    He glanced around at the other club members, and even Quinn could see that nobody was interested.


    "I thought so," Seth continued. "If I am going to be risking my neck up there, then I will be the one that decides which problems need to be solved and in what order. Right now, we have the problem of turning. There are two possibilities. Either we turn like this bird does, by twisting the wings, or we turn like a boat does, with a rudder. Quinn, please write this down. It will be the second problem we attempt to solve."


    "I will take notes," Kiera offered. Quinn nodded.


    "This discussion is fascinating," Bjorn said. "My mind is reeling with mathematical possibilities. Please, continue, Mister Seth. What is our first problem?"


    Quinn produced his copied kite schematic and set it on the table beside the canvas.


    "This was the kite I was using back in the circus," Seth said. "It had a fatal flaw. Sometimes the apex of the kite would inexplicably dive into the ground. When that happened in practice, I ended up with a few bruises. However, if we are going to make something that flies much higher, this problem must be understood and solved immediately."


    Irene nodded sagely. "Boats do not dive into the sea like whales."


    "Your kite does not have a tail," Vince observed. "Birds have tails. Maybe you should try adding a tail?"


    "Whales also have tails," Irene added. "But fish have fins. Strange."


    "I have an idea," Vince said. "I think the Aviation Club should go on a field trip to see some actual birds. Not just paintings. I know a place nearby, in the mountains to the south of White Chasm. You can only get there by hiking through the caves, and you need to get permission from the Aden family guards."


    "I won''t need permission," Claire Aden said.


    "Indeed!" Vince agreed. "There are a wide variety of birds that visit my favorite ledge. Some of them soar slowly and lazily, some of them flap their wings furiously, and some of them dive in long arcs. I think that we can learn a lot by observing nature''s fliers."


    "I could use a good hike," Seth said.


    "If anyone twists an ankle or blows out a knee, I''ll be there," Kiera said.


    "I would like to see these sky fishes for myself," Irene said.


    "I will disconfirm my hypothesis against live samples," Bjorn said. "For science."


    "I will inform the soldiers in the caves," Claire said.


    "Then it''s settled," Quinn said. "The second meeting of the Aviation Club will be a field trip!"

 Chapter 25: Natures Fliers

    As it was in Spire Lyn, the stone walls of the cavern were bone white, and the dusty floor was red rust. Stalagmites and stalactites filled the space like the teeth of some predatory beast. In some places, the cavern was dark and filled with a blue haze, while in other places it resembled a narrow canyon, the open sky framed by a foliage canopy, with sun shafts illuminating the rusty gravel. Creaky wooden staircases allowed passage through the steeper descents, and ferns grew in the places where the light touched. Occasionally entire walls would open up to the sky, revealing the great pines which grew just beyond the escarpment. Some chambers were devoid of sunlight, illuminated only by a strange bioluminescent fungus which hung from the cavern ceiling, like a night sky painted with teal stars.


    The five students marched ahead with Vince in the lead, trailed by a pair of burly Aden family soldiers. Kiera and Claire lingered behind, along with a pair of handmaids and the Eyes of Flame, the royal oculomancer. It was the first time that Kiera had ever seen the caverns before, though this was not the case for Claire. They both wore thick wool dresses and sturdy boots, and they were both armed with tall hiking axes, a weapon which made Kiera feel somewhat uncomfortable to hold.


    The group came upon an underground chasm. The sconces on the near and far walls illuminated the bone-white rock, but the chasm was of such a depth that the light could not penetrate the darkness below. An arched ethersteel bridge, glowing with a slight cyan light, spanned the chasm at an angle. The bridge looked brand new, completely devoid of imperfections, and this put Kiera''s mind at ease as they crossed the chasm.


    Just beyond the chasm, the tunnel split in two directions. To the south-east, the path continued upward in a gentle slope, open to the air on one side. The south-western fork ended in an imposing stone gate, draped to either side with the red banner of House Aden. Two guards waited for them at the fork. They both wore red robes and shining ebony masks that obscured their faces, and unlike the Aden soldiers, they were both armed with spirit-lattice ethersteel swords, not unlike the spear carried by Sir Zachary.


    "My princess," one of the guards said with a deep bow. "Why have you come? Why have you brought these commoners with you?"


    Claire Aden marched forward and said, "We are just going to see some birds on the plateau to the south."


    The guard waved his black-gloved hand to the east, pointing to the ascending path, and said, "Move along then. Move along."


    Vince took the lead and marched off along the eastern path, an act which provoked the others to follow. Soon the caverns opened up into switchbacks upon the side of a mountain, leading up and to the west. The sky above was clear and blue, as the mountain rose far above the thin layer of misty fog. Spire Lyn dominated the sky to the south, braced in stacked rings of greenhouses. Half a dozen airships were ferrying workers between the base of the spire and the greenhouses, and a seventh airship was slowly ascending toward the bowl-shaped city at the apex.


    "I did not know that airships could fly all the way to the top," Quinn said. "Though I suppose it makes sense. How else are the witches going to get up there? Princess Kiera, have you been to the top of a spire before?"


    "Yes! I rode an airship to the top, just like that one," Kiera lied. "It took a very long time. They are quite slow."


    "I wonder if you could fly an airship to the Sister World?" Quinn asked.


    "That would take too long," Kiera insisted. "You would run out of food and starve to death."


    "That''s probably true," Quinn admitted.


    The final switchback aligned the path with the spine of the mountain, winding up and up to meet with a bone-white escarpment. When the group crested the escarpment, they entered into another world. Tiny, sparse blades of grass grew from the rusty soil in a few places between the white rocks. Below, the stone dropped away into an eroded plateau, where a few pools of blue-turquoise water rested at different levels, surrounded by wave-like copses of pines. The shady places were crusted with a thin layer of snow. The peaks at the opposite end of the plateau were all very dark gray and jagged and coated with a dusty layer of pale rubble.


    "It''s beautiful!" Kiera said.


    "I''ve been here before," Claire said. "Me and Lucia went swimming in one of these lakes in summer."


    "Sounds like a good way to freeze to death."


    "Lucia used ethermancy to heat the water. It was actually quite comfortable."


    "Was she naked?" Kiera whispered.


    "I was ready for her foolishness," Claire replied proudly. "I brought her bathing suit too."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    There was a ledge directly to the south. To the west, the ledge overlooked a steep descent into some copses surrounding an alpine lake. The eastern escarpment overlooked a forested valley, thousands of feet straight down. Vince led them to the west, carefully negotiating the rocky switchbacks with practiced confidence. The spike at the end of Kiera''s hiking axe turned out to be very handy for keeping balance on the snow-crusted rocks in the shadowy places. She was happy that Claire forced her to bring the weapon.


    Before they had even reached the lake, the determined silence of the group was shattered by the piercing cry of an eagle. The creature circled high above the lake, its great wings outstretched and unmoving in a gentle glide. Even from the ground Kiera could see that the wings ended in long finger-like feathers.


    Wanting to make conversation, Kiera asked, "Mister Vince. What is the significance of the feathers at the very end of the eagle''s wings?"


    "Excellent question!" He beamed. "Ornithologists have studied the topic of wing shape extensively, and I have repeated some of their observations in the field."


    He paused for a few moments in silence.


    "Princess, you must forgive me. Please allow me to point out some other wing shapes first, and I promise I will return to the topic of the eagle''s wings when that is done."


    "A lovely idea," Kiera said.


    When they reached the copse, the ground leveled off toward the shore and the treacherous rocks were replaced with even more treacherous roots. Finally they came upon the shore of the alpine lake, where the water was glowing like an opal in the sunlight. Small, fat birds rested on the rocks to the south, and in the middle of the lake a pair of black swans lazily preened themselves.


    "Hey look!" Claire said. "That''s my family sigil!"


    "That''s right," Vince said. "That''s Aden''s Swan. It is a migratory bird. In the winter they can be found on the peninsula far to the west of where I live."


    The man set down his tripod, and from his pack he produced a spyglass with a comically large lens, which he secured to the top of the tripod. He peered through the device for a few moments, and then beckoned Quinn to approach.


    "On the far side of the lake," Vince said. "Hurry! There is one gliding just above the water."


    After Quinn peered through the spyglass, he was shoved aside by the golden whelp Irene. Then Kiera bullied her way to the strange device and peered through as well. The device at the neck of the tripod was crafted such that the spyglass could be manipulated with some resistance. Through the dark-framed bauble of her vision, she caught a glimpse of the creature as it was skimming the water to land. Unlike the eagle, this bird had pointed wings.


    "We call them high-speed wings. They can be found on ducks and falcons as well. The ornithologists say that the rapid wingbeats are very energy intensive, and the birds require a great deal of food to survive. Their diet might inspire them to migrate in the winter."


    Next, he turned the spyglass to face the fat birds resting on the rocks. Their feathers were the same color and texture as the rock, and they had tiny feathers in the nostrils at the top of their beaks.


    "These are a type of local quail," Vince explained. "Their wings are very short and prominently slotted. Unlike the swans, they stay put in the winter, and they molt their feathers and grow new ones that blend in with the snow. They do not fly in the winter, and even in the summer they only really fly short distances to escape predators. However, when in flight they are highly maneuverable, which helps them navigate dense vegetation."


    "So the finger-like feathers aid in maneuverability?" Quinn asked.


    "They are called slotted wings, and that is correct. They aid in both maneuvering and takeoff."


    "I don''t think we will be able to add those slotted wings to the kite," Seth said. "The mechanisms would be too complicated. I can''t imagine how I would control them."


    "Perhaps it would be like learning to ride a bike?" Quinn offered.


    "I don''t think so," Bjorn said. "The mathematics required to control those features are instinctual to the birds. No human pilot would be able to learn the technique."


    "When I am at sea," Irene said, "I sometimes witness birds floating just above the waves. They have wings that are very long and straight, and a perfectly straight tail. How do you call this creature?"


    "That may be an albatross," Vince said. "Here, I might have a sketch."


    He rifled through his folio of painted sketches and offered one to Irene. The bird looked like a large seagull, with wings that together formed an arch worthy to support a bridge. The very tips of the wings were perfectly straight, without the finger-like feathers.


    "The albatross can soar over the ocean for very long periods of time. In fact, the ornithologists theorize that they might be able to circle our world without stopping. They are very efficient ocean foragers. However, their weakness is that they struggle to leave the ground in the first place. Their wings are designed for soaring, and they are very inefficient during takeoff."


    "So there is a tradeoff between flight and takeoff," Quinn said. "Fascinating. I''ll bet we can use this. Brother, would it be possible to change the shape of the wing specifically for takeoff?"


    "I will add that to the list of problems to solve," Seth said. "After we figure out how to stop the kite from diving nose-first into the ground."


    "So what about the eagle?" Kiera asked.


    "Ah yes! The eagle is a compromise between the albatross and the quail. Their wings allow for soaring, as we see directly above us, but they are much shorter than the wings of an albatross. The slotted wings aid in takeoff."


    "The mystery is solved," Claire said. "But I''m hungry! Mister Vince, are those quail birds tasty?"


    "I cannot say," Vince admitted. "I would kindly ask..."


    But it was too late. Claire Aden tapped one of the soldiers on the elbow, and without hesitation, and with perfect swiftness, he aimed down his rifle''s sight and pulled the trigger. The sound of gunfire echoed across the alpine lakes, scaring away the swans and the surviving quail.


    "Excellent shot!" the Eyes of Flame said.


    The second soldier tapped his pack with a metallic clank. "We''ll go start a fire and cook him up for you, princess. I warn you quail is an acquired taste."


    That day Kiera discovered that quail was, indeed, an acquired taste.

 Chapter 26: Ethermancy Class

    As always, Professor Atlas vin Truscae taught his ethermancy class outside, in an open field of grass just north of the campus. The light fog obscured the town on the horizon, but the lamps of the nearby campus buildings were still visible. An array of metal targets had been constructed atop sturdy wooden tripods at the far end of the field, illuminated from above by wicker torches.


    "The aurascribe is configured with the weaves required to make a fireball," the professor said. "Inscribe the inside surface of your aura with the weave and then line up behind the next available target. All you need to do is reach out and claim the ether inside your aura, then feed that ether into the section of your aura that contains the weave. This will create a fireball in your dominant hand, which you will be able to aim using your palm."


    It was not lost on Quinn that the grass below each tripod was blackened with char and ash.


    "Your goal for this lesson is to hit one of the targets with a fireball," the professor continued. "Any student that shoots a fireball at another student will be responsible for washing all the dishes in the cafeteria for an entire week. You may begin."


    Quinn quickly discovered that magic was actually extremely easy. The sensation had been there for a few weeks, a vague pressure from all directions, extending out like a faint cyan fog all the way to the edge of his tiny aura. Mentally questing outward, he claimed the nearby ether and did as the professor had instructed. A fireball appeared, floating just above his palm, which he aimed at the target. Go, he commanded, and the fireball shot off immediately. When it hit the target it exploded into a drooping spider-like cloud of flame and black smoke.


    "Professor!" one of the other students said. "It''s not working. I can''t claim the ether!"


    "Stand apart!" the professor said. "Look... you are standing right next to another aura. You are both probably trying to claim the same ether. I went over this in class. An aura is a sphere, and two auras of the same size must compete to claim the ether in the overlap between the spheres. You should have paid better attention!"


    Seth shot a fireball at the target. "With this, I''ll be unstoppable!" he said.


    "When you have successfully hit the target one time, come back to the aurascribe and load up the second and third weaves, but don''t remove the fireball weave. The two new weaves can be used to create two barriers, one within and one without. The inner barrier is very strong, but the outer barrier will break after taking a few hits from the fireballs."


    Quinn shuffled over to the aurascribe, followed by a handful of the other students. The thing was a brass box-like machine filled with gears and clockwork, some rotating dials, and a handful of gauges. It also featured a long brass lever extended up from the base. Quinn placed one hand over his heart and then grasped the lever in his other hand. With a determined yank, the lever yielded and then the aurascribe burned the new inscriptions onto the inner surface of his aura. This created a transient, coppery, maze-like pattern in the air, which vanished after a few fractions of a second. Quinn could feel them there, new commands on the edge of his perception, even though the aura itself was invisible.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "We are going to have ourselves a deathmatch between the boys," the professor said. "Take too many hits from the other students and your outer barrier will break. Once your outer barrier breaks, you must stop participating. The last man standing wins ten percent extra credit on next week''s quiz."


    "Wait!" Seth protested. "If we hit another student, do we still need to wash dishes for a week?"


    This provoked a brief fit of laughter from the other students.


    "You''ll only need to wash dishes if you somehow manage to break the inner aura," the professor replied. "Which would be mathematically impossible for you. The ladies do not need to participate if they don''t want to. The contest will begin on my command."


    "I will not be participating," Princess Kiera announced. "After all, it would be horribly unfair. You boys would be outmatched."


    "Is that so?" Seth asked.


    Kiera Blaine raised her palm and pointed it directly at Seth. A small cloud of cyan ether appeared for a fraction of a second, before it got sucked into a tiny glowing ball between her long, blue-painted fingernails. The air seemed to chill, and a bolt of wintery blue light shot across the field between the students, directly toward Seth. It went straight through both barriers and exploded in his face, showering him in frosty white powder.


    "Heritor Kiera please refrain from murdering the other students," the professor said dryly. "Not unless they''ve paid all four years of tuition, haha."


    "Cold," Seth said, shivering. "It''s so cold!"


    "I would like to participate," Claire Aden said. She marched forward and began fiddling with the aurascribe. "Don''t expect me to go easy on you!"


    "How about a truce?" Seth asked. "We''ll fight each other at the end if we both survive."


    "Deal," Quinn said.


    "Begin!" the professor finally announced.


    They stood facing opposite directions, just far enough apart to create a space between their auras, and started lobbing fireballs at the other students. Claire Aden was just a tiny child compared to the adult students, and Quinn found himself following her swift movements with his eyes. Nobody would dare try to shoot her, Quinn realized. Her family owns this school, after all.


    Claire was physically very quick, and in that obnoxious way common to some children, she seemed leagues ahead of the other students in terms of skill with an aura. I suppose that''s what happens when you have Heritor Kiera as your private tutor, Quinn thought. What the hell? I''m not going to hit her anyway.


    He summoned a fireball and shot it toward Claire Aden, just moments after she blasted one of the other students with a rapid trio of her own fireballs. This seemed to have caught her off-guard, because to Quinn''s untrained eye, the fireball developed into an unavoidable hit right on the palm of her hand. But the fireball did not explode. Instead, she shot it right back at Quinn, followed by two more shots that penetrated his outer aura and threw him back into the grass.


    "Nice partial activation!" the professor beamed. "That''s exactly what I would expect from a princess of the Aden clan!"


    Dazed, Quinn stared up at his brother. Seth managed to take out a dozen other students, but in the end he was no match for Claire Aden, and they both ended up sprawled on the smoldering grass.


    "Remind me not to make her angry," Seth said.


    "Father Winter," Quinn said. "I tried to shoot her with a fireball. Do you think I''ll get expelled?"

 Chapter 27: Seesaw

    The students were evacuated at dawn, and Aden family ethermancers set fire to the moldy old student housing. The flames were trapped within a tight crucible of wind-aspect ethermancy, and by Quinn''s second class of the day the entire structure had been reduced to ash. Soldiers and military engineers occupied much of the ashen pit where the structure once stood, dutifully constructing new furniture and installing new plumbing. By the time his final class had ended, the ethermancers had moved huge blocks of marble into the lawn. At the very center of all the activity, Kiera Blaine stood with her arms raised, channeling vast power, pure and radiant, carving apart the marble blocks as if they were sticks of soft butter, with the unseen hot knife of ethermancy.


    Because the usual workshop was occupied by Aden family soldiers, the White Chasm Aviation Club met in a mostly-empty laboratory instead. A handful of students were busy finishing their lab experiments, carefully recording measurements of the temperature of steaming water using shiny new thermometers. Knowing that Kiera and Claire would not be attending, the five students in the club started as soon as the last of them had arrived.


    "Since our field trip to see the birds," Quinn began, "me and my brother have spent a great deal of time digesting the data, and we have come to a conclusion."


    "It''s all completely useless," Seth announced.


    "Their shapes reflect the necessities of survival," Quinn continued. "Their bones are hollow. They have total control of individual feathers. Most importantly, they flap their wings in a way that our kite cannot."


    "Can we not design the kite so that the wings flap like a bird?" Vince asked.


    "We already tried a flapping design," Quinn replied.


    "Years ago," Seth added. "The tiny components were too delicate. After flapping a few times something would break. My arms were also not strong enough to flap for very long."


    "I spent some time researching architecture books in the library," Bjorn said. "Specifically, common architecture material strengths. I have a mathematical proof here that demonstrates why cloth and wood in the kite are not strong enough to survive a flapping motion. If we used stronger materials, such as metal, the thing would be so heavy that the flapping motion would not be enough to lift it off the ground."


    He offered a stack of papers to Vince.


    "Feel free to read my proof for yourself. Beyond the question of material strength, there is the question of power. Assuming we had some type of engine, the power would need to be transferred to the wings somehow. The mechanism of transfer would need to support both flapping and gliding. Such complex technology does not exist in any industry. Even if it was possible, the mechanism would be too heavy to fly."


    Vince grimaced but said nothing.


    "We should stop wasting time researching the way birds fly," Seth said. "We simply do not have the luxury. Right now, the kite isn''t safe. We need to figure out why it wants to nosedive into the ground without warning."


    "We will need to find a way to model it," Bjorn said. "It would also help if we were able to replicate the phenomenon here in the lab."


    "You say that your boat sinks without warning," Irene said. "If you can show me how it sails, I can tell you why it sinks."


    "I don''t know if..." Quinn began.


    "Wait brother," Seth said. "We would be foolish to dismiss the wisdom of such an experienced sailor."


    That''s fair, Quinn thought. He did not really trust the strange woman from the far west. Not because of her obsidian skin and glowing red-gold hair, but mostly because of the golden scales on her cheeks. He had seen that strange race of elites living in his hometown, though their skin had been pale and the scales had been dark green. In fact Quinn''s great grandmother was one such creature, and while he had never met the woman, it was from her that he inherited his green eyes.


    Without access to the workshop, and without a physical model to work with, they decided to use drawings instead. Vince was easily able to sketch the kite from various angles, and he was even able to add realistic waves and splashes of water, complete with smears of blue paint.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "Your boat is upside-down," Irene observed. "It''s easy. If you want it to sail, you need to flip it over."


    "If we flip it over, it won''t fly," Quinn said.


    Deep down in the bottom of his pack, in one corner beside his textbooks, Quinn had an old toy that his older brother had constructed for him as a child. It was a small wooden cylinder with a shorter wooden cylinder at the bottom. The top of the smaller cylinder was cut with a star-shaped depression, and there was a long string attached to the base, wound around and around like a spool of thread and slipped through a tiny hole on the side of the outer cylinder. Finally, there was a wooden pole with a star-shaped coin at the base, and a small mechanism at the top which allowed it to hold four small cambered wings, arranged in a cross.


    Quinn assembled the little toy, then pulled hard on the string. The pole spun so fast that the wings carried it clear of the outer cylinder, all the way up to the roof of the laboratory where it bounced against the ceiling like an insect before gliding down onto a nearby table.


    "If we turn the device upside-down," Quinn said, "then we would expect the opposite to happen. It would fly down into the floor and break apart."


    "Irene, could you please explain your logic?" Bjorn asked. "I would like to try and encode it into a mathematical equation."


    At Irene''s request, Vince drew two more sketches, each with the nose pitched down progressively deeper into the water. Irene arranged all three sketches in order on the table.


    "In the first sketch, imagine the boat is sailing straight with a force from behind, perhaps because of a propeller. Then a wave strikes the nose and the nose pitches down. This exposes more of the hull to the oncoming water, which means that the nose pitches down faster. In the final image, the maximum amount of hull is exposed, which means that the maximum amount of downward motion should be expected."


    "I see the problem," Bjorn said. "It is a divergent function."


    "I have no idea what a divergent function is," Quinn said. "Can you explain?"


    "Consider the angle of the nose at time T to be a function of the angle of the nose at time T minus one," Bjorn said. "This function is divergent and grows rapidly toward infinity. The angle grows fast and the speed at which the angle grows increases exponentially, at least. The exact function may be much more aggressive than exponential. I''m not sure."


    "So how can we fix it?" Quinn asked.


    "Subtraction," Bjorn replied. "You just need to subtract off the function by a factor that is large enough to prevent the function from being divergent. Irene, if you saw this motion happen on a boat, how would you fix it?"


    "We would all be dead," Irene said.


    "Let''s say you had a crew capable of acting with infinite speed," Bjorn said. "Would that change anything?"


    "I would order the crew to carry the ballast to the back of the boat. If the back was able to sink fast enough, then less of the hull would be exposed to the oncoming water, such that the nose might even rise."


    "There is no ballast on our kite," Quinn said. "It would be too heavy."


    "Could Seth be the ballast?" Bjorn asked.


    "Absolutely not," Seth said. "I want the thing to fly straight without diving independently of what I do with my body. In other words, the kite needs to fly straight passively. In fact, I want to test the thing with sandbags before I fly on it again."


    "One thing that I noticed," Vince said, interrupting the conversation, "is that your kite does not have a tail. Birds have tails, and I imagine that your flying machine needs a tail in order to fly."


    "We already said that we are done looking at birds," Quinn said.


    "What if the tail was an inverted wing?" Bjorn asked. "No, that would make the function even more divergent. What we want is a second set of wings on the back, at the end of a long boom, perhaps at a slight angle downward. When a gust of wind strikes the craft, the wings on the rear would begin to nosedive first, which would cause the front wings to pitch up."


    "Like a seesaw," Seth said.


    "Exactly so. Now, we would not want the rear wings to pitch down so far that the kite becomes vertical. What we would want is the amount of subtraction to be exactly enough to create a convergent function."


    "Bird wings are much larger than the tail," Vince observed. "Perhaps the rear wings on the kite should be smaller?"


    "Excellent idea!" Bjorn beamed. "The rear wings could have a moderating effect, but the size of the forward wings would be such that when they pitch up, they drag the rear wings up and away from their nosedive. With smaller rear wings, we can reduce the overall weight that needs to be added to the craft."


    Vince sketched the new design. It looked similar to the original delta-wing kite, but it featured a boom extending off the back, ending with a smaller copy of the delta wing, at a slight downward angle. Meanwhile, Bjorn furiously scribbled out a series of equations to represent the different forces on the forward and rear wings.


    "Your boat is missing a rudder," Irene said.


    "We are trying to solve one problem at a time," Quinn said.


    "Just add the rudder," Seth insisted.


    As Vince worked on the sketch, Irene kept insisting that the rudder was too small, and after a few iterations it resembled a huge fishtail.


    "It looks a bit like a weathervane," Bjorn said. "Like a weathervane, perhaps the huge tail at the back will keep the nose straight against the wind."


    "That''s a good point," Seth said.


    "In fact," Bjorn continued, "the whole thing is like a weathervane in two directions."


    "So what now?" Vince asked.


    "Now we need to find some carpenters," Seth said. "And some sandbags."

 Chapter 28: The Flame Keepers

    With the construction of the new dormitories finished, Kiera and Claire moved into the Royal Suite, which occupied the entirety of the third floor. Claire''s room was furnished to resemble her room at the palace, and Kiera''s room was furnished to resemble her father''s castle in Cloudsea. The shining marble walls, fine paisley rugs, and glossy wooden furniture elevated the space to a comfortable level of opulence. At night, Kiera spread her arms and legs wide across the empty bed, sank down into the soft blankets, and slept in peace.


    The peace lasted up until the ever-homesick Claire snuck into Kiera''s room and shoved her to one side of the bed. The interruptions to Kiera''s comfort continued in the morning when Fiona arrived, clad not in her witch costume, but instead wearing the red robes of House Aden.


    "Wake up ladies," she commanded. "Preparations are finished. There''s something I want you to see. Both of you."


    Kiera groaned. "What''s this about?"


    "We are going to enter into one of the Tombs," Fiona explained.


    "Where are my handmaids?" Claire asked.


    "I''ve sent them away. Up you go now. You take your shower first. Kiera, make me a cup of coffee."


    Sitting at the bar, illuminated by the dawn''s light, Fiona''s blue hair and shining scales were a sharp contrast to her bright red robes, a juxtaposition which Kiera found to be striking. The coffee was, unfortunately, the bitter and flavorless variety available to the commoners, but Fiona sipped it without complaint.


    "They''ve discovered aerodynamic stability," Fiona said.


    "I''m sorry," Kiera said. "I was busy helping to build this place. I missed the club meeting."


    "One of my girls was spying on them the whole time. I have an accurate transcript of the meeting, as well as copies of the notes. I''ve complained to Lyn about the accuracy of the architecture textbooks here in the library, but she pointed out that corrections to the material strengths will be rapidly discovered by any students with actual practical experience working with wood or cloth. So my hands are tied."


    "I will need to read the transcripts."


    Fiona slipped a sealed scroll out of one robe sleeve and unfurled it on the bar. The diagram depicted Seth''s kite, except now it featured a long boom at the back, ending in an empennage with horizontal and vertical stabilizers.


    Kiera gasped. "That looks just like a real airplane!"


    "They are developing faster than I anticipated," Fiona said. "The members of the Aviation Club are equipped with a diversity of relevant backgrounds. The apprentice Sea Mother understands ships, the painter understands birds, and the Vjiskaldi man understands math and physics. Seth intuitively understands the concept of the ''pilot in command'' having the final authority."


    "What about Quinn?"


    "Quinn is stubborn. He will not betray his brother. At least not without our help." Fiona winked. "It sounds like Claire is done with her shower. Hurry up, I would like to get out of here soon. Make sure to wear hiking boots."


    After they left, Kiera and Claire Aden followed the witch Fiona along very much the same path the Aviation Club had taken, up to the mountains above the fjord and then down into the caves. After they spanned the chasm and they came to the fork in the path, instead of going east up to the plateau, the three women went west toward the massive stone door. The two masked guards both dropped to one knee as Fiona approached.


    "Honored Ancestor," the guard said. "I see that you have brought a young Flame Keeper with you, but I ask, who is this other woman? She is not a Flame Keeper."


    "This is Kiera the Mender," Fiona said. "Strongest of all the witches."


    "Even stronger than the Elder Saint?" the man asked, astonished.


    "Even stronger than the Elder Saint," Fiona agreed. "And also the most harmless. As for Claire, she is indeed too young to enter into the community under normal circumstances. However, by fate or by design, she is also a witch, and I have arranged for both of them to enter into the Founder''s Tomb."


    "Honored Ancestor, it is not my place to question the wisdom of the witches. Please, carry on with your labors and forgive my lack of faith."


    The second guard gestured, and the huge stone doors began to swing inward slowly. After they had opened enough to allow two people to pass through abreast, they stopped opening further, and the three women glided through without incident.


    Beyond the portal, the cavern continued as it had been before. Bone-white rock, a rusty red ground, skylights crowded with ferns, small dark rooms lit by bioluminescent fungi, and lots of teeth-like stalagmites and stalactites. After walking to the east a ways, they came upon a huge underground amphitheater, rising in tiers like the interior of the bowl-shaped cities at the apex of the spires. Each tier was crowded with fine bone-white dwellings. Above and to the east, at the very highest tier of the amphitheater, the wall of the cave was missing, open to a foggy sky. People in red robes and ebony masks roamed the streets, shopping at small market stalls, or carrying buckets of water. In short, they were going about their business, only occasionally stopping to prostrate themselves before Fiona.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Who are these people?" Kiera whispered.


    "This is the Aden clan," Fiona explained. "Claire''s many cousins and aunts and uncles."


    "I was wondering where my cousins lived," Claire said. "They seem to just show up once in a while without warning, then disappear."


    "When Reyndell attempted to exterminate my tribe," Fiona said, "I was able to save a few of the villages and thus prevent a total genocide. I brought the Blue Dragon whelps here, but in order to prevent inbreeding, I was forced to blend some human blood into the tribe as well. Most of the people here are descended from my own daughters."


    "I see," Kiera said. "And if the small number of Adens living on the surface ever die off, you have lots of viable replacements to continue the royal line."


    "You did not have any sons?" Claire asked.


    "Of course not. I''m an oculomancer. The poison in my body is lethal to males."


    Near the southern wall of the cavern, they came upon a stone altar coated in a layer of sprawling vines of pure spirit-lattice. Upon the altar there rested a human skeleton made entirely out of spirit-lattice crystal. The air was filled with the delicate sound of crystals being rubbed together, a glass-like whistle with an electric crackle. Statues of Father Winter and Mother Summer flanked the altar, and the red crystals had grown all the way up to their heads.


    "Whoa," Claire said. "The bones of Aden."


    "My husband," Fiona added. "After Reyndell died and I was no longer forced to be his concubine, I founded the Aden clan with this man. He was much younger than me at the time, younger even then you, Kiera. When he began to transform into a witch, he summoned the Elder Saint to kill him. His body was subjected to such a strong burning spirit-ether entropic field that his bones turned into spirit-lattice crystals."


    Beyond the altar, Kiera immediately recognized the Founder''s Tomb. However, this one was imperfect. The disk-like door to the tomb was cracked at the base. A huge block of marble rested in front of the crack, preventing access to the interior.


    "What happened to it?" Kiera asked.


    "Renna was very interested in the Tombs of the Founders," Fiona said. "This is one of the few tombs that she managed to open. Beyond this door, you will discover exactly why the members of the Aden clan are known as ''Flame Keepers.''"


    "Are we even allowed to enter?" Claire asked.


    "As witches, you are no longer bound by the Heritor Oaths. I give you permission to enter. Follow me."


    Using stone-aspect ethermancy, Fiona gently nudged the block of marble away from the crack. The gap at the base was so narrow that Kiera was forced to crawl on her belly, and Claire was frightened that she would become trapped. A strange white-purple light seemed to be shining through from the other side, and curiosity got the better of the child. When Kiera crawled out of the opposite end of the tiny tunnel, her hands plunged into a foot of cold, powdery snow.


    She staggered to her feet and found herself in another world.


    The sky was dull gray, as if the depths of the sky were filled with storm clouds. It was snowing very lightly, not enough to block visibility of the horizon. A massive, angry red planet dominated that horizon. Not only did it not resemble the Sister World, but it was in the completely wrong location in the heavens. In every direction, there were snow-clad trees, mighty peaks, and glaciers. The farthest mountains were as tall as the sky, and they were ablaze with fire at the peaks. Molten lava poured down their visible faces in rivers as long as nations.


    Claire Aden gasped.


    "What is this place?" Kiera asked.


    The huge stone disk of the Founder''s Tomb door was still visible behind them. Fiona scrambled through the tiny crack at the bottom, stood up, and lazily brushed the snow from her red robes.


    "Welcome to the Elemental Plane of Fire," Fiona said helpfully. "Certainly you have read about this place in The Binding of Ashe, have you not?"


    "It''s real?" Kiera asked incredulously. "Mother Summer, it''s really real?"


    "Of course it''s real. Unfortunately, we are not fully located in the Elemental Plane of Fire. We are still mostly located in the Elemental Plane of Heaven. This zone is a type of overlap. In interstice. And since we are still imprisoned in the Plane of Heaven, we actually can''t walk very far here in this world."


    Fiona pointed to a copse of snow-clad trees beyond a frozen lake. Some of the trees appeared to be on fire.


    "Follow me. I''ll introduce you to the Elemental here."


    The hiking boots proved to be a blessing as they spanned the frozen lake. Kiera and Claire both walked in silence, awe-struck by the strange new sky above their heads. Beyond the far shore, the trees in the forest had fallen, glowing red-orange from within, like wood left too long in the fireplace. And there, dancing among the flames and ashes, gleefully laughing at the wages of her destructive power, they found the Elemental.


    She had the shape of a nude woman, fashioned entirely out of smokey red-orange light. She floated above the ground, and even at a distance Kiera could feel the heat radiating from her. Her body was indistinct, sexless, with only the impression of a face, lacking even a mouth. When she finally spoke, it was in Kiera''s mind.


    Outsiders, the Elemental said, her voice an angry feminine hiss. I cannot bond with you. You have no purpose here.


    "She always says that," Fiona said. "Kiera, Claire, let me introduce you to our friendly neighborhood Fire Elemental. Daughter of the Queen of Fire, please tell us, for what purpose were you sealed in this place?"


    I was placed here to serve as infrastructure for the magic system that Vaska created in your world, the Fire Elemental said.


    "Who is Vaska?" Fiona asked.


    I cannot answer that question.


    "I''ve spent years and years here," Fiona said, "asking thousands of questions, begging and pleading for answers. She will talk about her purpose, but nothing else."


    "So why did you bring us here?" Kiera asked.


    "As the centuries pass, you may find yourself growing bored with the sky in our world. Always remember that, as witches, if you need to look upon another sky, this place is always an option."

 Chapter 29: Second Year Material

    For several days Quinn revised the design diligently. Armed with a set of equations designed by Bjorn, he poured over every facet of the kite''s design, from the shape of the spars to the angle of the smaller wing at the rear. As the days came and went, he began to feel a mounting sense of frustration. Each new calculation depended on the accuracy of the previous calculations, and like Empress Sasha''s legendary dead-reckoning journey to the Western Face, small errors could compound over time. What he wanted was "fixed points," data which had been verified not through calculation, but through observation.


    Seth, who was by far the more empathetic of the two brothers, noticed Quinn''s frustrations immediately, and Quinn was ashamed. The evening before their off-day, a night which Seth usually spent with one girlfriend or another, Quinn sat alone in their shared dormitory. Dusky light filtered in through the bay windows, illuminating the immaculate white marble chamber. The door opened, filling the room with more light.


    "Shouldn''t you be chasing skirts?" Quinn asked.


    "The night is young," Seth replied. "You should join me."


    "I''m busy."


    "It''s never going to be perfect. Back when we invented the first kite, we did it by making small, cheap prototypes. We didn''t have the equations we have now. And it seemed to be better that way. The sooner we stop fussing over the details and start building, the faster we will make progress."


    "The carpenters in town are too expensive," Quinn protested. "We need to minimize the amount of money we spend on prototypes, or we will end up dipping into next year''s tuition to pay for the stupid things."


    "That''s an excuse."


    "I need to do something," Quinn said.


    Seth pulled the seat from his personal table and lifted it. Everything in the old dormitories had been incinerated in the flames of ethermancy, so the marbled blue-teal oval-shaped rug in the center of the room was brand new. Seth set his chair on the edge of the rug and took a seat.


    "You think you are not adding any value to the team," Seth observed.


    "Am I?" Quinn asked. "Bjorn is an expert at math and physics. Vince understands birds. Irene understands boats, rigging, fluid dynamics, and who knows what the hell else. You''ll be the one up there risking your neck. And what does that leave for me?"


    "Ethermancy," Seth said flatly.


    "That''s going to be easy."


    "For you maybe." He stood, walked to the bay windows and slid one hand against the smooth marble wall. "Do you think you could do this?"


    "Do what?"


    "Cut the marble like Kiera did?"


    "Of course not."


    "Why not?"


    "She is a Heritor. They teach the students differently at the Eight Color Monastery."


    "So figure out what she knows somehow. Ask Professor Atlas what he knows. Rediscover it from first principles. I don''t think it matters. But if you could figure out how to cut wood the same way Kiera cut this marble, we wouldn''t need to hire carpenters."


    "And you''re fine waiting on me like that?"


    "That''s why we are here isn''t it?" Seth asked. "The world-famous University of White Chasm. Where else in the world are we going to have this opportunity?"


    Quinn sighed and stuffed the papers in his desk with disgust. "You''re right. The prospect of using ethermancy at that level makes me feel excited."


    Seth reached out and grabbed Quinn''s shoulder, smiling warmly. "You will be the most important out of all of us."


    "I''ve been thinking about the fight on the lawn. With the fireballs and the barriers. Do you remember?"


    Seth nodded.


    "Something bothers me about Kiera and Claire. A few things actually. First, I saw both of them touch the aurascribe, but now that I think back on it, I never saw the coppery maze patterns appear in the air around them. Second, Claire Aden was able to shoot fireballs at people while standing very close to the other students. She was standing inside of the other auras while lobbing fireballs at everyone. Finally, the aurascribe was only configured with three different weaves. Where the hell did Kiera get the weave to create that explosion of ice?"This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "That''s a lot of questions," Seth said. "But I''m too dumb to help you answer them. It''s a good thing girls like dumb."


    It''s that golden luck of yours, Quinn thought. He waved Seth away. "Go on then. I''ll try to find Professor Atlas and see what he has to say about it."


    "Do you think I''ve got a chance with Kiera?" Seth asked.


    Quinn rolled his eyes. "I would stay away from her if I were you," he warned. "You would not be able to keep it a secret if you had an affair with the woman. Her father has oculomancers, or have you forgotten?"


    "Nothing so scandalous. Maybe a little flirting. Maybe she''ll even let me kiss her. I''ve caught her stealing glances at me before. Also, she is a healer and she has a kind heart. I''m confident that she would not allow her father to harm me."


    "I''m less worried about Kiera," Quinn said. "It''s the child that''s dangerous. Kiera had the dignity to avoid fighting us on the lawn. Claire Aden would happily incinerate all the students just to see if it was possible."


    "I''m pretty sure Claire has a crush on me," Seth said.


    "Which is exactly why you should stay very far away from both of them. Claire is nobility. Who knows what sort of trouble the child will concoct if she catches you flirting with Kiera. It would break her little heart."


    "That''s fair. Very well, I will trust your judgment on the matter. Good luck with your research."


    After Seth left, Quinn began to explore the campus in search of Professor Atlas. He was not in his office. Since the professor usually taught class on the field north of the campus, Quinn was unfamiliar with any potential classrooms or laboratories where he might be found. He began to ask the other students at random, and at first the students answered with apologies and shrugs.


    Finally, he asked a student who was carrying a huge stack of books. "I just saw him in the library," the boy replied.


    Among the bone-white halls of the library, the Aden family soldiers, armed with rifles and sabers, eyed Quinn suspiciously as he passed. A group of no less than ten oculomancers were busy collecting books from the architecture section, which left most of the glossy, varnished wooden shelves completely empty.


    What the hell are they doing here? he wondered.


    Professor Atlas vin Truscae was in the ethermancy section, holding a thick leather bound tome titled Sex-Specific Magic: The Arbitrary Laws of Life and Heaven Aspects. Without looking up from his book, he said, "Quinn, did you know that only females can use the life-aspect to heal others?"


    "I did not know that," Quinn admitted. "Though I did notice that all of the students in the combat medicine class are girls. Now that you say it, it makes sense."


    "Yes, it is quite fascinating. I often wonder who put such rules in place. Was it a god? Was it a man? Forgive me, you need not answer. I suppose your presence here is not a coincidence. Do you have questions for me?"


    "Three questions. First, I noticed that the coppery weave patterns did not appear around Kiera and Claire during our class this week."


    "That is not a question," the professor rasped. "That is an observation. And an astute observation as well. You must have been the only student to notice."


    "What can cause that to happen?" Quinn asked.


    "And what is your second question?"


    "You are not going to answer my first question?"


    "I am trying to be efficient. I suspect that all three of your questions share a single answer."


    "Very well. I want to know why Claire Aden was able to use ethermancy inside the auras of other students. Finally, I want to know why Kiera Blaine was able to use a water-aspect weave without ever touching the aurascribe."


    "Three questions, with two answers," the professor said. "Excellent. I will begin with the third question, because it is the most straightforward. Heritor Kiera was trained at the Eight Color Monastery, and their curriculum is slightly different than ours. This knowledge is second year material, and even then it does not impact commoners like us because our auras are too small. If we had access to larger auras, like the Heritors do, then we would be able to fit larger and more complex weaves on the inner surface. Tell me, Quinn, my most astute student, if I were to tell you that the mechanisms of an aurascribe could be encoded as weaves, what would that imply?"


    Quinn''s eyes went wide with shock. "It would mean that any free space in the aura could be modified dynamically, without an aurascribe."


    "That is correct," the professor beamed. "This fact is mentioned to second year students, but the aurascribe weaves are too large to fit on auras of the first harmonic, so we do not cover the exact mechanism. In fact, an aura of the seventh harmonic is required to store just the aurascribe logic."


    "So Kiera modified her aura without using the aurascribe," Quinn said.


    "No, that is not true at all."


    "She either used the aurascribe or she did not. Which one is it?"


    "You are thinking in the wrong direction," the professor said. "I will give you a hint. Not long ago, just a few months back, there was quite a scandal here at the university. There was no ethersleep, and, in fact, there was so much ether in the air you could practically see it."


    "But ethermancy stopped working," Quinn said, finishing the thought. "It stopped working for everyone except Kiera Blaine!"


    "That is a secret that not even I knew until just recently," the professor said. "How did you find out?"


    "I was there, on the battlefield. She paid me and my brother to haul injured soldiers to her tent for healing."


    "Ah, that is a rather extraordinary coincidence."


    Quinn shrugged. "I don''t see how that''s a hint. Either she modified her aura with an aurascribe, or she did not use the aurascribe."


    Unless.


    "Professor, does Kiera even have an aura?"


    "She does not," the professor replied.


    "How do you know?"


    "I asked an oculomancer."


    "What did she say?"


    "She told me that Kiera is a witch."


    "And Claire Aden?" Quinn asked.


    "And Claire Aden," the professor agreed.


    "Father Winter," Quinn cursed. He slapped himself on the forehead.


    If they are both witches then perhaps they are no longer bound by the Heritor Oaths? He reasoned. Is that why they joined the Aviation Club? Is the Elder Saint spying on us? Does she want to steal our technology and use it to travel to the Sister World?


    "I think that answers all three of your questions," the professor said.


    "Wait, I have one more question."


    "Yes?"


    "Is there a weave for cutting wood?"


    "Of course. It is a life-aspect weave." He pointed to a book on the bottom shelf. "I would start by reading Introduction to Floramancy, and then I would tackle Cutting Ethermancy, 2nd Edition. You can find the latter tome in the industrial ethermancy section, two shelves down that way."

 Chapter 30: First Prototype

    When the Aviation Club next met in the old workshop, the tables were cluttered with the construction materials they had collected throughout the week. There were very long beams of spruce from the White Chasm shipyards, unprocessed logs of ash wood, iron ingots, a type of loose-woven cotton fabric used in women''s underwear, ship''s rigging and glue, and buckets of an extremely flammable lacquer made from nitrated cotton.


    Seth and Bjorn began constructing the boom and the wing spars using the spruce beams, Vince began sewing the cotton into larger sheets, Irene began preparing the ship''s rigging, and Quinn himself began preparing the ethermancy weave used to cut the ash wood into wing ribs. Kiera Blaine observed silently from her cushioned couch. Claire Aden had complained that she was tired, before she cuddled up with Kiera and fell asleep.


    If Quinn had one advantage over the other students, it was that he was a voracious reader. Introduction to Floramancy was the less useful of the two books. Most of the chapters focused on weaves designed to aid the growth of various types of flowers. There was one chapter near the end that focused on trees. However, the weaves only worked over the course of many years, and Quinn didn''t have a lot of time to wait around. There was just one section that Quinn found very useful, because it described weaves designed to bend and reshape ash wood. Cutting Ethermancy was by far the more useful of the two books. It featured a weave designed to repeatedly cut arbitrary wooden logs into uniform shapes. However, this left open the question of how they were going to work the iron ingots, both into joints and into the jackscrew.


    Quinn went to Kiera, and whispered, "Princess, would you be willing to help us with the metalworking weaves?"


    "Claire can help you when she wakes up," Kiera whispered. "She will not nap for long."


    Quinn realized that the high price of auras was perfectly justified. The weaves were quite large, such that only one weave could be supported at a time, and Quinn found himself making repeated trips to the aurascribe in the professor''s office to change between them. Even after they devised a reliable strategy for minimizing the number of trips to the aurascribe, Quinn suspected that having a larger aura would have saved a lot of time and effort. Thankfully, Irene was adept at working with ropes, so she finished the rigging task quickly and started helping Quinn instead.


    Levitating above the table, shining with a faint green light, Quinn''s weave activated, cutting clean through the log of ash, pulling the wood apart into the last of the wing rib planks. Irene continued the process with her own weave, bending it into a cambered shape. Seth hammered the last of the ribs in place at the end of the spar, thus completing the wooden frame of the second wing. With the different components of the kite spread out on the workshop floor, it looked, to Quinn''s eye, not unlike the kite they had constructed for the circus, except with the addition of the boom, rear wing, and rudder fin.


    Quinn helped the other students as they stretched the fabric across the various surfaces. When the students began painting the cloth with the lacquer, the workshop began to fill up with the noxious fumes. Unfortunately, Claire Aden did not stir from her nap, and using a life-aspect weave to make herself stronger, Kiera carried the child away from the workshop to avoid the poison.


    The next day, they dragged the components out of the workshop onto the lawn where Professor Atlas often held his ethermancy class. It was foggy, but thankfully it was not raining. Kiera and Claire were up bright and early, looking refreshed and beautiful, and to the delight of the students in the club they came with pitchers of steaming coffee.


    "I''m sorry," Kiera said. "We had a hard day training yesterday. Claire should be able to help you now, if it''s still needed."


    "It is still needed," Seth said. "Thank you."


    Quinn offered the young princess a handful of diagrams depicting the metal components that they needed. The most important component was a heavy jackscrew that allowed the angle of the rear wing to be reconfigured.


    "Is this all?" Claire asked.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "Yes princess," Quinn said. "If it''s not too much trouble."


    Claire stalked forward to the collection of iron ingots in the grass. The ingots began to levitate, up toward her chest, one at a time, where she struck each of them in turn with a bolt of cyan lightning. Right before Quinn''s eyes, the ingots seemed to turn into a liquid, like black mercury, shifting and wobbling as they reshaped themselves. Once each component had formed into its final shape, Claire zapped it again to harden the iron.


    "That was well done," Kiera said. "I must be an excellent teacher."


    Armed with the metal components, the members of the Aviation Club began to assemble the kite in earnest. They assembled it upside-down, so that Irene could add the rigging that would support Seth''s weight. She used a type of sturdy knot common on ships, which involved making a loop at the end of the rope, spiraling the end of the rope around the loop, then slathering the whole thing with glue. Quinn tested every single knot, but he found no imperfections.


    Seth was dressed in warm clothes, a fur-lined leather cap, and brass-rimmed goggles, just in case he decided to fly. However, that was not the immediate plan. First they needed to test the thing.


    With a wind-aspect weave loaded into his aura, Vince provided a strong headwind. Quinn lit a chemical flare, which had been originally designed to create emergency light on a ship, but which now served the purpose of creating smoke. He held the flare in the wind, while Seth and Bjorn held the craft aloft, carefully observing the flow of the smoke over the main wing and down across the rear wing. Irene made tiny changes to the jackscrew in the tail to change the angle of the rear wing until it met Bjorn''s theoretical calculations relative to the observed airflow.


    With a long rope attached to the apex of the main wing, Seth and Bjorn began to run against the wind, dragging the kite behind them as they went. At first the kite slid across the grass, but once the wings caught the air the nose pitched up, carrying it aloft. The wind ethermancy and the tension on the rope were enough to keep it flying a few feet above their heads.


    Seth shook the rope, causing the nose to bounce a little bit. Then, boldly, he grabbed the apex of the thing and violently yanked it down toward the ground. The rear wing entered into a nosedive, which triggered the exact seesaw behavior Bjorn had calculated. The nose pitched up, quickly recovering from Seth''s shove, except at a slightly lower height away from the ground. Next, he jostled the tail, and at that exact moment Bjorn released the tension on the rope. Like a weathervane, the tail wobbled a few times and straightened out on its own.


    "It seems like we''ve solved the major problems," Quinn said.


    "It''s certainly an improvement," Seth said. "But there is one more thing I want to try."


    He reached up and violently shoved one wing tip upward. The other wing drooped, and then the whole kite tipped over and began to accelerate toward the ground. Thankfully, Seth was fast enough to catch the opposite wing and shove it away, which helped to stabilize the thing.


    "Wait," Bjorn said. "Do that again."


    After they got the thing fully straightened out, Seth leapt up and did it again. This time he was ready for the result, and he effortlessly caught the opposite wing as the craft attempted to "nosedive" onto the wing tip.


    "I think I know what''s happening," Bjorn said. "I see two things. First, the straightforward problem that you also likely noticed, the propensity of the craft to tip over and slide out of the sky. However, I saw a second problem, and it is much more subtle. The nose of the thing actually descends faster than the rudder."


    "Perhaps because it''s heavier?" Quinn asked.


    Bjorn shook his head. "No, the rudder fin is too big. Far, far too big. We need to redesign the rudder so that it won''t catch the air and twist the nose around as the wings slide side to side."


    Irene did not look happy with this assessment, but she said nothing.


    "So how do we fix the first problem?" Seth asked.


    "Maybe the wings should be more like bird wings?" Vince asked.


    "In what way?"


    "Bird wings are angled up quite a bit when they are soaring. The wings on our kite are straight."


    "I think that might help," Bjorn said. "Think about it this way. When the wing is perfectly flat, it creates an upward force when the wind strikes it. When both wings are angled upward slightly, then the amount of upward force is reduced, but ultimately balanced. Now, let''s say Seth disturbs this balance, and one wing rises while the other falls."


    "The lower wing will produce a greater force," Quinn offered. "Because it is straight with the ground."


    "Exactly so," Bjorn said. "At the same time, the higher wing will be further away from the flat configuration. The upward force on the higher wing will be modified by a trigonometric function which depends on the angle, but it will generally be a smaller force. In other words, with a slight upward slant to the wings, this type of rolling motion will self-correct over time."


    "What will we need to change?" Quinn asked.


    "We will need to take the wings off and create a new central beam that allows them to be installed at an angle," Seth said.


    "I will try to calculate the optimal angle," Bjorn said.


    "I guess we need to start taking it apart," Quinn sighed. But this is certainly better than the alternative.

 Chapter 31: Second Prototype

    The sky was clear and blue when they pulled the second prototype out of the workshop onto the grassy fields north of campus. Very high up in the atmosphere, there were a few wispy road-like clouds, as long as the sky, which Kiera assumed were the result of some type of airplane flying in the night. The meteorologists on campus most likely had some natural explanation for the phenomenon, and the students didn''t seem to notice. Beyond those high clouds, there was a small river of fog flowing through the University Fjord. Far to the north, and far below the airy heights of the campus, that fog river flowed into the White Chasm and vanished from sight.


    The hulking man named Bjorn held the tip of the aircraft elevated above the lawn, while Seth and Quinn loaded sandbags into the rigging on the bottom. The Gold Dragon whelp named Irene was busy fussing over the rigging as they worked. Slightly downhill, Vince held the end of the rope, his face filled with determination.


    "I don''t see the point," Claire whispered. "All that effort, and it looks exactly the same as it did before."


    Though Kiera did notice the difference between the first and the second prototypes. The vertical stabilizer was quite a bit smaller, and the wings had a slight upward tilt. It was beginning to look more and more like an actual airplane, though it lacked a means of control.


    When the students were satisfied, they lifted the kite above the grass and Vince began blasting it with wind ethermancy, which was somewhat inefficient considering that the breeze was blowing in the opposite direction. Sluggishly, the nose lifted and the rope began to extend. Seth and Bjorn took turns knocking the thing around, but it always returned to its original position, floating just overhead, directly against the wind.


    "Alright," Seth said. "I have decided it''s safe to fly."


    "He''s going to get himself killed," Claire whispered. "He''s too pretty to die! Do something!"


    "I''m sure he''ll be fine," Kiera said. "And if he gets hurt, I''ll be here to patch him up!"


    The pretty man with the big muscles looked significantly less attractive bent over with the giant kite strapped to his back. Quinn needed to hold the tail above the ground to spare Seth from the strain, and it took Irene a whole ten minutes to finish strapping the hapless man into the thing. Finally, with a blast of wind-aspect ethermancy and a little hop, Seth floated gently up into the sky. Bjorn and Quinn both joined Vince in holding the rope.


    "Higher!" Seth called out. "Let the rope slacken a bit! I want to go higher!"


    One foot at a time, the three men awkwardly coordinated to dole out more and more of the rope, until at last they exhausted the length and were forced to stop. Seth was soaring in-place some fifty feet over the fjord. He shifted his weight to either side, causing the craft to rock. Then he bent his knees, shifting his weight back, causing the tail to droop. Finally, he pulled himself forward using his arms, shifting the weight forward, causing the nose to pitch down slightly.


    "Let go of the rope!" Seth called out.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    "No!" Kiera protested. "Don''t listen to him. If he falls from that height, not even I won''t be able to heal him."


    None of the three men released the rope.


    "I agree," Bjorn said. "We should pull him back to the ground and come up with a detailed testing strategy."


    "Let''s start pulling him back then," Quinn said.


    To Kiera''s horror, she felt the unmistakable sensation of ethermancy from the end of the kite. Immediately she quested out to try and claim the ether in Seth''s aura, but it was too late. The rope was severed clean just a few feet down its length, and the three men on the lawn fell back into an undignified heap. Vince lost focus on his ethermancy and the wind weave died out.


    To his credit, Seth leaned forward, causing the kite to dive toward the grass and rapidly pick up speed. However, he was still fighting against a tail wind, and he must have realized it very quickly, because he shifted his weight to one side and initiated a roll. The kite twisted around in a long helix until it was facing the opposite direction, angled slightly down, almost completely stationary against the light headwind.


    "I have seen seabirds do such things," Irene observed. "Sometimes seagulls fly in the same spot against the wind, waiting for their prey to reveal itself in the sand."


    Seth laughed and cheered. "Guys! You''ve got to try this!"


    "You get down from there!" Kiera bellowed. She used wind-aspect ethermancy to amplify her voice, so she was certain Seth could hear her.


    A powerful gust of wind struck the kite, plucking it up and away like a child''s lost balloon. Kiera heard Seth curse, but there was not much she could do to help him. After a few seconds he was floating at least a hundred feet off the ground. The huge wings of the craft were clearly visible, but the man strapped to the underside was just a tiny speck.


    Skillfully, and calmly, Seth continued his descent by leaning forward, but the ground was sloping away faster than he could descend, and he was being blown to the north, toward the apex where the two great escarpments met.


    When he realized this, he cried out, "throw the rope up to me! Hurry!"


    Kiera knew that none of the others could hear his cries, but she amplified the sound with an inverted wind barrier, and she relayed his cries to the students. As one, they chased after the kite, down and to the north, into the streets of the nearby town. Somebody on the balcony of the Seven Witches Cafe cried out, and soon people were pouring out of the buildings onto the cobblestones to watch the hapless man being dragged away into the sky.


    "We need a horse!" Claire cried. "I am your princess! I need a horse right now!"


    A nearby constabulary blew his whistle, drawing their attention. Shortly thereafter, an Aden family soldier arrived, clad in red and black and mounted upon a fine stallion.


    "Chase him!" Claire commanded. "Take the rope. If you can get close, throw it up to him."


    It took just a few moments for Bjorn to coil the rope and pass it off to the soldier. He bounded off at a swift gallop, leaving the students and the two princesses behind. Seth was slowly descending to the north, and apparently he was growing desperate because he began rocking the wings side to side.


    "Don''t do that!" Bjorn cried. "Kiera, tell him not to rock the wings!"


    "Is it hurting him?" Kiera asked.


    "The shortest distance is a straight line, not a winding curve. He needs to get down faster than the wind can take him away!"


    Kiera relayed this command with an amplified voice, and thankfully Seth immediately stopped rocking. But the man had flown too far, and the air above the apex of White Chasm was sinking violently. The clouds poured over the escarpments like white waterfalls, dragging Seth down into the abyss. The Aden soldier stopped short of the escarpment and feebly hurled the rope over the edge. Kiera knew that she would not be witness to whatever became of Seth. She grabbed Claire by the arm and dragged her back to a halt.


    "There''s nothing we can do," Kiera said. "Claire, there is no reason to watch. I am certain he will be fine, but there is no reason to trouble ourselves watching his flight through the chasm."


    "Why did we let him go up there?" Claire asked.


    But to that question, Kiera had no answer.

 Interlude 2: The Light of Dawn

    First Mate Harding stood upon the bow of the steamboat Chasm Citizen, watching the huge iron boom slowly sink below the mirror-like surface of the harbor. The flags from the tower indicated that they were cleared to enter into the port, but that they should expect an intercept with the port inspector.


    He''s going to want a sweetener, Harding thought.


    Technically, the cargo wasn''t illegal. However, if the press found out that King Edwin Aden had ordered hundreds of religious idols and banners from the Theocracy of the Lawgiver, there would be hell to pay, both for the King and for the crew of the Chasm Citizen. But the harbor inspectors had become relatively easy to bribe, ever since the King came to power and slashed their wages.


    "Half power ahead!" the captain cried.


    "Half power ahead!" the pilot repeated.


    The ship''s bell rang out, filling the air with its shrill cry. The steam engine whistled and whirred, and ever so slowly the steamboat accelerated toward the port. The sky above was clear and blue, with only a few long trails of white mist in that wintery air beyond even the spires. Directly ahead, the two great promontories of White Chasm rose to either side of the harbor, high overhead like the bows of two vast warships. Harding always thought that his hometown was somewhat impractical. After all, who sees a pair of opposing cliffs and imagines buildings cut into the walls and bridges spanning every inch of the available space?


    The bright green and indigo lights on the bow of the inspector''s ship flashed in his vision as the other craft aligned with the Chasm Citizen. More bells rang out as the two craft drew closer together.


    "What is that?" the captain bellowed.


    Harding turned to see the captain standing behind the guardrail by the cabin. He was pointing high up into the sky, in the direction of the city. Harding followed this line to the very apex of White Chasm, where the two escarpments met. There was a shining golden orb, glowing like the light of dawn, bobbing about in between the bridges and the arches and the gantries, sailing on some unseen river of air.


    The captain marched forward with his spyglass in hand, his gaze transfixed by the strange light. Meanwhile the harbor inspector''s boat was closing the distance rapidly, but the crew of the other boat seemed to have noticed the light as well, because they were slowing down and turning away.


    "What do you see?" the captain asked as he handed the spyglass off to Harding.


    It was somewhat difficult to look at directly. It was not as bad as looking directly into the sun, but it still took some time for his vision to adjust. The light had a strange crystalline rainbow sheen to it, somewhere between copper and gold, and in the very center there was a dark pair of arches, like the wings of a seagull. Narrowly dodging a bridge, the thing pitched up and the full shape of it came into view. Indeed, it looked like some type of massive bird, featuring a long boom on the rear ending with a pair of smaller wings and a fishtail.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "I think it''s some type of kite," Harding said.


    "A kite? Ah, fair point. Let me take another look." The captain snatched the spyglass. "Father Winter, you''re right! That''s some sort of glowing kite. I wonder what those rich bastards up in the fjord have come up with now? Bah!"


    The captain stomped off toward the cabin, but Harding continued to watch the thing as it cleared the last of the bridges and soared out over the harbor. After a few moments of watching, Harding began to suspect that the thing was headed straight for him.


    "Captain!" he cried. "Captain, that thing is going to hit us!"


    "It might come close," the captain agreed. "Quarter speed, hard to life-ward."


    "Quarter speed, hard to life-ward!" the pilot repeated.


    As the flying thing came closer, Harding began to make out the shape of a man strapped to the bottom. The kite itself was not glowing, instead, the man''s skin appeared to be the source of that golden light. It was just ahead, floating gently down over the water, when Harding began to make out the ship''s rigging that lashed the man in place. Even before the hapless man hit the water Harding was already kicking off his boots.


    "Captain!" he cried. "Give me your knife!"


    The wooden kite thing banked slightly, which caused one wing to strike the water. The whole affair reeled over and broke apart, spraying chunks of shattered wood out across the water just ahead. The poor man began splashing erratically as he sank.


    By the time the captain drew his blade and handed it to Harding, he had already doffed his shirt and socks. As the boat swung around toward the shattered kite, Harding doffed his trousers and leapt, naked, into the icy water. His long exposure to the sea prevented his body from going into shock as he plunged into the darkness in search of the man. An arm reached out and grasped his leg, far below the surface of the water, in the inky darkness. However, that light was still glowing strong, and Harding was able to swim down with his knife, eyes open, and ravage the expert rigging that held the man fast.


    The fellow was still awake when they both burst into the fresh light of the surface. The boy gasped, and his skin was no longer glowing at all. Little bits of wood floated around them, and the drab orange hull of the Chasm Citizen loomed overhead, blocking sight of the city. The pilot had done a good job of positioning the steamboat. The captain threw a lifesaver overboard, which Harding expertly caught with one arm.


    "Up we go boy," Harding said. "Easy now."


    The captain and the pilot worked together to pull the two men up onto the deck.


    "She spoke to me," the boy said. He was shivering then, either from cold or from excitement, Harding could not say.


    "Alright boy," Harding said, "if you don''t want to freeze to death, I recommend taking your clothes off. We got plenty of dry clothes on board."


    "She spoke to me," the boy repeated. "She said I needed to inspire them. She said it was a command."


    The inspector''s boat pulled up alongside the Chasm Citizen, and the inspector, clad in black and red, called out, "Permission to board, captain?"


    "Permission granted!" the captain replied.


    The inspector glanced at Harding, who stood dripping on the deck, naked as the day he was born, and said dryly, "my inspection isn''t going to be quite so thorough, sir."

 Chapter 32: A Question of Control

    Through Vince''s huge birdwatching spyglass, Quinn was able to see the boats in the harbor fish his brother out of the water. Claire Aden was sobbing when he brought the good news to the two princesses, and even Kiera sighed with relief. Alone, Quinn began the long descent along the cacophony of bridges that spanned White Chasm. He found Seth at a tavern about halfway down, chugging pitchers of ale with a trio of sailors. Quinn recognized the dim, crowded stone tavern, cut into the western bluff, from his first visit to midtown with Seth and Maxius. Quinn almost didn''t recognize his own brother sitting at the bar because he was dressed like a sailor.


    "Ahoy brother!" Seth cried when he saw Quinn standing at the bar. "Did you see my flight?"


    "The whole city saw it," Quinn reported. "I''ve even heard fanciful tales saying that you were glowing like the sun, though by the time I arrived at the edge of the cliffs you had already hit the water."


    "Those tales are not fanciful," one of the sailors said. "I saw it with my own eyes."


    "Aye," another of the sailors said. This one was quite a bit older, and dressed like a ship''s captain. "I ain''t ever seen nothing like it. A man flying through the sky like a bird, glowing like the sun."


    Seth beckoned Quinn to come closer. Quinn walked beyond his brother, to the space between the next barstool over, and leaned over to listen.


    "Brother," Seth whispered. "I heard her voice again."


    "What voice?" Quinn asked.


    "That voice. Remember? Heritor Maxius the Elder seemed to know what it was. That voice I heard in my head. I heard it again, as I was flying the kite down through the chasm."


    "That''s not possible," Quinn whispered. "There should have been nobody near you as you flew. What did this voice say?"


    "I told you, the voice was in my head. It was a girl''s voice, child-like, delicate even. It sounded a bit like wind chimes. She named me ''fire soul.'' She said something like, ''Heed my command, fire soul, inspire them!''"


    Quinn glanced suspiciously at his brother''s huge tankard of ale. "Are you sure that''s not the beer playing with your memories?"


    "I felt like she was there with me, brother. Flying with me. Guiding me between the bridges and out into the harbor. And they say I was glowing, Quinn. Glowing like the sun."


    "This is pointless," Quinn said. "You said you heard a voice, and that you were glowing. Very well. I''ll accept that. But it doesn''t change the fact that you almost died."


    A tavern girl walked behind the bar with a platter of tankards, and with a gesture from Quinn she deposited one beside Seth''s own.


    "So what went wrong?" Quinn asked as he plucked the tankard off the bar and took a sip. It wasn''t very good, bitter and mildly sour.


    "My ability to control it was too limited," Seth replied. "I tried to reach down and adjust the jackscrew, but my hands were locked in place by the rigging."This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "That seems like a bad idea. The rear wing is what prevents the thing from diving nose-first into the ground."


    "Right, but that''s exactly what I needed this morning. What I really wanted, what I really needed during that flight, was control. I wished that I could pitch the nose up and down, or roll the wings, or even move the nose left or right. Merely shifting my weight around wasn''t enough to overcome the wind."


    "So you are saying you want to be able to choose to initiate a nosedive?"


    "I want the thing to fly straight if I''m not touching anything. However, if I choose to change directions, then there should be a mechanism that allows it."


    "Imagine that you are flying the kite now," Quinn said. "And let''s say you want to initiate a nosedive. What do you do?"


    "Another thing," Seth said. "I don''t think it''s safe to be strapped to the kite with all that rigging. These sailors needed to use a knife to cut me loose."


    "Right, one problem at a time. Imagine that your barstool is hanging from the bottom of the kite, and you can jump out at any time. You want to go down. What do you do?"


    Seth reached forward and put both hands on the handle of his tankard. "Very well. Imagine that this beer is with me while I am flying."


    "I would highly recommend against it," Quinn said dryly.


    "So if I wanted to go down, then I would tip the tankard forward with the handle, like this." When he tipped the beer forward, a little bit escaped over the far lip and splashed down on the bar. "A great tragedy, to lose so much beer. Anyways, now that I have pushed forward, the kite should now be pointing down at the ground."


    "And then when you release the pressure on your tankard, the kite should return to a neutral position?"


    "That''s a good question," Seth said, reeling. "Ask me when I''m not three beers deep."


    They rented a room in the tavern to avoid hiking up to the fjord while drunk. It was dimly-lit, all stone carved into the mountain, and furnished with a pair of cheap wooden beds and dull red rugs. The next morning Quinn was awakened by a knock at the door. Groggily, he stalked across the rugs barefoot to answer. It was the plump bartender from the night before, holding a rolled broadsheet in one hand, which he offered to Quinn.


    "Your brother''s made the front page," the man said. Then he waddled off down the hallway out of sight.


    The front page of the broadsheet featured a wood-cut caricature of Seth''s kite, with stubby little wings and no tail, flying straight forward, through a narrow gap between the two cliff faces, with a cacophony of bridges looming ominously in the distance. Quinn began reading.


    Suicidal University Student Crashes Flying Machine: Yesterday morning, a student enrolled at the University of White Chasm crashed a small flying machine into the White Chasm Harbor, after descending through the entire city in front of thousands of witnesses. According to eyewitness reports, the pilot had no method of controlling the craft, and he was completely at the mercy of the winds. Our very own Princess Claire Aden was witness to the event, and she had this to say, "The wind carried him away like a child''s balloon, up and up, until he reached the chasm and he was sucked down and out of sight. I was terrified!"


    University meteorologists say that air normally flows out of the fjord down into the chasm, carrying clouds and birds with it. On his perilous journey, the student in question miraculously dodged hundreds of individual bridges before gliding down into the harbor, where his flying machine broke apart, and where he was rescued by the nearby vessels. Expert statisticians from the University of White Chasm estimate that the boy''s odds of survival were one in a million.


    Professor Atlas vin Truscae, an expert in the special science of ethermancy, had this to say, "The only flying machines that are known to be safe, are the lighter-than-air machines, such as hot air balloons and airships. We have a special graveyard for students that died attempting to fly on other types of flying machine. The human body was never meant to fly. It''s remarkable that he survived the ordeal."


    Quinn wanted to scream. "Those idiots!" he hissed. "They twisted it all out of proportion! Father Winter, those damn journalists. They don''t know anything at all!"

 Chapter 33: Three-Axis Theory

    Later that day, Quinn summoned the members of the White Chasm Aviation Club for a special meeting. All of the students in the club shared a sort of somber disapproval in their facial expressions, but to the shock of everyone present, Kiera Blaine exploded as soon as she walked through the door.


    "You idiot!" she bellowed. "How dare you use ethermancy to cut the rope. Without warning anyone! You nearly gave me a heart attack. You nearly got yourself killed!"


    Then she turned and stomped off. They waited for her to return, but she never did. So they started the meeting without Kiera and without the little Claire Aden.


    "At this meeting of the White Chasm Aviation Club," Quinn began, "I want to discuss my Three-Axis Theory of aircraft control."


    "I take it you have developed this theory in response to Seth''s little adventure in the chasm?" Bjorn said.


    "Indeed. When you and my brother tested the stability of the craft, what did you do? How did you test it?"


    "We rocked the wings," Bjorn replied. "We batted the nose and the tail up, down, left, and right, to see if it would return to the original position."


    "Now imagine that there are three perpendicular axes."


    "Like a three-dimensional vector space," Bjorn said.


    "I have not taken that particular math class," Quinn admitted, "however I am familiar with the idea from my own research today. What you and Seth established before the flight was that the kite was stable along each of the three axes. The upward slant of the main wings contributes to roll stability, the rear wing contributes to pitch stability, and finally the weathervane shape of the craft contributes to yaw stability."


    Bjorn nodded thoughtfully. Then, in a flurry of motion, he began sketching some sort of math diagram on a sheet of graph paper.


    "There have been several instances," Quinn continued, "where Vince has demonstrated, through his paintings of birds, that the tips of the wings can be warped up or down. Each wing is warped opposite to the other, and in this manner birds can roll side-to-side and also change directions. We can say this is the first axis of control. It will consist of surfaces on the end of the wings that go up or down, configured to always be opposite one another.


    "The second axis of control will be found on the tail. It will be a pair of surfaces that go up or down on that smaller wing in the back. This controls the pitch. You can point the nose up or down with that control. Me and Seth discussed the mechanism of control at length, and we decided that these two axes of control can be wired to a stick in front of the pilot. So, the question I want to answer in this meeting of the Aviation Club is, ''How can the pilot physically control a third axis?''"


    "You must allow the rudder to move," Irene said.


    "Wait, why would we need a third axis?" Vince asked. "Birds have wings and tails, and as you said, they are able to turn by simply rolling. Why would we need more than that?"This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "Because," Seth said, "I want to be able to keep the nose straight forward, independently of roll."


    "As Irene said, we need to add a moving surface analogous to a ship''s rudder. We don''t know exactly when we would need to use this surface, but me and Seth both agree that it''s better to have it and not need it than the alternative. So, once we have established that there should be a third axis of control, then we must tackle the question of how the pilot will manipulate the new surface."


    "You could add a ship''s wheel," Irene said. "Any sailor would know what it is used for."


    "But what if I want both hands on the stick?" Seth asked. "What if the winds are intense and I need the strength of both hands to even move the stick at all?"


    "If the winds are so fierce," she replied dryly, "then perhaps you should use your feet to hold the stick. After all, your leg muscles are strong. That would free your hands to control the rudder with a standard ship''s wheel."


    "Feet?" Quinn asked. "That''s actually not a terrible idea."


    "I suppose that is our only other option," Seth said. "I would hold the stick with my hands to control the first and second axes, then the third axis would be controlled with a pair of foot pedals. If I''m just sitting there, my legs are probably not doing anything important anyways."


    "So have we decided to move to a configuration where the pilot is sitting?" Bjorn asked.


    "Yeah," Quinn said. "Sorry, we probably should have mentioned that before. We are going to remove all that rigging holding the pilot in place, and instead we will suspend a platform below the wing, where the pilot will be strapped into a seated position. This way, if the pilot is in danger, they can just remove the straps and jump out."


    "So our next order of business is to engineer the cable and lever system that will allow this three-axis control scheme to work," Bjorn said. "Is there anything else?"


    "I don''t think so," Quinn said. "Let''s get to work."


    "Wait!" Irene protested. "There is something you are all forgetting. A good woman just left because you have insulted her. You must find her and apologize for your stupidity, and you must promise to never be so stupid again."


    "Is that really adding any value?" Quinn asked, but even before he finished the question he knew it was a hollow protest. Kiera is a healer, after all. It might be a good idea to make sure she stays in the club.


    "What kind of a stupid question is that?" Irene hissed. "If you cannot keep your promises then perhaps I should leave the club as well."


    "Making promises is not the same thing as keeping them," Seth said. "In other words, even if we are beholden to our promises, that doesn''t physically prevent us from making mistakes."


    "So you put some effort into it!" Irene said. "Before a Sea Mother sets sail, she listens to the wind. She listens to the sea. She rigidly follows the traditions of those who came before so that she does not forget their lives, their mistakes, and their deaths. But you boys refuse to listen!"


    "This is a fair point," Bjorn said quickly. "We should have some standard set of safety traditions, as she said. A list of safety-related tasks that we slavishly follow without question and without error. For example, we can add one item to the list right away: ''No cutting the rope without warning.''"


    "Maybe we should come up with a list of ways that birds can die," Vince offered.


    "We should be willing to take inspiration from anywhere," Bjorn agreed.


    "I think she makes a good point," Seth said. "Why expose ourselves to the same risks over and over? Maybe we should research how those students in the graveyard died."


    "Maybe we can design the next flying machine to have the lessons of their deaths encoded into the design," Quinn said. "Where possible. In cases where it is not possible, then we will need to encode them some other way, perhaps by recording them in a book. That way, if future students have access to our book, then they might refrain from repeating our mistakes."


    "Thank you, Irene," Seth said with a warm smile. "You may have just saved my life."

 Chapter 34: The Mistakes of Others

    Quinn began his research by visiting the graveyard and recording a list of all the names on the headstones. Then, he made his way to the dean''s office.


    Yana Justicia Sophia regarded him coldly from across her huge oaken desk. After just a few weeks, the middle-aged woman appeared to have added several more years worth of lines to her long, disapproving face.


    "What''s this about?" she asked flatly.


    "I have a list of names here," Quinn began. He offered her the sheet of paper with the names, and when she began to read, her face betrayed an unmistakable grimace. "I would like to know how these students died."


    "They fell out of the sky and exploded," the dean said. "If, for some reason, you felt compelled to rob those graves, you would not find a single bone in the proper place."


    "Yes, I understand that. But I want to know the exact circumstances. I want to know the weather on the day they died. I want to know the shape of the flying machine they were flying. I want to know how old they were and whether or not they were in good health."


    The dean sighed deeply. "Do you know what I''ve had to go through because of you and your brother?"


    "I can imagine that the members of the press were very anxious to know all about Seth''s flight," Quinn said.


    "It''s not just the press. In the past two days, I have met the city sheriff, two private detectives from a local insurance company, and no less than a dozen oculomancers from Spire Lyn. As a matter of fact, when you leave this room, there is a fair chance you will bump into another oculomancer on the way out."


    "What do they want to know?" Quinn asked.


    "What do you think they want to know? The names of the people you have been talking to. The names of the books you check out from the library. The names of the professors who are teaching you. Do you not understand? Do you not have any inkling, any iota of understanding about just how dangerous flying machines are? I''d wager that before this week is up, King Edwin will decree that your little Aviation Club is unlawful, and then the police will shut the whole thing down."


    "That is a possibility," Quinn admitted. "However, right now I am trying to make our flying machine less dangerous. So I will ask again, ''How did those students die?''"


    "I do not know if those records exist," the dean said with another sigh. "The best I can do is give you the enrollment dates for the students. The last year of enrollment will be the year of their deaths. You will need to cross-reference the public records for more details. Also, to further complicate things, many of the students here are immigrants, so their records might have been sent to their individual nations of origin."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "How long will it take?"


    "Give me a week, I''ll have one of my assistants compile a list. However, in the meantime, I can tell you everything I know about the first name on the list. The name ''Marty'' without a doubt refers to one Martin vin Truscae."


    "Is he related to Professor Atlas?" Quinn asked excitedly.


    "As far as I know, they were brothers. They both attended the university at the same time, not unlike you and Seth. I am going to assume that Atlas vin Truscae knows all the details about his brother''s death."


    "Thank you!" Quinn beamed.


    When he left the office he discovered that, just as Yana had predicted, there was an oculomancer in the waiting room, watching him leave with inhuman eyes.


    Once again, Atlas vin Truscae proved to be an illusive man. He was not in his office, nor was he in the library, on the lawn, or in any of his usual labs and classrooms. Frustratingly, none of the students seemed to know where he was, even though he had given lectures earlier that day. Perhaps from desperation, or perhaps because of blind luck, Quinn decided to visit the graveyard again.


    There, standing above Marty''s grave, the professor stood solemnly, sipping a tankard of ale. A second tankard of ale rested at the top of the headstone.


    "I knew you would come," the professor said.


    "Professor," Quinn said hesitantly. "He was your brother right? Martin vin Truscae? Do you remember how he died?"


    "Of course I remember. I remember how many teeth on his jacket zipper were left unclasped. I remember the reflection of my shadowy body on his freshly-polished leather shoes. I remember the color of his wife''s lipstick smeared on his cheek. I remember every single detail."


    "How did he die?" Quinn asked.


    "His flying machine killed him."


    "I think you know exactly what I am asking," Quinn said bitterly. "What went wrong? What are the exact circumstances that resulted in his death?"


    "I stood before the oculomancers and swore an oath that I would never speak of such things," the professor said. "I have never broken my oath. Then, or now."


    "I will simply check the public records," Quinn threatened.


    "There are no public records."


    "Then I will check the broadsheets!"


    "There are no broadsheets. This one piece of stone is the only record that my brother ever lived. But, I do not despair. I know, deep down, that even after I am long gone, the memory of my brother will not be forgotten. It will live on, for ever and ever."


    "Who else knows the story?" Quinn asked.


    "It is not my place to say. She operates too deeply and too darkly for one such as I."


    "The Elder Saint?"


    "Haha!" Professor Atlas rasped. "No, not the Elder Saint. The Elder Saint is aloof, if she even exists. You know, you caused quite the controversy in your history class. Not many people would guess that the Bloodraker is still alive. But I think your theory has merit. And, because your theory has merit, I wonder at the wisdom of this Aviation Club of yours. After all, if the Bloodraker is still alive, then she is no doubt waiting for you in the sky. And why, dear student, would you ever want to leave the safety of the fog to meet her?"

 Chapter 35: The Hanging Throne

    The western half of the Aden family palace was constructed entirely from the strange bone-white material that was common in the university. The eastern half of the palace was cut right into the Spine Range, jet-black rough-hewn rock. This gave the impression that the entire palace was split down the middle, half white, and half black. Huge dawn-red banners hung from the ceiling in every hallway, each featuring the likeness of a black swan, the sigil of House Aden.


    The throne room was much taller than the rest of the rooms and hallways in the palace, a huge vaulted chamber with a glass ceiling, reminiscent of a greenhouse. The glass continued down the north wall, and it even replaced the northern section of the floor, because the far end of the chamber was suspended over the dusky sky, supported only by ethersteel struts on the exterior. The Hanging Throne rested on a platform in the middle of that skybox, suspended from a half black, half bone-white arch. Kiera suspected that there was a ladder or a stairway behind the throne, allowing access to a secret tunnel inside the arch.


    In the very center of the room, there was what appeared to be a giant bronze disk embedded into the floor itself, and a circular hole had been cut in the fine red carpet to expose the thing. It featured a depiction of three small orbs connected by conduits, with stars and little crescent shapes scattered about. There was a large glyph in the very center, which Kiera did not recognize as belonging to any language she had ever seen.


    The hall was lined to either side with flickering crimson flames, which enhanced the dusky light overhead and cast flickering shadows of the soldiers which lined the room. King Edwin Aden sat upon the Hanging Throne, surrounded by a halo of the same crimson flames. He looked to be about thirty, with a hard face, short raven-black hair, and a neatly-trimmed beard. He wore the red robes common to the members of the Aden clan, decorated with black and silver filigree, but he also wore a silver crown.


    Kiera was not impressed, in spite of the heavy-handed attempt at architectural intimidation. Her father''s castle had withstood sieges and attacks from Heritors, but she suspected a strong breeze could break those windows and expose the Hanging Throne to the elements. There was only one time in history when the palace had been attacked by a Heritor, and King Redmond went out into the fjord to fight an honorable duel rather than risk damage to the structure. The old Empress Sasha had been less than honorable during the duel, and King Redmond ended up with a spirit-lattice ethersteel spear through his heart.


    Claire marched forward confidently to stand before the Hanging Throne, and the herald cried: "Princess Claire of House Aden!"


    "What is this about, sister?" King Edwin asked.


    "Brother," Claire said. "You must disband the White Chasm Aviation Club. It is too dangerous, and it puts the lives of university students at risk."


    "Lyn is a land of laws," Edwin said "There are no laws preventing young men from taking risks."


    "But the Heritor Oaths!"


    "I have broken no oaths," the King continued. "If our honored ancestor, the Morning Mist, wishes to disband the club, then she will do so. However, her schemes are far beyond my capacity to understand. I do not want to get involved."


    "He has a point," Kiera whispered.


    Claire grimaced. "As you say, brother. I will speak to our honored ancestor."


    They left together, but they were quickly separated by the palace staff and led to their respective rooms. Kiera''s own room resembled Claire''s room back at the university, all blacks and reds and silver filigree. The crimson sunset poured in through the western windows, and the warm light contrasted with the chilly mountain air that filled the chamber. With a quick splash of ethermancy, Kiera warmed the air and then sank down into her bedding. Comfortable and alone, she rested her eyes for a little while.


    Hovering somewhere between sleep and consciousness, she allowed her mind to wander. Questions are more important than answers, Fiona had said. What question does she expect me to ask? What am I missing?


    She tried to visualize Seth and Quinn. Seth rode high in the air on a powered kite, an airplane in truth. Quinn stood upon the ground looking up, checking the boxes on a long scientific checklist, while taking notes on the margins with arcane equations. What would happen if they wrote a book that described their findings? she wondered. Then a method of inventing the airplane would become common knowledge. And then maybe somebody would attempt to challenge the Elder Saint in her spire.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    But that also didn''t make any sense. Only another witch could even hope to challenge the Elder Saint.


    The first thing they do is they make themselves smarter, Fiona had said. Kiera felt a chill. Her lucid dream of Seth and Quinn shifted. Seth suddenly transformed into a witch, brimming with enough power to challenge the Elder Saint. Combined with a pre-existing understanding of airplane design...


    "What would happen if somebody from the Aviation Club suddenly transforms into a witch?" Kiera asked aloud, though there was nobody else in the room to hear her question.


    Questions are more important than answers.


    Kiera imagined that problem creeping into the world over and over in centuries long past. The oculomancers would need to carefully censor any document that could aid in the invention of an airplane. And Sir Zachary had once told her: Young men, idiots that think they can invent the flying machine, will eventually get a surprise visit from that woman.


    So why didn''t Fiona of the Morning Mist attack? Even if there was information to be gleaned from observing them, even if they discovered a list of books to censor or a list of raw materials to make contraband, the risk posed by one of those young men transforming into a witch must be too great, right?


    Right?


    Kiera felt wrong. Something was missing. Or, rather, someone. Claire Aden had not ventured into her bedroom to claim half of Kiera''s bed for herself.


    Groggily, Kiera wrapped herself in a red-black robe and ventured out into the hallway outside. Two men stood guard outside her door, both garbed in bright red robes and wearing black masks. They were armed with spirit-lattice ethersteel swords. They turned to her, then each dropped to one knee and bowed.


    "Mender Kiera," one of the guards said. "Forgive us. The Eyes of Flame asked us to stand guard outside your chamber."


    "Why would she do that?" Kiera asked.


    "Because," the man continued, "the palace is not as safe as it once was. Corruption spreads through these halls, and the oculomancers are unable to contain it."


    "Strange," Kiera said. Could it be related to those dice games Sir Zachary spoke of? Aloud, she said, "In any case, I was expecting Princess Claire to pay me a visit. Do you know where she is?"


    "Unfortunately," the guard said, "Princess Claire has been summoned by her brother. He left explicit instructions that they were not to be disturbed."


    "Bring me to them now," Kiera said.


    "Yes, great witch. Follow me."


    The two men led Kiera through the halls and up the stairways to the Aden clan''s private quarters, on the floor overlooking the glass roof above the Hanging Throne. They arrived at a solid metal door that appeared to have been sealed with metal-aspect ethermancy. Kiera transformed the door into a liquid and parted the metal to either side, revealing a dim game room complete with gambling tables and taxidermic trophies.


    Edwin Aden sat across from his sister at the dice table, and to his right there sat another man, one which Kiera immediately recognized. She had spent four years at the Eight Color Monastery, and that creep had been ogling her and her friends the entire time.


    "Maxius the Younger," Kiera said as she glided into the room.


    "What is she doing here?" Maxius hissed.


    "Kiera this is a private meeting," Edwin said. "Family members only."


    "Maxius is not your family," Keira observed. "Me and Claire had both decided that we are going to be sisters, so that makes us family. Claire, are you alright?"


    "This infidel is trying to get me to convert to his foul religion!" Claire said. She pointed one finger at Maxius accusingly. "My brother lost his mind and agreed to convert! Can you believe that? My family, corrupted by the Theocracy?"


    "Is it true?" Kiera asked.


    "This isn''t any of your business," Maxius said. "Go find somebody that needs healing and leave us alone."


    "Answer my question," Kiera insisted.


    "Wait," Edwin said. "You need to hear my side of the story."


    His head sank down onto his palms. He dug his fingernails into his scalp, as if he was trying to pull his hair out.


    "I am beginning to remember what my life was like before," the king said. "Before this life I mean. My past life, I think. I was trying to escape the Purple Dragons. You see, I insulted one of them somehow, and they sent somebody to kill me. But that''s not the worst of it. They wanted me to be reincarnated as a slave after I died. So I made a deal with a Blue Dragon, and when I died I ended up here in this world. Oh, and the Blue Dragon said he was called Father Winter here in this world. That''s all I remember. It''s all very fuzzy."


    Kiera did remember Fiona saying something about how the original settlers came to this world because they were trying to escape the Purple Dragons.


    "How do you think converting to this religion is going to help?" she asked.


    "Maxius promised me that his god, the Lawgiver, will be able to claim my soul, and prevent me from returning to that place where I was before."


    "You didn''t need to reveal something so private," Maxius said. "It''s none of her damn business."


    "Anything involving Claire is my business," Kiera said. "Maxius is lying to you. His entire religion is one of one hundred religions invented by Renna. She made them fight each other until only one religion was left. There is no Lawgiver, only Renna, and she is long dead."


    "That''s a lie!" Maxius insisted. "Don''t listen to her, Edwin. You need to think about your soul."


    "Let''s get out of here," Claire said.


    The child shoved herself away from the dice table and marched out of the gaming room. Kiera followed. The two men with black masks waited for them outside.


    "I need you to deliver a message to the Eyes of Flame," Kiera said.


    "At once," one of the guards replied.


    "I need a message sent through emergency channels to Heritor Alyesha."

 Chapter 36: Third Prototype

    It was foggy with light rain, and it was very cold. There was no wind. Seth and Bjorn grunted as they dragged the latest prototype out of the workshop to avoid the risk of damage from engine testing. The new craft implemented the three-axis control scheme, with a stick between the pilot''s legs and a pair of foot pedals to control the rudder.


    "Do you think it will be safe out here?" Quinn asked.


    Seth pointed up to the red flags at the top of the nearby belfries, barely visible through the fog. They were limp against the flagpoles.


    "I will tie some bells into the rigging," Irene said. "If we leave the workshop door open, we will be able to hear the wind."


    The tables inside the workshop had all been moved to the sides to make room for the prototype, leaving an open area in the center of the room. A small pile of metal ingots were stacked in the center of the space, along with a handful of sturdy wooden blocks.


    "So we have two problems that I want to discuss today," Quinn said. "First, we need to figure out how the engine is going to work. Second, we need to design the propeller. I suggest that we discuss the engine first. Are there any objections?"


    "That sounds good to me," Vince said.


    Vince had volunteered to work on the propeller design, and Quinn assumed that he would be the only one in the club with an interest in the matter.


    "I have scoured the library searching for books relating to engine design," Quinn said. "I did not find a single book on the topic. There is plenty of training material describing how to operate a steam engine, but nothing describing how to design a new one. I asked the professors. Atlas vin Truscae was the only professor with any information on the topic. He told me that steam engines are designed at Spire Sophia, in the mountains between Zairo and Truscasia. Individual nations have factories for assembling and maintaining the engines, but Lyn does not have such a factory."


    "So where do the engines in White Chasm come from?" Seth asked.


    "Grael Nydia," Quinn replied. "Among the locks ascending from the lower river up to the city. It''s a six week journey by steamboat, so going there is not an option. Apparently there was a factory in the harbor, but it was destroyed generations ago. The order came from Empress Sasha after she killed King Redmond and took the city for her family."


    "What about the Theocracy?" Seth asked.


    "I was not able to find out," Quinn said. "I have not seen Maxius since he left for the palace. Maybe Kiera or Claire would know, but I am fairly certain that they have quit the club permanently."


    "I have not seen them on campus," Bjorn said. "Either way, I think it''s safe to assume that we are not going to get any help from them in any reasonable timeframe. We need to work with the resources we have. So have you made any progress on a design starting from first principles?"


    "In theory," Quinn began, "if you use ethermancy to create heat, then you can boil water and then use the steam to push a piston or spin a turbine. Once the steam has done its work, it needs to be cooled using ethermancy so it can be reclaimed. For closed-circuit engines, the fireman needs to alternate between two weaves, one fire-aspect and the other water-aspect. I did some experiments with glass tubes and flasks, however I don''t think we can avoid simple trial-and-error using metal components."Stolen novel; please report.


    "That''s fine," Seth said. "But that wasn''t what I was asking."


    Quinn offered a bundle of papers with a few of his working designs. Seth scratched his head, uncomprehending, but Bjorn gave a low whistle.


    "You are insane," Bjorn said.


    "What am I looking at?" Seth asked.


    "My current design uses eight pistons. A single boiler is used to heat the water in eight isolated closed-circuit steam engines arranged radially around a central gearbox. All eight circuits pass through a heat exchanger. Therefore, all sixteen components can be heated or cooled by just two weaves, just like a train engine. The eight pistons will be carefully offset so that the power from one decompressing piston is used to re-compress the piston on the exact opposite side."


    "I might be able to come up with an equation to describe the offsets and the timing," Bjorn said.


    "Is there anything else?" Vince asked. "Because if not, I have made a lot of progress on the propeller design."


    "By all means," Seth said.


    The man pulled a detailed painting out of his folio and passed it to Quinn. It looked a bit like a ship''s propeller, but it was much longer and much narrower, with a funny twist in the middle. The diagram was very detailed, with arrows demarking various forces acting on the blades. The coloring of the wood was very skillful, in Quinn''s estimation, because it gave the image a vivid sense of depth.


    "This design is inspired by hiking," Vince announced.


    "Hiking?" Quinn asked.


    "Yes, hiking. I spend a lot of time hiking in order to reach the best birdwatching locations. So I''ve had a lot of time to think about it. Imagine that you know exactly where your destination is, however, there are two paths to reach it. One of the paths is straight and steep, the other is winding and gentle. Two hikers leave at the same time, and they both arrive at the same time. What can you say about the hikers?"


    "They must be traveling at different speeds," Bjorn said. "The hiker on the gentle slope is likely moving much faster than the fellow who is scrambling straight up the steep slope."


    "Exactly so," Vince agreed. "Imagine this propeller attached to the front of your flying machine. The flying machine travels one mile through the sky in some period of time. The propeller travels with the craft, from beginning to end. Note that the propeller is spinning very fast, which means that the tip of each propeller blade is moving much faster than the root of the same blade. However, like the two hikers traveling at different speeds, the tip and the root need to arrive at the destination at exactly the same time."


    "I am not seeing the connection," Quinn said.


    "The angle of the propeller blade relative to the air must follow exactly the same principle as the angle of the trails that the hikers are climbing. The slower hiker has a higher angle to overcome, while the faster hiker has a more gentle angle to overcome. The root of the propeller therefore must have a steep angle relative to the air, which gradually decreases as you get closer to the tip."


    "If that was not the case," Bjorn said, "then either the tips and the roots reach the destination at different times, which would imply that the propeller broke apart, or there would be an intense strain on the tips that cause them to bend, potentially reducing the power the propeller provides."


    "I understand now," Quinn said. "However, I think the weave required to craft this particular shape will be rather complex."


    "Which is why your work is so important," Seth said. "I am happy with this design Vince. Good job."


    "Boys?" Irene said from the doorway. "I went looking for some bells around campus, and when I came back... Well, perhaps you should see it for yourself."


    The four men shuffled out of the workshop to find the new prototype where they had left it. However, it was coated with a very thin layer of frost. Small icicles had begun to accumulate on the leading edges of the wings.


    "Do you think it will harm the boat?" Irene asked.


    "I will need to come up with a model," Bjorn said. "I do not know exactly how much all this moisture weighs, so I cannot give you an accurate estimate of the additional stress on the wing spars. However, those icicles will absolutely change the way air flows under the wings."


    "I agree," Vince said. "I can''t say I''ve ever seen a bird flying with icicles on the wings."


    "If the boat is not safe," Irene said, "then you will need to add this issue to your safety traditions. The ones you promised. Do you remember?"


    "I''ll add this to the checklist," Quinn promised. "No flying when it is cold and wet."

 Chapter 37: The Sister World

    The light of dawn poured in through the airplane''s window, and the heat of that light caused Kiera to stir from her sleep. Claire Aden was clinging to her, as if her life depended on it, and Kiera empathized with the girl. Kiera also wished she had a big sister to cling to. The sleek, arrowhead-shaped supersonic airplane was scary by itself, but flying through the great conduit above Spire Erika was absolutely terrifying.


    Thankfully, they had left at night and Kiera spent much of the trip sleeping. The clear night sky above Spire Lyn had been perfectly clear and filled with colorful stars. Now, the sky outside the airplane''s window was pale blue, transparent, and the stars were drowned out by the ambient light of the sun. The entire conduit had moved, fixed between the two worlds as they orbited each other through the Elemental Plane of Heaven, even as the airplane roared through the conduit toward the Sister World.


    Several ethermancers on board the craft maintained wind-aspect sound shields to protect the occupants from the noise of the supersonic engines. Other ethermancers used heaven-aspect weaves to create gravity toward the bottom of the craft. Because they had left their world behind, the ethermancers were forced to burn dream-ether candles. Beyond a handful of support staff, there were very few actual ethermancers required for the craft to operate. It flew by burning copious amounts of kerosene on the ascent, and then by falling vertically toward the Sister World on the latter half of the journey. Of course Fiona was the commander, but she had an experienced pilot, two flight engineers, and a Sister World navigator, all crowded into the cramped flight deck. Kiera had peered into the flight deck one time; the cacophony of instruments and buttons made her dizzy.


    Kiera pried herself loose from Claire''s grip and gently nudged the girl aside. She strode over to the window to check their progress.


    They were very close to the Sister World. The vast desert landscape stretched out below, the upper atmosphere shining like a ghostly pink shell. Three minor spires were visible in the distance. Each one was crowned with an airy sub-conduit which poked up into the sky like a bedroom veil.


    "I want to go home," Claire complained.


    "I knew this was going to be a problem," Kiera said. "I tried to warn you."


    "We should turn around."


    "We are past the halfway point. There isn''t enough fuel to turn the plane around."


    Kiera''s suite featured a very small shower in the lavatory, which was apparently uncommon on the craft. As witches, she and Claire had been given the largest suite at the front, far away from the engines. The water was lukewarm and the pressure wasn''t very high, but the shower still served to restore some sense of normalcy to Kiera''s morning. That was up until her watery trance was interrupted by Fiona''s voice.


    "Starting in about two minutes, expect two-times gravity in the helix around Spire Titania. Ethermancers prepare to end heaven-aspect weaves. We expect to land at Lake Rath in five minutes. Weather is clear."


    Kiera scrambled to rinse herself off. Gravity vanished before she could finish, and since the craft was still in a nose-dive, she floated, almost weightless, surrounded by globules of water which slowly grew bigger and bigger as they merged together. She held the faucet and pressed herself against the floor for a few seconds, until the nose began to rise and gravity returned.


    She dressed in her blue witch outfit, including the tall pointy hat, as Fiona had requested. Claire stood just outside, holding her black witch''s outfit tight against her thin, almost transparent shift.


    "You took too long!" Claire said.


    "It was just bad timing," Kiera replied.


    "Here, take this." Claire shoved her bundle of clothes into Kiera''s hands. Then, she doffed her shift and waddled, naked, into the shower.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "You don''t have time," Kiera observed.


    "I have three minutes!" Claire replied.


    The intense gravity made it awkward to walk as Kiera staggered toward the window. The craft was flying through the long, curving descent around Spire Titania, the seventy thousand-foot tall complement to Spire Erika. The yellow-red stone spire was strangely smooth, and the upper portions were coated in a very thin layer of frost, as the air on the Sister World was significantly drier. The whole world rotated around the window, slowly, rising ominously.


    "Thirty thousand feet," Fiona said over the loudspeaker.


    "My controls," a second woman said, presumably the pilot.


    "Your controls," Fiona agreed.


    Closer to the ground, Kiera began to make out the alien landscape. The stone was colored on a spectrum from red to yellow, layered like long bands of oil paint. The stone was smooth, and in places it formed into lumpy stalagmites, like little fingers grasping at the air. Farther away from the spire, toward the horizon, the stone gave way to a vast ocean of sand dunes. While on her own world the sky was generally blue during the day, here on the Sister World the sky was dark indigo, with a tinge of dusky pink at the very horizon, as if the atmosphere outside the conduit was very thin.


    "Fifteen degrees left on this turn," Fiona said.


    Claire staggered out of the shower, dripping wet. "Why''d you run off?" she asked. "Give me my clothes!"


    "That was fast," Kiera said.


    "Your controls," the pilot said.


    "My controls," Fiona said. "Good job. Fifteen thousand feet. Leveling off. Expect reduced gravity."


    Thankfully gravity was not reduced too much. Kiera continued watching out the window as Claire scrambled into her witch uniform. The golden desert was replaced by a vast, oily darkness, the surface of some great body of water. At the very edge of the water, there appeared to be an extremely thin boundary of dull green. Life, it seemed, had found a way to survive in this strange world.


    "Aligned with the runway," Fiona announced. "Looking good. Ten thousand feet. Arm landing gear."


    "Landing gear armed," another woman said, presumably one of the engineers.


    The darkness was rising quickly to meet them. In the distance, beyond the edge of the lake, Kiera began to make out conspicuous geometric patterns. In fact, there was an entire city built on the edge of the lake, with neat city blocks, vast plantations, and enormous glass gardens shimmering green in the sunlight. As they descended, the city hugged the lake shore, growing closer and closer to the approaching airplane.


    "Two thousand feet," Fiona said.


    "Three knots overspeed."


    "Noted. Arm air brakes."


    "Air brakes armed."


    "Five hundred. Two fifty. One hundred."


    The lake ended, and the black runway rushed past in a blur, rising, ever rising.


    "Thirty. Ten."


    The entire craft jolted, and Claire, who was busy buttoning her blouse, was knocked off her feet onto the bed.


    "Touchdown," Fiona said.


    "Derotate," the pilot said.


    The nose dropped and the whole craft jolted a second time. As they rushed down the runway, Fiona and the pilot continued to chatter about their speed. Finally, the parachute was deployed and the craft slowly rolled to a stop, right on the runway.


    Walking through the main cabin, Kiera and Claire looked undignified with their wet messy hair and unkempt witch uniforms. Fiona was waiting for them at the forward door, and she smiled knowingly. "The flight engineers told me that your shower was running on approach," she said. "Let me guess, you both just woke up?"


    "Claire was too clingy!" Kiera protested.


    "You didn''t tell me the flight would be horrible!" Claire said.


    "We both warned you," Fiona said. "Either way, it''s too late to turn back now. I''m happy you''ve come around Kiera. You''re starting to ask the right questions. We''ll make you into a witch hunter yet."


    The door to the airplane opened and a pair of elderly oculomancers in turquoise robes stepped through. They bowed to Fiona, and then stepped out of the way, allowing the three witches to pass. Outside, a mobile staircase led down to the dark runway. Beyond the runway, the desert was surprisingly green, with small blue-green shrubs, dark desert flowers, and even waxy green plants coated with spines. As they began their descent, Claire gasped.


    "Kiera! Look up!"


    When Kiera looked up, she saw her own world for the first time. In the sky, at the far end of the great conduit, where the Sister World should have been, there was instead a foggy blue disk with a spider-like continent in the middle.


    "The acolytes are always shocked to see it from this side," Fiona said.


    As they moved further and further away from the airplane, and out of the range of the dream-ether candles, Kiera suddenly noticed that there was no ether to claim and consume. She felt naked without her powers.


    Fiona led them to a canal cut parallel to the runway, leading out toward Spire Titania and Lake Rath. The water was a smokey shade of dark blue, almost black, and it did not reflect the golden light of Spire Titania. A few noisy coal-powered steamboats were docked below, at the end of a long ramp cut into the yellow stone. The crew unmoored the nearest boat after the three women boarded, and then it chugged off without waiting for any additional acolytes.