One… two… three… four... One. Two. Three. Four. One, two, three, four.

  Slow down.

  Break.

  Drink.

  Start over.

  “Now, I’m not saying what she said was right or wrong. We will get to that later. What I’m saying is that it is disrespectful. You don’t talk about Renna Sorel like that. That goes for everyone! The audacity of these people.”

  Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down—hold! Steady… steady… steady… drop!

  “It’s all about politics. Petty people with petty antics. We have no proof that any of this happened. Someone out there is trying their hardest to knock down an icon. Renna Sorel has done a lot for us and this is how we can repay her. First, they went after her daughter and now they’re coming for her name. Why do you feel threatened? I’m talking to you, enemy of the people.”

  Left hook, right hook, left hook, right hook, uppercut—break.

  “So, what if it’s true? It’s a damn privilege to kiss the lips of such an immaculate lady. I will pay good money for her to kiss my son, that I can swear on. No one is going to pretend that this is an issue. The boy hasn’t complained and I bet he won’t. He’s loving the special treatment as he should. Shame his ugly girlfriend came into the picture. I understand. I would also tell lies at the expense of my dignity.

  Sit. Take a cup. Take your pills. Gulp. Bitter as hell.

  “Hello? What’s your name and where are you calling from?”

  “Hi, my name is Uve from Vivien. We’re starting a movement out here. My girls and I are giving good kisses to all the young men from door to door. There is no way we’re going to allow Renna Sorel to stand alone. And by the way, did you know it’s in scripture that when Rheina and Yuna first met, Yuna was fourteen years old? God kissed a teenager and our very own goddess can’t? I don’t think so.”

  “To be fair, we don't know what earthen claims Renna Sorel made. Whether it was a kiss or something more. Either way, we can’t go against the Holy Word. Thank you for calling.”

  Close your eyes. Take a nap. Drift away. “…We’re yet to receive any comment from Renna Sorel herself. So far, she has not come out in public with the boy to make a statement. I mean, why should she? She’s not done anything wrong. She doesn’t owe the public anything.”

  The door slid open and a nurse walked in. “Ren Regal,” she called.

  “I’ve taken every pill,” he said, dreading the bitter taste. “I counted.”

  “No, Sir, you have a visitor.”

  On a good day, he could smell magic. These days, he smelled bleach and vomit. Opening his eyes to identify people was such a bother. Mustering strength, he forced his eyelids open and rolled his eyes to one end of the bed. A rather large man occupied the room. An unattractive, large man. Rough hair. Rough beard. Rough face.

  “Please don’t tear down our hospital,” the nurse pleaded, stepping out.

  “Spectre,” said Tenrad.

  What the hell was this about? Regilon was not in the mood to converse. He forced the rest of his body upright on the bed. Waiting for the blood to settle in his skull, he sat in silence.

  “Ire,” he replied.

  Without invitation, Tenrad walked over and occupied half the bedspace. They sat side by side, one shrivelled, the other bloated.

  “I should’ve sent him away,” Tenrad said. “The day he stepped foot into my home, I should not have allowed him to speak.”

  “I warned you.”

  “When?”

  “I should’ve,” Regilon corrected. “Don’t do a thing he tells you. It never ends well.”

  Tenrad heaved and sighed with a loud grumble. “Do you believe we have a choice in loving the people we do? I lost my son earlier this year to whatever horror awaits us in the south. I warned myself to put this type of life behind me, to stop living in constant worry over my children’s well-being. And here I am, wondering what the earthen must be going through.”

  “On the bright side, he’s eating well. He’s safe in a warm home, and his life is not in immediate danger. I can’t say the same for his friend. Hanna… it’s such a shame.”

  “You speak as though she’s on death row. Her actions, though distasteful, were not a crime. We all saw how ugly we are when she held a mirror up to our faces. She is not the one to blame.”

  “I know one of you who has a habit of blaming the mirror for their blemishes.”

  Tenrad puffed steam out of his large nostrils. “Shame on you for underestimating her maturity,” he said. “She is not going to retaliate. Schemel is not a child.”

  “I know a lot of things Schemel would trade her life for. Shaphet’s Law is not enough to—”

  “Not that. Jacqolin. He has not yet arrived, yet his power suffocates us all. I cannot walk the east coast without tasting ascension on my tongue. He will keep Schemel in check.”

  Demettle was said to be behind Schemel’s downfall. He set up Wiseman as bait to get Schemel out of the Midder-Lands. Subsequently, he’d set up Hanna as bait again to smear Schemel’s name. But to what end? Why would Demettle go through the trouble to keep Schemel down? These were questions too difficult for Tenrad’s slow mind, so Regilon did not raise them.

  “Spectre.”

  “Ire.”

  “Love brought me here,” said Tenrad. “I care more for the boy than I hate you, so I came.”

  “I appreciate the affection,” Reggie said. “I do not get many visitors.”

  “There is not a selfless bone in your body, that I know for sure. You did not go to Blackwood just to save some villagers. What the real reason may be is not my concern. What I want to know is whether they are still alive.”

  “None. Just the girl.”

  Tenrad grunted. “I see.” There was a moment of silence. “Then I am justified in claiming custody of Jenne. I may be beyond my best years but I have a home. He deserves a normal life where he is protected, loved and respected by those around him. Since his parents are gone, I have a clear conscience going through with it.”

  There was never a cordial end to any encounter between these two. Tenrad was not finished. “Say it,” said Regilon, growing impatient. “What do you want to tell me?”

  “Stay away from the boy,” said Tenrad. “I’ve told you already. I don't care why you went to Blackwood. From the look of you I know you do not have what you want. As far as the earthen girl is concerned, she wants no Gaverian other than Jenne. I do not know what is happening in Blackwood, but I can make a safe bet that Jenne has a lot to do with it. Too bad you can’t have him.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You worry too much,” said Regilon. “I have no plans to leave this bed.”

  “Liar. Whatever it is you’re after, leave him out of it. Do not put his life on the line for your gains. Besides, he has no reason to save Blackwood. I would not let him save the village for your sake.” Tenrad stood and made for the door. “Let this be a warning to you, Spectre. Try to steal him away to the south and I will kill you.”

  Plain and simple. Tenrad was not lying.

  Reggie left the hospital soon after, saying goodbye to the gym equipment on his way out. It had been a good week of rest, but he had things to do. The mist outside hid him from public view. Most people today would not recognise him easily anyway, particularly without his Gaverian greens.

  An officer distracted by his mobile device did not hear Regilon call out to him multiple times. The officer snapped, annoyed by the constant disturbance. “What do you want?”

  “Open a portal to Camp Regis.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “According to the official report, Wiseman's goons raced from Henrik City onto the Bosten highway, through an unsupervised Ring. Do you know what Regis would have asked me to do if this had happened during his time? He would’ve said, ‘Reggie, round up all the officers manning the dashboards. What have we told them about leaving their posts? Incompetence spreads like a virus, so be thorough when you execute them all.’”

  The Green officer struck a salute. Sweat soaked his black leather gloves. “Sir, forgive me. I did not see you in the mist. I thought you were one of those wannabe journalists. They’ve been pestering me all day. They’ll all be like, ‘Take me to Regis. We want to see the earthen girl.’”

  “Good man.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll take you right away, Sir.” The soldier turned knobs and punched in codes on the dashboard. The Ring warmed instantly, opening the portal without delay.

  Camp Regis: a warm, clear island named after his father. How unbefitting. The Green officers on the other side rose to their feet, rifles at the ready. Their captain ordered them to lower their weapons when he recognised the red eyes. Regilon lifted a hand in greeting, but the stunned men remained still, watching him pass.

  Trying to sniff out the earthen girl was futile. Even an ascender with all senses intact would struggle with such a task. He followed the path through the short grass toward the largest structure on the island: the House of Sentry.

  The natives were enjoying themselves at the beach. Many sat in the sand, weaving coconut leaves into baskets, while children chased each other along the shore. On the calm Ossen Sea floated many things, among them the distant island, Schemel’s curse: the Midder-Lands. A dozen warships were approaching from the east, heading to port on the mainland. The Goldies were returning home after a long trip to the Grem Islands.

  Regilon arrived at the House of Sentry and did not bother stepping inside. Someone would provide the information he needed. By chance, a brother of a friend of some other friend was on his break and noticed Regilon strolling around the building. He told Regilon that Hanna was in a safehouse not far from the building, under the supervision of Erisa Zeal herself. It was almost cute how they believed Erisa alone could protect the earthen from Schemel. Regilon hoped Tenrad had been right, that Schemel was unbothered by Hanna’s accusation.

  At the safehouse, Regilon tried sniffing out Erisa’s magic to no avail. She, however, knew he had arrived. Erisa stepped out of the small house, arms folded, clad in full green armour with a holster carrying a gun among other items. She gave him a long look before stepping aside.

  Hanna had gained some weight and no longer resembled a stick drawing. She wore dull-coloured trousers and a shirt.

  A ruckus in the kitchen drew his attention. Not long after, a young boy crossed the living room, went behind a door, and returned with a spoon and fork. He passed a comment to Hanna before running off.

  They sat on the two couches behind the square TV, neither speaking. A girl emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray. She placed it before Regilon, added a bottle of water on the centre table, and hurried back to the kitchen.

  He caught Hanna with her mouth agape, staring at his skin. His clothing could not conceal all the markings. The soldiers remained disciplined, but Hanna was untrained. Faded triangles covered Regilon’s body—a warning of what awaited should he dare cast a spell. He had crossed his limits, and the gods were done with him. Tenrad would not have threatened him so boldly otherwise.

  “You’ve done a stupid thing,” he said. “I hope you know.”

  Hanna rooted herself in her seat, steadfast as stone. He shouldn’t try to reason with her. “I gave up my powers so you and I might survive. You’ve wasted my efforts.”

  “I didn’t follow you out of the south so I could live my life. I don’t care about my life. Ren Regal, you don’t have to worry about me. I knew what I was doing, and I’m prepared to take care of myself.”

  “Oh, you do not know what you are doing. Schemel is not normal.” He moved to the edge of his seat and beckoned her closer. There were things he did not want others to overhear. “There were a few dozen of us during our years at Se Fina. Schemy was the prettiest, but she was never the sharpest. Once, the priest asked her to give reasons why Sexton was impossible to invade. Schemel was frustrated, stuttering through her answer. There was this old man who used to clean the classrooms. He was mopping the corridors at the time, and he yelled, ‘Come on, Solis, even I know the answer to that one!’ We all laughed and thought nothing of it. He went missing for six days and was found hiding in Dormitia on the seventh. He had a hole burned through his tongue.”

  “Well, Renna Zeal says Jacqolin is coming,” Hanna rambled. “She won’t try anything if he’s around. They say she’s afraid of him.”

  “How can you have hope in someone you have not met yet?”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “We can’t get all that we want,” he said. He had no magic to defeat Tenrad. “You have no magic to fight the dragon for your princess.”

  “No. Jeromy will come.” She shook her head so hard it nearly tumbled off. “I will have to wait a bit longer.”

  “There’s no point in going back, Hanna.”

  “They’re not dead.”

  “How long has it been? What are the odds—”

  “They’re not dead!” She pushed him away and burst through the door. The girl from earlier ran into the living room, carrying a tray with a plate of rice. Regilon sighed, rising to follow.

  Erisa stood motionless on the porch, hands clasped behind her back, watching Hanna disappear.

  “Aren’t you going to chase after her?” Regilon asked.

  “I’ll wait until she returns,” Erisa said, wincing. “I’m not good at talking. She won’t listen to me.”

  Gentle winds swayed the fields, tossing his hair stubbornly into his face and making the stroll across the island less enjoyable than it should have been. The natives still enjoyed themselves on the beach. A few others spread white sheets on the grass to dry in the sun. He was a man who had brought trouble upon himself. What stopped him from living a simple life, finding peace?

  Hanna crouched at the foot of a hill, the very one where the giant Ring stood. She rubbed her eyes, her arm smeared with snot and tears, which she cleaned on the grass.

  “Leave me alone,” she mumbled.

  Regilon did not. He sat down beside her, eyes tracing the crystal sea.

  “Do you do this often? Run away when confronted?”

  “Sometimes,” she admitted.

  “I do it all the time,” he said. “God knows how much I have missed. So many blessings passed me by because I could not stand to take them for myself.”

  Hanna lifted her head for a quick look—and ended up unable to look away.

  “Can I ask a favour?” he said.

  “What do you want?”

  “Tell me everything you know about the faerie girl. What is she like?”

  “I don’t know much. Maselli knew Ezra the longest. They lived with her in secret.”

  “Ezra,” he repeated. He liked the name. “You spent some time with her, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Hanna admitted, frowning in thought. “She’s about my age, but feels younger and older at the same time. She giggles a lot, doesn’t take much too seriously, but she solves all our problems.”

  “She loves to laugh,” he noted. “I doubt she got that from my side of the family. Must be her mother’s side.”

  “Are you related?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” he said.

  “You have some resemblance,” Hanna observed. “Your hair… your neck. You both have long necks.”

  She spent the rest of the afternoon talking. Ezra had pale skin, because she’d never seen the sun, but she was sunny on the inside, always speaking of distant lands with gardens and butterflies. She loved the earthen woman and was often seen with her. Hanna spoke of magic. Ezra knew more about spells than anyone; she had a deeper understanding of ascension.

  “She has my good looks and Genevie’s mind. I couldn’t have asked for more.”

  “You can’t convince me that Ezra won’t survive with Maselli,” she said. “As long as one person lives in Blackwood, I won’t give up on them.”

  “You would give your life to get what you want?”

  “I like to think that’s what true love is.”

  “I don’t understand you,” he said.

  A honk in the distance shook birds from the trees. Far off at the port, a monstrous ship was about to dock. Billows of black smoke rolled into the heavens. The Last Alangre — the mother of all warships. Thousands cheered in unison; even from where they were, the screams were audible. Hanna gasped and leapt to her feet. “Jacqolin is here!”

  Regilon sniffed the air, taking in as much as he could until his lungs burned. Yes — faint, but there: Jacqolin’s minty scent. Strong enough for broken noses to detect. He wriggled his nose and sniffed again. Sweet. Rose-like. That did not belong to Jacqolin. Was there a Swayer on board the ship?

  He gasped and grabbed Hanna’s hand, dragging her up the hill. She screamed and pulled away. “We’re going to the Farm!” he snarled. “There are Bannermen smuggling children to Soden. Find one and run as far as you can!”

  “No, let go of me!” She wrenched her wrist free. “I’m not leaving without Jeromy!”

  “Hanna, listen to me!” Hands gripped her shoulders. He restrained the urge to shake the life out of her. “Stay and Schemel will kill you. You have to run.”

  Her golden-brown eyes were fixed and focused. She was not afraid. “Jeromy will come,” she said, then turned her back on him and ran. The old Gaverian stood with his hands held up, triangles carved into his skin. He could not fight Schemel and Tenrad like this. If he had a fraction of his power — just a fraction — this would not be a problem. “Hell,” he muttered.