"Am I weak?" Regilon asked the ocean, his old friend. "Would you call me a coward?"

  The ocean replied with a thunderous roar. "You have battled and defeated more ascenders than anyone. Do not be modest. You are powerful, you are mighty, you are the most fearsome fighter Henrikia has ever seen. Death has no truer servant than Regilon Regal."

  "People say I won the Great Oppression for the Gold Army."

  "You did not win for the Gold Army. You were the Gold Army. You are the Blood Storm of Ossen, the Stain on Hessen, the Ravage in Messen, the Pit of Hell."

  "Hessen?" Regilon frowned. "I do not remember Hessen."

  "I do. I remember everything. Captain Gilgas lost a battle in Ghalandron. He and the Black Army retreated, but your troops split and surrounded him near the Hessen River. You closed in, and Gilgas grew desperate. He turned into an animal and launched an attack unlike any before."

  "Gilgas was a crafter of stone, but on that day, he crafted mountains."

  "He crushed your men by the hundreds, grinding bones and flesh into pulp. You broke through with wind and flame, slicing his craft apart. You buried Gilgas beneath his mountains. Then came the fire. You burned him through and through until the stones melted to water. Gilgas screamed still, trapped in the shell of his own creation."

  "I remember... the ring of fire. The Black Army could not escape. Five hundred earthen men, murdered by my hands. I tossed their bodies into the river. The canal was choked with corpses, the waters stained red."

  "Helios Deus was a powerful marker, nearly as strong as his brother Demettle. Elusive, too, sneaking earthens through tunnels to Sexton. Regis heard of his betrayal and sent you to question him. Helios trapped you in a time spell and fled."

  "It should have lasted three days, but I broke free in one. I tracked him to Khebarthi and found the tunnels. He froze me in time, so I froze his tunnels. Ice speared from the walls, impaling everyone who walked within them. Helios died. So did his wife and children. And a hundred other earthmen."

  "You fought Piola on the Ossen Sea. In her own domain, you fought and won. You summoned winds to sink her fleet. You froze the waters surface and set her aflame below it. Piola pounded at the ice as she burned and drowned together with her men."

  "The traitor Issar Arson led a revolution in Dormitia. A lightning crafter, the fastest ascender alive. You seized him by the throat mid-sprint and boiled his blood. Bringer of Fire Blood!"

  "You, Regilon Regal, soared above Dormitia and sent pillars of fire billowing across the night sky. You deafened yourself to the cries of thousands beneath you. Was that not the day you became the Blood Storm?"

  Steam poured from Regilon’s nostrils, veiling the beach he stood on in mist. The evening grew cold. Each time he tried to leave, a senseless thought plagued him, and he returned.

  "Cold feet?" came a voice. These days, avoiding this woman was impossible. Schemel emerged from the mist and stood beside him. She shuddered, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. Together, they watched the tides crash against the shore.

  "Will you return?" she asked.

  "I do not know."

  "Sodenite forces are camped outside Donna Maria. The town has been evacuated. Still no sign of Genevie or her allies. A firefly is ready to take you."

  They sat together in the back of her SUV, closer than necessary. She clutched his arm with both hands. Neither spoke as the car rattled down the road. At last, they reached an airstrip on the edge of Henrikia. A firefly hovered, its rotors spinning dust into a storm. Regilon raised an arm against the wind as he approached the ramp. Soldiers waved him over.

  "Reggie!" Schemel ran through the gale and embraced him from behind, pressing her head to his back. She had embraced him this way once before—until Genevie tore her away, hurled her into the grass, and beat her down with brutal, swift strikes. A warning never to touch her betrothed again.

  The firefly carried him swiftly across the plains of the UCL. There was little to see. Hours slipped by until Soden rose over the midnight horizon. With a steady hum, the craft skimmed over the city before banking east towards the Cauldron Sea.

  Donna Maria was unknown to him. Its landscape resembled other Sodenite towns—narrow streets, muddy roads, clustered houses—though it was poorer still. A few landmarks stood out, among them a church-like building with no bell tower, no statues of the Six.

  The firefly descended. Warm air rushed in as the doors opened. He lingered in his seat. Anyone heading to face Genevie had the right to take their time. Crunching boots closed in. Sodenite forces surrounded the aircraft. Their uniforms were black with gold seams. Firearms strapped across their backs. Young men, all half his age. Venom blazed in their eyes. No love for Regilon Regal. To them he was not a hero, but the Blood Storm, the genocide enthusiast, the wildfire that devoured family trees.

  He shook the commander’s hand first, and they saluted one another. From there, he joined them in a vehicle, riding through the empty city towards the hotel where Genevie was hiding. Regilon sniffed the air, his eyes scanning every window they passed. The driver slowed whenever he grunted, but Regilon would murmur, "Step," and the car rolled on. The pounding hearts around him distracted him. These men were supposed to be brave, yet their fear echoed through their bodies. After a while, he realised he was no different. His heart, his breath, his wide pupils — everything about him was unsteady.

  Then came the scent he had been searching for. The waxy fragrance he had caught in Blackwood once before. He turned to the lonely hotel at the end of the street. Military vehicles closed in, forming a perimeter. Artillery was primed. Regilon strode past the blockade and entered the compound. The commander barked orders, and a team advanced past him. Two soldiers pulled devices from their belts, checked the numbers on their screens, and nodded. At their signal, they rammed the main door down.

  An empty lobby awaited. Soldiers split into smaller squads. Some rushed up the stairs while others stormed the doors and hallways of the ground floor. Regilon sniffed again and followed the team heading upstairs. The soldiers relied on their machines to detect ascension, but he doubted their accuracy. His own sense was sharper. The closer he drew to the scent, the quicker his stride became. Passing a window, he glanced down at the soldiers waiting outside.

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  The smell overwhelmed him. He held his breath, forcing himself to endure it. English commands drifted down the corridor. Four soldiers clustered outside a room. "Stand back," Regilon ordered in English. They exchanged wary looks. One man opened the door. Nothing happened.

  Two empty beds faced a television across the room. A small window was open. Behind it stood a desk, and on the desk, a book. One soldier approached, device in hand, entranced by it. He reached out.

  Regilon roared as a surge of ripper magic surged. The shockwave threw them back. The soldier dropped his device and reached for it. A black, hairy arm shot from the book, seizing him by the hair. It lifted him high. Another hand clamped around his throat. Screams filled the room. Gunfire rang out. None of it mattered. The monster tore the soldier in half.

  From the book clawed its way a beast. Painted black, hairy, with the torso of a muscle-bound man. It wore a tuxedo over its upper body, yet its hind legs were those of a hound. Blood dripped from its twitching claws. White eyes glared at the soldiers. It opened its maw and bellowed: "BLOOD OF FIRE!"

  Regilon froze. The memory struck him. He had been here before, at the beginning of the end. Fear took hold. This was no monster. "Markus," he whispered, trembling, tears welling in his eyes. He backed away, shaking his head in disbelief.

  "We meet again," the beast snarled.

  The soldiers rallied and attacked. Markus lunged, crushing one man’s head in his hand. He pounced on another, his claws punching clean through the soldier’s torso. He slammed him to the floor, drove his fingers into the chest, and ripped out his heart, squeezing it to pulp. The last man faltered, pleading for mercy. Markus showed none. He leapt, crunched the soldier’s skull in his jaws, and tossed the body aside. Then he turned, stalking forward.

  Paralysed, Regilon watched the monster charge. Reggie, this is how you die. Markus seized him by the throat. Regilon fell limp. The beast smashed him against the concrete wall, pounding his body and neck until the wall broke apart. They crashed through into a hallway. Regilon scrambled backwards, kicking at the floor as the towering beast closed in on him. He coughed blood into his palms, fear cutting to the bone. The walls closed in. The world warped. Markus roared and lunged again.

  Wiping blood from his brow, Regilon smeared it on the walls, fingers scrawling frantic shapes. Two triangles blazed red as he slapped his palms against them.

  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

  The blast hurled them through railings, tumbling down with rubble as the hotel collapsed around them. They crashed onto the last floor in a storm of dust and broken stone. Light speared through the wreckage.

  Markus stood above him, coat streaked with cement, a gash bleeding at his brow. The beast thrust down its claws. Regilon caught one hand, then the other, straining against its strength. Seconds passed, power surging through him. With a roar, he launched himself back, forcing distance.

  He clapped his hands together. His eyes burned red. Winds screamed from behind him, blasting Markus off his feet. The beast smashed through the lobby doors, a gale tearing it across the street. A Markus-shaped hole in the wood.

  But Markus rose again, soldiers swarming him. They tried to do what the first squad had failed to, and it infuriated him. He darted from one end of the street to the other, tearing men apart. Guns rattled, but their bullets only stung.

  "BLOOD OF FIRE!" he bellowed, shattering a soldier’s jaw.

  He dragged two men by their skulls, scraping them across the cobblestones until nothing remained but bone. Another turned to flee. Markus caught him, drove claws into his back, and ripped out his spine.

  Regilon steeled himself. No monster was greater than him. Nothing could be more terrifying than the Blood Storm. Fire rolled from him in blazing folds, reflected in Markus’s blood-thirsty eyes. The beast grinned, dropped its victim, and charged.

  Regilon surged forward, spinning blades of flame. They cut into Markus’s torso. He stomped through the beast’s chest, fire spreading in a blaze of red. Regilon struck, crafting chains of fire and snapping them around the beast’s arm. He yanked Markus forward and raised an ice blade, hurling it at his skull. The dagger struck, cracking across his brow.

  Markus retaliated with brutal force, ramming his head into Regilon’s. The crafter reeled. Without pause, the beast seized him, slamming him against a window. With a savage knee, Markus drove jagged bone deep into Regilon’s belly. Blood gushed, red and raw.

  "Reggie," the beast growled. "What do you see?"

  "An unkillable bastard," the Gaverian snarled.

  "That’s not very nice, Reggie."

  "I wasn’t talking about you."

  The window shattered. Markus lost his grip, and Regilon slipped free. The winds carried him off, though he knew the beast followed close behind. He landed on a rooftop, but Markus crashed through after him, shoving aside plates of roofing with his weight. Regilon spun away—not far enough. The beast’s claws raked across his chest, tearing into flesh and bone. Regilon snapped his fingers, setting himself ablaze. Burned, Markus recoiled, and Regilon shot north, leaving a blazing trail in the sky.

  The building below caught fire. Gas cylinders exploded. Regilon slammed against a chimney, gasping for air as his flames flickered out. He dabbed at the wound with a trembling hand. A rush of wind struck. Looking up, he saw Markus crashing down. Regilon rolled aside as the beast smashed through the roof. Sparks flew as he dashed southwest towards the church-like building. Flames leapt in his wake, windows shattering from the force.

  Markus gave chase, bounding from rooftop to rooftop. Regilon made a final leap towards the church, but Markus snatched him mid-air and slammed him down. Regilon conjured an ice blade, slashing the beast’s face. With a desperate stomp, he hurled Markus back and staggered free, fleeing southeast towards the hotel.

  Symbols flickered on his skin, pale and fading. He was nearly spent. If he kept going, he would die. Yet he pressed on, burning everything in his path. He landed hard in the hotel compound — only to meet Markus’s hammering blow once more. Regilon roared, blasting himself free and tearing through buildings until he collapsed in the middle of an empty street. He spat blood and fire, forcing himself upright. Flames roared around him, red and crackling.

  Markus landed nearby, tuxedo in tatters, his scarred body gleaming. He flexed his claws. Regilon smirked, crunching his fist. A circle of fire burned into the dry ground around Markus. The beast paused, watching.

  "Blood of Fire, it takes more than that to beat me," Markus mocked. "No more running. Let’s end this."

  Ancient symbols crawled up Regilon’s arms. His glowing red eyes flickered. He needed astaphite to complete the spell, but he was willing to pay the price. This beast had cost him everything — his wife, his son. If this was the test Genevie had set, then he would die proving his worth.

  He wiped blood from his nose and clapped his hands. Ice columns burst from the ground, circling Markus. Chains lashed out, binding the beast where he stood. Markus made no effort to resist. He did not want to resist. Chains would mean nothing — or so he thought.

  Regilon pressed his hand to the ground. A great wind hurled him into the sky. From above he saw it: the flaming triangle scorched into the town below. Colossal, drawn by God’s own finger.

  Markus looked up at the flying ascender and wrenched a chain free from the pillar. He braced to launch himself into the air when the crafter’s triangle flared. A tower of fire erupted, scouring the clouds from the night sky.

  Regilon landed on the roof of the church-like building, and even there the heat scorched his face. The roaring flame drowned everything — even Markus’s screams. Nothing matched its reach. Donna Maria burned.

  When at last the fire died, the result was certain. Anyone or anything within the triangle was gone. Markus’s charred body lay fused to the blackened street. The beast was dead.

  Regilon did not move. Symbols still crawled across his body. There was no clean air in the flaming haze. He sat on the rooftop with his knees drawn up, letting the sea breeze wash against him. Amid the stench of blood, ash, burning circuits and melting plastic, another smell reached him. Wax.

  From a distance, giant lizards stalked the rooftops. Dark as the night, their eyes glowed white. Two riders sat on their backs, heading north unopposed. The Sodenite forces stood by in silence, watching.