From eighty-eight floors up, Alchymia resembled a circuit board. Dmitri Romanov stood near the floor-to-ceiling glass. Hands curled into fists behind his back, he watched the afternoon light catch on the Eye’s pinkish iris.

  “Ares Van Nassau,” he said to the double-glazed window. “Always watching, always judging, and somehow this is my reward.”

  His reward was a king bed under a celestial spotlight, tracked day and night by the colossal pupil. It was the Chief Minister’s way of threatening, “Hurry up. Or else.”

  “A million-dollar view indeed.”

  Professor Indigo Crane, the Council’s Head of Research, had been burning daylight over the knight’s genetic samples. A conclusion no one was surprised by had been reached: the Eye, Damien, and perhaps the purple smoke shared a source, interdimensional in origin, unknown to mankind.

  An opportunity.

  To protect their work, the Council had placed its bet on the knight and built a counterfeit world around him, one where the Eye did not exist. It had to remain intact. If he learned the truth and found a way home, this covert research could be exposed and collapse.

  Dmitri carried the bill for his own miscalculation. He had set out to destroy the Eye; instead he had pulled at something older and stronger than anyone expected and let it loose. Another stain on his leadership which Ares had exploited. Everyone knew he was grooming Adrian, his second eldest, for Dmitri’s chair. There was no room left for error.

  Dread filled Dmitri as the Eye’s gaze slid toward him. Unable to bear it any longer, he spun around and drove his fist down, splitting the heavy mahogany desk in half. His laptop skidded off with a stack of false sighting reports.

  “Damn you, Ares.”

  The office door suddenly burst open. Lukas Schmidt stumbled in, breathless.

  “Sir. We’ve got a situation.”

  “Report.”

  Lukas snatched the remote from the coffee table and turned on the holographic screen. After a few taps, he found the National News.

  “…near Blackwood’s latest residential development,” the anchor was saying. “We go live to our correspondent on the scene.”

  The feed jumped to a construction site. A bearded man in a stained vest leaned forward, slurring, his teeth almost clattering against the mic.

  “Yeah, mate, looked like some kinda purple chemical spill at first. Then it started swirling, whooshing round, like it was alive…”

  A few more eyewitness accounts followed, then the broadcast cut to a packed press conference.

  Thomas Blackwood stood at a podium, surrounded by aides and reporters.

  “Sir, what do you know about the creature sighting on your property?”

  “Is there any link to Tiffany’s missing friends?”

  “What’s your response to claims of a cover-up?”

  Blackwood raised a hand. “I’m investigating it myself. My daughter’s safety, and her friends’, comes first. This is not a time for rumours or point-scoring. This is a time for answers.”

  Lukas killed the broadcast. Dmitri eased back into his chair, the scar beneath his skin tightening.

  “Has he called the Council?”

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  “Yes, sir. Through his secretary. He wants field support.”

  "Well played. A public declaration of a personal investigation. Not a request for help, but an ultimatum. Now we’re on the record.” Dmitri tapped his chin. “What about the polls?”

  Lukas checked his phone. “His public image has taken a hit. Fringe forums are spinning wild theories. He’s even trending above the latest superhero release but official numbers haven’t updated yet.”

  “And the betting markets? They move faster.”

  “Lively, sir. Spikes every time he speaks. He’s the media’s favourite for the hour.”

  Dmitri steepled his fingers. “If the smoke creature is aligned with him, as Adrian insists, why the sudden chase, why the press? Unless he is playing a longer game... Lukas.”

  "Your orders, sir?"

  "Pull together a field team, and you’re going with them. Shadow Blackwood and report everything.” Dmitri's voice lowered. “Let’s hope this isn’t just smoke and mirrors.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Once Lukas had left, Dmitri collapsed into his leather chair and covered his face with his palms. From behind him, he could still feel it: the Eye.

  Watching.

  Always watching.

  Even St. Kelvin’s was no stranger to high-stakes negotiations. Here, it came in the form of emotional blackmail delivered with hugs.

  Eydis, Queen of Shadows, found herself ambushed. The culprits: Cleo and Anthony.

  "Oh sweetie!"

  They pulled her into a double embrace. Her fingers itched to fling them into the stratosphere. Or just muting them. Forever would be ideal.

  They wailed in unison, sending goosebumps crawling across her arms.

  Seriously, did someone announce her reincarnation?

  After what felt like several millennia, they finally let go—not before Cleo slapped her backside, the audacity, and muttered, “You haven’t come home for three years. We’ve missed you so much!”

  Of course she did. Static pulsed through Eydis’s fingers.

  ‘Deep breaths, Your Majesty. Remember the plan,’ Envy teased.

  ‘Woof, woof!’ Cerberus agreed.

  Anthony clapped his heavy calloused fingers on her shoulder. “We were worried about you skipping that doctor’s checkup. Glad you’re finally taking care of yourself.”

  Eydis sighed, ”Relax, work’s been intense lately. No time for anything else, unfortunately."

  If she made it back to her realm in one piece, her first order of business would be to obliterate those "gods" everyone kept worshipping. Perhaps she'd start with The Sacred Order of the Silver-Obsessed and Stoically Serious (a name she totally didn't just make up), then Damien, then the Sa—

  Something twisted in her chest.

  Eydis blinked, taken aback. Odd.

  Anyway, this Plan B was already shaping up to be a disaster. Which was precisely why it was a Plan B to begin with. And she needed to survive a four-hour car ride.

  With them.

  In traffic.

  ‘Oh mon Dieu!’ she groaned silently, channelling Colette.

  Why so long, you ask? Traffic—the bane of modern existence. St. Kevin’s wasn’t exactly on the other side of the planet from the city centre, but as you approached civilisation, that five-kilometre stretch could turn into a slow decay of the soul, accompanied by honks and inventive cursing.

  Or so Natalia had informed her.

  Cleo and Anthony lived in one of those concrete apartment clusters where most people do. Being a tradie, which translated to “construction worker,” Anthony was involved in the city’s never-ending roadwork projects. Cleo was an accountant who mainly “worked from home,” whatever that meant.

  Ever since that little "incident" with Tiffany (ah, memories), the Blackwoods had been paying for Eydis's medical checkups, hoping to avoid any legal unpleasantness. But since the girl was a minor, the charges, if any, would be the equivalent of a parking ticket.

  So, Cleo and Anthony reluctantly accepted their funding for Eydis's perpetually postponed checkups.

  You see, she was simply far too busy to waste her precious weekends in the city, as St. Kelvin’s was a veritable magnet for her Sins. But not anymore. The good news: she had a doctor’s note and a 1.5-day leave from school. The better news: she was going to crash the Alchymia gala herself since Theo had the nerve to play dumb.

  “There’s no one better than Dr. Le Bleu.” Anthony held the door open. “Your appointment’s at ten tomorrow. She isn't just any medical doctor."

  "But a Gifted doctor!" Cleo clapped her hands together, hopping into the front seat. "The school doctor is nothing compared to her. As much as I despise those Blackwoods, I have to admit they pulled some strings to get you the very best, sweetie.”

  Eydis smirked, looking down at her phone screen and scrolling through the impressive credentials of Dr. Melissa Le Bleu: Renowned, elite, and “gifted” with healing powers.

  Oh, I know.

  She had handpicked Melissa for this very reason. ‘You’re about to become my accomplice, Doctor,’ she thought.

  As their white electric car merged onto the freeway, Cleo shouted suddenly, "Ha! Classic!"

  When Eydis looked up from her phone and saw Cleo enthusiastically stabbing the dashboard touchscreen, her smile evaporated.

  The speakers exploded with the most cringe-inducing love song one could find... ever... in any realm.

  Eydis's internal eye roll was so powerful it zapped her two daydreaming Sins in her mindscape back to reality, unwilling participants in this auditory torture.

  ‘If only Sloth were here to teleport us,’ she thought grimly.

  “Your Majesty, I'm starting to think Plan B was the optimistic one. Any chance we can rewind and try Plan A again?’ Envy complained.

  ‘Arf,’ agreed Cerberus.

  Eydis pressed her fingers to her temples.

  This was going to be a long, looooong ride.