Eydis’s amber eyes flicked toward the skyline. She would never say it aloud, but she was… mildly impressed.

  After a three-hour drive through a never-ending rollercoaster of winding mountain roads, scored by Cleo’s off-key singing about lost loves (bold, considering Anthony was right there), they finally reached the outskirts of Alchymia City.

  Distance-wise, St. Kevin’s wasn’t far. It just happened to be buried behind the snow-draped Southern Alps. The secluded mountain ranges served as a strategic fortress for the Elites and the Gifted.

  A helicopter would have made the trip in forty minutes. But that was reserved for those with deep pockets. Eydis, with her decidedly not deep pockets, was at the mercy of Anthony's so-called “scenic-detour” route. It translated to every twisted road that could test her patience and her inner ear.

  Eventually, the peaceful countryside of weatherboard cottages and endless grass fields gave way to a view that even the Queen of Shadows couldn't deny was striking. A mess of mirrored towers cutting into the clouds, their tinted glass surfaces catching the last threads of daylight.

  Back home, her palace had been carved by master artisans. But in this world, most construction work was carried out by–

  "Check out that golden skyscraper, kiddo!" Anthony said, mercifully turning down the music. "Worked on it right after you left for St. Kevin’s. Thought those fancy 5D printers were gonna replace us, but turns out experience still counts for something.”

  Cleo muttered, “If you can even call that art. Everything’s made by machines now. Empty, soulless, feelingless, lifeless. We’re finished, Ant.”

  Eydis watched a sky train pass quietly overhead and absently said, “If automation’s such a threat, where’s the resulting chaos? Riots or uprisings? Everyone seems rather blissfully ignorant, despite…”

  She glanced up through the panorama glass roof, where The Eye continued to just exist. “...If machines have taken over, how is—Mom—still employed?”

  That earned a long silence.

  Cleo and Anthony exchanged a look. The oh-no-she’s-asking-real-questions kind.

  Before their conversation could continue, their sedan’s autopilot hit the brakes hard as a car suddenly cut left into their lane. Tightening one hand on the wheel, Anthony cursed under his breath and switched to manual.

  “These darn algorithms can’t be trusted.”

  Eydis didn’t pay much attention to it, mesmerised by the explosion of neon lights against the fading light.

  How artificial... yet oddly mesmerising. These humans in this world had truly touched the stars, their advanced technology twisting reality to their will.

  It made her wonder why the Gifted were still held in such high regard. Unless, of course, there was more to this world than met the eye.

  "You can't trust people," she said absently.

  Anthony beamed at her in the rearview mirror. “That’s my girl. Sharp as ever.”

  She continued watching the street. Dozens of people in suits hurried past, vanishing into the Metro like ants disappearing into the hive.

  Their car, on the other hand, moved only inches, stuck in the rush hour gridlock. Even so, she didn’t mind as there was so much for her to take in and analyse—movement, architecture, the metro system, the sky train network, and surrounding cars where drivers no longer needed to drive, relying entirely on algorithms.

  Until the giant billboard ahead flickered.

  Previously cycling through perfume ads and movie releases, it changed into breaking news. On the high-definition screen was live feed of Thomas Blackwood’s so-called shadow-hunting operation.

  Leaning back with a smile, she observed the mayhem her former Sin had stirred up.

  ‘So true to their nature. Just as predicted.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  ‘You were right, Your Majesty. How did you know?’ Envy slithered as it watched the feed through her eyes.

  ‘Logical thinking, my dear serpent. The Blackwoods are delicious, after all. So sinful… so…’

  ’Deliciously human,’ Envy hissed.

  Eydis smirked. Out of the corner of her eye, Cleo’s hand inched toward the touchscreen again. Eydis flicked a small spell. Cleo yelped and snatched her hand back.

  Or a petty monarch. Depending on perspective.

  Before Cleo could even complained, Anthony fumbled with the radio, switching it to the news channel broadcasting the billboard’s live feed.

  “Sir Thomas Blackwood has allowed reporters access during his joint mission with the International Vanguard Watchers, better known as the Council. Their lead operatives have joined him at the scene…”

  The Council? International? Now that’s intriguing.

  The footage shifted to show a small unit of suited figures. Then it zoomed in on Thomas himself, breathless and overly earnest.

  “We have wasted too much time already. The children's safety is paramount."

  The broadcast followed the group into a half-built construction site before an unexpected burst of energy obscured the video in a purple fog.

  “The smoke monster! It’s here!” someone shouted.

  The agents moved instantly—Fire, water, telekinesis. Their magic met the smoke in midair, bursts of light colliding with shadow.

  Eydis focused on the dark-skinned man in a grey suit in particular. He kept to the edges, analysing instead of reacting. When a tendril lunged for him, he raised a stone wall with ease, redirecting the strike.

  Meanwhile, Thomas bolted toward the rear of the site, ignoring the orders shouted at him. The camera struggled to keep up, finally catching him in a different section of the construction zone. The smoke monster abandoned the fight and surged after him.

  "Sir, hold your position! Do not engage!" The man in the grey suit barked.

  But Thomas was already too far gone. “I see them! The kids—they’re in there! Aaaggh!”

  His scream was devoured by the swirling vortex of purple smoke. The screen twisted, glitched, distorted.

  "Cease attack! Prioritise Sir Blackwood’s safety!” came the final command before the screen went black.

  Anthony and Cleo spoke at the same time. “What… just happened?”

  Eydis’s grin returned, fangs barely visible.

  ‘Envy, plan B just became very interesting. I think it’s time we met this Doctor Le Bleu.’

  ‘Indeed, Your Majesty. Indeed,’ Envy purred in agreement.

  Eydis pushed open the door to her bedroom and stopped dead. Her royal eyes, schooled in the refined minimalism of Mythshollow and lately dulled by the oatmeal monotony of St Kelvin’s dorms, recoiled.

  Pink. Wall to wall. Ceiling to floor.

  Metallics, pastels, bubblegum, flamingo—every shade imaginable crammed into one room. A full assault on the senses.

  She considered it a war crime against good taste.

  All right, “war crime” was a stretch, but “mildly nauseating” wasn’t far off.

  Still, exhaustion had caught up with her at last. After a car ride that seemed to outlast the lifespan of a star—scored by Cleo’s tone-deaf covers of every love song in existence—then a dinner in which Cleo’s hands and puppy-dog eyes seemed welded to her, Eydis was ready to raise the white flag.

  Did someone die? she wondered for the hundredth time.

  Before she could collapse into the overstuffed fuchsia pillow, there was work to do: investigating her teenage counterpart’s life. Who was she, beneath the pink layers and unreturned affections? What secrets did she keep?

  For all its agony, the drive hadn’t been a total waste. She’d collected useful data.

  Her so-called parents, for instance. They were harmless and hopelessly clueless. There were no malice, shadowy schemes or even a trace of Envy or Gluttony for her Sins to feed on. Just ordinary people living ordinary lives.

  Which made it all the stranger that their daughter knew anything about the Queen of Shadows.

  Eydis went through the room. Folded clothes, nothing hidden. Certificates for minor academic triumphs, no hidden notes behind the frames. A few physical books, childhood photos. In one, a much younger her laughed freely with child-like joy.

  She stared longer than she meant to.

  “At least you knew happiness,” she murmured.

  A tightness pulled at her ribs. Was this… envy? Absurd.

  “Indeed, it wa—”

  Zap. Mental silence. Much better.

  She went back to searching and eventually found something curious. In her palm lay a small, matte-black device, the size of an ID card but heavier. Unbranded, unlabelled.

  She pressed the single button on the side. Eight digits appeared on the screen. Another press, a different set replaced them.

  Her brows lifted.

  “Intriguing.”

  Envy, recovered enough to sulk, said, “What’s intriguing about it?”

  “Everything else here is functional. Predictable. This? This is an anomaly.”

  “Anomaly? It just gives you random numbers.”

  Eydis chuckled, slipping the device into her bag. “Envy, we both know randomness is a matter of perspective. It doesn’t belong, and perhaps it’s the key to accessing that Obsidian Legion Adam mentioned.”

  She’d looked into them the moment she heard the name. With Birgit’s superior tech skills doing most of the lifting, it hadn’t taken long to uncover the truth.

  The Obsidian Legion was a secret society of notorious hackers whose mission was to expose corruption within the untouchable—governments, megacorporations, old money, and ancient bloodlines.

  They claimed not to be black hats, that their motives were noble, but Eydis had seen the logs.

  “Blackmail, extortion, criminals…” she whispered, and felt her pulse quicken. “Oh, my dear doppelg?nger. You’re getting more interesting by the hour.”

  One forum thread claimed that access required three things: a username, a password, and a rotating encryption key. Much like the device in her bag.

  A better question was why the encryption key was here. The girl hadn’t lived at home in three years, yet she had remained an active member.

  Eydis sat on the edge of the bed, a grin curling her lips.

  “This is where it gets truly interesting.”