Between the folds of reality, the Obsidian Dreadnought remained stationary, waiting for the proper opportunity to strike. Lord Xerath moved through the ship’s levels with a confident gait. Passengers existed on multiple levels, all refugees from different worlds. His hands were clasped behind his back as he entered the mess hall, observing the variety of different beings all joined together. Conversation filled the room to an almost deafening level, and that made Xerath smile.

  A plate of food hit the ground right in front of Xerath’s feet. The gruel-like substance splashed on his pristine boots. Xerath looked around for the source of it and saw a young boy with green skin arguing with his father.

  “I’m tired of this shit!” screamed the boy.

  “Lower your voice!” his father hissed, and then looked up at Xerath with large, red eyes. The father bowed his head. “I’m sorry for the disturbance, Lord Xerath.”

  Xerath approached the table where the boy and his father sat. The rest of the people seated around them got up and moved away. The boy turned his head toward Xerath and narrowed his oval-shaped eyes. He blinked, the lids sliding horizontally.

  “What’s your name?” asked Xerath.

  “What do you care?”

  “Enough!” the father growled in a hushed voice. He looked at Xerath and bowed, this time speaking in a normal tone. “His name is Andirs, my Lord. I can’t apologize enough for his behavior. He’s just—”

  Xerath held up a hand to silence the father, keeping his attention on Andirs.

  “You’re frustrated, yes?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” asked Andirs. “Spending all day on this stupid boat, nowhere to go, nothing to do. And the only thing to eat is this—this fucking slop.”

  “You can’t speak to Lord Xerath that way!” shouted his father, reaching over the table and grabbing Andirs by the collar of his raggedy shirt.

  Lord Xerath held out his hand. The runes on his bald head began glowing as his eyes burned like melting gold. The father’s hand pried itself away from the boy’s shirt, and the father was forced back to his seat by Xerath’s power.

  “There will be no violence against any under my protection,” he said. “That was part of the terms you agreed to when you boarded, was it not?”

  The father’s eyes sunk and he nodded, appearing even smaller than before. But Andirs still looked at Xerath with a hint of youthful reticence.

  “You think you’re some kinda god or something?” he asked.

  Xerath chuckled. “You have fire in your belly, Andirs. Nurture it. In the future, it will serve you well. Just as mine served me. But until that day, mind your father and understand that all of us must make sacrifices for the time being. Should our plans succeed, you’ll soon have a far greater selection of food.”

  “And when’s that gonna be?” asked Andirs.

  “I can’t answer, but we’re moving in the right direction,” said Xerath. “Until then, patience.”

  “Forgive the intrusion, Lord Xerath.”

  A high-pitched, almost lyrical voice he recognized as belonging to Draven. Xerath turned and the skeletal man approached, slightly hunched over.

  “We have word on the Shadowblade,” said Draven.

  Xerath nodded and glanced back at Andirs. “Remember what I said, young one.”

  Andirs remained silent as Xerath left, walking alongside Draven. Once the pair left the cafeteria behind, Draven directed Xerath toward an elevator. Inside, he spoke frankly.

  “Why must we have such rabble onboard?” asked the strange man. “Without the resources needed to sustain their lives, our plan could have already been put into motion.”

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  “The Obsidian Dreadnought is full of victims, Draven. All of us have an equal stake in this mission,” said Xerath.

  Draven tightened his lips. “Perhaps if we were training them as soldiers…”

  The runes on Xerath’s head pulsed and Draven was thrown up against the elevator wall. Xerath calmly turned to face Draven as the mage struggled against his psychokinetic grip.

  “We have the Menagerie, that’s all the force we need to overcome our enemies,” said Xerath. “I’ll burn through every one of those creatures and stand on the front lines myself. But what I will absolutely not do is turn these broken and desperate people into fodder for a war machine. We are not Quantum, Draven, and you’d best remember that.”

  The runes powered down and Draven fell to the elevator floor. Xerath offered a hand. Draven accepted it and allowed his leader to help him stand.

  “Do we have an understanding?”

  Draven drew in shallow breaths and nodded. “Yes, Lord Xerath.”

  “Good,” said Xerath. “Then I trust this is a conversation we won’t have to have again.”

  The doors opened, revealing the Obsidian Dreadnought’s bridge. Xerath stepped out first, moving from the elevator up to the command deck. Technicians operated the ship’s machinery, supervised by Malakai. The third and final of Xerath’s lieutenants cut a massive figure.

  “You’ve heard from Sylva?” asked Xerath as he approached Malakai.

  “Yes, we’ve recorded a psychic beacon from her. It contains a message,” said Malakai.

  “Play it.”

  Malakai signaled to one of the technicians. A holographic projection of Sylva appeared before them, sitting cross-legged in a meditative pose. Though her mouth was closed, her voice could be heard.

  “I have been taken prisoner by the enemy. Thus far, they have not attempted to extract any information from me. Only one of their minions has spoken to me, but his attempts at questioning were laughably insignificant. The first phase of the plan is complete and I am in place. I await the signal for the next phase. For the Obsidian Dreadnought.”

  The image vanished at that statement. Xerath smiled at the message. Everything was going according to plan. He turned to Draven. “And the crystal?”

  “The Nexus Shard is connected to it,” said Draven. “It will work, provided Sylva can complete her assignment.”

  “She will. Sylva became the Shadowblade for precisely this moment.” Xerath turned his attention to his larger lieutenant. “Malakai, I want you to go down to the Menagerie. Select something that will provide enough of a distraction. We need Quantum’s attack dogs and their mechanical monstrosities drawn away from the group’s base.”

  “Understood, Lord Xerath. For the Obsidian Dreadnought.” Malakai touched his fist to his breast and bowed. He tossed an expression in Draven’s direction before venturing to the elevator.

  Neither Malakai nor Sylva were enamored of the strange advisor. Xerath had freed both of them from the clutches of the Quantum Group. Both had been forced into a life of slavery—for Sylva, it was the mines. And Malakai had been a gladiator, fighting for his life against fellow prisoners to provide the Overseers with entertainment.

  Draven, on the other hand, had never experienced the same kind of horrors the three of them had. Xerath had found him after years of searching for a way to navigate the Spire. Draven described himself as the Dimensional Arcanist and claimed to have discovered the secrets of the Quantum Group. So far, he had proven himself correct. It was because of Draven that they were able to locate the Nexus Shard. But Draven wasn’t a believer in their cause. He had his own reasons for joining Lord Xerath’s cause. What those reasons were, he remained tight-lipped about.

  Xerath knew Draven couldn’t quite be trusted. The mysteries around the Dimensional Arcanist troubled him, but he also knew he had no choice. Without Draven by his side. he never would have come this far.

  “Are you certain a confrontation with the Quantum Group is wise?” asked Draven. “They’ve proven a formidable force all across the Spire. With the Nexus Shard, there’s so much more we could accomplish.”

  “There is nothing else worth accomplishing. My entire life has been dedicated to the destruction of the Quantum Group,” said Xerath. “They took everything from me, Draven. Honor demands I claim vengeance.”

  “Vengeance won’t bring them back.”

  Xerath closed his eyes. The memory of tiny bodies consumed in fire pushed itself to the fore of his conscious mind. He could even smell the burnt flesh. Those images fueled his hatred and drove him to push forward.

  “No, it won’t. But it will end their threat once and for all,” said Xerath. “And once the Quantum Group and their world are destroyed, we can build a new world on the ashes. We can use their resources to create a utopia, just as they promised us they would do.”

  “Perhaps it’s too soon to strike,” said Draven. “If you won’t use the refugees as cannon fodder, then wouldn’t it be best to expand the Menagerie?”

  “The Menagerie has enough beasts for our purposes. Sylva is in place. We’ve all waited long enough,” said Xerath. “The time is now.”

  “As you wish,” said Draven with a slight bow. “I will ensure the Nexus Shard is ready to make contact once Sylva completes her mission. Should you need me, I’ll be in the Nexus Chamber below preparing.”

  As Draven turned to leave, Xerath called after him. “For the Obsidian Dreadnought, Lord Draven.”

  Draven paused and then said somewhat unenthusiastically, “Yes. For the Obsidian Dreadnought.”

  Xerath took his seat on the command deck. He activated the controls on his armrests, bringing up holographic displays of the Obsidian Dreadnought’s readings. All appeared to be in order. Soon, he would have his vengeance.

  The time to strike drew nigh.