The lower districts of Solara weren't meant to be seen from street level. They were designed to be admired from above—from the gilded balconies of the upper rings where divine champions and nobility could look down upon the graceful arches and geometric patterns that formed perfect sunburst designs when viewed from their privileged heights.

  At ground level, where Elian now moved through narrow, winding alleys, the architecture lost its celestial harmony. Shadows pooled in corners never touched by the sun, and the golden facades revealed themselves as cheap gilt that flaked away to expose crumbling stone. Five years of imprisonment had changed the city—or perhaps he simply hadn't noticed its decay before.

  Elian kept his stolen prison cloak pulled tight around him despite the warm evening. The burns on his chest from the failed vessel's attack had already healed—another unexpected benefit of the stolen divine gift. He flexed his fingers, watching tiny flames dance across his knuckles before extinguishing them with a thought. The power was weak but responsive, like a well-trained hound eager to please its new master.

  A bell tolled across the city—the evening cleansing ritual. Citizens around him immediately dropped to their knees, faces turned upward toward the Solaran Spire where the High Priestess would be channeling the Sun God's light across the city. Elian reluctantly knelt, keeping his head down. Being conspicuous now would be suicidal.

  "Praise the Radiant One, who cleanses our impurities," the citizens chanted.

  "Praise the Radiant One, who burns away our sins," Elian muttered, the words bitter on his tongue.

  Golden light swept through the streets, washing over the kneeling citizens. When it touched Elian, he felt a strange resistance within himself, as if the stolen fire gift was recoiling from its divine source. Interesting. He filed the observation away for later analysis.

  As the light faded and people returned to their evening activities, Elian continued toward the city gates. He needed to be beyond Solaran territory by morning, when they would surely discover his absence from the Black Spire.

  "You didn't mean it," came a soft voice from his left.

  Elian turned sharply. A woman leaned against a wall in simple merchant's clothing, her dark hair pulled back in a practical braid. Nothing remarkable about her appearance, except for the calculating look in her eyes as she studied him.

  "Pardon?" he asked, ready to run if necessary.

  "The prayer. You said the words, but there was no reverence." She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "A trait common to those who've spent time in the Black Spire."

  Elian tensed. "You're mistaken."

  "Am I?" She raised an eyebrow. "The guards are searching for an escaped prisoner—a dangerous blasphemer who attacked Captain Thorne himself. They've closed the main gates."

  Elian's hopes sank. Without a way out of the city, he'd be caught by morning. He glanced at the woman, weighing his options. "And you're telling me this because...?"

  "Because I need someone who hates the Solaran clerics as much as I do," she replied simply. "My name is Mira. I run supplies for the Shadow Guild."

  The Shadow Guild—Umbral's notorious network of spies and smugglers. Rumors of their activities had reached even the isolated cells of the Black Spire.

  "I'm not interested in trading one master for another," Elian said.

  Mira laughed, the sound surprisingly genuine. "Smart. Trust should be earned. But right now, you need a way out of Solara, and I need a diversion to move certain goods past the guards. Temporary allies?"

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Elian considered his options, which were admittedly few. "What kind of diversion?"

  "Nothing complicated. A fire at the guardhouse would draw enough attention."

  Fire. She couldn't know about his stolen gift—could she? "Why would you think I could help with that?"

  Mira shrugged. "Prison breeds resourcefulness. Besides, I've seen the way you keep flexing your hands—like you're getting used to something new."

  Before Elian could respond, shouts erupted from the street's end. A patrol of Divine Guards rounded the corner, led by a man whose armor gleamed not with standard Solaran gold but with a pulsing blue-white light.

  "Down!" Mira hissed, pulling Elian into a recessed doorway.

  The patrol marched past their hiding spot, close enough that Elian could hear their conversation.

  "—waste of my talents," the blue-armored man was saying. "I am a Crystaline Truthseer, not some common bounty hunter."

  "Lord Casius, the High Priestess insisted we accept Crystal Dominion's assistance," a gold-armored guard replied. "This prisoner possesses knowledge dangerous to all divine houses."

  Elian's breath caught. A Truthseer—one of Crystal Dominion's mind-reading champions—could detect his presence through thoughts alone. He desperately tried to empty his mind as the patrol passed.

  The Truthseer paused, his helmet turning slightly toward their hiding place. "Something..."

  Mira squeezed Elian's arm in warning, then stepped out into the street. "My lords! Praise the Radiant One for sending you! I saw a man running toward the eastern district—thin, with prison clothes beneath his cloak!"

  The Truthseer approached Mira, studying her. "Your thoughts are... remarkably clear, citizen."

  She bowed deeply. "My father served in the temple, my lord. We were taught mental disciplines to better receive the Sun God's light."

  The Truthseer seemed satisfied with this explanation—or perhaps merely annoyed at being assigned to this task. "Eastern district, you say? Very well. Continue your devotions, citizen."

  As the patrol hurried eastward, Mira returned to the doorway. "We have minutes at most before he realizes I lied. The Truthseers can't read minds as well as they claim, but they can sense deception if they focus."

  "Why help me?" Elian asked, genuinely curious. "You don't know who I am."

  "I know enough. The Black Spire only holds two types of prisoners—those who've offended the gods, and those who've threatened the divine houses. Either way, we share enemies." She gestured for him to follow. "There's a smuggler's tunnel beneath the tanner's district. Used during the last divine war."

  As they navigated the labyrinthine streets, Elian studied his unexpected ally. "The Shadow Guild works for Umbral's interests. Why help someone escape Solara only to deliver them to another divine house?"

  Mira gave him a sideways glance. "Perceptive. The Guild serves Umbral's shadow nobility officially, but our true masters are... broader minded. Some believe the gods' hold on the seven kingdoms needs loosening."

  They reached a decrepit tannery, its stench providing perfect cover from patrols. Mira led him through the abandoned building to a trapdoor hidden beneath rotting hides.

  "This leads beyond the western walls," she explained, lifting the heavy door. "From there, head north toward the borderlands. Avoid main roads."

  Elian hesitated at the tunnel entrance. "What do you want in return? People rarely offer help without expecting payment."

  "Information," she replied. "What exactly were you imprisoned for?"

  Elian considered lying, but something told him this woman would be valuable in the days ahead. "I suggested divine gifts weren't blessings but transferable powers. The clerics found this... blasphemous."

  Mira's eyes widened slightly—the first genuine surprise he'd seen from her. "And are they? Transferable?"

  Elian allowed a small flame to dance across his palm, watching her reaction carefully.

  "Interesting," she whispered, showing neither fear nor disgust, only intense curiosity. "The Guild will definitely want to speak with you again, Scholar."

  Distant shouting suggested the Truthseer had discovered Mira's deception. She pushed a small wrapped package into his hands.

  "Clothes, food, a map. Head for Crossroads Inn at the northern border. Ask for Lena." She gave him a knowing smile. "And if you're truly what I think you are, stay away from divine champions until you're stronger. That gift you have? It's barely a candle compared to the infernos you'll face."

  As Elian descended into the darkness of the tunnel, the package clutched against his chest, he wondered if he'd made an ally or simply postponed confrontation with a different enemy. Either way, the Shadow Guild now knew of his existence—and his ability.

  The tunnel air was cool against his skin as he ignited a small flame in his palm to light the way. For the first time in five years, Elian Drave was truly free, with the first piece of evidence supporting his forbidden theory.

  And somewhere in the seven kingdoms, divine champions with far greater gifts were waiting, unaware that their powers were no longer permanently theirs to command.