Noah had Stepped out in a sudden panic not more than five minutes ago, leaving Zach alone in their apartment, surrounded by the silent aftermath of the fight they’d had with the Dorsi. And still, Zach couldn’t tear his eyes away from the corpse.

  He sat quietly.

  They’d laid the man on his back, his hands draped carefully across his chest in respect. Not knowing what else to do, Zach started counting the ridges on the man’s face again and again. The lowest number he arrived at was eighty, the highest, ninety-six.

  Still, he counted on, trying to burn the man’s face into his memory. Trying to comprehend the fact that he’d actually killed someone. But there was nothing. Nothing but that disturbing acceptance of murder.

  Eventually, his eyes moved to the man’s chest, to the ruin he’d left there. It didn’t seem right that blood didn’t flow out with the fist-sized wound marring his chest. How quickly the body accepts death.

  For what must’ve been the fifth or sixth time, Zach reached over with his right hand, pressing two fingers against the side of the man’s neck. No pulse. His temperature was already dropping. That unsettling coldness—

  He jerked his hand away, studying his knuckles.

  The wounds had been deep; long shards of broken rib cage stabbing muscle. But now, looking at the wounds, he could feel them healing from within. The wounds were still open, but the tissue underneath had already closed.

  With his left hand, he pressed his forefinger into one of the wounds, doing his best to pry it open, to make it bleed. But where it should’ve reopened at the stimulation, nothing came out. Instead, it felt like he was playing with loose flaps of skin and not a wound.

  He shook his head.

  His eyes went back to the man’s caved-in chest. Something about the way the blood had seeped into his clothes, about the way he lay there, scratched at his mind. He frowned. It triggered a strange memory.

  He could make out vague details. A room, almost as dark as this one now was, a table, blood pooling through fabric—was the fabric white? It was strange because he could almost recall remembering it before, but now there was just a vague impression.

  A loud pop sounded in his ears, the air in the room pushing outward as Noah Stepped back in, but the pain was gone before he even registered it had been there at all. Zach looked up quietly, watching him without remark.

  “I was studying the patrols, the one on the edge of the camp’s borders,” he said, looking around the room. “We have to go now. It takes them five minutes to return to that spot.”

  Zach nodded.

  As he got up, he noticed for the first time how dark it had gotten. There wasn’t a trace of sunlight left. Had that much time really passed? He walked over to the body and stood ready. Noah didn’t move.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, a touch of concern in his voice.

  “What do you mean?” Zach asked.

  Noah sighed softly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never traveled with dead weight before. Not his size. And not as far as the borders. I can’t do this myself,” he said.

  Zach flinched at the level of concern and apology shaping those words.

  “I’m fine,” he said immediately. “I can do this. Let’s go.”

  Noah looked as though he had more to say, but decided not to. He reached down for the man’s shoulders, Zach going for the man’s feet. The body felt unnaturally heavy, like moving stone. How was it that a body felt heavier without a soul inhabiting it?

  Noah looked up at the window, raising his right hand. He made the same gesture he’d made back in the hold, and when he cocked his thumb, they went lurching through the air.

  Distance distorted, the apartment building, all the other buildings surrounding it, tilted and leaned away from them as distance and space became alien concepts.

  Had this happened the last time?

  Within the blink of an eye, they were standing in an endless open plain covered in a thin layer of snow. Noah stumbled a bit, falling to one knee as he breathed rapidly. Zach’s gaze went up to the surrounding mountains fanning out around them in impossible concentric rings.

  The mountain tops all had sharp, curved spires jutting forward, creating stone canopies like tree coverage in a forest. Zach stared openly, his mouth hanging agape at the sheer impossibility of it. It didn’t feel real. Surely something of this scale couldn’t be real.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Somewhere just past our eastern borders,” Noah said, his breathing gradually easing. “We’re still in Tettralis. The camp’s that way.”

  He pointed westward.

  “I Stepped farther than I wanted to,” Noah continued. “I’ve never jumped with a corpse before. I was right to worry. His weight threw me off. So more weight gives me farther reach...”

  “Is that why you’re out of breath?”

  Noah just nodded, pushing himself to his feet. “But it’s actually better this way. There won’t be patrols coming here. Temperatures vary here, so there won’t be any inhabitants. I take it this wasn’t the man who spoke to you? The one who said he could smell Theurgy?”

  Zach shook his head.

  “Of course, not. We’d never be that lucky. But we’re far enough now.”

  “For what? “ Zach asked, realizing he still hadn’t asked what they’d be doing with the man.

  “Dorsum is a harsh kingdom. A country made up of floating, sharp cliff faces. There isn’t a single animal there that isn’t poisonous, so it’s become part of them as well. It’s in their blood. That’s about all the world knows about them.”

  Zach frowned, glancing down at the corpse.

  “Dorsum is filled with nothing but secrets. But the Mharban learned early on that the Dorsi have their own form of Theurgy. The Deck comes from their people. Often considered the birthplace of Creation, their highest social class is those who can tap into Creation and see visions of life itself, a power that only increased after that war.”

  “Okay… But why are we here?”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Noah was studying their surroundings, licking his fingers, and feeling the air.

  “Not many people know this, but Theurgy is essentially tied to blood. Blood and faith. Theurgy is rare enough, but the highest concentration of those who can use the power all come from Dorsum.”

  “And you think he’s one of them?” Zach asked.

  “He fought with a silver blade,” Noah said. “Tipped with blood. And since it would otherwise be a waste of having a Dorsi fighter, I think he’s linked to someone. They’ve probably already felt his link slip.”

  Noah pulled his own silver blade from his pocket, flexing his left hand before he drew the knife across his palm. “I’m not nearly as good at Theurgy as Lucas is, but I think I can manage a shield.”

  Hearing all this talk about Theurgy being tied to blood and faith, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Emerys were part of this. He’d certainly heard enough talk about the Emerys being a powerful and old family. The articles back at the base had practically said as much.

  “Are the Emerys one of you?” he asked. “Can they do this Theurgy?”

  “The Emerys?”

  “I remember when I first woke up, you were hinting that there was something odd about the Emerys. Is this it? They’re like you? Like him?” he gestured at the Dorsi.

  “No,” Noah said as he took the blood-stained dagger and shook off blood droplets into the air.

  A faint shimmer spread through the air around them, a field expanding outward past them, stopping in a haze as it formed a small dome, its wall standing a few paces behind them.

  “As far as we know, the Emerys don’t practice Theurgy. Their name has just been something of a special interest for Lucas and I. I told you Theurgy relied on blood and faith. The faith aspect usually relies on sacramentals, objects like the dagger, and most of the time they’re silver.

  “Before the collapse, such objects were always auctioned off at important gatherings, among those of the old money. And the Emerys were, and in a way still are, old money.”

  “Objects... like grimoires?” Zach asked, frustrated that it felt as though that was all he could do. Ask questions.

  But it was increasingly clear that that was the truth. It was all he could do.

  When it came to John and Eve, even Peter and Ava, and the Head, too, with all of them, he’d fallen into the routine of past relationships, relying on those established dynamics. With Noah, though, there was nothing to fall back on.

  It was glaringly obvious every time they spoke that Zach very rarely had anything of his own to add to their conversations. His ignorance of this world and its customs and spiritual practices crippled him. It was frustrating to say the least.

  Noah was quiet. Despite himself, Zach pushed on.

  “So, if they couldn’t practice Theurgy, what could they do with those objects? Why would they want them?”

  “Theurgy wasn’t the only... spiritual... practice in the world, though many people would say it was the most feared. There were other uses for the objects, though many people simply got them for the aesthetics.”

  “So, they might’ve been able to do something with the objects. Oliver could have gotten a grimoire, and he would’ve been able to use it.”

  “I know your grimoire theory,” Noah said. “And it is possible, but there are dark things that go into crafting a grimoire. I don’t understand much about it, but the materials alone... It has to be made of natural substances. I remember something about infusing it... That’s another practice, almost as old as Theurgy.”

  “Natural substances...” Zach muttered, looking down at the necklace around his neck. “Like this?”

  He pulled it off, opened it, and showed him the splinter of wood that lay inside. Noah glanced down with his usual frown. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  “Oliver put the locket in Leo’s grave mound,” Zach said.

  Noah leaned in closer, his fingers gently touching the wood. “I’ve only ever heard of one grimoire made out of wood, but I don’t remember where I read about it.”

  ‘But it is a grimoire piece?” Zach asked.

  Noah gave a begrudging nod, but Zach took heart in it. In a land filled with as many mysteries as this one was, it was nice to have a measure of certainty for once. Small as it was, it was progress.

  “Okay, could the Emerys have bought it from one of those auctions?” he asked.

  “As I understand it, grimoires are personal,” Noah said. “You can’t buy—”

  Zach shivered as a cold wind blew across the plain. There was something decidedly wrong about its touch. They slowly turned back to the Dorsi and found the wind was coming from him. His clothes fluttered in that ghostly wind. The snow stirred, blowing against his skin. It wasn’t snow, it was more of that ash that had fallen earlier.

  “It’s starting,” Noah said, glancing at the shield he’d put up.

  Zach was quiet, his entire body on edge. It seemed as though the Earth itself paused in anticipation. The man opened his eyes, an endless black void swirling where his eyes should’ve been. He started floating, Noah’s blood shield shimmering as if something were disturbing it.

  Then he started speaking.

  “Seven arrivals. Seven seas. Seven skies. Seven arrivals. Seven heavens. Seven creations. Seven arrivals.”

  The man’s voice was hollow, void of emotion. It sounded as though multiple voices were speaking all at once. Seven voices, he realized, all of them sounding oddly distinct. The man shuddered, taking a deep gulping breath, then went still.

  The shield shook as the man’s body exploded outward in a spray of blood and bone. Zach flinched, but the splatter was contained in another small bubble Noah must’ve put up earlier when he’d been asking his questions.

  “That’s good,” Noah said, balling his cut hand into a fist. “I didn’t feel his passing, which means whoever he was linked to won’t trace it either.”

  Zach closed the locket, stuffing it back under his shirt. Noah barely reacted to what the man had said, but Zach couldn’t hide the chills going down his spine. Zach slowly pushed himself up to his feet, his eyes not leaving the bloody shimmer that still surrounded the Dorsi's body.

  “What did—”

  “I think it’s best if we leave him here,” Noah interrupted. “Well, what’s left of him anyway.”

  “He said—”

  “I’ll have to remove the shields, though they’ll probably already know Theurgy was involved.”

  Zach stood with his mouth open. Why wouldn’t Noah allow him to voice his question? Quietly, Noah dragged the dagger along the smaller shield, the one around the man’s body. It collapsed, blowing away like dust in the wind.

  Done with that, he approached the bigger shield, the one that stood behind them. Again, he dragged the dagger across its surface, like cutting the air itself, and this one, too, collapsed, his blood blowing away like dried rust.

  “Before he exploded, he—”

  Noah spun to face him, his expression filled with nothing but frustration. “Don’t you know how to take a hint?” he asked. “We don’t speak about what they say. Ever. Even this— telling you that—I’m already doing too much.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we don’t,” he said finally. “I understand you’re not from here, but surely you understand what customs are? Surely you understand respecting customs?”

  He turned away before Zach had a chance to respond. He might’ve sounded frustrated, but it wasn’t anything close to what Zach felt.

  “Fine,” he said curtly.

  Instead, he brought up something else that had occurred to him.

  “Before I left the Dreamhold, you said your priority was the Dreamers. If everyone thinks they’ve all been killed, what about you? What are you going to do now?”

  Noah was quiet for a time, wiping the blood from the dagger. He finally turned around. A slight coldness had entered his eyes, chilling his words.

  “There’s nothing I can do about that anymore. They took that choice from me. There’s a lot of research that’s going to go to waste now, but that’s how it goes. I can’t change that. But someone who can smell Theurgy approaching you, the Dorsi tailing you... I don’t like coincidences. There might be someone out there who knows about you, as well. I’ll have to come back to the camp.”

  Zach nodded softly. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt somewhat at ease with that answer. There was something oddly comforting about talking with someone who knew his secret.

  Like he could breathe without worrying if he was doing it wrong, knowing that he didn’t have to act as Oliver Emery, at least, not as openly as he did with the others. Better still, something about Noah’s and Lucas’s knowledge made him feel slightly more confident.

  A part of him couldn’t help but interpret this moment as a conversion of sorts.

  A turning point.

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